#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.

~ The Playboy* (1965 playboy!Harry)

The one where you’re a Playboy Bunny and Harry is Hugh’s assistant. The one person you aren’t allowed to love.

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

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Welcome Home

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

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

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

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

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

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply. 

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

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

‘Newark!?’ 

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

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

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

‘👀’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed thickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please…” you whispered. 

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

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

He smiled and shook his head. 

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

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

“Too late.” 

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

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

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

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

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

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

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

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue. 

“Not helping.”

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

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

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck. 

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

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled. 

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

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

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

“Relentless fucking tease–” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you so fucking much.” 

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

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

#Dylan O'Brien imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #trashy writing #welcome home fic #I mean... is this earth-shattering work? #nah #but hey! #I wrote something creative for the first time in a long time and that felt really good actually #so I hope you guys like this #MUCH LOVE CUTIESSS!!!! #time to go vomit because posting writing make me feel so anxious I wanna die

[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

[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

[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)

A random Sterek Thought (Stiles/Derek) Several people have made comments on Derek and Stiles arguing with each other and speaking different languages - I’ve no clue where I first saw it but it’s awesome. So…. (445 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)

Tumblr for Werewolves (Stiles and Derek) So… If stiles existed you KNOW he would have had a Tumblr. In this essay I will… (823 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

[sweet-pea-channie]

Forbidden Love - S.S. AU Pt. 2

Author: @sweet-pea-channie​​

Words: +7.5k

Warnings: first kiss, gentle foreplay, finger tracing, fingering, first time sex, unprotected sex (obviously since this takes place in the 1600′s), multiple orgasm

A/N: Part two of Forbidden Love for you guys! I had to rewrite the intimite part, because I wasn’t happy with it. It didn’t feel like the two of them were inexperienced. But I hope you liike it! 

Do you want to be added to the taglist? Let me know!

Masterlist - Series Masterlist

"Y/N where are you?"

You hadn't been hiding there for long, and you wondered how quickly Stiles could find you already. You tried to be as quiet as possible, but your heart was beating way too fast and way too loud, your breathing was also very unsteady from running around the castle.

"Y/N?"

You put your hand over your mouth to block out any possible sounds. After all, Stiles could always find you, no matter where. Within no time, he always knew exactly where you were hiding.

"I know you're here somewhere in the room. I heard the door slam. No one else comes in here."

You gulped and peeked through the narrow crack of the closet you'd been hiding in. Stiles stood in the middle of the room, slowly turning over his right shoulder. He inspected the entire room, wondering where you might have been hiding. His eyes fell on the closet you were in, and as if looking directly into your eyes, he sprinted straight for you. Before he could even open the closet door, a low screech escaped your lips, the fear that he could crush you along with the closet door was greater than the fear of finding you. Stiles pulled open the door and smiled at you.

"It’s your turn now," he laughed and ran right out of the room. You grabbed the skirt of your dress and lifted it to run faster after him. Your short legs didn't make it any easier. You watched as Stiles ran all the way down the hall and disappeared shortly after. Even though you couldn't count, Stiles didn't care that you always begged not to have to search. He always said that you could just stop for a while before you went looking for him.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? I told you, you can't be in the hallways of the castle in public," you heard your father's voice behind you. You turned around and looked into the tired and worn out eyes of your father, who was carrying heavy wooden slats through the castle. He didn't give you an evil look, more a worried one. Since he always brought you to the castle and you were less and less around him, he worried about you every day. He didn't know what was happening to you while you were sneaking around the castle.

"Stiles and I are playing hide and seek," you replied simply, pointing in the direction Stiles had just disappeared. "It's my turn to search now."

"Honey, I've told you several times not to play with Stiles. There are the other girls downstairs in the kitchen. I'm sure they can play with you, or you can help the ladies with the kitchen chores. How does that sound to you?"

"I don't want to do that, though. I want to play with Stiles. Stiles is the only one here who is nice to me and doesn't laugh at me for not being able to read and count. Everyone else is always making fun of me," you explained to your dad, giving him the best pout you could manage.

Your father put down the wooden slats and squatted down to be at your eye level. "Y/N, I know that you want to play with Stiles the most and I also understand that he is the nicest to you. But that may change with time. Stiles is not like us, sweetie. Stiles will eventually rule this castle and this country, unless something comes up."

"Maybe I can become a princess?!" you asked your father full of hope, already jumping up and down slightly, but your father held you by your shoulders and tried to calm you down. "Sometimes, unfortunately, dreams remain dreams. Now be a good girl and go to the kitchen to Katherine, I'm sure she can use your help."

There was a knock at the kitchen door and Katherine looked up. One of the castle boys, friends of Stiles, came into the kitchen and looked around briefly. "Can I help you, young man?" asked Katherine when he couldn't seem to find what he was looking for. "Because I think you're lost, aren't you?"

"No, I'm looking for Y/N," he replied, seeing you standing behind Katherine.

"May I ask why?"

"I have something for her," he said, pulling out a small piece of parchment from his pants pocket. "This is from Stiles."

