CONGRATS ON 500 I ADORE YOUR WRITING !! Can I Request I Know I'm Balls Deep Inside Of You Right Now...

CONGRATS ON 500 I ADORE YOUR WRITING !! can i request “ i know i'm balls deep inside of you right now... but fuck, you have no idea how bad i want to propose.” with dylan please ??

SEND ME A PROMPT FOR MY 500 SLEEPOVER!

Warning : this contains smut references, please proceed with caution.

"I KNOW I'M BALLS DEEP INSIDE OF YOU RIGHT NOW... BUT FUCK, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW BAD I WANT TO PROPOSE."

The fractured panting of Dylan's words were muffled by the curve between your neck and shoulder, but you still heard them, you still felt them as his thrusts got deeper and the fingers digging into your scalp pressed harder. He was pouring every ounce of his heart and devotion into his movements, and you were sure that if it grew any stronger, you'd soon be crumbling beneath his touch. The thought even crossed your mind that maybe he didn't realise what he confessed, maybe he was so lost in a trance that his utmost desires spilled out into confession of love that he didn't know was voiced loud enough for you to hear.

It wasn't until he slowed his hips, eventually coming to a stop, that it occurred to you that Dylan finally understood what was said. You were still so taken aback; eyes forced to flutter open as they focused on the man above you, the strength of his veiny arms holding up his body weight after your sweaty chests were pressed to one another only moments ago. He immediately looked down to you, the lustful glaze settling over his amber hues slowly fading. The rough contortion of his eyebrows and scrunched nose was quickly replaced by softened facial features and a hopeful stare. He was looking at you like you were the sun, and he'd just seen daylight for the first time.

"What did you say?" Your voice was quiet, timid in case you needed to brace yourself for the possibility of your dreams not coming true. The way Dylan tucked stray hairs behind your ear so gently, however, was enough to calm your nerves. He chuckled so incredibly light that you swore the sweet sound was the softest thing you had ever heard, his head dropping down slightly to fall into a brief shake. Dylan reached for your left hand before holding it to his chest, the rapid pace of his heartbeat reverberating underneath; only this time, it was more so from the big step he was about to take, and not the passionate sex that had him gripping at the headboard.

"What I was trying to say.." He started, pulling your hand to his swollen red lips, a tender kiss placed over your knuckles, "Will you marry me?" The confident man that you admired so much on screen had pushed his way to the surface, the directness of his proposal not needing an explanation or story to precede it; the look on his face telling you already that he was so deeply in love.

The need to marry you weighed on his mind for a couple of months - the ring already pre-bought and sitting up high where Dylan knew you couldn't reach. He would often gaze over the glistening diamond stone when you weren't around, imagining it sitting perfectly on your finger for the world to see - for the world to know that you were his, and would be for the rest of your lives. It wasn't until he reveled in the way you touched him so tenderly, and how you would subconsciously pull yourself into his body and encage him with your desperate limbs, that Dylan realised that this moment... as odd as it was, that he was ready to forever call you his.

You could feel tears pricking behind your eyes, already beading on your lash line, the moment finally catching up to you. It was subconscious when your eyes then flickered to the hand held captive against his naked chest, Dylan following your line of sight before he began to stammer, "I-I have a ring... it's just... I don't really want to... leave you... right now." The man gestured to his torso was slight embarrassment, his still hardened girth throbbing inside you from the upkeep of adrenaline.

"Don't worry about the ring." You said, smiling with every spark of happiness you could muster. Your hands managed to drag their way up to Dylan's cheeks, holding them carefully as if they were made from the finest of porcelain. The small teardrops that rolled down your cheek complemented your affectionate eyes and passionate caresses perfectly, Dylan already learning of what your answer to his big question would be. It wasn't until the eager nodding of your head and the soft sniffle you gave that tears of his own began to stain Dylan's flushed cheeks, a chuckle now protruding from your own lips before you gathered the warm beads on your thumbs.

You bit your lip, head still nodding as if you were stuck on a loop, "Of course, I'll marry you, Dylan. Yes. I love you, yes!"

Can I have 💦☁️🤮 with Dylan. Obsessed with the idea of fake dating and your writing is amazing

send me EMOJI PROMPTS for a ’blurb time’ blurb -

[ 💦 ] : sleeping together for the first time.

[ ☁️ ] : enemies to lovers.

[ 🤮 ] : fake dating.

