panthressa

[panthressa]

Part of me wants to make a masterlist but another part of me has no idea how I'd do that for this account. Is that something people would want/appreciate? Should I?

[panthressa]

i was just daydreaming about stiles teasing(torturing) you until you literally come from him just blowing hot air down there 🤭

THE WAY MY EYES WIDENED AND MY JAW DROPPED-

He's a sneaky little bastard and knows it, no, owns it. He applies it in every aspect of his life to get pretty much whatever he wants. It's great. For him. And only him.

His touches are feather soft, just his fingertips drifting over her thighs. At times, they get so close to that spot that aches for him, but he never actually makes contact. It's killing her.

Every whine and whimper that reaches his ears is dangerous encouragement to continue, to see how far he can take this. 'This' being an experiment for the nerdy freak. Oh, how he loves his test subject!

Stiles' soft lips press airy kisses to her stomach and hips, though even that is an exaggeration. He knows that all she wants is to feel him, so he gives her close to nothing, his eyes showing mischievous pride.

Eventually, he throws her another crumb, gently nibbling the skin where her thighs and lips meet. She desperately wants to grab him by his hair and shove his face into her pussy, literally, but she knows she'll only get in big trouble for that, and having to wait even longer might actually end her completely.

She doesn't realize it, but Stiles notices the trail of her sweet arousal dripping down to his sheets. Wearing a smirk, he slowly licks it up, stopping, yet again, right before her pussy. She gasps and moans, feeling so close to that ledge-

And then he chuckles. Stiles fucking chuckles, and his warm breath attacks her, striking the last thread, making her break.

It's finally here: her delicious release. She shakes and moans uncontrollably, possessed by the feeling she's been craving for so long. How did she get so lucky? How did she beat his system of torture?

Well, she actually didn't. See, he's a man of method. This was his plan all along. He wanted her to feel like she got away with it, like she won. But this is just a small piece of the puzzle. This is only the first act.

[panthressa]

hii, i hope ur doing well and just so yk ive been in a place youve been before, obviously not identical but I get how you feel :,) trust that you will get better and you just have to find the right people and have the right mindset ! cut off friends you feel are toxic | love you loads babygirl lolol

Thank you so much, my dear. It's quite comforting to know that I'm not alone and there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I appreciate you reaching out and giving such sweet advice, you're totally right! Love ya lots! 💜

[panthressa]

I feel like being a twin kinda ruined me. Dylan O'Brien as Roman in Twinless (2025) | written & directed by James Sweeney

[panthressa]

Hey, so I'm finally realizing that my best and only friend irl doesn't speak to me for weeks at a time because she actually doesn't give a single shit about me sooooo here's some needy Stiles who just loves giving ALL of his attention (this is pretty fluffy to be honest, just a heads up) ~

"Really? That's unbelievable. What'd she say?" he said, looking straight into her eyes, showing that he was listening to every word with interest and that he truly cared. His hands softly drifted across her soft curves, keeping busy so he wouldn't get distracted. They seemed to be especially drawn to her hips, a reminder of where she was sitting: on his lap with every inch of his hard, warm dick inside of her.

It wasn't unusual for the couple to have long discussions on endless topics in this same position, though the locations varied. This time, he was in his office chair. The gentle swivels sent tingling throughout her body every time one of them moved a single muscle, which made the goal to stay still that much more difficult and exciting.

It was hot, and thrilling, and numbing - feeling him stretch her out and give the illusion that he was penetrating other organs too due to how deep he was. Yet, it somehow still felt innocent, and safe, and comfortable. She knew she could say anything and everything and he'd keep listening, saying only enough to support and reassure her.

Stiles had learned the hard way that offering a quick, obvious (to him) solution only made her feelings twist up tighter and grow spikes. With a little training, he perfected the art of listening, which was practically a miracle for someone with ADHD as severe as himself.

So, she took her time letting every thought out, even if it didn't make sense to either of them yet. And when she did eventually ask for advice, he gave her his honest opinion in a gentle manner, then told her to sleep on it and do what she thought was right, regardless of what he said.

After a few comforting kisses, he finally fucked everything away, giving her something else to focus on: raw pleasure in any position she wanted for as long as she could take it.

Stiles was her safe space, life jacket, security blanket, and, well, to put it bluntly, personal dildo. He truly was the world's best boyfriend.

