#Stiles Stilinski x fem reader

[mxltifxnd0m]

hotter than fire  ࿔ s. stilinski

summary: a heat wave has hit beacon hills and the pack spends a day at lydia's pool

pairings: stiles stilinski x reader, stiles stilinski x fem! reader

word count: 2.7K

warnings: no use of y/n, fluff, kissing/making out, one mention of sex

a/n: RAHH this fic took a little longer than anticipated bc writers block is a bitch and i had to rewrite the beginning bc i hated it :) but the title is a lyric from west coast by lana del rey!

please be sure to comment and reblog! it helps out a lot and i love seeing your thoughts on the fic!!

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

The cool July night air brought little reprieve to your sticky skin as you sat on the edge of Lydia's pool, staring into the illuminated pool. You snuck out of the dark living room as the rest of the pack was watching a random movie that Lydia had on DVD, wanting to take a breather to yourself. As much as you loved hanging out with your friends, you wanted a little time to yourself since today was a little overstimulating. Living in the middle of Northern California wasn't any fun when a heat wave struck. 

The humidity made everything feel damp and made you want to crawl out of your skin. All you wanted to do was cease to exist when one of the worst heat waves hit Beacon Hills. Each time you went outside, it was like stepping into one of the circles of hell, and your only saving grace was the A/C that was on blast in your house. 

The last thing you wanted to deal with after the shitshow that was Beacon Hills' problem with the supernatural was the heat. But as fate would have it, the A/C in your house had broken in the morning. Your parents were on a business trip, so you were left home alone with no working A/C, and the only thing that was keeping you cool was the tile flooring of your kitchen and cold showers. 

Then Lydia, being your savior, invited everyone to a pool day. You had to ask if you could stay over with her for a few days until your parents came back and got someone to fix the A/C. Lydia asked her mom, and thankfully, she said yes. So when you arrived at her house, you had a duffle bag in one hand and some drinks in the other for the pool day. Since you were the first one at Lydia's house, you helped her get set up, like helping prep the snacks and making sure the inflatables that Lydia had in storage were blown up. 

The pack eventually showed up, and that's when the fun began for the six of you (Liam was busy, so he couldn't come to the pool day). You spent most of the day in and out of the water, but most of the time, you were in the cool water since you couldn't bear the heat. You had to force yourself to look away from Stiles at times because your eyes would always find him and study the freckles that covered the length of his back and some of his chest. Then, you would always catch Lydia giving you a knowing look and a sly smile as she sunbathed on one of the lounge chairs outside of the pool. But at different points in the day, you could have sworn you could feel a burning stare on you, but you never caught the culprit. 

As the sun fell, you guys eventually got out of the pool and rinsed off, either in the outdoor shower that Lydia had or in the bathrooms inside. You decided to take an actual shower since you couldn't stand the feel of chlorine lingering in your hair. Once you were done, you padded downstairs in some old boxers of your dad's and a plain blue baby tee that you would wear to sleep. You (heard) found the pack in the living room, crowded around the pizzas that you would later find out that Lydia's mom had ordered for the six of you.

The living room was filled with lively chatter as you guys ate, talking about the upcoming school year and complaining about the heat. A poll was going around about what movie you guys would watch as you finished the pizza. Once the movie was picked, you figured that popcorn wasn't going to be made by itself, so you volunteered to make it. As you got up, Stiles stood up along with you, and he sat across from you. 

You looked at him with a raised brow. 

He shrugged. "I figured you'll need help carrying the bags back." Stiles said as he wiped his hands on the back of his thighs. 

The creaking of the door that led to the backyard broke you out of your thoughts as you raised your head, resting on your knees from staring at the water, and turned your head to see Stiles sticking his head out of the door. His whiskey-colored eyes met yours as he made his way out of the house. You gave him a half smile, feeling your heartbeat pick up as he smiled back at you. 

You were grateful that he wasn't a werewolf or had enhanced hearing. You took in Stiles as he made his way over to you. He was wearing a red shirt and some black joggers he had changed into after the pool, and his hair was flat and sticking to his forehead since there wasn't any product in it. 

You untucked your knees from your chest and put your feet in the water. The cool water felt refreshing on your skin, the water coming up to your mid-calf. Stiles came to sit next to you, leaving only but a foot of space between the two of you, and he rolled his joggers to mirror you, putting his feet in the water. 

"Hi." Stiles greeted you as he turned to face you. 

You smiled at him as you looked at him. "Hey." 

He pursed his lips as he looked around for a brief moment and looked back at you. 

"So, uh. Nice weather we're having right?" 

You chuckled at his awkwardness. "Yeah, it is. If you minus the humidity, it's pretty alright." You said while nodding at him. 

A silence settled between you and Stiles. You leaned back on your hands as you let your head fall backward and looked up at the stars. They were out tonight, and they were scattered throughout the sky. Some weren't bright, and a few looked like they were planes, but the bright ones, they looked like they were twinkling. 

You let out a contented sigh. "The sky is pretty tonight." 

"Yeah," You heard Stiles clear his throat. "It is." He all but whispered, but you still heard him, even over the chirping of the crickets nearby. 

You felt the familiar burning stare you had felt earlier today as you swam, and you pulled your eyes away from the sky to find Stiles looking at you intently. As your eyes met his, Stiles seemed to snap out of his daze and averted his eyes back toward the water. You smirked to yourself as you sat back up. 

Suddenly, confidence filled your veins when you shuffled to sit closer to Stiles, your shoulders brushing against each other as you leaned forward and tried to catch Stiles's gaze, but it seemed that he was avoiding your eyes. You saw a faint red hue against his sun-kissed cheeks, his moles and freckles scattered throughout his face and neck as the glow from the pool light that illuminated his features. 

"Stiles." You called out to him. 

He looked at you slowly, his eyes timid as he licked his bottom lip nervously. Your eyes flickered down to his lips at his actions before they quickly snapped back to his eyes. 

"Were you staring at me instead of the sky?" You couldn't help but say with a teasing smirk dancing on your lips. 

You can see Stiles get visibly more flustered, the faint blush on his cheeks now spreading to his ears and neck. 

"Wh-what? Pff no." Stiles tried to deny it, but he wasn't convinced of himself either. 

You couldn't help but giggle and lean towards him. "If it makes you feel better, I liked that you were looking at me." 

Stiles's eyes widened slightly as he looked at you in disbelief. "Really?" He asked dumbly. 

"Mhm." You bit your bottom lip as you tried to contain the wide grin that threatened to appear on your face as you nodded at him. You noticed his eyes were blown out as they flitted down your lips before meeting your eyes. 

