#Dylan Obrien !

[5sosprincess]

[heradion]

Ya'll remember this cute ass BTS pic of Tyler Hoechlin and Dylan O brien from Season 6B where their umbrellas literally represent their personalities?

Stiles being the rainbow sunshine character/light while Derek has black cat energy/ is the dark grumpy brooding character.

Edit : I can't believe this reached 1000 notes.

[sourwulf]

stiles comes to you after his female anatomy class and asks you to help. he says he’s never even watched torn so has never even seen a vagina, but yours is the first one he winds up seeing and eating out

༄  word count  —  2.3k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  none

⊹  cw  —  smut & oral, losing of virginity

☼  a/n— i have... severely neglected this blog

✎  masterlist

─

you were sitting on your couch watching tv, a root beer flavored sucker between your lips. you were channel surfing, nothing catching your eye. your front door opened unannounced, making your head whip towards it.

after it closed, the familiar face of stiles poked around the corner.

you sighed, glad it wasn't an intruder.

"hey," you greeted. "ever heard of knocking?"

"sorry, it's raining and the door was unlocked. i figured you wouldn't mind."

he kicked his shoes off and walked over to sit next to you, mimicking your position by crossing his arms.

"what flavor is that?" he asked, looking at the stick in your mouth.

"root beer."

"nice."

"so what's up?"

"i was hoping you could help me study."

"as long as it's not math."

"honestly, i kinda wish it was."

"why? what is it?"

"so... it's for my health class. we're doing a human anatomy course for the sex ed unit."

"and you need my help... why?"

"well... it's female anatomy." you raised your eyebrows. "you're the only person i'm comfortable with asking for help on this."

you just looked at him for a second before taking in a deep breath and turning off the tv.

"alright, fine."

within a couple of minutes you were both upstairs on your bed. you sat against your headboard, him laying on his side horizontal across the bed with his assignment in front of him.

so far, it was just multiple choice and fill in the blank questions. he was reading them out, getting your answers.

"what do the ovaries do?" he asked, a diagram of the uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes above the questions, with lines to label each.

"make hormones and contain eggs."

he skimmed the answers, finding the one that fit that description the best.

once he finished that chart, he flipped the page to see a very detailed diagram of a vagina, also with lines pointing to specific parts of it for him to label.

he looked at it for a moment, as if he was really studying it.

"vulva."

"i'm pretty sure that's just an all-inclusive word to include everything."

he circled the right answer

"what is the... clitoris? did i say that right?"

hearing stiles say the word 'clitoris' was a bit weird, but to be fair most people don't really say the full word.

"are you really asking me what the clit is?"

"yeah, what is it?"

you looked at him slightly in disbelief, chuckling a bit.

"come on, stiles."

"what?"

you were dumbfounded. everyone knows what the clit is.

"you've never even heard the word?"

"i've heard of it, i just don't know what it is."

"it's kind of obvious if you're looking at a vagina."

he shrugged. "never seen one. well, other than this drawing."

now this left you stunned. never seen a vagina? how was it possible for a teenage boy to never have seen one?

"you've watched porn, though."

he shook his head. "nope."

somehow he continued to shock you more with every sentence.

"never?"

"never."

"stiles, you're a teenage boy, and you're telling me you've never watched porn?"

"never needed to."

"the clitoris is... it's like a little bud above the vaginal opening. it's full of nerve endings and it's really only there for pleasure purposes."

"huh. interesting. can i ask you a question?"

"shoot."

"does every vagina look like this?"

"what do you mean?"

"like... are they all identical?"

"uh... no. every vagina is different. just like every penis is different. some of them are dangly, some are hairy, it just depends on the person."

"does yours look like this?"

your eyebrows dipped.

"did you really just ask me that?"

"i thought i was allowed to ask questions."

"yeah, general questions."

"that is a general question."

you sighed. "similar. but not really. i mean, they all have the same basic parts. but the anatomy is different sometimes."

he nodded. "wish i could see a real one up close."

it was kind of funny, how he was talking about vaginas like a specimen he could study.

"you will someday." he made eye contact with you and raised his eyebrows slightly. "stiles. you're not implying what i think you are, are you?"

"i mean... i'm not gonna say no."

"i'm not showing you my vagina!"

"that's not what i was asking, pervert," he said in an unconvincing tone.

to be completely honest, you weren't completely against the idea. the best way to learn was to see the real thing, not just a drawing.

you sighed. "fine." his eyes lit up a bit. "on one condition."

"mm?"

"no touching. only looking."

he nodded.

"sounds fair to me."

you could not believe you were fully exposing yourself to him right now, your vagina just out. your upper body was propped up on your pillows, your knees bent and thighs spread with his eyes glued to you.

"and no judging my lack of shaving."

he shrugged. "doesn't bother me."

he was looking at you like it was a book and he was reading every word.

"this is kinda weird, right?" you asked, trying to break the tension. and trying to distract him from the fact that his gaze was causing you to grow wetter and wetter with every second.

"a little bit, yeah."

"so... my vagina is the first one you've ever seen."

"yep. looks pretty similar to the drawing."

a few seconds of heavy silence went by.

"i mean... it's hard to learn when you're not... hands-on." you mentally slapped yourself for how cringey that sounded.

he froze, looking up into your eyes.

"what?"

"yeah, i mean... how are you supposed to learn what the clitoris is if you don't get to see what it does?"

"oh. i don't- i don't know."

"exactly."

"but you said no touching."

"i know what i said. maybe sometimes it's good to... break rules."

he slowly crawled closer to you and you spread your thighs wider. the cold air against your wetness could've given you chills.

"what... what do i do?" he asked, his face only a couple of inches away.

"see if you can find the words on your paper."

he looked over at it. "labia."

he lightly poked your wet lips — not the ones on your face.

"good."

"was that it?"

"mhm. good job."

"clitoris," he said without looking back at the paper.

"you remembered that one."

he looked around for a second before, without warning, placing the pad of his pointer finger onto your clit, making you take in a deep breath.

"that?"

"yep. right again."

"what do you... do with it?"

it was uncomfortable to explain, especially with a face in your vagina and a finger on your clit.

"uh... lots of things. really it's just different ways of touching it and touching it with different things. so, you could go in circles, back and forth, up and down. you can also use your tongue or some kind of toy. it's another thing that just depends on the person, everyone likes different things."

"what do you like?"

"circles, usually."

with a second of hesitation, he began slowly moving that finger in circles. you let out a breathy moan and closed your eyes, but he stopped.

"was that okay?"

you opened your eyes and looked down at him.

"that was good."

"so... what happens? is there like... an end goal here?"

