#dylan o'brien fanfiction

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

#don't tell scotty #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles x y/n #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles smut #teen wolf imagine #stiles fanfiction #* #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #mccall!reader #stiles x mccall!reader

[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.

With an eyebrow raised and a smirk plastered on his face, only made my protectiveness over the flannel intensify. "My shirt," I declared, arms crossed defensively as I turned my head aside, a pout evident on my face, as I hoped Stiles wouldn't make me return his flannel.

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 love, it's just coffee," he explained, pointing to the dark liquid in the cup.

"Well, you're weird for liking this; it's gross." I said, pouting even more as his laughter persisted.

#dylan o'brien #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o’brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien one shot #dylan o’brien smut #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski smut #teen wolf imagines #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien fanfiction

[freedomfireflies]

Masterlist!

Series:

~ Teach Me* | BestFriend!Harry

Harry needs a little practice in the art of Eating Pussy, and who better to ask for help than his best friend? You.

~ Mine* | MafiaBoss!Harry

Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has been a little neglectful of his most prized possession. But he's found the perfect way to make it right.

~ One for the Money* | CEO!Harry

Working as an assistant for the CEO of a large corporation doesn't always pay the bills. So, you've turned to OnlyFans in an attempt to rake in a little extra cash. Unbeknownst to you...your boss, Harry Styles, is an avid subscriber.

~ 404* | Nerd!Harry

The one where you and Harry are software engineers on a project for Juno Inc. And you can’t fucking stand each other.

~ Knockout* | Boxer!Harry

The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.

~ Infinite You* | Open Relationship!Harry

The one where Harry is in an open relationship with your best friend, and maybe you have more in common than you realized. 

~ iFall for Harry* | Famous!Harry

You text an unknown number, hoping it to be the guy you met at the bar. The man that answers instead seems to be quite the upgrade.

~ Mr. & Mrs. Hey Soul Sister* | Famous!Harry

You and Harry wake up after a wild, drunken night to find out you’re more than strangers. You’re married.

~ Rumours* | Harry Styles x Reader

One-Shots inspired by Harry Styles and Fleetwood Mac songs. A story about a couple finding their way through a devastating break-up.

One-Shots:

~ Jack Shit* (Pt. 2* | Pt. 3*)

In which Jack Chambers is not a selfish, egotistical man-child with raging control issues that apparently wants to climb into Alice's womb like she's his mommy, but instead just a regular guy with a different set of control issues.

~ The Angel and the Fae | (angel!harry)

The one where Harry is an angel that falls in love with a garden fairy. And even the heavens can't keep you apart.

~ Stuck with You* | (enemies!harry)

You and Harry have been assigned to a case halfway across the country. And getting stuck for over twelve hours in a car with him is nothing short of excruciating. But having to share a bed with him? A fate worse than death. (aka: enemies to lovers + one bed trope!)

~ Bite Me* | (vampire!harry)

The one where your boyfriend, Harry, is a vampire.  And you wish you could feel what he felt.

~ Overdrive* | (street racer!harry)

The one where it’s 1969 and Harry likes to drive really, really fast.

~ Teenage Dirtbag* | (frat!harry)

The one where Harry's popular, cool, and everything you aren't. And maybe you want to keep him your dirty, little secret.

~ Pillow Talk* | (ex!harry)

The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Blurbs:

~ Blurb Masterlist

Collection of blurbs and drabbles for Harry Styles, Dylan O'Brien, and Chris Evans

Credit for the amazing dividers to @firefly-graphics

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen imagine #stiles stilinski #void stiles #void colin #masterlist #one shot #imagines #harry styles smut #dylan o'brien smut #stiles stilinski smut #smut

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

An Office Affair

Pairing - Dylan O’brien x fem!reader

Summary - Dylan started with the company 3 years ago and you both just click.

Warning- semi public sexual intercourse, fingering, choking, hair pulling, language. [18+]

-

You're unsure how you ended up in this predicament. You think back to how the last 3 years had played out, you and Dylan had been flirty from the get go.

He was a new hire and you organised his desk before he started, that was one of your many tasks. You always left the new starters a little good luck note and a small chocolate bar, just something to welcome and edge them on.

Dylan had been one of the few who really appreciated the small gesture, he asked around and found out that it was you who left the note. So he responded by leaving you a note a few weeks later, suddenly it had become a game of leaving each other notes until finally you both bumped into each other on level 3.

You didn’t work on the same floor as you were always out and about with the big boss, bringing him coffees and writing minutes in meetings. So when you were actually in the office you sat on level 7, you had gone down to level 3 to fix up another new starters desk that happened to be next to Dylan’s.

You both just clicked and the flirting begun, it started on the notes and then it moved to small touches when you were in the same room, Dylan dropping you coffee on level 7 and you ‘needing’ to stock up your stationary box each week just to see him.

And now here you are, 3 years later. Skirt bunched up around your hips, panties pulled to the side and heels digging into the very expensive printer.

Dylan’s fingers deep inside your soaked cunt, your head dropped back as he licks and sucks at the skin of your neck. “Jesus Dylan” you moaned, his thumb played with your oversensitive clit.

You clenched around him, sucking his fingers in deeper. He was toying with your sweet spot, pushing you closer to your release. “Oh… faster please” you begged, your fingernails leaving half crescent moons on his shoulder blades.

His scruffy beard scratching at your collar bone, his hot breath fanning over your skin. “Fuck… I love the sounds you make” Dylan professed, his fingers picking up speed within your pussy.

Your juices running down his fingers, the sound of your wet cunt filled the stationary room. The small light left on illuminated your bodies, shadows bouncing off the four walls. “I’m so close!” You cried, grinding your hips into his hand.

He had three fingers buried deep inside, knuckles disappearing within you. Tears trickled down your cheeks as your high finally reached you, your walls pulsating around his digits.

Your soft cries muffled by his shoulder as you gripped onto him for dear life, your legs shaking against the printer. He didn’t let up his movements until you began to push him fingers away, your pussy physically crying at his touch.

He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked, your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head in delight. “Fuck… your so hot” you state, pulling him to you by the back of his head.

His lips pressed to yours harshly, your fingers fiddling with his Armani belt. You finally got him free, staring down at his cock that stood proud. The head redden and leaking pre cum, screaming to be touched.

Your hand reaches out to grip him, giving him a soft tug. He emits a choked groan, palms making contact with the printer to keep himself steady. “Sweet girl… I’m going to need to fuck you now or I’ll come in your hand” he admits.

You nod your head profusely and bring him to your folds, dragging him up and down, collecting the juices with his tip. He nudged himself against your swollen clit, a shiver running through your spine.

“Come on pretty girl”

He grips your hips and pushes inside of you without warning, a husky groan leaves his lips. You feel physically full, your walls fluttering around his girthy cock. “I’m going to move us” he states, pulling out of you momentarily.

He pulls you from the printer and spins you around, pushing your upper back down. Angling your face against the printer and bringing your ass up higher, pushing himself back into you.

“Oh sweet Jesus” you exclaim, his hips meet the swell of your ass cheeks with each thrust. You can feel his heavy balls against your clit, your fingers curling around the printer for support.

“You feel so good… I’ve wanted to fuck you in this room the moment I laid eyes on you” he admits, you let out a grunt of agreement. Pushing your hips back to meet him roughly.

“Dylan… harder!” You order, you need him to give it his all. Your pussy needed to be abused by him, it weeped for him. Arousal soaking his thick cock, his movements quickened. Hands gripping onto your hips for support once more. “Faster!”.

Your breathless moans are muffled by your biceps, burying your head against your skin. His fingers interlock with the loose ponytail and yank your upright, your back meeting his chest. “Don’t hide those sweet sounds”.

You cry out in pleasure, his hand sliding from your hair to your throat. He gives it a slight squeeze, the breath getting caught for a moment. “Fuck” you breath when he lets go, that breathless daze you get when your running out of breath washes over you. “Do it again”.

He gives you another squeeze and you claw at his arm, pressing your hips into him again. He pulls out of you again and drags you towards the desk, dropping you onto the wooden table and lining himself up with you again. “We’ve got 5 minutes before the cleaners clock on” Dylan states, eyes darting to the clock beside them.

You nod your head, his movements quicken. The desk hitting the wall in the process, the noise echoing within the stationary room. You grip onto his shoulders, biting down on your lower lip as he fucks you with such force you feel like you might both go through the wall.

“Oh god.. Dylan! Fuck!” You cry, you clit rubs against the skin of his lower stomach. The familiar tingle begins to spread through your body, your pussy pulsating around his cock.

“Dyl… I’m going to cum” you warn, squeezing your eyes shut and biting down onto his shoulder. He grabs your waist and angles himself deeper, your cries are muffled by his shirt.

You can no longer hold on, letting the wave of pleasure hit you at full force. Physically shaking around him, toes curling and walls fluttering. You're soaking his cock, pure arousal dripping from every inch of you.

He’s right behind you, cock buried deep and spurting cum into you. You can feel him shudder and jerk against you, his moans and groans of pleasure filling the room. You press your lips to his as he cums, hands holding his face against yours.

“It took us 3 years to do that” you breath, he begins to pull out of you slowly. He chuckles and takes a seat next to you. “Let’s not leave it another 3 years to repeat it” he jokes, giving you another peck on the lips.

The lights on level 3 turn back on, indicating the cleaners have clocked on. The two of you rush to clean yourself up and get changed, sneaking out of the building going unnoticed.

🏷️ @novxturient

#dylan o’brien #dylan o’brien smut #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o’briens hands #dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brien fluff #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien edit #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan obrien

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Hey!!

Can I request “are you wearing my shirt?” with Dylan? Please and thank you!

Love you xx

You've waited a long time for this...

SO YES, I most certainly can! This sounds like fun :) MUCH LOVE!

Authors Note: Cliche? Maybe. But some lines are classic. Sue me. But like, don't? Litigation is expensive ;) p.s. smut... p.p.s. x female reader.

Prompt list HERE, but currently closed. This prompt is like a year old :/

Better on the Floor

Exhausted would be putting it mildly. You'd had a long week and the fact that it was only Wednesday wasn't helping. When you got home, you kicked out of your shoes, stretching out your aching toes as you stripped out of your stiflingly uncomfortable clothes, wandering your way slowly down the hall toward the bedroom. You peeled off your underwear and tossed them in the hamper before you padded into the bathroom to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. You watched the water pool in the palm of your hand, running out between the gaps of your fingers until it was just this side of scalding before you plugged the tub.

You stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam and then pulled open the drawer of the vanity to grab a bath bomb. You watched impatiently as the bath slowly filled before tossing the little ball of Epsom salt into the water, watching it fizz for a few moments before you followed after and slid into the water.

You could almost feel the muscles of your back sigh in relief as the warmth washed over them, drawing out at least some of the tension that had been locking them in place for days. You relaxed against the slope of the bath, letting your neck roll against the soft bath cushion for a few minutes. Enjoying the silence long enough to feel human again before you flicked the water from your hands and reached down to grab your phone from the bathmat.

Your discover playlist on Spotify was something you liked to try to fit in during the week because you always liked finding something new, and you hadn't had a chance yet this week. Now seemed as good a time as any. You tapped to play and then set your phone down on the edge of the bath. You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed before the music faded out to an incoming notification, but when you swiped to view the text, your fingers were wrinkled and pale from the soak.

Dylan: So... I'm outside... and I'm an idiot

You smiled and shook your head before your smile turned to more of a smirk. You sat up a bit in the bath, shaking the water off your other hand so you could reply.

You: Alright. I'm intrigued.

Dyan: I might have...maybe...possibly left my keys in my trailer

You: How'd you get home?

Dylan: Fob wasn't on my key ring after I had it detailed

Dylan: Come let me in? I feel like a creep lurking out here

You: One sec

This was exactly like him, and it only made you love him more. You smiled as you stepped out of the bath and quickly toweled dry with one that was a bit smaller than you'd like if you were going to the door, so you snatched his bundled t-shirt off the counter and pulled it on before you rushed to the front door and unlocked it.

"Hey," he said with a smile when you opened the door.

"Hey," you replied, reaching out your hand to take his. You pulled him inside and into a tight hug, standing up on the tips of your toes and locking your arms together around his neck.

He gently kicked the door closed behind him and locked the deadbolt before he fully hugged you back, squeezing you tight around the waist and sighing into the damp hair at the nape of your neck.

"Oh no... you were in the bath, weren't you?" He pulled back and cupped your cheek in his palm. "Sorry, baby."

"'S'okay..." you hummed, nuzzling into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his palm on your cheek.

"You must have been so cozy in there..." He admired you for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his gaze roamed down over your body.

You smiled, blushing at his attention.

"You look pretty comfy now though..." he said softly, pausing for a moment before he continued. "Is that...are you wearing my shirt?"

"Mhm..." you hummed, swaying slightly in his arms.

His eyes continued roaming, his hands following the trail they blazed until they were toying with the hem of it that was skirting across your upper thighs.

The skimming touch of his fingertips on your skin lit it with goosebumps. "It looks better on me..." you lied.

"Maybe..." he chuckled softly, pulling his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before his eyes met yours again, "but it'd look even better on the floor."

Did it matter that it was a line if ever you'd heard one? Not even slightly. It still sent a filthy little shiver down your spine. It didn't help that he'd leaned in and was peppering the side of your throat with wet little kisses as he walked you backward until you were pressed to the wall of the entryway.

He kissed you hard, his hands pinning your shoulders to the wall before they slid down your body and pulled his shirt up over it. He tossed it on the floor and then leaned in again, his nose brushing against yours before he whispered in your ear.

"See?" he breathed, his lips wet on your skin. His fingertips ghosted along your skin until one palm settled on your chest, the other on your ass.

You didn't see a damn thing except for little stars, but he'd more than made his point. You punched out an abrupt panted breath at the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipple before he sealed his lips to yours and swallowed down the little moan he pulled from you.

He kissed you until you were breathless, and in the brief reprieve he offered—mouthing along your jawline and driving you wild with the little grazes of his teeth—you managed to draw in a ragged enough lung full of air to keep from passing out.

You were pretty sure you'd collapse if he wasn't holding you in place. His touch, his admiration of your body, it had you forgetting just how awful you'd been feeling just an hour ago. Turns out? A hot bath and a fine-ass man putting his hands all over you are the curealls for just about everything. Who knew.

"Missed you..." he hummed against the thin skin that covered your collarbone.

Your head fell back against the wall.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you..." he said before he kissed his way to the dip at the base of your throat. "Took a shower on my break..."

You looked down at him, at his hand that was clasped to your upper arm, those beautiful veins painting across the tendons that flexed at his grip. His dark hair smelled of his shampoo.

"Had me so riled up I had hide in there and beat off just so I could be seen in fucking public."

It made you immeasurably happy that he was still infatuated enough with you that he was capable of expressing the laughably pathetic self-control of a hormone-addled teen. Your cheeks flushed and a little chuckle shook your chest.

"I deserve that..." He smiled against your skin, before he pulled back from you, his eyes locking with yours. "But I mean..." his gaze flicked down your body before his hand that had been nestled into the dip of your waist slipped down between the two of you until he was cupping the warmth of your core in his hand. "Can you blame me?"

"Fuck."

Now he was the one chuckling, but it quickly faded, his expression shifting from sly to sultry when his fingers slipped inside of you.

You groaned, your head falling forward to his clothed shoulder. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, stretching out the neck enough to expose some skin for you to latch onto with a nipping little bite.

He winced, sucking in a quick breath before he distracted you from your mission to mark your territory with a curl of his fingers inside you.

"Oh— Shit!" you gasped, panting into the cotton of his shirt until it was damp with your desperate breaths.

"That feel good?" he asked, even though the way you were squeezing his fingers had to be answer enough.

You nodded against his chest before he used the curled index finger on his free hand to lift your chin.

"Good," he said before he leaned in and kissed you.

His soft lips felt incredible, the flavour mint on his breath mixed with the faintest hint of tobacco, the combination had become something uniquely 'him' to you. It made your head spin. So, when his tongue begged to be let in to play with yours, you were happy to oblige.

You let him work you over until you could feel that little buzz building up inside you, that tingling hint that—with just a little more effort, one more precise little motion—he'd have you cumming before he was even out of his shoes, and that hardly seemed acceptable.

Breaking your kiss, you pulled away from his chasing lips, knowing you must look absolutely wrecked, and then you gripped him through his pants.

He tossed his head back and practically growled at your touch, his fingers stilling for only a moment before his eyes met yours once more with a fierce, fiery need. He shoved your hand aside and ripped open the zipper of his jeans and shoved your hand into his boxers.

"That's what you do to me..." he said, rutting into your palm, matching his pace with his fingers inside you as he kicked out of his sneakers.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off him, tossing it against the wall behind him. "Take those off..." you said, flicking your gaze down his body at his pants, flexing your wrist inside his boxers.

He stepped out of his jeans and socks and then pressed you against the wall once more, rubbing his thigh against the back of his arm to apply a bit more pressure to the hand that was driving you insane.

"You close?" he asked, nosing your jawline and breathing against your skin.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat before you spoke. "Yes..."

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you gasped his name into his hair when his lips fell to your chest.

Just when you thought he was going to shove you off the edge, you felt his fingers slip free from you before he slid down onto his knees in front of you. His warm brown eyes looking up at you, his soft lips parted just inches from your skin. This was criminal. This was attempted murder in the first degree.

When his tongue teased over you, the flutter of his eyelashes was almost enough to get you off. It looked like he was taking a hit of a designer drug...getting high off you.

He moaned against your skin and his hands pinned your hips to the wall, gripping the soft skin under them tight enough that it stung. That tiny hint of pain only made all of it better.

Your hands tangled into his hair, drawing him closer to you. You sighed out his name and half-formed expletives as his tongue teased you back to that precipice he'd had you teetering over minutes earlier.

He sealed his lips around the singing little bundle of nerves and flicked his tongue, his beard teasing the sensitive skin, before he let his lips fall open and he lapped along the slick of you he'd made slicker with his skilled mouth.

You were trembling now, your fingernails scraping along the back of his neck now, your legs weak with the effort of holding yourself up when all you wanted to do was fall apart.

"Come for me..." he breathed before he sealed his lips again.

Demand? Request? It hardly fucking mattered, because before you could classify it as either you were doing it. You were calling out, grasping his shoulders and trembling against his hold on your hips.

He pulled back from you, wiping his mouth into the palm of his hand before he stood in front of you once more. "Mmm...." he hummed before you watched him stroke his length with his wet hand. "Love the way you sound when you're cussing my name..."

Fuck. He'd only just made you come and you felt a new little ember spark to life inside you just waiting to be stoked. Insatiable was putting it lightly. When he kissed you this time, you could taste what he'd done to you—how he'd just driven you wild—and you needed to make him feel just as good.

You stepped apart enough to make more space for him between your legs and pulled him toward you. "Need you..." you whispered against his lips.

"Need me to what?" he replied, kissing along your jawline to your ear before he lapped against your throat and sealed his lips to suck a little mark into your skin.

You bucked your hips against him, feeling his length slide through the mess he'd made of you. "To fuck me..."

The way he responded to those words never got old. You held them in reserve, generally choosing to be a touch more subtle. He practically growled, his head snapping back, his dark eyes trained on yours when his grip on you tightened.

You gasped when he hefted you up in front of him, lining himself up with you, locking your thighs around his hips before he pinned you to the wall so he could free one of his hands enough to lock one of your wrists up in it just above your head. Then he drove into you in a slow, firm thrust.

"Dylan!" you cried out before he kissed you again, grinding you back against the wall before he began a more predictable, yet tantalizing rhythm.

A perfectly good couch in the living room just steps away really, a bed down the hall that was plush and waiting, and yet here you were fucking against the wall a step inside the front door like a couple of rabid animals.

When he fucked you like this he never retreated, in this position he just rocked his body into yours. The pressure it provided just where you wanted it most was unmatched. It was incredible and intense. It quickly reminded you why the couch and the bed should be neglected from time to time. Variety is the spice of life, right? And this particular variety was delicious.

"Fuck, baby..." he moaned, his hand slipping from yours, his fingers gliding through your hair until they were tangled into it and he tugged it just enough to make you wince. "So good... so fucking tight..."

"Shit!" He was driving you fucking wild. Sometimes you wish you could take just a tiny day trip into his mind to see if you made him feel as unhinged as he did you. Hardly seemed possible, but the way he looked buried inside you? You could be tempted to believe there was a chance his infatuation could rival your own.

Your body was trembling again and you felt that familiar tug inside you, that welcomed warmth building. Desire and need beginning to fold to bliss and euphoria. Was he with you? Was he ready?

The stutter of his hips, the faltering of that perfect rhythm, they were signs that he was on the edge of his own release. His breath grew ragged, and his jaw clenched with the effort it was clearly taking him to hold it back.

You didn't want him to wait, he was ready and so were you. You leaned forward and kissed him, clenching around him as the final roll of his hips had you coming undone around him.

