Uuuuuuhhh, Prompt Requests Open!!! Im Going For Escort With Dylan Pleaseee!!!

uuuuuuhhh, prompt requests open!!! Im going for escort with Dylan pleaseee!!!

send me a PROMPT for a 'yearn for you' blurb -

[ ESCORT ] : sender accompanies the receiver home late at night, in order to ensure they’re safe.

"You didn't have to walk me to my hotel, you know. I'm sure I would've been fine on my own." You mentioned, hands deep in your pockets as two sets of feet walked side-by-side along the wintery streets of Manhattan. A deep chuckle sounded beside you easily bringing a smile to your face, before a large shoulder was nudged against yours.

"Perhaps, but in all honesty, I saw the opportunity to escort a pretty girl through possible dangerous streets, so I took it." He spoke pragmatically, allowing a contented sigh to slip past his lips, a fog of condensation appearing in front of his face. It had been just over five minutes since you were saying goodbye to your castmates; the late Friday evening spent at a local bar destressing about the week with a few drinks and a few laughs. It was then that Dylan decided to continue his night by your side, insistent in walking you to your hotel as his New York apartment was only a little further along.

The thought brought a smile to your own face, accompanied by a gentle shiver of the growing cold atmosphere. Dylan caught your movement out the corner of his eye. With a forced clearing of his throat and nervous stretch of his fingers, the man turned to you, the whisky shade of his eyes waring you instantly, "You cold? Get under my arm." You gazed across to his now held-out arm, a further invitation to share his body heat as you cuddled into his side.

You nodded your head once before looking down, trying to hide the growing crimson blush gathering on your cheeks. Any form of hesitancy melted away as you moved closer to him; Dylan almost immediately tugging your smaller frame flush against his own, the comfort becoming enough for you to place your head against his chest as his large arm dropped to your shoulders. Molding into his side allowed you to feel safe from the impending vexatiousness of the cold snowflakes landing on your cheeks; the known danger of late night Manhattan streets that came a close second now fading away.

"You can be such a sap when you want to be." You spoke, the gentle tone of your voice posing as a welcomed interruption to your comfortable silence. Fingers tapped against your shoulder and his arm remained weighted, the small act of affection provoking a quirk of your lips and a bashful smile to appear between your continuously growing blush. You could feel his chest shake with laughter under your cheek before your threaded your hand in between the tapping fingers, "But it's sweet, you're sweet. I have a feeling you already know that though."

"Does it make me a sap to say that you're the one who makes me sweet?" Dylan retorted, his voice playfully nonchalant. The spark between you both was obvious; seen in the way you would tease each other, eventually ending with a severe case of flirtation and giddy happiness. Being in his arms even now was a regular occurrence - but it never went past the intimacy of your friendship - nervousness always standing in the way. His words resonated in your mind as you reciprocated his earlier laugh, nudging him as much as you could with your shoulder.

It was only mere minutes before your feet shuffled to a stop outside of your hotel room; Dylan was unwilling to let you go from the moment you left the city streets, to where he nuzzled his nose into your snowflake decorated hair in the elevator. Your eyes bored into his whisky-shade pair, your teeth absentmindedly holding your bottom lip captured. You glanced over to your unlocked door before back to the taller man, his facial features still contorted in a drunken-like haze of contentment.

You cleared your throat, "Thank you for walking me home... did you, I mean - did you want to come in? I don't think I'm ready for you to go just yet."

Dylan released a breathless sigh; as if he was holding his breath in anticipation, as if he was waiting for you to ask. The over-exaggerated nod of his head was an indication that he, too, wasn't ready to leave. His voice dropped, raspiness tickling the ends of his words, "I'm up for anything if it means staying by your side."

Look me in the eye and try to tell me this: “Acting tough will not make it hurt any less, you know this, yes?” isn't utterly perfect for cowboy!Mitch 😍 Like whether it's him or reader who got hurt (and we both know they're equally foolhardy lmao)

send me a PROMPT for a 'new muse' blurb ~

Notes : it's TOO perfect for him! ugh cowboy mitch gets to meeee.

"ACTING TOUGH WILL NOT MAKE IT HURT ANY LESS, YOU KNOW THIS, YES?" | COWBOY!MITCH

Squinted amber hues were met with a quirked brow as you looked pointedly toward the man, your words provoking a loud scoff from the hoarseness that gathered in his throat. Mitch couldn't help but think utter ridiculousness of your sentiment - not that he didn't agree with its truthfulness, but rather so, he couldn't afford to fall short of his resilient and gritty character. Being the town's Deputy meant that Mitch needed to be strong, doughty, indestructible. He did have to act tough. His eyes slowly drifted down to your form as you pressed a damp cloth against his exposed side, sopping up remnants of blood that surrounded his freshly sliced wound. He winced, and you noticed.

"It's just a scratch." His voice was gravelly as he attempted to hide the pain that spiked his tone, choosing to immediately shut his mouth and grind his teeth as an alternative expression of pain. He shifted uncomfortably on the rickety barstool when you pressed further against the wound, the scraping of metal on metal echoing loudly amongst the dead atmosphere of the Saloon, only seen possible past closing time. He growled under his breath before hearing a quiet snicker, the curling lips of a smirk present between your cheeks only indicating that you did it on purpose.