You looked at Katherine questioningly until she nods, letting you know it would be okay to get closer to him. After all, you had experienced it yourself a few times now, what it was like to be nastily picked on by the people who lived in the castle. Only a few days ago you were pulled by your braided hair by a lord until he dragged you on your knees behind him. The injuries on your knees were still healing. Why he did that to you was something you didn't know at the time. Even now, not really. But according to the employees in the kitchen, you should not have approached him so easily, and meanwhile you had asked quite nicely for the way to the queen. You were now better aware that you were not allowed to do that.

So you walked with careful steps to the boy, who was about your age, and took the parchment from his hand. You opened it and found several characters on it. But since you couldn't read and no one had ever taught you, you looked at Katherine again and reached out to give it to her. Katherine was one of the only ones in the kitchen who was lucky enough to read. She smiled at you and read the message once silently to herself before deciding to read it to you as well, but not before kindly asking the boy out of the kitchen. "He writes that he is proud of you for getting a job here in the kitchen and he wants to meet you later by the magnolia tree, then when the sun is between the owl tower and the big willow."

Your eyes sparkled as Katherine read you the message from Stiles. For a long time you had hoped that you would finally be allowed to work in the kitchen. And yesterday was the day. You were officially appointed as a kitchen servant. Your father was immensely proud of you when you broke the news to him late that evening.

"Y/N, you have to be careful. I told you before not to keep seeing our prince," Katherine said as she handed you the parchment. Even though you couldn't read what was written on it, you looked at the characters again. Stiles had never written to you before, after all, he didn't know where to deliver it so it could reach you. But now he could always send you something.

"And you're not the only one," you laughed, tucking the parchment into one of the pockets of your apron. "But yeah, I know I shouldn't see him. But I've known Stiles for eight years now, ever since Father first brought me to the castle."

"You were both only 7 years old then, Y/N. Stiles didn't know who you were yet."

"And he still doesn't care. Stiles isn't like everyone else," you tried to defend him and you knew Katherine knew that too judging by her look, yet the features on her face were one of concern.

"Oh Y/N, your soul is far too kind for this," she sighed, gently pushing you outside. "I think it's almost time. Go outside to the courtyard and see where the sun is setting. I don't think it will be long now."

"Thank you, Katherine," you thanked her and smiled at the older lady before heading outside where the other servants were already making their rounds and returning with the freshly harvested fruits and vegetables to prepare the evening meal. "I won't be gone long, I promise."

"You know where to find us," Katherine called after you as you were already running away. The sun was already behind the tower, and indeed it wasn't long before it was between the owl tower and the willow. And since the way to the magnolia tree was not exactly short, you decided to make your way there already now.

The magnolia tree had been your hiding place for years. Even though it was one of the most beautiful trees, it was little visited, it was too far away for the ladies of the court and surrounded by bushes and undergrowth. Most would have been more afraid of destroying their garment there. You didn't care of course, most of your dresses already had holes and were not the most beautiful. Well, and Stiles, Stiles didn't care about his clothes either. He had his own tailors, after all, who were only busy making him and his family new clothes.

"Y/N," you heard Stiles' voice behind you. It was very quiet, even though no one was around, but you could still recognize his voice, even from miles away.  You quickly turned around and saw him standing there in his everyday clothes, a simple pair of dark pants with black boots and a white shirt. He had left his tunic off, out here in the sun it seemed far too warm for it.

"Stiles," you breathed out, running the last few steps towards him. Stiles smile grew until he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground. "I haven't seen you in so long."

"I know," he replied, setting you back down on the ground, but keeping his arms around your body. "I've been with my dad a lot. We fought together with the sword for the first time today. Otherwise it was always Louis I had practiced with."

"That sounds like fun," you countered, playing with the ribbons of his blouse.

"It was, but I want to know more about your day, what's it like to finally get to work here?" he asked, slowly breaking away from you. Immediately you missed his warmth and wanted to get back into his arms, however Stiles pointed directly at the trunk of the magnolia and sat on the ground before leaning against the tree. He made room for you to sit next to him and so you used his shoulder as a backrest. And as you leaned against him and pulled your knees towards you, your robe slipped off your knees and your injuries on your knees were visible. Quickly you pulled the robe back over your knees, but Stiles had already seen them. He stopped you by grabbing your hand and looked at you, startled. With his other hand he grabbed your dress and said softly, "May I?"

You nodded and watched as Stiles carefully pulled your dress off your knees to get a better look at the injuries. "Damn, Y/N, that doesn't look good at all," he said after seeing the red knees. The wounds were already crusted over and looked pretty bad, but crusting always meant it was already healing, after all. "How did this happen?"

"Can we maybe talk about something else? We certainly don't have that much time," you replied, pulling the dress back over your knees so he couldn't see it.

"Y/N, please tell me how this happened. It doesn't look like a simple fall to me. What happened?"