"orgasm. it's how most women have to get there. sex, like penetration, usually isn't enough to get a lot of us there."

"really?"

"yeah. that's why it's important for our partners to do something other than just regular sex."

"so... do you usually prefer fingers or... a tongue?"

"well... me personally, i usually prefer a tongue. i feel like it's just more intimate."

"and what do you do with the tongue?"

"same thing you would with fingers. circles, back and forth, up and down-"

you were interrupted by a warm tongue on your clit, unable to hold in a gasp. he was going in circles like you said to do, and it was like he knew what to do immediately.

it felt good. you looked down at him to see him returning the gaze, a smirk creeping across his face.

"good, just like that, stiles."

you were doing your darndest to keep your hips still, ensuring he did everything right his first time. he placed his hands atop your thighs, making sure they stayed spread.

you reached up and pushed your hair out of your face, fisting a ball of your own hair. you were moaning, which he wasn't expecting to hear the first time he did this.

"you're doing good, stiles. that feels good."

he didn't answer, but his ego grew a few sizes at that. the closer you got to your orgasm, the more he had to hold you still. his arms were now wrapped around your thighs, his hands flat against your belly.

"fuck, okay, i can feel it coming," you said, looking down at him. "keep going, i'm gonna cum."

when you did look at him, it looked like he was experienced in this. his positioning, his hands, his pace, everything screamed 'i've done this a thousand times before'.

he liked this. being able to make you melt with just his tongue was making him hard, but he couldn't help it. your sweet voice moaning his name was like music to his ears, and the closer you got the louder you became.

your fingers tangled in his hair, trying not to pull too hard.

"don't stop, stiles. i'm almost there. i'll tell you when to stop."

he obeyed, not changing a single thing he was doing. if it hadn't have been so obvious, he might not have known you were cumming.

your back arched sharply, you took in a loud gasp, and your legs were trembling.

this was an incredible orgasm. you were perplexed by his skill, as ten minutes ago he had never even laid eyes on a vagina, much less eaten one out. but he was a quick learner, as you'd figured out from all the werewolf stuff.

"alright, stop, stop," you choked out. he immediately pulled away, using his shirt to wipe his mouth. you closed your legs and reveled in your high. your hand covered your eyes and you struggled to catch your breath.

"was that okay?" he asked innocently.

"are you kidding?" a moment later, you propped yourself up on your elbows. "how did you know how to do that?"

he shrugged. "i just did what you described."

"i've had more than one guy go down on me who was experienced and couldn't make me cum at all. that was, what, two minutes?"

"i guess i'm a natural," he joked.

you tilted your head to the side. "c'mere." you spread your legs again and his eyes widened, slowly following your directions. he held himself above you and you pulled him down to kiss you.

your hand trailed down his chest and landed on his belt, the clanking of the buckle making him pull away.

"what're you doing?" he whispered, looking at your half-closed eyes.

"well... i can see you're rock hard. i just figured, if you're losing your oral virginity, you might as well lose the regular one too."

he gulped hard, not moving.

"oh."

you stopped messing with his belt, furrowing your brow.

"unless you don't want to. you don't have to. don't feel like i'm pressuring you."

he shook his head.

"i don't. it's just... i didn't expect this. i wasn't planning on doing that when i came over, and i definitely didn't expect this. i didn't bring a condom or anything."

"i have some." you reached down and cupped his bulge in your hand, which made him falter a bit. "they might be a bit snug, but they'll fit."

he nodded, and you continued unbuckling his belt. when you got his pants shimmied down a bit and he was exposed to you, you noticed how red his cheeks were.

"what's wrong?"

"nothing. just... i don't want to disappoint you."

"stiles, it's your first time. i'm not expecting you to last past the first thrust." you can tell he took that as an insult. "i didn't mean it like that. no guy lasts past the first thrust during their first time. vaginas are different than hands or socks. i want you to feel comfortable with this. i promise i'm not judging you."

he nodded. "okay."

"if you don't want to have sex yet i could always just blow you instead. you might last longer that way."

"no, i want to do this."

"okay."

you reached over and grabbed a condom out of your nightstand drawer and opened it for him.

"want me to put it on for you?" you asked, to which you received a nod.

the feeling of your hand stroking down on him could've made him cum right then and there. but he wanted to wait until he was at least inside of you.

the feeling of his tip pressing into you was magical for both of you, and once he was fully nestled into you, he pressed a deep kiss onto your mouth.

he didn't move for a moment, wanting this to last as long as possible.

he was a nice size, not small by any means but not the biggest you'd had. he was perfect.

"you okay?" you whispered, pushing his hair off his forehead.

he nodded, the redness in his cheeks spreading to his chest. he slowly pulled out, and let out a loud, shaky moan with the next thrust. him laying his forehead against your chest let you know that he had cum, his arms trembling a bit.

when he looked at you again, he chuckled.

"what?" you asked.

"lasted past the first thrust." you both laughed at that, and you kissed him again. "next time it'll be better."

"next time?" he nodded. "when will that be?"

he thought for a second. "give me a couple of hours."

[myrandomteenwolfbullshit]

Derek: I can't believe I'm about to say this... but we need to rescue- *gags* Stiles: Uh-? Derek: we need to-dry heaves* Stiles: you-You don't have to say it. I- Derek: No no. I have to do this. We need to rescue pee-*loud gag*  Stiles: Derek, painfully: We need to rescue PETER FUCK Stiles as Derek bends over breathing heavy: Proud of you. I know that wasn't easy for you  Derek: I feel sick

(source)

[dietcokeangel2004]

Stiles Stilinski

I will stop being sarcastic when you stop being stupid

[teenwolfpackincorrectcaptions]

Stiles: "You smell like leather, aggression, and bad decisions." Derek: "And you smell like sugar, anxiety, and the need to shut up." Stiles: "Wow, that’s poetic. Put that in my eulogy after you inevitably get me killed." Derek: "Gladly."

(source)

[dcangel]

kinda hyper-fixated on riding stiles and calling him a big boy at the same time.

because this man boy would sit there underneath you, bottom teeth scraping at his upper lip as he tries to contain his pretty whimpers that kept escaping him. his fingers gripping, digging into the pudgy fluff of your hips and thighs. “y’so tight.”

your nails scratched at his v-line, deep red lines being left by pretty maroon nails—his favorite colors. “jus’so fucking big, sti…” you breathed out, “such a big boy, hmm?”