"A scratch wouldn't have hurt that bad." You said, glancing up to the man when you felt his focus boring into you. Usually, he was the one possessing the over-protective trait; quick to swoop you out of harm's way and dictate the millions of consequences that would come from your rowdiness. Mitch was always there to catch you if you fell, and you even began to wonder whether he purposely followed you around just in case you found yourself in yet another troublesome situation. Regardless of his staunchness, it was incredibly endearing. "And I certainly don't think that a stab to the side counts nearly as close as a scratch, mind you. You're lucky you're alive, Deputy."

"Y/N, we've been over this-" He began, sucking in a sharp breath as you finished cleaning the open gash. He shook his head, breath releasing slowly as his voice dropped low, "You can call me Mitch."

You sounded a scoff, a resonant of puerility that was incredibly mocking "Oh, I'm well aware. But would calling you by your name get me the same reaction as it would calling you by your title? I think not." Legs pushed you upright as you gathered the red-stained rags, hands quick to ball them up as they were thrown haphazardly into an empty wooden barrel, and Mitch jested a groan at your sentiment whilst teeth sunk to his lip. Once again, you could sense the durability of his gaze meandering over your movements, watching as you continued to patch up the poor man after his unlucky confrontation with a common thief.

It was now easier to see the small smile that tugged between your cheeks as you spun on your heel toward him, a sewing needle and spool pin grasped lightly as you fiddled with them between hesitant fingers. You breathed out lightly before crouching back to Mitch's side, "What can I say, there's just something about gettin' under your skin there, that brings a little light to my days."

He was still toying at his lip; the need to release it quickly became apparent as it began to grow numb under its clamp, soon it would draw blood and he was sure you would reprimand him for yet another reddened wound. He exhaled heavily, an intent to steady his breathing as he awaited the next step of your aid and the inevitable misery to follow. It wasn't until he looked back down to your willingness to patch him up that Mitch started to settle into the stool, watching as you thread your needle, "You're a tease, darlin', ya know that? I'll have you saying my name one o' these days, maybe even screaming it if I'm lucky."

You didn't need to look at the man to know that his eye dropped into a low wink, the tone of his voice suggesting playfulness and rowdy jest. He liked to wind you up, that's why you wound him right the hell back. With a gentle head shake, you lifted your eyes until they met his caramel swirls that you've gotten to know so well, your needle now held high in the air with a threatening pose, "Keep talking sweet like that, and I'll be the one makin' you scream for all the wrong reasons, Cowboy."

It was hidden, only slightly by the angle he sat at whilst his elbow perched upon the bartop, when Mitch gulped down at the intimidation that you wore so damn well. He even thought that if he wasn't so alert in the moment, then a slight moan of appreciative attraction would've slipped so nonchalantly from him. He was quick to remain silent after that, but more so to retain concentration as he admired your quick handiwork.

"Okay-" You began, taking a deep breath to balance yourself. The skirt you wore was spread around your body as you kneeled on the ground, a near-perfect circle framing you as you mentally prepared yourself for the upcoming round of Mitch's pain. You held up a leather belt, folded over each other exactly four times before handing it to Mitch and pointing at your mouth. He immediately understood, teeth clamping around the material to prevent his future growls and screams from echoing through your night-filled sleepy town.

"Now, I'm no doctor, but I've seen this procedure more times than I could count on one hand. Do you trust me.. Mitch?"

Mitch nodded, instantly. Cheeks reddening at the use of his name, however, the leather prevented him from any further commentary. He saw your grin, and knew, just knew, that you calculated your words perfectly in time with his inability to talk.

Mitch was so incredibly taken by you.

One last draw of breath, and you smiled wider, "Let's finish patching you up."

💀 with stiles pls!

send me an emoji and dylan character for a headcanon ~

💀 : An injury headcanon

Stiles was incredibly accident-prone. Whether it was supernatural bound or a simple trip up the stairs, the boy would always be on your doorstep with a sheepish grin that held all of the boyish glee he could muster up. He never wanted to show you the pain that itched so intensely at his skin and tugged at his muscles - so, he continued to smile, even when blood pooled by his feet. One time, in particular, you dragged him profusely into the bathroom the moment you saw red trickles drip from the cut in his hairline. Your voice was urgent, but Stiles remained calm - he always remained calm. It wasn't until your hand began to tremble as it pressed to his moistened red wound that Stiles' nonchalant facade began to fall. He never wanted to worry you, but he didn't trust anyone more to look after his scratched-up body. "What if you don't come back to me next time, Stiles?" It wasn't until he realised that his strange form of protection from his pain, was only the cause of your incredulous hurting. His eyes, finally, pricking with tears, "Nothing will keep me away from you."