You took a deep breath before reading out a loud sigh, "I wanted to thank your mother for the job in the kitchen... I know now that was just stupid and rash of me. Lord Westbrook made that clear to me when I asked him for directions. It's really not as bad as it looks Stiles-"

"It looks pretty bad to me, Y/N. Your knees are all red around the wounds, which means it's infected. You should have the medicus here look at it, if it gets worse I can't forgive myself," he asked.

"I can't just go to the Medicus here in the castle. I have no rights for that and I don't have enough money for the herbalist in the village. Clarissa, the woman who still lives in our house, said that cold compresses and sage help. So that's what I've been doing the last few evenings."

"Doesn't really seem to help if it still looks like that, though," Stiles countered.

"Can we maybe not argue about this right now and just enjoy the short time we have?" you asked him, resting your head on his shoulder. Stiles sighed and put his hand on your head to run through your hair. "Of course."

But Stiles didn't quite settle down, he rummaged around in the pocket of his pants until he found a few silver pennies and placed them in the pockets of your apron. "Please do me a favor and take it to the herbalist. I don't want it to get any more infected."

"Stiles, I can't accept that, it will stand out if I suddenly show up there with so many coins."

"Can you turn your head off for a moment? The herbalist won't care where you got the coins. She only cares about the value and less about where it all came from. Please Y/N, please go there. If you don't go there I'll just worry until I see you next time and you mean way too much to me for that."

"Yes?”

"Yes what?"

"That I mean that much to you?"

"You don't even know how much," he murmured, stroking your hair once more.

"You mean a lot to me too, Stiles," you replied, smiling at him.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Good," Stiles said, smiling before doing something he had never done before. He put his hand on your cheek and turned your head in his direction so you could just look at him. This time you couldn't read him, something you were always very good at. Stiles was easy for you to see through but probably only because you knew him so long and well. But this time you couldn't guess what he was up to.

Stiles moistened his lips before coming dangerously close to your face, only to finally place his lips on yours. Never before had you kissed anyone and you weren't sure how to react. His lips were soft and warm, not that you've ever had any to compare them to, but still, you could already tell that they were the softest lips you could ever get to feel.

After gathering your thoughts and being able to process that Stiles was kissing you, something you had been hoping for for a very long time, you finally kissed him back. You could feel that Stiles was relieved and smiled into the kiss, he smiled so much that he pulled away from you slightly. This also gave you a chance to gasp for air. "Stiles..."

"I know," he said, placing his lips on yours again. He pulled you closer to him as he did so, and grabbed your legs to lay them across his lap. That way you could sit much more comfortably and didn't have to twist your body like that. He left his hands on your legs after that and gently stroked from your ankles up to your knees while your hands were completely engulfed in his blouse where you held on so tightly as if you were standing off a cliff.

"Stiles we can't do this," you said as you pulled away from him. His lips were swollen and now bright red, far too tempting for you and so you had to look away before you got any further into the mess.

"We can't do this in the castle, but no one will see us out here, Y/N."

"And what if they do?"

"Don't worry, you'll be my secret."

"How is your father?" you asked Stiles when you first saw him after the terrible news. The news had made its rounds some time ago, but now a few days ago the royal couple had made it public. The king was ill and you didn't know how soon he would be well again, and if he would be well at all. What exactly he had was not disclosed to you in order to protect him.

"Sometimes better, sometimes worse. Lately, though, he's had more bad days than good," he sighed, opening his eyes again. Stiles had put his head in your lap while you had been resting against the magnolia tree.

"I'm very sorry about that, Stiles," you replied, lightly stroking his head.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Y/N. It's least of all your fault. I'm saying he's been under a lot of stress lately and he's already been pretty banged up. I think that's taken its toll on him now and his body has signaled that it's too much now."

"Are you afraid that he's going to...? You know, die?" you asked.

Stiles reached for your other hand and intertwined your fingers. "Sometimes I am. I lie awake at night every once in a while wondering what if. I haven't been by his side long enough to be able to rule the country on my own. Mother would step in and take over for that time anyway. But I know how the people feel about my mother, or you do too. You're just afraid to go near her, and I don't want a country to live in fear and anxiety."

"How can I take your mind off of it, Stiles? I don't want to see you suffer like this," you said as you now played with his fingers.

"Well, I'm distracted enough now, but at night I often have trouble falling asleep. As long as I'm with you I'm fine," he answered and gave your hand a gentle kiss. And while he had his lips on the back of your hand, you could see that he was thinking about something. His dreamy look told you that.

"What is it?"

"What if you came over tonight?"

"Stiles!" you warned him, taking your hand from his. The movement was so jerky that Stiles startled and sat down on his knees beside you. "We can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Did you actually turn your little head on with that idea? How am I supposed to get in? What am I supposed to tell my dad where I am? What if I get caught? Your mother would immediately throw me in the dungeon and let me starve there. And what if-"

"Hey, hey, hey, slow down. Your head's about to start smoking if you don't slow down. Have you forgotten already? The tunnels under the castle, there's an entrance right down the hall from my room. I could make sure that no guard is on the way and you sneak past into my room. And don't worry about your father, I can handle that," he said, pushing himself off the floor with his hands. He gave you a quick kiss on the lips before he could clean his pants from the dirt and got ready to leave you alone again. But before that he reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out something small, round and golden. He reached out and helped you back to your feet as well, before placing the small golden something in your hands.