The soft rumble of the groan he let out into your mouth when you felt him spill inside you made every sensation feel all the more intoxicating. Moments like this were almost unfathomable. How did you end up here? Lucky enough to have this man panting against your chest? It was absurd really. Absolutely batshit.

After a few moments of shared giggles and coming back to reality, he picked the shirt you'd been wearing off the floor and handed it to you to slip back on.

He appraised you as you tugged the hem down over your body.

"What?" you asked, smoothing the new tangles in your hair.

"Nothin'..." he said with a shrug, pulling on his boxers. "Just nice being right."

You narrowed your eyes. "About?"

"Definitely better on the floor."

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #my first attempt at prompts! #trashy writing #better on the floor fic #is this a tired trope? #I mean... maybe #but some lines are just... ✨hot✨ #so... forgive me for a bit of recycling #first new thing in a while #ENOJYYYY #kinda threw... *a lot* at this one

[fivelakesinwriting]

Fresh Air (Dylan O'Brien)

Author's Notes: Thank you all for the love, support and patience you've shown me while I've been on a hiatus. You voted for Dylan to be my first story back, and I hope this does not disappoint.

Warnings: Drinking, swearing, references to drug use, sexual references - sexual innuendos (*established relationship - unprotected sex, semi public sex, pet names, fingers, lots of kisses!)

Requested? Nope. Requests are closed

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. And you do not have permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you xoxo

The colour she had painted her lips was beyond distracting. It was the same colour she had worn the very first night they ever kissed, and it wasn't lost on him. He was way more observant than she gave him credit for. Soft, glossy, pink and with  a few sparkles. It drove him wild making him think about her lips all over his, messy and frantic as they kissed in the front seat of his Audi.

Dylan licked his lips subconsciously to satisfy his need to kiss her. The alcohol flooded his head and swam in his veins as he flicked his cigarette into the street then walked over to her.

"Young lady, you have two options. Another drink and a dance or I take you home." Dylan muttered with a little nip to her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Why would I want to go home?" She questioned with a furrowed brow as she turned in his arms to face him.

"Sweetie." Dylan growled with a curl of his upper lip as he slid his hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

She raised her eyebrows as she realized what he meant, his hands squeezing her backside and pulling her close. She tossed an arm around his neck and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling him shiver.

"I'll let you take me home, Dylan." She whispered as she pressed her forehead to his, rubbing their noses together.

"Your lips look so pretty tonight, sweetie." Dylan muttered as he reached a hand up to thumb at her bottom lip gently, doing his best to not smudge her paint.

"Thank you." She smiled as she pressed her lips to the pad of his thumb.

They got home, but didn't make it inside. Dylan was sober enough to drive, but not enough to control his urge to kiss her like a teenager left to his own devices. He parked the car and grabbed her hips, tugging her over the console and into his lap.

"Baby!" She laughed as he bit her chin and along her neck, his hands filled with her backside as he pulled her close.

"You're so fucking pretty." Dylan muttered into the crease of her neck before he sunk his teeth into her skin, making her gasp. He pushed his hands up the back of her shirt, desperate to feel her skin beneath his palms.

"What did you drink tonight, baby?" She hummed as she pushed her hands into his hair while she rolled her hips on top of his, letting him nibble on her neck and collarbone.

"Just like, two beers. Did smoke a bit, though. Shared a blunt with the guys." Dylan grumbled as he licked her skin where he had bit her while his thumbs flicked her bra clasp.

"Blunts make you a big baby." She smiled, letting him unhook her bra beneath her shirt and fill his hands with her breasts.

"Didn't always. Now I smoke them and it makes me think of you, and us. Getting high together and touching, having sex. You're so cute and soft.  Just fucking love you." Dylan muttered as he thumbed her nipples.

"Liar. First time we smoked together you were all over me. Touching, snuggling and kissing. And we hadn't even gone out on an official date yet. You were nothing but hands, O'Brien." She teased with a tug of his hair.

"You make me feel needy. Can't help it." Dylan breathed out as he removed his teeth from her neck and rested his head back on the seat rest.

"It's not a bad thing. It's just funny how you were so respectful to me when I came over that night, and then the minute we lit up you had your hands on some part of my body. I liked it." She smiled breathlessly as he ran his fingertips through the waistband of her jeans toward the button.

"Yeah? What else did you like about that night?" He hummed as he aimlessly toyed with the button of her jeans, never opening them.

"The way you looked at me, how you said my name then started calling me sweetie. When you played with my hair, and wrapped us in that blanket. Then when you kissed me." She breathed out, squirming around on top of him from the tension between them. But she was confined between him, and the steering wheel, Dylan had all the control just how he liked it.

"I remember all of that, too. It was nice. You pulled my hair and called me baby when we were kissing. I was done for, and I think that's when it probably started. The whole, blunts make Dylan a big baby thing. Makes me think of that." Dylan smirked as he flicked open the button of her jeans and pulled down the zipper.

"Should we go in the house, baby?" She whispered as she pressed her fingertips to his neck, lips brushing over his while he reached a hand inside her jeans.

"Nope."

Dylan watched her eyes flutter shut as he pulled her panties to the side and brushed his fingertips through her folds. He hummed softly as he felt her drip, circling her clit and watching her chew on her bottom lip.

"In..oh...in the Audi?" She panted as he rolled her clit with his thumb and pressed at her entrance gently with the tip of his middle finger.

"Only if you want to." Dylan mumbled with a kiss to her chin as he eased his finger inside of her.

"Big needy baby." She breathed out with a pull of his hair, dropping her forehead to his.

"For you." Dylan smirked with a little twist of his finger inside of her, making her whimper and pout her lips against his.

Dylan has vowed to himself, and silently to her that he would be respectful. Not get too hands on despite how much he liked her and would have enjoyed seeing what was beneath her clothes. Slow, and respectful. He could do that.

"Stop. Stop. This is painful to watch." Dylan laughed as he watched the object of his affection attempt to roll their blunt for the evening. She said she could never do it, so he told her to try. And try she did.

"My fingers don't work this way!" She giggled as she held the paper haphazardly rolled with weed.

"Give this to me. I'll help you, sweetie." He grinned as he gently took the paper from her and easily rolled it between the tips of his fingers. He felt her watching him as he licked the paper, sealing the edges and twisting the top. He handed it back to her with a smile - all done.

"You're good at that." She whispered, face warm from watching his fingers and the new nickname he had given her. He only ever called her by her first name, respectfully so.

"Had a bit of practice." Dylan laughed softly with a nervous rub to the back of his neck.

The smoke filled the back patio beneath the large tree, the two of them inching closer and closer as the blunt ashed down. By the time it was done, she was curled into his side underneath his arm as they chatted happily.

"Cold?" Dylan muttered as he traced his fingertips over her arm, shivers beneath him as he went.

"A little." She nodded as she shifted closer to him.

Dylan reached behind them and grabbed a blanket pulling it over their legs and chest. He thumbed at her chin, smiling at her hazy eyes and relaxed face.

"Better?" He whispered as he eyed her lips, the pretty glossy paint a little smudged from the blunt paper but still incredibly enticing. He found himself playing with the ends of her hair, twisting the soft, smooth tresses around his fingers aimlessly.

"Yeah. Nice and warm now." She nodded with a smile, her own hand reaching out to touch his facial hair.

"Good. Your hair is so soft, really shiny." Dylan muttered as he continued to twirl her hair around his fingers, exhaling heavily through his nostrils at the feeling of her fingers on his face.

"Thank you. I like your beard." She smiled as she thumbed his chin.

"Thanks, sweetie." Dylan laughed softly as he brushed her hair over her shoulder, letting her touch his face.

"You smell really good, and you're warm." She breathed out as she shifted closer to him beneath the blanket.

Dylan uttered a, come here and took hold of her hips to pull her onto his lap. He placed his hands on her thighs, feeling her soft skin beneath his palms. He moaned softly as she leaned forward and gently scratched his facial hair along his jawline.

"Feels good." He mumbled as he moved his hands along her thighs, and took hold of her backside over her shorts.

"Your hands feel nice, too."

Dylan shivered, feeling tingles in his scalp and down his spine at her soft omission. He gripped her backside a little firmer, fingertips digging into her flesh over her shorts to pull her closer. He leaned in just a little, closing the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers for the very first time. Dylan worked his fingers into her hair as they kissed, her fingertips pressed to his jawline as she whimpered into his mouth making him feel wild for her.

"Dylan." She whispered against his lips as she moved her hands to the back of his neck.

"Sweetie " Dylan grumbled as he pushed his own hands up the back of her shirt. He kissed the corners of her mouth as his thumbs caressed her back, loving how she curled her body into his.

"Kiss me again." She begged softly as she pressed her forehead to his.

Dylan did as requested of him, kissing her lips and slowly slipped his tongue in her mouth while he kept a hand on her back inside of her shirt. His moan matched hers as his tongue explored her mouth, their hands all over each other. He slid his hands into the back pockets of her shorts and grabbed her backside, pulling her even closer to him.

"Watch your hips." Dylan muttered into their kiss, his hands gripping her sides to cease her back and forth movement. It wasn't that he didn't like it, he did.

"M'sorry." She blushed as she pulled away from him slightly, chewing her bottom lip.

"No, no. It's not like that. It's just that I promised myself I would take it slower with you. And these hips are making it a little difficult. It's not that I don't like it. I do." Dylan muttered as he eased them down to the outdoor couch, positioning himself between her legs as he thumbed her chin and reclaimed dominance.

"Why slow? And why me?" She questioned as she pulled at the small gold chain around his neck.

"Because I like you, a lot. And sometimes I have a tendency to take this fast and not ruin it with sex, but get there too quick without a foundation." Dylan explained with a soft sigh, looking over her pretty face.

"I'm just happy to have you kiss me, and be close to me." She breathed out as she pulled her nails gently down his chest, making him smile.

She had coaxed Dylan out of the Audi, and got him back into the house. He didn't make it passed the foyer, though. His shirt off, and pants around his ankles.

"C'mon, sweetie." Dylan groaned as he palmed himself over his boxers, pinning his half naked girlfriend to the table at the front door. Her shorts were long since discarded into the backseat of his car, her bra undone under her shirt.

"Baby." She hummed as he pulled off her shirt then slid her bra off her arms, his lips leaving a trail of kisses from either elbow back up to between her breasts and her neck.

"Bed is too far." Dylan grumbled into her neck as he grabbed her thighs and lifted her up onto the small table then wrestled her panties down her legs. He dropped his boxers to his ankles as he kissed up to the sweet spot beneath her ear, breathing a smile as she sunk her nails into his back.

"I don't trust this table, Dylan."

"Trust me though, right?" Dylan muttered as he pressed his forehead to hers and dropped his eyes down to watch himself touch her entrance with his tip. A groan rattled around in his chest as he soaked himself in her, teasing them both as he waited for her go ahead.

"With my life." She nodded as she rested her head back against the wall.

"I've got you. Won't let you fall." Dylan exhaled as he eased inside of her, taking hold of her thighs as he settled inside of his love. His lips made their way to hers for a messy kiss as he bottomed out, her walls sucking him in.

"Baby." She moaned out loud with a deep scratch to his back.

"I know." Dylan cooed. He pulled his hips back then snapped them forward, the small table rocking beneath them as he picked up his pace. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his fingertips pressing into her thighs.

"I love you, Dylan." She breathed out against his temple. After the night he had, after the smoke in his lungs altering his consciousness and the tension between them he couldn't help himself. He sealed his lips to her shoulder and with a firm thrust finished inside of her, thankful to feel her nails pull down his back as she fell with him.

"I love you, too."

..

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien x female reader #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x you #dylan o'brien x female reader smut

[sweet-pea-channie]

Pretty Little Fangs - Stiles Stilinski Imagine (smut)

Author: @sweet-pea-channie​​​

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!vampire!reader

Words: +5,2k

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), teasing, deepthroating, car sex, public sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex (be better than that!), riding

Requested by @moumouton4​​: Basically it's Stiles who has a girlfriend who is a vampire and like all vampires she has fangs and she knows from an event that Stiles is turned on by the sight of her fangs and so sometimes she gets them out and smiles at him just to turn him on "playfully" during a class, during a game, in the canteen and even at Derek's house for the pack meeting until he gets tired of it and looses his cool( smut if you want )

AN: I’ve never written anything that involved vampires, and I also never watched anything with vampires like Vampire Diaries or Twilight. So don’t judge me if I got something wrong. I had to research a lot :D But luckily, I’m a huge Supernatural fan. It took me a while to write it, thanks to another writer’s block, but here you go! :) 

Masterlist

"Okay, and why don't we just go and-"

"And what? Ask politely if they would stop attacking us?" interrupted Derek as you stood around the table in the vet clinic. Once again, the Alpha pack had surprised you as you spent another evening at Derek's to figure out how to deal with them. But before you had a plan, Derek's alarm system went off and the entire pack was downstairs in the compound, once again demanding to see Derek and to see you. Why you were so interesting to the Alpha Pack was a mystery to everyone. After all, you were anything but a werewolf. 

"How old are you again?" asked Derek, annoyed.

“17.”

"And for how long?"

"For two months," you reply with a slight shake of your head. "Do you think I would voluntarily spend my whole youth that could last up to god knows how many years in school forever? Once I graduate, that's it."

"Isn't that what all vampires do?" asked Peter, who was once again unwanted in the mix. Fortunately, he had ducked into a corner and was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

"Don't you live in wolf dens?"

"Okay, can we please stop this? I don't live in wolf dens!" grunted Peter, pushing himself off the wall and coming closer to you. Stiles' gaze met yours with a proud grin. After all, he had told you about how he had approached Peter about it while the rest of you were in the bank looking for Boyd and Cora.

"Okay, and now maybe we can focus on how to convince the alphas not to kill any more of us?" asked Scott in a raised voice, looking at all of you somewhat disappointed. This was something serious, after all, and once again you couldn't resist egging each other on. 

"Sorry," you mumbled, pressing your lips together. "But let's be serious now. They want something from me that I can't understand why. Why can't I just go up to them and ask what they want from me? Why are they so desperate to have me in their pack? Vampires are not made to live with werewolves. I have my nest, I'm provided with everything I need there."

"I'm strictly against it," Stiles interjected, raising his hand upward. "Who else?"

Of course, you sighed. No one could ever give you a good reason why you couldn't go to the Alphas. 

"Y/N, just because you're immortal and have stronger superpowers than us doesn't mean they can't still kill you," Scott replied, agreeing with Stiles. 

"I don't think werewolves are going to pull out a machete and chop my head off."

"That's pointless," Isaac countered, leaning against the medicine cabinet behind him. "If she wants to go so badly, just let her go."

And oh my, did that plan backfire. Of course, no one wanted you to make your way to Deucalion alone, but no one could stop you anyway. Of course, the next day Scott noticed that something was wrong with you, and so he followed you, without you noticing, into the vacant building where you had found Boyd, Cora and Erica. 

To sum it all up quickly, yes, you were right. Werewolves do not bring a machete to a fight between werewolves and a vampire. Instead, they brought a knife, soaked in dead man's blood, that had incapacitated you for a while, while Kali crouched on the ground in front of you, stroking your cheek with her claws. "You are worth so much more than you think."

The alphas disappeared without even giving you a decent answer, and Scott ran out of his hiding place to help you. Your thoughts were conflicted when you saw him. Annoyed that he didn't trust you and always had to follow you around, but on the other hand relieved that he was there to help you. 

There was no real cure for dead man's blood. Your body had to heal from it alone. Drinking human blood would speed it all up, but if you told your father now that you needed another transfusion today, even though you had just gulped one down yesterday after he got off his shift from the hospital, he certainly wouldn't help you. After all, you had brought this on yourself. He already had to make sure the hospital didn't notice if he took home multiple blood transfusions for the whole family. 

"I called Stiles to come pick you up. I can't very well drive you home on my bike like that. And I don't think your parents are going to be thrilled to see you like this now, are they?" he asked, helping you back to your feet. 

You nodded and put your arm around his shoulder, so he could transport you out without you putting much weight on him. It was already dark outside, after all, it was always safest for you to go out when it was dark. Scott set you down against the wall of the house and walked a little further along the curb toward the street to check on Stiles. "How long will it take to get the blood out of your system?" asked Scott as he turned back to you. 

"Could be a couple of hours," you replied, pressing your lips together until you felt the sharp tips of your fangs, which, thanks to the blood inside you, didn't retract as usual. "So it’d be the best if no one would see me now."

Scott nodded and looked back out at the road, where he could see the lights of Stiles' Jeep in the distance. Stiles put on the brakes when he finally arrived at the old bank and jumped out of the car while the engine was still running. "Are you all right? Is everything okay? What the hell happened? What are you doing?" 

"Everything's fine, Stiles. Just a bit of dead man's blood. It's gonna come out of my system soon," you replied, reaching out your hand for him to help you up. But Stiles suddenly stopped without moving and stared at you motionless. 

"What's wrong with your teeth?" he asked under his breath and kept staring at your fangs. 

"They don't retreat, side effects of the blood," you mumbled as you tried to stand up on your own after he didn't really want to help you. And as if he suddenly understood what was going on again, he sprinted to you and helped you get into his car. You didn't really know why he was acting that way, but it all made sense when you were back at school a few days later. 

It happened at school. Lydia once again had no appetite for the not-so-delicious food in the cafeteria, and so she decided that you would have another day of getting sandwiches from the little café across the street. So Lydia had one arm wrapped around yours and the other around Allisons as you made your way out through the school halls. 

Immediately you recognized his voice among the dozens of strange voices. Once again, Stiles couldn't stop talking. He was still far away from you, you couldn't see him yet. He was probably standing with Scott at his locker, which was around the corner from you. 

“I’m telling you man, her fangs, they just... I don’t know, something is just happening to me when I see them. It’s like they’re turning me on. And even though she was in so much pain the other night, I couldn’t stop looking at them and I couldn’t stop wondering what they’d feel like on my skin.”

“You mean her biting you?!”

“No, no, no. Well, I mean, maybe she could just nibble a bit, you know. As long as she won’t sink her teeth into my skin, I think we’re good.”

“You’re having wild fantasies, man.”

“But I know that she’d never do that. She’s too scared that she’s going to bite me. So just looking at her fangs is enough for now.”

"What's going on?" asked Lydia when she noticed you weren't really paying attention anymore. You finally walked past the hallway that led to Scott's locker, and there you could see the two of them. Stiles was standing next to Scott, who had his head buried deep in his locker, while Stiles couldn't stop talking about your fangs. You didn't even know he was that turned on by them. But one thing you were sure of, you were definitely going to take advantage of that now.

It was actually a normal Thursday, except for the fact that yet another lacrosse game was coming up. Allison and Lydia didn't want to go with you, so you were forced to spend yet another game next to Noah and Melissa. After all, you promised Stiles you would watch every game. You didn't really mind. The fact of seeing a sweaty Stiles with strands of hair stuck to his forehead made him that much more attractive. 

Stiles was finally substituted in the last quarter after having to spend the first 45 minutes on the bench, and he gave it his all for the last 15 minutes.

You were up by three goals and the last two minutes were on the clock when Stiles came closer and closer to the opponent's goal with the ball in the net. His father was already screaming his name in excitement, while everyone around you was already cheering. And who would have thought it, Stiles actually managed to get you another point. His teammates ran up to him and threw themselves at him, while his gaze went in your direction. Proudly, you smiled at him and knew that now was the perfect time. As you smiled at him, you extended your fangs and embellished your vampire smile. Stiles' mouth dropped open abruptly, and he ignored his teammates around him as he struggled to come to grips with what was happening.

He didn't know why you did that, but of course it turned him on all at once. His breath quickened and his heart raced. All he wanted right now was for the last minute to be over as quickly as possible, so he could run to you. 

Scott slapped Stiles on the helmet to get him back in the game, having noticed that Stiles zoned out for a second. Stiles shook his head and concentrated for the remaining seconds until the game finally ended. 

The students who had been watching the game ran onto the field and celebrated the victory with the players. You apologized to Noah and Melissa and made your way to the field where all the students were standing. You lost sight of Stiles when you finally got to the field; he was lost in the crowd. But you didn't have to look for long, because he had already found you. 

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him. You startled, not having seen him coming, and let out a soft gasp as you slammed into his chest. "Stiles."

Stiles' hand immediately reached around and was now on your lower back, pressing you even closer to his sweaty body. His lacrosse jersey had long been removed, and he was only wearing the tight-fitting gray undershirt. Your hands were on his chest and pushed your upper body back a little, so that you could look at him completely. And as you had feared, a few strands stuck to his forehead again, while the others stuck up wildly. You ruffled a hand through his damp hair and rested your hand on the back of his neck. 

"I'm all sweaty," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. 

"I don’t really care at all," you countered. 

Stiles' right corner of his mouth pulled up, and within a second he had his other hand on your cheek and pulled your face to his. He wasted no time and kissed you directly with an energy he never usually did in public. His tongue found your lower lip directly and asked for entrance. You opened your mouth a little wider and moaned softly as his tongue met yours. 