Love your writings!! Can you write something with airport from the kiss prompts please??

send me a PROMPT for a 'kiss me' blurb -

[ AIRPORT ] : after realizing their feelings for the receiver, sender sprints through an airport to kiss them before their flight departs. [DYLAN]

Curses of all sorts slipped from your lips as you dodged multitudes of people and their shadowing suitcases. It was an airport, of course it would be beyond crowded, however you still found yourself frustrated and surprised at how difficult it was to get from one side to the other. Time would have been kinder and your feet would have carried you quicker if you didn't have to stop and purchase a ticket to Quebec. You received odd looks when the only luggage you carried was a handbag, but the looks only increased in curiosity at the expression of worry and hastiness driving your sprinting movements. Breathing normally became a thing of the past - but it was more due to the fact that the man, who you pretty sure you love, was about to board a plane and disappear from your life for the next four months. He was going to leave you behind without knowing that you loved him too.

When you reached the screening phase of your Airport journey, you tried your utmost hardest to not let your anxiety seep through. It became difficult to cease the impatient tapping of your foot and unnecessary amounting of blinking; afterall, the last thing you needed was to be pulled aside and questioned for suspicious behaviour. The thoughts running through your mind was enough to make the guard in front of you snap their fingers, your eyes refocusing on the lady waiting for your passport to be shown - you didn't even remember moving onto customs. You were physically getting closer to your destination, but he still felt miles away. The lady spoke again after your passport was presented, "So, what's got you going to Canada today?"

You smiled sweetly as his image flickered in your mind, a soft rose blush tickling your cheeks and nose. You cleared your throat, "A guy. I mean, he's here, waiting for his flight. I have to see him before he leaves... gotta tell him something." The lady nodded, surprisingly in a knowing way. She asked you if this was a movie cliche and you instantly laughed at the unbelievable accuracy. Your life didn't feel like a romantic comedy, however, as the anxiety of Dylan thinking that you didn't feel the same way was more like life or death as your stomach twisted in knots. She eventually let you pass and you were suddenly jogging. Running. Sprinting. The opportunity to see him again got closer by each passing second, the gates to other waiting areas flying past you before you set sight on the one you needed. You managed a deep breath through your panting, but didn't slow down.

Dylan was seated in the back corner of the room, his familiar black cap swung backward and his pillow sitting upon his restless knees. You couldn't figure out how he was feeling as his usual readable self was hidden away. You were lucky that he was alone in bittersweet solace and not interrupted by excitable fans. Just being able to see the man allowed you to slow to a steady walk, eventually stopping a few feet away from him. You drew another deep breath, your bag slipping from your arm and dropping to the floor with a loud thump. He stirred but didn't look your way. You beamed brightly with curled fists by your side and wide hopeful eyes, your voice shaky but steady enough to express how you felt, "I love you too."

Dylan's eyebrows furrowed, his body remaining still as the cogs turned in his mind, wondering if your voice was real or just a figment of his imagination. Curiosity got the best of the man as he finally looked up and toward you. His jaw dropped slightly, eyes blinking in dubiety to determine if you were actually standing in front of him. He stood from his position and walked to you, his frame towering over your own, prompting you to lean back to look up at him. Dylan's eyes were squinted and voice hardly about a whisper, "Say it again."

"I love you. I love you too, Dylan."

The chuckle that escaped him was a sound that you could keep on replay, the joyous sound accompanying the growing grin between his cheeks. His large hands lifted from his sides and held your jaw oh-so-gently before he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. The man bit his lip and hummed, "Did you just 'Casablanca' me?". The following nod of your head and tugging of your bottom lip as enough for him to release a whole-hearted laugh, his chest rumbling with happiness and vibrating against your own. His lips, this time, landed perfectly on your own pair before connecting with strength.

He didn't allow you to breathe - he didn't want you to, unless it was just of him. The setting was lost to you both as your hands dragged up his back and hooked onto his shoulders, anchoring yourself against him before your knees inevitably went weak. His tongue was dangerous as it pushed through your lips and took ownership of the other side, eliciting a gentle moan to gather in your throat. Wth now turned heads, the new angle offered to you was a blessing, emotion driving your senses crazy until you could devour him right there and then.

You almost missed the instructions on the loudspeaker that instructed passengers to board the plane, your hands now pulling back and pushing Dylan away slightly. You were absolutely breathless, "You gotta go."

He shook his head in disagreement, "No-"

"Don't you dare stay here and miss out on the filming opportunity of a lifetime. I would never forgive myself."

Dylan whined, evident conflict of his head and heart settling behind his eyes. His foot tapped anxiously on the tile flooring as both of your gazes followed the departing passengers; only a few, including yourselves, remained. "Then come with me. You've got a ticket. Just come with me, sweetheart."

You didn't need to think through your answer. "Okay."

Revelations || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary : Remembering Stiles leads to remembering your hidden feelings for him. [REQUESTED]

Words : 5.4k

Warnings : smut , oral, angst, not proof read

Notes : this is my first published smut on this blog, fingers crossed! PLEASE BE KIND!!!

The corners of your eyes squinted harshly as you screwed them tight, your lips somewhat parted, chest heaving with deep and sharp intakes of breaths. Your body was stuck between a battle of writhing with pleasure and completely freezing with the upcoming climax - this is what he did to you. It was indescribable how euphoric this moment was, even the roughest and fastest of actions still managing to appear slow as you savoured every touch and sound. Heat travelled along your skin in usison with the prickling goosebumps he gave you and suddenly everything felt like the ultimate out of body experience. You were too dazed to feel your fingertips dragging down his back or to feel the thin layer of sweat bead over your skin, pursed lips pressing lazily to his shoulder. Your voice was caught in your throat even though you desired to scream out as your bodies thrusted as one unit along a blue and black plaid bed sheet, legs tangled, and hands now joined and held over your head. You couldn’t see his eyes or the way your joint pleasure contorted his facial features due to his face being deeply buried in the crook of your own shoulder, teeth and tongue harassing your collarbone.

