#heat obrien | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obriengf · 1 year

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I posted 2,216 times in 2022

281 posts created (13%)

1,935 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dobrienwrites yea ik right

@onlydylanobrien

@dylan-rhodesobrien

@slutobrien

@dylan-obrien-gifs

I tagged 1,972 of my posts in 2022

#dob - 1,283 posts

#queued. - 648 posts

#c: stiles stilinski - 339 posts

#fic rec - 206 posts

#c: thomas - 117 posts

#rec: stiles stilinski - 96 posts

#dylan o'brien - 87 posts

#dylan o'brien x reader - 77 posts

#c: mitch rapp - 63 posts

#rec: dylan o'brien - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#it just grabbed at my heart and crunched it up like a ball of paper before being thrown into the trash can of suffering and pain

My Top Posts in 2022:

can we have ‘ do you touch urself think my of me’ w dylan for ur 500 sleepover thing’ thxx

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sexual language, sexual activity, female masturbation

"DO YOU TOUCH YOURSELF WHEN YOU THINK OF ME?"

You shuddered; large hands ghosting over your sides, radiating dizzying warmth through the terrycloth of your towel. You could feel his movements so clearly despite the lack of physical touch, and it was beginning to make your mind sway with increments of a lustful haze. It was absentminded as your head gently fell back, lulling to the side as his warm breath fanned down your neck, each small exhale feeling like a fiery kiss against your sensitive skin. The man knew exactly what he was doing - the ability to arouse you already easy enough, but executing it without the usage of his masterful hands and lips only added to his adept skillset. You offered a gentle nod of your head, a response that you could only muster from the small amount of sanity he was letting you have. Dylan's lips curled into a generous smile as they dragged under your ear, a tender peck placed over the still wet skin from your shower.

He carefully pulled the abundance of your wet locks over your other shoulder so that his access to your neck became facile, lips now able to properly envelop your skin and leave behind an array of moan-inducing kisses. The man couldn't help but press himself against you, one hand now gripping your waist tightly as the other sat just above your thigh. Even though your eyes were closed, you were sure that you could sense the inevitable swelling of the veins in his arms, an indication that he was trying to hold himself back - that whatever self-control he harnessed was holding on by a whimsy thread before he would eventually have you backed up against the basin and screaming out every goddamn syllable of his name.

"Dyl..." You moaned softly, and if he wasn't focusing so hard on enhancing the purple bruise near your clavicle, he would have missed your near-silent plea. By now, your arm had been thrown behind you to allow your fingers to thread through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as your other hand entangled with the one guarding your waist. You could feel the upturn of his nose nuzzle into the curve of your neck as Dylan reveled in the soothing attention you were feeding him. He hummed lightly against your skin, his lips unable to stop the small litter of pecks that now trailed across your shoulder as he gently pulled down the material shielding your body. You were immediately covered in goosebumps; the cool air meeting your hot and flushed skin spiking the small bumps and provoking a display of shivers down your spine.

"Does the thought of my fingers make you feel good?" He wondered aloud, voice raspy as it was whispered against the shell of your ear. You could only manage another nod as your teeth sunk deeply into your bottom lip, tugging at the reminiscence your body felt as you remembered how good his hands treated you. It was now more obvious that your thighs had been rubbing together from the arousal he easily prompted - ankles crossed over and a small patch of red skin that was caused by evident friction near your heated core. Just the thought alone of the man behind you harassing your moistened sex was driving you absolutely insane.

Dylan untangled your hands before setting his lightly over yours, his movements slow as he dragged your touch down the front of your body. You opened your eyes, lashes fluttering against your cheek before you focused on your boyfriend in the reflection before you. He was mesmerised - eyes detailing the way you were reacting to his touch and intimate maneuvers - until his gaze finally fell on yours, causing a smirk encased in mischief to curl at his lips, complementing the heavy wink that fell from his right eye. He maintained eye contact as his pointer finger directed yours to your clit, the nub incredibly sensitive as he controlled your caress in a circular motion. He was guiding you to pleasure yourself as your chest instantly swelled with a deep intake of air, mouth falling ajar and eyes slowly becoming hooded.