"Do you want to kiss me Stiles?" You asked boldly. 

It seemed that your question short-circuited him. "Huh?" Was the only thing he could respond with.

You huffed out a laugh through your nose. "I asked you if you wanted to kiss me." You said as you leaned even more toward him. At this point, your noses were touching, and your lips threatened to brush against his. 

You saw Stiles swallow thickly before nodding.

"Words, Stiles. I need words." You whispered. 

"I want to kiss you so badly." Stiles let the words fall out of his mouth, not even bothering to filter his words. 

You smirked as you brushed your lips against his before pulling back slightly. "You're gonna have to catch me first." You said before pulling back entirely from him and getting up from your place on the edge of the pool, the water sloshing around from the sudden movement. 

You laughed at the dumbfounded look on his face as you started to run through Lydia's big backyard. It seemed that the water lapping at Stiles's leg and your laugh broke him out of his stupor, and he immediately jumped into action. He quickly got up from his position and saw that you were on the opposite side of the pool from him, with a grin on your face. 

Stiles couldn't help but start smiling at your infectious smile and darted to the right, trying to get to you as fast as he could. You swiftly went in the opposite direction; now, this was the start of the cat-and-mouse game between the two of you. You ran in circles around the pool a couple of times, hiding behind the pillars that surrounded the pool if Stiles managed to get on the same side you were on, but you were slowly getting tired, so you decided when you were on the shorter end of the pool, you ran towards the doors. 

But before you could even make it to the steps of the awning that led to the doors of the backyard, you had forgotten that Stiles was taller than you and had a longer stride, so you squealed when you felt him grab your waist from behind and hoisted you in the air in his arms. He spun you guys around, Stiles and your joyous laughter filling the quiet night with a certain warmth and affection that could be only found in lovestruck teens. 

Stiles eventually stopped spinning and set you down, your back facing the pool as you guys were near the edge of it. His grip on you wasn't tight, but his hands never fell from your hips as you spun around and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The both of you had identical breathless smiles on your faces as Stiles rested his forehead against yours. One of your hands moved to rest on the nape of his neck and played with the short hairs there as you stared at Stiles. 

His usual whiskey-colored eyes were blown out, and he only saw a sliver of his eye color. 

"I caught you." Stiles said as he calmed down, his chest heaving slightly. 

You smiled. "You did."

"Can I kiss you?" Stiles asked with a whisper. 

Instead of responding, you tilted your head and placed your lips on his. The kiss was hesitant, testing the waters as you felt the softness of Stiles's lips. It was short, but it still filled your veins with warmth as he pulled back from it. You opened your eyes, a soft smile on your lips. Stiles's eyes were filled with desire and something else, but you couldn't tell because he had all but slammed his lips against yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss. 

Stiles pulled you closer to him as one of his hands began to move and rest on your waist, the other moving higher to cup your cheek as he swiped at your bottom lip with his tongue. You couldn't help but let a soft noise leave the back of your throat as you tasted the salt and butter from the popcorn he was eating earlier as his tongue explored your mouth. You unconsciously tugged at Stiles's hair, making him groan loudly, sending a vibration through you and down to your core, feeling the warmth beginning to grow in your belly. 

Neither of you noticed, but Stiles was pushing the two of you backward, and before you knew it, the cold water of the pool enveloped the two of you. The two of you broke away from each other and quickly swam to the surface of the pool. Once you wiped the water from your eyes, you looked at Stiles with wide eyes before you started to chuckle. Then your chuckle turned into a full-blown laughing fit. Then you heard Stiles begin to join you in your hysterical laughter. 

Once you calmed down, you swam a short distance towards Stiles and wrapped your arms around his shoulders once again. He grabbed your waist before his hands slid down to your thighs and maneuvered you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

Both of you were still smiling widely at each other. You leaned down slightly to place your lips on Stiles's again. The change in scenery didn't stop you at all from kissing Stiles. You knew once you had kissed Stiles, it would be impossible to stop. You guys traded kisses ranging from passionate to slow ones as Stiles waded in the water. You guys lost yourselves in each other, time ceasing to exist as you ran your hands through Stiles's wet hair and Stiles's hands gripping your thighs firmly. 

Eventually, when you broke away for air, a slight breeze blew through the air, and a shiver racked your body. 

Stiles frowned. "We should probably get out before someone catches us making out in Lydia's pool." He joked slightly as he started to move you guys to the shallow end. 

"Too late!" You heard Lydia's voice echo throughout the backyard. 

The two of you both jumped, and your heads snapped to see Lydia standing a little ways away from the pool with her arms crossed and a smug smile on her face. You quickly escaped from Stiles's grip as the two of you got out of the pool. You both looked at her sheepishly. 

Lydia tossed you two spare towels that were on the lounge chair nearby. "Glad you two finally figured it out. But if you're staying over Stiles, keep the noise to a minimum please." She said before heading back inside. 

You saw out of the corner of your eye that Stiles rolled his eyes at Lydia but began drying off. You couldn't help but let out a little chuckle, making his head jerk towards you. 

"Something funny?" Stiles asked as he dried his hair with the towel. 

"Nope." You said as you toweled off as best as you could. 

Stiles wrapped his towel around his neck and took a step towards you. At this point, you weren't dripping wet, but your clothes still clung to you. His eyes roamed up and down your body, as he used his index finger to make you look at him. You could see the lust fill his eyes, and you placed a hand on his chest before he could take another step. 

"Down, boy." You said jokingly. "We'll have time for that later, besides I don't want to have sex in Lydia's house of all places." 

Stiles started to sputter. "Wh-what! What makes you think I wanted to have sex with you? No! I meant I do, but like-" 

You quickly silenced his ramblings with a quick kiss before pulling back. "I got it Stiles. Again, we'll have time for that later." You said before sending him a reassuring smile. 

Stiles nodded sharply. "Right, right. It'll happen. Wait. Does that mean that we're together now?" 

An amused chuckle left your lips. "Yeah, I hope so." 

"Then we are." Stiles said with a goofy smile on his face, clearly elated at the notion of the two of you being together. 

"Okay then boyfriend, let's get inside because I'm in desperate need of changing out of these wet clothes." 

"Okay, let's go girlfriend." 

[topazy]

In the shadows

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Warnings: Violence

Chapter: 1.12

The feeling of being dragged underwater is what wakes you, and when your eyes flutter open, you’re surprised to be in a hospital bed and not a pool of water. Your body, which is covered in bandages and bruises, aches. Two nurses are in the room as well, both looking concerned, but neither of them say anything.