"Guys! Get a room!" someone shouted next to you. You sighed and flicked the person off without even seeing who it was. 

Stiles broke away from you and bit his lower lip as he continued to look at you intently. 

"What was that for?" you asked him, playing with the little hairs on the back of his neck. You could feel exactly how the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he got goosebumps on his arms. 

“Just wanted to celebrate the win with my absolutely gorgeous girlfriend,” he replied and placed another kiss, this time a gentle one, on your lips. “I gotta go back to the boys. But will you be at my place once I’m coming home?”

You nodded and pressed your lips to his one last time, and then pushed him into the crowd with the others. He turned once more and winked at you before turning around, tripping once over his own feet, and then joining the boys.

“So the items or concepts used to increase one's economic influence are called what?” Coach asked while walking from left to right in front of the class. "Stilinski!"

"What?" asked Stiles, who had just not been paying attention and looked up from his notepad. 

“Items or concepts used to increase one's economic influence are called what? Come one Stilinski, that’s an easy question! Get it wrong, and you’re benched for the next five games!”

“But Coach! Our next game is the most important one!” Stiles complained, nervously searching his notes for the right answer.

“Well then, I guess you better have the question!”

You couldn't take it from the beginning, and had already taken out your cell phone and quickly texted Stiles the answer as a message. It's capital. Capital is the answer. ;) 

Stiles' phone, which luckily was out in front of him, lit up and your message appeared right on his screen. "Um, it's capital."

Coach was already ready to yell at Stiles and bench him for the next five games. In fact, he had his back turned to the class and was walking toward the blackboard while mumbling to himself. But when he heard the correct answer, he turned abruptly and stared at Stiles in confusion. "That's right, Stilinski."

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and turned to you. You sat two rows behind him on his right. He mouthed a simple thank you and smiled at you. You winked at him and smiled back, but instead of your normal smile, you showed him your fangs again. Stiles widened his eyes and quickly turned back to look ahead. If you didn't know why he reacted like that, you'd definitely be confused. But luckily, you knew what it was doing to him. 

With your head down, you chuckled to yourself for a moment, thinking about how you could continue to drive him up the wall before he would do something about it. 

After class, Stiles and you headed to the lunch break, where you would meet up with the others as usual. Since the weather was nice as usual, you waited outside by one of the picnic benches for your friends. Stiles was already sitting on the bench while you leaned against the table and waited for Lydia. After all, she had promised to bring you something to eat the day before. 

The break went on as usual. Isaac spent it making stupid and unnecessary comments while Scott tried to reason with him. Stiles sat across from you and stared at you the whole time while you talked with Lydia and Allison. 

"What?" you asked when you finally noticed him looking at you the whole time.

"You have something in your teeth," he said, pointing to his own to show you where, "right there."

"You mean here?" you asked, opening your mouth as you ran your tongue over your incisor. And of course you took the chance again. Before you had opened your mouth, you extended your fangs and showed them in public in front of Stiles. 

Stiles gulped and had to pull himself together to not show his emotions using his gestures. "Mhm," he agreed without really talking and nodded. 

"Is it gone?" you asked, running your tongue over your teeth once more. 

He shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together. He could already feel the sweat forming on his forehead. Why you were showing him your teeth all the time, he couldn't explain.... except...

"Oh god," he muttered and stood up. He grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the table. Lydia cried out briefly as you were yanked away all at once, and looked at Stiles in shock. You shrugged as Stiles pulled you farther and farther away from the group, and only got the same shocked look back from Lydia that she had already given Stiles. 

As soon as you were away from your friends, Stiles pushed you against the wall of the school, where you were far away from everyone else. "You're doing this on purpose!"

"What?!" you asked faithfully. 

"You heard me, I know it. You're doing all of this on purpose!"

"Stiles, I'm afraid I still don't know what you're talking about," you replied while showing him your teeth once again. 

Stiles grunted and put his head back. “You need to put these pretty little fangs away or else-”

“Or what?”

“I can’t promise for you to walk properly the next few days.”

It always turned you on a lot when Stiles told you exactly what he was going to do to you, or when the dominant side of him came out. Nothing was more exciting than that. And so you couldn't wait until school was finally over. 

You were both in his Jeep on the way to Stiles when this feeling came over you. You couldn't wait until you were home, and so you risked everything. You looked at Stiles while he had his left hand on the wheel and his right hand casually resting on his lap. So you grabbed his hand and pulled it over to you. Stiles smiled at you briefly and then focused back on the road. 

First, you played with his fingers and gently stroked each finger with your index finger. You could already see that goose bumps were spreading on Stiles' arm. Next, you took his hand in yours and brought it to your lips to place a kiss on the back of his hand. Stiles hummed softly beside you and pressed his hand against your lips again for you to place another kiss on his hand. However, as you did so, you opened your mouth slightly and thus Stiles' fingers touched your teeth and not just your normal teeth, but your fangs. 

Stiles jerked his head to the side and looked at you with a look you couldn't identify. So you took a step further and opened your mouth even wider. Stiles' pinky was now right between your teeth, and he watched you very closely as you carefully nibbled on his pinky. 

Stiles had to concentrate hard to look ahead again at the road, after all, that was all he had ever imagined that you would include your fangs in your lovemaking. And when you nibbled lightly one more time, Stiles jerked his hand back and clamped down on the wheel with it while now indicating well above the speed limit. 

Not a minute later, Stiles stopped the car in a small driveway in the woods, where hopefully no one would see you. He stopped the engine and pulled the handbrake before reaching for your wrist and pulling you slightly over the console. A soft gasp escaped your lips, darkening Stiles' eyes.

"I warned you."

"I know," you whispered, pressing your lips together as you waited to see what Stiles was going to do to you now. He put his other hand on your cheek and pulled you even closer to him, finally placing his lips on yours. The kiss was directly full of energy, he wasted no time and to show how much he wanted you right now. 

To give you a better grip, you placed your right hand on his thigh and gripped it tightly once. Stiles gave a short moan and broke away from your lips to see what you were doing. You smiled seductively at him and kept moving your hand up until your palm was now over the distinct bulge in his jeans. Stiles licked his lips before biting his bottom lip and sitting down a little further in his seat. 

You pressed your lips on his again while you continued to stroke him through his pants and could feel exactly how his penis twitched and became harder and harder in your hand. Stiles already had one hand around you and his palm was on your back, pressing you closer with it. The other hand found its way to your clothed chest, where he tried to pinch your nipple through the shirt and bra. 

His tongue was already fighting with yours, and again and again a soft moan escaped your soft, plump lips. You detached yourself from his lips and looked at his jeans, where his dick was already clearly visible through the fabric. Already missing your lips, Stiles pressed several sloppy kisses to your neck while you went for the button on his jeans. 

He found your sweet spot and sucked and licked on it until you couldn't stop moaning. It distracted you so much that you couldn't concentrate on freeing his dick from his pants. So Stiles did that for you. Hastily, he opened the rest of his pants and pulled his erect penis out of his boxers. One look at his dick was enough for you. Pre-cum was already leaking from his tip. 

You couldn't wait any longer and wrapped your hand around his erection. Stiles hoisted briefly, again and again he had to get used to the fact that you had ice-cold hands, but that was quickly forgotten, as you licked all the way from the base to the tip where this big and pulsating vein was staring right at you. 

Your tongue was swirling over the tip of his penis, trying to savor the taste of it, but Stiles couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel him pushing your head down onto his erection to finally wrap your lips around his dick. “Please, stop teasing.”

“I’m not teasing,” you mumbled against his dick, the vibration of your voice sending another wave of emotions through his body. 

“Then just suck it.”

“As you wish,” you whispered, and wasted no more time. As you slid him into your mouth, another hiss left Stiles’s lips. Taking your time to get used to his length, you kept one hand at the base of his cock, while your mouth worked on the upper half. You were trying to get as much in as possible. You stroked the part of him that wouldn't fit with one hand and fondled his balls with the other, so that no inch of him was left neglected while you pleasured him with your mouth. Simultaneously sucking and stroking on him, Stiles grabbed your hair, leading you down farther onto him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You couldn’t hold back the moan that was trying to slip out, and you could feel him twitching in your mouth. Stiles couldn't have been shy about his sounds if he'd wanted to - he panted and moaned in time with your motions, especially on the few occasions you slowed your pace to pay special attention to the sensitive head of his cock, circling it with your tongue.

“Oh fuck, taking my cock like a champ. You want some more, huh?” Stiles grunted and pulled at your hair, so you were looking up at him while you were still sucking his cock. Saliva was running down your throat, and Stiles couldn’t think of something that was more beautiful right now than the sight of your lips wrapped around his penis. 

“I asked you a question.”

“Mhm,” you nodded and saw Stiles’ eyes darken. Suddenly, he was jerking his hip up, hitting the back of your throat once again. 

“Open up wide for me.” 

As told, you opened your mouth wide for him and let him fuck your mouth. Your hands were on his knees, trying to keep you in place while Stiles was fucking your mouth like there was no tomorrow. But Stiles had to stop himself, he wanted to make sure to give you the same pleasure. He grabbed your head and pushed you off of him, immediately missing the warmth of your lips and mouth. 

You were licking your lips and wiped all the fluids from your mouth with the back of your hand, while you kept looking at Stiles, waiting for him to give you orders. 

“Backseat now.”

You did as told and crawled into the back seat. Stiles followed you and made sure you had enough room by pushing the driver's seat forward a bit before he sat down next to you and pulled you onto his lap. His erection was still free of clothes, and you could feel him right between your bodies. Automatically, you began to move your hips on him, causing friction that made you moan. Stiles leaned in and kissed you, desperate and needy, and you almost immediately let a moan slip from your mouth and into his.

Meanwhile, he worked on your shorts, opening the button and the zipper before his hand slipped past your underwear. You gasped as you felt his fingers right between your folds, gathering all the slick. “You’re already so wet for me,” he hummed against your lips. 

“Please just take it off,” you begged. Stiles wasted no time and helped you to take off your shorts, but he stopped at your lingerie. A smirk was set on his lips as his fingers deftly pushed your panties to the side, teasing your entrance with two of them. “Is this all from me?” As the words left him, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your skin, lips against your shoulder, slowly making their way to your neck. 

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head back to give him more access, trying to grind against his fingers. “Please, Stiles. Want you,” you whined, desperate to have anything from him at the moment, but mostly you just wanted to ride him already. 

“You want me what? Have to be specific, babe,” he said, slipping the tips of his fingers in a bit, just barely giving you a taste of what you were craving so much at the moment.

“Want you in me, Stiles. Just need you to fill me up please,” your words were breathy and desperate, and Stiles’ grin was wide. Without warning, he slid the two digits in, thumb brushing against your clit.

The pace at which he slid his fingers in and out of you was slow and torturous. With your knees buckling, you let go of your shirt to grab a hold of his shoulders and leaned your head against it, voice cracking as you spoke again. “Not- Not your fingers,” you gasped.. ”I need your cock, please, Stiles.”

He let out a light chuckle against your neck, slowly withdrawing his fingers. A whine left your lips as you felt his fingers be replaced with the tip of his dick sliding against your entrance and as he started to push into you, you slowly let yourself sink down onto him.

“Oh god, Stiles,” you wailed, pulling away from him and tilting your head backward. “Stiles, fuck, you’re so big.” There were tears in your voice, and Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheeks to ignore the forming smile.

Stiles pulled his face away, his head once again thrown back against the backseat as moans escaped his mouth, “Fuck, gorgeous. You’re always so tight,” his words burn through you as he slowly fills you up all the way. But he couldn’t wait to be buried deep within you. So with a harsh thrust he was balls deep, a loud gasp filled the car as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to steady you. He moaned when your tight walls swallowed his cock. Using his thumb, he played with your clit as he rocked his hips slowly to build up the pace.

And that’s all the permission you need as you start to drag your hips across his, the tip of his dick nudging your walls. You moan out when he starts to thrust up into you ever so slightly. 

“You’re taking me so well,” Stiles murmured as he laid his head down on your cleavage and lightly nibbled your skin. He built up the pressure with his thumb on your clit and could feel you clenching. Stiles knew he wouldn't last long like this, he loved it when you rode him. Thank god, did your strength allow you to have the stamina for this. 

"Oh god, Stiles," you moaned. The pressure in your belly was increasing, and you could feel your orgasm slowly approaching. “Please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep going like that, babe,” Stiles groaned, placing his lips faintly on top of yours. “Shit.”

Feeling his member twitch, you heard him say “Fuck Y/N I’m close. Can you cum for me?” Tightening around him, you moaned “Stiles I’m gonna cum.”

Your heartbeat raised, your cunt tightened into something that made it so easy for him to spill.  “Sti- Stiles, Oh fuck-” your sentence was ruined by a moan, your body shaking as your mouth remains open.

You felt my orgasm hitting you like a brick. Cumming all over Stiles’ cock, you had to push his hand off of your clit, the feeling getting too much for you. 

Under you, Stiles moaned, his face scrunched up as he could feel his release at the edge of him. Your cunt closed around him as you were riding out your orgasm, clinging to his cock, and your lips captured his as he moaned into your mouth. One last clench of you and you had him. He spilled everything he had for you inside your tight walls, and you absorbed the lustful moan he always gave you when he came. 

Slowly, you came to a stop and sat on Stiles for a while, while you caught your breath. The beads of sweat on Stiles' forehead showed how intense it was just then. The windows were also slightly fogged, no wonder with the rising heat in the car. You could feel him softening inside you, but Stiles kept you on his laps with his strong hands on your thighs. 

“God, Y/N. The things you do to me,” Stiles breathed out and captured your lips softly. 

“Guess we have to thank them,” you replied with a smirk and showed him your fangs again, biting on your lip with them. 

“Put them away right now!” he warned you. “Or I swear to you, I’m taking you all over again, but this time on the hood of my car.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your lips against his again. “Sounds like a plan.”

#stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski one shot #teen wolf #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski smut #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien x reader #stiles stilinski x vampire #requested

[7thleveldown]

A list no-one asked for, or probably wanted, but.... meh.

Stiles Stilinski

Bones (Stiles/OFC) When a summer party is interrupted by a disruptive ex of Jess', Stiles tries to help. (2,724 words)

Collide (Stiles/OFC) Grace just wants to get home after a shitty day, but a light derails her plans. (3,830 words)

Trees and Tennis Balls (Stiles/Reader) Stiles plans get interrupted when his best friend makes him jump. (3,018 words)

Best Friend (Stiles/Reader) You didn't know why you were surprised when Stiles let you down. Again. He never meant to, but it just kept happening. (5,166 words)

Night-mare (Stiles/OFC) When Stiles is pulled away by pack business for the umpteenth time, his close friend Nat decides a decision has to be made, and she can't ask Stiles to make it. (5,363 words)

Dylan O'Brien

Showers (Dylan/Reader) It's a been a long day and a relaxing shower is a nice way to end it. You climb in alone, but it doesn't stay that way for long. (Explicit, 1,168 words)

Barefoot on the grass (Dylan/Reader) A summer barbeque with friends leads to a lovely evening. (1,634 words)

That Suit (Dylan/Reader) Comments at a party lead to hurt, but what will he think? (Explicit, 2,751 words)

#7th writes #dylan o'brien #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien fanfiction #fanfiction #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brien x reader

[starlightandfairies]

Can you write a fluff imagine for Dylan . Where Dylan is dating younger than him . so y/n is turning 21 and she doesn’t want to make a big deal about her birthday and she told Dylan she doesn’t want anything she just wanted to have a simple dinner but of course he didn’t list to her and did a surprise birthday party for her and brought her family from overseas because she haven’t seen them in 3 years she would cry and you do the rest .

Description: Dylan surprises his girlfriend with a surprise party for her birthday despite the reader just wanting something simple.

Warnings: Swearing, she/her pronouns, fluff, angst, age gap (9 years) Dylan is 30 and the reader is 21

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view, F/F = Favourite flavour

Word Count: 1,116

First Person's POV

Honestly, I didn't really like all the attention on my birthday, it was coming up in about a week and I kept telling Dylan that I didn't want anything fancy and just wanted something simple. Like dinner at my favourite restaurant and maybe a movie seeing as there were things showing that I wanted to see.

I came home from work, happy to see Dylan and just wanting to relax from my day. Dylan greeted me at the door, placing a kiss on my forehead and wrapping me up tightly in his arms. I giggled at the affection, hugging him back and planting a chaste kiss on his lips.

"How was work?" He questioned, staring at me with adoration and with infinite love.

"Boring, there weren't many people showing up, so I was just standing around all day." Dylan hummed in response, he kissed my cheek and then picked me up. Setting me down on the couch, he rested my feet on his lap and threw my shoes off to give me a foot massage.

"So, for your birthday... are you sure you don't want to do anything? It's your birthday! You're my girl and we should do something special." I smiled at Dylan's persistent concern but I didn't really want to do anything but go out.

"I'm sure, babe, I don't really want to do anything extravagant. I love you, thanks for the thought though." Dylan nodded, kissed my cheek and we just spoke about each other's day.

One Week Later

It was finally my birthday, I was looking forward to just going out to dinner with Dylan and doing cute coupley stuff for the evening. I came home, showered and fancied myself up for the evening. America definitely was different to where I grew up, obviously similar but still very different to what I knew about.

Dylan had his hand on my knee as he drove me to the restaurant, he had a playlist of all my favourite songs playing through the stereo and even though he didn't like some of them he still sang along with me. When we made it to the parking lot, Dylan, being the gentleman that he is, opened the door for me and took my hand, leading me into the building.

I furrowed my eyebrows as we walked past the little stand for getting a table. Dylan gently pushed me in front of him, guiding me to a door and he knocked a couple of times before it was pulled slightly open. I turned to Dylan with a confused gaze, humming slightly as he guided me into the room. It was dark, there were no noises and Dylan was acting suspiciously.

I jumped into Dylan's chest as a chorus of 'surprise' reached my ears, The lights flashed on, and a gasp escaped my lips as I realised what this was. Dylan booked a private room, decorated with all my favourite decor items and colour schemes. I saw my family all littered throughout the room, large smiles on their face, I ran up to them hugging them all and trying to refuse the tears from coming from my eyes. Not wanting to turn the special occasion into a really bad scenario.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered excitedly to my parents, still in ecstasy over the idea of seeing them here on my birthday. They both pointed to Dylan he was greeting and thanking my friends and family members. I blushed, knowing that I was lucky with him and that Dylan spoilt me rotten. I walked over to him, hugging him tightly and kissing his lips. He hummed winking at me and letting me know that there was more to the surprise.

Everyone sat around the obnoxiously large table, eating meals and giving me cards and presents. The attention was a little overwhelming but I did like that Dylan didn't listen and brought my family all the way from overseas.

I leaned over to Dylan, who was sitting next to me, he was holding my hand under the table and making silly faces and jokes with my younger cousins who stared around the room like it was filled with candy. Dylan turned to me, a bright smile on his lips, I hummed softly and gleamed at him.

"Thank you, this means a lot, I love you, Dylan."

"Of course, I love you and I wanted today to be perfect for you." He whispered, making me giggle as he made a goofy face as I blushed and continued to thank him.

Dylan got everyone's attention after dinner was over, he stood up at the table, and everyone held onto their glass as Dylan gave a toast.

"Before the cake comes out, I just want to wish Y/N a happy birthday. You are the light of my world and I hope that tonight has been better than what you could hope for. I love you, sweetheart, know that when it comes to special days like this. I will go all out, I will make sure that you are spoilt rotten and that you have a great time. I love you, sweetheart." Everyone raised their glasses, cheered my name and sipped on their drink. Dylan brought out a very large cake, it could've been a wedding cake. Obviously wasn't but I loved the fact that there were little details on it that Dylan knew I liked about cake.

The cake had been cut and split around the table, I was given the biggest slice and it had the most icing. I loved icing, I loved sugar and by the end of it I managed to get some on my nose and chin. Dylan chuckled once he saw me, he cleaned my face and then started dancing around with the kids as the music started playing. I danced with my parents, enjoying time with my family. Still getting over the fact that Dylan brought my family over all the way from where I grew up.

My younger cousins, dragged me over to Dylan, forcing me to dance with him and chanting 'kiss him' until I did or their parents scolded them, leaving them alone. As I was dancing with him, I felt tears welling in my eyes and I hugged him tightly.

"Why are you crying, sweetheart?" He whispered, kissing the top of my head, I sniffled with a sad smile and stare at him lovingly.

"You're just so sweet! You brought my, entire family, over! You put this whole thing together, you didn't have to but you did. I love you!" I blurted out, continuing to hold him tightly and giggling once I heard his breathy chuckle.

#dylan o'brien imagines #masterlist #requests #fluff #dylan o'brien one shot #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brien gifs #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brian icons #dylan o'brian gifs #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien x you #dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan o'brien fluff #dylan o'brien x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski

[hoes4dylanobrien]

It’s Just A Cigarette | 3

WARNINGS: swearing, underage drinking, social pressure

wc. 1,982

tag list: @roxic93​

"Low-key hang out, huh?” You mused, eying the packed apartment booming with music audible from the first floor when you and Colin made your way up to the third floor of the five story walk up of the old tenement building. Booze was visible far as the eye could see, with folks chatting, making out, and dancing uninhibited, among other things. 