"This here is a Petrus Hehle, also known as a clock. My father was given this by Peter Henlein when he was traveling through the East by ship. He managed to turn time into this little movement. So we don't always have to look at how the sun is standing to know what time it is."

"Stiles, I can't read that, though."

"Yes you can, look. I taught you the numbers, didn't I? Do you recognize them here? You just have to keep turning it so you can see the numbers right and they're not upside down. When the little hand is on IX and the big hand is on XII, then it's 9 o'clock in the evening. Then I'll make sure the entrance to the tunnel is unguarded, okay? Do you trust me?" he asked, closing your hand around the little Peter throat, as he had called it.

"Always," you replied, just looking him in the eye.

"Okay, see you later then," he said and ran off. "Ah wait a minute! You have to use the tunnel entrance behind the orchard, I'll mark the rest of the way for you!"

So, full of nervousness, you were now standing in front of the door that led to the underground tunnels. There had been no one in the kitchen for some time. After dinner, everything was quickly cleaned and then all the servants went home, except for the one person who usually stayed at the castle overnight, should be an emergency overnight. But for that person a little hat was provided to spend the night. You told them that you were waiting for your father, who was working a little later than usual, and then he would pick you up. So no one asked questions why you were there longer than everyone else.

The little golden something in your hand showed shortly before 9 o'clock. The sun had already set and the castle showed itself from the dark side. You walked to the entrance of the tunnel in the dark so as not to attract attention and then lit the small oil lamp that Stiles had placed at the door. The door opened a little harder than you thought, but in no time you were standing in the cold corridors, following the markings on the wall that Stiles had probably painted there with the help of stones.

A short time later, you found yourself at another door that you passed. You assumed that must be the door into the castle, and you were right. You could see your name on the door. Now that Stiles had taught you to read a few months ago, it was easy for you to recognize it.

With the back of your sleeve you wiped your name off the door in case someone came by and saw it. You blew out the oil lamp and placed it back on the floor before slowly opening the door. The dark hallway quickly filled with the light coming from the castle, bringing in a bit of warmth. Immediately you recognized Stiles' voice from further away. He seemed to be talking to someone. With one last look at the clock Stiles had given you, you saw that it must have been just after 9 o'clock, because the big hand had already passed XII.

"Can you make sure no one goes into my room tonight? Since I'm not so dazzling, I don't want anyone to disturb me and see me that way either, do you understand?"

Stiles' voice sounded different than usual and not as cordial, it had a stern tone, something you weren't used to hearing from him like that.

"May I ask you one more question, Sir?" asked the guard Stiles may have been talking at.

"But of course," Stiles replied.

Taking this as a chance, you made your way into the hallway before letting the door slam shut behind you and quickly slipped into the hallway next door, where Stiles' room was located. The door was ajar and you dashed inside.

Your mouth watered when you finally saw the inside of his room, until now you had only seen him from downstairs at his window and you only knew the room from stories. His bed stood in the middle of the large room, which was already lit with a few candles. In front of the bed was a small chest with several skins on it to keep Stiles warm probably during the night. You wanted to inspect every millimeter of his room, but unfortunately you didn't get the chance, because the door opened. You startled and hid behind the bed, hoping no one had seen you.

"Y/N? Are you here?" asked Stiles after he had safely closed the door to his room.

"I'm here," you replied, coming out of your hiding place. Stiles was already in his sleeping garb and free of any clothing that made him a prince. You could almost say he was a normal citizen.

Stiles came up to you in five quick and big steps and grabbed your face with his big hands before bringing it closer to yours and kissing you deeply. You hadn't shared many kisses in the long time since he first kissed you. Too often the danger was too high that someone could catch you. The only place where you could always be undisturbed was the magnolia tree. But you two didn't always manage to meet there. There was a lot to do in the kitchen, and Stiles couldn't leave the castle without excusing himself very often. His mother noticed that he was missing more and more often.

"I'll be able to sleep a lot better tonight with you here," he mumbled against your lips, and then finally detached himself completely. "You're completely freezing, come with me."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the other end of the room, where there were several dressers and closets. He pulled one of his nightgowns from the dresser and handed it to you. "Your clothes are damp and cold from the tunnel. If I had known it was this cold down there, I wouldn't have sent you through there."

"It's okay, Stiles," you assured him, taking off the cloak you had thrown around your shoulders.

"Let me put that away. Preferably near the fire, so it can dry quickly. I'll give you a little quick time to change, okay?"

You nodded and disappeared behind the small movable wall that was set up there to have some privacy while you changed. Stiles was standing by the fire and had placed your cloak there on one of the stools and was watching you through the wall. There wasn't much to see, because the wall covered some things, but he could visibly see your figure behind it.

A little later you came out from behind the wall again and stood quite uncomfortably on the spot. In your head you had been imagining all evening what I would talk about, how you would spend the evening together, but suddenly your head went blank, you didn't know what to say anymore.