You look around the sterile room and notice Sheriff Stilinski yelling at Jackson. At least that jackass was alright. Suddenly, all the fear comes flooding back. Peter's face flashed before your eyes, his eyes glowing red as his jaw opened, sharp fangs replacing his human teeth.

��No!” You lunge forward. “Stiles run!”

Hearing your sudden outburst and yelling his son's name, the sheriff tries to enter the room but is denied access. Your parents had gone out of town to visit friends the previous morning, so I guessed they hadn’t returned to Beacon Hills yet.

One of the nurses begins fidgeting with the IV bag, which is attached to the cannula in the back of your hand. You notice her injection has something to it. “Hey, what the hell?”

Everything quickly becomes blurry; you struggle to keep your eyes open, and when you do manage to, you instantly feel sick, noticing the walls around you keep changing. You look up and see a man in scrubs pushing your bed, with the same nurse who knocked you out beside him.

“Peter?”

Smirking, Peter pulls down the mask covering his face. “I always said you weren’t dense, Mori.”

—

“I don’t understand; explain it again.”

Peter rolls his eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh. “I’ve already told you the plan twice.”

“You probably shouldn’t have drugged me then.”

He puts one of his sharp claws underneath your chin and says, “Careful.”

“Stiles won’t help me hack into Scott’s laptop until he knows you’re safe and sound." His voice oozes with sarcasm. “I need both Scott and Derek to kill the Argents.”

“Scott will never help you.”

“Oh, he will.” Peter pulls out a mobile from his pocket and dials; the phone only rings for a few seconds before someone answers. “As promised, I’ve not harmed her yet.”

“𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚒, 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚒!”

“Stiles!”

“𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢?”

You didn’t know how to answer him. Your cuts and bruises were beginning to heal on their own, but you were stuck alone in a room with the alpha. “I’m with Peter.”

“Time to hold up your end of the deal, Stiles.”

“𝙾𝚔𝚊𝚢, 𝚞𝚖, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜.”

Peter smiles with a strange look in his eyes, twirling your hair around his finger while you listen to Stiles typing on a laptop through the phone.

“𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝. 𝙸𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝙳𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎.”

Peter slams the phone down, causing it to break. He seems lost in the light for a while before turning to you and running his claw along your jawline before pricking your skin just below your ear enough for it to bleed. "Fascinating." His eyes glow slightly as he watches them heal. Peter shifts his gaze to meet yours. “Did you know your brother is back in town?”

“K—Kyle?”

“Yes, and we wouldn’t want anything to happen to him, now would we?”

You shake your head and say, “No, what is it you want from me?”

“The Argents want to leave, but you're going to get Kate and Allison to Derek’s location within the next hour.”

“And in exchange, you won’t hurt my brother, Stiles, Scott, Derek, or Lydia?”

He nods.

“And what if I can’t?” Tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t know Allison that well; she wouldn’t just skip plans on leaving town to hang out with me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you exactly what to say. And if you tell anyone what we are planning, even Stiles, you can kiss your parents and brother goodbye.”

—

As you step further into the forest, you realize that you don't know what to do or how completely out of your depth you are. You did exactly as Peter said and called Allison and tearfully told her Scott had lied to you as well about being a werewolf, but you knew where he was and wanted to confront him.

It hadn’t sunk in how big of a mistake you made until you saw both Kate and Allison welding weapons when they got out of Kate’s car. You felt even more unease when Kate handed you a pellet gun. “Do you know how to handle this?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, and try to push the gun back to her. “I’ve never even held one.”

“Take it,” she says firmly. “Trust me, we are dealing with rabid dogs whose only purpose is to kill.”

“She’s right, Mori; you need to be able to protect yourself.”

It was sad to see how brainwashed Allison had become. Reluctantly, you took the gun from Kate.

You were trying so hard to keep your brother and friends safe from Peter that you hadn’t thought about the Argents trying to kill them. You clear your throat. “What are you planning on doing to Scott once you find him?”

Kate slows her pace, so Allison can’t hear anything her aunt says. Kate cocks her brow and says, “Whatever's necessary to stop him from harming Lydia. Is that going to be a problem?”

You remain silent. Stiles had texted you, saying Kate was the one who set the fire in The Hale’s house, killing everyone.

Kate was a cold-blooded killer; at least that’s what you kept telling yourself to justify handing her over to the alpha to protect your friends.

“Shh,” Kate says, putting her fingers to her lips. “You hear that?”

Allison nods, but you look around clueless until you spot Derek and Scott walking towards what remains of the Hale house. Out the corner of your eye, you notice Kate raising her gun, and without thinking it through, you kick Kate in the shin and say, “Scott, Derek, run!”

Kate throws you to the ground easily and holds you there while pointing her arrow at Derek.

“You don’t need to do this,” you plead. “Allison, you’re not a murderer; just let them go.”

She ignores you and shoots Derek in the shoulder and then in the leg before firing a flash bolt. The flash causes your vision to become fuzzy, and the feeling of being dragged underwater returns.

—

You feel weak as someone helps you stand. “Derek?”

“You good?”

You nod. “Are you; you’ve just been shot twice?”

Shooting a glare in Allison’s direction, he scoffs, “I’m fine.”

Hearing a clattering sound coming from his home, he shoots his head in that direction. “What’s wrong?”

“Scott’s in trouble.”

“Go, go.” When Derek lets go, you stumble slightly but hold onto a tree for support.

You feel like you’re burning up, but there’s nothing physically wrong with you. You roll up your sleeves to look at the bite mark on your arm and are horrified to see it was completely healed. The sudden urge to scream overtakes you, so you do. As you scream, you feel a wave of panic and frustration as the sound of rushing water overflows all your other senses. You only come back to reality when you feel a familiar warmth of arms wrapping around you.

You don’t even need to open your eyes to know who it is, “Stiles.”

“It’s okay.”

When the smell of smoke fills your nostrils, you open your eyes to see Peter's burning body falling to the ground. Squeeze Stiles tightly. “What am I?”

He whispers, “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

You cling to Stiles as Scott chases after Derek, begging him not to kill Peter. “Wait! You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I'm dead. Her father, her family—what am I supposed to do?”

Claws extend from Derek’s nails as he raises his arm up.

“Wait! No, no! Don't!”

Derek slashes Peter's throat, then slowly stands, and I’m a distorted voice saying, “I'm the Alpha now.”

—

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 —

𝙻𝚢𝚍𝚒𝚊’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍.

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝 —

𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚝? 𝙸𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 —

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 —

𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢.