You eventually sighed out in contentment; leaning back against Dylan when your legs began to grow unstable, his spare arm reaching across your chest. He grasped one of your fleshy mounds as he began to squeeze, his thumb and forefinger pinching an exposed peak to draw out your building moan. Dylan smiled as he watched your face contort with pleasure before murmuring in your ear, "Whatever you do, don't stop." His voice fractured with his own arousal, despite wanting to push it aside to focus primarily on you. He let you continue rubbing an array of shapes against your clit, his second and third finger now sliding into his mouth as he coated them with oral lubricant. You watched him intently, and you knew what was coming.

His lips brushed against your neck, "Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see how I make you feel when you cum on my fingers."

It was a growl that entered your ear, the beautiful caramel tone of Dylan's eyes now clouded with a dark chocolate hue, fervor for your pleasure now etching across his features quickly. He managed to suction his lips back to your neck, eyes still boring into the mirror. You couldn't look away from him, you didn't want to, which is why it took you by surprise when he pushed both fingers deep inside of you. An involuntary gasp squeaked past your open mouth, soon followed by a throaty moan that echoed loudly off the tiled walls. His pace was relentless as his fingers thrust quickly, the curl of their tips brushing over your rigid roofing and eliciting a whine of desperation. You didn't dare slow down your harassment on your clit, even pressing down harder when Dylan's nails scraped over a sensitive part of your core.

It was a quick set decision as he reached up to grasp your chin, turning it toward his awaiting lips before he pressed them harshly against yours. He didn't start to take your bottom lip between his own pair until he felt you relax slightly into him, an indication that you were content with the kiss. He sucked, teeth dragging your lip away as he pulled back, only to immediately dive back in and soothe his tongue along the graze. You were receiving amounts of pleasure all through your body, head now spinning with all sorts of romantic sentiments and lustful sensations. You took the opportunity to drag your tongue over his, pulling your boyfriend into you even more by the union shared between your mouths.

It was his turn to groan, only to be swallowed by you as you took leadership in the kiss. Dylan, though, still had reign over your upcoming orgasm as he thrust faster, angle changing until he found the special spot that made you scream between his lips. The room echoed with your joint sounds of satisfaction, complementary to the slick wet noises of his fingers drenched in your arousal as you neared your orgasmic high. You explored his mouth with the desperate muscle, recognising every nook and crevice as if it were the back of your hand. You provoked grunts from Dylan as he sucked the air from your lungs, needing to survive on your taste and feeling, nose dragging across your face as he fought the metaphorical battle of tongues.

It didn't take long for you to pull back, your voice crying toward him with furrowed brows and an incredibly heaving chest, "I'm gonna cum..." You breathed, whinging tangled with your tone as you found his spare hand. It was second nature as you grasped him, fingers sliding between his own, wanting to hold your boyfriend for support from what you anticipated as a body shaking high. He sped up even further, the contraction of your walls around him making his groin twitch and harden. You could feel it as he spontaneously pushed against your backside, the throbbing of his member settling into your lower back. Knowing that this was turning him on threw you over the edge, completely.

Eyes rolled back as you convulsed; the heated ache in your pelvis spreading through your veins as your body erupted in euphoric fire. A loud cry escaped you, "Fuck... fuck, Dyl-Dylan... baby... shit..." Your words were incoherent, unable to form proper sentences as you spoke absentmindedly in time with the stars exploding over your eyes. You could, however, see the familiar orbs of your partner as you maintained eye contact, Dylan's brows furrowing as he bit his lip with enough force to draw blood. His pace began to slow, only stopping when your frame collapsed against his chest. He pulled the tired digits to his mouth, sucking away the remnants of your juices and moaning at the taste he often dreamed about.

"That was so hot." He breathed out, your hearts thumping in unison as the only sounds now surrounding you both were the jagged breaths you shared.

