crybabystilinski

[crybabystilinski]

only bought this dress so you could take it off, stiles stilinski

summary: you go buy lingerie for your boyfriend, which ofc leads to smut at the end

warnings: MDTI, 18+ characters are like in their 20s, stiles and reader live together, lingerie, soft reader ig, reader wears makeup, missionary (we love that in this household), fingering, finger sucking, pet names (baby), praise kink, unprotected p n v (pls don’t do this), hickeys, after care, mentions of becoming pregnant (not reader), girl gossiping <3, mentions of plan b, fluff, grammar errors

stiles masterlist

this was a mistake. a huge mistake.

the moment you stepped into the store, your best friend emmy gasped dramatically, clutching your arm.

“Oh my God, i can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers excitedly, dragging you further inside. “you, my sweet, innocent bestie, are buying lingerie for your boyfriend.”

“shhh!”you hiss, face burning as you look around. “can you not announce it to the entire store?”

she waves you off. “relax. everyone here is either doing the same thing or buying something ridiculous for fun.” she nods toward a woman looking something covered in rainbow gems. “see? no one cares.”

you groan. “why did i bring you again?”

“because you’d have a panic attack and run out if i wasn’t here, plus i’m a pro lingerie shopper” she says before gasping and yanking something from the nearest rack. “oh. this is the one.”

you glance at it, and immediately turn red. “that is tiny.”

“it’s bold,” she corrects, holding up a deep red, strappy set. “imagine stiles face if you walked in wearing this.”

“he’d probably choke and drop dead,” you mumble, shoving it back onto the rack.

she giggles, already flipping through more options. “fine, fine. you want something softer, more you. let’s see…”

after a moment, she gasps and pulls out a delicate blush pink lace set. “oh, this is perfect.”

you reach out hesitantly, running your fingers over the fabric. it’s soft, feminine, and so pretty. “it’s not too much?”

“nope.” she grins. “it’s the perfect mix of sweet and low-key i want you to fuck me.”

you open your mouth in shock, before a dry laugh comes out. your stomach flutters as you stare at it. “what if I look ridiculous?”

she snorts. “please. he’s gonna lose his mind. the man already adores you, and now you’re giving him this? he’s done for.”

you bite your lip, heart pounding. “i don’t know…”

she sighs, crossing her arms. “okay, let’s pause. how’s everything going with you two, anyway?”

you fidget with the lace, avoiding her knowing gaze. “it’s… really good. he makes me happy.”

your best friend softens, a genuine smile replacing her teasing smirk. “i love that for you.” then, because she can’t help herself, she adds, “and how’s the, you know… other stuff?” she playful giggles.

your face turn red. “i am not talking about that in a lingerie store!”

she cackles. “fair, fair. but i assume things are going well in that department?”

You cover your face with your hands before shyly nodding in agreement. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” she grins. “now, are we getting this or what?”

you sigh but clutch the pink lace set tighter. “…yeah.”

she fist-pumps. “YES. Oh my God, you have to text me his reaction. something coded. like, ‘mission successful’ or houston, we have a problem.’”

you shake your head, laughing. “you’re the worst.”

“and yet, here you are, taking my advice.” she grins. “you're welcome, now help me choose something for drew”

later that night, after a casual dinner at your favorite little diner, you and stiles made it back to your shared apartment. the night had been simple, just the two of you, laughing over milkshakes and fries, enjoying each other’s company like always.

now, back home, stiles kicked off his shoes near the door and stretched his arms over his head with a satisfied groan, before you guys made your way to the bedroom. “that burger was life-changing,” he announced, flopping onto the bed like he hadn’t just eaten enough food to knock him out for the night. “i may never move again.”

you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you slipped off your jacket. “well, you better find some energy, because I have a surprise for you.”

his head lifted immediately, brown eyes sparking with curiosity. “a surprise? for me? what kind of surprise?” he sat up a little, watching you closely as you took a step toward the bathroom.

you just smirked. “you’ll see.”

before he could ask, you slipped inside and shut the door behind you, heart pounding a little harder now that you were actually doing this.

with a deep breath, you crouched down, reaching under the sink to grab the familiar pink victoria’s secret bag you had hidden earlier. the second you pulled out the delicate lace dress, anticipation curled in your stomach. the blush pink fabric was soft against your fingers, the lace weaving through sheer panels that hinted at just enough skin. you carefully unfolded it before quickly stripping out of your jeans and sweater, shivering slightly as the cool air met your skin.

slipping the dress over your head before putting on the matching panties that didn’t cover much, you adjusted the thin straps, smoothing the fabric down over your body. the way it hugged your figure made you pause, your reflection catching your eye in the mirror. it was delicate, soft, and undeniably beautiful—you looked beautiful.

your cheeks warmed as you ran your hands down the lace, turning slightly to take in the way it draped over your curves. you weren’t used to wearing things like this, but for stiles… you wanted to.

before you lost your nerve, you grabbed your phone from the counter and quickly typed out a message to emmy.

you: here goes nothing!

you: going to surprise him.

you: shaking in my imaginary boots

emmy: u def look like a goddess.

emmy: good luck, baes! keep me updated ;)

you: ur 2 much, love ya <3

with one last deep breath, you touched up your lip gloss, making sure everything was perfect before reaching for the doorknob. your heart pounded as you turned it slowly, stepping out of the bathroom with somewhat confidence.

stiles was still sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he caught sight of you, the device dropped onto his chest with a soft thud. he froze, his mouth slightly open, the corners tugging into a faint, smile. “what-” he started, his voice rasping, but the words caught in his throat

“…holy shit.” he sat up so fast you almost laughed, his hands gripping the edge of the bed.

“uh—yeah. yeah, i—wow. you—” he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as his eyes flickered from your legs, to the lace hugging your waist, to the delicate straps on your shoulders. “damn.”

“is this for me?” he asks

“no, it’s for the bird on the window” you playfully roll your eyes, as you feel him admire you more.

you moved away from his gaze, tugging at the hem of the delicate fabric even though it did nothing to cover you. "you're staring." you muttered, your face burning as you looked away.

"how could i not stare?" he repeated, pushing himself up from the bed. his eyes stayed locked on you, wide with disbelief. “baby, how am i supposed to stop staring when you walk in here looking like this?"

"it's just lingerie," you mumbled, trying to play it off.

"no," he said, shaking his head as he made his way towards you, his feet pacing against the hardwood floor. his hands found your waist, his fingers firm but gentle. "It's you in lingerie baby. don't downplay it."

"you're being dramatic." you giggle shyly.

he tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "dramatic? baby, i'm not even doing enough." he leaned in closer, his breath brushing over your ear, his hands roaming your body. "do you even know what you're doing to me right now?"

your breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. his thumbs brushed over the lacy material, and he shook his head, his eyes softening as they roamed your face.

“take it you like your surprise?” you murmured, tilting your head, as he moves you closer, his hand caressing your cheek, “you’re ruining me” his voice slightly drops, making your mind dizzy.

you look at him through your eyelashes, before he picks you up and plops your body onto the bed. he takes off his shirt in such desperation, as he crawls on top of you, he settles himself between your thighs, you feel his rock hard cock against them. your lips met in an intimate, warm kiss.

the kiss got messier, more desperate, needier "baby, look at you” he says his voice raspy and low between kisses.

“youre so fucking beautiful." he whispers as he moves to placing wet kisses on neck, you tilt your head back giving him more access to roam, you thread your fingers through his hair softly pull it causing him to groan. his hands rubbing on your soft thighs causing your breath to hitch.

“stiles please i need you” you whine out rubbing your thighs again, your core was calling his name, you felt yourself getting wetter.

you sigh in relief when his fingertips grab onto your thighs, spreading them open. as he runs his fingers through your lace pink panties, causing you to mumble out his name in desperation, “shh, baby, i’ve got you,” he murmured,

he takes off the pink lacy panties before throwing them across the room, he helps you out of the lacy pink dress. his fingers part your slick folds, and he hums at the wetness that instantly coated his digits. he circles your clit with his thumb, applying barely any pressure at all and teasing you further, making you whine some more

“don’t tease me baby” you whine, pulling him into another messy kiss, as his fingers continue to tease you.

he lets out a dry laugh before finally giving in, and he slips two of his fingers inside you. “like that, baby?” he rasps, pumping his index and middle fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. stiles thumb went back to circling your clit as he worked you open with his fingers, his eyes didn’t need to down at your core, he knew your body so well. a moan slipped from your lips when he curled his fingers.

