" There's No Way I Can Cover These Marks " With Mitch?

" There's no way i can cover these marks " with Mitch?

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Warning: mentions of sexual activity, swearing galore

"THERE'S NO WAY I CAN COVER THESE MARKS."

You shamelessly bit down on your bottom lip, eyes trained on the sinewy form at the foot of your bed as his muscles flexed under even the smallest of movements. You could see through the minimal space of which he didn't cover the mirror, that his eyes were squinted in concentration and brows furrowed as he played inspector. A soft giggle fell from your lips as he was referring to the trail of purple splotches adorning his neck, littering over his collarbone and eventually down to his chest. They weren't hard to miss - the colour was vibrant and definitely semi-permanent for a while.

"You didn't seem to be complaining when you had your dick in me." A purr settled in your throat, Mitch peering behind him through the reflective surface just as you rolled slightly over the crisp white sheets. His whiskey hues followed the thin material only just barely covering your torso and thighs, knowing exactly what he'd find if it happened to slip from your naked body. The image made him moan before he swallowed hard, his head slightly shaking as he tried to rid the beautiful picture you'd paint him every time you both were intimate. He had to leave for work, he couldn't be late again - Irene threatening to have his head on a stick if he dared show up outside of their agreed-upon time.

You could see his struggle, prompting you to laugh quietly under your breath before pushing yourself up into a more seated position, hands quick to grasp the sheet and drag it up to cover your exposed front. "I could put some makeup on it? Works wonders for me." Which it often did - your body usually the one marked and decorated with Mitch's insignia. You believed that he enjoyed it more than you, which wouldn't be an understatement if he could only see the look of pride he sported when he admired his pleasureful work. That, and the symphony of moans that he conducted from you with just his mouth.

Mitch instantly scowled, his brows furrowing, "You're not touching me with that shit. It looks fantastic on you, let's leave it that way."

His answer prompted a pout to playfully sit on your lips, causing the man in front of you to roll his eyes. You knew how to get him going. "Don't look at me like that, not with those dumb puppy dog-eyes..." The man sighed, a brief head shake and disbelieving smirk gracing his facial features. He chuckled, knees already breaching the edge of your bed, "Look what you're making me do, baby, now I have to come over there and kiss that frown away, and you're the one that's getting blamed when Irene loses her fucking head."

Mitch moved quickly; his large hands already capturing your waist as he held you through the sheet, lips immediately encasing your own. You fell backward with a gentle thump as Mitch's body completely covered your smaller frame, your arms snaking around his neck to pull him closer to you. His tongue swept along your bottom lip, a dance of its own, until you eventually opened for him. It was as if he was trying to breathe in all that you were - an attempt to graciously accept the love that you so willingly provided him. The intoxication he felt when he was drawn in by your tender touch and sweet taste would always drive him to utter oblivion, a drunken daze that required no alcohol. He knew that the moment he crossed that bed to join your lips again, that it'd take him a hell of a lot to pull him back out.

It was you who pulled back first, needing a moment to catch your breath as your fingers tangled in the slightly long locks of your boyfriend. Mitch, however, didn't stop. He didn't want to. His mouth dragging along your jawline and down your neck, suctioning around particular pressure points that he knew made your legs shake. A throaty groan escaped you and the man couldn't help the smirk that pressed predominately against your skin. Your voice was strangled, a soft choke escaping with your words, "Is this your way of getting pay back? By making us hickey twins?" You sounded dubious, but the nod and muffled sound of agreement he breathed against your neck solidified your beliefs. "You're enjoying this way too much."

The euphoric feeling that vibed through your bedroom was halted when Mitch's phone began to buzz, the vibrations creating a loud and intrusive pattern against the nightstand. He groaned, shoulders slumping before throwing his arm out to the side to bring the device to his ear.

"I'm busy."

He grunted before tossing it to the side, screen now laying flat on the mattress. His hand returned to your body in order to pull the sheet down, his tongue not shy as it followed the material, trailing between your breasts... until the phone rang, again.

"Occupied."

He spoke sternly into the receiver once he picked it up again, the phone thrown across the bed for the second time this morning. You were finding amusement in the situation, wanting to file a small laugh but the second his teeth pulled at one of your exposed nipples, your body returned to its state of anticipation and lust. Your head lulled back as a hand threaded through his hair, softly tugging along with the moans gathering in your throat. The sensations you felt were mesmerizing, until you suddenly jumped, the generic ring tone calling through once more.

Mitch growled, reaching for the device now somehow behind him, "Wrong fucking number."