You agreed as you reached up to him, your arm still shaky as you cupped Dylan's face and rubbed your thumb gently over his flushed cheeks. "You, are, incredible." You huffed, smiling sincerely despite the tiredness that now blanketed your face. He could tell by the lidded eyes you flashed him that the pleasure you felt took a lot out of you, prompting your boyfriend to lean in and tenderly kiss your swollen lips. His soft actions made your shoulders slump in serenity as you remained settled against him, only to be held flush further against his chest as his arm protectively sat at the base of your ribs. You managed a chuckle, "Guess I'll have to have another shower to clean this mess up." You gestured to the dripping juices falling down your inner thighs.

Dylan pulled back, at least two steps away from you as you braced yourself against the counter. He smiled gingerly as he removed his shirt, thumbs tucking into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs, "Good, I'll join you."

327 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

“You're joking, right? That asshole did NOT ask you out.” with stiles !!!

Warnings : swearing, doesn't follow canon after s2, i thought this was super angsty but it's not HAHA

Notes : THIS IS LONGISH okay

"YOU'RE JOKING, RIGHT? THAT ASSHOLE DID NOT ASK YOU OUT."

A loud tone of disbelief rung in your ears, the perpetrator only inches off your heels as he followed you through the crowding hallways of Beacon Hills High. His archetypal outburst was far from unexpected, yourself knowing that it'd slip out sooner or later, but what did take you aback was your lack of introduction to the topic - Stiles was the one that approached you, and his words were immediately shot through his lips in full throttle. He didn't take it lightly when you responded with an eye roll, your locker slamming shut before you turned away from the boy to make your way to the courtyard. That's how found yourself dodging strange looks from other students as Stiles continued to flail his arms in utter incredulity, ramblings in the form of incoherent sounds and fractured sentencing now a representation of his cynicism.

"It was one date, Stiles." You replied, boredom of his overbearing protectiveness seeping from your words. With one arm clutching your History textbook tightly to your chest, the other reached out to push the large doors standing in your way, warm rays of sun quick to dance across your skin. You sighed lightly through your nose as a brief moment of contentedness made your shoulders slump. The fresh air was already doing you good, but the rambling from your friend only brought you back to slight suffocation. You turned to face him as feet carried you to a nearby table, eyes glaring immediately at Stiles until his mouth slammed shut. You clicked your tongue as you pondered, "How did you find out anyway? I only told Lydia, and it was only this past Saturday."

Stiles pursed his lips, any sort of eye contact now widely forgotten as he found interest in everything but your stare. His lanky frame began to slide onto the bench across from you, his usual hyper-activeness betraying him as his voice hummed loudly in his throat and leg bouncing distractingly under the table. Stiles looked down to his entangled fingers before a nervous chuckle escaped him, "A birdie told me. A.. super-hearing, hairy, bird of the night.. told me."

You rolled your eyes again, head shaking, voice firm "McCall."

"Look, it doesn't matter who blabbed, alright? What matters is that he asked you out again and you said maybe!" Stiles' voice rose, arms in their typical position as they're held out dramatically by his side, gestures soon to become easily trademarked by Stiles Stilinski. You peered up through your eyelashes, the page of which your textbook was open now bookmarked by your index finger. Your facial features contorted skeptically, eyes squinted, not understanding what point your friend was desperate to make.

Your shoulders shrugged as if it weren't a big deal, and Stiles groaned in irritation, "This is Isaac Freakin' Lahey, Y/N. The guy screams 'bad vibes'!"

"I don't know, he seemed incredibly genuine to me." You exacted, unbothered as you returned focus to your studying. Confidence began to settle your rattled mind when Stiles' voice shrunk into small speechless squeaks. He expected you to agree with him but instead came up dumbfounded as you opposed his delusions of being in the right.

It shocked you significantly when his voice was raised by another two octaves, his tone breaking and strangled as they ran quickly from his lips, "G-Genuine? Genuine, Y/N?! The dude was evil not even three months ago!"

"I think evil is a bit of an overstatement." You quirked a brow, stoic when eye contact with Stiles' widened and amber hues was regained.