Colin shot you a cheeky grin, winking as he herded you through the door, his arms braced on your shoulders and hot breath at your ear:

“So I lied a lil’. I know you would’a argued with me otherwise.”

“So you do it anyway without giving me a heads up?” 

“What’s the expression? Better to beg for forgiveness...?”  His gaze lowered to your mouth, which felt hot all of a sudden, and suddenly you forgot what you were annoyed about. Instinctually you licked your bottom lip, which he fixated on, brown eyes turning to darkened amber. 

“Ay, man, ‘bout time you showed up. Beginnin’ to think you got mugged or somethin’-” a darker skinned man yelled out, red cup in hand as he took sight of you. “And this must be... Melodie?” 

“Marnie,” you corrected, reaching out to shake his hand hesitantly with a cautious smile. He surprised you by taking you into his arms in a hug. “Oh,” you mumbled. “My bad, I’m a hugger. And you bein’ tight with my boy here, well, just felt right. I’m Andjy, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you replied. He leaned back, you doing the same as you rubbed your elbows somewhat awkwardly. 

Colin stepped forward, hand light on your waist as he pointed to the others. “And that’s Petra, Aria, and DeShaun.”

“Hi,” you greeted.

Petra, a small artsy chick with an intimidating stare, looked you up and down, frowning. She was the only one who seemed unhappy to meet you. “I didn’t catch where you know Colin from?” She asked snottily.

You glanced up at Colin, who now was preoccupied with his phone. 

“Oh, Colin didn’t tell you?” 

"Nope.” She said, seeming somewhat amused by it. As if you weren’t significant enough to know, or to remember. You swallowed hard. “We lived together for a short while a bit ago.” 

“Why?” 

Nosy much, you thought.

“My parents took him in when he was about to age out of the foster system.” 

“Oh,” realization dawned on her face, now looking pleased. “He’s your brother?” 

“Well, not really-”

"Yo Colin,” a guy yelled, cutting short your explanation. “Got a bet goin’ here, need you to settle it.” 

Colin grinned, yelling over the cocaghany of noise. “Aight ima be right over.” He leaned in, mint breath and aftershave washing over me again: “You gonna be all right here?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, forcing a smile. “Sure. Take your time.” You didn’t want to make him feel obligated to stick by your side even if all you wanted to do was just that. Cooler, more mature and independent Marnie could handle herself.

“You sure sure?” He raised a thick brow, gaze searching yours for the truth. 

“I’ll be fine. Go on and have fun.” You smiled encouragingly. 

He brushed his knuckles against your upper arm, the one littered with all the rings. The cool press of the metal coupled with his presence had the hair on the back of your neck raising. “Back before you know it,” he promised, voice gravelly. 

 You kept rehearsing your new mantra about independence as you felt the immediate sense of loss (and slight panic) at seeing Colin walk away, also reminding yourself he would be back soon, and if not, you knew where to find him; it wasn’t as if the apartment was that large, although it was decently sized. 

You briefly wondered how he paid for it all. He had a large flat screen TV and accompanying video game sets, several pieces of nice-looking even if second-hand furniture, a tiki inspired half bar, a pool table with darts, and a slew of pieces of out-there, neon colored art and film mementos that was so quintessentially Colin littering the painted walls and exposed brick, Coupled with the awesome neighborhood, he was living a bachelor and indie college kid’s dream.  It had to cost a fortune, yet as far as you knew, Colin wasn’t working, and NYU was hardly cheap. 

I”ve never seen Colin like that,” one of the girl friends that Colin pointed out, said. You think you remember her name being Aria. She was much kinder, with a sweetheart face, and a really killer fashion sense. She looked like she knew a lot, but not the type to lord it over others. It endeared you to her. 

“I’m sorry?” You shook your head, trying to catch up. 

“Colin,” she said, glancing over where the blond was talking animatedly in a huddle of girls and guys, beer in one hand as he seemed to be regaling them with some story or other. 

“He’s kind of overbearing with you, isn’t he? Like an older brother, but not quite...” Her gaze fixed back on you, searchingly. Looking for something. You felt like a bug under a microscope. Being popular, intelligent, and intuitive on top of pretty just seemed unfair. 

“No, I don’t think so. He’s just looking out for me. This is my first party, and I’m sorta his responsibility for the weekend. He’d probably be less hands-on if we were back in Jersey.” 

Your mind flashed to distinct memories of him not acting dissimilar, however. Times where he’d hover when he invited his guy friends over to the house, or act just a little too interested in what you and Wyatt, your then boyfriend, were up to. 

“Right,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. 

“We’re not related, you know.” You blurted out, blushing at the sudden rise of her eyebrows. “Sorry, that was random. I was just wanting to clarify the conversation from earlier with Petra. Yeah, we lived together for a bit but we aren’t siblings and we aren’t related by blood. Just want to make that clear...” 

“Got it. To be honest, I wasn’t really listening, but since you brought it up,” she tilted her head to the side, “you don’t really look alike at all. I know Colin’s not a natural blond much as he tries to protest otherwise, but I’m fairly sure he doesn’t have curly hair hidden under that bleach blond Eminem look,” she giggled. 

You laughed with her, feeling more at ease in her presence. “Yeah, can verify that’s not the case.” 

As the night went on, you stuck close with Aria, who fortunately seemed content in your company, and even had a chance to get to know Luca and DeShaun more. Andjy, who had left to start the pool game, seemed to be killing it, taking people’s cash left and right, while Colin had yet to come back, now drinking and dancing with his shirt off which showed off all his tattoos, and a little dark happy trail that led into his sweats that you were definitely not looking at. 

“So ‘first party’ girl, you wanna drink?” Asked Aria. “I’m assuming this is also your first taste of alcohol, although the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

You bit your lip. “Actually, I’ve had some wine at home with dinner.” 

“That doesn’t count,” she smirked. 

“I don’t know...” 

“Come on, try some. I promise to hold your hair back if you puke.” She laughed. 

“Okay,” you caved. “Not a lot, though. What’s that?” You pointed to hers. “Tequila. You’re not ready for that, though. Here, lemme get you some vodka and a chaser. That’s what my mom started me on, haven’t looked back since,” she winked, pouring and mixing the drinks. 

You watched her, wondering whether you were making a mistake. Then you remembered you were alone, probably for the first time in your 17 years, not including a short stint at camp several summers in a row in your tween years. You were supervised then. This time was completely different, and you were older. 

“Bottoms up,” she says, holding out the red cup to you. You take it, reluctantly, seeing her watchful gaze on you. You smile, tossing it back slowly at first, then quickly, as the awful acidic taste overwhelmed your taste buds. You coughed a little as you swallowed, earning some laughs around you. 

“Damn, Ari, you are a bad influence,” DeShaun teased, not disapprovingly. 

“What is this again?” You asked when you were more coherent. “It tastes like nail polish remover.” 

“Well la de da,” piped up Petra. 

Aria laughed. “Shut your mouth, it’s vodka and cranberry, top notch vodka at that.” 

“Girl’s got taste, don’t hate,” DeShaun retorted. 

They kept on talking, but as you listened it became less and less clear to you what they were saying. 

“Girl, you okay?” Aria rested her hand on your knee, trying to grab your attention.  “I'm good,” you mumbled, rising. You suddenly had to go to the bathroom. “Where’s the bathroom?” 

“Down the hall to the left,” she said, eying you. “You sure you’re good? Want me to come?” 

“She doesn’t need a damn babysitter,” snapped Petra. “Let her be. She’ll find her way.” 

You drifted off in the direction mentioned, which was easier said than done between navigating through the crowd, and your increasingly dizzy, forgetful state of mind. It had only been one drink, and yet you knew without a question you were definitely drunk. 

“Hey, you mind?” Said the guy inside the bathroom, whom you’d accidentally walked in on without knocking. “Sorry,” you said, quickly shutting the door. There was a woman inside with him on her knees; you may have been inexperienced, but even you understood what was clearly happening between the two. 

“Bathroom taken?” Said someone beside you. You hadn’t noticed him walk up behind you and you took a step back. “Yeah. Don’t think they’re coming out anytime soon, though...” 

He laughed, a sort of hoarse sound. “Shit, that’s rude as fuck.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I wouldn’t normally do this, but I live next door and you’re welcome to use mine.” 

You looked at him skeptically. In your inebriated state, you were feeling abnormally distrustful. 

“Yeah, I get it. Strange guy inviting you into his apartment, I know how it looks but I promise I don’t mean anything by it, apart from wanting to help.”

“It’s just... I don’t even know who you are.” 

“Dominic,” he says, offering an outstretched hand. It felt calloused in yours. “And you are?” 

“Marnie,” you reply. 

“Well, Marnie, now we know each other,” he grinned ear to ear; it was dark, but you could just make it out. “Okay,” you said.

“Okay.” 

You flushed the toilet, washing your hands in the sink. For some stranger’s bathroom, it was pleasantly clean, which you appreciated. 

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom,” you said shyly. 

“’Course. Couldn’t let a pretty girl suffer like that,” he winked. You blushed. He was fairly attractive, now that you could see him in decent lighting. He was clearly older, however, maybe even older than Colin by a few years. 

“So I haven’t seen you around before. How do you know Colin?” 

“I’m his...” You tried to think of a good descriptor. “Friend,” you settled on. You were, you supposed, weren’t you? It was less messy than the reality. 

“Interesting,” he responded, watching you curiously. 

“What?” 

He shook his head. “Just, from what I’ve seen of the guy, he doesn’t exactly do female friends, if you catch my drift.” 

“He’s got a few. I met them today,” you defended. 

“Just an observation.” 

A knock sounded at the door. It was pretty loud. With raised eyebrows, Dominic approached the door. “Coming.” He said.

The door opened to reveal Colin, looking pissed. “Oh, Colin! Hi, how are you-”

“You son of a bitch,” he growled, lunging at Dominic. 

#Colin #colin x reader #colin x you #notokay #notokayfanfic #dylan o'brien #dylanobrien #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan obrien fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #au #fic #fiction #rpf #not okay #eventual romance #slowburn #eventual smut #fluff #romance #trauma #miniseries #stiles x you #stiles x y/n #voidstiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #Stiles Stilinski smut #angst #insecurity

[dylandrhodes]

Like Blood and a Lemon

Dylan O'brien/ Reader fanfiction | W/c: 14.8k | Warnings: Explicit smut

Based on this ask request: can I request this “alternatively, they’re in a room full of people and somehow only register each other’s presence… one character sneaks away and the other follows and after a little banter they kiss in seclusion” for dylan please?

Um so! here have a whole entire mess of a big old fic? This got SO out of hand y'all, blame Dyl's slut era and my inability to be concise. My first smut in a long while so... Hope it's not too rusty? feedback would mean the world to me ❤️ I really really really hope you enjoy! AHhh 💗😊 also thank you @theinternetisfulloftrash and @dobrienwrites for the help with idea's/ encouragement and editing 😊😊😊😊😊

You knew he was here. 

You didn’t bother casting your eyes around the dimly lit outdoor space, the heat that prickled along the base of your neck was confirmation enough. You could never really narrow it down as to why his presence was consuming, a pulse in the centre of the room that needled under your skin, ran you hot, every time.  

Your personal running theory was that his big-headed “too cool for every room” attitude was so intensely repulsive that you could physically feel it, like a thick breeze, or more accurately, a bad smell in the air. 

You wrinkled your nose at the thought of his smug stance, hands in pockets and skimming gaze that never regarded anyone properly (he wouldn’t stoop so low as to make eye contact unless he had some biting remark to make to you). You lifted your champagne glass to your lips, letting the bubbled burn that kissed your throat and chest to distract you from the thought.  

The reception was packed; loud music filled the marquee and you enjoyed the moment of reprieve from the endless conversations that the night had been. You took a few steps closer to waist high oversized potted plant used to disguise one of the poles that held up the structure. 

After another long sip from your glass, you placed it down on the edge of the planter, lifted one foot just so to ease the pinch of your heel, rolled your ankle in a few circles to the left and then right before you repeated the same motion with the other foot.

Bridesmaid duties the past six months had been plentiful and consuming, rewarding, and fun… but also draining and expensive. Georgie was a long term friend, a girl you’d met in kindergarten and hadn’t left your side for too long since then. Through university, jobs, living in different states you’d remained close, and the offer to be in her wedding was a joy you couldn't pass up. 

However, helping organise the multiple pre-wedding events, the dress searching, and helping Georgie with any small thing she needed had been very tedious at times and you were looking forward to a weekend with nothing at all planned but a long nap and continuing your Criminal Minds rewatch. 

A small sigh crossed your lips as your hand reached across your body, hooked into the sore muscle of your shoulder and rubbed gently, a circle of your fingers to push the tension away. 

Your hand dragged up your neck and into your hair to pull free the literal handful of pins holding up the draping of your hairstyle. Now that the ceremony and pictures were over, you knew you could let your hair down, literally and metaphorically, and the crown of your head ached at the release. 

Once you’d dropped the pins into the edge of the planter, a promise in your mind to come back for them later, you combed one hand through your hair, took your glass in the other to finish the now somewhat warm champagne. 

The now warm bubbles weren’t as appetising but had helped take the edge of the tingle under your skin, the thrum through your spine, the one that told you he was still here, still near enough you couldn’t ignore it. The feeling was almost too familiar now, the kindling of disdain for the persisting awful company you kept finding yourself in these past six months. 

You reassured yourself it wouldn’t be too long till your girls returned from the bathroom and the chatter of friends would wash out the feeling of him, the anger that kissed at your pulse points in his presence.

The empty glass clinked as you placed it down once more on the wide lip of the concrete planter before your hands came to fuss with and smooth out the fabric of your dress. It was ankle-length and two-toned, the fabric that fit around your chest in a way that complimented the curve of your breasts was a deeper sage green and the length of the fabric from the fitted waist down was an almost pink ivory. 

Georgie may have sent you a little insane when she’d told you she’d rejected the fifth makeup artist she’d trialled and needed you to help her find another, but her persistent nature and attention to detail meant you had a gorgeous dress for the event. 

You sighed and cast your eyes around the space.  Your gaze caught the full and thriving dance floor, watching as women’s hair flowed and bounced, arms waving around their bodies, watched men laugh and push open their suit jackets as they rolled their hips. 

You surveyed the men of the crowd once more, an unconscious appraisal, searching for a glimpse of what if, of a smile worth seeking out later, even just for a dance... to get close- the song changed and bright laughter drew your eyes away. 

Your gaze caught on a couple by the bar; a woman who wouldn't be much older than you in a simple black gown, leant back into the arms of her partner, a tall blond man with kind eyes. 

His arms were bundled around her waist, hand flat near her hip, his wedding ring stark against the dark silk of her dress. They were swaying together now to the swell of music, and you watched as he pressed his mouth to her ear, whispered something that made her giggle again, shoulders arching in as her cheeks scrunched with happiness. 

Her hand met his on the low of her hip, tangled them together and she turned and faced him before she led her man out onto the dancefloor, walking backwards and mouthing the lyrics to him. 

Something blue and warm twisted from under your ribs, your breath caught and you blinked away the intimacy of the witnessed moment. You pressed your fingertips to the crest of your ribs, the soft skin between your breasts as if trying to soothe the invisible ache. You drew a lingering breath in, held it for a moment before you exhaled, let it go.  

Weddings always had a way of doing that, making love feel big, but like this tangible thing just out of reach, if only your arm reached a little bit further it could be yours too. It was the ache of that too always, the way your fingers could never quite wrap around it no matter how you tried. 

A sudden touch to the middle of your back between your shoulders made you jump from your thoughts. Startled, you spun around quickly as a gasp caught in your lips. 

“God touchy much? Jesus, girl, chill out” Dylan’s voice was low and firm, twisted in the usual tone of disdain it always held in your company, complemented by a patronising laugh at the end of his statement. 

You rolled your eyes and your arms crossed your chest as you regarded the man in front of you. 

Even in your heels you had to keep your chin tilted up to keep his gaze and you did so defiantly; you wouldn't give this man any kind of pleasure, even the simple pleasure of letting him think he intimated you with his height. 

“What do you want?” You huffed, straightened your spin to stand at your full height, and watched the smirk that tucked itself into his lips. The honey brown of his eyes appraised you, drew from your head down before his gaze flickered up to catch your own. 

A champagne glass was extended to you and you accepted, careful not to let your manicured hand touch Dylan’s, your brow curled upwards at the surprising gesture.

The glass was cold in your touch and you wished to press it against your neck, where warmth had begun to quell. 

It wasn’t because of Dylan - he didn’t intimidate you, even in the sharp lines of his tux or the fact he was actually keeping your gaze. No, it was just the end of summer and your hair was thick against your neck. 

“God you’d think I’d just offered you a loaded gun. Relax sweetheart, the waitress handed me the extra one to empty her tray and you were the person closest to me, I’m not making a move on you” He grumbled and rolled his eyes, lifted his own glass to his lips to take a long sip. 

You looked away as he swallowed, the line of his throat obnoxious in his tux and the crisp white collar of his shirt. 

You scoffed at his words, looked across at him as you pressed the rim of the glass gently to your bottom lip. The fiery contempt grew hot and frustrated in your chest. You hated that he was so good at pulling this out of you, how he commanded your attention, how you needed to see his discomfort, ached to break that stupid cool guy demeanour... just for once.  

“If that’s your move you might want to work a little harder big boy, no wonder you’re dateless tonight” You hummed and sipped the champagne, cold and crisp like you preferred and you chased the sweet bite of it with a lick of your lips. 

His eyes watched your mouth with a frown and angry curiosity. He had a way of looking at you like that like he needed to tell you off for something, like you personally were responsible for his poor mood. 

You’d seen Dylan be perfectly charming with others but when he engaged with you, it was like he was repulsed; all cut off sentences, short regards or it was digging teases, needling remarks to get under your skin, garnering a reaction. Just a game to win before walking away. 

You hypothesized that he simply wasn’t used to women calling him out on his shit, maybe you were one of the first people to just show him you were so completely disinterested in the 'cool boy' act. 

It was like he expected you to blush and giggle and push at his shoulder, agree with his jokes even when they didn’t really make sense or act interested in the way he’d drone on about some topic like an expert. He regarded you almost like he couldn’t understand you, you didn’t fit his usual script or some precedent he held in his mind. 

“Aw, you've been watching me? Checking I didn’t bring another woman tonight and break your heart?” he asked and you let out a dry cold laugh, swallowing your biting response demanding that of course you weren’t checking. 

You couldn't care less if Dylan was hopelessly dateless or bought a whole entire surprise wife along. It was just that it was hard to picture Dylan without some tall beautiful girl on his arm (as he usually had), if not the same girl he’d brought to the rehearsal dinner. Mainly you had wondered what poor girl he’d drag along to essentially ignore all night, like he tended to do. 

So yes, you’d be surprised to know he hadn’t used his plus one, again, not that you cared, but now you’d have to endure him going all smooth flirt Dylan trying to pick up since he was here alone. 

Before you could reply Dylan was speaking again, taking a step closer, making you tip your head back further to keep his eye contact. 

“Besides, it’s not me being alone tonight you should be worrying about, the whole ‘beautiful bridesmaid all alone at the wedding’ act really isn’t going to do it for most guys” He exhaled, a smug grin on his lips. 

“You know a smile wouldn’t hurt sweetheart, or a laugh... maybe even looking like you actually want to be here” His voice was low and condescending. 

You wanted to tip the end of his champagne glass as he sipped it, make him choke a little and sputter the alcohol all over his tuxedo. 

You swallowed your frustration, not letting him win by seeing your annoyance as you parted your lips and raised the hand not holding your glass to your chest. “Oh, Dyl” you said, paused for dramatic effect, because really- fuck this asshole. 

Telling you to smile more? 

Really? 

He had no idea how much you’d put in to make this day work. 

He would never care to think you’d been up since five, had problem solved a missing garter, sourced cat allergy medication for the bride’s mother and intercepted an uncle that was very much NOT on the guest list. 

Not to mention, you’d done it all with a bright smile on your face and in heels and a dress that while flattering, was tight on your chest with each breath (in truth half your energy had been making sure you didn’t spill out of said dress while running around like a mad woman)

The bastard had probably rolled out of bed after nine, had champagne with the other groomsmen and played video games in his boxers before taking his time to get into his tuxedo. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” your fingers trailed over the top of your breasts, found your gold pendant necklace and fingered the chain, forced yourself not to grin when you watched Dylan’s eyes fall to where you’d drawn his attention.

Boys, they really were so easy. 

“You don’t have to tease me like a lovesick little schoolboy just to tell me that, you know? You can just tell me, I can see how much you want to” You looked at him through your lashes, fluttering them in a few short blinks. 

You let your lips draw into a smile; a sweet grin you’d usually save for a boy you were actually interested in. In this case, playing the role of the coy agreeable girl Dylan always seemed to be frustrated that you weren’t. 