You stifled a chuckle, "Go. Stan's just gonna keep calling. He'll probably come kick the damn door down and drag you out by your ear if you hang up on him again."

The man deflated, not wanting to admit the accuracy of your statement, especially knowing how Stan likes to deal with things in the unconventional kind of way. He looked into your eyes, their brightness making him smile, "If I have to."

---------

"What the fuck is that?" The older man grumbled, eyes trained on Mitch as he slid into the passenger side of Stan's beaten-up truck. He started mostly at the litter of bruises rising above the neckline of Mitch's black t-shirt, before focusing back on a pair of mischievous amber eyes.

"They're hickeys, Stan. You actually need somebody interested in fucking you to be able to get some of your own." Mitch retorted, his usual level of attitude still managing to push at Stan's buttons, regardless of how used he is to it by now. Mitch smirked, "Y/N's a biter." He declared, voice smug and proud before showing off a wink.

Stan looked utterly disgusted, "Yeah, you don't fucking say."

Kitchen Nightmares || Mitch Rapp x Reader

Prompt: i spent three hours cooking food for you, and you're polite enough to pretend you like it but i'm a horrible chef and i can tell by your face that you're lying (SCRENWRITER)

Words: 437

Warnings: swearing

Notes: very very short, but i wanted to write me some soft mitch

Mitch was good at keeping a straight face, he had to be; an agent couldn't afford to break their facade in the line of work he pours himself into. He was required to put up a mask and fake his way through situations, pretend to be something he's not, pretend to feel things that he wouldn't usually feel in that moment. You had never been with him on the field, but you knew that the way his eyebrow was slightly twitching, his lips quivering in the tiniest corner of his mouth, even the missing gleam in his chocolate eyes... he was lying.

"I'm not going to force you to eat it, Mitch." You mentioned, contemplating the pain on his face as he tried to chew and swallow the meal you placed before him nearly ten minutes ago. It was both amusing and tiring to watch him continue to play this game. You groaned loudly, hoping to catch his attention, "We can order take out. I'll let you choose what we have, I don't care. Just stop trying to please me."

"No, babe, you made this. I'm going to enjoy it." He spoke through a full mouth, words muffled completely to the point where you hardly caught any of the syllables. He winced as he swallowed the strange texture, flavors he had never tasted before sliding down the back of his throat. Mitch felt as if he had to be grateful - he was gone for three weeks on a mission in the Middle East, he hardly slept let alone hardly ate. He wasn't stupid and knew that you only wanted the best for him as you welcomed him home with a cooked meal. He also was very aware that you couldn't cook, at all. "It-it's fucking amazing... so good, babe, so... fucking good."

He wasn't fooling you. He never could. "This is what we're gonna do, tough guy. That shit right there, that I can absolutely tell you hate, by the way... is going in the trash. And then we are ordering Vietnamese food. You're gonna cuddle the crap out of me and then we're going to have long hours full of sex until we fall asleep naked in each other's arms. Got it?"

Your sudden dominance was provoking a twitch in his lower region, a gulp forming in his throat as your arms were paced upon your hips. He had never been so attracted to you. Mitch let out a shaky breath, accompanied by that famous wide grin that had been missing from your life for nearly a month. With licked lips, he groaned, "Fuck yes."

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.

💀 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."

Heeey, can i have neck and waist from the prompt list with Dylan please?

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

[ WAIST ] : receiver catches sender around the waist right before they kiss them.

[ NECK ] : sender brings a hand up and rests it on the back of the receiver’s neck, pulling them in for a kiss.

It wasn't often that you both chose to go out for date night, and tonight, in particular, was no different. There was just something so appealing about a home-cooked meal and cuddling in front of an old-timey movie playing in the background. You and Dylan both adored the simple things in life, the normalcy that isn't often represented in the lives of those of the rich and famous. Knowing him, he'd be more than happy with a burger from McDonalds and large fries - however, you also knew that he deserved to be treated with something a bit more special than usual take-out. This is what led you in front of a hot stove, surrounded by an array of ingredients, with the small huffs and swears of Dylan echoing from the other room.

You ducked your head around the corner and furrowed your brows at your boyfriend's actions, scanning over the intensity of concentration sketched across his facial features. He was setting the table with the tip of his tongue poking through his lips, his own eyebrows crossing. You could see the remnants of a beautiful summery bouquet scattered over the top of your dining table, water from the fallen vase dripping off the sides of the table from the spilt puddle. Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling a chuckle as you continued to watch him. It wasn't until you chortled that little bit too loud that Dylan whipped his head in your direction, eyes growing wide at the fact that he was caught out. Your lips curled inward as they pursed, shoulders still wavering from now silent laughter.

