Imagines vary from any of Dylan's characters he has portrayed, including the one and only. Smut will be in some but I will put up a warning for those not comfortable! Also HIGHLY recommend listening to the songs with the imagines...
-dylan
-stiles...
WARNINGS : NSFW 18+, oral(male receiving) , fingering , marking , first person p.o.v , unprotected sex
SUMMARY : Stuart and (Y/N) have a night well spent together during some celebrations.
WORDS : 4111
SONG : F*ck You All The Time - JEREMIH
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"STUART I swear to every fucking God ever invented throughout existential history, unless there is a perfect reason - like you have broken into my house to save me from a killer - that explains why you are waking me up at three in the morning, I will become the killer." I swore, holding the phone against my ear as my eyes closed and I could feel myself drifting off into sleep already.
"No! I promise!" His voice shouted excitedly through the phone and I winced, but I was too lazy to even lift my hand to it and turn down the volume, simply opting to lose the ability to hear and conserve that energy. "You remember the interview I took online? The one you sat with me for because I was having a panic attack and you flirted with the guy taking my call? Well, I got it! I got the internship!" He screamed and I chuckled as he rushed his words, desperate to get them out. Before I even had a chance to congratulate him, he was reading me the seven page email that had been sent to him and I crawled from the bed.
Without even having to see him I could tell that he was animatedly throwing his arms around in gestures and the look on his face was one I saw regularly when we were alone and rarely in public. A look of pure happiness, ease and joy. One where he'd completely forgotten all his issues, one he wore proudly painted across his face when he was simply letting himself be happy and care-free, even for just a moment.
I put the phone on speaker, stepping into the bathroom and flipping the light on. I ran my fingers through my hair, snapping it into a makeshift messy bun with the elastic from my wrist and running my brush lazily over my teeth as he reached page three. I was beyond caring about what I was wearing and decided that sweatpants and crop top that definitely didn't not fit, still held back from my days of being a cheerleader in the early years of high school was appropriate to go to McDonald's at this hour, because let's face it everyone else in there at this time would be wearing much the same attire.
Stopping to take a breath, I heard him click over onto page four and scroll down to where he needed to be to read, humming slightly and I grabbed my purse, my shoes and my keys as I headed through the door, slipping each shoe on as I walked and hearing the door automatically lock behind me as it slammed, the elevator dinging loudly as the bright lights flooded the corridor, immediately being available for use because every other person in the apartment block was asleep.