Your vision slowly blurred, prompting a sudden sharp pain to claim home behind your eyes.

The body wrapped around yours stayed in place, even when you tried to voice that something was wrong. He couldn’t hear you. Your hands and arms could no longer move; your legs losing feeling altogether. All previous sensations of pleasure had dissipated as anxiousness set it and took complete ownership. The thumping reverberations of your racing heart ricocheted through your chest and onto the mattress underneath, the rate increasing the more you tried to wiggle free. It was as if your body didn’t want you to leave - as if it wanted you to stay and see something, hear something, remember something. It wasn’t until a barely audible whisper regained your focus, hot breath tickling your left ear, an ‘I love you’ echoing through every part of you. The reiteration of blood coursing through your veins and loud beats of your heart stopped within seconds before you were encased in utter silence. Hearing a pin drop would surely shatter the intensity of this silent sound barrier. The head laying on your shoulder lifted with slow pace, the first thing you notice being the deep caramel tone of his irises - the familiar caramel tone. The brown set of eyes glanced to your lips and back up to match your focus. The slightly wet and pink swell of his lips cocked into a truly happy smile, the grin sitting between freckle and mole splattered cheeks and a soft rose hue blushing along his pale complexion. The boy spoke again, “Remember, I love you. Remember, Y/N… I love you.”

You squinted and tilted to the side, his words resonating deep within you as another sharp pain spiked within your head. Those four words continued to echo and grew louder and louder with each passing second until all you could hear was ‘remember I love you’ on agonising replay. Your eyes squeezed closed as you silently begged for it to stop, but as quick as it came, like a rubber-band pulled too far - you snapped.

“Stiles!”

----------

The sound of your breathless panting bounced off every surface of your bedroom, your body now lifted into a completely upright position, your handheld over the hammering of your racing heart. The cool draft entering from your open bedroom window made you shiver as the chilled air came in contact with the salty droplets of sweat staining your clothing and decorating the exposed skin. You dared to look beside you and notice that you were alone in your bed and that you definitely weren’t sleeping on blue plaid sheets. If your knowledge on the Supernatural didn’t exist, then you would consider this an awful case of Nightmares - but you knew better, unfortunately. This was because of the Ghost Riders. This was you finally remembering him. Stiles. Your eyes widened substantially with haste as you reached for your phone, immediately pulling out the charging cord and tapping on Scott’s caller I.D. Your legs swung over the edge of your bed and began to make nervous shaky movements, rocking with anticipation. It nearly rang out before you heard a gruff voice grumble into the receiver, evident sleepiness coaxing his inaudible words. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Scott.” You said sternly, hoping that he would gain more consciousness. “Scott, this is important… Scott, wake the hell up!”

You heard stirring on the opposite end of the line. “I’m up, I’m awake, what?! Y/N, what’s wrong?” He replied, now sounding all kinds of worried.

“I remember him… Stiles, I remember him.” You spoke slowly, still trying to wrap your head around the string of events that led you to this conversation with one of your best friends. You held your bottom lip between your teeth as your spare hand combed through your hair, tugging nervously through the ends. You and your friends had spent weeks trying to put a name to the boy that none of you seemed to know of - a repercussion of the Ghost Rider’s hunt. Slowly, the puzzle pieces began to slide together, but within your still quaking hands, you held the ultimate answer. You cleared your throat, “Scott? You still there?”

Rustling was all that you could hear before a brief loud response from Scott provoked you to pull the phone back, “Yeah, I’m just getting dressed. I think… I think I remember him too, kinda. The night I got bit in the Preserve, I think he was there with me. It was his idea to go there. I remember Sheriff saying his name when I hid behind that log.” You could have sworn he dropped the phone next as a loud clang caused you to pull away again, Scott’s whispered voice now cursing the closer he seemed to get to it. “I’ll be there in five.”

“Scott, wait…” Your voice jarred, quick to slip out before he could hang up. The soft background noise alerted you that he was waiting for you to continue, “I think it’s more than just remembering him. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

Scott sighed, “Then we better get him back as soon as possible”.

----------

Being able to just see Stiles once more was enough for your mind to start wandering. He was standing on the other side of your friends with that damn bat in tow, eyes boring into yours, face softening before you were suddenly wrapped within his arms. The embrace you two shared was the tipping point for your uncontrolled river of tears - and that’s when you knew that after all of this sneaking around and sex with no strings attached, you were most definitely in love with Stiles Stilinski. You had been sitting with this revelation for a couple of hours now, your body currently perched on the side of his bed with knees pulled to your chest. The lamp behind you cascaded your shadow against the wall and the only sounds you could hear were from the emotional reunion downstairs between father and son. You weren’t able to make out what words were spoken, not that you were purposely listening, but the happy tone and muffled sobs were enough to make you smile at a reconnected relationship. You could only hope that the wants and fears pouring from their hearts only matched the heartfelt desires you had to share with him. Your eyes were trained on the photo frames littering his bedside table, but of course, you were mostly drawn to the one depicting two overly-joyous teenagers. Your legs hung over his arms as you were wrapped around his back, hands joined as they fell over his shoulders. He had a tight grip on you that day, constantly reassuring you that he wouldn’t let you drop. Your smiles were both wide and so immensely genuine - you could only hope that after your confession of true feelings that the two of you would continue with a future that shone as bright and happy as that photograph.