His feet kicked off and were soon hot on your heels as you retreated back into the kitchen. You maneuvered around the island bench, making sure to keep your eyes set on Dylan when he flattened his hands against the opposite side from you. His furrowed eyebrows were challenging your next move, communicating that no matter where you go next, he'll be right there to catch you. You barely moved a foot to your left before large hands suddenly clasped around your waist, playfully tugging your back against a strong chest. Dylan leaned back so that he was perched against the sink, your body flush against his, the man's lips peppering small pecks over the exposed skin under your ear. Shivers provoked goosebumps up your arms from his touch, and he began to laugh at your small moans of protest when he pulled away. Dylan sighed, "You weren't supposed to see that I fucked up, ya know? Kinda ruins the whole 'perfect boyfriend' thing I had goin' on."

You turned in his arms before peering up at him with an expression of admiration, hands linking behind his neck. You smiled sheepishly at him, "You're still perfect, even if you break my favourite vase and leave water marks on my dining table." You followed his wandering gaze when they flicked down to your lips, his tongue poking out once more to quickly lick at his own. Even after all this time together, you still found yourself growing giddy and weak at the simplest actions Dylan made, especially when they led to your arms wrapped around each other and lips sharing sweet kisses.

One of your hands dragged fingers through his brunette hair, nails scraping lightly at his scalp in a way that you knew soothed him. The other sat flat against the back of his neck, applying small pressure as you pulled his head down toward you, the aim to affix your lips against his gently. Dylan complied immediately. He applied pressure into your union as one hand remained grasping your hip and the other slid down conspicuously past your lower back. His nose probed against your cheek when he turned his head, taking the lead with a desperate nudging of his tongue until you gladly granted him access - you could feel him smile easily against your lips. The urgent sensation was enough to create a groan of pleasure to escape you, needing to stand on your toed so that you could push yourself even closer to him, ready to take your moment to a deeper level when you heard an interfering hissing sound.

Your head pulled away and was focused onto the stove, whatever you had bubbling in the pot was now overflowing and dripping onto the hotplate. You swore under your breath and ran toward the disaster waiting to happen; fiddling with the dials before gloved hands moved the pot onto a cold space on the stove. Dylan peered over your shoulder and hummed, fingers somehow fiddling with a spoon that you had no recollection of him picking up. He moved past your hurrying frame and scooped up the liquid that was still falling from the pot. His shoulders lifted into a shrug after he tasted your food, "Good. Not as good as the taste of your tongue down my throat, but still good."

gaze w/ dylan for the kiss me?

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

[ GAZE ] : right before the kissing begins, sender gazes at receiver’s lips, then back up at their eyes, waiting for them to make a move or give confirmation.

Small laughs were a constant interruption during your scene with Dylan, the chortles slipping from both your mouths every time you both got too close to one another. It didn't help in the slightest that the brunette man would purposely pull a childish face at you when your noses were close enough to touch - this time, in particular, was caused by the crossing of his eyes and tip of his tongue poking out at you. The director was playing along at first as he made small jokes himself about content for the gag reel, but fifteen minutes later and he was yelling CUT! like a broken record and rolling his eyes with a hidden smile ghosting his lips.

Dylan pushed out a lip-trill as a way to compose himself, his hands shaking out at his sides. You were only seconds behind following his lead until you were both sure that the zaniness was at a minimum. The director indicated that filming was resuming before your hands gently gripped Dylan's arms, the personality of your characters taking over once more as you stared up into his whisky-coloured eyes. Lines dripping with every possible essence of love fell so easily from your lips, almost immediately reciprocated from your partner's character. The scene was easily set and the mood grew swiftly between your flushed chests.

Your eyes focused on the plumpness of his lips - so simple, but so enticing. It was hard to remember that this was a scripted scene and not an invitation to jump on him for no apparent reason. The act of his tongue slipping out quickly to lick his lips broke your focus and caused you to drag your gaze back up to his. Your head tilted softly to the side as your eyes asked... dared... him to finish the job. In true Dylan fashion, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth and he leaned into you, pressing his lips to yours and scrunching his nose as he deepened it. The peck didn't last long as he pulled away, forehead against yours. It was time for you and your castmate to join once more in a union that was determined by the way his tongue dragged across the bottom lip of your red-painted smirk, and as if on cue, you allowed him access. He sunk entirely, his tongue dipping deep inside as if he needed a part of you to help him breathe.

It had to have just been acting, surely, but it was definitely perfect.