He almost faltered at your words, something in his eyes flickered sharp between blinks before he looked at you once more, eyes dark as he finished his drink, placing it down to the side before he tucked his hands into his pockets. 

Dylan took half a step closer, the corner of his jaw bunched, muscles jumped as he stared, quiet. He let out a soft exhale and his hand came up to touch a strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes, pushing it away as though it had personally wronged him. 

His eyes sharpened on you, a smirk twisted on his lips and he hummed. 

He dropped his hand to your bare shoulder, drew his fingertips along the line of it as he spoke. 

“Oh sweetheart, don’t play a game you’re not ready for” He all but whispered, close enough that the words were held between you like a secret. 

You could feel the heat of his body like this, smell the expensive clean scented cologne he wore, hear the intake of his breath. 

“Why?” You challenged,

“You scared I’ll win?” You continued, Your heart thrummed heavy and fast, the pulse in your neck fluttering under your skin, your throat tightened with a swallow. 

Dylan was close, the closest he’d ever been to you and it was kind of overwhelming - as much as you didn’t want to admit that. He was just all height and man and shoulders and had his intensity focused down on you. 

He smirked and shook his head. Dylan looked at you, brown eyes steeped in consideration and his hand dropped from your shoulder to retreat back into his pocket.  

“Sweetheart, we both know you don’t really wanna win, do you? You just want to make me work hard enough to prove to you I’m worth losing to, until I’m making you beg for me to win” His words were husky, low and deliberate, considering how they fell off his tongue. 

Oh. Beg. 

The heat that bloomed in the low of your stomach at that word surprised you, rushing up the centre of your body; a feeling as if you had missed the last step on a staircase or driven too quickly over a dip in the road. 

You were surprised at the tight pull behind your belly button, the twist of it; the way you wanted for just a moment, the need for more, to agree. It shocked you the way you felt the pull to draw closer, to keep Dylan’s eyes on you.  

He looked at you as his thumb and pointer finger took your chin in his firm hold, keeping you there as he hummed - a throaty sound - as if pleased at some answer he had found from just looking at you. 

“Yeah, thought so” He mumbled the words for himself and drew himself back with two careful steps. 

His eyes gave a heavy lidded blink as if suddenly coming back to himself and a hand reached up, lightly disturbing the handsome set of his styled hair. It was brushed back from his face, light gel holding it back in place, slightly askew now at his touch. 

Dylan’s hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket and pulled a smoke out between his pinched fingers. He lifted it to his mouth as if in reflex, a small frown marring his usual sure gaze, as if troubled by the action of drawing the unlit smoke to his lips. 

Dylan paused before he moved it instead up to be tucked behind his ear. His jaw jumped again as he looked up and past your shoulder, and a typical smug grin grew across his lips. 

His shoulders loosened, a hairline of a frown over his brow before his hand found his previously abandoned glass he collected himself with a sip of champagne. 

“Ladies” Dylan greeted with a nod of his head and you spun around to catch your three friends returning from the bathroom. 

Emily and Annie were a giggling mess half-tucked into each other's arms, fighting about something on the phone held between them. Olive, however, had her eyes sharply on you as she approached, gaze jumped between yourself and Dylan. 

“O'Brien” She nodded in greeting, the other two girls not caring to acknowledge him, tipsy laughter still spilling out from them as they seemed to be drafting a text of some kind, going off their bickering. 

Dylan nodded back, and tilted his glass at Olive in mocked cheers, used to the less than friendly regard. Olive hummed, unimpressed and looked at him blankly for a moment before her arm wrapped around yours, and she leaned against your side, her long hair brushing your bare arm. 

“Honey, Ems is finally texting headboard boy back after- well, you know- and we need your help” She requested and you quickly found the two other girls pressed into your space, a phone being pushed into your hands. 

“Please, come on you know you’re the best at d-” 

“Oooh my god” you laughed brightly, cut off Emily as you shook your head fondly 

“Okay, okay, I can help but I need more champagne” you laughed at your friend's happy little drunk cheers at your agreeance. 

Your cheeks flushed a sudden dark red, heat pricked at the back of your neck and your spine stiffened, the weight of eyes on you. 

You pulled your gaze up from the flurry of your friends, all curled hair and sweet perfumes, long nails pointing at the message. 

The tightness in your spine electrified when your gaze caught Dylan’s. 

He was already watching you with darkened eyes, staring shamelessly. His usual grin was replaced by the line of his firm pressed lips. Your breath caught. 

You raised your brows at him, a slight tilt of your head and a small grin as you glanced up, a silent ask of what he wanted. You waited for a roll of his eyes, a snarky comment before he made his exit to the dance floor. 

However he didn’t surrender; his gaze lingered, dropping over you like heavy rain and you shivered, your nipples pebbling against the satin of your dress. The intention was quiet, heavy and your heart thundered in your chest, you felt caught in his look. 

Your fingers curled tighter around the phone in your hold, and you swallowed thickly, lashes fluttered with a stuttered blink as you fought not to drop your gaze away. Dylan wouldn’t win this little game he’d decided to play, whatever it was, you wouldn’t allow him to. 

Dylan’s lips parted and his tongue brushed the swell of them in a quick pass. His hand reached to part the button of his blazer, hand tucked into his pants pocket. His eyes took you in once more, drew down over your neck shoulders - all of you. 

The familiar smirk grew across his lips once more, and he loitered for a moment longer before he gave a slight shake of his head and turned away from you. Your eyes dropped as soon as he stepped away, heat rushed heavy through your veins, and frustration singed at your pulse points. 

Your skin prickled cold with his absence and you tried to settle into your friend's rapid-fire words that were flurrying around you, tried to follow the words on the screen and make your thumbs coordinate with your brain and friend's suggestions. 

“What was that?” Olive’s voice was a low whisper in your ear and you just shook your head quickly, because... yeah, actually what the fuck was that? 

After another round of drinks and two sent texts later, you found yourself on the dancefloor crowded between Annie and a few unfamiliar faces, happily moving to the thudding bass of the music. 

The pair of you had tucked yourselves deeper into the crowd when you couldn’t chase the feeling of Dylan off your skin. Your body thrummed, your nerves had been awake and unsettled since that weird - moment, whatever you could even label it, and you had a feeling twisted through you that you couldn’t settle.  

The smug fuck probably was somewhere talking his way into some other girl's pants, riding high on making you feel uncomfortable, and teasing you. Dylan seemed to get some specific joy out of toying with you. It was like it was his favourite ego boost to feed off, content with pushing you until you snapped, or ignoring you to assert a feeling of power. 

You turned to face Annie, giggled as she leant back with a shimmy and her hands dragged up to ruffle her own hair. The heat of a body behind you made your pulse quicken, the feeling a man taller and wider than you, until you saw a flash of blond over your shoulder. Something cold bit through you, it wasn't that you wanted it to be Dylan- it was just, you kept expecting him- waiting for the punchline of his intense gaze earlier to be dropped on you. 

Although, for a moment there he’d really looked at you like- you shook your head and closed your eyes, felt large hands fit at your waist and you leant back into the hold, focused on moving to the music and the new body behind you. 

The driving fire in the pit of your stomach felt like a hunger, and you knew it was the lingering need to correct Dylan. To call out the way he had pinned you earlier with his words, spoke to you like he knew you, like he had any reason to be concerned with your satisfaction, like he knew what you wanted, needed, the arrogan fucker. 

He’d addressed you like you were some lost little girl, like you were some fool, like Dylan knew something you didn’t. 

You huffed in frustration at the memory of his smugness; of each moment over the past few months at the events leading up to the wedding itself. The way Dylan would go out of his way to single you out, making a calling comment that drew attention to you in a crowd. Only to then completely ignore you when you attempted to place nice for the sake of your betrothed friends. 

Your mind lingered on the way he’d trotted around beautiful dates to the engagement party and rehearsal dinner, as if they were some accessory, how he’d stare whenever you’d make the effort to speak to them as if affronted you felt you could interact with these women. 

Resentment banded across the line of your shoulders, chest, the intake of your breath rattled with frustration - resentment at yourself for the moment of weakness where you’d craved his approval, his touch when he’d crowded you close. 

You resented the way he made you want him when you couldn’t stand him, the way you felt no better than the other girls he so easily played. 

You squeezed your eyes tightly shut and shook your head, felt your hair stick slightly to the light sheen of sweat on your back from the last hour or so of dancing surrounded by warm bodies. 

You reached a hand back to wrap around the neck of the man who was dancing with you now, body swaying with his. His hands kept a respectful grip on your sides, and you indulged in the contact, the brush of his broad chest against you. 

The music swelled from one song to another, the thrumming beat loud in your ears and you tried to let yourself fall into it, to ignore the pacing of your mind over the one man you didn't want to think about. 

You tipped your head back and let it find the man's shoulder to rest against as you pressed that breath closer, only mildly disappointed when his hands stayed safely above your hips. You’d have let him push it a bit further if he had tried. 

With a rush of body heat, you felt Annie press closer to you suddenly and your eyes fluttered open, her hands took yours in her own and you locked your eyes with hers. She gave an approving little nod as her eyes flickered up to the man pressed to you, a grin on her lips, her silent way of confirming he was hot. 

You let out a bright laugh at your friend’s not so subtle approval, fondness warm for her and returned the wink she sent you as you watched her raise her arms over her head, backing away from you and resume her dancing. 

You closed your eyes once more, more determined than ever to push Dylan from your mind, with a handsome man pressed close, swaying his hips in time with yours. 

Fuck Dylan and his stupid boyish games, and his way of getting in your head and his face, and the way he looked down at you with the width of his shoulders. 

Fuck the way he called you sweetheart, the smell of him, the span of hands, his fingers, the warm honey brown of his eyes-  your groaned  and your brow fell into a light frown, the champagne must have gone to your head. Too much too fast or something. 

Sure… he was obviously handsome, in that way that couldn’t really be ignored, but you’d never thought about him like that, really, you hadn’t. 

(Okay maybe that one time but there was a lot of tequila involved and a mechanical bull and you were sure there wasn't one person in that bar who hadn't been thinking the same thing you had) 

Looks aside, all but completely unconsidered to you, he was just infuriating cocky Dylan, you really didn’t need him to become 'HOT infuriating cocky' Dylan. 

You blinked your eyes open, hoping to catch sight of the waitstaff with a tray of bubbles nearby, just one more glass to clear your head. A distraction. Or maybe something to share with this new stranger, get to know him better. 

Your gaze drew across the busy room, the moving bodies, the bride on top of the groom's shoulders, she laughed loud and bright into the night air the strung up fairy lights reflected off the details of her dress, before they finally settled on the inevitable; on Dylan. 

He was at the edge of the dancefloor, his tuxedo jacket open, the crisp white of his shirt fitted handsomely against his torso. His hands were in his pockets, shoulders relaxed and he was watching. He was watching you, eyes dark and resolute and unmoving, his face relaxed, sure, the set of his jaw certain. 

You stuttered your next breath, a shaky inhale through your nose as you felt the entire weight of his eyes on you, pinning you. Your heels felt bolted to the floor and your knees felt weak, the room fell to a hush around you and your eyes kept in the line of Dylan’s, even as bodies swayed and moved between you he remained, gaze constant. 

Maybe this was his punchline, the way you couldn’t look away from him, the way your heart kicked in a rhythm of “yes”, the way the hands on you felt too big, fingers too thick, grip too heavy, the body behind you all wrong.  

You breathed, and you wanted, and you couldn’t look away. 

Dylan seemed to finally acknowledge that you had met his stare. Who knows how long now he’d been watching you, seemingly without a care for what was happening around him. His lips drew into a small grin, his look knowing. Dylan's eyes gave a small flicker up to the body behind you and his brow frowned, tilting his head back in a small gesture and his lips parted with what you could only assume was a low, clipped laugh. 

“Oh please,” he mouthed, the word steeped with sarcasm even in the silence of it, just in the way you saw his mouth form it. His lips were twisted in distaste, utter disapproval. 

You pressed your lips together and felt the anger that had built in your chest ignite with a deep, drawing inhale, like a flicker of a match in a gasoline wet room your body ran hot - burning. Your fingers curled into fists and you rolled your eyes at him, you wouldn’t let him win, you just couldn’t. 

He didn't give in to your admittedly childish push back; he just shook his head ever so slightly and kept his gaze on you, looking down through the line of his gaze, eyes assured. He had height over you still somehow, even at this distance. 

His hand reached up and he plucked the smoke from behind his ear, pinched it between his thumb and pointer to place it between his lips. The smoke rested there as he pulled a lighter from his trouser pockets, and fidgeted it between his long fingers. He raised his brows at you a final time before he turned his gaze away. 

Dylan lingered a moment longer, allowed you to keep your eyes on him as he turned, and made his way through the crowds and out past the light of the Marquee, till he was just a shadow getting smaller with distance. 

You took a deep breath, paused, placed your hands over the ones on your waist and eased them away in a gentle touch, with a twist of your body you were free and walking out after Dylan.

It didn’t take too long to find him, a straight shot of where he’d exited from the large marquee. The night air was prickling and fresh against your skin and you shivered as you followed a path that led down to a garden on the lower section of the estate. 

The marquee was on the main lawn, overlooked the acreage of the land that sprawled out below it, a smaller garden tucked below the balcony led to by a stone staircase from the upper lawn. 

Most of it wasn't visible from the marquee or main lawn, even where it let out to a sandstone balcony of sorts. You only knew of its existence because the photographer had chosen it as a location for some of the bridal party photos earlier in the day. 

You’d gone on gut feeling he’d be there, the same feeling that told you when you had his gaze, so you were barely surprised when you found him leant against a half stone wall at the edge of the garden, head tilted back as he exhaled smoke into the air. 

He almost looked like a shadow, only illuminated by the bright light of the moon and the fairy lights wrapped through the occasion tree in the garden. He didn’t look at you, but you knew he’d heard you, the sound of your heels against the gravel, knew he’d noticed you from the way his chin turned just slightly towards you before he spoke.  

“You get what you want?” 

His voice washed over you, through you, fuel to the fire and you rolled your eyes, sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and crossed your arms in front of you, a feeble barrier to the way your heart was pounding out of your chest. 

“What do you think?” you asked, surprised at the way your voice carried out just above a whisper. The words had sounded different in your head, stronger, more biting and sarcastic. Off your lips, they had sounded seeking, a question, a surrender. 

Dylan chuckled, gazed at his feet as he shook his head. 

He lifted the cigarette up to his lips and drew in a long pull, dropped it away from his lips and held the smoke for a beat. He looked at you and smirked. 

Faint smoke bloomed from his nostrils as he exhaled shortly before he blew the rest from between his pursed lips as he watched you, and his finger tapped the cigarette to let the ash fall by his feet. 

“You’re out here with me, so no, I don’t think he was giving you anything close to what you want” Dylan said and licked his lips. 

Heat pulsed in your chest, through the centre of you, your arms dropped to your sides and a shiver rushed through you that you did your best to suppress. 

“You were the one who couldn’t seem to look away” you retorted, the words soft once more, lacking the heat of your intention. 

Dylan hummed and nodded, a simple shrug of his shoulder, as if surrendering to the accusation. 

Dylan took a short draw and exhale of the cigarette and then three steps closer to you, until you could see the slightest shadow of stubble that had begun to push through from his clean shave for the event. 

He dropped the smoke to the floor between you, stepped on it with the sole of his dress shoe as he moved closer still. His hand raised to take your cheek in his hand, the depth of his eyes on you. 

“Oh baby, why would I look away when you look so pretty pretending you don’t know what you need is right in front of you” Dylan’s voice was a low rumble and his breath smelt of cigarettes and champagne, the smallest hint of mint under it all. 

His thumb drew down over your cheek in a tender brush, till the pad of it came to rest to the left of the pout of your lips. 

“Watching you dance in that dress, remembering the way you looked when I told you I knew you wanted to beg me, it was hard not to watch” Dylan’s eyes were sinister, heavy and the intention in the depths of them made your breath quiver. 

You felt your chin tilt up just so, goosebumps bloomed up your neck from his simple touch, the way your chest pressed against the fitted fabric of your dress with each inhale. 

“You snobby, egotistical, entitled little brat... thinking you can just talk to me like that, like you know me, like you have some right to me! Toying with women for the ego boost, all these big words but when it comes down to it I doubt you can even m-” 

The fingers that had been resting lightly on your cheek dug in, thumb moved to the other side of your cheek and gripped just enough for your lips to purse, words cut off with a short inhale of surprise. 

He cut you off with a low whisper of your name - a warning? a question? A tease? you couldn't tell. 

He repeated it once more and you felt his exhale against your lips, his head bowed closer until your eyes closed without thought, heart hammering somewhere heavy in your throat. 

“Be nice” he whispered. 

Dylan let out a soft sound from the back of his throat, an exhale passed between you two and then he was closer still, and then Dylan was kissing you. 

The press of Dylan’s lips against yours was rough and consuming, a dry pressure of lips to yours, a hint of the taste of him before a rasp of stubble with the tilt of his head.  His thumb took your chin, slid up under your bottom lip to tug down just slightly, just enough to keep your lips parted, before his tongue wet and warm licked into your mouth. 

If you thought you’d been on fire before you didn’t know how to describe the way Dylan’s touch had consumed you. 

Not fire, not now, not something eating and destroying. It was like Dylan had let waves build inside of you, like your body was the weight of the tide, twisting deep ocean pull that dragged you under, softened the sound of the world to your ears. 

It was only a tease of the tongue before he drew back, lips brushed yours as he lingered. His arm wrapped tight around your waist and pulled you in firmly, bodies drew together until your breasts were pressed to his chest and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. 

“Be nice” he repeated, a mutter against your lips and let out a short exhale before he was kissing you deep and dirty, licking into your mouth in a way that made your head spin, your pulse kicking in your throat. 

You shivered and let him kiss the breath out of you; let his hands hold you up, let him press your hips together and make your mind wash blank.

Dylan. Dylan’s hands on your body. Dylan kissing you like he couldn’t breathe without your mouth. Dylan making you want to beg for more, like he’d so smugly bragged to you. 

You pulled back suddenly with the thought, the slick sound of your lips parting loud in the night and you were breathless, panting, as you spoke low and rushed.

“This doesn’t mean- you don’t, just because we, I still can’t stand you or your ego, you’re still a-” Dylan cut you off with a low huff, his hands gripped you tighter, pulled you closer and he kissed you just once, a comsuimg wet brush of lips. 

“What did I say baby? Be nice, for just a little bit, I know you can be. Don’t you want to be good for me, if I make it good for you? Let me give you what you deserve” He spoke low and husky and something within you sprung loose, like a wound up coil that slipped. Dylan was under your skin and you wanted him inside you too, you wanted him to drive his body into yours and make good on the long looks and promises, you wanted him to prove it. 

You wanted him, and you weren’t strong enough to stop yourself any longer. 

The waves that he’d filled you with were breaking over each other - the white wash buzzing through your veins as you pushed onto your toes and wrapped your arms around Dylan’s neck, pulling him into you. 

Your lips met again, feverish and hot, Dylan’s hand slid from your waist to the low of your back, fingers fisted the satin of your dress as he pressed you closer still, your hips formed to his. 

His other hand found the back of your neck, fingers pushed up into your hair and held your head in place and angled it for himself as he curled his body down over you to kiss you deeper, making up for the way he towered over you. 

He pressed closer still, moving into you and your back arched as you keened up into the warmth of Dylan’s body, on the high of your toes with your head tipped back to keep the kiss going. 

You wavered, almost stumbled when Dylan’s hand found your arse; skimming over it with an open palm before he gripped gently, an appreciative groan ripped from his throat. Your heart pulsed at the needing sound, and your belly hollowed with a shaking breath between parted lips before you kissed again, chasing the taste of him. 

Dylan’s other hand moved from the back of your neck to the front of it, the pad of his thumb found the hollow of your throat and strummed a single touch that made goosebumps rush down your arms, your nipples peaking. 

You pulled back from Dylan, drew in a shaking breath and watched the determined furrow of his brow before his face was tucked against the curve of your neck, lips kissing between gentle grazes of teeth, mapping the skin. 

You whimpered and your feet stumbled again, swayed with the weight of Dylan pressing into you, the way his hands pulled and his body dove into yours at the same time. He grunted into your skin and both his hands moved quickly to your hips, turned with you and between a kiss to your neck and his teeth on your earlobe your back was pressed to the stone wall he’d been leant against earlier.  

The support of the wall had you back on your toes, your hand found the back of Dylan’s head to pull him away from your neck. Breathless, and the skin of your neck tingling from his attention you leant up to him again, seeking his mouth. 

He paused before you could meet and licked his lips, one hand on your cheek. 

“Alright?” he asked, the hand on your hip squeezing as he crowded you against the wall, body hot and pressed completely to yours. 

You nodded, distracted, wanting his mouth and not thinking much past it, the wall had stopped the weakness of your knees, allowed Dylan to press closer still and that was all that mattered. You tilted your head back and parted your lips just so, leaned up silently asking for him to bridge the distance, to come back to you and keep kissing you. 