"He tried to kill us!"

You began to wonder how many times you could roll back your eyes in a thirty-minute timeframe, sure that by now you'd be close to breaking a world record. The motion was paired with a clicking tongue, "Now, I know that's a definite overstatement."

What you admired about Stiles was also what made him formidable at times. He was continually overrun by his persistence - a trait that derailed him from giving up on people and tough situations, however, also further fuelled his over-energetic notions to the point where the boy became utterly irritant. Paired with his headstrong protectiveness, Stiles was immensely possessive over the ones he cared for most and that made him a constant force to be reckoned with.

Stiles glowered, exasperation clinging to the downward tug of his lips and the furrowing of his brow before his head shook slightly. Large hands dragged down his face at a slow pace as he gritted his teeth, evident that he was trying to not let his inner frustration get the better of him to the point where he'd likely explode with unfiltered wording. You were trying to ignore your friend's 'over dramatics' as eyes skimmed back over your current chapter, the small window of focus now interrupted once again by a heavy sigh; the type that sounded oddly like defeat.

"You're being very difficult right now, you know that? I'm just..." He trailed, hands curling into fists. He appeared ambivalent as his jaw rolled, lips pursing with every attempt to convey his thoughts and feelings in a way that best suited him. Your book sounded gently as you closed it, unable to stop the tilting of your head when you gazed over Stiles' inner conflict with himself. Your shoulders jumped as his fists suddenly banged against the tabletop, Stiles quick to release another heavy sigh, "I'm trying to help you. I don't trust the guy and you deserve better than him! You... you just deserve better."

"Who then, Stiles? Who is better?" By now you were leaning forward on your crossed arms, your voice close to breaking with the frustration you harnessed from your friend's behavior. A small part of you wished that he would finally end the charade and nominate himself. It wasn't a secret that you saw the sun and moon when you thought of the hyperactive boy sitting across from you, hell, you were seventy-eight percent sure he felt the same. Stiles wasn't one to act so readily upon his emotions; he cowered away, pushed them aside, hardly recognized anything remotely reciprocal. But it was simple, you didn't want to act on a stupid crush if you weren't completely sure that he didn't feel the same way.

You looked to him with a questioning eyebrow raise, and he returned it with wide eyes and an agape mouth. Stiles was taken aback by your retort and slowly, his cheeks filled with a heavy dusting of deep rose that pinched at the tip of his upturned nose. He gulped hard, stuttered sounds uncontrollably pushing past his lips until he displayed another unexpected burst of his loud voice, "A-a-anyone! Anyone is literally better."

You didn't think it was possible, but you found another opportunity to roll your eyes once more, tiredly huffing out your words as you awaited on some type of hopefulness, "Give me an example, Stiles."

"Fine... Scott! Scott is better. Scott is like, literally, a hundred-fucking-times better."

His answer was beyond unanticipated. You slowly lent back as you retracted your arms from the table, your own pair of widened eyes expressing how shocked you were to receive a riposte that definitely wasn't thought through long enough. You clicked your tongue as your eyes lowered into a squint of dubiety, brows following as you didn't dare look away from the boy, who himself, was surprised by what he blurted out in the heat of the moment. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to date... Scott? He's the one you think I should be with?"

"I mean, yeah, it's a huge... no, enormous upgrade from scarfy boy." Stiles was simply playing along now, managing a facade that showed his calmness as he leaned back with arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest. His heart, alas, thumped roughly in his chest as he felt it rattle his cage. Nausea seeped into the base of his throat and it took everything to swallow it back down without pulling a face of complete disgust. He was teetering on the ledge of admitting his jealousy and confessing his feelings for you, only to fall down the rabbit hole of concealing away the emotions that quite literally took control of both his mind and heart on a daily basis. He was hurting and he brought it upon himself.

You felt your shoulders slump as his persona was altered so swiftly, doubt about misreading social cues and body language now invading your memories. You bit your bottom lip, harshly, "And there's no one else? At all?" Your voice broke as you squeaked toward him, suddenly feeling so small.