“fuck, you are so wet, huh?” he teased, stretching out your tight gummy walls as best as he could, his pace quickly sped up, making you whine out. he pulled his fingers out. bringing his fingers up to your lips, you welcomed them in your mouth where stiles watched you suck your sweetness off of them

your tongue swirling around his fingers and sucking them, making him groan at the sight of it. “can you get any more perfect?” he mumbles, pulling you into a kiss, tasting your liquids in the kiss. he pulls away from the kiss, your mouth watered, watching him unbuckle his belt to shove his jeans off his hips, his boxers go next, and your eyes fall to watch as his hard cock springs free.

he lowers himself and lining his thick cock with your entrance. he softly kisses you, before he starts to thrust inside of you, at a slow and long peace the head of his member would kiss your g spot, making you spilled out moans. each thrust would make you feel hazy, from the pleasure.

he moans out your name, telling you how he wants to hear you. he continued to kiss you, swallowing all the pretty sounds you made while he rocked into you.

you guys would occasionally whisper ‘i love you’ between moans, the way he would roll his hips whisper sweet nothings in your ear made you see stars.

”every part of you is perfect” he rasps out, your mind went dizzy, your vision growing fuzzy, as you let stiles consume you. his moans were like music to your ears, the warmth of his skin making you feel whole, you felt your orgasm catching up to you, that familiar pit in your stomach forming. each thrust brought you closer “you’re taking me so well baby” he grunts out, as your fingers are tangled up in his hair.

“feels good, baby, huh?” he mumbles out “so good- stiles please-“ you slur out, as he begins to suck on your collarbone, stiles continue to thrust his rhythm into your arching core hitting all the right places.

”fuck, you feel so tight around me,” stiles praises, pushing futher into you, causing the both of you to be a whimpering mess.

your start spilling out his name he knew you were close, he started sped up. “mhmm” you whine from your pouty lips. you arch your back, your orgasm hitting you with so much force.

the feeling the way you clamped around his cock was mind breaking. you felt so fucking tight around him, all thoughts left his brain the second you whimpered ‘‘please cum inside me..’’

“f-fuck are you sure?” his hips stuttered, his cum threatening to fill you up any second now. you met his eyes, a silent doe eye look for him to do what you asked. burying his face in the crook of your neck, he softly bit the flesh there as he there, a groan leaving his throat as he painted your insides white with his seeds. you cradled the back of his head, pushing yourself impossibly closer to him as the hot ropes of his cum filled you up.

still going through the aftershocks of your previous orgasm, you couldn’t help but squeeze around his length, milking him for all he had before he platters kisses across your bare chest. running your manicured nails down his back, stiles stayed caging you between his arms, his thrusts coming to a slow stop. before he pulls out, flopping besides you.

the room was quiet, expect for the sound of your heavy breathing that soon slowly evening out. the air was thick with warmth.

you felt his lips press against your forehead, soft and lingering, before he murmured, “you okay?”

you smiled sleepily, shifting to nuzzle into his warmth. “mhm.”

but that wasn’t enough for him. his hand slid up your bare back, fingertips tracing soothing patterns against your skin. “like, really okay?” his voice laced with softness.

you opened your eyes just enough to see the concern look behind his eyes, and your heart swelled. he always made sure, you were fine.

“i’m perfect, stiles.” You reached up, brushing your fingers through his messy hair, still damp with sweat. “really.”

he let out a sigh of relief, then pressed another kiss to your forehead before rolling onto his side, his fingers dancing up and down your arm,

you stayed like that for a while—him watching you, you watching him—before his lips curled into a smirk. “not to be that guy, but… i was kinda incredible, right?”

you let out a sleepy laugh, “stiles.”

“i mean, i just wanna know if i should be expecting a trophy or maybe a heartfelt speech—”

you rolled your eyes, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it. he let out a dramatic grunt before tackling you back into the sheets, laughter spilling from his lips as he wrapped himself around you.

“im just saying,” he murmured, pressing a series of slow, lazy kisses against your shoulder, “you made some very compelling noises.”

your cheeks burned, but before you could protest, he was sitting up, pulling the covers higher over your body. “hold that thought—i’ll be right back.”

you watched as he slipped out of bed, tugging on a pair of clean boxers before disappearing into the bathroom. a moment later, you heard the sound of water running, and when he returned, he had a warm washcloth in his hands.

he settled beside you, gently nudging your legs apart before running the cloth over your folds, carefu. you shivered from the feeling, your still sensitive.

once he was done, he tossed the cloth aside, “here,” stiles said, pulling one of his hoodies from the chair by the desk. “this might feel more comfortable right now”

you slid into it with ease, the oversized fabric swallowing you whole, smelling faintly of his cologne still lingering, and you couldn’t help the content sigh that escaped your lips.

stiles watched you with a small, affectionate smile as you pulled the hoodie over your head. his hands reached for your waist again, giving you a small, playful squeeze. “i like seeing you in my clothes. you look better in them than i do.

“what’s better on me—the lingerie from earlier or your clothes?” you teased, watching stiles climb back into bed with you. he froze for a second, a look of complete surprise crossing his face as he thought it over.

“you can’t ask that,” he huffed, throwing you a playful glare. “that’s totally unfair.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, your fingers already reaching for your phone as you quickly texted emmy.

you: mission was a success <3

you: I’m gonna go buy more sets ;)

a few seconds later, emmy replied back.

emmy: yk what? get it!

emmy: drew and i had a GOOD time ;))

emmy: i was born to ride

you: raw and deep next, question

emmy: yk what sabrina carpenter said? “i might let you make me juno.”

emmy: ya, that’s me

you giggle, typing quickly with a grin.

you: i’m spoil that kid rotten

emmy: but in the serious matter, tmr go with me to buy plan b plss

you: ofc ofc

you placed your phone on the nightstand and turned your attention back to stiles. he was staring at you, eyes wide in disbelief, as though you’d just pulled off the most impressive trick in the world.

“what?” you asked, your voice a little teasing.

he shook his head slowly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “nothing. just…you’re unreal, you know that?”

You smiled, feeling a warmth flood your chest.

“movie?” he asked, voice quiet as he reached for the remote on the bedside table.

you nodded softly, still grinning, before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his jaw. as you pulled back, you let your head settle against his chest, your eyes closing as his arms wrapped around you in a comfortable position.

we all deserve an emmy as a bff <3

[crybabystilinski]

thinking about stiles with a girlfriend who has long/fake nails.

him constantly begging her for head scratches, her soothing him to sleep with them after void, the marks on his back after a long night, the list goes on. stiles would love having a girlfriend with long nails.

[crybabystilinski]

FIRST KISS

pairing — bsf!stiles x bsf!reader

warnings — suggestive, nothing really

word count — 1.7k

a/n — i wrote this with buzzcut stiles in mind until the end and i haven't been reading a lot for teen wolf so it's probably really ooc but whatever🤷‍♀️ i didnt feel like proofreading so lmk if you see any mistakes!

thinking about . . . bsf!reader and stiles talking about virginity. first base, second base, further.

thinking about . . . stiles having to admit he'd never even kissed a girl, much less had any actual use for a condom. the one time he did completely failed.

thinking about . . . the way his cheeks would flush when he admits it, his fingers twitching with his usual nerves and embarrassment.

"no, i’ve never—i mean, uh—"

"wait, have you not had your first kiss?" you were hoping he wouldn't notice the smile that crossed your lips. it wasn't amusement, or anything condescending, the question itself was out of pure curiosity. definitely not because you liked him. but the thought of stiles having no experience, you kinda liked.

"i'm not judging. i was just curious." he met your eye after that, a slow and subtle sigh leaving his lips. he readjusted in his seat, jerking his hips forward to lean further back on your couch. "i have not had my first kiss, but i'm sure i'm not missing out on much."

a silence followed his response. one, because it was a fat (and really bad) lie. and two, because you're now trying not to bust from the sight of him alone.