“mm-mhm.” he whines softly. stiles couldn’t believe how turned on he was by her dirty words, by how much he wanted to please her. who knew such an innocent, doe-eyed girl could spew such filthy words from such a pretty mouth.

you couldn’t help it, with the way he was stretching your walls and pressing those oh so good spots inside you that your own fingers couldn’t reach, how were you supposed to maintain that ingenuousness?

his nails burrowed into your soft skin, leaving little crescent shapes. his eyes were glued to where he disappeared inside you with each bounce and thrust. the wet squelching noises were squalid, and most times he couldn’t hear much else. only when his view was obstructed by your face did his pull his eyes up to meet yours. you flattened yourself against him; your stomach on his, and your breasts resting on his chest. to stiles, the feeling of skin-on-skin contact was worth more than words. it was the only thing that could bring him back to this planet after you overworked him.

you smiled when you saw those gorgeous brown eyes of his finally connecting with yours. “there we go.”

stiles was overwhelmed; you were on top of him, giving him so many sensations, so many things to touch or relish in. he couldn’t choose. you leaned down to darken the fading hickey right at the base of his neck, having given him one in that spot a few days ago. you simply didn’t see a point in letting it fade. he might as well have gotten it tattooed if he wasn’t so afraid of needles.

a deep-purple mark bloomed right over the spotty red one, and you made sure he would still be able to hide it with his flannels for a few days. your thumb wiped the spit from the bruised skin so you could get a full view of your work. stiles knew he’d be admiring the mark in every mirror he passed by, thankful that it was only one tug of a shirt collar away.

your hips rocked against his, not even pulling up anymore. you just loved the way his tip grazed your cervix—like scratching an itch only he could get—and how your swollen clit ground against his lower abdomen.

“you’re so perfect,” his words came from a place deep in his mind, so breathy, so pussydrunk, “i love you.”

knowing stiles didn’t even care for a response in return, not that he’d even be aware of one, you kissed his swollen lips (both his and your doing) to bring him back down to earth, even if only for a few seconds. you thumbed over the plush skin, purely admiring your boy, feeling both proud of and admirable of his prevailing state.

“you’re so good, sti.” the words weren’t really meant as a praise for him. rather, you said it because you genuinely meant it. “my big boy. fillin’ me up so well.”

you swore you saw something behind his eyes malfunction. his cock twitched inside you as he grasped at your hips, unintentionally taking control for just a few seconds so he could move you back and forth, his dick slapping against your spongy walls. your fingers pressed into his shoulders as you clung around him like a vice.

stiles was whimpering desperately and hastily, each one interrupting the next. it was so refreshing that stiles wasn’t afraid to let those sound freely flow from his pretty mouth or be loud for you. he didn’t care if his noises weren’t deep and guttural, although they certainly could be at times. and you favored either or depending on who was taking care of who; his whiny whimpers and soft moans coming out when he was desperate and being especially needy, or his low, throaty groans and praises when he needed to show you how much he loved you.

“i—shit,” he whimpered, high pitched and needy like you adored. “f-fuck,” stiles groaned deeply. it was so broken up, his voice so cracked, so desperate that it sounded like he was pleading. not pleading for a release, but pleading for forgiveness. you quickly felt his reason for pleading spill inside you: warm and thick.

“sorry, sorry, m’sorry.” stiles’ breaths were reduced ragged gasps as he clutched your waist, his arms finding their home around your body. “love you so much.”

you bit your lip at the gushing feeling flooding your already-filled hole. “hmnn, stiles.” you felt him bury his face in your neck, sweaty skin on sweaty skin as he murmured apologies and compliments of how good you feel.

it was moments like these that softened your heart even through such intimacy; moments where he came without warning or any signs, where his forehead nestled perfectly in the curve at the base of your neck, where he was reduced to muffled, strangled whines and sometimes apologies if he could muster them. and all because of a few words—of course with the help of being inside you, but you were sure you could probably just make him come with your words alone.

somewhere along the way of your cunt throbbing in time with his milked cock, and slowly lifting your hips only to drop them back down lazily, you found your own sweet release. stiles was slightly overworked, slightly overstimulated, but this was such a perfect sight in your eyes.

you took a peek down at where the two of you connected, and a thin, white-ish ring was formed at the base of his length. each time you lifted yourself up, strings of milky white liquid kept another physical attachment with him. the build up was definitely worth it in its own way, but the release was divine. as always, though. stiles, even when he may not be completely all there in the moment, always knew how to send you hurdling toward what you swear is the best orgasm each time. he’s definitely fought you before for who had the better orgasm, ending in round twos all the way to round fives. how you two managed to make it that far was a damn mystery as well as a miracle.

but right now, you were only focused on your boy—your pretty boy, and the alluring noises seeping from those pink, kiss-bitten lips. “’love you more, pretty boy.” you halfheartedly chaffed.

his response was the reason for the returning gibes: a small muffled whine of some muddled words. and stiles never failed to live up to any nicknames or unserious expectations you tauntingly gave him.

[silentmacabre]

I am a sucker for this man wielding a weapon (and this man only)

[anishfics]

Dylan O'Brien is giving it his all 🥵

[mysticallystilinski]

FEELING [ stiles x fem! reader ]

desc. STILES CAN’T KEEP HIS HANDS OFF YOUR BODY

has : SMUT 17+, fingering, very clingy stiles, tit sucking, tit playing, sub!reader, heavy teasing, whimper!kink.

“please stiles”, you moan out as he rubs against your body. it has been days since he has even came close to touching you. it was an understatement on how badly you needed him. his large hands run up and down your delicate body. he grinned in excitement at any little whimper that comes out of you.

“be patient”, he whispers in your ear. his heavy breath coming that close to you was enough to make you cum. you had no articles of clothing taken off you quite yet, but you knew soon enough he would have to cave in. you push off his torso and place your feet on the cold floor.

you lower your hands to the rim of your shirt, and proceed to pull it off in a quick flash. stiles sat on the bed, practically mind blown at this sudden boost of confidence. you walked closer to him as you heard his breathing pattern get quicker.

stiles had a certain feeling that you were putting on a false show. he tugged onto the waistband of your pants, and pulled you closer in between his legs. he looked up at you with those soft brown eyes. “why are you acting like this sweetheart”, he groaned out. your words got caught in the back of your throat as he slowly stood up and placed you to the side.

he looked down upon you in lust as you scanned his large figure. his brown eyes almost certainly turned to black as he grabbed your shoulders and sat you down upon the bed. he now stood above you while you were in the opposite position as before. he got onto his knees, and slowly ran his hands up and down your thighs.