"Why would there be anyone else?"

Lashes danced across your skin as your eyelids closed, a gulp of subdued sadness struggling to pass through your throat. You were familiar with the pain that situated itself with heartbreak, but this felt different - it was raw, and you couldn't understand why. It was as if he had reached through your chest and pumped at your heart himself until the pressure was too much, and the thumping muscle gave out. It was as if the guilt of one simple date with the resident sweetheart Isaac Lahey was beginning to eat at your soul, begging the question of if one small date was too much when you saw hope with the boy next door instead. It was as if those small flirty exchanges with Stiles were one-sided, those fiery touches that left burns against your skin were misappropriated, and that the history you shared together was simply just that... history. You wondered if he was just toying you along for the fun of it all.

"You know what-" You finally said, unaware that Stiles could see how you were so affected by his inability to express himself to his full potential. He, himself, was saddened by the turn that took your usual playful banter to the uncomfortable anguish that was held so tensely in the air between you. When your eyes opened, you took a deep breath, unable to look at the amber eyes that usually made you swoon. Your textbook was gathered in your arms and your bag slung over your shoulder, "This is unbelievable. I don't have time right now for games, Stiles."

He didn't expect you to leave as his eyes followed every movement you made, his body beginning to jitter from surges of anxiety. He threw his hands out towards you as his lengthy arms nearly crossed the entire width of your table, striving to keep the miniscule shaking of his fingers at bay as he called out to you, "Games? What, no, there's no games. What games? No no no... stay, okay, just stay..."

You couldn't find the need to reply, instead, shaking your head and collecting the last of your belongings before moving speedily across the courtyard. Stiles, in turn, was frozen with a clenched jaw and allowed every nervous cell in his body to go unmanaged as he practically fell from the bench and stumbled his way over with quickened feet to block your path. He was at a fastened jog by the time he caught up to your hasty speed, his chest heaving timidly, body hunched as he bent down briefly with hands splayed over his knees. He was short of breath, sure that he would collapse from a heart attack if you decided to move any further.

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345 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

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

SEND ME A PROMPT FOR MY 500 SLEEPOVER!

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."

460 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

Where Stiles Lives Out His Dream.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : just cuteness, maybe like one swear word?

Notes : had this idea for a while, NWH definitely boosted it though!

it started in kindergarten

a five-year-old stiles wearing the same spiderman shirt every day for the first week

surprisingly, claudia wasn't bothered washing it each night

especially when he got it covered in paint and food and.. god knows what actually caused the stain on the left hand sleeve..

one would think that he had that darn action figure superglued to his hand

he refused to let it go, just like that shirt

his obsession never faltered, though

only growing more the older he got

and when he finally watched the movies.. his life changed

stiles was nine-years-old when his dad let him watch the first two tobey maguire movies

he was enthralled by watching spiderman swing around on his webs and fight the bad guys

his large honey eyes were glued to the screen and widened in wonder

and when peter parker finally got the girl, he felt a warmth settle in his chest

a strange warmth that he couldn't describe, not until he was old enough to properly understand

noah stilinski was looking over case files when he felt his son tug at his shirt

stiles only grinned, "dad can i have a mj?"

and noah only shook his head

he smiled back though, admiration etched over his worry lines

"not yet, son"

"dad... is mom your mj?"

and noah only laughed, eyes flickering to a sickly looking woman grinning at her boys' interaction

"she definitely is"

it was freshman year and stiles had turned fifteen-years-old

he wore a large grin to complement his red t-shirt and dark flannel

a large black spider symbol gracing his chest

by now his ADD has grown and he wasn't very good at focusing

See the full post

779 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

can i request “ actually, i think we have to go again. you know, just to be sure… “ with stiles please ? <3

Warnings: 18+, sexual activity, swearing

"ACTUALLY, I THINK WE HAVE TO GO AGAIN. YOU KNOW, JUST TO BE SURE..."