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 —

𝙰𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎, 𝙱𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘

Gulping down, you shove the phone into your pocket; you couldn’t think straight with different messages coming through at once.

“Where do they think you are?

“At home, I guess.”

“Why did you come here alone?”

Derek lets out a dark chuckle as he walks across the creaking floorboards. His house was dark, and the only part of him you could see was his glowing red eyes. But unlike with Peter, you didn’t feel scared; you knew Derek wouldn’t hurt you.

“I want to know what I am.”

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

[cruel-seduction]

It’s like a full-blown addiction, but instead of drugs or booze, it’s this fictional guy who’s got her wrapped around his finger. She knows it’s fucked up—knows she’s out here daydreaming about someone who’s not even real—but who cares? This guy? He’s everything. He’s charming in the worst ways, flawed in every possible sense, but there’s just something about him that has her hooked. He doesn’t even know she exists, but she’s ready to fight anyone who says a word against him. Seriously, she’ll defend his honor like it’s a fucking life-or-death mission.

He’s a goddamn trainwreck, but he’s her trainwreck. She’ll put up with all his baggage, his emotional scars, his dark sides, because somehow, that brokenness makes him feel more real to her than any real guy could. He’s messed up, but she’ll fix him in her head every single time. Maybe it’s that thrill of knowing he’s dangerous and untouchable that makes him even more irresistible. He might break her heart in a hundred ways, but it’s the kind of heartbreak that makes her feel alive, even if it hurts like hell.

And it’s never gonna happen, right? She knows that. He’s not gonna waltz into her life and sweep her off her feet. But it doesn’t matter. Because she gets to have him on her terms—no messy reality, no awkward first dates, no risking her heart for real. He’s always there when she needs him, in that perfect little bubble of fantasy she’s built for herself. And maybe she’s a little crazy for it, but at least with him, she’s never disappointed. Every time she replays his scenes, reads the fanfics, imagines their future together—it's like a high she can never quite shake. She knows it's all just a mindfuck, but she’s never felt more alive.

[lilaccmilk]

Alright so think about…….men who look very innocent at first, wide doe eyes FULL of admiration. They look so happy and are goofy. Literal sunshines and fluff clouds. Always making sure you’re comfortable, being the best boyfriends. Looking out for you, following the sidewalk rule and all that. They kiss you so eagerly (you’re their first kiss.)

But then in the privacy of your closed doors, they turn into rough doms. Filling you up to the brim, constantly hitting that one spot inside you. Your gummy walls snug around them, trying to just—

“Breathe, love come on.” They’re still so tender with their words. Kissing your forehead, while thrusting you into a pace that is making you see stars. Then as if all that wasn’t enough, the press down on your stomach, making you feel them even more deeply.

“You feel me right here yeah, pretty girl? Tell me –hah– how you feel f’me? C’mon pretty speak.” They ask with a smirk. And just as you’re even trying to answer, they increase their pace. Not even allowing you to speak, as if you forming coherent thought after all this is a personal insult to them. Even after you reach your climax, they’re still going on. “One more f’me please? You can do that right?” They ask breathlessly as you nod, overstimulating both you and themselves.

But after you’re done, they’re the kings of aftercare, kissing your forehead, running a bath, spooning you as you both sleep.

──────────────────

You picked a dance with the devil, and you lucked out- Swim // Chase Atlantic

Yuta Okkotsu, Choso Kamo, Xavier (L&DS), Stiles Stilinski, Yuji Itadori + your favs!

a/n: i have a thing for the nickname ‘pretty girl’ ^_^

[nyra-42]

Just me . . . reopening tumblr for the third time in the last 30 minutes checking to see if anyone posted anything new since I checked 5 minutes ago.

[nobitchs-world]

If I ever get these men in my claws I will transform into the ultimate freak

[sundrop-writes]

Stupid For You

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Hey - tell me what you want me to say. You know I’m Stupid For You.

I’ll take what I can get.

The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you, and everybody wants you.

Summary:

Stiles tried to return your panties - he really did.

But he still has the contraband in his possession, and he accidentally drops the underwear in the locker room in front of the entire lacrosse team. To cover up the fact that he stole them, he lies and says that he got them from you after a hook-up. And surprisingly - you back up his story?

Only with the promise that he helps you turn his lie into the truth.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 11,900

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Before you read this fic, be sure to read BRAINWASHED. This fic can be read as a standalone, but you get more Stiles goodness by reading both, and the context of this one will make more sense if you read the other fic first.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; this fic DOES use Y/N; as with the previous fic - the reader is implied to be fat/plus-sized; also again - for argument's sake, even though the character's in this fic are in high school, everyone is at least 18 (and the fic was inspired by a 20 something actor, so imagine the characters to be whatever age you want); mentions of panty stealing (carried over from the previous fic - Stiles stole a pair of the reader's panties in that fic and still has them in his possession); mentions of Stiles masturbating, but not described in detail like last time; mentions of Stiles having sexual fantasies about the reader; the rest of the lacrosse team finds Stiles with the panties and mocks him for it - they mock him for potentially having the panties to wear them and call him a 'cross-dresser', so I guess the warning here is transphobia and transphobic ideas (which would be very typical of high school boys, especially around the time this show was made in 2011); mentions of other members of the lacrosse team finding the reader sexually attractive (it is implied that the reader is generally known as a hot, attractive girl); mention of the reader wearing a 'slutty' Halloween costume to a party (Stiles has a picture of it that he 'loves'); for the actual smut section - the reader is dominant and Stiles is submissive; size kink - Stiles likes being manhandled by the reader because he is thin and skinny; the reader imposes rules on Stiles as a dom and he follows them, but there is no safeword implemented or needed (as the writer, I say they don't need one because they will never be put in danger of using one) (because they are fictional characters and their hard 'nos' will never come into play and only things they want will happen); orgasm restriction - Stiles has to ask the reader in order for permission before cumming; bondage - the reader uses a scarf to tie Stiles's wrists to the bed; the reader gives Stiles a handjob; lots of dirty talk; orgasm denial/edging (towards Stiles); the reader calls Stiles: needy boy, good boy, babe, baby, sweetheart; undertones of humiliation kink; undertones of pain kink (nothing severe, but Stiles does like a bit of pain); begging (from Stiles, a lot); protected penis in vagina sex (they DO use a condom this time) (different, I know); Stiles sucks on the reader's tits; Stiles eats the reader's pussy; thigh riding - Stiles grinds against the reader's thigh to cum; praise kink - towards Stiles; the reader calls Stiles 'pretty'; undertones of dumbification kink; I believe that is finally it. I hope you all enjoy!!