“stiles please, don’t tease”, you practically whimpered. he interlocked his fingers into your waistband, and slid the soft flannel pants down your legs and to the side of the bed. he was now approached with your light red panties. he slowly moved his head toward your core, took his mouth and dug his teeth upon them.

he smirked as you looked down onto him in waiting. he lowered his head as the panties followed along with him intertwined in his teeth. he dug his fingers into your things as he made his away along your silky legs. he reached the bottom and discarded your sweet panties. stiles mind filled with all the things he wanted to do with you. he thought first about fingering you, then slowly moving onto other things.

he lifted his head up, and saw your facial expression. it was a mix of impression and excitement. your smile lit up the room as stiles started to giggle as he got closer to your heat. he used his large hands to spread your thighs apart, and lowered his head closer. his fingers untangled your thighs and moved to your throbbing pussy.

he slowly inserted one finger, then heard a gasp for air. you whimpered as his long finger headed deeper inside of you. he took it slightly out, and inserted one more finger. your head was thrown back in pleasure as he slowly pumped both fingers in and out. you felt him get closer to you as his fingers continued to glide in and out at the perfect speed.

your body filled with tingles as he increased his speed. one hand was gripping your boob, while the other was heading inside of you. you quickly moved and scrambled as his fingers hit just the right spot. he slowly used the hand on your boob to play with your nipple, slightly pinching it for a pleasurable feeling.

your body was feeling hot and heavy while stiles slowly talked you up to an orgasm. “you’re doing so good y/n”, he spoke. you gasped in shock and pleasure when he said those five words. “please cum for me”, he groaned out. you saw his eyes focused on your wet pussy when he looked up and smirked in a devilish way.

he held eye contact with you as he spoke softly, “baby you look so good taking my fingers.” your head filled with the things he was doing to you, and how good it felt. your core tightened as you felt the moment coming. he hit your g-spot one last time, and you collapsed. cum overflowed out of you as stiles latched his mouth onto your pussy.

he sucked up all he could, and gripped onto your thighs with both hands. you saw him look up at you with his lustful eyes. his tongue delved all around your area as he grinned. he lifted his head and moved his body so that he was on top of you. he lowered his head to your boob as slightly used his tongue to head around the area of your nipple.

stiles couldn’t help but groan as your body smelled sweet. his tongue clenched around your hard nipple, and you moaned out in peace. he slightly chuckled at your noise, but still was focused. he unlatched his mouth, and slightly placed his lips onto yours. he pulled back, “i want you to taste yourself.” your eyes widened but you complied as he stuck his tongue into your mouth. your eyes got heavier as he slid his hand up your bare body.

he made out with you to help you release some tension. you felt on cloud nine as your soft lips intertwined with yours. he removed his lips, and slowly smirked. “what are you up to stilinski?”, you groaned and rolled your eyes.

“round 2?”

[luckypunklemonade]

Temptation Greets You

| Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. Stiles comes across a small dosage of pollen out in the woods.

[smut MDNI 18+; sex pollen; 3k words] Stiles Stilinski

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

He was so fucking stupid. “You are so fucking stupid.”

Going out into the Beacon Hills Wildlife Preserve was a regular occurrence for Stiles, but you always expected them to be at least a little bit careful. You’d have thought that he’d turn back and plan for more research when Stiles stumbled upon a freshly abandoned coven ritual ground with suspicions of black magic. No, he needed to poke around and take notes without checking his surroundings or prioritizing his own safety. Stiles picked up a mortar and pestle, underestimating the powdery substance left inside, and brought it up to look closer. The wind picked up the powder, blowing it into Stiles’s face. After the initial panic, he called to tell you. The threat of a powdered drug was skeptical as the powder was a deep blue. You rambled off a thousand excuses or hopes of what it could be. Less harmful things like spirulina or a kind of dried starch, something weird but harmless that witches use. Stiles had only inhaled a small amount, but you knew that amount of a particular drug could kill in minutes. You didn’t want to risk it.

Your car was haphazardly parked halfway off of the trail. Your coat was halfway on as you rushed over the uneven ground, imagining the grief tonight would be with a broken or sprained ankle. Stiles was sitting on a tree stump, elbows resting on his knees. You step closer to get a good look at Stiles. It had been 20 minutes. That’s how long it took for you to get to the wildlife reserve in your car. He looked fine. A little tired, but he rolled his eyes as you rotated his head in your hands. “I’m okay. I feel fine. You were probably right.”

“We have to get you to a hospital. It could be-“

“It was probably that stuff you said.”

“Spirulina.”

“Yeah, witches use stuff like that all the time.”

You tried to get a better look into his eyes, but he pulled away from your touch. You thought his pupils looked blown. You fussed over him to get him up and walking. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“No-“

You grabbed his keys from his pocket before he could finish and herded him out of the woods toward the trail. Stiles went silent, walking in front of you awkwardly. He really did look fine. 

He only started having trouble breathing when you were on the trail back to the main road. You cursed and sped up, headed to the hospital, grabbing your phone to call Melissa when his hand grabbed your wrist.

“Pull over.” 

“We’re going to the hospital, it’s—“

“Pull over.”

“No, you could be-“

“It’s not a drug, not like that. I knew it wasn’t- I shouldn’t have let you- I didn’t think it was enough.”

“Stiles, if it wasn’t a drug, what the hell was it?”

“Please just pull over.”

“It’s not fatal? Will it hurt you?”

“Please.”

The crack in his voice and the way he pushed his head against the headrest and squeezed his eyes closed shifted your attitude from panicked to empathetic. You pulled the jeep off the trail and parked it, still buzzing with anxiety as his breath came out almost violently. He breathed like that in between fragments of his thoughts.

“I did some research about the coven.”

He kept his eyes closed, and his hand gripped the Jeep’s door handle tight.

“The blue powder wasn’t a drug. It- I couldn’t tell….”

He seemed beyond embarrassed; his ears were red. “It’s an aphrodisiac derived from a mix of herbs and flowers. Pollen. The members of the coven use it for various holistic purposes but mostly in rituals to gods of fertility or prosperity. They mix it with water to create a paste and-“ 

He winces, leaning forward and harshly thumping his head against the dash and resting it there. You reach forward out of pity. 

“Please don’t.” He takes a deep breath and continues, “They make markings, they…fuck, whatever. You need to- I should…” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He opens the Jeep door and stumbles out. You yell his name, but he turns around. “Just leave the woods for a few hours. Come back at dusk. I should be better.” 

“Stiles, if it’s an aphrodisiac, why is it hurting you?”

“This- God, it’s not- aphrodisiac is a simplification; if I don’t get some sort of…of release, it’s gonna keep hurting. It’s gonna get worse. I’m not gonna be in my right mind. I need you to just go home and come back in a few hours, okay?”

“I’m not gonna leave you out here, hurting in the cold woods for a few hours, Stiles.”

Stiles actually whimpers. It’s like the sound of you saying his name hurts. Or something else. 