Stiles looked you up and down once. Your bare legs shone in the light of the fire and your open hair, which was usually braided into a tight braid, now reached down to your back. But what distracted Stiles most was something else. You didn't seem to realize it at first, but because of the cold you felt, your nipples could be clearly seen through Stiles' nightgown. Stiles caught himself staring at it for too long, trying to look at your beautiful face.

You looked down at yourself to see what Stiles had been watching the whole time and were startled to see what he was looking at. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest and made yourself small by looking down at the floor.

Stiles quickly walked up to you and took your hands in his. "Don't, you don't have to hide. Not from me."

You nodded and watched him run his fingers up your arms, sliding them along your shoulders and stopped right over your chest. Your breath stopped and you couldn't even tell exactly how your body was reacting. "May I?" he asked softly, looking up from his fingers into your eyes. You weren't sure if this was really the right thing to do and if you should step in here and now. But you listened to your heart and not your head this time. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," you replied, nodding to signal to him that it was okay with you. Stiles fingers slowly danced across your chest, hitting your hard nipples. A wave of euphoria ran through your body and your arms and legs were marked by the goosebumps that spread across your skin. "You're all sensitive."

"Stiles, I don't know if this is right what we're doing," you confessed to him as his fingers slid further down to your belly.

"We can stop this anytime you want, Y/N. I don't want to force you to do anything."

"Trust me Stiles, this all feels so right, but what if-"

"When was the last time you bled?"

"Hmm?"

"When was the last time you bled, Y/N?"

"Just a few days ago, why?"

"Then you don't have to worry about it. Come with me," he said, leading you by his hand to his bed. He laid you down on the bed first and put your legs a little apart so he could get comfortable between them. You were still a bit unsure, because the whole situation was not familiar to you. Seeing Stiles sitting there between your legs was at first a little uncomfortable. But when he started to move his fingers slowly from your feet up to your knees, your thoughts disappeared immediately.

Stiles stopped at your knees and kissed both of your knees. The wounds had long since healed, though the scars were still clearly visible. You had always hidden them. Not even your father or sister knew about the scars. Only Stiles and the herbalist in the village who had helped you knew about them. Stiles was relieved when you showed him the healed scars for the first time. He was sure that you would not dare to go to the herbalist.

Carefully he drove his fingers further and further up, first along the top of your thighs, then again from the front but this time on the inside. Your whole body started to tingle and you caught yourself longing for his touch. Stiles saw your reaction and grinned down at you. He knew exactly how shy you were and how virginal. He wasn't a bit less so, but he had no qualms about you. He knew you were the person who knew him best.

Stiles reached for the collar of his nightgown and pulled it over his head until he was clad only in his linen underwear. "Give me your hand."

As instructed, you reached your hand out to him and Stiles took it in his. To loosen you up a bit, he started running your fingers over his stomach to get to know his body. His chest was overlooked by a few individual hairs, but they were already quite thick for his young age. The hairs tickled your fingers and you had to smile as you ran your fingers over his chest. Stiles let go after a while when he noticed that you were starting to feel comfortable with what you were doing.

You dropped your hands and propped yourself up on them to sit up a bit. With your legs wrapped around Stiles' waist, you too reached for the nightgown and pulled it over your head. Stiles took the robe from you and put it with his before looking at you. "You're beautiful, Y/N."

Your cheeks flushed and you bit your bottom lip. Stiles held you by the shoulders and gently laid you back on your back as he engaged you in a kiss. You could feel his tongue on your lips and so you opened your lips a little more to give him the kiss. Stiles didn't wait long and deepened the kiss in no time while he wrapped one of your legs around his waist and snuggled up to you even more. As if Stiles had done this many times before, he moved his hips against yours, creating friction between your underwear. A feeling you couldn't describe ran through your body and you had to pull away from his lips to let out a slight moan.

"You like that?" whispered Stiles, placing his lips on your neck where he gently began to suck on your tender skin.

"Mmm," you moaned, wrapping your arms around his torso. "Stiles..."

"Shh," he murmured against your skin, his lips moving further down until he reached your breasts. He looked up at you one last time to make sure you were okay before he saw your flushed expression and placed his lips around your left nipple.

Immediately you reacted to this and pressed your chest closer to his head, his arms wrapped around your torso and held you tightly while he made circling movements around your nipple with his tongue. Over and over again he heard you moaning softly, but that wasn't enough for him, he wanted to hear you much louder. With his left hand he reached for your free breast and pinched your nipple. You had not expected this action and so you screamed out briefly, but not from pain, but more from excitement. You had never felt anything like this before. Your whole body trembled and tingled, from your toes up to your ears and you didn't want Stiles to stop.

But as if Stiles could read your mind, he detached himself from your breasts and licked his lips once before bending down again and this time putting your other nipple between his lips and gently biting it. Again you moaned loudly and pressed your upper body against his. Stiles took his other arm from under you and searched for the loop of your linen underwear. After finding it, he blindly undid the knot and pulled on the string until it came loose. He sat up and left you lying back there on the bed all excited as he looked at what he had done. Your breasts were all red and purple, clear marks of what he had done were now on those and it made him a little proud that he had done that.