He dipped closer but not close enough and you bit back a whine that was climbing up your throat. 

“What?” You snapped at him instead, brow raised. 

“I want to hear you say it, not just a nod... all of this alright?” Dylan asked in a whisper and you ignored the sweet pinch in your chest. 

“I thought you promised to give me what I need?” You replied, flushed at the notion of telling Dylan you wanted him, this, showing him was one thing, but admitting was another. 

“Don’t do that, tell me” Dylan breathed, ignored your attempt at distraction, didn’t take the bait, the fight you wanted. 

“Dylan” you mumbled 

He smirked and his lips pressed to the right of your mouth, a soft kiss that he trailed across your cheek and to the hinge of your jaw, till his lips were against your ear. 

His hand found the dip of your waist, fingers drew till his thumb found the space between your breasts, his fingers resting against the skin just below the curve of it.  

“Come on, just tell me... tell me and then it's yours, baby, tell me you want this with me and I won’t stop unless you say. I’ll work you till you're finally satisfied. If you let me... want me… I need you on me until we can’t anymore; so just tell me.” Dylan breathed

You bit back another whine that fought at your lips and you nodded quickly, shivered when his teeth bit into the side of your neck and sucked the skin briefly before he let it go. 

“Dylan, please, I want you, I want you to touch me, make me feel good just- come on, kiss me” Your hands gripped at Dylan’s shoulders and pulled and he finally gave in. 

Dylan's hand fell to your hip, dragging you into him as your mouths met hotly again. A sigh of relief passed your lips and your fingers found their way into his hair and they gripped, rough when his tongue licked hotly over yours. 

His fingers gripped at your hip and then found your thigh, lifted it to fit around his waist, anchoring you to his body as he pressed in closer, until your lower back was flush with the wall behind you. You were trapped between the solid line of the wall and the firmness of Dylan. 

Your hand twisted in the front of his shirt as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, you shuddered into him and the ocean in your stomach rolled in steady crashing waves, over and over, coming into the shore. 

Dylan’s hand pushed up from between your breasts and found the strap of your dress, slipped his fingers underneath and wound it in his grip till the fabric was even tighter against your breasts. 

He pulled away breathless, pressed his forehead to yours and stared down at the thin strap he was holding, shook his head as his gaze drew to the curve of your cleavage. He twisted the strap tighter again, made your breast lift, push up just over the cup of the dress. 

“Fucking, driving me, crazy, these tiny straps” he gritted out, shook his head and a familiar look of frustration crossed his face, but it felt totally different now, the thundering look on his eyes when his hands were gripping you greedily. 

“All fuckin’ night just these tiny little straps” he cursed under his breath, shook his head as his fingers eased the strap out of his touch and let it lay back against your skin. 

He skimmed his fingers across the top of your chest, and his mouth was soon to follow the path of his fingers. He sucked hungry kisses from your shoulder to your chest, wet drags of lips and occasional slip of greedy tongue on your skin. 

Dylan all but nuzzled his cheek against your left breast as one hand found the strap again, slipped it off your shoulder and you felt it fall down the outside of your arm. His fingers brushed the bare skin before he made quick work of the other strap, both hands coming up to free your arms from the straps. 

“Couldn’t stop looking at you all day, all fucking day, you in this dress, the fucking devil I swear, should have had my hands on you all night, all day, you let me have you and I would never last without having my hands on you like this” His voice was strung out, wanting. 

His hand found your thigh once more, tugged you in tighter until the hardness pressing against his pants found the heat of you covered by the thin fabric of your panties. Even though the fabric, the promise of him had you clenching, electricity wound tight from behind your belly button and pulsed up through your chest. 

Your hips rocked to find the weight of him once more, a rush of friction that made you shiver, his fingers digging into your thigh until his nails stung you. You gasped and your head fell back just as Dylan’s fingers hooked into the fabric where it met between your breasts and tugged down with a rough grip, until the fitted fabric was underneath them, and the your breasts were exposed, your nipples pebbling harder in the cold night air. Dylan’s hand cupped you, thumb found your nipple and drew over it as his mouth found the other breast, kissing at the newly exposed skin “Pretty fucking girl, pretty fucking tits” He muttered hotly into the skin.   

Your shoulders quivered with the shake that zapped through the centre of your body, the way your core twisted with divine pleasure at the tortured sounding compliment. His lips tongue and teeth made work of your skin still he found your nipple and kissed the bud of it, sucked at it gently until you gasped and arched your back, a hand fell to his head to hold him there. 

He groaned in response, sucked and licked the flat of his tongue in a greedy taste of you, made the skin ache in his mouth until his teeth sunk in to soothe it, grazed down til his teeth found the bud of your nipple and bit, tugged in a way that made you swear, nails dug into the back of his head. 

“Dylan” you whimpered, unable to help the plea of his name, the way his mouth devouring your breasts made you roll your hips, the pulse of your clit heady and wanting in the depth of you, chasing pressure, touch. 

Your cunt pressed hot against the shape of his full cock in his pants, and the contact was an immediate craving you ached to satiate, you needed, needed. His hand dropped from your breast, mouth moved to the other, not yet wet from his saliva, not bearing the marks of his teeth. 

His now free hand quickly found the swell of your ass, took a handful and wound your waist down onto him, giving you the rush of friction that made your mouth drop open in a punched out gasp. 

“Yes” the word was barely spoken, mouthed as you dropped your head forward, cheek pressed to of Dylan’s hair. 

“Yes, so good, you’re so good” 

Dylan muttered, punctuated the words with small pressing thrusts of his hips into yours, little rolls of his hips that let you feel the shape of him, the head of his cock where it was thicker, the length of it all. 

You ached, your stomach twisted sharply with need and your cunt throbbed desperately in your panties, a small gush of wetness dampening them now, with the way Dylan was roughly riding himself against you. 

“God, god” Dylan praised hotly under his breath between kissing at the skin between your breasts and his hand pulled you tighter to him, gripped your ass, keeping your body anchored to his, the pressing of your hips a rhythmic crash, the ache between you thick and growing. 

You whined when his fingers found your breast once more, pinched at your nipple as his mouth took yours, wet and hot, tongue searching. you hooked your leg tighter around your hip as he continued to drive your body into the wall, the fabric of your dress catching on the stones behind you. 

You slipped a hand down toward the heat of your bodies, where you were pressed close and tried to blindly find the button of Dylan’s slacks, interrupted by his belt, you wanted more, you needed skin, touch, you needed him to give you more. 

“More” You whispered into his mouth between dizzying kisses, hand fumbled at his waistband, drunk in your hunger for him. 

“Dyl” You muttered out of frustration, found the shape of him hot and thick over the fabric of his trousers, your palm cradled him, fingers massaging, grasping.

Your other hand slipped down and found his belt, tugged at the thick leather and tried to feed it through the loop only for your fingers to catch and stumble over it. Dylan’s hand found yours, laced your fingers with his and drew it up tp place your hand on his chest. 

“Like this” he muttered and bit his way down past your chin to your throat, kissing and sucking wetly at your skin. His hands gripped tight to your lower back and ass, encouraged the roll of your hips into him once more, shifted you to fit his thigh between your legs. 

He tugged your body down with the next drag of your hips and you gasped wetly, at the pressure of his muscular thigh against your aching center. You hiccuped a breath at the heat that pulsed through you, stars began to shiver behind your eyelids. 

“There we go” He breathed, his voice thick with satisfaction as you half opened your eyes, a dazed blink that caught his gaze on you, dark and heavy and hot. You whined, barred your hips down over and over in small rocks that had the dampness of your panties dragging against the slightly rough fabric of his suit pant leg. 

“That’s it baby” He encouraged and you shivered, his hand gripped your ass before letting his palm flatten, pulled you in and down at the same time he pushed his thigh up. The pressure made your hands fist in the front of his dress shirt, pull at the neatly pressed white material and bunched it thickly until it untucked from his pants all together. 

He pulled your whining mouth back to his own, licked into it in a claiming kiss, kissing you soundly until you had to pull away for a hiccuped breath as you wove your hips in a hungry figure eight. 

The night air was heavy around you, hot and holding you up, you felt draped across it breathless and needing. 

On the next roll of hips, you drew yourself closer, shifted and hooked your leg higher over Dylan’s waist until the heat of your cunt pressed itself to the heft of his bulge once more. 

“No, like this” You whispered, arched your back to press your cunt harder to him, small rocking thrusts of your hips that had you aching for him, had you empty and needing

Dylan groaned low and throaty and with a breath his hand was pressed between you two, cupping your cunt, thumb drawing over the fabric of your panties in a soft fidget like he couldn’t help himself.

“Fuck, sweetheart you wanna give me this so bad, don’t you? You’d let me fuck you right here against this wall, get you on my cock and chase away the ache huh? You’d let me make a mess of you right here baby I know you would let me- god” 

His words choked off with desire and he kissed you with a firm press of lips before he softened, sucked gently at your bottom lip as he kissed you, slowly tonguing you.

You flushed hot at the words, breath rasping as your thighs squeezed, you would- you wanted. 

He pulled away at the same time his thumb began to rub teasingly light circles over the centre of you. 

“Oh baby, you just wanna be good for me and take my cock, don’t you? Want us both to feel good, can feel you’re already wet for me, god” Dylan sounded torn as his thumb found the edge of your panties, eased into the heat of it, found the slickness of you in a feather-light touch. 

You nodded shakily, pushed your hips into his touches, impatient. 

“Can’t fuck you here though baby” he whispered, voice sweet like a secret in the night air, words kind and low, curling around you. 

“I can’t, not against this wall, gotta do you on a bed sweetheart like you deserve” 

Frustration twisted sharp it the center of you, at the notion of the loss of his touch, of him playing games again.

“Don’t give me that bull- oh” your words fluttered at the feeling of the pad of his thumb gently caressing the tender skin of where your thigh met the hottest part of you. 

“That bullshit, Dylan, I’m not some little princess, I know what I want Dylan I want you, I want you to fuck me, I want you cock inside me, out here against this wall, I don’t care, I don’t need a bed” you pressed closer to him with the words, kissed your way across his jaw to his hot mouth, sucked at his bottom lip until his mouth parted and he kissed back, his hands gripped you tighter. 

Yes yes yes you thought, finally, he’d give you what you wanted. 

Just as you went to adjust your hips to help his thumb find you properly, touch you how you wanted, Dylan pulled back from the kiss and his thumb pulled away to lay over your panties once more. 

He shook his head tightly in reply, caught your jaw in his fingers and held you still, looked at you with dark eyes, as if considering you, fighting himself on something, weighing out the option.  

“Dylan” you whispered, asked, pressed yourself to his body, bare breasts warm against the rough brush of his dress shirt. He shook his head and your lips parted to argue with him once more, scared he’d deny this again, deny what you both needed, but he was quick to delve back in to kiss you hotly. He took your mouth for himself his fingers resumed his teasing over the fabric covering your pussy from him. 

“No I can’t, god baby-” he cut himself off with a huff, his forehead pressed to yours, his hot breath against your lips, pressed closer to you in a way that made your legs part further, the centre of you aching. 

“I won’t be able to hold back when I’m inside you sweetheart, I won’t trust myself be careful with you- Need somewhere soft and warm to pin you down and ruin you don’t I? Need something I can press you into, not gonna hurt you. Not unless you want it from me” he rambled and his cupped fingers tapped a soft smack over your pussy, lingered before he smacked it once more before his thumb smoothed down, soothing. 

Your cunt clenched at the touch, his words and you tightened around the emptiness inside you, wetness blooming further into the soft white fabric Dylan was toying with. 

“God fine. But Dylan, please- then, I want” you gasp, tears pinch your eyes and you needed it, you ached with it you can't pull yourself away, not now not when he’s got his fingers so close to taking you, not when you’ve got the promise of him under you. 

He can’t be asking you to stop now, he can’t be saying he can’t do this here not when he’s driven his body into yours like this, shipwrecked you in his hands, halfway taken apart by him. 

Your hips chase up into his touch, greedy and you nod almost desperately when he finally presses his fingers just hard enough to make electricity throb from your clit, your pussy swollen with its desire, blooming under his touch. 

“Yes, yes I want that” you mumbled, a shaky breath as his fingers gentle circled, the friction hot and barely satiating but enough to help the ache of your whole body. 

“Oh baby” he whispered, and a hand found your winding hips, gripped them still as his fingers found the edge of your panties and pulled the fabric down till his, fingertips finally found the wet heat of your pussy. 

You whimpered, arms wrapped around his neck and a hand gripped to the back of his neck, nails biting. “Dylan” 

“Wet, so pretty and wet” Dylan said under his breath, stared down where his hand was taking you, watched his own finger as he parted the folds of you, just enough to make you feel emptier somehow, aching. 

“You need this, don’t you? Need me to make it better, feel you- Can’t just let me try and treat you right can you? Pushing this pussy against me, begging me to fit this cock into you, like it's not all I can think about- can’t let me do this right, fuck” Dylan gruffed out and you shook your head. 

You bit your bottom lip sharply, blood rushed your ears and you wanted to smack the side of his handsome head, his fingers were so close to where you wanted them, you just needed to be full of him. 

“Never made it easy for you, m’not gonna start now” You breathed, reached down and found Dylan’s wrist, fingers wrapped around it as if you could urge him closer, but Dylan resisted your touch easily, kept his fingers determined in the barely-there strokes over you.  

“You fucking impossible woman” Dylan’s voice was a whisper and he shook his head before one of his fingers pushed inside you to his knuckle. He let you adjust with one breath before he drew back and pushed back inside with a second finger tucked beside it, till they sat at the hilt in your pulsing wetness. 

“Fuck” you bit off in a whimper, “oh my god fuck Dylan” you mumbled, your cunt tightned around him, breath trembled through your body as pleasure hollowed your stomach. 

“Beautiful, impossible woman” he uttered, voice broken and a little depraved like pushing inside of you had pulled him open as well. 

He let out a soft sound, somewhere in his throat and his fingers tucked up in a loose curl, the pads of his fingers gently stroked inside where they met the heat of your walls. 

“Oh” You whimpered, voicy pitching and your head fell back, suddenly too heavy with pleasure to hold up again longer and hit the wall behind you with a thunk, your ears washed with the sound of your heartbeat and your cunt clenched, arms tightening around Dylan’s neck. 

A soft mewl passed your lips and your head pressed back against the stones as your body tried to squirm out of the pleasure that was aching through you, from your knees to your stomach to the arches of your feet. You felt your cheeks flushed hot, your body on fire as you stumbled over your breaths. 

“There we go” Dylan breathed, his breath against your ear as his cheek pressed to yours, hand moved to your neck, up to the base of your skull, found it’s way between your head and the wall and cradled it in his hold. 

“Take it so well, don’t you” His voice was low, hot and you were melting in his arms. His two fingers crooked steadily in their position inside you, pressed deep and firm and hot, over and over again pulsing pleasure heavy and thick through your veins like honey. 

“More ” You mumbled and rocked your hips down, taking, and tightened your arm around Dylan’s neck as your body weakened under his touch, hazily chasing the pleasure. 

“More” you moaned again, arm tugged at Dylans neck, thigh squeezed at his side when he didn’t change the steady pace of his fingers.  

“Be. nice.” Dylan answered. 

“Trouble being good even when I’ve got two fingers in your cunt hm? Know you can be good sweetheart, don’t you wanna be good for me? I can give you what you need if you’re a good girl” he pulled back to look at you as he spoke, your eyes half lidded as you struggled to watch him, thick pleasure drawing you down, a heavy weight pitching you on the width of Dylan’s fingers, anchored to where he touched you. 

“Oh you do wanna be a good girl, don’t you, felt the way you got so nice and tight around my fingers when I said that hmm, you like that don’t you sweetheart” he whispered and your body trembled, nipples hardened tight and you tipped your head further back, into the weight of Dylan’s palm, the grip of his long fingers in your hair. 

He smirked before his mouth found your tits again, lips teeth and tongue praised the skin, wet kisses and pulling bites, a small bruise that bloomed half over your nipple before he finally released you from the bite of his teeth. 

You whined, fingers scrambled as they buried into Dylan’s hair, gripped sharply and twisted, held him to your chest. Your thigh trembled as you fought to hitch it higher over Dylan’s hip, opening yourself to him further, giving him all of you, whatever he wanted. 

Dylan hummed against your tits, small greedy kisses as his fingers drew out briefly only to press back in, now three fingers wide, drew out again as he started a steady rhythm fucking you on his hand. 

Your breath punched out in a broken whine, and your head dropped back like a puppet who’s strings had been cut, the full weight of your head now cradled in Dylan’s hand. He released your tits from his lips with a slick sound, pressed your bodies tightly together and gazed at you as his fingers fucked you. 

“I know, I know” Dylan’s voice soothed and lips were soon on yours, his grip tilted your head up so he could meet your mouth and you kissed him with the need his fingers were fucking into you. 

Starlight kissed and burned at your pulse points, your wrists, arms, neck, the tender skin where your thigh met the centre of you, hot licks of joy eating you as he drove his fingers into you over and over and over. 

Dylan was knuckle deep and the thrusting of his fingers paused, went back the filthy curl of fingers, three wide in the deepest part of you he could reach. Your breath quivered, hands slipped from his hair, around his neck and down his shoulders, pulling at him, gripping whatever you could take, touching as you let your body dissolve into heat and pure pleasure, a livewire tangled in his man. 

Dylan swayed forward suddenly as a distant murmur of voices and laughter from above you washed out into the night air. He pressed as close as possible, eyes sharp and body still as he listened, the gentle fucks of his fingers slower now, but the only part of his attention you still held. His eyes stayed stuck on the small lip of balcony you could see to the left of you, you were almost under it, mostly out of sight from where it looked out but not entirely. 

You watched his jaw jump thickly and you leant in to kiss the flexing muscle, nuzzle at his flushed red cheeks. With his face turned the light of the moon better illuminated his swollen lips, the blotching heat of his face, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, he looked ruined, ruining you. 

You whimpered and kissed at his jaw again, hands pulled at him at a silent request to come back to you. 

“Shh” Dylan cooed and his hand guided your head into the curve of his neck, fingers somehow found themselves even deeper inside you, the steady curls of his fingers deep and persistent in a way that made your legs shake as you let him tuck you into his frame. 

One of your hands slipped to the front of his shirt, greedily tugged at his bow tie and top button until you could release them and found the warm skin with your mouth, nuzzled at it as Dylan fucked you deep and achingly slow on his fingertips. 

“Shh, shh” He cooed again as a loud laugh from above rung out, and he shifted the pair of you closer to the wall and oh god. Your legs trembled as you had to fight to stay on your feet, the hand around Dylan’s neck gripped to try hold you up, a soft cry passed you lips, a half sounding sob as you nodded desperately into the heat of his throat. 

“There, there there there” You rambled breathlessly as the hand at Dylan’s chest fell to the hand that was filling you, wrapped a death grip around his wrist. The shift of your bodies had sent Dylan’s fingers just the right amount to the left to be pressed to the pad of pleasure deep inside you, where you ached most to feel full. 

Dylan drew back just enough to press your forehead to yours, panting chests pressed together and he let out a soft sound and kissed at your lips in hungry soft pecks, drags of lips wet and warm. “There baby? Right where you need it huh?” Dylan whispered, and you could barely nod before his fingers began to curl in quick, sure fucks, deep lingering presses of fingertips to that one spot that set your whole body alight. Your chest was caving in with every deep breath while your stomach bloomed with crashing waves of pleasure, so heavy and so good you could feel it even behind your eyelids, pleasure like a light pushing up out of you 

“Dylan, yes. Please I-” Your breath hiccupped and you felt you cunt tighten around him, a hungry pull of your body somehow still demanding more. 

“Shhh baby gotta be quiet or they’ll hear us” Dylan tucked your face back into his neck as his fingers soaked in the heat of you, the wet sucking sound of your tightness around him quiet between your bodies. 

You nodded desperately, willing to comply as so long as he never stopped that perfect curl og his fingers. Your body no longer felt like your own, a hot point wound tight, an ocean during a storm, something that you were hopeless to hold yourself up against. 

Your legs trembled with the effort to keep yourself standing and the thought of anything but the fit of dylan’s fingers inside you whited out with every thick pulse of pleasure the curl of his digits pushed through you. 

The voices must have faded out (something your pleasure drenched mind couldn’t even think to be aware of) signaling that you were alone once more because between breaths Dylan pulled you back from his neck, kissed you hungrily before he began to speak low and desperate between your mouths. 

“Good fucking girl, you can be so good can’t you, when you’re getting what you need hm?” his voice was rasping, breathless and his hand gripped tighter in your hair, a fist that made your scalp burn. 

“So good drenching my fingers, wetting my palm with this perfect little cunt” his words made you whine, your fingers dug into the hold you had on his wrist, whole body trembling with it now. 