It was hard to resist the chuckle that fell from your lips, your heart still reverberating severely against the caging of your chest from the intimate union you and your boyfriend have only just shared. He was still laying over half your body - collapsed from the effort he poured into your first time together. Stiles was placed on his stomach, head slightly turned on his pillow to face you as his eyes remained closed in absolute bliss. You were able to tuck your chin over his shoulder before pressing soft, gentle kisses against his sweated skin. You could feel the pads of his fingertips lightly brushing over your exposed sides and it forced a pleasant shivering sensation to rush up your spine. He had electrified you; made your soul and mind and every single inch of your body feel utterly alive, and it was so exhilarating.

"To be sure of what?" You started, hands dragging up and down his back in inconsistent patterns as you held him close to your frame, "That we aren't virgins anymore? 'Cause, seriously, Stiles... we are beyond being fucking virgins, especially after what just happened." A ghosted feeling briefly sparked in your lower abdomen as a familiar and enticing pull of a heated rubber band built with anticipation; you could feel the body memory of your orgasm as you continued to draw a deep breath, your teeth sinking deep into your bottom lip as you mentally reprised the euphoria Stiles had put you through only ten minutes ago. It was your first experience of the metaphorical fireworks you see in those romantic movies, a conversation often spoken between your friends as you and the Stilinski boy stood back in awkward outcasted silence. Not that you planned on having sex for the hell of it, no, it all started with a loving stare that was held for too long and a kiss that made you forget that oxygen even existed.

You knew it was time when you could hardly hear his choked-up voice as he whispered that he loved you; that you brought light to his continuously dark days, that you made him forget about the pain that danger that your lives had been thrown into. He spoke with the utmost sincerity until tears gathered in his eyes, the honey tone enhancing as his heart grew larger. Stiles had lost the woman that meant more than the world to him, but you filled that gap, you helped remind him that loving doesn't mean losing - it means holding on forever, and never letting go.

By the time you realised you were daydreaming with a fresh coat of rosy cheeks and a smile of adoration, Stiles was reaching up to push stray hairs away from your face - the warm brown swirls of his eyes, the ones that were burnt in the back of your mind and seen as a regular occurrence in the happiest of dreams, were gazing into your own. He was smiling lazily and unable to keep his hands off of you. You were like porcelain to him, a delicate cut ceramic that needed to be treated with the most tender of touches, a beautiful artwork that deserved to be admired for as long as you stood, and more. It was an obsession that he couldn't shake, and one that you knew you most certainly couldn't lose even if you tried.

"Ya know, can't be too sure these days," He crooned after your brief silence, his mouth finally caught up with his mind, "Gotta make sure the job is done right and to perfection... every single damn time." By now, Stiles was hovering completely over your naked frame, eyes shameless as they scoured your body and brought immense arousal through the coursing of his veins. You could feel his length pulsate and harden against your thigh, the libido of the Stilinski boy already desperate to make love to you once more. The thought alone made you rub your thighs together, a familiar slickness moistening your sex. You placed your hands on Stiles' chest as you trailed them down his pecs, the muscles in his stomach tensing we you passed over his stomach before nails scraped through the darkening happy trail. Stiles shuddered immediately.

"Can we try something a little different?" Your voice was barely audible, a nervous squeak pushing through your lips like drops of anxiety joining the butterflies in your stomach. You looked up in time to see Stiles gulp, his head nodding in robotic action as his gaze widened. You bit your lip again as your hands now slid under his arms to grasp his shoulders from behind, Stiles' large hands clasping over your waist. "I want to be on top this time."

His groan was loud - a deep and strangled growl that voiced from his chest and echoed off the walls around you. His head dropped to your shoulder and you sensed that this was something he'd been thinking about for a long time, fantasized, even. Your thoughts were affirmed when his dick twitched against you, absentminded jerks against your skin as he neared full erection for the second time tonight. You were immensely flattered, but sexual desire took the front seat and you were suddenly rolling across your bedsheets with the boy until his flop of soft and scruffy brunette locks flounced upon your pillow. You were straddling his waist, and you'd have to admit, the angle of this new position brought a power you didn't know you craved until now.