FAKE NEWS [part 2 is here]

From the outside, your union with Dylan represented all contributing factors of a loving devoted relationship; public displays of affection paired with the joyous smiles of infatuation, longing gazes that covered from head to toe, and warm tender touches that danced wherever they could reach. A closed door spoke differently, however, when your backs were turned to the public eye and the close proximity you once shared instantly reverting to hateful strangers sleeping on different sides of the house. What nobody knew was that everything that seemed perfect about you and Dylan was utterly and completely fake.

It was meant to be good publicity for your further developing images in the Hollywood spotlight; your joint publicist deciding that it was best for your blossoming careers, and to raise more exposure for the new film you shared together. Overall, the idea was writhing with stupidity. To make all matters worse, you couldn't even remember why you and Dylan didn't get along; but it drove a knife through the centre of your phony relationship and only presented tense situations and hateful glares among yourselves. It would get to the point where you could go hours dodging each other around the house, words unspoken and eyes focused on whatever was preoccupying your hands at that moment. It was difficult to juggle your emotions, but neither of you made the move to fix whatever was broken between you both.

This is what led to Dylan perched on the edge of your shared couch, his eyes crinkling in confusion and frustration as they skimmed over ridiculous tabloid articles concerning the two of you. The brutal features from wannabe journalists and tryhard paparazzi were getting worse as each day dragged on, prompting the man to drag his large hard down his face, groaning loudly as he stood from his position and trudged his way toward your bedroom. His deep whisky hues remained oddly fascinated by the spreading lies coursing the internet - so much, that he ignored all common courtesy as he immediately opened your closed door with his eyes still glaring down at his phone. "You won't believe the bullshit that they're saying about us-" He started, brows knotted deeply and teeth gritted before he looked up to you. It was sudden when he froze, Dylan's words swallowed roughly by what he saw.

"Dylan, what the fuck are you doing? Get out!" You squealed, your body only clad in your hugging pair of underwear and bra before you rummaged for something to wrap around your exposed frame. His jaw still hung, all skills pertaining to how to speak now gone and replaced by small choked noises. With rolled eyes, you carefully walked toward him, your hand reaching out to grasp at his phone and tug it away from his suspended movements. "This better be good, otherwise I'm going to fucking kill you." You hissed, absentmindedly tugging the sheet around you tighter. You reluctantly scrolled through the variety of gossip featurettes; they varied from 'secret proposals' to 'Dylan at his last straw', even one detailing how you were both planning on getting matching tattoos, which was very much news to you. What stood out the most, however, got you seething almost instantly. You gasped loudly, "I'm WHAT? I am in no fucking way pregant. What the actual fucking fuck is this? Where do they get this from?!"

The shrieking tone of your exasperated voice broke Dylan from his daze, the mental image of your body still burnt in his mind but temporarily pushed aside. He shuffled to the side, head peering over your shoulder as he too read the article in disgust. "We can't do this shit anymore, seriously. It's screwing with our heads and our lives, and I'm so goddamn over it." Dylan's voice was deep, representing a low growl when his hands tugged harshly at the roots of his hair. You felt like puppets, dolls, playthings where you couldn't even direct the story of your own life. It was exhausting. "The sooner I can get out of this stupid house and away from whatever this-" He gestured between you both, his fingers lengthy as they pointed back and forth, "-is, the better."

"Oh, so you're just that desperate to get away from me?" You scoffed, your fractured relationship causing immediate misconception of his choice of wording. Your head fell into a soft shake as you pulled yourself away from Dylan, arms hugging yourself out of makeshift comfort. Dylan's fingers pinched the bridge of his nose before his eyes squeezed shut, the inklings of a stress headache dancing behind his eyes. That's not what he meant, but you were just as stubborn as he was, which is what made him know that you most certainly wouldn't listen to reasoning. A defeated sigh dropped from his lips as his other hand reached out for your arm, fingers gently wrapping around the bend of your elbow. Dylan ignored your quiet protests before pulling you back to him, your body twisting until you were both standing chest to chest.

"I hate the idea of us fake dating, that's what I want to get away from." The usual amber warmth of his eyes grew dark in time with the increase of his heart rate, the fast pattern ricocheting against you. It was a very rare occasion for you to see Dylan with this level of seriousness that prompted you to fall silent, your own gaze widening as you looked up to the taller man. He clenched his jaw and bit at his bottom lip, gnawing at it from the inside before allowing both of his hands to sit over the structure of your shoulders. Dylan ducked down until he was at your eye level and sighed deeply, "I don't hate you either. Not as much as we're both making it out to be. You can be a pain in my ass, don't get me wrong, and you piss me off to no wit's end, but I don't hate you. Honestly, there's no one else that I'd rather go through all this shit with." Lips quirked upward when a small chuckle was released, his head once more falling into a soft shake. You wanted to return the sentiment but the way his eyes shamelessly flickered between your lips and eyes made you think otherwise.