Your thoughts were so deep that you didn’t hear Stiles retreat back up the stairs and close the door behind him. He watched you distinctively as he toed off his shoes and allowed his jacket to slip from his arms, falling by his feet. He didn’t want to speak yet, not whilst he was watching your frame as you sat on his bed, feeling content as he remembered just how much he missed seeing you in his room. The corners of his lips lifted into a smirk as you began to absentmindedly smile at the framed photos, daring to reach out and drag a single fingertip over what he figured to be the capture of the two of you. Stiles finally cleared his throat, his facial features softening as he remained looking at you. His eyes by now were slightly pink and puffy from crying with his father, but hiding his vulnerability from you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

Stiles bit his lip with a raspy voice, “I, uh, said something to you… before they took me. It’s really important that you remember what I said, Y/N.”

Your eyelashes danced against the top of your cheek, head dropping into a slow nod. Of course, you knew what he was talking about; how could you not? The collection of words had been on replay in your mind ever since you began to regain memories of what made Stiles special to you. Never once did you break eye contact with the emotional boy standing on the other side of the room. The moment you were waiting for was getting closer - pouring every ounce of your feelings out in the open - however, as Stiles neared, your stomach swarmed with the flittering of butterflies. The tone of your voice was nearly inaudible as you spoke, head falling into a slight tilt to accompany the small quirk of your lips, “Remember I love you.”

The wide toothy grin that you found so enticing was now present, the corners of his eyes crinkling in pure happiness. Stiles continued to take steps toward his bed until he could reach out to tuck stray hairs behind your ear. The boy cleared his throat, “I need you to know that what I said… what I feel precedes any of this Ghost Rider bullshit. That when I said it, I meant it with every single cell in my body. It's cliche as all hell, but life is too short to not take a chance. Especially with the way we live. So if I'm gonna do this, then I'm gonna have to do it now before it's too late.” Stiles allowed his fingers and knuckles to drag over your cheeks before he cupped them with such fragility, the warm whisky tone of his eyes glistening as they bore into yours. He took a deep breath, still wearing that damn smile, “I love you, Y/N. This isn’t about the sex, nor is it about the sneaking around and the late-night fun. This is about how I truly feel about you. And fuck, had I not been an idiot in the first place and just told you instead of mindlessly getting into bed with you, then you’d know that you had always been special to me. Our whole lives and friendship… it was always meant to be us. Even if it had to happen this way. All that I ask from you is that you can look me in the eye and say you feel the exact same fucking way. That’s all I need. Just say it back… please.”

The universe came crashing around you all at once - you felt like every lost emotion or declaration of love finally caught up with you, colliding into a flashing display of serendipity, and it made you feel so goddamn good. It was as if you could finally take a deep breath of fresh air and breathe, that all of the birds were singing again and the sun had the strength to shine through the grey clouds that dulled your most recent days. Stiles made you feel at peace. You decided to not hold back the gathering tears that threatened to spill over your lashes, embracing the way he made you feel such emotion. Hands of your own slid up his arms and settled over the hold he still had on your cheeks, making you beam brightly at him as his thumbs dragged over your cheekbone. You could tell by the soft contortion of his features that he understood your reciprocation, but the flicking of his eyes between your lips and your own gaze only indicated that he still needed to hear those words before any further move was made.

You absentmindedly licked your trembling lips, a small giggle escaping you when his thumb brushed over their plumpness to stop their shaky movements. You carefully kissed the thumb, sighing in content, “I love you, Stiles Stilinski. I will always love you.”

Stiles moved quickly as you were tugged against him, chests meeting as part of a soft embrace. The close proximity that you were oh-so used to felt different for once - this wasn’t just lust brewing between you both, but something so much more emotional, much more pure and true. Stiles’ upturned nose brushed over yours, nudging it with utter delicacy as pursed lips chased your supple pair. You were still holding your hands over his as you squeezed, an indication for him to finally make his move and prove just how much he loves you. Stiles closed the gap between you both with a gentle press of his lips, relishing in the warmth of your sweet flavor, just long enough for him to inhale your breath. He didn’t want to rush like he usually would, choosing to take his time so that he could remember the way you blossomed under his touch and taste like a flower entering Spring. Your hands fell to his shoulders before slipping over them, gathering at his back as they hung in bliss. It was you who made the next move as you pushed your tongue against his clenched teeth to roughen the kiss, the pent-up feelings of losing Stiles and gaining him back now poured into every swerve your tongue made against his. It was electric when your heads turned to better the angle; only proven by the deep groan that pushed through Stiles’ mouth, allowing you to swallow his satisfaction and growing libido.

