#Stiles Stilinski fanfiction

[little-miss-alone-n-in-love]

I feel like stiles would be into being a secret dom. He definitely thinks it’s so hot that every one of his friends thinks his gf is in charge when in reality he has her drooling and whining every night.

And I just know this man is HUNG and no one would ever guess, he wouldn’t flaunt it or anything but this man definitely has big dick energy.

I have to agree! He loves seeing his girl get all the attention and appreciation. "Let them think what they want," he says in his mind, smiling a few feet away as he plans how the night will end for her (she'll be bent in half and unable to form a sentence).

Personally, I think that Stiles is a switch, but when he lets his girlfriend get on top and "take control" he's still the one who's guiding her hips and whispering words of encouragement to her. He likes having influence over a situation and making decisions.

As for his massive package, I genuinely believe that Stiles has watched so much porn that he doesn't know what classifies as a big dick. He just thinks it's normal because that's what all the pornstars have. What he imagines is a big dick is absolutely ridiculous and unrealistic, probably even impossible.

The first time they had penetrative sex, her eyes went wide at the sight of him. He didn't understand why and tried to brush it off, saying, "Don't worry, it'll go right in. It's average."

She looked at him like he was crazy, because he was, and still is. No matter how much she tries to convince him that he's enormous, he just shakes his head. His modesty is almost admirable, but his stubborn attitude shines through, almost driving her crazy.

Thank you so much for your submission! When I first read this, I smiled so big and had to take a deep breath... 💜

[samdeancass]

Sarcastic Stiles

Pairing: Stiles x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Characters: Stiles, Y/N, Scott, Derek

Description: As usual, Stiles gets the both of you into trouble when his sarcasm begins to play a part in a dangerous situation.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears from the speed you were running. Looking back, you noticed that there was no one behind you and stopped, leaning on your knees to catch your breath. “I’m gonna kill Stiles.” Running footsteps sounded behind you and you glanced back, feelings of both relief and frustration washing over you as Stiles emerged from the corner. 

He ran up to you and gathered you in a hug before dramatically leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “What?” Raising your eyebrows, you rested your hands on your hips. “You know exactly what! Did you really have to throw your bat at them?! We were supposed to be doing recon, not angering the bad guys!”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders before leaning up straight against the wall. “They were plotting something, something that I assume wasn’t good; and I needed to do something.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head at your boyfriends idiotic actions. Looking up, fear panged in your chest as you noticed one of the guys heading straight towards the two of you. Walking back, you grabbed Stiles’ hand, which also alerted him to the situation. You both quickly turned and ran the other way before another guy headed towards you. You were cornered in the back streets of Beacon Hills. 

Stiles turned his back to the wall and tucked you behind him protectively. With his body shielding you, you were able to hit the speed dial on your phone to call Scott. “Hey guys, how’s it goin’?” The two guys looked at each other and laughed. “Why don’t you tell us, smart guy? Since you and your little girlfriend were spying on us.” One of the guys made eye contact with you but Stiles moved so the guys’ sight was only on him. “All I know is that you were planning something bad and we decided to stop you. Y’know, before you ended up tearing apart the town we call home?” 

A feeling of relief washed over you as you heard Scott answer the phone. “Y/N? What’s going on?” When you didn’t answer, you could tell that Scott knew that your plan had gone a little sideways. He whispered into the phone that he was gonna use the GPS on your phone to find the both of you and hung up. Throughout the phone call, you realised you missed the other guys telling all about their genius plan. Your heart dropped, though, when Stiles answered them. “Seriously, it took you about 10 minutes to tell us that? I’ve aged, like, 80 years since talking to you.” You knew that his mouth would get you in trouble one day, and it seemed like that day was today. 

One of the men lunged forward and grabbed you from behind Stiles and held you tight to his body. A wave of nausea washed over you as you felt the mans breath on the back of your neck. “Now why would you bring such a beautiful girl like her to a horrible place like this? It’s like you’re asking for her to be taken.” The man’s breath fanned over the side of your face as he leaned down and ghosted kisses on your cheek. Tears fell down your cheeks as you struggled against him, but he strengthened his grip. Stiles lunged forward but was grabbed by the other man. “Get off her! Y/N, baby, look at me, everything’s going to be alright. I’m so sorry I got you into this.” The man holding you grabbed rope from his pocket and bound your hands behind you before tightly tying a gag around your mouth; with the other man doing the same with Stiles. 

You began to fight back as the men began leading you both to the end of the alley where a van was waiting. “Stop fighting!” He slapped you across your face, leaving you dazed. Stiles shouted through his gag but it was no use. The man slung you over his shoulder and rushed towards the van, throwing you inside causing your body to fall hard. Just as the other man was about to throw Stiles in, a loud growl sounded from down the alley, followed by a harrowing sight of blood red eyes. “Fuck, he’s here.” The man holding Stiles pulled out a gun and held it to his head. “You come any closer McCall and we’ll blow his brains out.” Scott’s eyes turned back to normal and emerged out of the shadows with his hands held in surrender, but with a smirk on his face. Another growl sounded from on top of the van. The man turned with Stiles and was faced with Derek, who leapt at the man, causing him to let go if Stiles. Stiles ran to you inside the van to wordlessly make sure you were ok as Scott began to attack the other man. 

You both sat inside the van listening to the attack going on outside and breathed a sigh of relief when the attack stopped and the men ran away. The two werewolves jumped into the van and untied you both. Stiles gathered you in his arms and placed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so sorry, baby.” “What the hell happened guys?” You raised your eyebrows at Scott. “I’ll give you one guess.” Scott gave you a knowing look. “Stiles and his big mouth again.” He shook his head and helped you both out of the van with Derek coming out last. 

Stiles held your hand as you both walked back to Derek’s car. “I swear I will never be sarcastic in a situation like that again, especially if you’re with me. I never want to put you in that situation again.” You nodded and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s just get home and forget this ever happened.” He smiled in response as you both gathered in the back of Derek’s car, relieved that the situation was over. 

Teen Wolf Tags: @bxoken-heartss​ @redcoatgirl​

[itsjustrosee]

Let me take care of you Void Stiles x fem!reader

Context: Stiles and reader are in an established relationship, however reader doesn't know that Stiles got possessed by the nogistun (sorry I don't know how to spell it) and is now void.

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut, cursing, and a lil bit of somnophilia (everything is consensual tho dw👍)

this one is prolly my freakiest one yet. so I hope yall enjoy

Stiles layed next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder you slept soundly, your side pressed next to his. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed circles into the soft cotton material of the shirt he had lent you last night.

His bed covers were sprawled haphazardly over the bed, barely covering you, leaving your legs completely bare and exposed to him. The only other piece of clothing you had on other than his shirt were your panties.

Stiles couldn't help but take in your peaceful appearance, the soft noises you made as you slept, and how cute you looked next to him. He slowly swiped a loose piece of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear as he admired your features.

His hand eventually made its way down to your thigh, his fingers barely ghosting the surface as he caressed your soft skin. He didn't want to risk the possibility of waking you up, but the urge, the need to touch you was too powerful. The desire to feel you took over his mind, clouding his better judgment as his fingers made their way to your inner thigh.

He watched your face, making sure to not wake you as his fingers continued to trace into your skin, his touch getting dangerously close to your panties. He tried his hardest to not wake you up as he slowly opened your thighs for better access.

Eventually, he made his way to your core and he began rubbing you over your panties. His touch was gentle and soft enough to where he didn't wake you up, yet your body still subconsciously reacted to him.

You couldn't help but let out a small hum, the action making Stiles turn his head back to face you. You were still asleep but now your eyebrows furrowed slightly and your lips were parted. Seeing the slight pleasure on your face despite still being asleep ignited more hunger within Stiles.

The pressure of his middle and ring finger slowly increased against you, causing your arousal to grow. Stiles kept his other arm still slung around your shoulder, making sure that you were as close to him as possible as you gasped out occasionally.

Stiles could no longer resist the urge to feel your skin on him, he craved you and so that meant he was going to have you.

He slowly slid his fingers under the soft and thin material of your panties, putting slight pleasure on your clit, the pleasure of it making your eyes flutter open.

"S-Stiles..." You breathe out, your heart rate already beginning to quicken.

"Shh baby... just relax," He cooed, leaning his head to your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he spoke. His words were soothing and tender, creating a stark contrast between his desire and lust-filled strokes on your core.

He ran his long slender fingers through your folds, allowing a soft moan to escape your mouth as pleasure consumed you. He felt as you arched your back, your need for more friction only causing Stiles to increase his pressure on you.

As he continued rubbing circles into your wetness, he removed his hand from off your shoulder but kept it wrapped around your back as he moved it down your side. Once he found the hem of your shirt, he slid his hand under it, his fingers snaking up your bare skin and to your breast.

He cupped his hand over it, squeezing it gently as he suddenly slid a finger inside of you. You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a moan before you throw your head back, Stiles took this opportunity to latch his mouth onto the crook of your neck.

He bit down on you before sucking and biting the skin, the quick feeling of pain turning into pleasure that soon gets doubled as he shoves two of his fingers inside you.

Stiles sent all of your senses into overdrive as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling at just the right part inside of you to make you moan out in ecstasy. He put his thumb on your clit and slowly messaged it as he quickened his pace and began kissing his way up your neck, making his way up to your ear.

"You're doing so good, princess," He whispered into your ear as he continued to grope the soft, warm flesh of your breast.

You feel heat stirring in your stomach that threatens to pool over as he continues to push his fingers in and out of you, his speed increasing at a rate that has you writhing beneath him.

He moves his hand from under your shirt to your face, taking your chin in his fingers as he tilts your head to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. He kisses you with a hunger and desire that you've never felt from anyone else.

You part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to plunge into your mouth and taste every bit of you. The kiss is sloppy yet filled with passion as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, adding more pressure to your clit with his thumb, making you moan into his mouth.

You finally pull away, catching your breath as his actions draw out soft moans and whimpers from your mouth.

"Stiles I-I'm close," You can barely whimper out as stars flood your vision.

"Cum for me baby," He said breathlessly, his pace relentless as he drives deeper into you.

With one final thrust, your walls tighten around his fingers as you finally let out your release. Waves of ecstasy come crashing over you, Stiles' pace slowly inside of you as he helps you ride out your high. The pleasure is overwhelming as you lie next to him, your chest rising up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Stiles plants one last kiss on your lips before he pulls his fingers away from your throbbing entrance. Bringing them up to his mouth, he parts his lips and sucks them clean, tasting your juices with a satisfied hum.

"Fuck, you taste so good," He mutters under his breath before he pulls your panties back on and tugs you closer to him. "You're always so good for me, aren't you?"

You let out a weak hum in agreement as you melt into him once more, completely surrendering yourself to him. His strong arms wrap around you tightly, and his lips brush against the skin of your forehead as he kisses there once more.

"That's it, baby, just relax," Stiles says, his voice low and husky, looking at you with darkened eyes. "I'll take care of you,"

[star--stilinski]

at first, stiles didn't even notice it. the way his heart would race and his cheeks would flush; he was used to having that reaction around you. so used to it, in fact, that he had stopped letting it be a distraction. you'd giggle at his joke or look up at him through your lashes and he'd blush, fidget, move on. like his own little routine.

what got distracting was when he had made the sudden realization one day: you're hot. 

the two of you had been friends for so long, crushing for almost that whole time, that by the time stiles looked up and saw you in your bikini, it was too late to turn back. he was a goner.

literally-he was out of lydia's backyard and in her half bathroom before you could even ask him to help with your sunscreen.

holy shit. he gripped the sink, glaring at his flushed reflection. get yourself together, perv. so she's got nice tits. really, really nice tits and thighs that could suffocate you and jesus her hips-

no! nope, no no no nonono. it is way too early for this. get real. she's seen you recite the entire opening crawl of the force awakens. she is not going to do that with you- woah! or that! get it together. get it together. get it together.

and so stiles marches back out where you and your friends are gathered, playing marco polo. you glance at him and smirk in that way the tells him you're totally cheating, only proven true when allison calls out "marco!" and you slide past her in the water without joining in the choruses of "polo!"s from all over the pool.

stiles stiffens. your goddamn smirk. 

this is going to be a loooong day.

