Dylan O'Brien Short Stories

Stiles || • fluff/smut

thinkin abt stiles doing anything to be the boyfriend of your dreams

he's saving up allowances for dates, going out of his way to pick you up if needed (to roscoes demise), always showering you with affection and praises no matter how simple because you're his, and he's never been more proud of anything in his life.

so when you casually mention sexual desires to him, fingers and lips oily with pizza grease, legs rested over his thighs with his hand gently rubbing circles in your calves; he's quick to comply.

not that night of course, noah is downstairs after all , but the next time you're alone he's pulling you into him with a fervor for you've only seen once, when a certain nogitsune was gone and stiles finally trusted himself again. his lips are almost bruising against yours, his grip on your waist similar. but it's good. you like it, humming pleasantly into the sloppy kiss as lips slide together.

he pulls back reluctantly, instead kissing your neck while you regain your breath. "what's ... what's gotten into you?" your words are discordant, a clear show of how you feel.

"remember when you said you wanted this? you wanted to be manhandled a bit, maybe even destroyed?"

your eyes brighten at the mention, bottom lip rolling between your teeth as you hum affirmatively. your fingers start to twiddle at his shoulders, making their way up to tug on the slightly overgrown strands at the back of his head.

"well if you want to stop, let me know. and we can have a safe word too, for extra precaution. but-" he stands to his full height, pulling his lips away from your neck where you know most of your concealers is going to go for a while. "i want to give you what you want. to be the best boyfriend that i can be."

your grin is contagious, and stiles mirrors it. you can't help it, throwing yourself at him, pushing your lips to his and slinging your arms around his neck. he catches most of your weight, but still tumbles back against his bed, where he flips you over quickly, already slotting his thigh between your legs.

he makes quick work of pressing the muscle against you, letting you grind while his free hand gropes your clothed tit. what follows is a blissful time of stiles pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, encouragement going from sweet praises designed to help you reach the cusp, to borderline degradation as he makes you cum.

there's a certain darkness in his eye when he asks if you're okay and you nod, a way the corner of his lip pulls up. it's intoxicating, and safe, nowhere near when you've experienced from his body months before when he was nowhere near himself. when your stiles was gone, nothing but a void.

now, he's attentive. he's present as he coos at you when you claim you can't do another. he listens to your wanton moans, drawing more from you with each thrust or flick of his thumb against your clit. stiles is himself as he delivers the purest form of pleasure onto you, simply because you'd offhandedly mentioned it a few nights ago.

credit: @murdrdocs tumblr