[panthressa]

stiles who probably one day got tired of using his hand after drinking some of his dad's liquor or going out to a party, and bought a sex toy online!! like I just know he's probably had the thought or two but after getting a little intoxicated finally got the courage to order one.

Gonna be honest here, my dear. There's no way he doesn't own at least one toy. And it probably didn't take that much liquor. Maybe he needed that push because he was nervous about his dad accidentally opening the package before he did, but he knew what he was getting himself into.

After seeing them used in porn, he knew he had to try them for himself. He craved to experience the bliss of being helped towards an orgasm, even if it wasn't from a living, breathing, moaning person.

He'd settle for this. For now.

As soon as he slid his dick into that fleshlight for the first time, he knew that he'd never get over this feeling - the tight, slick hold it had on him, making him throb. He was struggling to breathe and he hadn't even moved yet.

Once a day turned into twice, twice turned into three times, and eventually he was keeping it in his backpack and giving it a name. Not just any name, though. Hers. The girl he can't take his eyes off of during class.

Was it weird? Yeah, probably. But he didn't care. He was too consumed with desire and need. He never wanted to be separated from it. It was too special, too precious. It solved all his problems by giving him a high that no drug could ever come close to.

And then he got a cock ring.

[panthressa]

Promised id be back w a few other ideas yesterday!! Anyway, too shy to not be anon on this but

Make up sex w stiles only bc u have some silly argument and the only way hell stfu abt ur stupid convo thats prob abt u not being careful enough or whatever is to just kiss him!! And then yeah. Feel like itd prob be really passionate and caring bc they dont even remember what they were arguing abt. Kinda notebook allie n noah inspired ig?? Anyways hope ur having a lovely dayy <3

(i stand in the rain, covered in mud and blood, panting on your front porch. all i hold in my hands is this stupid ass fic and the dead bouquet i bought for you in january before my quest began. i wipe my face on my sleeve.)

i fucking hated the notebook.

☆

it's been two days.

two whole days of not speaking.

you're going insane.

well, you're cleaning your room, really. but also going insane! how the fuck has stiles gone this long with no contact? can't he put his pride aside and admit he was wrong and just fucking talk to you again?!

you fold your clothes angrily, brooding alone in your room. it was one of those yelling fights where it ends with you slamming roscoe's door and stiles rubbing a hand over his mouth like a frustrated protagonist in a soap opera. you hate that stupid habit and how good his hand looks when he does it.

all because you want to fucking help!

god, he is such an asshole. all he cares about is keeping you safe and making sure you don't get hurt. a total asshole.

you're mad all over again, and grateful that you're home alone for once. you can be mad all over the house and play angry music and definitely not cry because you do not miss your stupid idiot boyfriend.

god, not even a fucking phone call?

you gather some of your freshly folded laundry into your arms and turn around to put it all away, only to catch a glimpse of a figure in your doorway. you scream, dropping your laundry and whirling around fully to asses the stranger.

and, of course, stiles leans on your doorframe with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

"jesus, stiles!" you push some of your hair back, heart still thrumming from the scare. "you made me drop my laundry!"

"you're ignoring me." he deadpans. his voice is angry, low. "and you turned your location tracking off."

okay, maybe that was overboard. but you wanted him to worry. a little.

"i'm talking to you right now, aren't i?" you huff, gesturing to him before crouching down to re-gather your laundry and set it on your desk chair. "why do you need to have my location anyway? i'm not allowed to do anything or go anywhere by your standards."

stiles pushes off the doorframe, breaching into your room now. there's still a good distance between you as he kicks the door shut almost absentmindedly. "yeah, but that doesn't mean something couldn't take you. didn't i tell you about the kanima-"

"the kanima that took scott's mom hostage, yes. about a thousand times. and the time you got kidnapped with everyone around. and the murder-sacrifices when your dad got kidnapped." you whirl around to face him now, and he looks downright pissed. jaw clenched, eyes zeroed in on your frame, arms crossed over his chest and making his t-shirt pull tight. you take a step closer. "just because it's happened to others doesn't mean it'll happen to me."

"are you serious right now?" stiles starts up, heat flaring in his narrowed gaze. "i'm trying to keep you from getting killed, and that's your logic?"