Stiles let go of your waist and brought one hand up, thumb rubbing small serene circles over your cheek the moment he cupped it within his protective hold. The other trailed south before his pointed finger mimicked the circles of your cheek, however harsher and large against your throbbing clit. You moaned with fluttering eyes, the nub still sensitive but surprisingly prepared to be harassed again. You were melting into Stiles and he relished in knowing that he could bring this sultry side out of you.

"You have no fucking clue how hot you look right now... but in case you were wondering, it's very hot. Extremely hot. Smokin' hot-" He began to ramble and his eyes raked down your upright body, focusing on each breast with the desire to attack them with his mouth and tongue, followed by the small grinding movement you were making now that his finger has slid into the clasp of your core. You were a goddess and Stiles was desperate to worship you, over and over again.

"-You need to shut up and stop teasing me, Stiles." You snapped, voice unable to grasp the concept of frustration as you instead began to whine, head lulling back and nails digging into the skin of your boyfriend's wrists. He nodded erratically, stammering sounds of fractured syllables and lost words dancing from his tongue as he quickly reached beside him. The packet of condoms he was incredibly anxious to buy the week before sat idly on your nightstand, his fingers scrounging for the foil chain of squares as his other hand stayed preoccupied with prodding your moistening sex.

Stiles swore under his breath as he managed to get hold of what he was searching for, a small burst of excitement in his success tugging into a smile. With the crinkling sound of foil nearby, you instinctively slid backward and over Stiles' swollen red girth of desperation, the boy sounding loudly at the feeling. He drew a deep breath, "Fuck... okay, fuck, we're doing this... we're really doing this again..." His voice rose in octave, the ball of energy of which was Stiles Stilinski making you grin out of second nature. You could hear the excitement that cradled his words close, his chest already rising and falling with labored breaths. You had barely done anything in your opinion, and he was practically cumming right on the spot.

He slowed down enough to guide the condom over his upright erection before jerking it briefly, his eyes glued to your still glistening skin and the remainder of your prior afterglow. It wasn't, though, until he looked up and caught your gaze that he began to stop breathing altogether. Set deep within your eyes was complete love - an indescribable feeling that left you with a nauseous sensation in your stomach that actually made you feel good - and Stiles thought that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this harsh and wonderful world.

It was last second when he lifted himself from the mattress, never breaking eye contact with you until he was seated upright with you positioned snugly on his lap. He gulped, amber hues flickering between your swollen lips and softened eyes. His lips quirked up into a smirk before he lent into you, pressing a kiss so tenderly over your own pair. Your shoulders sagged in contentedness before you caught his bottom lip, sucking on it gently. Stiles pulled back only the slightest, your lips still brushing as he tilted his head to the side and pushed his tongue over yours. It was a dance between muscles, one that caused moans to elicit and drown in the mouths of the other, a desire to breathe life into the one that made you feel so incredibly weightless at this moment.

Stiles drew out each second until it was literally impossible to go any further, his loud breaths fanning heavily against your shoulder after he pulled away. He had his arms secured around your back now, palms flat as his fingers splayed over the small curve of your spine. Yours were too tangled around him as you played with the longer strands of hair above the nape of his neck, the sentiment prompting a grin to press into your shoulder as Stiles nuzzled his nose into you. As your heart ricocheted in your chest, you settled yourself above the boy, holding his tip over your entrance. He hummed, another small kiss pressed between your breasts from your brief change in height, "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too." You replied, biting down as you slowly sunk down on him, your walls still not used to being stretched as you hissed through the pain. Stiles made sure to lay a hand over your hip to help steady you as the other linked with one of yours, this thumb rubbing over your hold as you offered him a tight squeeze from the aching. When you reached the bottom, you groaned out in the bittersweet mixture of pleasure and hurt, Stiles releasing a similar sound as your tightened walls clenched around his still sensitive girth. It wasn't until you started rolling your hips, that both sets of your eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

"Fuck-".

788 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

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