He wrapped an arm around your waist before expertly lifting you from your standing position, his body closing over yours as he laid you down on his bed. Never once did he break the union between your lips until he felt your fingertips dance along his abdomen, desperation evident when they tangled in the hem of his t-shirt. He chuckled against your lips as he pulled back, his eyes glistening at the whine you made when his warmth temporarily left you. Stiles was soon to replace your sweet taste with his bottom teeth when he knelt back, his body sitting up straight with an arm thrown behind his back. Slowly, he tugged at the back collar of his shirt, the material thrown haphazardly across the room. It was as if second nature when your nails immediately scraped gently down his exposed chest, dragging through the prominent strips of dark chest hair and trail leading down into his jeans. Stiles shuddered from the contact, but couldn’t keep his ever-growing smile of admiration away from between his cheeks.

Permission wasn’t needed when your shirt was next, its location unknown when it too was tossed over Stiles’ shoulder with little to no care. He paused to have a look at you as you lay beneath him; your hair splayed across his bedsheets and chest already heaving from the building anticipation. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful you looked when you were vulnerable to him. Stiles was encased around your frame within mere seconds, a large hand splayed against your cheek as the other fiddled with the button on your jeans, refusing to pull away until it was popped and ready for him to tug down your legs. You lifted your hips for easy access, your knees soon pulled apart by Stiles. He sat between your thighs with a dazed look in his honey eyes, the small tug of a smirk grazing the corners of his mouth. He wanted you to feel good as his hands slid down from your knees and over your thighs, fingers daring to slip under the band of your underwear. The light shudders you released was indication enough that you wanted this as much as he did.

A small moan gathered in your throat when you were hit by cool air, the wet slick of your lower lips now exposed as Stiles removed the thin piece of fabric covering you. He wasn’t shy as a finger dragged down your centre - after the many times you both shared together already, he knew his way around your body, but even then he is still always amazed by how intensely you react to his touch. Your head lulled back in serenity when Stiles rubbed his thumb in circles over your clit, the sensitive nub eliciting more moans and soft words of encouragement to slip past your lips as if you were in a drunken haze. His movements increased in pace when his lengthy pointer finger was pushed inside you, your muscles tightening at the addition of his digit. He thrust it with steady pacing and accompanied it with the pulsating muscle of his tongue flicking at your clit.

Stiles skilfully alternated between sucking and licking, harassing your most sensitive area until his finger curled in order to scrape against that one special spot inside you. You nearly screamed when he found it, a second finger entering to help pay close attention to the rough patch that made you want to cry out in euphoria. You could feel his lips pull up into a smile when you sharply groaned at the jubilant sensation of your upcoming climax, your thighs unwillingly squeezing around Stiles’ head, stipulating your need for him to fasten his actions so you can experience that much-awaited bust of fireworks behind your eyes. Curses fell as fingers grasped the sheets beneath you before you suddenly lifted your hips from the mattress and released a nearly pornographic moan from reaching your high. Stiles didn’t stop as he helped you ride out your climactic moment, fingers continuing to thrust but his lips now sucking gently at your hip bones. Your body trembled immensely, and you could’ve sworn that you would feel the afterglow for at least a week. With that thought, you sunk, completely disoriented from the best oral he had ever given you. You could tell from his intensity that he definitely meant it when he confessed that he was in love.

Stiles couldn’t help the cocky smile he provided or the raspy chuckle, his tongue casually darting out to lick away the residue of your taste gathered on his lips. He managed to catch eye contact as you willingly looked over to him, “You good? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cum that hard before.” He mused, his ego now boosted with a quirk of his eyebrow pointed toward you. Stiles bit down on his bottom lip and tugged at it with a satisfying growl, his body lowering over yours once again until he was able to nip at your exposed left shoulder.

“You been holding out on me then, Stilinski?” You retorted, remaining breathless when his calloused fingers began to pull down your bra strap, swollen and warm lips dragging down your arm. He sounded a genuine laugh when he repeated his gentle movements on the other side. You tipped his head back with a single finger, drunken and affectionate caramel eyes ogling back at you when your fingers unclasped the last layer of material covering your chest, your bra thrown across Stiles’ bedroom. Stiles cursed under his breath, his following moan doused with erotic tones as he took an exposed peak in between his lips. Knowing that you were completely naked under his writing form coursed fire in his veins. It was involuntary when he began to slowly grind his clothed length along the inside of your thigh, the friction from his jeans leaving behind a red heated mark on your skin.

Stiles elegantly rotated between your breasts, his hand cupping and tweaking at the side without his tongue’s attention. By now, your body was squirming with pleasure, and you surely could feel the urgency of Stiles’ eager member twitch through the rough denim fabric. You reached down to tug at the band of his jeans, signaling to Stiles that you wanted more. He pulled back to sport his even puffier lips, their soft complexion making the boy look so goddamn innocent - of course, in reality, you knew just what those deadly lips could do. He positioned himself back on his knees before stepping away from his bed, maintaining sensual eye contact as he undid and removed his pants. The moment the denim was pulled past his thighs, he released a noise of utter satisfaction, his member freed from its toughest confinement. Your eyes were curious when they glanced down to his groin, your breath hitching at the evident wet patch caused by yearning precum. You found happiness in knowing that you helped do that to him.