"i should get to help just like you! you're human, no one's killed you!" your voice rises and you watch as stiles sucks in a deep breath. his arms unfold slowly and he starts to come closer to you, but you keep on. "so, what, just cause i'm weaker or something? you think i can't fend for myself? am i just some stupid damsel to you, stiles?"

he approaches you quicker, and you almost think for a moment he's going to embrace you or something. but he stops short and squints, like even assuming that is stupid. "that's not what i'm saying, but you're right. you wouldn't stand a chance against any supernatural strength. believe me, i've tried. they'd have you pinned down in a second."

"oh, really?" your tone takes on a challenge, and stiles' features seem to release a bit of tension at the sound, almost looking surprised. "i bet i could put up a fair fight against you. come on, stiles. don't you wanna prove i can't defend myself?"

his eyebrows shoot up now, and he literally scoffs. "what? seriously? i'm not gonna fight you. this is just proof to me that you can't throw yourself into this. you're careless."

oh, that'll do it. careless? careless?! you just cleaned your own room and folded your laundry and stiles has the audacity! to call you- you! careless!

"fuck you, stiles!" you shove his chest, but he must have a grounded stance because he doesn't move an inch. it only makes you more mad, and you want to make him move and yell and get as mad as you are so you don't start crying at how stupid this is and how much you just wanna kiss him, jesus- "fuck you, i am not careless!"

stiles seems to bite back words and swallow them, before catching your hands and twisting you around. he kicks your feet out from under you at the same time and takes you crashing into your bed as he pins you down, wrists above your head.

your breathing stutters before you struggle and resist, to no avail. his hold on you is terrifyingly strong, and you always forget how much he holds back when play-fighting you. with a huff, you go pliant under him and glare up at his stupid, stoic face.

"i told you," his voice is softer now; more patient, like he's satiated the beast. "they'd have you in a second."

"i want to help." you hate how your voice immediately matches his softness and how his lips part when yours do. how his legs are clamped around one of your thighs, holding you in place. how his hold on your wrist is still iron-clad, but not painful. you hate it.

"and i'll let you." he gathers your wrists in one hand, using the other to push some hair back. "in time, yeah?"

"that's unfair."

"right. and so is this body," stiles swallows, glances down. "up against a superpowered monster."

"but you-"

"seriously, i'm not gonna argue about this anymore. you know i'm right, baby."

well, that is just offensive.

and true.

you realize you're pouting too late, and stiles' brows draw together. "you gonna listen to me, or do i have to make you?"

"stiles," you go to roll your eyes and turn your face away because seriously, that's ridiculous. you're arguing, not engaging in foreplay.

before you can mumble some halfhearted agreement, stiles uses his free hand and guides your chin to face him again. "i don't understand why you're being so difficult. i'm trying to protect you."

"i know," you push him off of you and he lets it happen, rolling onto his back as you sit up to run a frustrated hand through your hair. "but you don't let me do anything. you didn't let me do anything."

your correction is a clear pointer to the start of the whole argument. stiles practically dragging you out of a fight you were certain you could win. you had a crowbar and three energy drinks on your side, and you were against a beta. the bitch of the pack!

which is exactly what you felt like when he locked you in roscoe like a kid.

"i don't want you to feel like you can't do anything," stiles' hand lands on your knee and he squeezes gently. "you help me out all the time when it comes to the mental stuff. but i refuse to..."

stiles falters, sits up. for a long minute, neither of you say anything or face each other. stiles sniffles and it catches your attention, so you turn your face to find him teary-eyed, lips pressed together. his eyes are glued to your bedroom floor. when he speaks again, his voice trembles. "i can't let anything happen to you. too many people have died because of my carelessness."

you open your mouth to protest, but stiles cuts in.

"you will not be one of those people."

the silence after that statement is like a weighted blanket over the two of you. your eyes dip to the floor, acutely aware of how uncharacteristically still stiles is beside you. during your arguments in the past, he would ramble and raise his voice and gesture with his hands. if he would sit, like you two are now, his knee would shake your bedframe with its constant bobbing.

but.

since everything...

he's completely still.

stiles' hand finds yours on the edge of the bed. just his pinkie, overlapping yours.

"i'm sorry."

you turn to face him.