☆

and it was. a long day that ended in his right hand wrapped around his cock and a fantasy he wouldn't repeat even if there was a gun to his head. 

but that was over, and it was three days later, anyway. the pack was meeting at the movies to see a new romcom, which the girls were excited for, and the guys were... hoping it had a good soundtrack. it's not that they didn't want to go, it's just that their time- well, stiles' time could be better spent on things like useless research and avoiding his homework. that was his mindset walking into the theater.

now, he's about three inches from having no mindset at all. you're sat next to him, too close for him to remember a single detail of the movie, and you're wearing a tank top. low cut. lace trim on the top. prettiest color he's ever seen.

and stiles can see straight down it. 

every time he glances over at you, whether it be an excuse of reaching for the popcorn or making a joke or listening to you talk, he has a view down your top right to where your tits are pressed together, rising and falling subtly with each breath. he wonders what the smooth skin of your breasts would look like covered in hickeys. he imagines the sounds you'd make if he had you pinned down, mouth enveloping your pert nipples. he-

he gets up a little too hastily when he rushes out of the theater, into the quiet hall.

"god," he mumbles, tugging his own hair. "fuck."

he has to will his blood to cooperate before he can show his face again.

☆

it's getting worse. 

stiles is chewing on the cap of the marker he has in his hand, eyes darting all over his murder board.

"wouldn't they hunt in packs? this fable here, it reads... stiles?"

stiles turns on his heel, watching you now as you sit on his bed. he's been avoiding looking at you lately, since just recently he had a close call when you hit your knee on scott's coffee table and whined a dramatic 'ahh', leaving stiles to imagine that noise, that face you made in other scenarios.

it's been harder (ha, ha, yeah, no pun intended. he's struggling.) since you asked to come over and help with some research he was doing after a meeting with deaton. you sat all pretty and focused on his bed, twirling and tucking and sometimes tugging your hair when you read out of a book he had borrowed (stolen) from the argent's.

so when he looked at you now, it was with great mental strength. especially when you started rattling off a really smart point he didn't think anyone else would notice that he had realized twenty minutes ago, giving him some time to zone out and watch as you gather your hair behind you, tying it up in a ponytail while you look up at him through your lashes. giving him a second to imagine you looking at him like that with your lips wrapped around his cock, letting him guide you by the ponytail-

stilinski! great. mental. strength.

he turns back to the murder board and nods, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the familiar heat spread all over and his jeans get tight. "yeah, that's- i know, that's a good point."

he hears you shift, the way you get noticeably quiet. "stiles, are you... is everything alright? you seem off."

he shrugs, nods, shrugs again. swallows. "yeah. just a bit tired, that's all."

he can feel your disbelief, but he'd rather feel that then disgust. you both sigh at the same time, and the evening moves on.

☆

it's pretty much every time he sees you now. he's a mess, unable to choose between relieving himself and willing his dick to cooperate. you've made a mess of stiles, and he's dying.

you're wearing leggings today, talking to scott while stiles watches from the bench. coach is barking orders at a couple of stray lacrosse boys, and stiles is lucky enough to have dodged his attention this evening.

game night is usually when he's free of the hold you have on him, too busy gnawing on his goalie gloves and tracking scott across the field. but you and allison showed up early (curse scott and his happy relationship), so his pea-sized brain has time to imagine sliding the buttery fabric down your legs, kissing exposed skin as he goes. he'd definitely pay close attention to your thighs- he thinks about those more than he'd care to admit, and he's aware of how idiotically insecure of them you are. 

because of his train of thought, he doesn't realize you've caught him staring until it's too late. you're prancing over excitedly and leaving scott to smirk at stiles all knowingly, and stiles resists the urge to flip him off.

"you gonna play, 24?" you nudge his foot teasingly with your own. he looks up at you and feels those telltale signs as he fanaticizes about tracing the line of your jaw with his finger, both of you panting softly as he coos at you while you whine pathetically. he has to blink away the thought before he can speak.

"um, i hope not. it's an important game." he leans back a bit and you tilt your head, clearly mulling over your next words. he fills the space in the meantime. "but if i do, i'll be sure to keep away from the ball."

it's music to his ears when you laugh. finally, finally he's blushing about something normal, having regular fantasies instead of these hormone fueled pornos that seem to be on repeat in his head lately. he smiles up at you and you take a small step closer to being in between his legs.

"i don't mean to bring it up so randomly..." you avoid his eyes, fiddling with your hands. "but i was just wondering if i've done something to upset you?"

he blinks. "what?"

"it's just that you've been distant and honestly, you're acting kind of like you're allergic to me. if i did something or there's something going on just tell me. it's kinda driving me crazy." you ramble, brows drawn together in discomfort. 

stiles' eyes widen and he shakes his head, standing. his heart skips a beat when you have to tilt your chin up a bit to keep his eyes. "no, of course not. i didn't know... i guess i've... it's just-" he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. how is he supposed to explain this? 'oh, hey, girl i've been super into for a pathetically long time, i've been imagining what you'd look like if i pinned you to my bed and drove us both insane from a sex marathon! that's cool, right? not objectifying at all!'

you frown, crossing your arms. "just tired?"

it's bait, he knows it is. the same excuse he used less than a week ago to keep you from figuring him out. you're a clever girl and he's stupid when he's horny, so he has to play his cards right here. if you think he's lying, things will only get worse and there's a hefty chance you'll distance yourself. but if he tells a lie a little too well, you're going to be around him constantly again. either way, he's starting to wonder if he's a masochist from the amount of pain he's going to inflict on himself.

"it's nothing, really. i didn't mean to get distant." he clenches his jaw as he gauges your reaction, which is a less-than-ideal-but-not-terrible pout. he wants to smooth the lines of your forehead with his thumb and make you laugh again, but he has to focus. "let me make it up to you?"

you turn your face away (very, very not good) and huff. "no, don't worry about it."

stiles cringes internally and bites the inside of his cheek. how can he un-dig this hole he's in? "no, no, i want to. i shouldn't have made you worry. that's my fault. i'll pick you up tomorrow, we can get food. my treat."

you turn back to face him, and the way your bottom lip just barely juts out tells him you're playing it up, but he doesn't mind. he's come to realize that you like to feel earned, and he's more than happy to earn you. he takes a breath, eyebrows raised. "what are you thinking?"

you drop the pout (much to his relief, he was just starting to imagine you using that face on him when he makes you tell him exactly what you want him to do to you) and put your hands on your (perfect, sexy) hips. "i'm thinking that if you didn't mean to get distant then it was subconscious, and it's going to be more of an effort to be around me than not."

so clever. god, you're so hot when you use critical thinking skills. 

stiles sighs and shuffles a bit. "yeah, okay, i can understand where you're getting that but it's wrong-"

"but it isn't. you've been proving it right all week and-"

"hold on, no i haven't, i've just been-"

"-you definitely lied to me in your room a few days ago-"

"-there's no way you're actually believing-"

"STILINSKI!" coach's voice booms over both of you, halting the beginning of an argument that probably would have only turned stiles on more. he whips his head around to where the entire team is gathered, and realizes he was so wrapped up in you that he tuned out everything around him, including the team rallying together to talk strategy before the game started. he blinks, distantly hearing you mumble a mortified "oh." and skitter off, leaving stiles to be completely embarrassed alone.

"would you like to join us or are you too busy harassing the young ladies in the general area?" coach's tone is strung with impatience, eyes wide.

"ah..." stiles glances to the spot you just stood in and then back to the team. "no, coach, 'm coming."

"fantastic." he drawls, before turning back to the team and continuing his rant. stiles is half-listening, half-daydreaming about 'making it up to you' in many different ways, positions, and places. for many hours.

yeah, he's dead. for sure. you're killing him.

☆

although making it up to you currently involved a lot more clothing and a lot less begging, stiles was having a really good time. sat in his room, arguing about book to movie adaptations, both of you holding your own milkshakes. with all his time spent avoiding you out of... sex-driven fear? he really forgot how much he enjoyed your company.

"you wouldn't get it," you shake your head stubbornly as he stands and sets his milkshake on his desk so he can use the dry erase board in his room. "you don't read books."

"i do-"

"yeah, i don't count the bestiary."

"that's besides the point, anyway. i don't have to read the book to know whether the movie is a good adaptation or not!" he starts writing down movies he knows are heavily based off of books while you crawl across his floor to his desk, sneaking a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. he's too busy to notice that the half-melted treat dribbles off of the spoon and spills above the cut of your tank top (the same one as the movie theater, actually) and onto your exposed thighs.

"fuck." you hiss under your breath. stiles turns to see what caused your quiet outburst, but his brain screeches to a halt at the sight of you.

perched on your knees, you're glaring down at the mess that's been spilled on the top of your tits and thighs, white sliding down to the line where they're pressed together. stiles doesn't even blink, just stares with a slightly open mouth at the sight of you. a small noise leaves his mouth and he can feel the tent in his sweats, but he's a bit frozen.

you look up when he makes the strangled grunt, looking caught with his milkshake in your hand, as if that's his issue right now. "uhh... whoops? i swear, it just flew into my hand! how crazy is that...."

your joke trails off as you really see his face. his eyes are dark and hungry, almost predatory as they sweep over your body, hanging on the spills that you made. his mouth shuts and his jaw clenches. his hands are curled into restrained, white-knuckled fists. and...

he's hard as a fucking rock.

it's easy to tell, with his grey sweatpants, and you feel your mouth water at the sight.

"it's fine." he mumbles, voice dry. you take a second before you realize he's talking about the milkshake. both of you are bright red. you force out a breath and he seems to come to, turning back around quickly. "uh, s-so, harry potter-"

"is that because of me?" you blurt, getting hotter in the cheeks every second.

"is... oh. um, i'm sorry, sorry, fucking shit-" he's not facing you.

"stiles."

stiles quiets, turning to face you finally. your stomach swoops and you shuffle barely closer. his adams apple bobs.

"yeah. it... it is"

that's it. a simple confession, but it feels like a chord being snapped between the two of you. your confidence grows. you made stiles like that.

"are you gonna do something about it?"

his head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks at you. "you want me to?"

"why else would i ask, stiles?" you sound almost exasperated, like he's taking to long. he swallows and drops to his knees in front of you.

stiles. is crawling towards you. on his knees.

"are you... do you really?" he's close, so close now. looking into your eyes like they'll answer for you. like they contain every 'yes' you've been too scared to whisper.

which, honestly, is probably not far from true.

"i do. i really, really, d-"

his lips are on yours before you can finish, one hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you closer. you let out a muffled noise of surprise, mouth opening on it's own accord as stiles takes the kiss deeper, tongue exploring your mouth hotly.

"you're impossible-" stiles gasps, going in for more before he can finish. "-to be around-" his teeth nip your bottom lip. "-when i can't have you."

his lips leave a wet kiss on the corner of your mouth, so passionate that he misses, and he continues that trail onto your neck until he finds the spot that makes you squirm. his hands go to your waist, pulling you closer and knocking your knees together. you feel dizzy with want, barely registering his words.