“I won’t be able to think straight, just drive. I’ll be okay. Don’t call anyone. Don’t tell Scott or Isaac. I’ll figure it out. Just go.” The words are starting to seem taxing, hard even to say. He begins to walk into the trees. You think about how hard it’ll be to find him in the huge wildlife preserve. For a minute, you consider leaving him. He’s done the research; he’s been out in these woods alone before and gotten home okay, but he wasn’t under the influence of anything then.

You get out of the Jeep and walk around to the passenger side, where he had walked off the trail. As soon as he hears the door shut, he turns, the sight of you out of the vehicle making him throw his head back in frustration. He yells, and it stops you in your tracks. “Get back in the Jeep, just get back in the fucking Jeep!”

And he’s walking toward you. He’s almost scary, his voice a little unrecognizable in such a low register. You do; you get back in and yelp a little as he reaches the passenger door. He presses his palm to it, almost hitting the metal. He looks utterly desperate, upset, frustrated—scared, even. “Please, just…just stay inside. Just..”

Stiles leans his forehead against the door, shoulders heaving up and down. His pleas fade. Before they become silent, though, his tone shifts from “Please stay inside” to “Please help me.” He mutters softly, no longer even speaking to himself and, if you weren’t listening hard enough, to no one. “I need..” he says breathily, pathetically. 

He moves to lean against the front bumper, resting his forehead against the cold metal. You crank the window down just slightly and speak in a small voice, “Stiles?” 

He doesn’t move. He just keeps sucking in air and huffing it out. You’re worried now. It’s not what you thought. He looked like he couldn’t breathe, and his fists were clenched, his head buried in his arms on the cold hood of his Jeep. 

“It’s cold, Stiles. I can’t leave you, just…just get in, okay?”

“I can’t- not you.”

“What? Stiles, if you need help, we can figure it out. I’ll find a witch or something, just-“

“You can’t help me. The only thing…”

You remember his words. He needs some kind of release, aphrodisiac, understatement, et cetera. “Stiles. Let me help you figure this out. I understand. Please get back in the Jeep.” 

And then, you unlock the vehicle and pop the door open. It swings wide, and he looks up. He looks a little scared, a little worried. His eyebrows are knitted together painfully, his shoulders heaving up and down, hot breath leaving his airways visibly in the cold. Stiles shakes his head.

“I understand. Let me…let me help. I can-“

He’s slowly walking around the door, hands still in clenched fists and breath labored. “I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I can help. I know what you need, and I know it hurts. Just let me help you.”

“Not you…Not like this.”

“Come here.”

His eyes flutter, and he takes a few steps toward the car, toward you. Your hand touches his shoulder, and he whimpers. His hands moved quickly, grabbing the seat lever and pulling it back. The back of the seat fell, lying flat, catching your attention until you looked back at Stiles. He was hefting himself up into the Jeep toward you. You didn’t realize he was herding you into the back until you were sitting on the reclined back of the passenger seat. His arms, after reaching to shut the door, spanned wide. One hand was on the driver's seat headrest, the other bracing himself against the interior. It made him look bigger. He looked hesitant. “You don’t know what you’re doing…I don’t even-”

“It’s okay. I can…help. I can help.” Your hand reached up to bring his down from the headrest.

“I can’t…not to you.”

“Well, I’m not leaving you, and I want to help.”

His eyes scanned the Jeep, taking in the cramped space. His eyes seemed unfocused, the effects worsening. He didn’t speak as he pushed your shoulders down, cradling your head as you lowered. He planted his knees on the sides of the seat, hooked his arms around your thighs, and pulled you down by your hips. He looked desperately up at you, trying to convey an ask but failing and giving you the most pleading look you’d ever seen. You breathlessly nodded, and he dramatically dropped his head onto your chest in relief. His hands immediately gripped your hips, but they were restless and curious, and needy. He watched as his own hand relaxed and kneaded the denim-trapped skin of your hips as if he didn’t know what his perverted hands would do next. His other palm leveled, and his fingers parted, relaxed from fists, and moved slowly, experimentally up your ribcage under your shirt. The entire time, his face looked guilty—upset, even.

“I should’a brought you.” His voice is distracted, but he means it. “You’re so careful.” His eyes are glued to the way his hands line your curves, up and down, but his words are genuine. When his short-lived need to just touch you was gone, he closed his eyes in shame. He needed more. 

He presses himself against you, eyes hardening in intense and conflicted emotions, and his hands squeezing and grabbing at you mindlessly. It would be pathetic if he weren’t so completely driven. He still wasn’t saying much, kneeling between your legs as he bent them at the knees and pushed them up and out wide to make room for himself. Once he does, he’s pressed into you again. You think the warmth between you is only something you notice, but Stiles groans and rests his forehead back against your chest again, even if it takes some craning of his neck downward. His forehead was burning up, and the sheen of sweat, while thin, made him almost glow in the early-setting winter sun. You can feel him hardening in his jeans. It was impossible to ignore, especially when he started rocking against you.

His hands retreated from your hip, from the seat beneath you, holding him up, to unzip his jeans. His mind is foggy, you can tell because his hands shake and struggle between his zipper and yours, not knowing which to focus on first. You softly reach down and unzip his jeans. His hands pause, and you look up, making debilitating eye contact, and you think he might pass out. He’s sweating, shaking, silent. All things your Stiles isn’t usually—or at least not all at once. Of course, he’s never seen you like this, conversely. Underneath him and willing to let him—rather—wanting him to touch you. 

You jumped when he scrambled to get your jeans undone and yanked down—or up. Up your legs in your position. Everything about this made Stiles want to whine. You, how close you are, how long he’s wanted you, the position he’s got you in, what you’re gonna let him do, where you’re letting him do it. In his Jeep, out in the woods off a secluded trail. He wanted to speak, to make this perfect like he wanted. How he imagined when he was in his room mumbling your name and pumping his hand as if it was yours. But he was so damn impatient and it hurt and you were so willing. He spoke softly and barely intelligibly as he pulled his jeans and boxers down just enough and your underwear to the side, “M’gonna make it up to you, ‘kay? When I don’t need it so bad, I’ll make it good.”

You couldn’t respond before he’s got his tip pressed against you, and he’s pushing forward. It’s too late to stop him to ask for the mercy of preparation or caution and the sound you let out is proof. It’s an open-mouthed, guttural gasp as if he knocked the wind out of you. He stops once he can feel you completely envelop him, and he almost collapses on top of you. He felt a sense of relief, a scratch to the itch of the substance, but he could feel the discomfort of it saturating again. Two times worse now that the release was wrapped warmly around him. He was still, though. He stopped as soon as you made a noise of pain, even though his hips twitched. He looked up after telling himself that if you looked the least bit upset when your eyes found him, he’d stop even if it killed him.