"that was the worst lie i've ever heard from you." he quickly nodded. "yeah."

another silence. another pause.

"do you want to?" you asked him, seeing his eyes flicker with curiosity and surprise. "want to.. kiss you?"

you nodded, now realizing just how bad your suggestion could turn out. you could've just ruined everything. but no, stiles is a teenage boy, he wouldn't be upset about a chance to kiss a girl. no matter who it was. right?

you could feel yourself tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, subconsciously gnawing on it.

stiles on the other hand, was dying. his lifelong crush and best friend just offered to be his first kiss, of course he wants to say yeah. but what if his breath stinks? what if, what if, what if?

his brain is going a million miles an hour, maybe double what it normally does, and your stupidly suductive lip-biting had him feeling like he short-circuited.

"i mean, yeah, obviously."

you had to restrain yourself from smacking your own head. why did you choose him of all people to be annoyingly in love with?

"right, obviously." you rolled your eyes playfully, sitting up to face stiles. when he didn't move, you motioned to come closer. "c'mon stiles, i'm not about to sit on your lap."

he moved to lean up, inching closer. but his hands were held out in the air, clearly not sure where to put them. you couldn't help the quiet giggle that escaped your lips while you grabbed and moved his hands.

you placed them loosely on your waist. "just relax and be comfortable. confident. if something's wrong, i'll tell you, okay?" he nodded, and you could feel his fingers flex against you. he adjusted them slightly, venturing further down, closer to your hips. "is that okay?"

you nodded with a laugh, putting your own hands on his shoulders. a shiver went down his spine, ticklish to his buzzing nerves.

then you leaned in, stopping right as your lips brushed his. you wanted to make it hot, you wanted him to feel how you do for him. and granted, you couldn't do that with just a kiss, but you could definitely make him think about it.

you pulled back less than an inch, feeling his warm breath fan over your mouth, then pushed forward, finally connecting with him. he kissed back, and although it was a little awkward, a little erratic, you liked it. it was stiles.

but you wanted more, and you were pretty sure stiles did. he would randomly push further, like he was going to take control, then he would soften out. you pulled away for a second, no more than a couple inches, and make eye contact with stiles.

his eyes were droopy, flickering back and forth from your eyes to your lips. his lips were parted and slightly plump, darker red than before, and his breathing was heavy and irregular. fast then slow, then shallow.

you were going to be the death of him.

but before either of you could say something, or ruin the quiet moment, you kissed him again.

this time you were taking even more control, a need to be closer to him taking over. your lips began to open more, your tongue diving into his mouth. the clashing of your teeth and your tongues. it was rough, but it felt oddly comforting.

at some point you raised your body subtly, getting leverage over stiles. his hands were gripping your waist tighter, an underlying possessiveness to it that you were blissfully unaware of. all you cared about right now was how hot it was.

he was holding you so rough but so gently, so possessively but so shyly, it was confusing your already need-foggy head.

your mouth slipped away from his own, lips pressing wet, open-mouth kisses across his rosy cheeks and jawline. aside from the obvious reddening from your makeout, his rosy cheeks were a feature you noticed that were always present.

his now grown out buzzcut used to help bring attention to his face. his cute little button nose, his sharp jawline, the constellation of moles scattered down his face. when your lips came across one, they got a gentle and sweet peck.

your leg swung over his lap, putting you on top of him. the position was more confortable, but it was obviously going to have an effect on stiles.

through yout descent, you found a specific spot right below his ear. a spot that, with a suck, a kiss, a nibble, would cause a noise to escape stiles. it was just a soft exhale, but it was jagged in comparison to his smooth breaths. you could feel his body tense under you, along with a rapidly growing bulge. it brushed against your clothed clit, the smallest squeak coming from you that only made stiles hornier.

"fuck." he quietly mumbled in a groan, feeling your lips smirk against his pulse. you slowly continued down until you reached his shirts collar.

pulling away to look at him and decide what to do next, you found his eyes to be scrunched shut, mouth parted and lips glossed over with a mix of your spit and his. a decent sized hickey right where you just were, a proud smile on your face.

"stiles." he opened his eyes, meeting yours. he noticed the way your kiss-swollen lips were smiling in the most mischievous way he’s ever seen. "mhm?" he hummed, missing the way your lips felt on him.

"do you—what do you want?"

a quiet pause, one where stiles’ brain is trying to catch up to the present.

oh.

oh.

the position, his still firm grip, your cold fingers just barely under the bottom hem of his tshirt. what does he want?

"well, what—what do you want?" you smiled, rolling your eyes. deciding to take control again, you murmured, "it better not be like this every time." he nodded, watching the way you took off his shirt so delicately. then he realized what you said.

"wait, every time? you mean we get to do this again?"

you paused, not even realized what you said basically just outright told him your feelings. and now you have to try to have a serious conversation while he’s shirtless.

"well, if you want to."

"do you want to?"

"this isn't about me."

"how is this not about you?"

seeing him get a little frustrated at your defiance, a smile spread on your face. "you have a lot of questions." his facade of serious expression faltered, a loving smile replacing it. "i do. like, why are we doing this?"

your smile however, dropped at that question. you were hoping to get out of it, out of saying it.

"you've never done it. i'm helping you out." he nodded, but it clearly wasn't convincing him. "i'm doing it because i like you, not because i need to kiss someone."

you heartbeat quickened at his confession, "you what?"

"do you like me? or is this just to give me a first kiss?" his expression was light, but the playfulness was gone. "i like you." that was all he needed to hear before kissing you again.

it was surprisingly more heated now, backed by unspoken feelings coming out. it was messy, hot, and wet.

stiles was subconsciously digging his fingers into your side harder, his hips rocking. he was pressing you down, everything rubbing right where it needed to. he let out soft whimpers, ones that he would be embarrassed of if he wasn't achingly hard right now.

you were overwhelmed. with pleasure, with the sight of stiles. his arms, every muscle and every vein, were bulged and covered with a sheer film of sweat from the steamy room. his hands were on you, far enough down that your eyes could make out every ridge in them. and his hair? the small, thin group of dark brown hair, course and slightly wavy, that travelled from his belly button down. it lead your eyes until his pants were in view, blocking the rest.

he started to get more confident. a lot more.

his hands were wandering, cupping your neck and jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over your collarbones. his other hand was sliding up your back, his hand bringing warmth to your skin.

he stopped when his fingers hit your bra, pulling away breathless. "d'you wanna go upstairs?" you asked, referring to your bedroom. he licked his lips, nodding slightly.

he watched you get off of him and the couch, your hips having extra sway as you reached the bottom of the stairs. when he realized he was still on the couch, he hopped up with his usual high energy, practically running to follow you.

you gave him a small peck on the cheek, then turned to walk up the stairs, leaving him trailing behind with a smile and a direct view of your ass.

[crybabystilinski]

everytime i see this pic i think of theo raeken/cody christan

like the facial hair? the teeth?? the smirk??? it looks sm like him. especially in season 5

[crybabystilinski]

CRYBABYSTILINSKI’S TAG SYSTEM

etc ::

#𓂃 ₊⟡ maddy recs .ᐟ — fic recs

#༉‧₊˚. maddy speaks .ᐟ — random thought posts/reblogs

#꣑ৎ mads reblogs .ᐟ ˚⋆ — reblogs

#꒰ asks .ᐟ ࣪ ₊ — answering asks

characters/readers

#🍎 ˚⋆ stiles stilinski — stiles related

[crybabystilinski]

CRYBABYSTILINSKI’S RULES/GUIDELINES

for requesting!

i will write suggestive/possibly smut, but i can deny anything i don’t feel like writing

i will write for most teen wolf characters && most of dylan o’briens characters

for taglists!

if you want to be tagged in all works or all for a specific character, i can do that, just lmk through an ask!

[crybabystilinski]

THOMAS | masterlist

one shots

to be written . . .

moodboards

to be written . . .

series

to be written . . .

drabbles/thoughts

to be written . . .

[crybabystilinski]

LIAM DUNBAR | masterlist

one-shots

to be written . . .

moodboards

to be written . . .

series

to be written . . .

drabbles/thoughts

to be written . . .