"i shouldn't have yelled. i should've let you... decide. if you wanted to help. i just..."

"i know." you hush him, avoiding his eyes as you search for the right words. "i know, stiles. but you have to understand that watching people get hurt and not doing anything is infinitely worse for me than getting hurt."

"but watching you get hurt when i could've done something- it- it- it tears me up inside, baby. it makes my throat hurt and my stomach drop and it makes me violent towards anyone who would get in my way to get to you. it makes me crazy." he claws at his own chest, like he's trying to grab his heart. his head dips down so he can meet your eyes, and he's crying. stiles is crying at just the thought of you getting hurt.

you gently grasp his hand, the one gripping his t-shirt at the chest. it relaxes slightly.

"stiles," you breathe.

he exhales, his chest falling under both your hands. his watery eyes flit between yours. his lips part to breathe in.

"i'm not going anywhere."

the room stills, and for a long moment, the two of you just look at one another.

but then stiles caves, hands sliding from your own to grasp your wrists softly, pulling you into him. he catches your lips with his own and wraps your arms around his neck, giving you leeway to run your fingers through his wild hair. as you tilt your head and kiss him gently, his hands run up your back and press you into him, both of you inhaling the other like a drug.

stiles rumbles out a groan when you slide your tongue against his, and you flutter your eyes open just slightly to see what its like to be wanted by him.

his brow is scrunched, clearly still troubled by everything. but his eyes are squeezed shut and he kisses with a fervor as he runs his hands all over you. stiles claws at your shirt until you realize he's pulling you into his lap, and you comply quickly.

he pulls back from the heated kiss just to marvel at you. there are tear streaks down his pretty face, and you cup his cheeks with both hands to swipe them away gingerly.

"i'm scared." he confesses, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch.

you tilt your head and lean down to kiss his cheeks, his eyebrow, his nose. he sighs, and you feel him relax under you. "what are you scared of?"

stiles cups one of your hands over his face. "i'm scared you're going to get hurt. it's all my fault you're involved in this, anyway."

"they're my friends too. i'm glad i'm involved. and i'm tough, a little scratch and bruise won't hurt me."

"it'll hurt me."

"oh," you click your tongue and kiss his lips quickly. "you'll live."

stiles' eyes snap open suddenly, and he smiles with a vengeance. his hands land on your waist and he flips the two of you suddenly, landing with your knees on either side of him and his hands propping him up above you.

"don't patronize me. i'm still right." he kisses your neck, nudging your hair out of the way with his nose. you tilt your chin back and let him explore, and his lips move against your skin when he speaks again. "and i really am worried. i can't have another close call like that."

you find the back of his head and grip a handful of hair, tugging him back to look at you. "stiles, there are werewolves with teeth and claws running around fighting each other. close calls is basically our whole job description. now shut up about who's right and kiss me."

stiles rolls his eyes like it's a hassle to fulfill your request but his lips suggest otherwise. he kisses you like it's the last time he'll ever do it, and now you know why he does that.

because he's afraid it might be.

as the two of you shed your clothes, he spends a lot of time just looking at you. touching you. not touching you touching you, but caressing your stomach, gripping your thighs. he stares at you with glassy eyes and an open mouth when you run your hands over his chest, and kisses you harder when your hand slides into his boxers. he can't keep his eyes off you. when you sit up and unclip your bra rather unceremoniously, stiles begins speaking.

"you're beautiful." he breathes, pulling the fabric down your arms and tossing it away. "so pretty."

his eyes can't pick whether he wants to marvel at the newly exposed skin or your shy face, but his lips make the decision for him as he kisses your breasts lightly.

"i love you." he hums in the quiet of the room. your head tilts back and you sigh, feeling his tongue on your nipple. he blows on it teasingly and you whine in protest to the sudden coolness.

"i love you too, stiles." you catch his chin in your hand and he looks up at where you're kneeling. he's on his knees as well, bent over to focus on your tits and belly (which he has begun kissing his way down). you thumb his bottom lip and watch a sweet smile grow. his hands grip your waist tighter.

"let me apologize." stiles pulls you by the waist to lay back down, working your shorts and panties off easily. your thighs press together momentarily before falling open to make room for him.

