daniel sharman at the 2013 mtv movie awards
Monthly Archives: March 2014
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thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:
Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…
And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.
He quickly averted his eyes away from the couple who seemed to only be using the booth for something to lean on; not privacy. He found an empty one, sliding into it and pulling her with him in it. Stiles didn’t exactly know what to do next.
Summer kept going, pinning Stiles up against the back of the booth in the same manner as she’d pinned him to the wall a moment again. She latched her mouth to his again, hands to either side of his face, and drowned in his confused desire.
He pressed his lips against hers, instantly losing his nervousness, along with his carefulness. Stiles reached his hands down to the hem of his shirt, hooking his fingers on it and pulling it up and over his head, surprisingly not feeling any self doubt about his body.
“Oh, god,” she rasped, hands sliding over his torso. “You’re just — you — ” She kissed him again, hard and fast with teeth and tongue, and stopped, gasping in breaths. Then she twined her own shirt up just beneath her breasts in a kind of makeshift bra and pressed herself against him again, kissing his throat and down his shoulder.
A throat clearing from behind them startled her into a yelp. A burly sort of fellow, so broad he looked squat, folded his arms at the end of the booth and lifted one eyebrow. “Don’t do that kind of thing here, kids,” he said gruffly. “Go on. Get out of here.”
“Seems awkward to only be using one hand. … I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
“I don’t even know you and I can tell you are a dork.”
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thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:
Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…
And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.
Stiles was flabbergasted at her hinting — forget that, she wasn’t hinting, instead she was very forward with her words and wants. His lips parted, coming to the conclusion, and nodded eagerly. “Priv-Private booth? I saw some…” He hoped she could hear him over the music. He nervously took her hand, taking her through the crowds until they went down a hall. The booths weren’t exactly… private.
She trusted Stiles to know where he was going. She didn’t frequent places like this enough, and even if she had, she was too high right now to pay attention to anything other than Stiles. She played with his fingers as they went down the hall, unruly imagination contemplating what he might be able to do with them. “Hurry,” she urged, barely audible over the music.
He quickly averted his eyes away from the couple who seemed to only be using the booth for something to lean on; not privacy. He found an empty one, sliding into it and pulling her with him in it. Stiles didn’t exactly know what to do next.
Summer kept going, pinning Stiles up against the back of the booth in the same manner as she’d pinned him to the wall a moment again. She latched her mouth to his again, hands to either side of his face, and drowned in his confused desire.
“I don’t think you can play with your phone with a broken arm until it’s been set.”
❝ I have two hands, you know. ❞
“Seems awkward to only be using one hand. … I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
“As an actor, what you dream of is being able to portray people that people empathize with and understand and really feel for.”
[text] oh my god my sister hacked my phone [text] I’m going to kill her [text] I hate my life
[text] I mean. I just wasn’t expecting it
[text] text has been deleted by the way
“It’s not so bad sitting down,” she said, sliding over closer. Once again she reached out and ran a fingertip over his skin. Hesitantly, she lifted her face to his, eyes flicking down to his mouth, before kissing him.
Stiles pressed his hand to the small of her back, holding her closer. “No. Sitting down’s good,” he whispered, before leaning into her kiss.
This kiss was even better. No more stretching awkwardly, just the warmth of his hand on her skin and his mouth on her mouth. Summer nipped gently at Stiles’ lip, hands coming up to slide around his neck.
“Does anything mellow you out?”
❝ My phone. ❞
“I don’t think you can play with your phone with a broken arm until it’s been set.”
“Look at you, smugging. So pleased with yourself.”
“I’m just happy I didn’t get yanked too much into everything.”
“Lucky you! I know just enough to make me nuts, and not enough to understand.”