[crybabystilinski]

STILES STILINSKI | masterlist

one-shots

to be written . . .

moodboards

to be written . . .

series

to be written . . .

drabbles/thoughts

first kiss

[crybabystilinski]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . loser stiles and his out-of-his-league pretty girlfriend.

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader.

summary: when stiles finally asks you to be his girlfriend and you say yes, he can’t believe it —and he’s not the only one. you two come in very different fonts. but, you’re so quick to prove him and his self-deprecation that you like him, fully and shamelessly.

warnings: used of y/n… im sorry. a little fluff? reader being a menace and the end of stiles life (in a good way).

a/n: i tried my best to be funny and make it a little longer. a mother needs to feed her kids. based on this req <3

stiles stilinski had spent a solid seven-teen years being a complete and utter dork. a nerd. a disaster in human form. the kind of guy who could tell you, unprompted, that the fear of long words is called hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia but somehow still couldn’t spell “necessary” on the first try.

he was the guy who tripped over air, made obscure pop culture references no one asked for, and had a deeply unhealthy relationship with sarcasm.

so, naturally, when you—actual goddess, the prettiest face in beacon hills, social butterfly extraordinaire—agreed to date him, stiles was convinced he was being pranked.

“she said yes,” he had told scott the night it happened, voice shaking, hands gripping his best friend’s shoulders like he was trying to transfer the shock through sheer physical contact. “she said yes. to me. like, willingly. no coercion. no hostage situation. just… yes.”

scott, ever the supportive best friend, blinked at him. “huh.”

“what do you mean huh?”

“I just—” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking way too amused. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but… dude, that’s y/n.”

exactly.

you weren’t just popular. you are the cool kind of popular. the kind that made people want to be around you instead of just tolerating your presence because of high school hierarchy rules.

you had this effortless confidence, this ability to make everyone feel like they belonged—even stiles, who had spent most of his life on the outskirts of social normalcy.

you are the type of person who could go from hanging out with the lacrosse team and his girlfriends to sitting with the theater kids in the same day, and everyone would be happy to have you there. people gravitated towards you.

meanwhile, stiles had spent most of freshman year trying to convince people that his name was, in fact, not short for “stilton” like the cheese.

It didn’t make sense. and yet, somehow, here they were.

dating you was like winning the lottery, except instead of money, stiles got the incomprehensible love and affection of a literal angel.

which was great.

except for the fact that he had no idea how to be cool enough to keep up with you.

“you’re overthinking it,” you told him one day as you sat in your car, legs propped up on the dashboard.

“I always overthink it,” stiles replied. “It’s literally my defining trait.”

you laughed, and god, that laugh. It was the kind of sound that made people pause, made them turn their heads just to see what could possibly be so funny.

“okay, fine,” you said. “then tell me. what’s running through that giant brain of yours right now?”

stiles exhaled dramatically. “alright, let’s start with the obvious. I am a disaster. you are not a disaster. explain.”

you tilted your head, amused. “you really don’t see it, do you?”

“see what?”

you smirked, leaning in a little closer. “you’re kind of amazing, stiles.”

he blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“you make me laugh,” you continued, like you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his entire worldview. “like, really laugh. you make things interesting. and you care so much about the people around you. I like that.”

stiles stared at you, brain officially malfunctioning. “uh. are you… are you sure you’re not under some kind of supernatural influence?”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. “just shut up?”

and just like that, he realized something insane. you actually liked him.

not just in a “haha, he’s fun to have around” way. not in a “pity date” way. not even in a “this is a temporary thing before I move on to someone more worthy” way.

you liked him. dorkiness, sarcasm, ADHD-riddled brain and all.

maybe he wasn’t as out of your league as he thought.

still, he spent the next few weeks in a state of perpetual disbelief.

he kept waiting for the moment where you would realize you had made a grave mistake and move on to someone who, well… had the ability to walk in a straight line without tripping over absolutely nothing.

but you didn’t.

In fact, you made it very clear that you were, for some ungodly reason, into him.

like, full-on, public displays of affection into him.

which was insane.

because now, not only did stiles have to deal with his own confusion, but also the confusion of literally everyone else at beacon hills high.

It started with a completely normal lunch. stiles, scott, lydia, and you were all sitting together, as usual, while he rattled off some extremely important information about why the original ‘star wars’ trilogy was superior to the prequels.

“you just have to accept that Jar Jar Binks was a crime against cinema,” stiles was saying, mid-rant, when he felt a hand casually slip into his.

he froze.

the table went silent.

you, completely unbothered, just kept eating your fries, fingers lazily intertwined with his.

scott immediately stopped chewing. lydia raised an eyebrow. somewhere behind them, he was pretty sure he heard jackson choke on his drink.

stiles, being the mature and composed individual that he was, blurted out, “are you—did you—was that on purpose?”

you gave him a deadpan look. “no, stiles, my hand just accidentally fell into yours.”

scott made a choked sound that was very unhelpful.

“I just—” stiles floundered. “you’re—you want to hold my hand? In front of people?”

you smirked. “what, do you want me to sign a permission slip first?”

lydia rolled her eyes. “stiles, stop acting like you just won the lottery.”

“but I did,” he said, eyes still wide. “this is like if someone found bigfoot, but instead of running away, bigfoot started dating them.”

you snorted and leaned closer, whispering, “you’re an idiot.”

and then—just to completely obliterate stiles’s ability to function—you kissed his cheek.

the cafeteria erupted.

all right, maybe “erupted” was an exaggeration. but scott definitely lost all ability to contain himself, because he burst into uncontrollable laughter, clapping stiles on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted into his lunch tray.

jackson muttered something about how the world was officially broken.

and lydia? lydia just sipped her drink and said, “honestly, this might be the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

stiles, meanwhile, was still sitting there, trying to process the fact that you had just kissed him in front of the entire student body.

“okay,” he breathed. “alright. cool. totally fine.”

you squeezed his hand. “you’re so lucky I can keep up with you.”

“I strongly agree.”

scott shook his head, grinning. “dude. just take the win.”

yeah.

maybe he should.

────୨ৎ────

now stiles had zero business being on the lacrosse team. he was only there because coach finstock occasionally needed a warm body to throw onto the field, and also because scott insisted that he “needed to be included in the team dynamic.”

that was stupid, because stiles was about as useful on the field as a drunk giraffe.

still, here he was, suited up, trying his best to not die.

you were sitting in the stands, chatting with some of the other girls on the cheer squad, but every so often, he caught you watching him.

why on earth would you be looking at him when there were actual athletes running around?

at some point, coach finstock (in a moment of pure insanity) decided to sub stiles in.

naturally, it went horribly.

he got knocked over in under a minute.

hard.

like, wind knocked out of him, stars in his vision hard.

by the time he sat up, still gasping for breath, he vaguely registered that someone was calling his name.

then, suddenly, you were there, pushing past some of the other students on the sidelines, crouching next to him.

“oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, eyes scanning him for any visible injuries.

“you,” stiles wheezed. “just—taking a quick—dirt nap.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you really shouldn’t be allowed to play this sport.”

“tell that to coach crazy over there,” he muttered.

you rolled your eyes, then—without warning—cupped his face and kissed him.

right there.

on the field.

In front of everyone.

stiles was pretty sure his soul left his body.

by the time you pulled away, he was definitely malfunctioning.

“god,” he managed.

you smirked, brushing some dirt off his jersey. “maybe if I keep doing that, you’ll actually start scoring points.”

scott, who had jogged over at some point, burst out laughing, —again.

“please don’t encourage him,” he told you.

you just shrugged, standing up. “what can I say? I like an underdog.”

stiles, still staring into the middle distance, finally processed what had just happened.

then, very calmly, he said:

“I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

────୨ৎ────

stiles finally gets it. he gets you. 

It took three months of dating before stiles finally stopped expecting you to give up on him.

because the truth was, you could.

but for some ridiculous, unexplainable reason—

you didn’t want to.

and maybe, just maybe, that was the best part of all.

stiles stilinski had exactly one defense mechanism when faced with overwhelming emotional stimuli:

panic.

pure, unfiltered, high-octane panic.

and you?

you loved it.

you lived for it.