"yes," you sigh. stiles' fingers run through your heated skin, slipping one inside you without resistance. he kisses your inner thigh and presses his cheek against it as he looks at you, eyes warm and affectionate.

as he begins working you open for him, he speaks, tilting his head so that you feel the words against the skin of your thigh. "you're dangerous for me."

"how... how so?" your breath is quicker as he builds your arousal almost casually, making your skin buzz with an electric warmth.

"i would do anything for you. anything to keep you safe. i almost killed that beta, the one from the other night. i don't know how, i just remember scott pulling me off his unconscious body."

your head falls against the pillows and you moan as his fingers pay attention to your needy clit. "stiles, please."

"yeah? like that?" he taunts, before his sinful tongue makes its way to where it should be anyway. he crooks his fingers at just the right spot just as he takes your bundle of nerves in his mouth, flicking it harshly with his tongue. your back arches slightly and you whimper pathetically.

he always gets you like this, one way or another. needing him. needing his hands, his mouth, his decisions. you know he likes it this way, having you in a puddle before he even gets himself inside. but he always finds a new way to do it, so it always catches you off guard.

your eyes squeeze shut as he works you closer to the edge. the noises you make are only as loud as the noises he's making, since you're kind of embarrassed how quickly things went from arguing to this. wait, you guys were arguing?

he has you coming on his tongue mere seconds later. his eyes are on you when it happens, you can feel the heat of his gaze. but he works you over until you're pushing him off, tugging on his boxers. asking for more, just a little more, please.

he complies. he always does.

stiles rocks into you gently at first, but quickly finds a cadence that leaves both of you stupid for each other. his hands are tangled in your hair, mouth kissing on your neck in between love-drunk praise.

"god, you feel perfect. i swear you were made for me."

"just like that. yeah, you're so good. fuck."

"y-you're, jesus christ, you're gonna make me come, baby. you wanna come?"

you whine and arch under your boyfriend, scratching lightly on his naked back. he groans, rolling his hips into you slower than before. your eyes squeeze shut right as his pop open, examining you beyond his own pleasure. "it doesn't hurt, does it? you okay? hey, look at me."

stiles almost comes to a full stop before you open your eyes, blinking up at him through blurry vision.

"you're... you're crying. why are you crying?" his thumb swipes at your cheek. you didn't even notice. his eyes fill with panic as you stare at him, dumbfounded by your own tears. he sucks in a breath and his eyes glance down at where you're connected. he seems like he's about to cut it off right as you were on the edge, so you grab his wrist.

"i'm- i'm alright, stiles. i just... i really love you. i don't want you to be scared."

and he looks at you.

oh, he looks at you.

for the longest moment, stiles just stares down at you with a mouth hung open and his dick still in you like an idiot.

"i..." he mumbles, blinking. a tear falls from his eye onto your cheek, mixing with your own half-dried tears. you watch his eyes fill with more waterworks, and he does nothing to compose himself.

you don't either.

you and stiles lay there, connected in every sense, tears silently slipping down your faces. he leans down after a long moment and kisses away the wet that he dripped onto your cheeks. you thread a hand through his hair soothingly.

"i love you so much." he whispers, rocking his hips again. as he resumes what he started, stiles is endlessly showering you in kisses and overwhelming affection. "i'm yours."

"i'm yours." you repeat, feeling yourself reach that peak quicker than before. the look on stiles' face tells you he's at the same point.

"i love you, stiles." you whisper against his lips, pulling him down just enough to kiss you. that's when the chord snaps between you, both of you gasping and moaning softly. stiles keeps going until after you yourself have come down, his own orgasm not even being his own focus.

he buries his face in your neck and collapses on top of you, soft but still inside of you. your arms wrap around his shoulders.

"you did your laundry." he murmurs into your neck.

"yeah. i was kinda mad you didn't notice."

he lifts himself barely just to look at your teasing smile. scoffing but donning a smile of his own, he falls back into the crook of your neck. "i noticed. i've always, y'know, noticed."

your stomach swoops in a girly kind of way at the implication. he lifts himself up and slides out of you gingerly, mumbling a half-hearted apology when your face scrunches. "i was hoping you'd stay for a bit."

"i know you hate being all sweaty and leaking onto your sheets, though."