But before he could find your pretty eyes, you clenched around him. It was an encouragement. More so torture when he was so sensitive. He moaned and resorted to broken rambles, some of which were not even audible. “Please-‘

You told him to move and he didn’t rock back as you had expected, only forward more, burying himself fully into you. His breath fanned across your ear as he was so close on top of you, the sound of his breathing laced with whines and moans as you satisfied the twinge in his stomach. Then, he set a slow pace. Somewhere, his need to be close intensified, and he looped his arm around your head, ushering your face softly into his shoulder as he pushed his hips into yours, trying not to focus on how quickly the release would come if he didn’t care about hurting you. Eventually, he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up, his other hand holding your hip down. The hand cradling your head held you tighter, more secure as if you’d break. You made small noises that punctuated his thrusts, each of them gripping his conscience as harder than he should be handling you. 

“I’m so sorry,” He choked out against your hair. “Feels so fucking good, I’m sorry.”

He was unsure of how much pain he was causing. All he could tell was you were taking away his pain. You just moaned into his shoulder as he sped up against his better judgment.

”I was so irresponsible, I was so stupid, I’m sorry-“ He moaned as he drove himself deeper. It matched the one you breathed out in response as well. 

He couldn’t be sure at first, but he thought he felt you press your lips against the fabric stretched across his shoulder. As he felt the vibration from your lips as you strained out another moan, he was certain. The small act being something he was too impatient and hazy to do, but something he wanted to give you made him squeeze his eyes shut, his climax on the horizon. Chasing harder, his words were almost cries, “Thank you.’

”For letting me do this- thank you.” He moved his head so he wasn’t facing away from you and began sucking messy kisses into your neck. They were somewhat controlled, but he needed to communicate his gratitude in a way that wouldn’t betray how unintelligible his thoughts were.

“I’ll be more careful. I’m so sorry, I’m- Thank you. Fuck-“ he’s cut off as you clench around him again. He doesn’t know why, but you do. The sounds of his whines sent you nearer and nearer to your ruin. In your ear, mixed with his moans and utterly desperate. Amplified by his need from the pollen.

His breathing stuttered in time with his hips, and his fingers tightened in your hair. He frantically pulled himself away from you, pulling out. The last rational decision he could make before tipping over the edge. When he came, his whole body tensed, and he let out a breathy whine. He breathed heavily and desperately in your ear, whining out, “Thank you.” Due to the amount of the pollen he’d consumed, he felt satisfied. Relieved. It felt as if he’d been waiting weeks for it. His arm gave out, and he laid himself on top of your chest.

“Thank you,” He pressed a long kiss to your collarbone, lazily letting his head fall down. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve-“

He’s too tired. Presumably crashing hard from the powder. Your hand comes up to his hair, gently running your nails over the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. “Mh- Stiles, look up at me.” 

Your focus was his eyes, but it was too dark to see. He sits up at your command and pulls his jeans up quickly, turning to help you. He pushes your hands away, tugging your pants up and buttoning them back, his hands gentle. 

He’s crying. You hop down from the jeep. The sun had set, and the temperature quickly dropped. You awkwardly get out, turning back with your phone flashlight to check on him, and he’s silently crying. You gently tilt his head toward you, focused on his health first. Once you’ve made sure his eyes look fine, you hold his head to look at you without the light. “Hey.” 

He looks down, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“But I did, as soon as I-“

“Well, it happened, okay? How do you feel?” Your hands brush tears away from his eyes.

He describes how he feels, coming down from the sort of ‘high.’ His eyes fill with new tears but you lean forward to his confused surprise and kiss him, assuring him with a new, soft tone of voice. “I’m glad it happened.”

(Read pt. 2!!)

[ruerecs]

WHERE. ARE. THE. NEW. STILES STILINSKI FICS?!?!?!

[bellzsad]

honestly in the movie it’s not the “please, tommy, please” that gets me, it’s the “it’s okay… it’s okay,” from thomas

[dylobilysmomg]

Motel Fever

𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺: 𝗧𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗸𝗶 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀: 𝟯.𝟭𝗸

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪! 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 (𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝗽𝗻𝘃, 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗢𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁: 𝗦𝗻𝗮𝗽 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗢𝗳 𝗜𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗗𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻’𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲. 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴! 𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 (𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝘁𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀!) 𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗧𝗿𝗲𝗲. 𝗡𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗟𝘂𝘃 𝘆𝗮!!

𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗳!

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan from beside Allison, taking a look at the disaster coach calls a motel.

“I’ve seen worse.” Scott says, and I scoff. “Where have you see worse?” Stiles replies, rolling his eyes. I pull my jacket closer to my body, trying to shield myself from the wind the storm brings.

The track team circles up as Coach speaks up. “Listen up! The meet’s been pushed til tomorrow.” There’s a groan that comes from just about all of us in unison at that. “This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of…degenerates like yourselves. You’ll be pairing up, choose wisely.”

Me and Allison walk up and grab a key from Coach, checking out the number and practically stomping to our room. Scott and Stiles close behind us.

“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants, got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!” Coach shouts as everyone makes their way to their rooms for the night.

“I can’t believe this. How much you wanna bet we wake up to a cancelled track meet tomorrow.” I complain, approaching our motel room, which is oh so conveniently right next to Scott and Stiles’ 𝘖𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.

I stop at the door, waiting for Allison to unlock it, but she’s taking her sweet time chatting it up with Scott. Stiles whips past me, brushing my shoulder.

“Hey Stiles, will you and Scott do me a favor and keep the moans down tonight. I would rather not listen to you two get in on while I get my beauty sleep.” I taunt him, leaning against the door, burning time while I wait for Allison.

Stiles halts his actions of unlocking his door to turn to me, “Didn’t you hear the coach, Y/N? ‘𝘕𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.’ Or is that word too big for you? Need me to dumb it down?” He jabs and I scoff in his face.

“Oh I heard him all right. I just wonder if you did.” I counter, watching as he scoffs, tongue poking out to glide over his teeth.

“We’ll be quiet, Y/N/N. Besides, I don’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep; God knows you need it.” He says, and before I can come up with a comeback, Allison is coming up behind me and unlocking our door.

Scott passes us both and bypasses Stiles into their room, “Sleep tight, Y/N.” Stiles sneers before disappearing behind Scott.

I join Allison in our room, shutting and locking the door behind me. “I hope you don’t kick in your sleep, or someone’s gonna sleep on the floor tonight and it won’t be me.” I say, looking at the single bed in the middle of the dreary room.

“About that…” Allison says, her face already completely giving away what she’s about to tell me.