In fact, stiles was about 80% sure that her actual favorite hobby—above reading, music, and being generally awesome—was finding new and creative ways to make him short-circuit.

your weapon of choice?

kissing him.

at random.

without warning.

In the most inconvenient and socially inappropriate moments possible.

────୨ৎ────

stiles was already having a rough day.

coach had made him run extra laps for “being a distraction” (which was not fair, because technically speaking, it was danny who had laughed first).

so there he was, post-practice, dripping in sweat, hair a mess, brain still recovering from almost getting hit in the face with a lacrosse ball, when you materialized out of nowhere.

“hey, loser,” you greeted, leaning against the locker next to his.

stiles jumped about a foot in the air. “jesus—you can’t just sneak up on a guy like that!”

you, completely ignoring him, hummed thoughtfully. “you look cute when you’re sweaty.”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—what—who?”

and before his brain could fully reboot, you leaned in and kissed him.

right there.

In the locker room.

With scott and half the team still standing right there.

stiles froze.

his brain immediately short-circuited.

somewhere in the background, he could hear the distinct sounds of his teammates reacting.

jackson made a disgusted noise.

“seriously? right here?”

danny, ever the neutral observer, just snorted. “I mean, props to her, I do love watching stilinski suffer.”

scott, instead of helping, just shook his head fondly. “dude. just accept it.”

you, for your part, just smirked against stiles’s lips, completely unbothered, and pulled away with a satisfied little hum.

stiles, meanwhile, was still frozen in place.

mouth slightly open.

face burning red.

brain? completely fried.

“did I break you?” you teased, poking his cheek.

stiles let out a strangled sound.

jackson groaned. “oh god, get a room.”

you turned to him, smirking. “jealous?”

jackson scoffed. “not even remotely.”

you shrugged, looping your arm through stiles’s. “good. because I’m not sharing.”

and then you walked off, dragging stiles with you—leaving the entire locker room howling in laughter.

────୨ৎ────

stiles had one sacred rule in life:

the library is a safe space.

the library was for quiet and learning and pretending to do your homework while actually texting scott about supernatural nonsense.

the library was not for being publicly humiliated by your ridiculously hot girlfriend.

unfortunately, you did not respect the sanctity of anything.

stiles was sitting at his usual spot—textbook open, pen in hand, pretending to study—when you slid into the chair next to him.

“hey,” you greeted, voice suspiciously sweet.

stiles narrowed his eyes. “you’re up to something.”

you smiled, all innocent. “me? never.”

he squinted harder. “what do you want?”

you tilted your head. “can’t I just want to spend time with my adorable boyfriend?”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—you—stop that.”

“stop what?”

“being cute,” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

you grinned. “make me.”

before stiles could formulate a response, you very casually leaned forward and kissed him.

and not just a quick kiss.

oh, no.

this was a calculated attack.

a slow, lingering kiss, tongue and all—just long enough to completely fry his brain, but not long enough for him to actually do anything about it.

by the time you pulled away, stiles was bright red, gripping the edge of the table like his life depended on it.

“why?” he gasped out.

you shrugged. “felt like it.”

stiles gaped. “we are in library.”

you smiled sweetly. “uh-huh.”

“In a library.”

“yup.”

“where people can see us.”

she leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I know.”

stiles let out an undignified squeak.

and that was the exact moment lydia martin—who had apparently been sitting three tables away—very loudly shut her book and said, “I’m going home. this is disgusting.”

you just laughed.

stiles, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands.

────୨ৎ────

now, there were rules when it came to dating in front of parents.

rule #1: no PDA.

rule #2: seriously, no PDA.

rule #3: do not test sheriff stilinski’s patience.

you had no regard for any of these rules.

stiles had just walked you to the door, ready to say a very normal, appropriate, and respectful goodbye, when you suddenly grabbed his hoodie, pulled him way too close, and kissed him stupid.

right there.

In his driveway.

where his father could definitely see.

and as if that wasn’t bad enough—

the front door creaked open.

sheriff stilinski cleared his throat.

you pulled away completely unbothered, turned to the sheriff, and grinned.

“good afternoon, mr. stilinski.”

stiles, meanwhile, had stopped breathing.

the sheriff raised an eyebrow. “you trying to kill my son?”

you smirked. “not today.”

and then you smiled—like a menace—patted stiles on the chest, and walked off, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.

the sheriff stared at him.

stiles stared back.

after a long, painful silence, his dad just shook his head and muttered, “unbelievable.”

then, he walked inside—chuckling to himself.

stiles, still standing frozen on the porch, groaned.

you were going to be the death of him.

and, honestly?

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[crybabystilinski]

Baking cookies with Stiles Stilinski

summary: baking with your boyfriend

genre: fluff

warnings: establish relationship, mentions of food, making out, eating raw cookie dough (so good), pure fluff,

stiles masterlist

“You promise you won’t cause a disaster?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at Stiles as he stood in your kitchen.

“I am offended that you even have to ask,” he said. “I am a fully capable, responsible, highly skilled—”

“Stiles.”

“—individual who can absolutely handle the delicate art of baking cookies.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You set Pop-Tarts on fire.”

“That was one time,” he shot back. “And also, we don’t have to bring that up every time I step foot in a kitchen.”

You softly smile, handing him a mixing bowl. “Alright, Stilinski. Show me what you’ve got.”

He rolled up his sleeves dramatically. “Prepare to be amazed.”

You watched as he grabbed the bag of flour, tearing it open with a little too much excitement. A cloud of white dust exploded into the air.

Stiles froze. You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh as he slowly turned to face you, now covered in flour.

“Don’t,” he warned, pointing a flour-covered finger at you.

You lost it, bursting into laughter. “I can’t take you seriously right now!”

Stiles sighed, blowing some flour out of his mouth. “This is going great.”

You giggled, reaching up to brush some flour from his cheek. “Alright, let’s start again.”

After Stiles gets clean and manages to actually get the ingredients into the bowl (without another flour explosion), you stood next to him.

“Alright, mix,” you instructed, handing him a wooden spoon.

He took it, staring down at the bowl. “You know, I think we’re underestimating how much arm strength this requires.”

You rolled your eyes, placing your hands over his. “Here, let me help.”

Stiles stilled immediately as you guided his movements, your hands wrapped around his. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the slight tension in his fingers before he can fully into your relaxed touch.

“Uh,” he said, clearing his throat, “is it just me, or is this, like… kind of intimate?”

You giggle. “It’s literally just stirring.”

“Right, right,” he nodded quickly. “Totally normal. Just… stirring.”

You glanced up at him, amused to find that his cheeks were slightly pink. Deciding to tease with him, you leaned in a little closer.

“Am I distracting you?” you asked innocently.

Stiles made a strangled noise. “No! Nope. Not at all. My attention is on the cookie dough.”

You chuckled, finally letting go of his hands. “Good. Because now we add the chocolate chips.”

“Best part,” he declared, grabbing the bag. He ripped it open—only for half the bag to spill onto the counter.

Stiles gasped dramatically. “No! We’ve lost so many good soldiers.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you started scooping the chips back into the bowl. “You’re such a dork.”

“And yet, you choose to spend time with me,” he teased. You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

Once the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the baking sheet. Stiles, of course, found a way to be unhelpful.

“One for the tray,” he muttered, plopping a ball of dough down. “One for me.” He popped a piece into his mouth.

“Stiles!” you smacked his arm. “You’re going to eat all the dough before we even get cookies!”

“I’m just making sure it’s safe to eat,” he said, grinning.

“You are not quality control!”

“Debatable...”

You huffed,“Hands off the dough, Stilinski.”

“Fine, fine,”

“No more sneaky bites, or you’re going to get a stomach ache”

Finally, you slid the tray into the oven and set the timer. As soon as you shut the door, you felt arms wrap around your waist.

“Now that the cookies are safe, can we go back to the part where you were standing super close to me?”

You turned in his hold, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you want to be close?”

Stiles grinned. “What can I say? I like when you pay attention to me.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he said, tightening his arms around you, “you still like me.”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “I guess you’re kind of cute when you’re not making a mess.”

Stiles gasped. “Rude. I am always cute.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fine. You’re always cute. Even when you spill flour everywhere.”

“And when I eat half the cookie dough?”