"ugh, don't say leaking. and this isn't gross to me. come here."

you pull stiles back on top of you and he takes you into his arms, pressing sloppy kisses all over your face as you grin. you laugh and push his hair back, looking up at him just to admire. he does the same down at you.

"i love you." you whisper.

"i love you." he returns the words with equal meaning, leaning down to kiss your smiling slips.

☆

hashtag not proofread i am rawdogging it like you and stiles just did in this really crappy fic also hi did ya miss me

[panthressa]

Mitch Rapp is like the most reserved and secretive person that has probably ever existed. except for whatever reason his pretty little CIA partner knows everything about him because he can't keep anything a secret around her. so maybe when they're at an event trying to track some bad guy down he lets it slip that the dress she has on is absolutely driving him insane. ???? idk I just luv me some Mr Rapp 🫶

No, I feel like that totally tracks, and he absolutely hates it.

As soon as the words slip out, his face is a shade red that makes her smile. She now realizes the effect she has on him and how she can use that to her advantage.

She's seen his toned torso a few times, even helped him clean up some minor injuries, and every time she had to keep herself from drooling. So, she couldn't help but wonder what the rest of him looked like, and now she knows he wonders the same thing about her.

His eyes flicker downward, eyeing every curve and inch of skin available. He knows he's not being inconspicuous, but he's already gone this far, what does he have to lose?

Let's just say that he's officially and properly hard when he watches her cuff the bastard they're after, and he has to adjust his stupid dress pants, which are conveniently tight in the wrong place.

The ride back to HQ is painful (literally). His cover was blown, leaving him with only one thing to think about: all the ways he wants to take that mouthwatering dress off and make her feel good. Not just good. He wants her to feel like she's floating, like her soul is leaving her body all because of him.

He wants to feel her writhing beneath him, her breath mixing with his, her nails digging into him. Mitch would take all the pain in the world just to feel her around him and hear her scream his name.

But does she want the same things? Well, a few not-so-subtle touches in the locker room seemed to prove that to be true. Now they just had to figure out whose place they were going to crash at.

A long night awaits.

[panthressa]

can't stop thinking about stiles and his gf doing a couples Halloween costume! except it's something like a sexy princess Leia and han solo and he's really struggling to keep it in his pants cuz secretly he's had the biggest crush on Leia since he can remember.

Oh yeah. As soon as they get back to his place, he's on his knees.

I honestly don't know much about Star Wars, but knowing that he's obsessed with it is more than enough to be sure that he's ecstatic to be dressed up with her and see her like that. He's had literal dreams about this and now... now he can take full advantage of it.

He closes his bedroom door behind them and immediately presses his lips to hers. His kisses are messy since he's too distracted by all the fantasies he's about to make come true. His mouth moves down her neck, his tongue tasting her skin along the way, and his hands keep a grip low on her hips as he backs her up to his bed.

"Sit," he mumbles, barely coherent. But when he looks into her eyes and completely melts, his need softening into adoration - a desire to pleasure. "Please...?"

She smiles at him as she slowly sits down on the edge of the bed, looking into his doe eyes and knowing well the effect she's having on him.

He nearly whimpers, taking the moment to just stare and take in the utter beauty before him. He snaps out of it when she brushes her leg against his, and he gets down on his knees quickly.

Already feeling her up, he practically begs, "I want you to keep it on, ok? Please. I need this. I need you. You and this."

This is definitely not the last time Stiles worships Princess Leia. He keeps the costume in his closet and pulls it out for special occasions, wearing a giddy, almost greedy smile every time.

[panthressa]

Oh, also. I'm still planning on answering the asks in my inbox, don't worry. Things have been crazy and my mental state is kind of a dumpster fire right now, but I haven't forgotten! So, so, so sorry for the wait. I appreciate you guys so much. You're the best 💜

[panthressa]

Guys, I finally did it. It's three in the morning. My head hurts like a bitch. But I did it. Also, I did my best to steer it more towards Noah and his wife, and away from Stiles' girlfriend, which I think helps! Let me know what you guys think!

Sheriff Stilinski stuff below! Read at your own risk!

It was late, and the poor man was exhausted. The hours in his shift nearly doubled as more and more lunatics seemed to crawl out of whatever hellhole they lived in.