“Allison,” I warn her, and she trots in front of me with pleading eyes. “Would you do me a huge, huge favor and switch with Scott tonight?” She begs, and I’m completely and utterly in shock.

“You cannot be serious. You want me, to share a room, a 𝘣𝘦𝘥, with 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴?!” I try to wrap my head around the idea of having to survive a night with Stiles Stilinski. Yeah right, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.

“Yeah, no, no way in hell!” I shout, hands flailing in the air. “Have you even met me?!” I ask, baffled that she’d even think that I’d ever agree to such a thing. “I mean? have you even met Stiles?! I can’t stand him for more than a few seconds, let alone hours!” I exclaim.

“Then don’t stand him, sit on him instead.” Allison says, the tone in her voice suggestive. I scoff, “Yeah right, me and Stiles? Never in a million years.” I say, the idea completely out of the question.

“Oh come on, Y/N! You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife! You guys just need to fuck and make up.” Allison tries to convince me, and I’m trying to deny the pit in my stomach that tells me she might be right.

“Allison you’re crazy. There’s no tension between Stiles and I.” I answer, rolling my eyes. “Oh please, Y/N! Please, please, pleaseeeee!” She begs, not backing down.

I groan out, “Alright! Alright! But you owe me big time for this.” I finally give in, and Allison pounces onto me to give me a tight hug.

“Y/N you won’t regret this, I’m texting Scott now.” She says giddily, and I change into my pajamas while we wait for Scott.

After a few minutes, there’s a knock at our door, and I open it to reveal a just-as-giddy Scott McCall. “Y/N,” He greets me with a tight lipped smile. “Scott.” I answer, brushing passed him and out the door.

It’s dark, rainy, and cold outside. I stand in front of Stiles’ motel room, shivering in my pajama shorts and matching t-shirt. I knock. No answer. I knock again. Still nothing.

“Stiles I know this isn’t the most pleasant arrangement but it’s freezing outside, please let me in.” I plead, my teeth chattering. Still nothing. Nothing but the howling of the wind and the drops of rain.

I sigh, sliding my back down against the door, sitting down on the cold cement. I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself as I shiver.

Then suddenly, the door is pulled open without warning and I look up to see a half naked Stiles. “What’re you doing?” He asks, looking down at me as I scurry up and onto my feet. “Waiting for you to let me in, dumbass. It’s cold out here.” I chatter, pushing past his naked upper half and into the room.

The room is ice cold, not any better than outside in the elements. Stiles rolls his eyes coming back into the room and locking the door behind him.

I turn to him to ask why the heater isn’t on when he beats me to it. “Yeah, well, the heater is broken to shit so it’s not much better in here.” He answers my unspoken question. I shake my head, sitting on the bed, head in my hands. “This cannot be happening right now.” I complain, more to myself than Stiles.

“You wanna complain some more, Y/N? Since you’re so good at it.” He jabs, padding to his bag, digging through it. I scoff in response, and it’s then that I look up and take real notice of him frame. 𝘏𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He says, pulling me out of my daze. “Whatever, get some other desperate girl to be your paparazzi.” I reply, digging into my bag for my phone charger, but it’s nowhere to be found.

Stiles goes into the dinky bathroom to change, coming out to me huffing and puffing. “What is it now?” He asks irritated, emerging from the bathroom in plaid pajama pants and a navy blue t-shirt. “I think I left my fucking charger at home.” I groan, checking my phone percentage. 12%

He chuckles, getting snuggled into the single bed and plugging his phone in, rubbing it right in my face. He turns his phone to the side, putting on some tv show. I grab my bag off the bed and drop it to the floor, “Make some room will you?” I push his feet from above the covers, and he scoots a millimeter to the side.

I curse under my breath, jumping into the bed and shoving him over some as he watched his phone. “Jeez, Y/N/N. If you wanted to get in bed with me that bad you should’ve just said so.” Stiles quips, and I pull at the cold blanket to cover myself.

“Oh please, get over yourself. You’re the last person I’d ever want to be in bed with.” I roll my eyes, getting out my phone to distract myself from him until it inevitably dies.

We’re laying shoulder the shoulder. He’s holding up his phone as he watches Supernatural, and before long my phone is dead.

I set my phone on the nightstand to my right, then turning over to lay on my left side and watch his show. My face is millimeters away from his broad shoulder, and he turns his head to me, peering down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, attention split between me and the phone. “My phone died, and I like Supernatural.” I say, my eyes flick from the screen to him.

“You like this? Scott hates it.” He says, turning his face back to his phone. Is he starting a normal conversation with me? What universe is this?

“Of course Scott hates it, he hates all things 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭.” I say, wiggling magic fingers in his face. He chuckles, “Yeah, guess it’s too close to home for him. I like it though, I like to think we’re like them.” He says, comparing him and Scott to Sam and Dean.

“So which one are you? Sam or Dean?” I ask, giggling. “Which one do you think I am?” Stiles ponders, his attention fully turned toward me by now. “Definitely Sam,” I answer confidently, “he’s my favorite.” I add, my eyes suddenly avoiding his own.

There’s an awkward silence for a moment before Stiles breaks it. “Awe, so you like me more than Scott?” He pokes fun at me, and I roll my eyes. “In your dreams, Stilinski. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you unless the situation was dire.” I counter, rolling over to my back, his phone long forgotten.

He turns it off, setting it on the nightstand on his side. “See that’s where you’re wrong.” He says, and the tone in the chilly room shifts. He sits up to almost hover over me. His face the closest it’s ever been to mine, and I can’t help but flicker my eyes from his to his lips and back again.

“I think you wanted this. I think you want me.” He says, voice huskier and hushed. “Stiles…” I can’t think of a witty response, I can’t think about anything besides his lips, and how impossibly close they are to my own.

“Say it. Tell me, Y/N.” He demands, a veiny hand dipping under the covers to slink down my thigh. My mind is running a hundred miles a minute, short circuiting.

“Awe, fuck it.” I whisper, more to myself than him, closing the gap between us. Our lips connect in a searing kiss, and my hands shoot up to his neck, pulling him down to me.

He growls into my mouth, moving to now completely hover on top of me, my legs instinctively opening to make room for him. His arms prop himself up over me, and my hands explore his body, moving to slide up and under his shirt. I slowly push up his shirt til his sits up, pulling it off in one swoop.

He’s so fucking hot. My hands dance along his slightly defined abs, speckled like his face. “Like what you see?” He taunts, leaning back down over me to assault my neck with his lips. “Oh, bite me.” I snip, and he nips at my throat in response.