You sighed. “Even then.”

Stiles grinned, eyes flickering down to your lips, he leans in intertwining his lips against yours. The kiss started off soft, your fingers softly playing with his locks of hair. Creating him to groan into the kiss, his hands playing with the hem of your shirt.

Your vanilla chapstick made his mind go fuzzy. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, your fingers now move, tracing his jawline.

The oven beeped, startling you both.

Stiles groaned, letting his head drop against your neck. “The universe is literally against me.”

You giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out of his arms. “Patience, Stilinski. Let’s get the cookies out first.”

He sighed dramatically but followed you, watching as you carefully pulled the tray from the oven. The cookies were golden brown, the chocolate melted just right.

Stiles grabbed one immediately, only to yelp and drop it back onto the tray. “Ow! It’s hot!

You snorted. “Wow, who could have possibly predicted that?”

“You could have warned me!”

“It’s common sense.”

Stiles pouted,“You’re supposed to take care of me.”

You shook your head, breaking a cookie in half and holding up a piece. “Here.”

He brightened immediately, biting into the cookie you held up for him. “Okay, not gonna lie—this is amazing.”

You took a bite of your half, smiling at the warm, gooey sweetness. “Yeah, we kind of killed it.

Stiles grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. “We make a good team, huh?”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “Yeah, we do.”

an: so tmr im post a seth cohen fic,

[crybabystilinski]

Stiles Stilinski valentine’s day💌💐

✮⋆˙ Stiles would show up to your house and knock on the door before you’ve even woken up. He’s just too excited to spend this whole day that he’s planned. ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙ He’s come over with your favourite breakfast, drink and a bunch of flowers. His bag filled with all your gifts and cards. ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙ The day is a simple day but tailored to you. Your favourite lunch, he’s got it. Your favourite place, you’ll be there. Whether that be the arcade, aquarium or even a museum he is taking you and paying for the whole thing. ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙ Of course he brought you lego to do. A shared interest between you too. The lego flowers were made together. The star wars lego you bought him was built together too. ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙ The day ended in you and him cuddled up in bed watching some movie he let you choose. Eating and drinking your favourite food that he bought you.✮⋆˙

JJ Maybank and Spencer Reid coming soon…

[crybabystilinski]

I would absolutely LOVE to request a buzzcut stiles smut omg😭

If you are comfortable and if this is not too much detail could you write something about Stiles being insecure of his buzzcut thinking it makes him unattractive but when he tells his other bsf/reader she’s like flabbergasted and tells him how hot it makes him and it makes him all cocky. Then he’d probably like ask her is she’s serious and when she says yes finally act on his feelings. Maybe soft smut? If that is okay

HALLELUIAH YES GAWDDDD i love this sm omg

☆

stiles frowns at his reflection. scott is ranting in the school bathroom again, but it's all stuff stiles has already heard before and he's distracted anyway. he runs an absent hand over his short hair before following a still-rambling scott out of the bathroom and down the hall.

it's been getting on his nerves lately, how slow his hair is growing. he thought it was pretty cool at first, until he was slapped in the face with the reality of his best friend getting girls left and right and leaving stiles completely dry. not that it's scott's fault- he's just easy to get jealous of with this kind of thing.

"dude, are you even listening?" scott abruptly stops and whirls on stiles. "you've been dead silent for, like, three minutes."

"yeah, i heard you. but it's a little hard to care about your girlfriend strife when she actively wants to sleep with you. speaking of,"

allison is leaning against a locker, watching scott with a dreamy look. she waves and smiles softly, leaving scott to return the smile-wave combo with a lot less charisma.

"listen," stiles sighs, trying to keep the bite of envy out of his tone, "you probably just need to talk to her. girls love confidence. just, i dunno," he waves wildly with his hands. "do that."

scott squints at him. "i think that might be the worst advice you've ever given me."

"worse than killing derek?"

"possibly. now, i'm gonna go-" scott throws a look towards allison and swallows thickly, "figure that out. i'll see you."

stiles calls after him; "don't be an idiot! remember i'm living vicariously through you right now!"

once scott and allison are far enough down the hall, he rubs a hand over his hair again and huffs. stupid, stupid freshman stiles and his bad hair decisions.

"you're gonna rub right through your skull."

"GAH!" stiles jumps back from you, snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. you laugh at him behind your hand, looking up through your pretty lashes. "jesus, your footsteps are like feathers. i need to put a bell on you."

that makes you frown, shoulder-checking him as you start walking. "you're just not used to anything other than two-left-feet scott mccall. i have perfectly regular footsteps."

he jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the school parking lot, eyeing your choice of shorts. your legs being out is a big plus for his racing mind today.

"hey, you busy today? scott ditched me to go play loverbirds and i don't want to do my homework." he hums, pushing one of the heavy doors open and letting you through.

"hmm, that depends, do you have food at your house?"

"not even a little," he smirks at the almost-yes as you both trot through the empty lot towards his jeep. "that's why we're getting drive thru."

"who's paying?"

"who do you think?"

you cheer excitedly as he unlocks the jeep.

☆

you're sat criss-cross on stiles' bed as he paces, tracking his movement with your eyes. he's on a tangent about scott, actually, and how his decision-making skills are subpar. you're listening intently with a tilted head, watching his hands flex as he talks, and the way his biceps bulge without his flannel on, and how his jawline is so sharp-

"and girls are confusing, y'know? sorry, no offense, it's just-" this catches your attention, making your eyes flit up to his as they dart around the room. "it's just that you're all so... so... what do you guys even want? can't be money, because scott has a girlfriend. can't be personality, because jackson has a girlfriend. definitely can't be looks, because i'm pretty sure greenburg is going out with abby right now."

he sighs and turns on you, taking a dangerous step closer to the bed. his brow is upturned, eyes pleading, lips parted.

"it's this stupid buzzcut, isn't it?"

you blink, just once, before squinting. "what?"

"my hair, it's so-" he pushes a frustrated hand through it, and his jaw clenches. "so not hot."

and when he says it, with his narrowed eyes all sharp and his pink lips pressed together, you think for a moment he must be joking. "...what?"

he turns his glare onto you. "you know what i mean, okay? it's unattractive, it must be. i mean, i go completely unnoticed-"

"wait, you actually mean to tell me you think your buzzcut is ugly?"

stiles huffs, clearly not liking the bluntness of his feelings being laid out. "that it makes me ugly, yeah."

this makes you pause. maybe you're a minority, but when stiles drives his jeep and starts talking fast about something nerdy, you imagine climbing into his lap and making him crash the car. one time you two were arguing while he was in his lacrosse uniform and you genuinely wanted to offer to suck his dick. and even right now, with his too-tight t-shirt and his frustrated face, you want to ask him to take his frustration out on you... in- in a hot way. you may have gone a little far with that one-

"would you stop looking at me like that?" he snips, eyes darting over your whole face and then your body like he's looking for the off switch. you frown up at where he stands.

"like what? i'm just in disbelief."

he rolls his eyes. "like you're gonna tackle me. it's weird, after what i just told you."

"well, maybe i do want to tackle you." oh shit, that was supposed to stay in your head! quick, make it look like it was on purpose! "the buzzcut doesn't make you ugly."

his face screws up in confusion. "well, then, what does it make me?"

"hot."

you both kinda falter, like there's nowhere to go from here. his mouth gapes open and you watch his cheeks grow pinker, much similar to your own. and since you've already dug the hole and he doesn't seem too bothered, you make it an inch or two deeper.

"you're pretty hot, stiles. i mean, you hang around scott and stay in your room, so it's not like you're around enough girls for them to tell you. and you never ask me, so... that's probably why you're unaware."

he gapes at you, a hand going to his hair like it has a whole new purpose to him. "i didn't know asking you was an option...."

"apparently it is." you shrug. your oversized t-shirt and shorts suddenly seem not pretty enough for where this conversation seems to be going, but it's too late to linger on that thought now. anyway, his eyes are on you like sniper lasers... or something... and he takes another step closer to you.