A/N: So, I have some mixed feelings about releasing this fic. Currently, I am only rushing to edit and release it in order to get it off my plate, and I want to do so before the end of the year. I wrote this during the hiatus, when I was writing fics without editing them and I really enjoyed getting to write a fic and go onto the sequel without having to stop and think too much about it. But to me, the first fic feels naturally complete. And so I didn't really like people nagging and continually asking for a sequel to the other fic as if it's not a complete fic on its own. It's only recently that I found a way to put it into words. Whenever I release a fic and people only care about seeing a sequel or a second part (especially if it's a oneshot with an intentional ending and people ask for a sequel like it's something so urgent), it makes me feel like that fic is not good enough because people view that fic as incomplete on its own. I know people think it's a compliment or flattering to ask for a sequel, but to me, if you like my writing, ask for me to write more for those same characters or in that same fandom - but if you are constantly asking for a sequel to a specific fic, it makes me think that you think that fic is not good and it needs to be completed in some way. But anyway - I tried to remember why I had fun writing this fic in the first place, and if anybody starts asking for a 'part three', I will start swinging. (THERE WILL NOT BE A PART THREE.) Also, when I originally wrote this, I was watching Season 1 and I had not met Isaac yet, so for my own fun, as my own special treat, I added Isaac to the locker room scene. Because he is my baby. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!

...

A week later, Stiles still had not returned the stolen panties to you. 

It was something that he kept meaning to do. Honestly, he really did. 

But he just never got the chance to. 

Somehow, in that entire week, he had never been left alone in your room. Not for long enough to actually figure out what to do with the stolen goods. Should he leave them in your hamper and let you find them in the laundry? Should he slip them back into your drawer like nothing had happened since, technically, they were clean? He always ended up panicking and shoving them back into his bag whenever he heard you coming back down the hall. 

On other nights when the two of you had been studying together, it had been at his place instead of yours. And any time he had gone over to your house, you had been with him pretty much the whole time. 

And okay - maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe you had taken bathroom breaks or left the room for a while because your mom wanted to talk to you. Or you ran downstairs to grab a pizza that you had ordered to share with him - but every time he opened his backpack to grab the panties in order to put them back, he felt some insane thing inside his head telling him that he just couldn’t do it. Part of him thought that it was fear over getting caught - the idea that you would walk back into the room just in time to see him with the evidence in hand. 

But deep down, he knew it was a possessiveness. The idea that these panties were now his. They belonged to him now and he didn’t want to put them back. Those panties were his prize - his special, secret little part of you. And he couldn’t give that up. Not yet. 

He hadn’t jacked off with them since that first time. Well, he hadn’t specifically put them around his cock and made a mess of them in the same way. But he held them in a clean hand and enjoyed the texture of the lace, enjoyed the thought of you wearing them - while he used his other lubed hand to make himself cum. And he had done that every single night, sometimes twice, since he had taken them. It was becoming a bit of a worrying habit. 

He was wondering if you had noticed them gone yet. 

Maybe, when he finally did get rid of them, he wouldn’t return them back to you - he would have to burn them or something, just to get rid of the evidence. And then he would have to go on believing that you either hadn’t noticed the specific pair gone or you went on thinking that you had simply just lost them. 

But he couldn’t dwell on that for too long - because he did actually have other things to do besides viciously jerking off to thoughts about you. Even though that activity alone took up way too much of his time these days. Surprisingly, he was doing a lot better in his classes thanks to studying with you (he actually managed to retain a lot more of the material when you explained it to him), and he had just made First Line of the lacrosse team due to a horrible outbreak of pink eye. So things in his life were really looking up. 

The team funneled into the locker room, sweaty and tired after their practice, but personally - Stiles was glowing. 

He felt like he had done particularly well that day, and you had shown up to watch his practice. Even if Coach kept getting his name wrong and you had almost stormed into the middle of the field to scream at him about it. Overall, it was a good day. And he had a study date with you planned after this, so he had nothing but excitement brewing in his stomach at the idea of getting to spend more time with you. 

But then - it happened. 

He had almost completely forgotten that the contraband stolen panties were even in his bag. The item had become such a normal part of his life now that he hadn’t even considered what might happen if someone else found them on his person. So he thought nothing of putting his bag on the bench in the middle of the room and rooting through it, wide open, looking for the fresh clothes he had brought with him. (Of course, the only reason he had even brought fresh clothes was because he knew he would be hanging out with you later, and he wanted to avoid another Mustard Stain Incident.) 

When he took out these fresh clothes and began dressing (fresh out of the showers, of course) - it was just a tiny blur in the corner of his eye. Just a little streak of purple falling to the floor. As he put his second foot into his jeans, he spotted them, right there, sitting in the middle of the locker room floor - and his heart stopped. 

Naturally - someone else spotted them too. 

And just as Stiles raced to pick them up, another hand snatched them out from under him. 

“Woah, Stiles.” Danny’s voice chuckled, rising back to his full height. “Are these yours?” 

Mockery was dripping in every inch of his words, and Stiles’s heart raced. He rushed to pull his pants up, not yet fastening his zipper, and he glared at Danny, entirely lost for words. He moved to snatch the purple lace panties where Danny was dangling them off one finger, partly disgusted, partly amused. 

Naturally, Danny dodged the move, still looking at Stiles with mockery written all over his face. 

“Ya know, this really isn’t your color - red would look much better on you.” Danny smirked. 

Wait - he thought that Stiles had them because he had been wearing them? 

This comment easily caught Jackson’s attention, who slammed his locker door shut and moved to see what his friend was talking about. 

“Oh my god,” He chuckled, looking at the item in Danny’s hand and then back to Stiles, amusement spreading into a horrible grin across his face. “You’re a cross-dresser! This is too good. I always knew you were a freak, but this just brings it to a whole new level.” 

Jackson’s loud voice caught the attention of the entire team, who all craned their necks to see what he spoke of - including Scott, who practically ran around the corner with his hair still soaking wet and some suds dripping off him, a towel hastily wrapped around his waist as he raced to see what Jackson meant. 

“What?” Scott balked, looking at Stiles entirely confused. 

“Look, they’re not mine!” 

Stiles barked, panic setting in as he realized how fast the rumor would spread. It would be incredibly juicy gossip, if it were true (and most people didn’t care if gossip was true or not, which would make it spread even faster) - so he rushed to stamp it out before that could happen. 

“They belong to Y/N!” 