"Stiles, are you sure you want to take this step with me and not with someone more made for you?" you asked him, hoping he would say yes.

"If not with you, then with no one else," he replied, kissing you deeply. While you pressed your tongue against his lips this time and deepened the kiss, Stiles continued to make a pass at your underwear, pulling them off your legs. You helped him do this and took turns pulling your legs on to make it easier for him.

"Was that the picture in your head of distraction today?" you asked him with a light chuckle as he finally pulled the last piece of clothing off of you and was now going after his underwear.

"Quite possibly," he answered your question and sat back on his heels as he finally got rid of the fabric. His excited member jumped up against his belly and beamed happily at you there. In your abdomen everything contracted at the thought that you were about to become intimate with each other and a little you were afraid that his penis would not fit inside you, after all it was huge and very thick, the vein on his penis already throbbing with excitement.

"Don't worry," Stiles whispered as he reached for his member and pumped it two or three times. "I'll make sure you're okay, I promise."

You nodded and watched as Stiles opened your legs a little wider. If you felt too naked earlier, you felt even more so now. Lying stark naked like that with your legs spread in front of a boy was very foreign to you, but you weren't afraid of Stiles. Just as he had said, if not with him, then with no one else.

Stiles fingers again traveled from your knee up along your inner thigh until he stopped at your vagina and took one deep breath. This was new to him too, he had never done this before either. He had only ever heard about it when the visitors to the castle talked about it, when they were once again in one of the certain houses in the village.

With one finger he collected your juices as he passed through your lips and stopped at your clitoris. An unknown feeling permeated your body as his finger came into contact with it. You too had heard of women and girls pleasuring themselves before, but you were too shy for that.

Stiles liked your reaction to his actions and so he repeated what he had just done, but made sure to pay more attention to your clit and rubbed it a little longer. With a moan, you arched your back up and pressed your hips more into Stiles' hand. Stiles grinned and watched you loll and stretch in his bed while he rubbed your clit as sensitively as he could with circular motions.

"Stiles," you moaned again and this time managed to say his name. Stiles could feel how he and his penis liked it too, because it twitched at your moan. He bit his lip and switched his fingers. With his thumb, he now rubbed your nub and carefully penetrated your vagina with one finger. A much louder moan escaped your lips and you couldn't control yourself anymore, so Stiles, although he didn't like to do that now, had to pray you to be a little quieter. After all, he didn't want to get caught and enjoy every minute with you.

"Please," you begged, pushing your hips further and further into his hand so that Stiles now had his finger completely engulfed and was slowly starting to pump with it. He loved the feeling of your warm walls around his finger and he wondered how it would feel to add another one. So carefully he played around with your hole with another finger until he inserted this one and was now making scissor-like motions inside you with two fingers. "Don't stop," he heard you whimper softly and saw your hand resting on your breast, playing with your nipple. It turned him on much more and he was sure he wanted to do it much more often.

Stiles felt your walls start to spasm around his fingers and he increased the pace of his fingers inside you and also on your clit. The combination of the two eventually managed to spread through your entire body, starting in the tips of your feet, a twitching and insanely crazy sensation, something you had never experienced before and you were sure that Stiles had just created your first orgasm. The sensation became so enormous that you had to literally slap Stiles' hand off of you and catch your breath.

Stiles could see the sweat on your forehead, your chest was also shining in the light of the fire and was covered with a light layer of sweat. He grinned, proud of himself for having just done that to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than ever," you replied, pulling him back over you to kiss him. Stiles laid back between your legs as you did so, wrapping one of them around his waist. You could feel his aroused member seeking its way between your now wet lips. Your hips moved with his and that alone was enough to get a moan out of Stiles. He detached himself from your lips and looked between your bodies for a moment before taking his penis in his hand and gently pushing it into the entrance of your vagina.

You immediately felt that this was a little more uncomfortable than his fingers had been just a moment ago, but since you were still so marked and wet from your high, you again pushed your hips towards him and watched as his penis disappeared and penetrated further and further inside you. You could feel a slight tugging in your genital area and so you squeezed your eyes shut a bit. Stiles noticed this immediately and stopped his movements to make sure you were okay.

"Everything's okay, I just have to get used to it. Keep going," you whispered and nodded to show him that everything was really okay.

So Stiles continued, penetrating you further and further until he was completely engulfed in you. He struggled with it too, because the feeling was way too powerful for him too. You were so tight that he felt like he was already going to burst at any moment and he didn't know how he could move even an inch further without coming immediately.

Carefully he shifted his weight to his right arm and stroked your cheek with his left hand, watching you as your face slowly relaxed and you opened your eyes again. You grinned at him, letting him know everything was okay. "Please Stiles, move. I can't take this anymore."