"what-" you gasp, blinking and leaning into his demanding mouth. "what is that supposed to mean?"

stiles groans against the skin of your neck, kissing lower, closer to the sticky mess you made just minutes ago. "i can't think... can't even... fuckin'... breathe when you're near, y'look so pretty. j'st wanna make you-"

he interrupts himself again, opting instead to lick the ice cream off the top of your tits like he's starving. you gasp as the feel of his tongue against your skin, pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the sudden pressure shooting down your stomach to your core. he's barely making sense and he still has you all foggy brained, swaying just a bit under his touch.

"you-you've thought about this? befo- oh-" you stumble, as he tugs lightly against the low cut to give himself better access to the sweetness melted onto your skin. he laughs, seeming to clear up a bit.

"yeah. you kidding me? i've basically been-" he's kissing back up your neck now, seeming to track a path to your lips. "-perpetually hard for the past three weeks."

you swallow thickly and he captures your lips. stiles tastes like vanilla ice cream and it's the most tempting sin, luring you over the edge. enticing you to do things you'd normally pretend you weren't into. he runs a hand down the side of your body, squeezing your hip lightly. "you're torture, you know that?"

"i could say the same to you."

he smiles at you, like a sap, like a saint. you feel your mind fall into his hands and your heart nestle against his ribcage. you no longer belong to yourself. you never have. and neither does he, it seems, as his eyes wander all over you.

"wanna move to the bed? i can clean up your thighs..." his tone is low, clearly suggestive in a bad-pickup-line way. you nod, giggling girlishly and stiles hauls you up to gently lay you back on his bed, tugging your tank top off on the way. his eyes linger on your chest before moving along, kissing a wet trail down your body as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. "god, look at you. you're gorgeous."

it's not like you're wearing lingerie and sexy makeup- you went to stiles' place to lounge, so you're wearing your lounge bra and some comfy shorts. stiles looks at you, though, as if you invented beauty. he sighs contentedly as he pulls your bottoms off slowly, eyes drinking in your stomach and hips and thighs like you're the first woman to have them. once he's got them far off enough, his hands press your hips back down and his eyes meet yours.

"not to late to back out. well- obviously it's never too late, it's just... okay, this is me asking for consent. i was trying to make it sexy, but it sounded a bit rapey."

you laugh breathlessly and nod at him where he stands, towering above your almost-naked form. "stiles, please stop talking and fulfill both of our fantasies already."

stiles grins and tugs his shirt halfway off before stopping abruptly. "wait- both?"

you roll your eyes. "stiles, why would i be so... so..."

"obedient?" he offers with a cocky smirk. you flush.

"agreeable, if i didn't want this?" you nibble your lip as he pulls his shirt the rest of the way off his body, getting on his knees at the edge of the bed and spreading your legs. your body moves pliantly under his hands. the sight of it all is downright promiscuous.

"well," stiles presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. it would be sweet if not for the sinful way his eyes are preoccupied with the wet spot on your panties. "i heard girls find consent sexy. maybe i screwed that one up a bit. what do you think is sexy?" 

he asks in that absent tone that tells you he's storing away information as he kisses further up the inside of your thighs more fervently. you let out a breath that feels too shaky too early and watch as his pink tongue swipes out to lick up some ice cream spill. it makes you clench around nothing. 

"any day now." his hand is gently rubbing your thigh as he moves to lick and suck almost crudely at your other thigh.

your eyes narrow slightly. "gimme a second."

he gets closer to where you're literally soaked for him, nibbling lightly at the plush flesh of your inner thigh. you shove down a low whine of impatience to avoid your already growing embarrassment.

"your attention to foreplay is- i like it." you admit softly and he hums, licking a stripe of ice cream out of the way. taking a second to think, you continue. "i like the... the desperation. how you took me without really... um... i like it when you just do what you want, i mean."

it's difficult to form a single thought once stiles presses a kiss against your clothed clit, being sure to add plenty of pressure. almost like a reward. "what if you don't like what i want? will you tell me to stop?"

you nod, chest rising and falling heavily with every breath. you glance down at stiles, and a small sound leaves your lips when your eyes catch his hand down his sweats, slowly stroking himself. he flushes. 

"you.... can't i help?"

he lets out a small moan and his eyes flutter as he halts his movements. "i don't- i don't have a condom."

against all better judgement, you shake your head and thread your fingers through his messy hair. "it's okay. just pull out, yeah?"

his brows shoot up, and you wonder for a moment if he's about to cum in his pants. but then he nods and rises, standing in between your legs now. his fingers deftly tug off your panties, pocketing them in his sweats (for "safe keeping") and his lips part silently once you're exposed to him.

your legs begin to close, feeling suddenly too naked and too insecure for his hungry eyes, but his hands catch your knees easily, even giving you a little tap as a sign to scoot further onto the bed.

before you comply, curiosity takes over and you tug at the strings on his sweatpants. "wait, what about you?"

he tilts his head. "what about me?"

you narrow your eyes, fingers dipping under the band. "can i take these off?"

"oh!" his brows shoot up, as if he forgot about himself altogether. "oh, yeah, of course. please."

you waste no time pulling his bottoms off, his cock springing out. it's flushed and leaking, looking properly erotic in the dim lighting of his room. your eyes flutter up to meet his and you wrap your hands around him, pumping twice.

stiles moans, hips twitching into your hands on their own accord. "holy shit."

part of you just wants to finish him that way, positively fucking hooked on the look he has, pleasure pinching his pretty face all tight. he pants and pulls your hands away, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment. "y're gonna make me cum, holy shit."

"i'm sorry, you just..." you fluster, laughing a tad at the both of you. he shakes his head, though, so you fall silent and let him crawl over top of you, kissing you deeply. he unhooks your bra with a bit of struggle and you both have to cooperate to get it off of your body. you giggle, and his eyes are locked on you as your smile slowly fades.

"don't be sorry," his voice is gentle, "i've imagined that so many times it should be criminal." he kisses you again and you feel his fingers graze along your stomach. stiles pulls back far enough to see your whole face and you wonder why- then his thumb is circling your clit.

the high-pitched gasp you suck in is not as embarrassing as the louder whine that leaves your lips once he's slid a finger into you, eyes closing for a moment to soak in the bliss. it feels like heaven, for a long moment. but his fingers are slow. too slow. and even when you cant your hips, he doesn't speed up enough to have you seeing stars (like you know he can). instead, he has you writhing impatiently. "you're... stiles, please."

it's whiney and pathetic, but stiles seems to stifle a smirk when he hears it, covering it with a sympathetic pout instead. "i know, pretty girl, i know. you gonna ask nicely?"

and you knew you gave him permission to do whatever he wanted. but you didn't expect to be into it. your lips part and you almost tell him to shut up and fuck you already. but you're hot with embarrassment and something else he can totally feel when your walls clench around his torturous fingers. so instead, you opt for falling right into his hands.

"please, stiles, fuck me already." you whisper, lips brushing against his when you speak. "please."

"there we go." he presses a peck to your lips and slips his fingers out. "such a good girl."

you aren't given any time to process that and the fact that it made you throb like a personal whore- stiles is already swiping his tip through your folds, making you gasp when it catches on your clit. he's panting heavily as he lines himself up, and you're a little surprised when he finds your hand and laces his own against it. 

then, he's stretching you open and you're seeing stars, just like you knew he could make you do.

stiles is sweet, but he's not exactly gentle. hips rolling into you and his tongue pressing against your own. a hand pinning you to the bed and keeping him upright, the other tweaking your nipples or teasing your clit. he's all over you, pulling back every once in awhile to watch the way you arch your back and gasp out unintelligible pleas. his moans are about as pathetic as yours and he hisses "fuck" into your ear when you clench around him tightly. your dance goes on like this for a moment, and he's rambling horny nonsense constantly.

"stiles, 'm close-" you whimper, free hand pulling him closer by the hair. he gasps out and his hips snap roughly. 

"yeah, me too. jesus, you're so perfect. look at you." he pushes some of your hair out of the way, eyes meeting yours. "you gonna cum for me?"

you nod, eyebrows turning up as you feel the warmth crawl up your belly. your free hand tugs at his mussed up hair again and his expression matches yours. he speeds up and you gasp and whimper, pliant under his body as he fucks you into his mattress.

"stiles, fuck, stiles, i'm-"

"that's it, there you go, hooooly fuck." he holds your hips down when you finish, rutting into you with an open mouth. he's got his forehead pressed against your own, swallowing each others desperate moans as he rides you through your orgasm. stiles' moan is sudden and loud when he pulls out in a rush and finishes on your cunt, his tip pressing into your overstimulated clit and making your legs twitch.

you gasp out a breath and sink into the mattress, sighing contentedly. when your eyes flutter open on heavy lids, stiles is gazing at you. he leans down and kisses you, soft and sweet and full of a confession long coming.

"that was..."

"amazing." he finishes dazedly, hands running over your bare skin anywhere he can reach. "want me to use my mouth?"

your brows raise. "stiles, i just came."

"i know." he sighs, playing with some of your hair. "it was so fucking hot."

"you said you've been perpetually hard for three weeks?" you attempt to change the subject, but stiles only grins wider.

"yeah, so i've got plenty more fantasies to play out before i'm out of steam."

you shove him lightly, fighting a flustered smile. "just- give me a second, you dog!" 

"awooooo." stiles deadpans an imitation of a howl, nuzzling into your neck. "let me know when you're ready. i'll just be here. naked. on top of you. in the mood to make you pass out from orgasms. willing to learn every kink you have- which, hey, the praise kink was a good guess, right?"

you groan, pushing him off of you. your face is flushed red and you snatch his nearby discarded t-shirt when you sit up. "that was so out of left field."

"yeah, but was it? i mean, you-"

"i'm getting in the shower, stiles." you stand and take a few steps away from him before you turn to gauge his reaction.

his eyebrows shoot up from where he sits on the bed. it makes you bright fucking red when his eyes trail down and he watches a bead of his own cum slide down your inner thigh. he licks his lips.

"i'll come with."

☆

this is from the vault, so if you've read it already, that's why! don't be afraid to interact with it anyway, i love crazy readers and feral responses sjdjsaskdj

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

again, REBLOGS are important.

please have the curtesy to reblog to share/save your ur fave fics.

[star-girl-05]

Were Dating?

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

His signature blue jeep pulled into your driveway at exactly eight. Surprisingly the brunette was on time for once. As soon as he parks he’s jumping out of the jeep, giving you his dorky smile before opening the passenger side door for you. You just chuckle at his actions. 

You and Stiles have been friends for years though it was only lately that he's been acting somewhat differently. He’s been sweeter to you, more thoughtful, you contribute it to the fact the two of you have been spending more alone time together. Tonight the two of you are going to see a new horror movie that you’ve been dying to see. 

You and Stiles just buttered your popcorn when you bump into Scott and allison. Coincidentally they are going to see the same movie, so you decided to join each other. ‘A double date’ in Stiles' own words. The night went amazing, after the movie the four of you decided to get food. At the end of the night Stiles drives you back to your house. Even going as far as walking you to the door. Just as you're about to say goodnight he kisses you. You freeze when his lips meet yours, completely stunned by the boy's bold move. 

“Uh.. What was that?” You weren't against Stiles kissing you but you wanted to know why he's kissing you out of the blue. 