“Imagine how pretty it will be when its my cock huh? How gorgeous you’ll be taking it,  all wet and hot around me, fuck baby, I know how bad you need that, I need it too, beautiful I need to feel you too- fuck” Dylan rambled, voice low and hugry and you nodded, nodded and fought to try keep your eyes open and watching him as he reduced you to the pleasure hot and throbbing from between your legs. 

“Getting close aren’t you? I can feel it, not gonna stop till I feel you come for me, Want it, want you to come on my fingers, give me that baby can’t you? Show me how good it feels” Dylan encouraged and you nodded feverishly, tilted your head in a blind mission for his mouth, which he was quick to meet you in. 

“Close- close but I” Your breath hitched and tears threatened the edges of your eyes, the pleasure wa so hot and consuming and your orgasm was right there, you could feel it just under each breath but something kept you dangling just above it. 

“Tell me what you need, tell me how I give you this sweetheart, fuck you’re so- wet.” His voice broke over the last word, rasping between messy kisses. 

“Come on baby tell me” He whispered, slowed his fingers to long, deep winding rubs, forced your eyes open with the ebbing of your pleasure. 

“Tell me” he grunted out again, voice a command, not a question. 

“More- I need, I don’t know, I” your breath caught as your mind tried to find what your body wanted, what it needed in the sea of pleasure consuming you to finally pull you under, rolll and toss your body with its peak. 

“Closer- harder, just, more, I don’t know” You asked, and he nodded, pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and hummed. 

“Please” you asked, a small roll of your hips down, chasing. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl telling me, I’ve got you” Dylan breathed and began the curl of his fingers again, but now slow and steady, a slight rock to his fingers as he thrust them just so with each curl. 

“Touch your clit for me baby, do yourself how you like it best, be good and touch, want you to show me” Your fingers found your wetness as Dylan spoke, eager to comply, eager to come. 

Your pointer and middle finger found the most sensitive part of you, slipped in the wetness of your pussy to work small tight coils against the red cherry of your clit. Your eyes fell shut with the pleasure that rushed you, toes curled with it and your breath hitched as you drew in fast shaking breaths. 

“There we go, there we go” Dylan praised, his lips kissed hungrily at your cheeks, jaw, neck, down to your chest. 

“So beautiful, keep going, you’re doing so well, making yourself feel so good and I can feel it, feel you on my fingers, driving me crazy. Fuck” Dylan’s voice was a haze around you, your nipples hardened and you clenched tighter around Dylan. 

Your body ached, trembled ad you tried to stay upright, you felt lost in the pleasure, even with the wall pressed into your back, the way Dylan’s chest was against yours, you wanted- you needed him closer still, you wanted to feel him all over you, you ached to be under him, wanted to feel him hold you down as he made your body fall apart. 

“Dylan” you didn’t know what you were asking, legs shook as you tried to get closer to him, your leg tightened around Dylan’s hip. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, don’t worry, keep going baby” He whispered, his hand moved from the back of your head, slid down and around to the front of your neck, where he could no doubt feel the hummingbird flutter of your pulse on the side of your throat in the cup of his palm. 

His fingers lay gently against the side of your neck, goosebumps prickling down your arms, your heart hammered so hard it felt like a drum beat shattering through you with each pulse. His hand spread until his thumb found the hollow of your throat, a light touch that he dragged up before he curled his thumb across to tuck under the line of your jaw. 

Your eyes fell shut and you tilted your head back, offered more of your neck to Dylan as your mind fogged with want, a soft moan passed your lips, a shiver rocked you in the simple way he was holding you, the way you felt the curve of his hand with each breath you pulled in. 

“Oh baby” Dylan breathed and smiled, like you’d confessed something he’d been waiting to hear. 

“Gotta make me take it from you huh? Can’t just give it to me I gotta earn it from you huh?” He breathed and you were weak to do anything but listen, your fingers working your clit greedily, messy wet slips of your fingers that had you tightening around Dylan. 

“You pinch my wrist if its too much hm? If you wanna stop ok?” Dylan asked and you nodded, willing to take what Dylan wanted to give you, desperate to cum. 

“Hey, look at me” he spoke and you sighed, focused n chasing your orgasm, feeling it close in the way your pussy was gripping Dylan’s fingers, the way the pleasure was shimmering hotter behind your bellybutton, so close just out of your grip. 

His fingers paused suddenly and you wanted to cry, eyes pulled open in a desperate blink and you look at him hazily, brow crumpled in a frown at the loss of pleasure. 

“I know, I know, listen okay and then I promise I wont stop, I’ll keep going, make you soak my fingers and come so hard you only know my name okay?” 

You nodded, desperately and Dylan repeated his earlier instructions. “Pinch my wrist if you want to stop okay?” he asked and you shivered at the promise of it, of what was to come. 

You nodded, understanding now what he was asking, hand on your throat, eyes black with desire as he looked at you. 

“Yes, ok, pinch your wrist, I’m being good I’m listening, now Dylan, please” You begged, felt your voice waver with your desperation. 

“Please I want to come” You whispered, face flushed and lashes heavy as you gazed at Dylan, the hand not working your clit came up to Dylan’s cheek, leant into him and kissed him soft and slow, breathing into his mouth between wet kisses, tongue tasting his. 

“Please” you muttered again and Dylan nodded, kissing you so deeply your head tilted back with the depth of it. You cried out against his lips when his fingers finally went back to fucking you, quick deep thrusts of his three fingers, the wet sound of your body as his skin met yours over and over. 

“Yes, yes its so good, so good” You gasped out, began to tremble as your increased the pace of your own fingers, tight circles over your swollen clit, so wet your dripped from your own fingers. 

Dylan hummed and took your mouth in a hot kiss as his hand gently squeezed around your throat as you drew in your next breath, the fingers on either side of your throat pressed in. 

Your cunt pulsed at the feeling, he wasn’t imiting your breath but making each inhale ache in the best way. 

“Oh my god” Dylan whispered into your mouth and his fingers pressed knuckle deep, once more curved to find that perfect spot inside of you, relentlessly began drilling it, over and over in quick curls of his strong fingers. 

You whined into Dylan’s mouth, your leg that was wrapped around his waist kicked out slightly before tensing beck to his body and the muscles in your calf jumped as your toes curcles. Your pulse thurmmed so loud in your head the sound of anything else was distant, between a thick wall of the pleasue consuming you. 

His hand tightened further on your neck, a deeper press of his fingers and the lightest pressure of the flesh between his pointer finger and thumb against your throat. His fingers inside you were unforgiving as they curled hard into you over and over, slamming of his fingertips into the spor that sent stars of fire up shooting through your body. Your cheesk felt so hot like your dosy could catch on fire. 

“Yes, there, there” You whined

You felt your body squeeze around Dylan’s fingers, a sharp, loud half sobbed crossed your lips, so deep it made your chest stutter with it and his hand squeezed your throat again, a firm hold before his lips pressed to your ear. 

“Please, please Dylan, Please, please” you gasped out, babbling your begging, unabel to help it. “I know, I know, but i’ve got you, I’ve got you, give me it sweetheart, wet my hand and take away your ache, my good girl” he muttered and your fingers pressed down on your clit as his fingers punched in and your breath caught in the cradle of his hand and you slipped back into the rocketing bliss of your orgasm. 

Your thighs pushed in toward themsleves as your dropped your head back, mouth open with a silent scream, pleasure built up and and up and up and pushed tears to your lashses before it let you fall, a rush as the storm shook you apart, your whole body trembled as Dylan’s fingers worked you through the waves of pleasure. 

His voice was sweet and honey warm by your ear as he held you through it “Beautiful girl, my good girl, feel so good, so good for me baby” whispered to you in variations over and over. 

It felt like hours later when the rapture of pleasure slowly began to ebb and you could catch hiccuping breaths without being rockde over another wave of your orgasm. Your hand slipped weakly down to find Dylan’s and pushed gently at his wrist as your thighs pushed in toward each other once more. 

“Too much, too much” you whimpered, felt Dylan’s fingers slow to a stop, let them linger inside you a few moments longer as his mouth found your throat, where his hand had been moments earlier. He kissed softly at the skin, down toward your breasts that he covered in kisses. He slipped his fingers from you as he kissed back up your throat and found your lips.  

He kissed you, just soft sucking lips as his hand rest over your tired pussy, thumb softly stroked the skin. 

Your body trembled in his arms as you reached for him, felt drunk, limbs heavy as your hands found his belt. You kissed him like that for a few moments, sweet and slow until your fingers co operated and you could ease the leather through the lip and pin. 

The soft clink of the belt unfastening made you shiver and you thumbed open the button and zip, the heavy weight of dylan through his boxers pressing thick and hot through the fabric. You could see the wetness where his hard cock had been straining against his boxers as you pulled away to look at him. 

“You don’t-” You shook your head quickly as his protest, leant your head against his shoulder and looked down as you eased him from his boxers. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, the width of his hard cock, the size of him in your palm, the darkness of the thick head. He was perfect. 

You swallowed a whine and sucked your bottom lip into your mouth as you reached for his hand that was still pressed to you, took him by the wrist and curled his own hand around the base of his cock, fingers tangled together as your dragged his fist up over him in a slow stroke. 

The wetness of your pussy that had soaked his hand now slicked his cock and you pushed his hand away now tha he was nice and wet like you wanted and you too him into your hand. 

“Fuck. Oh god you can’t just. Sweetheart-” His voice shook and his hand came to your waist, gripping you the other gently caressing your chest in a feather light touch. 

“I- this won’t take long, baby your pussy has me so hard, the way you took my fingers, so fucking tight when you came, almost pushed them out, can’t imagine you around my cock- going to make a fucking mess on it-” 

Dylan groaned and you nodded, began to kiss and suck at his throat, nuzzles of your nose against warm skin as your hand worked him him in tight long twists, felt each throb of him against your skin. 

You’d have to have him in your mouth too tonight you thought longingly, sucked at your lip as you watch his cock head wet with precum. 

“You’re so big” you whispered, too tired to filter the thoughts in your orgasm drunk mind. Your hand joined the other his cock, thumb gently stroking the thick head of him, over the top once and then at the underside in slow circles as your other hand continued worked his length. 

“I’ll be so tight around it- god I can’t wait to feel you, properly- feel you take it, feel all of this hard and thick inside me, Dyl” You sighed

His hand cupped your breast thumb brushed your nipple and gasped as he came, head tilted back as he fucked his hips up into your fist, hot and wet spilling over your fingers, the head of his cock pulsing and thick as it throbbed in your touch. 

You couldn’t help yourself then really, the sight of his cock messy and all for you- you sunk to your knees and kissed at the head head of his cock, wet open mouthed and tasting his cum. You dragged your parted lips over him, kissed the hot flesh lazily, content with tasting him, feeling him like this. 

“Fuck” Dylans voice punched out and his hand cupped the side of your face, body curled over as he watched with blown wide eyes, gaze reverent as he watched you. You licked him off your fingers between cleaning him off with the wet of your tongue, eyes closed as you enjoyed the taste of him.  

You tilted your head back to look at him, placed the head of his cock on your parted lips and smirked, tongue dragged out to lick a flat wet stripe that sent his full body into a shudder. 

“Fuck, okay, okay” he eased you off his cock and quickly tucked himself back into his pants, pulled you up into his arms, wrapped them around you waist and bundled you to his chest, found your mouth and kissed you, open mouthed and slow. 

His hand pulled beautifully a folded, expensive looking piece of fabric from his front pocket, gently wiped between your open legs, your thighs before he wiped his own fingers, folded the fabric into a neat square and tucked it into an internal hidden pocked in his suit jacket. His hands fastened his pants and redid the belt quickly. 

You shivered as you watched him, felt his hands eased your straps back up over your shoulders, gently touching over your chest to make sure you were covered tucked back, pulled your dress away to tug your panties back into proper place before he let skirt of your dress fall down around your legs once more. 

Your heart squeezed in the silence and before you could stutter out a manifestation of the worry that had started to cloud your mind, Dylan was pulling off his suit jacket and helping you into it. 

“You’re shivering” he whispered, and his hands pressed to the low of your back, pressed your bodies close. 

“Mmm” you agreed, not willing to confess the trembling was more so from him than the night air around you. 

“I can feel you thinking” he whispered and his lips found your cheek, a soft kiss before he let his cheek brush yours. 

“Don’t need to think, baby, not when it feels like this, okay? Let me give you what I promised okay? If you’ll let me” Dylan asked, his hand skimmed slowly up the length of your spine. 

“Let yourself have this, tonight yeah? Let us” Dylan continued. 

You nodded, not that you needed much convincnig, the promise the orgasm that still had your body feeling like it was held up in the air, had the muscles in the low of your stomach aching, far too good to walk away from. You needed and Dylan wanted and god the thought of the loss of his touch right now made you ache. 

It was one night, would just be one night, only for the two of you to know. Thats all it ever needed to be. 

You smiled and tugged Dylan’s jacket around you. 

“Take me home O’brien, while you’re lucky enough to have the chance to” you retorted, and turned out of Dylan’s arms, began to walk away, as dignified as one could with wet panties and trembling legs, trace amounts of risidual cum still on your fingers. 

His hand caught yours before you could go far, stopped you in your tracks and his other hand found the curve of your ass, voice a whisper by your ear. “Mm back to normal then sweetheart I see, going to have to fuck you into my mattress till you’re nice again huh? Make that pussy come over and over till I get to hear those sweet pleases and moans, till I get you doing everything I ask and you’re begging just for me-” You reached back and slapped hand over his mouth, the blush on your cheeks a furious rose tint. 

You felt his laugh and you rolled your eyes, bit sharp into your own lips and swallowed your biting remark. You pulled your hand away from his lips and kept walking, let Dylan ease his hand into your own, let the other hand slip up under the back of his tuxedo jacket that you wore, let him trace the low of your back with his thumb. 

“Not going to make it easy” you retorted, after a moment, actually unable to help yourself and you very much ignored the way you’d fallen apart so easily for him just moments earlier. 

“Oh I know, good girl” he said, voice smug. 

You nudged him with the sharp of your elbow into his side, fought to ignore the red of your cheeks and the throb between your legs.

#dylan o'brien #Dylan o'brein imagine #dylan o'brien fanfiction #Dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brien prompts #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien x you #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #my writing #my work

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; stiles lets it slip that he hasn't had his first kiss yet and, as his friend, you're more than happy to remedy that.

warnings; no use of y/n, fluff, established friendship, some pretty intense kissing, one instance of reader being referred to as a girl

word count; +3.5k

a/n; no smut here, but i am currently planning a couple nsfw pieces to work on between bouts of writing my ongoing (long suffering) stiles fic.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! it would actually mean the world to me

“-And it was just.. So wet. Way, way too much spit, y’know? And there was entirely too much tongue on his part considering the fact that his hands, like, never even left his pockets-”

You’re not entirely sure how, nor at what point, the conversation devolved into a mostly one-sided and incredibly detailed analysis of Mark Hagan’s kissing technique, or lack thereof, but by the time your eyes fall to the boy sitting in the driver’s seat, you realize that you’ve been rambling for at least a full minute in the patchy darkness of the parked car.

“-And I’m not saying I wanted to be groped or anything but, I mean, it’s a little awkward when a guy just-”

You falter suddenly, when you notice the awkward slump in Stiles’ posture, and your words taper out without warning. He has one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped tightly on the back of the seat where he’d turned to face you when he first asked how your date had gone the night before. And- God. That had been minutes ago, now.

“Sorry,” You apologize immediately with a grimace, “Was that, like, way too much information? Sorry.”

“No, I, uh,” He releases the steering wheel and shakes out his hand as if only just realizing how tight his grip had truly been. Your eyes are embarrassingly distracted by the long line of his fingers as he continues, “I guess I just didn’t realize how many things you could do wrong, y’know? I assumed it’d be more straight forward than that. You lean in, press your lips together, kiss, done. Right?”

You laugh softly at his rushed response, “I mean, I guess. I’d like to think there’s a little more skill that goes into it than that.”

“And, uh, Mark..” Stiles has been seemingly overwhelmed with reasons to dislike the other boy since you’d announced your upcoming date the week before, and he nearly spits the name with disdain when he says it now. “No skill, huh? Not quite, uh.. Not up to your standards?” He’s fiddling with the straw from his long-finished milkshake as he speaks, eyes downcast and determinedly focussed on his fingers, “Considering the overabundance of tongue, the lack of groping, and the, uh.. All-around wetness-?”

Another small huff of laugher escapes you as you drop your own empty cup into the greasy paper bag the diner had stuffed your to-go order into a half hour before, your socked feet returning to the Jeep’s dashboard only a moment later.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You fight back a cringe at the mere memory of the drool that coated Mark’s chin when you’d finally decided you’d had enough and pulled away.

“What about you?”

His question catches you off guard and your brows furrow as you meet his gaze, “What about me?”

He twists and folds the straw of his drink with more vigor, nose crinkling before he elaborates, “What would you say your, uh.. Your skill level.. is?”

You pitch forward to grab one of the few remaining curly fries from the container perched by your feet on the dash, falling back into your seat and munching slowly as you genuinely ponder the question.

“I think I’m probably alright,” You shrug after a moment, “I mean, it’s hard to say, right? But I’ve never had any complaints. And considering Lydia is, like, the queen of complaining-”

You’re caught off guard by the entirely inhuman squawk of disbelief and surprise that escapes him. He’s scrambling in his seat with no real purpose before he slowly comes back to a standstill, now sitting just a few inches closer to the passenger side than he was before.

“Lydia? You.. You and Lydia have-?”

You shrug again as you wipe your greasy fingertips on the leg of your jeans, “Yeah, like, twice. Maybe three times?”

“Three-?”

“What about you?” You interrupt.

You tip your head against the backrest to look at him in the dim light of the parking lot as you await his response. The Jeep is barely getting hit with the residual light from the windows of the diner, but the bright neon sign on the roof of the building casts a pretty red hue over Stiles’ face. His mole-dotted skin is flushed with it, the only bits safe from the red-tinted glow are the shadows beneath his brows and the tiny divot in the tip of his nose that extends up from his cupid’s bow. You want to trace the darkness on his skin with the tip of your finger — with your lips.

You find yourself getting lost in just how gorgeous he is, not for the first time.

“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly.

“Skill level,” You elaborate with a grin, lifting one foot from the dash to poke your toes into his knee, “What about you? Are the girls positively swooning? Melting under your touch? ‘Oh, Stiles. You’re the best kisser on this side of the Rockies-’”

Your teasing is silenced when his hand comes out to cover your mouth, long fingers trapping the words beneath your lips. Your knee is squished awkwardly between you, but he’s so warm you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your own, and the scent of his body wash fills your nose now rather than the lingering smell of grease from your shared dinner. You can hardly focus on his words as the smell of teakwood and pine invades your senses.

“No one in their right mind would ever say something like that after being kissed,” He tells you, face pinched in a cringe, “Like, not even something remotely along those lines. Not even in those weird old-timey romance movies you make me w-”

You grab ahold of his fingers to pull his palm from your lips with a small giggle, “Oh, c’mon, the suspense is killing me! Are you a good kisser or not?” Your mind is reeling a bit as you think about it. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Stiles, to feel his lips on your own, his hands on you. “I feel like you probably are. Just the right about of enthusiasm but you’re also a total perfectionist so it’d-”

“I don’t know!”

His exclamation is entirely too loud for the confined space of the car, his voice ricocheting sharply off the metal shell of the vehicle and causing you both to flinch a little. Stiles looks as if he wishes he could stuff the words back into his mouth and try again. You’re simply looking him over with a more critical eye, searching for the reason for his recent outburst as if it might be written plainly on his face, like you might find big emboldened letters of explanation etched across his skin.

“What’d’you mean you don’t know?” You scoff in amusement, “Y’know what? Fine-” You shuffle closer as an idea pops into your head — a brilliant, glorious, heaven-sent idea. His fingertips are still trapped within the palm of your hand and your knee slips over the top of his thigh as you slide closer and move into the center seat, “C’mere. I’ll give you review-”

Your face edges closer and closer to his own until your noses bump and the delicate touch seems to zap Stiles into alertness, sending him jolting back as if he’s been electrocuted.

The sourness that erupts in your belly at his reaction isn’t wholly unexpected, but a small flicker of shame joins it and burns like acid in your chest.

“Well, shit..” You murmur with an awkward chuckle.

It’s difficult to bite back the nagging feeling of embarrassment that swirls through your veins in response to being shot down by your best friend — your best friend that you’ve desperately been wanting to kiss since middle school.

You swallow harshly before continuing with a self-deprecating laugh, “I didn’t realize the thought of kissing me was quite so.. Horrifying. My bad.. I.. I’m sorry. You don’t- I didn’t think and I just- Sorry.” The last bit comes out quieter, the sound of it buried beneath the sudden tightness in your throat.

You find yourself avoiding his eyes, but that only means that your gaze is drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck — and there’s that glow from the diner’s neon sign again. His skin is cast in that red hue, smooth expanses of scarlet broken up by the speckles of dark moles and beauty marks scattered here, there, everywhere. You can almost make out his jumping pulse beneath the hollow of his throat, the dark crimson shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly with each too-quick beat of his heart.