"okay, um... i'm asking you."

you raise your eyebrows. what, he just wants you to lament on how sexy he is? you're not that easy, he's probably going to use that information to chase the skirts of some long, skinny-legged girl at school. besides, there's not even that much to-

"please." he hums.

you swallow, turning your face away from him. "okay, well, you've got the whole secretly smart guy thing going on. and your nose is really nice. mix that with the way your eyes are...-"

"my eyes are what?"

you glance up to glare at his impatience. he tilts his head at you, and you swear you can see a mischievous glint in those stupid, stupid (aggravatingly sexy) eyes. bastard.

"they're, um, provocative. when you're frustrated. or focused." you turn your eyes awayyyy from his reaction, for your own safety. "and your jaw is nice, so. plus your hands-"

"my hands?"

"are you gonna keep interrupting me? 'cause i'll stop." you gripe up at him, but looking back up was a big mistake. his cheeks are tinted pink but his mouth is quirked up into a knowing little smirk, like your embarrassment is suddenly clay for him to play with. yeah, no. you are not getting stuck in this position with stiles. "okay, yeah, that's enough."

"no, nonononono wait." he crosses the rest of the distance to crouch in front of the bed, looking up at you. "i'm sorry. i'm just not used to this. or you, like this." his hand rests atop your knee. "i won't even react. keep going, just a bit?"

you pout and look at his hand as his thumb rubs back and forth on your bare skin. it's warm and relaxing and makes your whole body burn hot when his hand inches up your thigh just barely. you look back up at him, but his face is earnest, promising. you sigh.

"your buzzcut makes you look good."

his eyebrows inch up his forehead.

"really good."

stiles grins.

☆

you're not really sure if you left stiles' house or escaped it, after that. all you know is that last night did some serious damage to your ego... and some serious maintenance to his. as you leave school, your mind replays the series of events and the blush that has been plaguing your cheeks and making you overheat returns.

dammit! you had to avoid stiles all day because of this stupid embarrassment. which proved difficult, since you guys had plenty of classes together and ate lunch with each other every day since forever. you slap your cheeks as you shoulder your way past the school doors and into the parking lot, glancing over at the field where lacrosse practice is in full swing.

your eyes catch on something odd, and coach's voice fades into the background when the image registers in your mind. stiles is leaning on the fence with his helmet in hand, sweat making his skin glow and a cocky look on his face. he's leaned over the fence, chatting up three soccer girls, who all seem very interested in whatever he's saying.

this, unfortunately, does not make you happy. but alas, what are you going to do? pull him away by the ear and chastise him for... talking to girls? you just wish you hadn't said anything about his stupid buzzcut (which looks unrealistically good with his lacrosse uniform).

all three of the girls throw their heads back laughing. and it's not even, like, pretty girl flirtatious laughter. it's loud, and one of the girls slaps her friend's arm. you want to rip the arm off.

but you keep walking instead, because you decided the bus was too much and walking home was the best option. better than standing in the parking lot, staring like a creep as your best friend (who you want to messy-make-out with) finally gets girls (who you want dead).

this is going to be a pathetic walk home.

you barely get to the end of the parking lot when you hear stiles shout your name as loud as he can.

part of you wants to stomp your feet and cry, or ignore him (as if the echo didn't reverberate off of the school building), or flip him off. like a middle schooler. because right now, you don't want to deal with the humiliation of telling stiles (through mumbles and attitude) how hot he is and how badly you want him to fuck you into his mattress, only for him to use you as matchmaker for hotter, more experienced girls.

but you're not a child, and he's still your best friend. plus, his lacrosse uniform.... yum.

jesus christ, you need a drink. there is no way that thought just consciously happened.

you drag your feet walking back, and the soccer girls skip off with their ponytails swinging. stiles is smiling all big and bright when you finally reach him. you are not smiling at all. "you needed me?"

"yeah, i wanted to know if you were coming over tonight." he stands taller than you, and his buzzcut looks so touchable right now, you want to bend him down to your level and run your fingers through it. you blink up at him as you stare, and the silence stretches. his hand comes up to the back of his neck. "uhh, just 'cause i could help you with the homework we skipped yesterday-" he interrupts himself. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine. for both. the homework and the question." you press your thumb into your palm and turn towards the lacrosse field, away from his searching eyes and worried lips. "see you tomorrow, yeah?"

you start to back away from him when he steps forward, the fence catching him from coming closer to you. "well i just- you should come over. i want you to."

"stiles, i can't wait for lacrosse practice to end-"

"i'll skip. they don't even need me." he clenches his jaw when you look back at him. there's a determination in his eyes you've never seen directed at you, and it makes your stomach flip. you've never fell victim to being his prey before, when he wants something so he gets it. the feeling is unrivaled. his lips part. "please."

you can feel your cheeks flush. why does that always have to work on you?

"okay, alright, no need to beg." you nod your head to his jeep, on the far side of the parking lot. "let's go."

he does a subtle fist pump that he doesn't think you see, and hops the fence to follow you, leaving literally everything in the locker room except his car keys. "how was your day?"

you glance up at him, but only for a second when you see how he's staring. all curious and excited, probably from the attention he was getting from those soccer girls. your lips press together in distaste before you even realize.

"it was fine." you shrug, watching as he gets ahead of you to open the passenger door. "got an A on mrs. martin's project."

stiles hums in approval, which may or may not make your lower stomach fizz with butterflies. then he closes your door and makes the short jog to his side, clambering inside. "good job. you hungry?"

you shake your head as he pulls out of the parking lot, doing your best to ignore the vein in his neck when he looks over his shoulder as he backs out, hand resting on your seat. yeah, you totally don't notice that. "no thanks, i'm okay."

"are you sure? i didn't see you at lunch. or english. or-"

"i wasn't feeling well today."

this shuts him up, but not in a good way. you feel his eyes on you, even as he drives, and it makes you squirm a bit. but he doesn't comment on your icy tone, and you drive the rest of the way in silence.

☆

in fact, you're silent all the way up to his room, where you toss your bag in the corner and toe your shoes off. stiles huffs out a sigh and scrubs over his buzzcut self-consciously, tracking you with his eyes as you trail aimlessly around his room and admire the things on his walls.

he's been dying to ask it. he has to. the girls on the soccer team said... he squeezes his eyes shut while you're turned away, repeating what they said to him in his head for nth time. just be honest, and confident. that's what you'd want.

stiles takes bold strides across the room right up to you. he gives you enough room to turn around and face him, but not much more.

"hey."

you scrunch your face up just a bit in confusion. "...hi?"

he clears his throat, his jaw flexing on it's own accord. "the...- okay, when you said my buzzcut makes me look really good-"

"stiles," you scoff and push past him, walking to the middle of his room as a means of escape. "i'm not doing this with you."

"no, wait, doing what?" he scurries around you to face you again, holding you lightly by the shoulders. "waitwaitwait. you gotta let me-"

"no. stop." you're embarrassed, he can tell now. the way you turn your face away and narrow your brow, he never knew he'd be able to read you so well. but he's doing it now, and he's not happy with what he's seeing.

"no, you stop. let me ask you what i want to ask, alright?" he huffs through his nose, and watches as you seem to come to attention. it gives him an odd thrill to see you react so readily when he corrects you. "are you gonna listen to me?"

you glare up at him for a second too long before nodding slowly. he nods too, and in a impatient, annoyed tone, he grumbles: "good."

and then stiles watches your eyes flicker as you fluster much more than he expected. he didn't think much of the words when he was saying them, but here you both are, weirdly into it. he blinks hard to clear his head.

"when you said my buzzcut makes me look 'really good'," he repeats, "did you mean really good to you or to other people?"

he feels you shift your weight by the movement of your shoulders. looking away, you hum, "i don't understand why this is important to you."

stiles narrows his eyes. "yes you do. you know you're into me and you just wont say it."

you snap your eyes to his and take a challenging step forward. "who said i'm into you? just because i said you're good looking doesn't mean you get to use me as some matchmaking machine. i won't inflate your ego just so you can hook up with popular girls, stiles. you can't-"

"i'm not asking so you can inflate my ego." stiles takes a step towards you, making you step back. "i'm asking because i want to know if you were serious." another step. "because i want you to think that about me." another step, and your back hits the wall.

you watch, doe eyed, as stiles brings a hand up to push some of your hair away from your face. his eyes meet yours, but dip down when your lips part. he swallows.