Stiles tilted his head a blush still coating his cheeks, “It’s a goodnight kiss, can’t I kiss my girlfriend” Now you're really confused. 

“I’m your girlfriend?” 

“Of course you're my girlfriend”, he chuckled thinking you were teasing him. It's only when you ask since when with a completely straight face does he realize you're being serious. “A week in a half, I asked you out two tuesdays ago.”

It took a few seconds to place the day.

It was an average day, Stiles was driving you home like he does everyday. Only this time when you pulled up to your house he stops you. “Hey before you go I wanted to ask you something” He was oddly nervous but you didn't think anything about it, giving him a nod of encouragement. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang-out, like just the two of us.” Why he’s so nervous to ask you to hang out you don’t know but you answer right away. 

“Of course, I don’t know why you were so nervous to ask. I could never say no to you.” A huge smile blooms on Stiles face, his dimples fully on show. 

“Thank goodness, I was so nervous that you would say no” you laugh at his reaction, why on earth would you ever say no. 

Now looking back on it’s so obvious that he was asking you on a date. In your defense he never used the word date or the word girlfriend. So it wasn’t totally your fault for not connecting the dots. 

“I didn’t realize you were asking me out” your voice is soft 

“Oh” an awkward silence covers the two of you as both stare at each other. He had no idea how to respond, this whole time he thought you were his girlfriend, but you thought the two of you were only friends. He had no idea how you thought the two of you were friends. He wasn't hiding his affection for you. The two of you would hold hands, and cuddle yet you thought you were friends. He felt like an idiot, he just kissed you when you saw him as just a friend. “Well then goodnight I guess sorry I kissed you let's just forget about it” he tried to laugh off his discomfort, this is not how he thought tonight was going to go. This morning he was dating his longtime crush and now he’s finding out it was all a lie. He just wanted to run away and die of embarrassment. 

Before he could leave you grab his arm pulling him back to you and placing a kiss on his lips. His mind short-circuited, he’s on a rollercoaster. One second he's dating you then you're rejecting him and now you're kissing him. 

“Stiles, do you want to be my Boyfriend?” 

“Yeah I would love too” his smiles huge 

“That's how you ask someone out” you giggle out

“Well when someone takes you on dates and holds your hands that means your dating” the both of you laugh kissing each other once more.

[tomsparkyr]

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 [𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓]

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: when coach tells people the room requirements and the 'no sexual perversions perpetrated' rule by the so-called 'little deviants', it only makes the couple want to break that rule even more.

stiles stilinski x fem!reader (no smut sorry babies)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were nestled into your boyfriend's neck, the soft flannel material brushing against your cheek and the scent you knew all too well, all of the senses could have made your eyes flutter back closed. You felt a small nudge on your shoulder, groaning and shrugging off the contact, you decided to ignore Stiles’ silent request for you to lift your head up.

It wasn’t until you felt his warm touch brush the hair that had fallen in front of your face away and the palm of his hand stroke your cheekbone, you pulled away from his contact and looked up at him.

His brown eyes looked into your own and he smiled softly at you. He couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on. He couldn’t believe he was going out with someone like you. You were beautiful in and out, hence his gut-wrenching crush he’s had on you since the 3rd grade. After long years of pining and certain dreams, he couldn’t thank the supernatural world for existing more as he finally got a chance with you; and boy, did he take it.

At the beginning of your relationship, Scott thought Stiles was joking when he said he kissed you, and you actually kissed him back. He just laughed, patted him on the shoulder and moved on with the subject.

“No, Scott! I’m not kidding.” Stiles said, almost offended. But then he sobered his thoughts and kind of understood Scott because it had taken him 3 hours after your kiss to finally process that he had grown the balls to do that, and apparently you liked it too.

Scott paused momentarily, “Neither am I Stiles, we need to focus on--” Stiles sighed dramatically and flailed his arms around in desperation. Scott paused mid-sentence, tilted his head and waited for his best friend to continue.

“Scott, I kissed her. Like, I actually kissed her!” Stiles smiled widely. Scott remained unconvinced, blinking slowly and scrunched his brows. “You know, when you put your lips on someone else's--”

“Yes, Stiles! I know what kissing is!” The werewolf exasperated, he shook his head. “I just don’t believe it was with her. Y/N? Head cheerleader, popular, smart, way out of your league Y/N?”

“You better believe it, Scotty.” Stiles patted his hand rhythmically on Scott’s back as he began to walk away, intending to walk to his beautiful girlfriend's house. 

Scott grabbed onto Stiles’ flannel and yanked him back for more details, “You mean ‘I’ve had a crush on her since 3rd grade, I wish she would look my way and we would get married and have kids’ Y/N?” Scott grew a proud smile the more he said, knowing how down bad his best friend was for this girl.

Stiles nodded frantically and adjusted his flannel, “And she actually kissed you back?” Scott questioned. “Scott, I think 3rd grade me died a little bit when she held my hand, let alone kiss me back.” Stiles jokes.

The two boys looked at each other before high fiving and doing their ‘bro-hug’. Scott congratulated the boy, not hiding his pure excitement for his friend; borderline jumping for joy. The boys gushed over the new relationship for a few more minutes before Stiles snapped out of it and ran out the room, shouting behind him saying he had to get back to his girlfriend who was waiting for him. Scott doing a subtle fist pump as Stiles turned his back.

“Wake up, baby,” He whispered, not wanting to disturb you too much as you wiped the grogginess and sleep off your face. You looked at your surroundings, “We here?”

Stiles looked out the window of the bus, eye twitching at the surroundings. “Not quite…” 

The motel looked uncomfortable, old and just overall, definitely violating hundreds of safety codes. The poor attempt at the neon lights brightened up the place in the darkness outside, but did little to make the atmosphere any more homely. But he knew it would be fine for one night, as long as you were by his side the entire night.

Everyone began piling out of the bus, a couple of your friends passing you and giving you two a wink as they noticed the state you and your boyfriend were in; cuddled up close, hands intertwined and Stiles admiring you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. Even in this messed up supernatural world, Stiles found beauty in the horror; and that was you.

Stiles helped you off the bus, his hands never leaving you. He slung an arm around your waist as you stepped onto the concrete and became aware of your surroundings. 

It was clear you had the same initial thoughts as Stiles as he read your body language. He rubbed his thumb on the skin between your top and the jeans that hugged your figure, leaning in and kissing the top of your forehead.

As you walked towards your friends and addressed Lydia’s discomfort at the Motel, Stiles had sneaked behind you and hugged you from behind. He rested his head on top of yours and you leaned back into his chest; his arms were locked around your front and you rested your hands on top of his, sighing into the contact.

It felt like you were in a dream, you never wanted to leave this comfortability with Stiles, he was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

The Coach’s whistle broke you out of your bliss, snapping your attention to him as he turned away from the Motel and faced the angsty teenagers. 

“Listen up. The meet’s been pushed till tomorrow.” You groaned quietly and nestled backwards into Stiles’ chest, he smiled at you. “This is the closest Motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates such as yourselves.”

You would protest Coach’s point, but he was completely correct, actually. Who the hell would want 20 odd, hormonal teenagers who definitely have questionable things packed in their bags to stay in your Motel?

“Now, you’ll be pairing up. Choose wisely.”

You and Stiles look at each other, untangling yourself from his hold and intertwining your hands. You pulled him over to the Coach, not seeing Scott raise his brows at Stiles’ smirking face at the idea of spending a night with you in your own room, no parental interruptions, no supernatural; just a boyfriend and girlfriend in each other's company.

Coach noticed the two of you approaching like a couple on their honeymoon and felt the need to clarify something.

“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants, got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!” He shouted, looking directly at you. “Especially you, Stilinski and Y/L/N!”

You two dropped your hands expectantly, reluctantly taking a key for different rooms. The boy sighed at you and leaned in to kiss you before you departed over to Lydia and Alisson.

The sound of the Coach’s whistle made you two jump apart before your lips touched. “What did I just say!” Stiles went to protest, “I don’t wanna hear it! Get out of here!” 

Stiles groaned and turned away to room with Scott, you loitered back for a moment, just in time to hear the Coach say, “How he managed to get you to go out with him… I’ll never know.” You chuckled to yourself and roomed with your friends.

It had been an hour since you got to your room and settled in, kicking back and chatting to the girls for a while until they decided to shower and get themselves ready for bed. You had begun to set up until you got a message from Stiles.

Stiles: come to my room please i miss you

You smiled at his message, missing him too. And typed out a response.

You: i can’t the girls will see i’ve gone somewhere :((((

Stiles: you’ll be back before they’ve noticed you’re gone i promise

Stiles: baby?

Stiles was typing out more questions, and thinking of other ways to convince you to come over as Scott had left the room to explore the Motel more.

He was confused by your silence until he heard a knock at the door. He stood up, expecting it to be Scott but was braced by your beautiful face as he swung the door open.

He smiled, looking you up and down before tugging you into the room. He kicked the door behind him as he twisted your bodies so your back was facing the room. 

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you messed with the hair at the nape of his neck, drinking in his appearance and licking your lips. “I missed you, baby.” He groaned in the sexiest voice you think you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “I missed you, too.” You chuckled before connecting your lips.

He leaned into your body as his lips pressed into yours, subtly sneaking his tongue into your mouth. His hands snuck around to your back and held your body against his own, feeling every crevice and worshipping them. His hands explored your back, itching closer as he murmured for you to jump into him.

You obliged and wrapped your legs around his waist, he caught you by planting his hands on your ass. He smiled into his kiss and found himself growing more desperate for you as each second passed.

Your hands tangled in his hair and tugged at it as he walked the pair of you to the rickety bed situated in the middle of the room. He gently placed you on the bed and leaned on top of you, finding himself comfortable in between your legs.

The kiss grew more erratic as it went on, hotter and hands wandering. Stiles slipped his hands underneath your top and began to lift it over your head. 

You stopped him suddenly and he pulled back, his face coated in your lipgloss and his hair a mess; God, he looked good. 

“What? Did I do something wrong?” He panicked. You smiled and placed your hands on his face. “No, baby. Just don’t want Scott to walk in on us.” You confessed.

Stiles shook his head, “He won’t be back for ages…” He whispered and leaned back in to kiss your neck, sucking at your sweet spots that made your back arch. You sighed as his tongue worked wonders.

Stiles noticed you weren’t fully convinced and jumped off the bed, leaving you stranded. You were confused momentarily until he snatched something out of the bedside drawer, and opened the room door, hooking it on the handle and turning back to you.

“Just to be sure.” He winked and situated himself back between your legs and lifted your shirt over your head this time.

The room became hotter with each second, steam practically coating the walls; as the room door held up a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with pride.

Your stay with Stiles was much more prolonged than you had intended, your clothes now back on your body a little misshapen but the thought that was there. 

You skipped back to your Motel room and quietly pushed open the door at this late hour, knowing Lydia and Alisson were probably curled up in bed at this time. 

Kicking off your shoes, you snuck into the room and breathed a sigh of relief that the girls hadn’t had their suspicions about your disappearance, obviously feeling content enough to go to sleep with no nerves.

You turned on the bedside lamp to see where you were going and jumped at the sight of Lydia and Alisson wide awake and leaning on the headboard of their shared bed, staring right at you with raised eyebrows and a subtle smirk.

Alisson tilted her head, “So, where were you?” She questioned.

You stuttered for a moment, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “I was just… at the vending machine. Stupid things sucked up my money.” You fake chuckled.