With this harsh declaration, he reached out and snatched them back, and Danny was too shocked by these words to move away this time. 

The room fell deadly silent, save for the distant hum of the shower that Scott had left running in his haste to watch the confrontation unfold. Everyone was staring at Stiles unabashedly now, very clearly shocked by his words. 

Fuck. 

Stiles’s heartbeat ramped up again. He had been so quick to try and exonerate himself that he had walked into a whole new problem: 

Now everyone on the team would find out that he was a panty-stealing pervert. And he wasn’t sure which reputation was worse: that, or being assumed to be a secret cross-dresser. 

“Seriously?” Isaac asked, being the first one to speak up and break the silence. “Because if you of all people managed to hit that,” He let out a low whistle, let a train blowing out a hoot of steam. “I admire you. She is so fucking hot. Normally she doesn’t give guys at this school the time of day. How did you-?” 

“No, no fucking way, they’re not hers.” Jackson scoffed, cutting off Isaac’s congratulatory words, immediately in disbelief. His natural instinct was to think that Stiles would never be able to get with someone as hot as you. “She’s a ten and you’re a solid three. Maybe. In the dark. With a bag on your head. That so did not happen.” 

Stiles frowned at the insult, but he was relieved that nobody suspected that he had stolen the underwear. Nobody had seen through him to the much more likely truth. 

“Come on, he’s like a four.” Danny added on. “He could easily be a seven if he changed his hair.” 

Feeling suddenly self conscious, Stiles put a hand up to his head - and felt entirely confused about where this conversation was going. 

“You’re getting off topic,” Scott piped up, looking between Danny and Stiles, his face nothing but pure confusion. “You’re telling us that you finally, actually went for it?” 

He was shocked that you and Stiles had gotten together without him knowing it. And he was slightly disappointed that his best friend had gotten some action with his long-time crush without telling him about it. 

“Yeah, come on - give us some details.” Isaac added on with a grin.

“Yes, yes I did! I finally went for it.” Stiles replied, mocking confidence, puffing out his chest. “Y/N and I hooked up in my Jeep last week. And these are hers,” He added on, proudly holding up the underwear as his prize. 

If he was going to screw himself with a lie, he might as well make it a big one. 

“Really?” Jackson posed, clearly still not believing him. “So - how did it go down? Did you get to second base? Third?” 

“Uh… remind me of the bases again?” Stiles muttered. 

Isaac rolled his eyes, and Scott looked as though he was making calculations in his head. 

“What was it - handjob? Blowie? Did you finger her? When did you get those?” Jackson persisted. “Is she a screamer?” 

Stiles’s gut twisted. So he was going to need details for his fake story. 

“You are so utterly barbaric.” Danny muttered, turning back to his locker, clearly tuning out of the conversation now that it had gotten too ‘straight’ for him. 

“Gross!” Scott disrupted Stiles’s internal panic with a face of twisted disgust. “Can we not talk about one of my best friends like this? Please?” 

“Jesus, Scott, don’t ruin this for me,” Isaac whined, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, McCall, shut it.” Jackson grunted, dismissing him. “I just wanna know if Stiles here is lying.” 

Scott simply rolled his eyes and retreated back to the shower. He was someone who truly believed Stiles at his word. Even if he had never smelled the pheromones of sex on him, he guessed that ‘hooked up’ meant something else to Stiles. 

Stiles hated that this left him alone with several pairs of eyes dissecting him - the guys on the team who were perverted and gossipy enough to want to know the details of his hook-up with you. 

“Well - I’m not lying.” Stiles hissed through his teeth. “She - we. Well - we made-out in the backseat. And then - she - she rode my dick. Hard.” He said, knowing that his tone didn’t sound the most confident. But he supposedly had proof right there in the form of your underwear. 

“Hmm, really?” Jackson replied, still not convinced. “You know what? Why don’t we just go and ask Y/N about this whole thing? She and Lydia are waiting outside, aren’t they?” 

Oh fuck. 

Stiles was screwed. So, so screwed. 

His stomach rose up into his throat and he couldn’t get words out, couldn’t scream out ‘no’, couldn’t do anything to stop Jackson (who was fully dressed and ready) as he snatched the underwear out of Stiles’s hand and marched out into the hallway. All Stiles could do was rush out into the hallway in pursuit, following Jackson and the group of gawking looky-loos that had followed who now seemed very interested in this piece of drama. 

Stiles didn’t even have time to pay attention to the fact that he wasn’t yet dressed himself - he didn’t have a shirt or shoes on and his pants weren’t even fastened. He couldn’t bring himself to mind because he was about to be outed as a thief and a pervert, and likely about to be violently jumped by the entire team for it. 

He wished that he still had his lacrosse pads on. 

You and Lydia were standing against a couple of random lockers, chatting idly, and you both looked utterly confused by the mob approaching. Lydia looked even more confused (with a hint of disgust) when she saw that Stiles was still half naked, and if Stiles wasn’t flooded with panic, he might have noticed you raking your eyes over his torso with a certain hunger and then licking your lips. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackson smiled at you trying to be charming. “These fell out of-” He held up the underwear to show you, and you immediately frowned. 

“Ew! Why do you have them?” You cut him off, snatching them back before he could finish his sentence. 

“Are those your underwear?” Lydia asked, looking between you and Jackson with anger brewing. “Jackson, why do you have another girl’s underwear?” She ground out sharply. 

“Well, as I was saying,” He said, clearly annoyed. “Those fell out of Stiles’s backpack. And he claims that he only has them because he hooked up with you, Y/N,” 

You and Lydia both looked at Stiles - you, with a certain content glow in your eyes, and Lydia, glaring at him while her lips curled in unhidden disgust. Jackson stood there with a smirk, as though waiting to be right, and there was a moment where nobody spoke that Stiles swore his heart swelled up and climbed out of his throat. 

Then, you let out a soft laugh and said: 

“Yeah. We did. Why is this such big news?” 

Jackson glared at you and Lydia’s expression of disgust became even more prominent. Stiles became dizzy with shock and he hoped that nobody noticed the way his chest flexed as he let out a breath of relief. 

Thank God - you were covering for him. 

Wait. Why were you covering for him? 

“He and I have been hooking up for months now. We didn’t want to parade it around the school as gossip and I made him promise that I wouldn’t become locker room talk,” You stressed these words, giving him a small glare. 

Behind Jackson, Isaac’s face became painted with guilt. 

“But it’s true.” You said, giving Stiles an oddly sultry look. He knew he was standing there with his mouth stupidly agape, but he just couldn’t find it in him to close his mouth. “The last time we hooked up, I gave him these panties in case he got lonely on nights I can’t visit.” 