"Well..." You started, your tongue poking out briefly to wet your lips, feet pushing you up onto the ends of your toes until you matched his height. A breathless whisper is what came next, the grip on your sheet becoming lost as you instead entangled your arms around Dylan's neck, "Promise not to hate me for this, then." You didn't leave any time for contemplation before your lips moulded against his, drawing the man into you until his large hands dragged down the side of your body, leaving a fiery trail in their wake. They settled on your hips and you could feel the flexing of his fingers against your bare skin, making you shiver from growing anticipation. He kissed you back feverishly as he tilted his head and brushed the point of his nose against your cheek. You were desperate for air; inhaling every last offering of his breath after he prodded open your lips further with his tongue. You felt weightless - whether it was from your upcoming lack of oxygen or just the feeling he gave you, you weren't too sure, but it felt amazing regardless.

You only pulled back out of desperation when your forehead dropped to his, ragged panting between you both managing to breathe the silence of the room. It took you a moment to realise that your fingers were now threaded through his hair, the nails lightly scratching at Dylan's scalp and prompting gentle moans to sound into your ears. You could feel him stumbling, but unaware that the tightness of his jeans had increased, blood rushing to where it needed to be when he took another quick glance at your lack of clothing. He groaned internally. Dylan cleared his throat as he nuzzled his nose against yours, dragging the upturned tip once again over your cheek and settling under your ear, "I think we have a problem because I'm very turned on right now and I don't really want to stop kissing you. Or touching you."

You gasped lightly, the thought of his hands and lips travelling over every exposed inch of skin only making you shudder. Whatever form of 'hatred' that surrounded you both for so long was easily forgotten, possibly from the long-awaited admittance of emotions that had remained hidden for far too long. You rocked your head up and down, your swollen lips placing a small kiss along his predominant jawline, "Then touch me, and kiss me. And don't stop until I am screaming out your goddamn name."

Dylan's fingers danced along your shoulder blades and walked down the line of your spine until they reached the restriction of your bra. He kissed your shoulder once, and then another until he managed to unclasp the metal hooks. Before continuing, the man tilted his head back and caught your reciprocated drunk daze, the softness etched across your facial features leaving him utterly mesmerised. "You'll be screaming out more than that when I'm done with you, sweetheart."

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."

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."

congrats on 500!!! you so deserve it, i love your writing! 🤍 could i have “i’ve been flirting with you for the last six months, thanks for noticing.” with dylan pleaseeeee?

SEND ME A PROMPT FOR MY 500 SLEEPOVER!

**thank you thank you!!! such a sweetheart <3

“I’VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR THE LAST SIX MONTHS, THANKS FOR NOTICING.”

You watched as Dylan's head tossed back, the neck of his bottle funneling chilled beer into his mouth as he shot a lazy wink in your direction. The lively laughter mixed with tunes from indie rock bands created a quintessential atmosphere in the dive bar, only enhanced by the warm tones of the coloured downlights that accentuated the golden specks in Dylan's caramel eyes. You were both here for your friends' engagement; the party already a few drinks in before you decided to slip away to the bar. Your drunken state allowed you to feel the vulnerability easier to the point where it drove you to inevitable loneliness. It was hard when you were surrounded, quite literally, by love - an abundance of couples adorning the space in front of you with intimate dances, longing embraces, and tender kissing. It reminded you of how utterly alone you really were.

Dylan found your retreat for a stronger drink amusing when he slipped into the seat next to you, a smile that was so warm and familiar playing upon his lips. Your reasoning, however, caught his attention the most before his confession was released so nonchalantly, his calmness bringing a shocked expression to your facial features. You thought he was joking as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, tugging lightly to conceal the grin that began to creep between your cheeks. A soft giggle filled the air before your head shook, eyes flickering from the fiddling hands in your lap to his composed and complacent expression.

"You're kidding, right?" You queried in reply, glancing over the softness that stemmed from his eyes and the temperate smile that curled higher with each passing second.

