Dylan O'brien & Other-Smut-Imagines

What's It Going To Be?

"You really stink," I laugh as Isaac pulls his shirt off, the muscles of his abdomen and chest flexing as he looks down at me.

"Don't lie, you know it's sexy," he smirks as he takes a step towards me and I feel the cool metal of the locker against my back.

"The smell of sweat is only sexy when you're having sex" my eyes trail down his long, Adonis-like torso, resting on the V of his hips. I drag my nail over the curve and across the waistband of his shorts and his eyes flutter, his breath hitching.

"You know, you were very distracting today. I think that's why I kept getting pummeled on the field. That skirt is fucking dangerous. Did you know that I could see up it from where I was? That red lace just fucked me up the whole time."

I wasn't aware that that was noticeable.

"And did you also know that I could smell you all the way from across the field?" He whispers in my ear and my heart skips a beat at the realization that what he was smelling was not because of him.

"This is my favorite skirt you know, it's my lucky skirt. Do you know what would look really good with this skirt?"

"No, what?" He laughs.

"Your face...underneath it," I bite my lip as Isaac throws his head back and groans.

"Wouldn't be anywhere near as good as mine," Stiles mutters as he rounds the corner, his eyes blazing a molten gold.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?!" I push Isaac away from me, closing the distance between me and Stiles quickly.

"What's up, Sparky? Did I interrupt something?" He smirks and I fold my arms across my chest. His eyes flick down and back up so quick I almost miss it. Key word 'almost'.

"Only the second time today," Isaac mumbles as he slams his locker closed. "What's up with you, Stilinski? What's got your panties in a twist?"

"I recall some red panties being twisted earlier today," Stiles narrows his eyes at me.

"Watch it, Stilinski," a growl rips from my throat.

"Or what? What are you gonna do? You know, I don't even know why we call you Sparky anyways."

"Stiles, be careful," Scott pokes his head around his locker door, eyes wide.

"We should've called you Toasted S'More, 'cause you're nothin' but a marshmallow."

My pulse thunders in my ears as a flash of heat courses through my veins. The palm of my hand connects with Stiles' cheek with a loud crack. The sharp intake of breaths from Scott and Isaac is the only sound after that that I hear.

"Don't ever call me a marshmallow."

Stiles has yet to turn his head back to face me. His tongue slides across his bottom lip as he smiles. His eyes meet mine once again.

"Hey, Lahey. Make sure you pull her hair, she really gets off on that shit."

"What?" Isaac looks between us and I can't for the life of me form any kind of words in this moment.

"You think her mouth tastes good? Her pussy tastes even better. I should know, my tongue was buried in it just a few hours ago," Stiles winks at me and I see Isaac lunge towards Stiles out of the corner of my eye.

"Isaac!" Scott screams, wrapping his arms around Isaac before he can even get close to Stiles.

Stiles holds his arms out, tauntingly and Isaac's eyes flash yellow, a snarl ripping from his throat. All I can do is stand there, completely floored by what's just happened. Thank god it's just us four left in the locker room.