You reached out, running a single finger along his bare torso from sternum right to the waistband of his underwear where they were sticking out of his jeans - and yup, his dick was definitely ballooning to life now. 

“I didn’t intend for everybody on the lacrosse team to put their grubby hands all over them.” You said this sharply, glaring at Jackson now. 

He simply rolled his eyes in reply. Clearly, he hated the idea that he had been wrong, and he was pouting in silence now. 

“Okay, this has been sufficiently gross.” Lydia announced, effectively ending the conversation. “Jackson, can you go get your stuff so we can leave? We have dinner with my mom at five, and-” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jackson sighed, rolling his eyes again. 

“Stiles, you better hurry up too.” You told him. “I need to get that bra I left in the back of your Jeep.” 

And then - much to his shock, you leaned in and laid a kiss right on his lips. Firm, but fast. Laying a claim on him right in front of everyone. Owning up to the story materially as much as you had with your words. 

If it hadn’t been for Jackson slapping him on the shoulder, Stiles would have been frozen with shock long after you pulled away. But then, he was on autopilot, walking back to the locker room with Jackson and the other onlookers who were whispering in hushed tones about him ‘banging such a hot girl’. 

“I gotta tell you, Stilinski, I did not think that you had it in you.” Jackson told him, this being a compliment coming from him. “But I guess somehow, you ended up with a ten.” 

“I definitely want more details later.” Isaac told him in a low whisper before he returned back to his own locker. 

Somehow - Stiles had come out on top in this situation. 

In the hallway behind them, Lydia sighed and locked you in a judgemental gaze. 

“Really? Stiles?” She asked, harshness seeping through her voice. 

“What?” You shrugged. “He’s cute.” 

Lydia waited for further explanation, and you folded. 

“...And he’s easy to boss around. I like it when he gets flustered from simple instructions, but then does it anyway.” 

“Oh.” Lydia nodded. “So it’s a kink thing.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. You couldn’t entirely disagree with her. 

… 

It wasn’t until Stiles was nearly finished dressing, sitting on the bench tying his shoes that it truly hit him: 

He was still utterly screwed. 

Even if the guys on the team thought he was some high school hero for somehow managing to get into your pants (some of them high-fiving him and patting him on the shoulder in congratulations before they left the locker room). And even if, for some bizarre reason, you had chosen to cover for him in front of everyone (he put that on you being a loyal best friend and quite literally not wanting to air your dirty laundry in front of everyone) - you still knew the truth. You and Stiles might be the only people who knew, but both of you still knew the truth. 

For a minute there, he had been deluded enough to start believing his own bullshit story. But it was still complete bullshit. 

There hadn’t been some heat of the moment romp in the back of his Jeep that resulted in you naked for him, losing your underwear or giving them to him as a reward. He was still a pathetic virgin who had stolen them and had no right to have them in the first place. He still had to face you, likely knowing that this was the end of your friendship, because you were the only person who knew about the horrible thing that he had done. 

Stiles dreaded facing you, but he knew that he couldn’t hide out in the locker room forever. So he grabbed his gear and he braved his way into the parking lot, where you were now waiting by the Jeep since Lydia had left with Jackson. You were distracted, looking at something on your phone, and Stiles savored the few moments he had left to admire your beauty before you would declare that you hated him forever and never speak to him again. 

In all honesty, Stiles expected you to slap him, yell at him, and then leave. He expected you to, at the very least, tell him that the friendship was over and that he should never talk to you again. 

He was entirely surprised when he approached you and nothing of that nature happened. 

Instead, you gave him a cold, uninterested look before you said: 

“Door.” 

In the most deadpan voice ever, while motioning to the passenger’s side door - oh, of course. Obviously meaning for him to open the door for you. 

It was something he usually did upon instinct anyway (always bending over backwards to impress you) but today, the intense dread hanging over his head had caused him to forget. 

He rushed to get the door for you and you climbed into the passenger’s seat as you usually did, still not yet speaking to him. So then he busied himself with putting his gear in the back, still feeling anxiety curl in his gut at the conversation that would inevitably take place during the ride home. At least you still felt okay with riding with him. Perhaps the friendship wasn’t entirely ruined after all. 

He climbed into the driver’s seat and began fumbling with his keys in nervous, shaky hands, not yet ready to look you in the eye. You were staring at yourself in the flip-down mirror, fixing your hair, wiping off some lip gloss that had smeared. Usually this would be a moment he would absolutely drink in, loving to stare at you while you did such menial tasks. But today, after being caught doing such a horrible thing, he was absolutely drenched in guilt and he just couldn’t bring himself to face you. 

The two of you simmered in the silence for a few moments. He was waiting for you to bring it up - for you to scream, yell, hit him, do something. 

He was surprised by what came next. 

“You said your dad isn’t gonna be home tonight, right?” You posed, still looking in the mirror rather than at him. 

It was what he had told you at lunch, inviting you over to watch some horror movies that you had been bugging him to see. 

He had guessed those plans would be canceled, hinging on what had just happened. 

“Uh, yeah.” He said, confirming it once again. “He’s working the night shift.” 

“Good. We’ll go to your place then.” 

You thought he would start to drive at this confirmation, but he was still unsettled by anxiety. He was still waiting for you to acknowledge it, at least. 

“Ugh, okay… are you gonna yell at me?” He burst out, knowing that it was incredibly stupid, asking to be yelled at, but he truly didn’t know what else to do at this point. You gave him a strange look, almost confused, and ran his hands over his face in frustration. “Come on! We both know what happened!” 

“Stiles, my, my… what are you talking about?” 

Your voice was dripping with sarcasm and your eyes were filled with determined mischief, and he knew then and there - you wanted him to say it. You wanted him to blatantly confirm in his own words what he had done. 

Stiles let out a harsh sigh, leaning his head down and accidentally bumping his forehead against the steering wheel in a way that made the horn dully beep, the knot growing larger and tighter in his gut. 

“Come on, you know…” 

He trailed off, hoping that you wouldn’t actually force him to say it. He sat upright again, and you continued to look at him expectantly, patiently, and he swallowed around the terrible dryness in his throat before he forced himself to say it. 

“I - I stole your underwear and kept them in my bag.” 

You both knew that he was leaving out the part where he had masturbated with them. Even if you had no proof of that, it was starkly obvious to you. 

But you decided not to push him about that detail. (For now.) 

“Oh. That.” You said, continuing to sound utterly sarcastic in your cluelessness. 