He was honored to have his job, he liked the responsibility (most of the time), but this was one of the few times a year his son was home from college and, as much as Stiles drove him crazy, he loved that delinquent and wanted to spend some quality time with him. Unfortunately, that goal was even more difficult to reach because he brought his new girlfriend with him, and they were practically inseparable.

He'd figure out how to pull them apart for a few hours sometime this week. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Noah was slowly making his way up the stairs, his pace soft and relaxed, therefore barely making a sound. However, there was a sound. It just wasn't coming from him.

He froze at the sweet, undeniable hum from the young woman just mere yards away, his legs keeping him halfway up the staircase. Surprise hit him first, but then he realized this was Stiles at play. He couldn't expect anything less, even if it was in his own home.

The man was stumped on what to do from there. He probably could've gotten away with just going straight to his room and letting them deal with the realization on their own, but as he kept standing there and more noises filled his ears, he didn't want them to know that he knew.

It was sick, he was well aware. His own son and his girlfriend, at it like rabbits while he listened. But he hadn't heard the sounds of a woman being pleasured since long before his wife passed, not in person, anyway. He tried porn once, but immediately felt guilty, knowing how much Claudia disliked it. Plus, it sounded so forced. He couldn't understand what Stiles liked about it so much.

So, he stayed, barely breathing as he took in every sigh, gasp, moan, and plea. He pictured Claudia, and flashes of the nights they used to have together filled his mind. The mornings that almost made him late to work. The evening that were spent bending her over the table instead of eating dinner on it.

He imagined that it was him making his wife make those sounds, and for the first time in who knows how long, blood rushed downward and his hands clenched into fists. God, what he wouldn't give to touch her again, feel every curve, taste them.

His head tilted back, and he let himself enjoy the soft throbs of his cock.

"Oh, fuck- Stiles!"

His eyes shot open, every ounce of blood fleeing from his crotch and filling his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose out of frustration with himself. They were just kids having fun and he was just a needy widower, envying his own son. His stomach churned with guilt.

Noah turned around and walked back down the stairs, heading straight toward the liquor cabinet. He needed to forget. Forget all of it. Especially how much he didn't want to forget and how much he loved that voice of hers...

( @dylans-wifey I didn't forget! I hope you enjoyed!)

[panthressa]

almost argued then i saw ur boobs, youre always right

[panthressa]

Alright. No idea when I'll be able to write next or when it'll be posted, but what do we want to see next? These will all be done eventually, I just want my readers' imput because, believe or not, I am trying to write more 💜

[panthressa]

Every time I get a notification from this account, a sliver of my soul melts away into oblivion.

[panthressa]

Giving Stiles the best birthday sex he’s ever had…

It would've been super awesome if I answered this on his actual birthday but... I'm a couple months late, I'm so sorry 😭. Thank you though!

Stiles loves birthdays, he loves everything about them, especially his own. And he's not afraid to get cocky on his birthday. As he says, "I wait all year for people to even give me a second look. I deserve one whole day for nothing but appreciation and praise. I want the entire world on their knees, bowing down t-" This is about when Scott cuts him off and tries to bring him back down to earth.

Regardless, this same attitude remains in the bedroom. So, this year, his girlfriend decides to beat him to it, on her knees and bowing down to him.

His sleeping body is sprawled out in his bed; she's straddling his thighs as she presses tender kisses down his abdomen. She smirks when his boxers-or what's inside them, rather-twitch seconds before his face does.

For better access, she scoots back and settles between his legs. Small, drowsy whimpers escape him when she nuzzles her face against his clothed, now hard dick. Her hands gently grasp it over the fabric and her tongue licks a slow stripe from the bottom (of what her hands don't cover) to the tip. His legs stretch out and he inhales deeply at the feeling.

He's starting to wake up.

"Happy birthday, Stiles," she murmurs, peeling away his boxers.

"Mm... Yeah... Keep-keep going... Keep doing that..."

His eyes shoot open when his dick reaches the back of her throat and he groans. "Fuck... Holy shit!"

He wants to encourage her, he wants to tell her how good it feels to have her mouth wrapped around him, but she's literally sucking the words right out of him. Not that he minds, of course. He'll gladly show her his appreciation later.

For now, however, he had three beautiful orgasms to enjoy endure. Yes, happy birthday to him indeed.

[panthressa]

And my dick so hard it make the metal detector go off

[panthressa]