Dylan chuckled before taking another sip of his drink, his tongue quickly darting out to catch any stray droplets from his lips. He placed the bottle down upon the bartop, next to the freshly poured concoction of spirits you ordered not too long ago. He was serious - he had no reason not to be, but the way your saddened composure changed so quickly to joyousness had him erupting with serotonin. It was his turn now to shake his head as he wondered how you couldn't see his advancements over the past few months. He was basically throwing himself at you. At first, the man considered you weren't interested before he realised that you were just simply oblivious. It made the sparkle in his eye for you shine brighter.

"I'm far from kidding." He started, dropping his elbow to the bench before sitting his cheek within the large palm of his hand. By now, Dylan was grinning widely, another spurt of laughter slipping past him in a drunken haze. He sighed, "I mean, fuck, you're gorgeous. And hilarious... some of the shit you say is just so fucking funny, truly. You're also kinda badass, and it's hot. You're hot. Why wouldn't I wanna flirt with you, seriously, I'd have to be stupid or something." His spare arm flailed in time with his wording, exaggerated gestures setting the scene as liquid courage sunk deeper into Dylan's system. You could tell by the glaze settling over his eyes that the hangover tomorrow would be a brutal one.

His tangent brought a deep rosh blush to your cheeks, a visual form of flattery as you looked away from the man in slight embarrassment. Evidently, you never knew of the characteristics that Dylan found so enticing, especially seeming that you never considered yourself even possessing such qualities. His intoxicated version of a silver tongue painted a picture of you that he found attractive, but you never saw it, maybe you weren't supposed to. Maybe... what Dylan saw in you was perfect for his eyes only.

A rare encouraged braveness prompted your eyes to glance back toward him, focusing primarily on the eyes that were the epitome of every doodled love heart ever drawn - they complemented the sincerity that graced his smiling lips, and together, you could see that Dylan O'Brien was very much being serious. He was looking back at you like you were the rainbow that graced his rainy day, additional to the newly light shoulders he carried after offloading just how he really felt about you. He was finding your reaction immensely endearing, and if he had slightly less self-control, he'd already have you curled against his chest as he held you within his arms.

"You never said anything, ya know, before now." The obvious was stated within a softened tone, your voice carrying until it was stopped by the glass pouring fruity flavours into your mouth. You felt looser, less constricted, as you continued to question the man, "Why is that?"

He was slowly becoming more liberated with the supplementary help of his near emptied beer bottle, the ideal usage of a filter for his words dissipating immediately as his comfort grew in your presence. Dylan bit his lip as he began to pick subconsciously at the label disintegrating from the moistened glass, his focus never leaving your face, "I thought you weren't interested at first, which was a major buzzkill, by the way. All that pining for nothing, but I couldn't stop it if I tried, and fuck, did I try." He sighed loudly, head nodding in the direction of your half-drunk beverage. He reached for it when your smile was provided as permission, humming in acceptance to signify that he liked what he was tasting. You didn't speak, noticing that he just needed an extra kick to continue his telltale explanation. He really was going to feel this in the morning now.

Dylan licked his lips, the glass returned to its rightful place at your side before he continued, "And then I saw the genuine smile you would shine my way when I spoke, and how you wouldn't shy away when I put my arm around your shoulders. Your eyes gleamed and you stood by my side, never leaving for anything. So, I began to think, maybe something really was there between us. A spark that needed igniting. But... I didn't want to force that on you, so I waited. Very patiently, might I add."

Your eyes rolled back, playfulness etching at the happy creases beside your eyes and growing grin that Dylan couldn't look away from. This newly profound information made your eyes metaphorically widen, opening to the signs that were missed, and the small compliments and tender touches that you had overlooked as plain friendly. The brief realisations were interrupted by Dylan's hand reaching for yours on the bench, his fingers sliding carefully over your skin and leaving curt fiery trails behind them. He was hesitant, but calmed almost instantly when you flipped your hand around for him to slide his fingers in between.

He took a deep breath, "Then I saw how sad you looked tonight. You thought nobody noticed, but I did. I always do. So I bit the bullet and decided that I was finally going to tell you how I feel, hoping that there's even the slightest possibility that you felt the same way in return."

"And what do you think?" You finally spoke, voice surprisingly steady as you gave his hand a soft squeeze as it remained encased around yours. "Do I feel the same way?"

Dylan blinked a few times as he assessed the situation, as well as he could due to the level of alcohol he'd ingested - you'd yet to run away, yet to object or reject his hand, your smile hasn't faltered and your eyes only harnessed more beauty than he'd ever seen before. Your focus was primarily stationed on him, watching carefully with the utmost forbearance.

Dylan exhaled in content, "I think you do. I really think you do."

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.