Stiles trails his nimble fingers up my shirt, but I stop him, pushing his chest until he’s off of me. I push him over to his back, straddling his waist to be on top. I settle myself into his lap, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I pull my shirt up and off my body, revealing myself to him. The cold nips at my now half naked frame, nipples perking up and gossebumps cover my body.

I shiver a little, “It’s so cold in here, Stiles.” I whisper, and he snakes a hand up my waist and all the way up to my neck, pulling my face down to his. “Don’t worry, baby,” He whispers seductively, “I’ll warm you up.”

Our lips meet once again, tongues fighting for dominance. I grind down into his lap, his boner prominently poking me beneath his pants. He moans deliciously into my mouth as I do so, hands slipping into my shorts, groping my ass.

I moan as he rocks me in his lap, “God, why did we wait so long for this?” I whispers, looking up at me with those auburn eyes. “Because we hate each other.” I answer breathlessly.

“I could never hate you, baby.”

Then he’s forcefully pushing me back over, hands dipping into the waist band or my sleep shorts, pulling them and my panties down in one go. He places a palm on each of my knees, spreading my legs apart. I’m now fully bare and at his mercy.

I moan in anticipation as he methodically kisses up my thigh, getting close and closer to my dripping heat. He then brings a finger to swipe through my folds, my slick covering his digit as it glistens. “All this and I’ve barely even touched you.” He taunts me.

“Stiles please,” I beg, but he’s not ready to give in just yet. “Please what? Use your words.” He says huskily. “Please Stiles, please touch me.” I plead.

Stiles licks a stripe through my folds, sending shivers sound my spine. His mouth attacks my heat, his tongue working wonders. Stiles is like a starved man, feeding on anything and everything he can get his hands on. Feasting upon me. He sends me over the edge almost immediately. My hands shoot down to his head, gripping his hair til my knuckles turn white.

Stiles detaches his lips from my clit, sitting up to his knees and standing up off the bed. He drops his pajama pants to the ground, before zipping over to his bag to retrieve a condom from it. He rushes back over to the bed, pulling his boxers off in an instant, kneeling onto the bed in front of you as he rolls the condom into his think length.

My fists grip the bed covers, watching as he lines his swollen tip with my entrance, teasing me with it. “Stiles,” I moan, and he slides himself in completely.

He hisses as he does so, burying himself to the hilt. “Fuck, Stiles.” I moan out breathlessly. Stiles thrusts are hard, his rhythm unbearable. “Yeah, you like that?” He whispers, leaning down to me ear. His voice deep and husky, full of lust. His lips dip down to nip at my throat. “Yes, Stiles.” I moan, and I feel him smile against my kiss peppered skin.

“Awe, fuck.” Stiles drawls out into my ear, sitting up to his knees, still fucking me, his rhythm perfect. “Say my name.” He orders me, his hands gripping my hips as he pistons into me. I can barely take it.

Of course I do as he says. I moan his name, eyes rolling back, my mouth hung wide open as moans spill out of me. He slides a hand to my cunt, his thumb moving to circle my clit. He watches with hooded eyes where we meet as he fucks me senseless.

“Say it again.”

“Stiles.”

“Again.”

“𝘖𝘩 Stiles.”

“Yeah, you getting close? Do I fuck you that good? Say it.” He seethes, his dirty words rattling in my head. I’m breathless, the cold room now unbearably hot. “You fuck me so good, Sti.” I moan, the ball in the pit of my stomach tightening with every touch of his. His hand gripping my hip. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust. His thumb pressing to my clit.

“Yeah? You like that, baby.” I can’t take it anymore. “Stiles,” I moan, my limbs restless, I can’t stay still. “Tell me.” He says, leaning down over me to envelope my lips in a wet, searing kiss. I moan as he parts, “I’m gonna cum, Stiles.”

“Then do it.”

I obey his every word, my release washing over like a wave. My back arches into him, and Stiles buckles down, chasing his nearing high. I’m just about to tell him I can’t take it anymore when he cums, spilling into the condom. His brows furrowing and his mouth agape. He lets out the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard, I never want it to stop.

He pumps a few more times, riding out his high. “Oh, fuck.” He whispers, slowly pulling out of me. I moan as he does, partly in pleasure and partly in pain. I’m sore now, I can’t even imagine how sore I’ll be tomorrow.

Stiles gets up from the bed, he quickly discards the condoms and pulls his boxers on. He pads to the bathroom, and I lay there for a minute not sure of what to do. I close my legs and watch as he comes back with a damp rag.

He comes back to me, kneeling on the bed in front of my closed legs. “Open.” He says, placing a hand on my knee to pry them open once more. He cleans me up, and I’m completely and utterly in shock. Did he really just do that? What have I been missing out on?

When he’s does, I sit up so our faces meet, and I peck his kiss swollen lips. “Thank you.” I whisper, and he hums in response, kissing me once more.

As he goes to the bathroom to put the rag away, I gather my scattered clothes from the floor, and I’m slipping them on as he comes back, hopping back into the bed.

It’s at this point that I’m not really sure what to expect now. Are we never gonna talk about this again? Are we just gonna hate each other and fuck on the side? I’m nervous to get back in bed with him.

“Come here.” Stiles mumbles, laying his arm out for me. I crawl into bed, snuggling into him. “Do we still hate each other?” I whisper. He says nothing, reaching om his other arm over to his nightstand.

“Here.” He says, handing me his phone charger.

!𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎!

“Jesus Stiles, turn it off.” I grumble, his alarm blaring in my ears. Stiles is dead asleep, how he’s able to sleep through his excruciating alarm? No idea.

I reach over him to grab his phone, hitting the snooze button. But before I put it down I see a text from none other than Scott, at 12:31 AM.

𝙎𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩 𝙈𝙘𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙨

𝟏/𝟐𝟕/𝟐𝟒

[myrandomteenwolfbullshit]

Derek: i got you a present Stiles: *eyes narrowing* is it my birthday?? did you kill someone? break something of mine??? are you dying??? Derek: no it’s not anyone's birthd--wait, wouldn't you know if it was your birthday? Stiles: dude i don't even know what month it is Derek: . . . moving on, if I killed someone, YOU would be giving ME a present, and if I broke something of yours I would be fleeing the country rn, not five feet away. Stiles: true Derek: Stiles: Derek: anyway. here. this is a kindle. it's like an entire library on one device. has a lot of free books, but it's hooked up to Peter’s account so you can buy whatever the fuck you want and it doesn't matter Stiles: hmm. *takes the kindle and raises a brow* but the question is, does it smell like a book? what about that, huh? *sniffs kindle* Derek: *shit-eating grin* Stiles: Stiles: bro why the fuck does this smell like a book? Derek: Stiles: how?

[sevenratz]

people in the mountains.

mountain people.

that's your plan?