Lydia hummed, “Yeah, it took you 3 hours…” You could practically feel a bead of sweat dripping down your forehead, “Yeah, I had a lot of trouble with it… Anyway, I’m heading to bed-”

“I didn’t know vending machines give you hickeys.” Alisson said, making you freeze and pale.

You opened your mouth but no words came out, “And it has nothing to do with the fact that Scott tried to get back to his room but the sound of moaning probably stopped him from going into the hot box.” Lydia smirked.

You quite literally had no words, “Shit.” You murmured.

Alisson giggled at you, "You realise Coach is gonna kill you two, especially Stiles." You groaned loudly.

The two girls chuckled at you and invited you into their huddle, only insisting you showered first. You laughed along with them and jumped into them, “At least someone had fun on this God awful trip.” Lydia smiled at you before you whacked her with the pillow you were previously leaning on.

[sarcasm-and-stiles]

Stiles: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Scott: Wasn't Y/N with you?

Y/N: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

[stilinskibaby]

brother's best friend.

PAIRING : stiles stilinski x mccall!reader.

CONTENT : fluff ๑ angst ๑ smut

it started out as a childhood crush, as most longterm infatuations do. you couldn't have been older than four when you met stiles, your stiles. he was missing his front tooth and he spoke with a lisp.

he was wildly loud and animated and you know when you're a kid and you think a boy is so cute that you're sure there's hearts in your eyes. he spoke of playing dragons and knights with scott, “oh! and you can be the princess.”

it was a memory that you kept crawling back to, a time much simpler than now. you could have let out a cold laugh, now you were in constant fear of your life, scott’s life, stiles’ life. it wasn't anything you couldn't handle but you wished for the times when all you had to worry about was your silly schoolgirl crush on stiles.

today was surprisingly quiet, just defeating peter and dealing with the deadpool, you were tired. all of you were, but you kept an eye open just on the off chance that something would try to kill one of your friends.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, and dotted some concealer under your eyes, anything to make it look like you got some sleep last night. you didn't have scott’s powers to fall back on, nor lydia’s intelligence and intuition. everyday you wondered if you'd be another human lost in the fight against the preternatural.

you tried to wipe the thoughts from your head before walking down the main hall of the high school, stiles stood leaning against his locker while your brother talked about god knows what.

you walked up to the two of them and tried to act normal. like stiles isn't a whole foot away from you, like his cologne isn't enough to make your knees quiver, like every little wink, smile and joke doesn't make you wanna beg him to love you.

you'd been dealing with this crush for as long as you have memories, it should be easier by now. it seemed like lately though, it was getting harder. almost like he was purposefully invading all your thoughts.

“helllloooo?” you came back to the present because of stiles’ voice and scott's hand waving in front of your face. your skin warmed from the embarrassment of getting caught zoning out.

“what? sorry, I'm just tired,” you sighed, seemingly having said that alot recently. but dealing with what you can only assume to be a unrequited crush is tiring. especially when that crush happens to be on your brother's best friend.

stiles eyes squinted with disbelief. if there was one thing you hated about the boy, it was his ability to tell when anyone was lying.

“right, anyways,” scott continued eyeing you from the corner of his eyes but you were already zoning out again.

your day continued on like that, just skating by with your mind constantly drifting back to stiles. it felt almost like you were cursed, your brain almost short circuiting whenever you tried to think of literally anything else.

before you knew it, as if on airplane mode you found yourself walking out the doors towards the jeep. since scott started working at the clinic, you'd just been riding home with stiles. and due to the supernatural nature of your life, it's easier this way.

you climbed into the jeep and tried to keep a semblance of calm. stiles scent was invading your nostrils, with his lacrosse gear in the back seat and him sitting directly next to you. a soft song played on the radio, and if your emotions weren't getting the best of you ; you'd romanticize the man before you.

you were almost never quiet when left alone with stiles, it almost like you don't know how to shut up when around him. so the silence filling the jeep was becoming a bit much even for the hyperactive mind of stiles stilinski.

“you sure you're okay, sunshine?” his hand awkwardly patted your leg. stiles has been calling you sunshine forever, it's yours-and-his special little thing and even when you feel like the world is crushing you, it still gives you butterflies.

you had be around ten, you sat on the bus one seat in front of stiles and scott. stiles was talking mindlessly about lydia ( 12 year olds and their crushes ). and some kid was in the seat in front of you talking about how weird you were. being just a kid, you were almost to tears until stiles heard what the unkind words sprouted from the kid’s mouth.

“you don't even know what you're talking about! she's like sunshine.”

you found yourself blushing and feeling embarrassed, just for the kid to start making fun of you and stiles.

you let the silence hang a bit longer, trying to buy some time to tell a somewhat believable lie. the jeep came to a stop in front of stiles’ house. your eyebrows knit together trying to remember if there was some prior agreement that you forgot about.

“i think i know exactly what you need!” stiles spoke excitedly, and your heart felt like it was gonna fall out of your chest.

“a-and what's that?” you tried to convey a sarcastic tone but your voice shook as spoke. you prayed to whoever was listening that he didn't notice.

his eyes scanned your face as if trying to pry into your mind and it would give him all the answers. “movie night! i know we haven't done one in forever, but i think it'll help get your mind off whatever is bothering you. I know scott is usually here for this,” he sighed a little and rubbed the back of his neck.

your heart warmed, you couldn't believe the absolute kindness this boy had to offer. though every moment around him, was a kick to ego and a kiss for your heart.

“thank you, stiles,” his hand still awkwardly sat on your thigh, burning a metaphorical hole through your jeans.

he grinned that big smile, the one where his whole face turns into pure joy. it took everything in you not to just kiss him right there. and right as you began to get the courage he pops open his door and falls out the jeep. you chuckled to yourself bitterly.

you followed him into his room where you plopped yourself down on the bed. “so what's on tonight, star wars again?” you giggled as you watched him fumble through his dvds.

“actually, i rented heathers last night just for you, i know it's your favorite!” this boy was going to kill you.

and just like old times, he made popcorn and let you lay on his chest. you thought you might throw up. watching your favorite film, with the biggest crush of your life and it started to feel like you were suffocating.

you sat up anxiously, leaning against the wall, stiles’ head lazily rolled to the side, watching your every move.

“stiles,” your voice shook, your lips quivered and you were rubbing your hands intensely.

“hey! woah, hey, it's okay, whatever it is, it's okay, what's got you so upset? did you kill someone or something?” he tried to joke and relieve the tension and at this moment you think that might be an easier conversation.

“no, no, nothing like that,” the Perception of rejection was getting to you, an anvil falling on your heart. you laughed bitterly, “actually, now it feels so dumb. i just, stiles, i-i love you. i love you so much and i cant, i tried to swallow it and for a while that worked,” you were basically sobbing now eyes closed and lip shaking and you were about to lose your breath.

“but i can't, and I can't keep pretending i dont, but it's killing me and that feels dramatic but please, please don't hate me.” he knew this was very serious for you, a girl that almost never let anyone see her cry. amd he didn't mean to, and he feels so bad for it but he laughs, it just thr awkwardness that's in his bones.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, please I didn't mean to laugh, but i guess it just seems so silly to me that you wouldn't just tell me or someone and let it get so bad.” he pauses almost like he's trying to find his words. and all you can think about is running, running as fast as you can but his hand is on your leg and you'd feel so bad for it.

“i can't believe you could be so oblivious, I've been trying to hint to you for years now that i felt the same,” you didn't let him finish his sentence instead, doing what you've always wanted to do : kiss him. your lips mold together perfectly, you felt so far away, like you were in a dream.

the dream felt more hazy, when his hands find your hips and pull you into his lap. you can feel his cock hardened underth you, restrained by his jeans. you grind against and whimper into his mouth.

“stiles, stiles if you don't do something right now,” your words were breathless, somewhere between a whimper and a whine. his fingers move quickly to undo his jeans, while you shed yourself of everything but your bra and panties. you always wore cute panties in a secret way to manifest this happening.

as soon as he has you below, his hands are moving to grope your tits, he groans, eyes scanning every inch of your body, trying to commit every part of you to memory.

“fuck, you're so pretty, baby.” his words go straight to your core, warm, wet and clenching around nothing. you're thoughtless, the only thing left in your mind is him, so you just whine.

his fingers trace around your hips and slide your thong to the side to get a view of your beautiful cunt.

“you ready?” you nod, and he shakes his head, as if a new man. “say it,” as his hands slide over every part of your body except where you need him most.

“m ready, please stiles need you, need your cock. please, please” you were practically begging so pumped himself a few times before sheathing his full length into your cunt. it's so deliciously painful.

“mm such a good girl, taking me so well,” he pressed his lips against your forehead in a long kiss. before giving you long thick strokes, ans his hand reaching between you to rub little circles onto your clit. you were seeing white as continued to fuck you, your fingernails scraping against his pale skin.

his teeth gritted as he moaned, trying so hard to hold back. “m close, please please.” you whined and he fucked you faster, and harder. rough groans falling out of his lips.

your climax was closing in on your, your nails skating harder against him, your legs closing in around his hips. you basically screamed your orgasm out against stiles neck. he chuckled to himself, proud he could do all this. he funally let go, fucking you both through your climaxes. and keeping his now soft cock in your cunt, to keep his cum in you. thank god for birth control.

[em-ontv]

Hit and fall.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Summary: Stiles has been pining after you for years now, and this was his chance to woo you, at a lacrosse game, but nothing ever really goes his way, does it?

Content: no use of y/n, Stiles being clumsy and messing up, he's kind of down bad

Author's note: I cannot believe I haven't written anything for him yet, he's so UGH, the single best thing in the show. Not proof-read, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, apologies beforehand :)

Word count: 786

Stiles had a problem. A big, heart-pounding, gut-wrenching problem. And that was you.

For years, he had harbored a crush on you, he sank so deep that it had basically become a third party in all of his conversations. He had known you since middle school, when you shared a science class together and he lent you a pen — only for you to reveal that you had your own pen all along.

"Just wanted to see if you were a good guy," you had said with a small smirk.

And that was it.

Stiles was hooked.

But tonight was different. Tonight was the night he was finally going to do something about it. Not some grand, fancy, caviar stuff, no. He had a simpler plan: impress you with his lacrosse skills at tonight's big game.

He had everything set up already, making sure to ask your friend to convince you to come since you didn't really go to any sports games. He figured if he showed you that he could be athletic and charming, maybe you'd finally see him as someone who's more than just the goofy guy from history class.

The problem though? Stiles wasn't exactly known for his athletic skills. Sure, he was on the lacrosse team, but, uh, he was mostly on the bench… yeah, it took some convincing for Coach Finstock to let him play tonight.

Still, Stiles was determined. He practiced, maybe not as much as he should have, but he practiced. And he had been psyching himself up all day, telling himself that tonight was the night he'd finally make his move.

You agreed to your friend's invitation to come to the game. All the stars are aligning, this was his shot.

And then he saw you.

You were in the stands, cheering with the rest of the students, an excited grin on your face. His heart leapt into his throat. His palms started to sweat. This wasn't good. He hadn't planned for this. He hadn't planned for you to be here — well, he had — but not for you to look so radiant and supportive and just so… you.

"Stiles. You okay, man?" Scott called from the field.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good!" Stiles called back, but he wasn't. Not even close. His mind was scrambling, a mess of everything that all led to one point: You were here. Watching him. Right Now.

The game started, and for the first few minutes, he managed to hold it together, he did pretty good, actually. But then he made the mistake of looking up at the stands again, and there you were, waving at him with that smile that made his insides twist up in knots, his legs felt like they were giving out right then and there.

And that's when things started to go very, very wrong.