"As you wish," he murmured, pulling his hips back until his penis was almost completely out of you again before thrusting once deep inside you. Stiles and you both moaned at the same time, the sensation too much for the two of you. If you thought that felt great earlier, you were completely wrong. Stiles' penis was filling you much better than his fingers and he was reaching places inside you that he couldn't reach earlier.

The room filled with the sound of bare skin hitting each other over and over again and the moans from both of you. Stiles silenced you by putting his lips on yours and kissing you. However, the kiss was far too sloppy as you both concentrated on making love.

You now wrapped your other leg around his waist as well and he penetrated you even deeper, the moan from him you successfully engulfed with your lips, though you couldn't help it either and broke away from him to whimper loudly once yourself. "Damn that feels good," he groaned, dropping his head on your chest.

His slow movements were slowly turning into fast and shorter thrusts and he had to lean on both arms again to keep going like this. Stiles felt himself getting closer and closer to his own orgasm. He already knew the feeling, more often he had given it to himself. You too could feel his thrusts getting sloppier, but still, thanks to the new position of your legs around his hips, he was hitting new places in you that made you feel way too good.

"Come with me, Y/N, please come with me, I can't take much more," Stiles begged, resting his forehead on yours. He looked deep into your eyes while one of his hands found its way between you and he was now playing with your clit again. You let out a painful whimper as you realized what this was doing to you. With one last effort, you struggled not to close your eyes and let yourself go here and now and looked him in the eyes as well. Your walls caved in around Stiles’ dick as the knot grew tighter. Your toes curled and you held the sheet beneath you as tight as you could as your release came over you. You let go of the knot, letting your nerves ignite with pleasure, screaming for Stiles as you rolled your eyes.

Stiles couldn't hold it in any longer either and shot his entire load he had into you. Your juices dripping out of you as he continued his pace and his eyes closed. His whole body shook with pleasure. Your senses are overfilling as his cock twitches inside and you could feel exactly that he had just come.

He stopped inside you, his heart beating loudly and forcefully against your chest as he carefully laid himself on top of you. "Damn," he groaned, wiping the sweat from your forehead once with the back of his hand.

You stroked his bare back with your hands while you both steadied your breathing again and slowly your pulse returned to normal. But still, you felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest, not from excitement, but from love for the boy who had just taken your virginity.

"Stiles?"

"Hmm?"

"My heart belongs only to you, no matter what," you confessed to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Stiles turned his head so he was looking at you and smiled at you. He pressed his lips to yours and kissed you again before saying, "You've had mine for years."

Taglist: @woahcrowley @spideysimpossiblegirl   allisonargentswifey8  @roxic93​@stiles-stark 

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski au #stiles stilinski series #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles x reader #teen wolf #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien series #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan 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

[ifonlyyouandi]

Happy Birthday Dylan O’Brien

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien fanfiction

[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

[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

[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

[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

[jennygirl2014]

Chicago Honey Chapter 2

A young woman tries to take on the town and make her way to the top by making friends in not-so-friendly places. As she finds herself in one sticky situation after another, she realizes that the secrets she is keeping for those putting money in her pockets are bound to eventually come out. But it’s her own secrets that will be her downfall. *Named reader POV. OFC X Richie. (Warnings: Eventual smut, sexual assault, language, adult themes, racial themes, violence. 18+, NSFW. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! This is not a dark fic, but Richie is toxic. Francis alone is a warning, so…)

Chapter 2

            Joey drove that car like he had stolen it, and we finally stopped flying down the streets many miles away from The Blue Moon.  He eventually pulled over onto the side of the road and the three of them fussed amongst themselves about what to do with me.  Truthfully, if they were going to turn me into a ghost, they would have done it already.  I half listened as they tossed ideas back and forth, mostly with Richie fussing about the other two men being stupid and how he didn’t want to dig another hole on the side of the highway. 

“Look, we ain’t gonna shoot her.” Richie argued.  I knew it.

“Then what the hell do you suggest? Since you’re such a genius.” Francis challenged him. 

“I’m the brains here, you son of a bitch.” He reminded Francis.  The tension between them was evident in that moment.  I looked out the window, which was beginning to fog up, and saw a diner across the street.

“If you’re not going to shoot me, can I at least get something to eat?” I asked them, boldly.  They all looked at me with shock.  “Or let me get something to eat and shoot me after, if that’s still on the table.” I was starving.  I always worked up an appetite at work. “Let’s be good to each other, remember?” I blinked innocently at them.  Well, maybe not totally innocently.  Whether it was me that convinced them, or the awkward silence in the car, I wasn’t entirely sure, but we ended up in the diner in a booth in front of the window. They smoked their cigarettes and refused to eat, meanwhile I ordered myself a slice of apple pie.  If I was going to die that night, I could at least enjoy some dessert beforehand.  I shoveled the sweet treat into my mouth and sipped on a cup of coffee, figuring it was going to be a long night.

“I still got my gun on you under the table, so don’t get too comfortable.” Francis warned me.

“I’m sure you do.” I huffed at him and dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “Question is, is there a bullet in that chamber meant for me.” I cut my eye at him and lifted my coffee mug to my lips.