He made it painfully obvious that he was checking out your heaving, desperate body as he reached to his bedside table, his hand fiddling aimlessly around the drawer until he pulled out a crinkling foil packet. The only rule Stiles ever had during sex was that he wanted to keep it safe - something about how he could barely look after his eighteen-year-old self, so how would he look after a baby? His willingness to protect you both always made you smile without fault. He carefully slid the corner of the packet between his teeth in order to pull down his trunks; Stiles’ shoulders deflated with bliss when he was finally free and exposed to you. His dick wasn’t too large, but the perfect size to satisfy you over and over again. Like his arms, he had veins running along the girth, a prominent one up the underside that always made him weak to the touch. It wouldn’t be completely outlandish to even suggest that it was his sexual Achilles heel - and your greatest weapon to get just what you wanted.

You were broken from your mouth-watering stare as the sound of ripping foil caught your attention. Stiles’ inflamed and sensitive tip was soon spread with his precum before he jerked himself a few times, the condom in his other hand then rolling down his length with expertise. Salacious groans pushed past his lips when he touched himself, preparing his body to gratify yours. His eyes had squeezed shut from the attention he gave himself, only to see your finger beckoning him closer when he returned his focus to you. Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, launching himself across the bedding until his hands lay flat beside your head and his nose nuzzled against yours. Your face scrunched up out of reflex and you giggled sweetly at his affectionate action. With his forehead dropped and pressing to yours, the boy took a deep contented breath, his tone settled to a whisper, “I love you, so much. I’m never gonna stop saying it. You’re everything to me, you are my everything. I truly, madly, deeply love you.”

He ignited a fire within you - one that would burn for as long as he remains by your side to offer you a promise of forever love. It was seen in the way you cupped his cheeks and left a fiery path where your fingertips danced, and how you lent up into the boy and left him with a hot union of your lips as you slid your tongue against his. Everything about him left you heated; and you never wanted to cool down. As you pulled back from his lips, still brushing over his with the slightest of grazes, you smiled. Your nose copied his earlier action as you nuzzled Stiles, even matching his quiet tone, “I love you too, and I will for as long as I live and breathe, Stiles. You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

It was the confirmation he needed to position himself against your still dripping entrance, the tip dragging helplessly over your sensitive bundle and causing small tremors of your body in its wake. Stiles gave you a small nod before one of his hands linked with yours, still sitting beside your head, and the other helping to guide his dick into your awaiting core. You firmly squeezed his fingers, Stiles reciprocating the ferocity as he pushed through the tightness of your walls, carnal sounds of mild pain and pleasure harmonizing between you both until he was completely bottomed out. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took, taking his time to allow you both to adjust to the feeling of each other. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart thump against your own chest, provoking you to place your spare hand over the beating muscle as a silent way to reassure him - of what, you weren’t too sure, but he instantly responded with a kiss to your forehead and smiling lips pressed to your hairline. You were ready for him to continue, your voice cracking in your throat from the feeling of his length filling you, “Move, Stiles.” You signaled, hips already reaching for his until he managed a mild chuckle, an obscene playful remark about you being ‘needy’ muttered under his breath.

All it took was a couple of thrusts for you to throw your head back, Stiles attempting to tease you by pulling out all the way and slamming himself back into you with the utmost passion and desire to make you feel good. You easily fell victim to his game and whined his name constantly between mumbles of curse words and explicit groans. He repositioned himself back on his knees, hands sliding down your chest and over your breasts at a painfully slow pace before settling on your hips. He lifted them to allow for a new angle and thrust mercilessly into you. Stiles didn’t hold back - he didn’t want to, frankly, every emotion that built up within him since he was taken was now portrayed in the strong feelings he felt for you. He has had sex with you before, multiple times, but this moment… this was special, and he wanted you to know just how serious and dedicated he was to loving you properly. Between his panting, Stiles managed to offer you words of encouragement, proud to tell you that you were the epitome of beauty and that you felt so amazing around his pulsating member. By now, you could feel a pull in your lower abdomen and tears prick at your eyes - silent alerts that you were close once again to climatic euphoria.

With shaky arms you pushed yourself from the mattress and secured them around his neck, chests now flushed once more and your legs straddling Stiles’ lap. He pushed out an animalistic growl that had settled in his throat, his own arms wrapped around your frame and holding you against him for dear life, “Fuck, baby…” His voice was husky, reveling in the new position that allowed him to reach that special spot within you for the second time tonight. You were helpless as your forehead dropped to his shoulder, the beaded sweat layering his skin leaving spots of warmth against your own. You tried to keep up his pace by meeting his hips, only to be briefly distracted by the sweet nothings he continuously poured into your ears. If you could ever describe the word perfect, it would be this moment - entangled with the boy you love, your body ignited by passion and pleasure, and his calming sweet words echoing in your ears.