He missed a pass. Then another. He tripped over his own stick, stumbled into Matt, and accidentally whacked Isaac in the shins with his lacrosse stick.

"Stilinski!" Coach Finstock bellowed from the sidelines. "Are you trying to lose us this game single-handedly?!"

"Sorry, Coach!" Stiles shouted back, trying to regain his focus. But it was useless. His nerves were twisted, his concentration shattered.

And then, just to add salt to the open wound, a well-aimed shot from the other team's captain hit him square in the chest.

Stiles went down like a sack of potatoes.

The world blurred around him, gasps and murmurs from the crowd filling his ears. But all that was on his mind was, Great. Just great. I'm finally gonna get her attention, and it's because I'm flat on my back like a total idiot.

When he finally managed to sit up, he saw you in the stands, your eyes filled with concern and shock. Perfect. Just perfect. He had managed to embarrass himself in front of you in the most spectacular way possible.

Stiles limped over to the bench at the sound of a whistle being blown, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest and the throbbing embarrassment in his soul, trying to grapple onto the last of his dignity while he sank down onto the bench, burying his face in his hands.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He could already hear the teasing he was going to get from Scott and the rest of the team. But the worst part? He had blown his chance with you.

As he sat there, wallowing in his misery, he finally peeked through his fingers to see you in the stands, laughing with your friend — were you laughing at him? Did you think he was an idiot now? Well, to be fair, the fall to the ground was a little ridiculous.

Great.

Just great.

[little-miss-alone-n-in-love]

There definitely is!

I'm thinking that the sheriff doesn't like her dad because when they used to be partners back in the day, he did things a little differently... He didn't play by the rules. He wasn't dirty, he just took more risks and didn't care about the itty bitty regulations that could get him in trouble. That's why Noah is the sheriff, not him.

Seeing his partner recklessly do whatever he thought was necessary to catch the bad guys drove Noah insane. It's like the guy was so determined that he threw his moral code out the window. He got too physical, too emotionally attached to his cases. He was one of the reasons Noah started to drink.

He spent a lot of time ranting to his son about how cruel his ex-partner always was, but Stiles never understood why it bothered him so much. He figures that breaking a couple of windows and noses on the way isn't a big deal if you get the job done. That's why he decides that putting his hands all over that beautiful, delicious girl won't be such a bad thing after all. His dad doesn't even have to know.

So, during dinner, he goes on and on about how "annoyed" he is about being paired with "the spawn of Satan himself" for a big project that will take a few weeks. He tells his dad about how "miserable" he will be tonight when they start working on it at her house, and how he's already "nauseous" just thinking about it. Sheriff Stilinski believes him. And warns him to be careful with her.

Stiles is anything but careful when he's ripping her panties off her mouthwatering legs. The only project he has is making her cum more times than either of them can count, but it's a great cover story when she texts him that her dad just left for the night shift and his dick is already getting hard.

Thank you for your additions! I really enjoyed this and would love to keep it going if you or anyone else has more ideas! Wish me luck with the massive presentation I have to do today...

Forbidden romance vibes.

Your dads hate each other. Something about one of them being passed over for some sort of promotion, politics, whatever. But his dad hates your dad. Therefore Stiles is supposed to hate you. Right? Right.

So what if he happened to see you with a flat tire one night? He dislikes you but he’s not a monster.

So what if he offers you a ride home when you both realize there’s no spare on your car? And big deal, you just so happen to know all the words to that one song he’s loved since he was like 10.

Have your legs always looked that good in a skirt? Were they always that tan and had you always had those little freckles on the swell of your tits? He only stops thinking about that long enough to realize you left your keys in the car, wedged between the seat of course.

Wait. How did he end up sneaking through your bedroom window, nearly somersaulting through it?

So this is her room? Oh right. Just returning her keys. Wow. You have posters of the same bands he does, he thinks he can even spot a few of the same band tees in her slightly ajar closet. And more skirts. Why do he hate her again? Did your dad even care?

Wow. She’s cute. And maybe a bit of bitch but it want as if stiles hadn’t given her a hard time these last few years.

“Stiles… you’re doing that weird gazing off into space thing again. Are you like… okay?”

No, as of a matter of fact. Stiles is not okay. Stiles is completely fucked. Oh great now all he can think about is that word. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck her. Fuck her right now.

Well fuck.

YES, I LOVE THE ROMEO AND JULIETTE VIBES!

And the close proximity in his car is like a force drawing Stiles closer to her, pulling his gaze to those forbidden places, internally begging for a better view.

Maybe he thought going through the window would allow him to get in and out quickly and without being noticed. However, once he's in there, he's practically trapped in a web of lust. Every little thing he sees just makes his fascination (and dick) grow.

He was shocked that she was upset when she saw him in her room, and he almost lets himself imagine that she's happy that he's in such a personal, intimate space.

But his head is swirling, so his thoughts are beyond his control. Puberty did a number on him, but she has more influence on his hormones right now.

He's twitching - all over. His muscles are begging him to do something, to get that release, to touch all that silky skin. He feels hot and almost out of breath. Speaking isn't an option, words no longer exist. He's too desperate.

The problem is that the consequences of any movements he makes could be detrimental for his father too. He's stuck. For now...

I don't know how I feel about my end of this, but thank you so much for your submission! This is amazing, I love it! 💜

[daintylovers]

sleepy stiles

sleepy stiles who can’t get a good nights rest without you by his side. even during those hot summer nights, he needs to be touching some part of you. winter has become his favorite season because you’ll cuddle into him more often.

sleepy stiles who swears that he likes being big spoon more- but he’s lying to himself. he wants to be your personal teddy bear, just hasn’t come to terms with it.

sleepy stiles who lovesssss a good nap. anywhere and everywhere.

sleepy stiles who needs some sort of noise in order to fall asleep. which mainly means playing his spotify. and once the selection runs out, you wake up to save me by chief keef??? which is chill, ig.

sleepy stiles who is impossible to wake up. you have to literally plug his nose to wake him. but when it comes to you having a nightmare, homeboy is awake before you are. it’s like his body senses your peril.

sleepy stiles who talks your ear off about the stupidest shit, before going dead silent.

sleepy stiles who can’t help but pull you as close as possible, if you guys aren’t spooning.

save me sleepy stiles

[itsjustrosee]

NEEDS Void Stiles x fem!reader

Context: Stiles and the reader have a flirty-friendship, but aren't in an established relationship. When Stiles gets possessed by the nogitsune, he comes to the readers house who is unaware that he's been possessed.

Warnings: Spice

Wordcount: 1.1k

You slept peacefully in your bed until your eyes began to flutter open. Your mind groggily catches up to you as you slowly adjust to the lack of light in your room. As you sit up slightly, you shiver at your bedroom's surprisingly low temperature.

Even within the comfort and safety of your bed, drowning in the endless sea of covers and blankets that had now engulfed it, you still found your teeth clattering against each other.

Your eyes dart to the window in your room, which you could've sworn you closed before you went to sleep, but for some reason, was open now. The window's curtains blew in the wind after yet another cold breeze entered your room.

You muttered a curse under your breath once you finally built up the courage to leave the warmth of your bed and shut the window. You planted both your feet on the frigid floor and crossed your arms against your chest.

Very slowly, you made your way to the window, letting out a huff as you used both hands to close it shut. You turned around and leaned your back on the window, closing your eyes and sighing as you did so.

Once you opened them however, you saw someone standing in front of your bedroom door. At first, you were under the impression that your mind was playing tricks on you, but as you continued staring at the tall figure leaning on your door with his arms crossed, you realized that this wasn't just a figment of your imagination.

"H-Hello?" You whisper at the person and for some reason, your half-asleep brain thought it would be a good idea if you took a step closer to him. Upon further inspection, you realized that there wasn't just some random crazed lunatic in your room, it was Stiles.

"Wait- Stiles? Is that you?"

"Yes, it is. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," He replies, his voice genuine, yet so low and husky that it sent a shiver down your spine.

He pushed off the door and walked towards you, his eyes raking your body up and down, eyeing you as if he was trying to commit this image of you to his memory. As he stared at your bare legs you came to the realization that you were standing in front of him in just a pair of low-rise shorts and a small tank top.

"What are you doing here?" You ask curiously while crossing your arms in an attempt to cover up the amount of skin you have exposed.

"I just felt like paying you a visit," He says as a grin plays on the edges of his lips, "I've missed you," He adds, his voice growing quieter as he steps even closer to you, placing his hands lightly on your hips as he does so.

"Is that so?" You reply with a soft chuckle while leaning closer and placing your hands on his shoulders.

You didn't know what it was, but at that moment something was drawing you to him. You couldn't help but entertain whatever had gotten into him which had compelled him to be so bold towards you.

"Mhm," He mumbled as he moved one of his hands to your cheek, the skin on his palm was surprisingly warm, causing you to melt into his touch. Heat cast off of his body as he pulled you closer, your chest pressing against his.

Stiles's eyes darted from yours down to your lips as he continued to look at you. The air was filled with tension that radiated so powerfully of desire and longing that it clouded your better judgment.

"You really are gorgeous, you know that right?" Stiles murmured, as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. His deep hazel eyes continue to stare at you, admiring all of your features.

You felt your cheeks grow red as Stiles took your chin in his fingers, lifting your head up and forcing you to return his gaze as your face was now only mere inches away from his. As you finally looked into his eyes, you noticed a glimmer of primal hunger behind them.

Suddenly he took your lips in his, encasing them in a long and passionate kiss. He continued to merge his lips against yours as he moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, his hand gently tugging at your hair as he kissed you harder.

You opened your mouth slightly, allowing Stiles's tongue to enter and explore every inch of it. As he continued to taste you, you moved your hands to the back of his neck.

Stiles pulled away momentarily, pushing you against your bedroom wall before picking up where he left off, claiming your lips once more in a hungry kiss. He brought his hands on the back of your upper thighs, signaling you to wrap your legs around his waist.

One of his hands stayed on your ass, keeping you propped up on the wall while the other began to trail up your torso, going under your tank top and cupping your breast.

You moaned into his mouth, his touch sending shockwaves through your body. After hearing the noise, Stiles's arousal only grew greater causing him to harden against his jeans.

His fingers found their way to your nipple, pinching it lightly between his thumb and index finger. Stiles groaned while his tongue continued to tangle with yours as you arched your back into him.

Stiles pulled away, biting down on your bottom lip slightly as he did so. He opened his mouth to speak, his heart beating against your chest as he caught his breath after the heated kiss you both shared.

"You're all mine," He growled possessively, a grin playing on his lips as he turned his attention to your neck, kissing and marking it with hickeys as he made his way down to your collarbone. He bites and then sucks on your sensitive skin, causing you to moan out in pain and pleasure.

Eventually, he brought his head back up to the side of yours before whispering into your ear, "I need more of you," He pleaded while nibbling slightly on your earlobe.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the ache between your legs growing more prominent. The tension in the room was electrifying as his eyes met yours.

"Whatever you need, I'll give it to you," You murmured softly.

Stiles grinned at you as if that was exactly what he had been waiting to hear you say. He encased your lips in one final kiss before carrying you to your bed.

ahhhh omg another stiles fic. Thought I should take a break from all the wholesomeness in my other fics with him 😜I'll start working on my requests now that I've finished this.