"so," stiles hums, towering over you. "were you being serious?"

stiles watches in awe as your pretty mouth forms around his new favorite word.

"yes."

he half expects himself to tear both of your clothes off and go wild. but his body moves on its own accord; taking your face gently in his hands, kissing you like you're made of glass. when you reciprocate eagerly, he feels his pants start to strain. fuck. seriously? can you please pretend you've had at least some action before?

he can't believe he has to talk his dick down when he's kissing you.

pressing you back up against his bedroom wall, he feels goosebumps rise as your nails rake lightly over his buzz, and it makes him hum. stiles gently removes one hand from the curve of your jaw and slides it onto your hip instead. he loves your hips. he loves them even more when his hands are on them, apparently, because the feeling of it is otherworldly.

what's even better, though, is when your tongue collides with his and you let out a small noise. it's high-pitched and whiney, and it almost makes him finish prematurely. he licks eagerly into your mouth to try and draw it out of you again, but you seem to silence yourself from embarrassment. this does not fly with stiles. his knee draws forward and splits your thighs apart, resting in between them, and he moves down to kiss at your neck. he'll make you whine again, he's sure of it.

"wait," you breathe out. he almost doesn't catch it, too busy with the way your skin feel on his lips and how he has you up against his wall, breathless and pliant. but he pulls back (albeit reluctantly) and meets your dazed look with one of his own.

"what? is this okay? do you wanna stop?" he might actually die on the spot if you want to stop. but he'd do it, for you. his hand massages your hip where he's got you gently pinned, and he watches as it visibly makes you sway (swoon, but you'd never admit that).

"no, no. but, your dad-"

"he's out."

"he could get home anytime."

"we can be quick. we don't have to do anything more than this right now."

"stiles," you're laughing at him. it's airy, and mostly just a teasing smile, but you're still laughing at him. "are you just saying that to get me in your bed? i mean..."

your thigh, which is in between his because of his being in between yours, slides up and presses lightly against his hard-on. his jaw goes slack as the unexpected pressure washes pleasure all over his nerves, and his shoulders bend over for a moment as his hips react on their own. he stops himself, thoroughly embarrassed, and glares at you. you giggle behind your hand, raising an eyebrow. "how're you gonna say you don't want anything below the collar with that going on?"

he pushes your thigh away, shaking his head. "i never said i didn't want anything more, i said we don't have to do anything more. plus, you're the one making the noises and touching me and... so, if anything, this isn't even my fault." stiles gestures vaguely to his dick.

"i'm flattered." you deadpan, before your hand trails from his chest to his stomach. he watches in awe, still half disbelieving that he got you here. you hook your fingers into his waistband and look up at him. "promise your dad wont walk in on us?"

"can you not talk about my dad while turning me on?" he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "swear on my life, you have nothing to worry about."

you nod and lean back against the wall, tugging him by his pants to meet you there. he follows suit, lining his body against yours as he kisses you, hands on your hips with yours running through his buzz. he captures your lower lip in his teeth and gently as he can, and you make another short, high-pitched noise again. his dick twitches in his pants.

"you wanna, um," you suck in a breath as he kisses your neck, "move to the bed?"

"yes," he sighs, and immediately pulls your hips forward and directs you to his bed. when you drop onto it and scoot back, stiles hesitates. your hair is a bit messy, lips are full, and your eyes have a glint in them he's never seen before. he's assaulted with the thought of you being his wife and having his kids and growing old and dying together, and then he blinks it away. jesus christ, you're a powerful woman.

he wants to do anything to make you look like this all the time. needy, pretty, all your insecurities and doubts kissed right off of your lips, even if it's just for a bit. is this what being horny is going to be like for him now? is he gonna be a sap when you want to fuck?

stiles crawls over you slowly, laying you back against his pillows. you're excited and it shows, and you're both smiling when he kisses you this time.

☆

he's a mess for days after, head full of the faces you make when he touches you just right, the noises coming from your mouth when you finish. the feeling of skin on skin, the picture perfect look of you wearing his shirt after. it takes scott about two and a half seconds to scrunch up his nose and make a disgusted face at stiles when he starts thinking it. your beauty is just seeping out of him, like he soaked you up and now every werewolf in a one hundred mile radius can smell the lovesick puppy on him.

you want to go on dates, too. real ones, all the time, and you think he's hot and cute and sometimes pretty, which is confusing to him but he likes it anyway. and he wants to save up his money so he can take you to a fancy restaurant. and he is so whipped.

which he's fine with. as long as it's for you. honestly, he's fine with almost anything, as long as it's for you.

☆

i didn't write smut and i apologize but my writing process is to blackout while my fingers fly across my keyboard like i'm a hacker spy until i come to and there's a story on the screen. so. smut didn't happen naturally so it ain't gonna happen at all, i guess. i dunno. ask writing star, not editing star. sorry i've been so absent, holidays is super busy with extended family and such. wish me luck. xoxo!!!

☆

BONUS!! stiles asks some poor soccer girls for help before you went to his house after lacrosse practice. the advice is... really somethin'.

"hey, um, lily?" he had to guess the name of the girl jogging past, but he got it right. she stopped and approached him skeptically, glancing at her two friends in front of her.

"yeah?" she threaded her fingers through the fence as he strided the rest of the distance to her. her two friends had begun making their way over as well. she had to squint past the sun as she stared at him. "what's up?"

"hi, hey, we have bio together. fourth period? i've sat behind you all sememster?"

her face showed no recognition.

"...anyway, i have a question. actually, i can ask all three of you. since you're, um, girls."

her two friends had approached at that point, and looked equally as put off by stiles as lily did. he cleared his throat and started on his ramble:

"so, let's say i'm best friends with this girl, and i like her. like, a lot. and she's kinda totally way out of my leauge, but we never talk about it because she doesn't see things like that anyway. and one day i get on a rant about girls and how confusing they are because, y'know," he gestured to his face like it was a tell of itself, "and she says that my biggest insecurity- err, physically- is actually really hot. and she says my hands are sexy. and my eyes are seductive. and she's like, kinda blushing a lot? but she blushes anyway about stuff around me so it doesn't really-"

"she likes you." one of lily's friends piped up behind her. "if that's what you're asking."

"are you sure? i'm not her type, plus-"

"dude," sighed the other one. the three girls shared a look, making stiles gulp. "girls don't call guys' hands sexy unless they're dying to have them in their mouth."

"mazie!" lily whirled around to slap her friend's shoulder, which did absolutely nothing to censor her. when she turned back to stiles, it was apologetically. "sorry, but she's got a point."

he slumped onto the fence in relief. "you think so? i want to put my hands in her mouth, if she's asking for that."

"nice." mazie nodded as the other two girls made noises of disgust. ignoring them, mazie continued. "honestly, she probably likes you but thinks you don't like her. especially if you're chatting up three soccer girls, looking like that."

the only girl stiles hadn't gotten the name of nodded solemly, and lily put her hands on her hips, determined. "okay, skinhead. how're you gonna confess?"

stiles smiles awkwardly. "uh, i'll just tell her when she comes over tonight?"

lily barked out a laugh, and her two friends followed suit. it was loud, like three crows making fun of him while they toss their heads back. it ended abruptly, too, and lily glared daggers at him in the silence. "no, idiot."

stiles whimpered a little "oh."

"girls love confidence." the unnamed girl declared, tilting her head. "when i flirt with girls i always make them like, say how hot i am. always gets them going."

"god," lily scrunched her nose, "are you both ovulating? we do not need to know all of that."

"so... what should i do?" stiles blinked at them, and they refocused their attention on him.

"be confident. be honest. that's always a rare, and hot, trait in a guy." lily said, before her eyes roved over him analytically. "anyway, you're attractive. it'll be fine."

"he's attractive?" the unnamed girl said, making all three of them laugh again. lily slapped her arm, and stiles let himself get distracted as his eye caught on someone walking across the parking lot.

oh, it's you.

his body feels a bit warmer, buzzing with nervous energy, as he shouts your name.

☆

[crybabystilinski]

CRYBABYSTILINSKI’S MASTERLIST

teen wolf

stiles stilinski

liam dunbar

other

thomas (tmr)

[crybabystilinski]

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