Your small hands laid flat against Stiles’ chest before you pushed him back, his body now lying on the bed, head just missing the edge whilst your movements take control to finish you both off. He flashed a large grin as he peered up to you, the corners of his eyes crinkled in pure happiness and admiration. He loved how you knew his favorite position, even more so when you show your small moments of dominance. Your hands remained pressed against the heaving of his chest as you bounded your hips, eyes rolling back into your head with a slightly agape mouth. You were close to the finish line; the band in your abdomen continuously pulling, waiting for the final snap. You could tell that Stiles was close too as his thrusts became slightly sloppy, however, it only made him pick up the pace even more. You circled your hips, gyrating at every possible angle as you sunk up and down on his dick, a loud moan echoing off the walls - one that if the Sheriff had still remained downstairs, he would definitely hear it.

The tears that had settled on your lash line finally spilled over, only a couple of drops rolling down your cheeks. Stiles reached up and gathered them on his thumbs, his hoarse tone cooing at your emotional build-up, “You’re doing so good, baby, so good. Nearly there.”

“I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart, just let go.” Stiles whispered, pulling himself forward to capture your lips within his own. You sucked the breath out of him as you finally reached your release, your body trembling in Stiles’ arms, erupting into metaphorical fireworks. Stars flashed behind your blacked-out eyes and you had never felt so goddamn loved in your entire life. You tried to maintain bounces that were easily taken over by Stiles’ thrusts, helping you ride out your high as he too was nearing his edge of glory. You mindlessly said that you loved him, over and over again into his ear until he filled the rubber pocket around his well-worked girth. Open mouth pants and heavy breathing flashed over your sweaty shoulder, soon to be replaced by sloppy wet kisses. You allowed your hands to rub delicately at his back to calm him down, and he thanked you quietly with murmurs against your skin.

“Ya know…” Stiles began, his upturned nose tracing your collarbone, “As fucking cheesy as it sounds, now I know why they call it making love, cause that was… that was somethin’ else entirely.”

With a nodded head, you lifted his chin with your finger to show him just how brightly you were beaming, the afterglow making him see you in such an angelic light. “It was absolutely something else, it was deadset fucking amazing. Like, seriously, Stiles, where have you been hiding that?” Your question was rhetorical as you lent down to him, placing a chaste peck to the corner of his mouth where his lips met, but he still answered anyway.

“It was just waiting for the right time, I s’pose.” His answer was followed by a kiss of his own, settling on the tip of your nose before pressing to your forehead and each of your cheeks. With hooded eyes he pulled back, an expression of endearment contorting his smile. Stiles had finally found his peace, even amongst the dangers and chaos of the supernatural world. He had someone to ground him and always pull him back from the darkness; he had something worth fighting for, and you had a love that could never leave you - no matter how hard anybody tried to take it away from you.

Oh oh now I get it!! Well can I request the prompt “adjust”?

send me a PROMPT for a 'yearn for you' blurb -

[ ADJUST ] : sender adjusts an item of clothing or jewelry that the receiver is wearing, resulting in them being very close together. (w/ DYLAN)

You couldn't help the small laugh that fell from your lips as you watched Dylan scrunch his nose in annoyance from across the room. Although he looked immensely handsome when decked out in a full suit and tie, he still found it constricting and proper. What he would give to swap out his sleek black wingtips for his pink worn Adidas and his deep grey suit jacket for his oversized hooded jumper. He attended red carpet events because he was always proud of the films he partook in and he wanted desperately to show his support for the cast and crew involved - that didn't mean that he always agreed with the dress code, however.

As per usual, you were his date to the latest film premiere, which gave you the opportunity to dress up. Your temporary stylist finished pinning back your now curled hair, bouncy strands falling down to frame your face. You found yourself very fortunate to experience these moments of luxury, which is why you always expressed your gratitude to those involved. You faced the main sitting area of your hotel room, a wide grin present between your cheeks, eyes trained on Dylan as he shrugged on his jacket. His tie hung casually around his neck as he turned to face you, the sound of your clicking heels easily alerting him to your presence.

He released an evident sigh of contentedness, eyes not shy as they trailed down the flowing red dress you wore, the same colour as the intricate detailing on his tie. You could see the pride lighting up within his gaze, causing a rose blush to gather at your cheeks. Dylan always filled out his suits nicely; his jacket hugging his shoulders in just the right way, and of course, the fit of his pants perfect as they showed off a little shape. A chuckle left him as he bit his lip, "You look amazing."

"Says you." You chortled, scoffing at his compliment as if he didn't know just how much he looked like a gift from heaven. With long strides, you made your way across the room, your hips encased by large hands as soon as you were within his reach. Instinctively, he pulled you close to him, gazing over your facial features through his lashes, with a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You could see the copious amounts of love seeping from him, and honestly, you could have died happy right there and then.

Your fingers danced along his jawline, his stubble scratching at them lightly before they trailed down his neck and landing on his tie. The silky material was a smooth contrast to the small hairs that graced his chin. The lopsided knot is what caught your attention next; it was obvious that Dylan elected to tie it himself, but luckily, you were there to help perfect it a little more. You worked carefully as you tugged and pushed, hands moving in all directions until you were happy with the adjustments you made.

"I love it when you take control like that." He mused, his still evident smirk attempting to get a rise out of you. The hands on your hips tightened into a brief squeeze before they trailed up your back, one hand's knuckles eventually dragging over your cheek and down your neck. "I meant it when I said you look amazing, by the way. You always do. I'm a very lucky guy..."

"And don't you forget it, O'Brien."