BTW THANK ALL OF YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT I'VE BEEN GETTING LIKE WHAT???? YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET I'M LITERALLY ON THE FLOOR PASSING AWAY RIGHT NOW.

deadass tho, I love every single one of you, thank you for all of the notes, reblogs and comments, each and every one of them makes my day <33

[star--stilinski]

stiles doing the accidentally hot things because he's so used to being considered ugly that it doesn't cross his mind?????????

stiles dropping unceremoniously on the couch and pushing his hips out as he manspreads to get comfortable, arm thrown over the top of it casually.

stiles clenching his jaw when he's frustrated or focused or horny- or all three. eyes roving over you because he's so mad he can't have you because ugh he's ugly and annoying and..... meanwhile you're trying not to drop to your knees and give it to him straight.

stiles leaning on the doorframe of your bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. explaining something something scott pack danger while you practically drool over his frame taking up so much room in the doorway.

stiles' adams apple, and that's it.

stiles' hands. have i mentioned his hands? they're like porn, only more erotic. he can't figure out why you're not retaining anything he's saying, but his hands are just.... there.

stiles getting confused at why you're so distracted lately, and then getting very, very confused when you stutter and blabber and blush and avoid eye contact with his grey sweatpants.

just.... stiles can be cocky, but remember that this boy spent his developmental years as a loser. he's a lil oblivious and it's the hottest torture ever istg

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 — 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞?

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share/save.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

It's the worst day you've had in a while.

Each of your classes dragged entirely too long, leaving you glancing at the clock only to find mere minutes had passed since the last time you'd checked.

Then, on the way to the courtyard where you planned to sit in the sun and relax, you'd dropped your lunch. The contents of your takeout container had created a truly heartbreaking splatter across the pavement, and then you hadn't even had enough cash left on you to buy anything else, so you'd had to settle for munching on the bruised apple at the bottom of your bookbag.

And, after an already exhausting morning had tested the strength of your sanity, you had your scheduled office hours in the afternoon. Said meeting was with one of your least favorite professors to discuss an upcoming term paper, and the hour spent in his stuffy office had proved to be grueling and overall unhelpful, which only resulted in you biking home from campus sporting a decidedly bad mood to pair with your rumbling stomach and the beginnings of a stress headache.

When you finally collapse face-first onto your bed a few hours later and release a little scream into your pillow, the sound of it is muffled into no more than a quiet cry. Through the smothering cotton, you fight to pull in a steadying breath, if only so that you might have enough air in your lungs to scream in frustration again.

The sky outside is dark, crickets creating a loud symphony in the distance, and the breeze coming in through your window brings goosebumps along the backs of your thighs where the baggy tshirt you've chosen for pajamas has rucked up to settle in the curve of your spine. The cool air meets your flushed skin like a blanket of ice, your body still warm from a shower in which you'd spent a little longer than usual beneath a cloud of steam and hot water in a failed attempt at releasing some of the lingering tension from the day — But even an extra few minutes breathing in the aromatics of your body wash clinging to the steam-thickened air wasn't enough to settle you. The irritating buzz of the stress still made itself known underneath your skin, the itch of it making your body feel just a little too tight for all of the frustration building up inside.

You can't even find it in you to flinch at the sound of something scrabbling at your bedroom windowsill, nor do you lift your head at the small crash and thump that follow a few seconds later. There's a small rustling of fabric and limbs, shoes thumping against the baseboard as they're kicked off, what you assume is the sound of your backpack being placed back where you'd thrown it on the cushioned bench beneath the window when you'd first gotten home.

There's a moment of silence as Stiles drinks in the sight of you. Hungry eyes rake across every inch of your exposed skin, trailing the length of your legs up to where they meet the supple curve of your ass, and with the way your shirt has bunched up underneath your belly, the soft skin of your backside is hidden from him only by your underwear. He spares a second to admire how the pretty fabric clings to your flesh, the cut high and revealing on the cheeks of your ass.

It takes a few slow seconds for him to reorient his thoughts to something slightly less salacious, but after an audible breath, he manages.

“Are you..? Hey.. 're you sleeping?” Stiles' voice comes out a little incredulous but still hushed, as if he's actually worried about waking you in case you truly had somehow slept through the cacophony of noise he'd caused when he climbed in through the window.

You only give a pitiful whine into your pillow in response, feet kicking a little petulantly as you finally roll to face him to reveal the lack of sleep in your eyes, “Scott isn't home,” You tell him weakly, voice still a little smothered by your pillow, “You coulda jus' come in through the front door.”

Stiles is at the edge of the bed already, kneeling on the mattress and making to join you now that he knows you aren't asleep. He looks deliciously soft, gray sweats hanging low on his hips, his sweatshirt already stripped away in a heap on your bedroom floor to leave him in a cozy-looking tshirt, the fabric of it soft with wear.

“Where's the fun in that?” Stiles asks with a quiet laugh, urging you onto your back and crawling on top of you without warning. His weight settles atop your body and his nose nuzzles into the softness of your breasts over your shirt as he burrows his face into the space between them.

He's so warm. Body heat is quick to seep out from his clothes and through your own with the way he's settled heavily on top of you. It's all a little smothering, the way that his weight is making it a bit hard to breathe, your lungs not quite able to get a full inhale — but it's also grounding, the heavy blanket of warmth he provides managing to alleviate just a little bit of your anxiety.

“One of these days you're gonna hurt yourself, or worse, you might break something of mine with a flailing limb when you inevitably trip and come tumbling through the window,” You tease weakly, pinching your eyes shut as you try to push away that lingering tightness in your chest, “I'm serious. You're gonna break something and I really hope it isn't your face.”

Your fingers come up to tangle in his hair and he hums in appreciation, a content grumble rising in his throat as he settles his cheek onto the plushness of your breast like it's his own personal pillow.

His hand slips down your thigh, fingers blindly drawing little patterns around the top of your knee as he scoffs, “Oh, real exciting. Yeah, next time I'll just use the front door, like some kind of common loser. As if.”

“You are a loser.” You say quietly, the small smile in your voice not quite managing to hide the discontented sigh that slips out as your mind wanders back to the events of the day.

Stiles pushes up onto his elbows at the edge in your voice and your hands fall from his head with the movement. He frowns as his big brown eyes flick over your face in scrutiny, “What’s wrong?” He asks immediately, long brows drawn together as his lip juts out in a pout of concern.

Your eyes fall shut again and you give his biceps a squeeze even as your nose scrunches up, “Just.. Stressed. Had a really shitty day.”

He hums in understanding, sitting up to settle on his knees between your legs and draping your thighs over his own, big hands slipping underneath your hips to rub at the base of your spine. You let out a little noise of appreciation at the rough dig of his fingers massaging the muscles there, hips lifting up from the mattress just a little to give him more room.

“Oh, you like that?”

He's teasing, you know he is, but the way his grip on you tightens, the way his fingers press into the fat of your thighs so that he can tug you just a bit higher up on his own lap — it makes your breath hitch. Your sleep shirt has bunched up just above your navel and it leaves your panties exposed from the way your ass has settled over him. Your body is tilted at an angle, your hips in the air with how he's propped you up on his thighs while your knees press in on either side of his waist.

One of his hands leaves your spine to give the soft dough of your thigh a squeeze before making a slow trail up, settling his palm over the thin cotton at the apex of your thighs. His thumb presses down softly against your clit through the fabric and Stiles watches intently as you let out a breathy sigh when he draws a slow circle against you.

You still haven't dignified him with an answer, opting to pinch your lips together as his thumb slips down a little further to press into the wetness that's begun to soak through the fabric, his finger dipping in and pushing cotton into your opening with it.

“Need me to make you feel better, honey? 's that it?” Stiles asks. The grin in his voice is audible, but when you blink your eyes open to get a good look, you find him peering down at you with awe and hunger swimming in his eyes. When he catches your gaze, the corners of his lips pull up a little more and his thumb moves back to rub at your clit over your underwear, “Need me to make you a little stupid? Huh? Work some of that stress outta your head?”

Your jaw has gone a little slack with the way he's circling your bud with easy drags, knowing exactly how much pressure to use and what angle feels the best and- He asked you a question — What had been the question?

“Huh?” You ask quietly, the sound half a question and half lost to the moan working it's way up your throat.

The smile on Stiles' face goes soft and he leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, right at the corner of your mouth. Your lips purse and your chin tips up in an attempt to meet him, but he's already leaning back so that he can watch the drag of his finger over your panties.

“You going stupid on me already, baby? I've barely gotten started.”

The circles he's been drawing slow, growing unhurried and leisurely. The movement of his thumb is agonizingly slow now and you huff in frustration and cant your hips up in a silent demand.

“Stiles.” You plead simply.

“Alright, alright,” He laughs, leaning in to press one quick kiss to your mouth before he begins to make his way further down, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and neck in his wake, “Settle down. I got you.”

He makes a small detour at your chest to bunch your tshirt up at your collarbones, exposing your tits so that he can leave a cluster of bites to the supple flesh. You gasp at the sharper bites, keening a little, but he's already peppering kisses over the abused skin and moving farther down. His tongue dips out between his lips, the warm wetness making you squirm a bit as he moves in a slow line down your stomach. Lower, lower. When he reaches the waistband of your panties, he hooks his fingers under the fabric and pulls just a little, exposing the sliver of sensitive skin just above your patch of trimmed curls. You gasp again at the sharp sting of his teeth when they scrape harshly over your hipbones and your hips lift up again on instinct.

Stiles takes pity on you and finally eases your underwear down your thighs. The tension is broken for a brief moment as he struggles to coax the fabric past your knees and around your ankles without dislodging you from his lap, a small huff of laughter escaping you when he curses quietly.

He rids you of the article but immediately brings your ankle up to nip at your foot in reprimand, pushing your thigh up against your stomach with the movement.

“You gonna behave?” He asks while he curls his fingers around your ankle.

“Mhm.” Your hum and the small nod of your head are paired with a coy smile.

“See, I don't know if I believe you,” Stiles says with a small laugh and an absentminded peck to your skin, his teeth scraping the bottom of your calf with his grin as he does so, “You've got that look in your eye.”

“What look?” You question curiously, a little lightheaded with the way his lips press a small line of kisses from the top of your foot all the way up to your shin and then back down again.

“The look that says you're feelin' a little bratty.” He tells you.

You scoff in indignation and his teeth nip at your ankle bone again, successful in cutting the sound off before you can say anything to the contrary.

“You gonna let me take care of you, or what?” He asks seriously, eyebrows raising a little as he fixes you with a stern look.

You nod and your eyes go a little wide at the tone of his voice, your cunt clenching with the flash of warmth that rushes down your spine.

“Good girl.” Stiles murmurs with a grin, already beginning to kiss a slow trail up from your ankle. His lips press into your skin in an irregular pattern of teeth and tongue, briefly broken up with gentle pecks as he makes his way up the length of your leg toward your naked cunt.

As he finally reaches his destination, he urges the bend of your knees over his shoulders, your legs framing his head nicely as he dips to press an agonizingly gentle kiss to your clit. You fight the jolt in your hips, making an effort to keep your muscles taught, but then he does it again, his lips parting just enough to nudge the little bud with the tip of his tongue, and you're lifting toward him without really meaning to.

“Sorry, sorry.” You're apologizing breathlessly before he can scold you, fingers curling into the duvet as you settle your hips against the mattress again.

“Atta girl.”

He kisses your clit gently again and you bite back a whine at the soft press of lips against you. His wide palms run up and down the outside of your thighs and he turns his head to where your legs are draped over his shoulders to suck softly at the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. Your brows furrow at the sting of the bruise he's leaving there but you manage to stay still and the praise he murmurs against your skin in return makes your head feel a little light.

Another small series of kisses mark his path back to where you want him most and his voice is quiet as it reaches your ears, “No more stress babe. You know I got you, right?”