“Tell me why we should let you go.” Francis grilled me.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I was simply minding my own goddamn business when I stumbled upon your little business transaction.”

“Business?”

“That’s what it was, right? Business.” I dug into my pie again.  I knew the trick with this man was to not let him see me flustered. “That’s how the Boyles do business, I thought.”

“Shh!” Joey shushed me.  I gave him an exasperated look.

“You don’t think you’re spotted that easily?  Everybody knows you guys.  Plus, look around, this place is kind of empty if you haven’t noticed.”

“You got a lot of sass about you for someone who should be worried about seeing the light of day.” Francis must have grown tired of my attitude. 

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You saw enough.”

“It’s a little fuzzy to me.” I responded and then looked at Richie who was sitting next to me, rubbing his hand along his jaw, as if he was thinking.

“You’re a liability.  A lose end.” Francis leaned forward and lowered his voice, trying to intimidate me.

“No, I’m just a stripper.” I shot my eyes back at him. “You can keep me quiet without killing me.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know, convince me.” I countered.

“Convince you?” he licked his lips, “You know what tends to do a lot of convincing?” and I heard the click of his gun from under the table.

“You can use me.” The words slipped past my lips before I even thought them through all the way.

“It’ll take a lot more than what’s between your legs.”

“No, not like that!” I quickly corrected him, glaring.  How dare he. “I’m no whore.” I sat up straighter and dropped my fork on my plate. “I could have told you about the Whitmore brothers being in that place, and the cops.  We got regulars.” I started. “The cops were there because of the Whitmores. The older one always leaves in a stupor without paying his tab and he makes a big scene when he’s kicked out. That and the fact that they’ve been trying to pass counterfeit at the place for months.” I took another sip of coffee, “That’s why I won’t dance for them.  And I’m guessing that’s why you all had business to do with them, right?” I turned to Richie again, “They pay you off with faulty funds?”  I watched Richie’s brown eyes shoot towards Francis and then back at me. I must have guessed right. “What was it? Booze? Guns?”

“What’s your name?” Richie asked me with his voice low and gravely.

“Honey.” And he snorted. “No really.”

“That ain’t your real name.” Francis jumped back in.

“It’s the only one I go by.”

“What are you trying to do, make a deal?” Joey piped back up.

“I’m trying to make it in this town just as much as everybody else, and I have to walk a lot further to get milk and bread, if you know what I mean.” I shot my answer at Joey and then sat back.  “Walking out of here with my life is a great bonus, yes.”

“You look to be doing pretty well.” Joey stated before he lit another cigarette.  Richie reached out his hand and grasped the white fur on my coat, feeling it with his fingers before snorting and returning his hand to his chin.

“Shit’s not even real.” He chuckled.

“Hey, I’m a dancer.  This is a costume.” I defended myself and shot another look at Joey who was clearly not that bright if he couldn’t decipher faux fur from the real deal. Or the stage jewelry. I turned and looked at Richie again. “Women who can afford the real deal don’t have to show skin to make cash.”

“So, what do you want, a job?” Richie took a big drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out from the side of his lips, avoiding blowing smoke on me.  The cloud danced into Joey’s face, but he ignored the discourtesy. “We let you live, and you work for me?”

“Not for free, of course.” I corrected him.

“Keeping your life isn’t payment enough?” Francis’s voice came again and I didn’t bother to shift my eyes from Richie to look at him.

“I’m tired of table scraps while men like you eat like kings.” My words came out more solemn than I would have liked, but I wanted him to understand how serious I was. “Nobody would suspect a dancer. I serve all types, the rich, the poor and the in between.  Who better to use as a lookout or a messenger than a woman who sits on laps for a living?” I kept my eyes on the leader of the sharks sitting in front of me, refusing to back down even while I lifted my cup to my lips again.  I saw the corner of his lips curl up into a small smile before he looked at both of his other men. 

“Whatcha thinking, Richie?” Joey inquired.

“We should run it by your father first.” Francis’s tone sounded cautious.

“I can make decisions just as much as my pops can.” Richie quickly fired a heated response back at him.

“It’s your day, birthday boy,” I started in a sultry voice, “You call the shots.”

            This was my chance, my chance to get out of that crowded, run-down townhouse I was sharing with five other dancers.  It was my chance to do more than get by, I wanted to get ahead.  I was already at a disadvantage, even upon arriving, but they didn’t need to know that much about me.  Whether it was right or wrong didn’t bother me.  I believed you needed to do a little wrong to live the right way anyway, especially in Chicago.  If I wanted to hold myself to better virtues, I wouldn’t be stripping for a living.  I watched Richie’s face for a more concrete reading, knowing he was thinking, but wanting to be more sure of what.  In the little time that I had gotten to know him, it was evident that he thought pretty high and mighty of himself, and if he had a chance to make a decision that would further push him into power, that’s obviously what he was going to do.  Any way he could demonstrate his power to those other two men at the table, especially Francis, I knew would be his move.  The question was, did he know I was able to read him that well, and did he know what was going on in my mind all the while?

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