They’re all spots that you’ve only dreamt of having your lips touch.

On rainy days when he shakes his hair out like a dog with the sole purpose of hearing the way you squeal in surprise, the drops of water finding their way down his temple and filling you with the urge to kiss it away.

When you slip into daydreams from the desk behind him during class, your eyes stuck on the exposed curve of his shoulder where his shirt collar is stretched just a little too loose, your lips tingling with the all-too vivid phantom feeling of his skin beneath them.

Trapped in his embrace, his height just enough that your face is smushed into his collarbones, nose crushed against him and pulling in the woodsy scent of his cologne, your mouth pressed limply to the soft cotton over his chest but aching with the desire to pucker and leave behind a gentle peck.

“No! No, it’s not that!” Stiles denies immediately. He’s already reaching out to drag you closer again, hands curling into your waist the moment you attempt to slip backwards into a bubble of shame in the passenger seat. “Kissing you would be the opposite of horrifying! It would be, like, a dream come true or- Or-”

Your eyebrows creep up your forehead at that, the barely there curve of a nervous smile pulling at the corners of your lips as his words seem to tumble out faster, growing increasingly difficult to understand as he rambles in a way that you’re all-too familiar with.

“-Because if I was going to kiss anyone, I’d want it to be you, but if I do kiss you and I’m horrible at it and you’re, like, repulsed-”

You’re still trying to piece things together despite the jumbled bits you seem to have missed. Your lips part in astonishment and his fingers tighten where they’ve begun to anxiously dig into your hips as he continues.

“-What if I’m worse than Mark? What if.. What if I’m so bad that you kiss me once and then you never, ever want to kiss me again because I was so unbelievably-”

“Stiles!”

You cut him off, already scooting closer until your left thigh is practically in his lap. His words cut off, a sharp inhale tearing past his lips as your hands find his shoulders, your thumb dragging over the freckled skin of his neck. You can feel his pulse jumping wildly against the pad of your finger as you finally voice your question.

“Are you telling me you’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask the question as delicately as you can manage, but he still winces as an embarrassed flush colors his cheeks further.

“Not.. Not technically.” He admits quietly, big brown eyes still tinted beneath the crimson glow from outside the Jeep.

“Not technically?” You repeat slowly.

“I don’t know why I thought saying it like that would make it sound better,” He says weakly, “It didn’t. It was still just as mortifying. And so, so lame.”

Your heart flutters, cracks, and then ticks up in quick succession as your flooded with a wide array of conflicting emotions. You can’t quite believe what it is you’re hearing.

“You haven’t had your first kiss?” The words come out a bit more heartbroken than you intended.

Stiles looks horrified at the bluntness of your statement for a moment before he’s swallowing harshly, eyes dropping from your own for a fleeting second.

“No,” He says in a quiet voice, nearly a whisper as his eyes flick back up to yours, “But, um, if- If you’re still offering.. I mean-”

Your heart is positively hammering in your chest, so hard you worry he might be able to hear it, but then your thumb drags up and brushes over his own racing pulse again and his nerves seem to somehow calm yours. Your lean forward until the tip of your nose catches on the bridge of his again, eyes not leaving his as you move achingly slow, giving him time in case he decides to change his mind.

“You’re sure?” You ask softly, the whispered question little more than a breath of warm air against the bow of his upper lip.

“Uh huh.” He just manages the quiet sound of affirmation, a small nod of his head has your lips brushing lightly and the barely-there touch pulls a sharp breath of anticipation from him.

“Okay,” You say quietly, dragging one hand to the back of his neck so you can guide the angle of his head just a touch to one side.

His grip on your hips readjusts and tightens further, one of his clammy palms slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, and the warmth of skin on skin has you breathing out harshly in the sliver of space between your lips again. Your eyes flick slow between his, wide pools of scarlet-tinted whiskey watching you with rapt attention. Your mouth curves up with the hint of a smile, a soft breath of laughter falling into his parted lips as your fingers dig into the thick muscle of his neck.

“Close your eyes, weirdo.” You whisper fondly.

“Shit, fuck. Sorry, yeah. Eyes closed.” He rambles off quickly, eyes pinching shut immediately and hands squeezing your hips as if silently promising that he’s ready.

Endeared. You’re so fucking endeared your organs feel as if they’ve gone warm and syrupy beneath your skin.

Despite your admonishment of his eyes being open, you find yourself unable to pull your own away from watching every small tick in his features. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you brush your nose across his and when the tight pinch of his eyes slackens and he takes a small nervous breath of anticipation, you finally press your lips to his.

It starts with just a small peck as your brain whites out for just a second. His lips are soft and chapped and plush against your own. You linger for a brief moment before you’re separating just enough to slot your mouths back together a little better.

His lower lip finds itself between yours and he gravitates toward you when you make like you’re about to draw back a second time, his mouth blindly searching for yours. He applies more pressure as he seems to become more sure of himself, one of his hands sliding to the base of your spine to drag you closer.

Impressed, you guide the angle of his head to tip just a hair further, your lips parting to exhale a hot breath into the gap between his own. A small sound rumbles from his chest as he tries to replicate the heat of your kiss on the next meeting. His lips fall open just enough that his breath mingles with your own and your brain goes a little heady with it, thighs tensing as blood rushes in your ears and heat pools in your gut.

You draw back and you’re forced to tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place when he tries to chase your mouth again. His eyes crack open to meet your own when he finds himself unable to catch you in another kiss and his pupils are blown a little wide, black overtaking brown until only a small ring of rich chocolate remains. You’re sure you don’t look much better, with the way our chest is threatening to heave with excitement, your fingers trembling where they’re gripping onto the muscle of his shoulder and woven into his hair.

“That was.. That was good.” You tell him after a moment, voice embarrassingly shaky, “What.. What’d you think?”

“Good.” He returns just as weak, “Great. That- Mhm. Awesome.”

His eyes are on your lips again and he looks downright hungry, but then, so are you.

“You’re a natural,” You praise breathlessly, eyes flicking between his rapidly as your fingers unconsciously tighten in his hair, “I’d never guess that was your first kiss – It was.. You learn fast.”

“We- You should probably show me more,” He insists, already leaning back in until his forehead finds your own, “That way I won’t end up like Mark, y’know? With pretty girls complaining to their friends about how wet and gross and bad it-”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He blinks at you as his lips curve up at the corners, the tip of his nose catching against yours to shoot sparks down your spine when he replies, “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” Is all you manage to get out as a smile tugs at your own lips.

“You want to maybe show me how to use tongue without, being completely repulsive and, like, drowning you or whatever?”

“Mhm,” You agree easily through a breathless laugh. You can’t quite help the quick press of your lips to his and you feel the relieved exhale that falls from his nose and fans out in a warm puff against your face. “Just for the record, though-” You feel the need to elaborate, “There is a time and a place for wet. When things are really hot and heavy and you’re in the throes of passion or whatever — a little too much tongue is great. It can be really, really hot. But- Like I said, time and place.”

The information leaves Stiles looking mildly overwhelmed and severely aroused, but he’s nodding dutifully, “Uh huh. Got it. Noted. I’ll remember that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

His mouth is claiming yours again before the word is even fully out, the sound of it lost in your lips and what remains is smothered by your gasp of surprise. You let him control the pace for a moment before remembering that you’re supposed to be the one guiding him.

You bring one hand up to his face, thumb catching his chin so you can guide his jaw to drop open a bit further as your tongue teases against the inside of his lip. His groan meets your ears, the sound of it sending a shockwave through your body that you’re still reeling from as he repeats your action with truly startling ease. The warm wetness of his tongue has you feeling hot all over, and when it catches against the tip of your own before retreating, you nearly whimper in protest at the loss.

He effortlessly settles into the pattern of give and take, hot brushes of tongues broken up by soft pecks against slick lips. His fingertips dig into your skin like he’s afraid you might slip away into nothing if he doesn’t hold you tight enough and you find your own fingers scraping at his scalp in response.

You’re both making soft little noises between the quiet smack of lips, the leather seats creaking every time your weight shifts in an attempt to get closer.

The lack of oxygen has your head a little fuzzy at the edges when you finally pull back and each of your exhales mingle warmly in the small sliver of space between your mouths as you both fight to catch your breath.

“I, um. I don’t think you have to worry about your kissing technique.” You tell him breathlessly just to break the silence, “You’re all good. A, uh, a great kisser. Eleven out of ten.”

“Cool. Cool. That’s great, I, um-” He coughs quietly, nervously, as he leans back to put a bit more space between you, “Would you maybe want to do it again sometime?”

He’s looking at you with pretty brown eyes blown wide and bleeding earnestness. The hand around your back has fallen to your upper thigh, the grip of it tightening as if punctuating certain words as he speaks. It’s entirely possible that your brain sort-circuits, because a moment of silence passes before he’s barreling on.

“-because I, for one, would really like to do that again sometime. Maybe.. Maybe after a date? Or during a date — that part doesn’t really matter. I just really like you and I have pretty much since forever and now that I’ve kissed you-”

“You like me?” Is all you manage past the heavy thumping of your heart in your chest, your ears — Shit, you’re pretty sure you can feel every pump of it in each trembling twitch of your fingers.

“So much that’s borderline embarrassing, yeah.” He admits, throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.

A breath whooshes past your lips, filled with relief and surprise and elation.

“I like you too.” You say after a beat too long, “Holy shit. Stiles, are you kidding me? I’ve liked you since the fifth grade.”

“Really?” He looks mildly shocked.

A giddy laugh escapes you as you drag him forward again to bring your lips back together. The kiss is chaste, but filled with so much emotion it makes your head swim a bit.

“Damn,” Stiles mutters suddenly, the frustrated curse puffing out against your cheek, “Does that mean we could’ve been doing this the whole time? Like, years of kissing-?”

His words cut off when your lips find his once more and he gives in easily, his train of thought thoroughly derailed.

“I guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for then, Stilinski.. You up for the challenge?”

Stiles nods wildly and he’s pulling you back in before you can say anything else.

#stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles x y/n #stiles x reader #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles fluff #dylan o'brien fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf stiles #* #dylan o'brien imagine

[ifonlyyouandi]

Happy Birthday Dylan O’Brien

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien fanfiction

[freedomfireflies]

Got any Dylan blurbs you wanna share? Maybe... smutty? 👀

“Quick, in here—”

“What…Dylan, what are we—”

“In here. Come on, hurry. Shut the door. Shut the door.”

With a distressed and confused huff, you push the bathroom door shut right as he reaches over your shoulder to flick the lock to the left.

Finally satisfied, he stands back, allowing you enough room to turn around and face him.

Which you do, eyebrow raised. “Baby…what are we doing in here?”

He hums, taking one, deliberate step toward you. Forcing you back against the closed door as he effortlessly cages you in. 

“We’re…taking a break,” he says, hand coming up to guide a hair behind your ear as he looks down at you. “From the party.”

“We are, are we?”

A singular nod as he brings himself even closer, his broad chest brushing yours, his lips only inches away. “We are. Is that a problem?”

Of course it’s not a problem. It’s never a problem with him, and he fucking knows it. Which is why you can already see the hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth as he presses his palm to your cheek and guides your face up.

“Hm?” he murmurs when you don’t reply, desperate just to make you say it.

Sadist.

“No,” you answer, with as much nonchalant confidence you can muster. “No, not at all. I think it’s sweet you wanna steal me away to chat.”

His head cocks, tongue running over his teeth as he grins. “Wanna do more than chat, peach.”

“Oh, yeah? What else? Wanna play some card games?”

His fingers move to your jaw, squeezing ever-so-slightly as he dips down and whispers, “No.”

But he’s smirking rather proudly, like he’s almost amused with your teasing, and you feel your heart beat a little faster as you breathe him in.

He hasn’t been more than twenty feet away from you all night.

But you’ve missed him. Missed having him this close to you.

And you especially missed his—

“Then what?” you ask innocently, lashes fluttering as the tip of his button nose brushes against yours. 

He moves to the right, lips ghosting your cheek as he taunts you with a taste. “Come on, peach…you really gonna make me say it?”

You find his fancy dress shirt and tug. “You bet your fucking ass I am.”

He hesitates for a moment, maybe contemplating a quippy retort (he always seems to have one) but eventually decides against it.

Instead…he kisses you.

And it’s infinitely better than any remark he might have made because you’ve been needing a taste of this fucking man all goddamn night.

And he knows it. Knows that you haven’t stopped yearning for him since the moment he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt. Knows you haven’t stopped thinking about those hands of his since the moment he ran them through his hair just to mess it up.

Knows you haven’t stopped squirming for him since the moment he sat down on the couch and placed you on his lap.

This isn’t a new game for either of you. The majority of your relationship consists of teasing touches and playful games. You like to see who’s gonna fold first. Who’s gonna cave.

Who’s gonna be put on their knees as they beg.

You have Dylan wrapped around your finger. Can read him like a book, know all of his secret fantasies and cheat codes.

But a majority of the time…you allow him to take the victory for himself. Because seeing him so dominant, so sure of himself, so determined to have you the way he wants…makes your head spin.

You’ve never loved anybody more. Will never love anybody more than you love him, and you’ll happily put your dominance aside just to be his submissive little plaything.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your bottom lip, hand wrapping around the back of your neck as if trying to claim you. “Been fucking teasing me all night, haven’t you?”

You nod but you don’t have to. He knows you have. Just like you know he’s been teasing you back.

“Grinding against my lap…trying to get yourself off…in front of all our friends,” he continues, now maneuvering under your jaw to trail his tongue up your pulse point. “Think I couldn’t feel you? Think I couldn’t tell…exactly what you were doing?”

You make some sort of incoherent noise that you hope satiates his need for an answer. Because he’s right. You were trying to send him a message, and you’re more than glad to hear he received it.

Loud and clear.

His familiar hand you love to hold travels from your hip to your dress, long fingers tugging the fabric up until he can slip underneath.

You steel yourself against the bathroom door, already filled with relief from the slightest brush of his skin against yours. It’s what you’ve needed all night. All day, all goddamn week.

You’ve always needed him.

Always will.

“Oh, peach,” he coos, voice dripping with faux pity. “You poor fucking thing…didn’t realize it was this bad. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it?”

Your eyes fall shut as your head rolls to the side. You can hardly focus on what he’s saying when you’re so overwhelmed by how he says it. 

His lips, and his touch, and his body. Pressing into yours, trapping you here against the wall. Bending you to his intentions so effortlessly. The way he always seems to do.

He drags the pad of his finger through you before dipping in just to feel the way you desperately clench around him.

And when he does…a rather morose sigh falls free as his forehead finds yours and he hisses, “So fucking needy, aren’t you? Need me to fuck you right now, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nearly whine, arms looping around his neck as you nod quickly. “God, yes…hurry—”

“Thought you liked it slow,” he taunts, dragging his teeth along your collarbone while his other hand falls from your neck to your chest. “Hard…and slow.”

And normally you do, but if the two of you are gone for more than fifteen minutes…then your friends might be able to piece a few things together.

You can feel him tug on the hemline just above your breasts, and you’re quick to reach out and snatch his wrist. “Can’t…can’t rip it, Dyl—”

“Why?” he hums, even if he knows exactly why. “Don’t want them to know what I’ve done to you?”

And you don’t. But you do…but you don’t. “Just…have to be quick. Come on—”

“Don’t wanna be quick with you,” he argues softly, the hand between your thighs now sadistically kneading at your clit. “Wanna take my time…make sure you feel me. Make sure everybody in this goddamn house hears the way you cry for me—”

“Dylan,” you breath, nails scratching down his arm. “Please…please—”

He seems to groan from the way you claw at him, and you know him well enough to know he likes it. “Easy, peach…”

“Need to feel you,” you whisper, hoping to add just enough innocent desperation to your voice that it pushes him over. “So bad, baby…hurts. Fucking hurts not to have you inside me—”

“Goddammit,” he growls, stepping back just to grab you and nearly sling you away from the door and toward the sink.

Your ass meets the porcelain as he surges forward to take your face between his palms. And he kisses you. So hard, your lungs nearly collapse.

Then…he mumbles, “Turn around.”

However, you aren’t even afforded the opportunity to comply before he’s grabbing onto your hips to force you around.

You grasp onto the sink as he pulls your dress up, his fingers curling around the delicate silk of your underwear before yanking it down.

He curses beneath a strained breath when he sees you, unable to resist running his touch back through. “So fucking ready, aren’t you?”

You nod quickly as you meet his eye in the reflection of the mirror.

And it almost kills you to look at him. It always kills you to look at him, but especially now. With his dark hair beautifully brushed askew. His freckled cheeks flushed, and his pink lips slightly swollen from sucking on you.

When you hear the sound of his belt coming undone, you nearly shiver. Ready to feel him again after what feels like an eternity.

Even if the last time was only last night.

“Easy,” he instructs, a gentle purr as the tip of his cock slips through your arousal. “S’a good girl. Hold on for me, okay?”

You nod again as you tighten your grip on the porcelain sink, bracing yourself as he gingerly kicks your feet further apart.

“That’s it,” he breathes before sliding in, and you both choke on a strangled gasp. “Fucking tight for me, aren’t you, peach? Always so ready for me…just like that, good. Good.”

Your eyes nearly roll back as his hand slips around to the front of your throat. He guides your back to his chest as he begins the steady rhythm of pulling out and driving back in.

And it’s euphoria. Fucking divinity to be here in his arms as he fucks you from behind. Exactly the way you like. Exactly the way you deserve.

You’ve always adored his dedication to your pleasure. To the opportunity to make you feel good. It’s a curtesy most guys from your past have neglected to show you.

But Dylan…

“Like that, don’t you, baby?” he asks, lips grazing the outer shell of your ear. “Know you do…know you fucking love when I ruin you like this—”

“Yes,” you whisper, fingers scratching down the hand on your neck. Desperate to touch him. Be a part of the pain. “Please…please—”

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, other arm wrapping around your lower stomach to keep you still. “That’s it…feel you squeezin’ me, peach. S’it feel good? Do you feel full, baby?”

Another fervent nod as you force yourself to find him in the mirror. And you love to look at him. Could look at him for the rest of your life, especially like this. Concentrated and eager.

So fucking in love.

You’ve never doubted he loves you. But you can tell just by the way you touches you. Fucks you. Holds you.

When things weren’t as serious between you, his style was different. Still excellent and devoted, but casual. A quick moment to share before you both went your separate ways.

Now…now he savors you. Savors each second he spends with his cock inside of you. Savor every goddamn moment that he gets to hold you in his arms and call you his.

“How much time left, honey?” he asks as he meets your stare.

You whimper when he does, lashes fluttering as you clench around him just to watch his teeth grit. “Not much…please, Dyl.”

“I know,” he grumbles, pressing a kiss to the side of your throat as he winks at you. “I know, peach. Can’t touch you the way I want, so I need you to help me out, yeah? Go onn—”

You waste no more time, hand finding your clit as you press and rub elegant circles into yourself. Until it almost becomes too much, and you’re forced to see the end much faster than you want.

Because you want to stay here with him forever. Want to keep feeling this rush of adrenaline and pleasure for the rest of your life.

He knows you’re close. Always knows. Can tell by your incoherent whimpers and frenzied gasps for air.

And lucky for him, he’s been edging himself all damn day because of you. Letting his eyes trail your figure while you took a shower. Letting himself watch you as you dressed. Letting himself feel you soaking your underwear as you sat on his lap.

“That’s it…that’s it, come on, baby. Please…come for me, be a good girl,” he groans, arm tightening around your hip. “Go on…shit—”

It happens simultaneously. You’d hoped it would, but you’re pleased to feel him fill you, exactly the way he promised.

And it’s everything. So fucking delicious, and so perfect.

He chases both your highs for at least a minute more, making sure you keep teasing yourself until you have no choice but to stop. 

He doesn’t pull out for quite some time, forehead finding your shoulder once more as he breathes you in.

You reach back and tangle your fingers in his hair, reveling in the feel of his heated body against yours.

“My fucking girl,” he whispers after a moment, tilting your head to the side so he can kiss you. “Always, yeah?”

You smile.

“Always.”

~ Other Dylan Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#dylan #dylan o’brien #dylan o'brien one shot #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien blurb #dylan o'brien request #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #dylan o'brien smut #smut #request #blurb #concept #dylan o'brien fanfiction

[sadgirlstoohightocare]

The Dylan O'Brien fic content lately is pretty limited and that makes me sad; I think I might do a couple pieces for him, sorry not sorry. 😅

#dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #dylan o'brien x oc #dylan o'brien #sadgirlstoohightocare mini rant #sadgirlstoohightocare fics

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Miss your writing! So talented!

YOU!!!

That's so sweet! I was actually effing around with something recently, but I've been super busy in my IRL existence with work and stuff. I did get a bit of a bug to write after we got fed all that new content.

Here's a little sneak peak <3

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!!!’ I'm at JFK' 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?’  ‘👀’

*grins deviously*

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #trashy writing #ask #anon #anon ask #lovely anon is lovely