“Mhm.” You agree quickly, fingers tightening around the blankets in anticipation.

“Good. Good..”

And then his mouth is on you again and you find it a little hard to breathe. He doesn't ease into it, there are no teasing licks up the length of your folds nor are there anymore agonizingly gentle kisses. His mouth closes around your clit, sucking softly, tongue laving over the bud before he's sucking again.

A weak little cry pushes its way out of you, another coming just a moment later when Stiles scrapes his teeth against you gently as he works, his tongue quick to sooth over the sensitive nub in apology. He kisses your clit like he can't get enough, licking and leaving wet little pecks only to close his lips around it again a second later.

Minutes pass. Your mouth doesn't even close between moans anymore, lips permanently parted to let out a near-constant stream of tiny whines and breathy gasps and desperate whimpers. Your whole body feels like a live-wire. The nonstop stimulation to your most sensitive muscle leaves you teetering on the edge of something earth-shattering despite it not actually managing to peak yet.

“F-ffuck,” You manage to get out, lips trembling as you look down and catch sight of the way Stiles is devouring you, the dim lamplight creating golden patches in the dark locks of his hair, his head bobbing as he works. “Stiles.. St-Stiles! 's.. 's so g-fuuck.. 's so good-”

He doesn't slow, nor does he glance up at your first real words since he started, sheer determination pushing him to continue at the same brain-melting pace.

His teeth catch against you again and you gasp sharply, the sound tearing from your dry throat as your hand shoots up to grab a fistful of his hair.

“J-jesus, nngh- God! Stiles-”

Your back arches of its own accord, hips canting toward his mouth as another choked sound drags its way out of your throat. You feel like you could come any second — have felt a little like you might come any second for the past ten minutes at least — and it's making everything a little fuzzy around the edges. Your shower-damp hair is cool against your flushed skin when you tip your head to the side against the pillows while warmth creeps along your neck and spreads down your spine. It crawls all the way to your toes as your eyes pinch shut, fighting to hide the way that they're starting to cross embarrassingly from the pleasure.

“Fuck,” You whine with a stuttered breath at the feeling of his lips closing around you again, sucking so delicately at your sensitive bud, tongue rolling against it softly within the suction of his mouth. “Fuckfuckfuuucck-”

He finally gives you a small response, a quiet, noncommittal hum that rumbles through your cunt and has your hips spasming with a thrum of pleasure. Stiles brings one hand from where it had been drawing absentminded patterns along the length of your thigh and drops it to rest over your torso instead. He firmly pushes your hips back down without ever slowing his skillful mouth and you can't hold back a quiet whimper as you're immobilized, the restless movement transferring almost immediately into a tremble in your thighs and stomach, the muscles beneath quivering and jumping under your skin.

His palm is warm and heavy where the weight of it is spread over your ribs. The width of his hand has his fingers curling around your waist while his thumb begins to drag back and forth over your tummy in long, smooth strokes. His soothing touch is a tether in the dark and you cling to it desperately, your fingers tangling tighter in his hair as you grapple for something to keep you steady amidst what's beginning to feel a little like it might be a constant, never ending orgasm.

A noise rips from you so choked off that it sounds a bit like it might've been punched out of your chest and your hips jump again. The shakes in your thighs and stomach seem to spread, your whole body beginning to quake throughout stuttered breaths that might actually be sobs.

It's then that Stiles finally peers up at you, brown eyes meeting your own and taking in the mess you've become under his minstrations. He still doesn't pause, doesn't slow, but he does raise his eyebrows in silent question as his fingertips dig into the doughy flesh at your waist.

You don't manage more than a garbled, “Yes!”

Your free hand grabs ahold of his forearm with an iron grip and a few tears actually break free and fall back into your hair when the warm fog creeps impossibly further across your body, clouding what little remained of the blurred edges of your mind. Any shreds of lucidity are gone as your eyes roll back with a high keening moan. Your hips stutter wildly now, thighs tightening around Stiles of their own accord as your never-ending orgasm seems to finally crest and send you hurtling over the edge that you've been dragging on for so long.

It's possible you black out. The next thing you become aware of is Stiles pressing loud, smacking kisses to your pelvis, the insides of your thighs, your belly and ribs, his lips are gentle against your skin as the soft sound of the kisses breaks through the fog in your head. By the time he settles on top of you, hands slipping beneath your sweat-slicked shoulders to rest his weight on his elbows underneath you, the heavy beat of your heart is a loud echo in your ears.

He's wiped his face off at some point, but his swollen lips still glisten lightly from the time spent between your thighs as you pant warm breaths against his mouth. The cool smugness that Stiles had worn before is gone and now he looks at you with nothing but adoration, chocolate brown blinking down at you as if, even flushed and sticky with sweat, you might be the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

You intend to bring a hand up to fix the wild tufts of his hair where your hands made a home earlier, but your arm feels entirely too heavy when you lift it and you hardly manage more than a brush of your fingers over his cheek before your hand falls limply to the pillow beneath your head. Stiles chuckles softly at your attempt and tangles his fingers with your own, dipping his head to press a few playful kisses to your cheeks and the tip of your nose until you reward him with a breathless laugh.

“You okay?” He checks quietly, thumb stroking over the side of your own, “Wasn't too much was it?”

“Okay,” You assure him, “Very, very okay.”

The way his sweatpants rub against your naked legs is soft when he readjusts, manhandling you onto your side so he can wrap you up in his embrace, the quilt from the end of the bed being draped over you as he settles in. His arms go around your shoulders and you curl your own around his back in return, your nose pushing into the warmth of his chest as your body continues to come down.

“Hey,” You murmur into his shirt, craning your head back to look up at him and tangling your bare legs with his as you continue, “You're big-spooning me. 'm usually big spoon.”

“Yeah. Not tonight your not.” He says easily, wide palm dragging soft up and down in the space between your shoulder blades.

His hips unconsciously nudge forward just a little and you feel the warm stiffness of his neglected cock against your hip, erection straining against his sweats where he's pressed against you. It makes you gasp almost comically.

“Wha'bout you?” You mumble in sleepy realization, batting your eyes with heavy blinks in an attempt to keep sleep from claiming you.

“Don't worry about me, alright? Seriously, I'll just jerk off in the shower later,” He tells you, fondness in his voice, “Now shut up and let me hold you.”

You hum, burrowing back into his chest contentedly, “Yes, sir.”

A quiet groan meets your ears as the soothing motions of his hand stutters, “None of that, come on.” Stiles huffs quietly, voice laced with self-deprecating laughter, “I know you know you're gonna get me worked up sayin' shit like that.”

You did know that.

Your lips pull into a grin, brain lax and floaty and sleepy. Your arms tighten around him for a moment before relaxing again, “Sorry.”

He grumbles something to the contrary as your eyes slip closed, your body finally free of the tight-coiled tension that had followed you around like a shadow all day.

Stiles Stilinski is loud and weird and passionate to degree that's concerning at times. He's bumbling and he's awkward, often to the point of it being a little adorable and entirely endearing, but then he still always manages to surprise you — With his eagerness to please. With the way he can shift into something else, someone else entirely, behind closed doors. Just for you.

That night, wrapped up in the arms of your brother's best friend you realize that, at some point along the way, after all this time, he might very well have become your best friend too. And finally, feeling warm and safe and cared for, you find yourself slipping into a blissful sleep.

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭? 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐩𝐮𝐭! — 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 🤍

again, REBLOGS are important.

please have the curtesy to reblog to share/save.

[ateotd-izzy]

rainstorms | stiles stilinski x fem!reader

summary: it’s the middle of the night and you wake up due to the heavy rainstorm outside, and after you get up, your boyfriend can’t really sleep on his own.

warnings: none, just sleepy stiles

☾

you were woken up in the early hours of the morning by the sound of rain pattering against the window.

a few moments of lying awake made you shiver (that was because stiles was hogging the blanket) and realize how thirsty you were.

so, with a sigh, you slipped out from under the little amount of blanket you had (thanks, stiles) and let your legs drop over the side of his bed.

one leg of your grey sweatpants had hiked up your leg so it was rolled up to your shin and you fixed that before standing up.

the floor was cold against your bare feet as you slowly and quietly exited stiles' bedroom, careful not to disturb your sleeping boyfriend and his adorable snores.

you made it through the dark house and to the kitchen, where you got yourself a glass of water.

it was still raining heavily outside and you smiled at the sound as you headed back to stiles' room with your cup.

you opened the bedroom door and your eyes drifted over to the bed immediately. stiles was lying on his stomach, eyes closed, mouth open and one arm draped across the bed where you were lying before.

you smiled to yourself. he was so adorable.

you watched as more rain drops hit his window and it started thundering. you saw a flash of lightning and immediately walked over to the window and staring out at the dark night outside.

it was calming. watching as the rain stormed outside as you sipped your water at 3 in the morning.

you were so distracted that you didn't even hear the creak of the bed as stiles got up and walked up behind you.

"what're you doing up?" he mumbled, his arms finding their way around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, his face buried into your neck from behind.

"the rain woke me up." you answered, leaning your head against his ever-so slightly. "and i was thirsty."

"what time is it?"

"it's 3 am."

he pulled his head up to look at you. "you're a psychopath to be up at this time, i swear."

his voice was raspy and all a big mumble. he was clearly still half asleep.

"sure, buddy."

"crazy woman." he shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning against your shoulder again. "look at you, just watching the rain."

"it's nice, stiles."

"sleep is also nice." one of his hands moved from its place on your stomach and connected with yours. he tugged lightly. "please sleep."

"in a minute." you sipped your water again.

"it's so cold."

"then go back to bed."

"i'm not gonna go without you." he whispered, kissing the back of your neck. "i hate sleeping alone, you know that."

you took one last long sip of your water until it was all gone. you turned your body and walked back towards the bed with stiles, placing the cup on his nightstand.

stiles practically dropped onto his bed before rolling back into his place. he pulled the blankets over himself and patted the spot on the bed next to him for you.

you did lie down, except horizontally across the bed, rather than vertically. your head found its place, using stiles' chest as a pillow and he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering shut.

"what are you doing?"

"sleeping."

"stop being a dork and lie down properly," he wrapped one arm across your chest. "dork."

"stiles, don't complain because you're a good pillow."

"yeah, but how am i supposed to cuddle you — or move for that matter — if i'm stuck like this?" he asked, his words still a jumble of nonsense.

"okay, fine, you win." you sighed playfully. you were already going to move, you didn't like the feeling of your legs hanging over the side of the bed.

you adjusted your position so you were lying next to him properly. he gave you a dumb smile in return.

"i love you." he whispered, still smiling, just now with his eyes shut again.

"i know."

his eyes shot open quickly.

"you didn't—"

"good night, stiles."

"hey." he glared slightly. "you gotta say it back."

"why?"

"because i need validation. tell me you love me."

you chuckled softly, pulling the blanket over yourself and moving closer to stiles, placing a light kiss on his lips.

"i love you too, you big nerd."

"thank you." he closed his eyes and held you as close to him as humanly possible. "now i'll see you in about... seven hours when i decide to wake up."

"good night, stiles."

"wait, what if—"

"good night, stiles."

"yep, good night." he peeked his eyes open. "going back to sleep now."

you chuckled and shook your head, lying down and closing your own eyes.

"what if i can't go back to sleep?" he asked after about a minute of silence and you groaned. "okay, well you woke me up."

"and you're the one who dragged me back to bed to sleep, stiles, not talk."

"touché."

a/n: just a little one shot from my wattpad that i felt like putting on here