Then your tone switched to something oddly genuine as you said something he never would have expected. 

“I’ve been waiting for like a week to see if you even had them. I kind of thought I was going crazy. I thought maybe my cat stole them because you weren’t fessing up and you didn’t try to bring them back,” You sighed. “I was worried my whole plan failed.” 

Something inside of Stiles snapped, and he thought it was the last branch on his tree of his sanity. He chose not to worry about it for now. 

“Y - your plan?” He stuttered out, barely grasping at the reality of what you had meant. 

You had wanted him to find your underwear? You wanted him to take them? You wanted him to-? 

You let out a bright, amused laugh. 

“Yes, dummy!” You said, reaching up and poking the side of his head while he stared at you in utter shock. “I left the panties there for you to take. You’re cute, but god - you’re really dense sometimes.” You let out a sigh. “Now drive, please. As long as the blood currently trapped in your dick isn’t gonna distract you too much.” 

He hated that he got a sick thrill from you mocking him and calling him ‘cute, but dense’. But he was glad that he was used to driving with boners that you had given him, because it didn’t distract him too horribly. Thoughts of what would happen when the two of you got there had him running a few stops signs, though. 

…

Stiles still wasn’t entirely sure how the heinous crime of stealing your panties had gotten him into this glorious position, but with the way things were going, he no longer cared to question it. 

The minute that the two of you got through his bedroom door, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He struggled to keep up, clumsy but entirely excited against the movement of your mouth, wondering if he had somehow gotten sucked into another heated daydream. 

But no, that couldn’t be true - because this was so much fucking better. 

The smell of your perfume in his nose, the little puffing breaths you let out against his cheek, the little moans that emanated from your throat. And holy hell, the feeling of your tongue shoving past his lips that caused him to let out a pathetic moan of his own as you seemed determined to filthily fuck his mouth with it. 

You were a lot more aggressive in real life than you were in his dreams. 

But he fucking loved it. He loved it so much. 

His cock was already throbbing in his pants, likely staining his boxers with copious amounts of precum as you walked him back toward the bed. You then used the hand you had in the middle of his chest to shove him roughly back onto it. 

“Oh my god.” 

He squeaked out the words at the feeling of being manhandled by you - given, he knew he didn’t weigh that much and he had made no effort to put up a fight, but it was still hot to know that you could shove him around so easily. Which was something he would have to mentally unpack with himself later. But for now, he would simply just enjoy it. 

While his dick continued to ache harder, he looked up at you in awe. You were standing at the foot of the bed with your lip gloss smeared, your chest heaving slightly with a wicked grin on your face. Stiles had never seen a more beautiful predator in all his life. The look in your eyes told him that he was about to be absolutely devoured by you - and he couldn’t fucking wait. 

“Y/N, please-” He was about to begin begging, but you cut him off sharply. 

“Shut up.” You barked, and he felt a beautiful wave of hormones crash over his body at this. You were much more aggressive than in his dreams. It was so perfect. “No more talking now.” 

You put a knee on the bed between where his thighs had naturally draped open and you leaned over his body, crowding tightly into his personal space. He hoped that the needy whine he couldn’t contain as you raked your nails across his scalp wouldn’t count as ‘talking’. He was desperate to follow your rules - so desperate to be a good boy for you. 

“You will do everything I tell you to.” You whispered against his lips, and he nearly began shaking as he resisted the urge to close the gap and kiss you again. “Unless you want me to tell all the boys on the team that you’re actually a filthy perv who stole my panties?” 

“Y-” He nearly gave a verbal confirmation of this, but then he remembered what you had said. 

No more talking. 

Instead, quickly picking up on following the rules, Stiles nodded his head aggressively. 

“From now on, you do not look at any other girl, you do not touch any other girl, you belong to me - do you understand?” 

He had no clue what ‘other girls’ you thought he might possibly be touching, or even talking to in a non-platonic way, but he got another tight thrill at being claimed as yours. He wanted so badly to be yours - to be your good boy. 

He nodded aggressively again - his tongue lolling out of his mouth, slick with want, practically drooling down his chin like a dog at this point, his eyes staring at you with a hypnotized kind of need. 

“When we are having sex, you do not speak unless prompted, you do not cum unless I give you permission, and from now on - you do not touch yourself unless I tell you to.” 

His cock throbbed weakly in protest at this. He swallowed thickly, his throat straining with complaints about your words. He knew it would be difficult to go from jerking off every morning and every night to likely not at all, but fuck - you, on top of him, you wanting to have sex with him - it was more than a fair price to pay. 

If someone had told him a week ago that he would be in this position, he would have given up anything for it. 

So naturally, he nodded again. 

“Do you understand?” 

He stayed silent, believing that he was following your rules. 

“Tell me that you understand.” 

“I understand.” Stiles breathed out in a rush, nodding again. 

“Good. Now take off your clothes.” 

You got off the bed again and he was momentarily distracted by watching you shuffle through your bag for something, but then he remembered the instruction. You wanted him to take off his clothes. You actually wanted to touch him. 

Stiles rushed to strip and he didn’t have time to be self conscious before you were kissing him again, drowning him in hot, open-mouthed kisses as he stepped out of his underwear and jeans where they were pooled around his ankles. You pushed him onto the bed again and this time followed him, straddling his waist while still fully clothed yourself. Wearing the shirt, skirt, and tights you had worn to school that day, making for an odd sensation as the fabric covering your hot cunt rubbed against his now bare, very hard dick. 

He didn’t think anything of it when you grabbed his hands and brought them above his head - but then there was fabric encircling his wrists, and he pulled himself away from your mouth to blink up dumbly, wondering what you were doing. 

You had gotten a scarf out of your bag, and you were tying him to the bedpost. 

“Remember what I said?” You grinned at him, tying a knot that was surprisingly secure. “Good boys get rewards, and bad boys get spanked.” 

He tugged experimentally on the hold, and it was pretty firm. Not tight enough to cut off his circulation - but he definitely didn’t see himself getting out of it without help. 

His stomach jumped as he wondered which you had deemed him as - good or bad. Especially because he was now tied up, completely at your mercy. He was splayed out on his back, so this wouldn’t be an optimal position to spank him in. But theoretically, you would do whatever else you wanted to him. And that thought sent an odd tingle through his body, causing a wonderful jolt through his cock.  

“I’m gonna give you a chance to earn a reward, Stiles.” You told him, delivering another messy kiss. “You gonna be a good boy for me?” 

“Yes.” He answered eagerly. “Fuck, yes - I wanna be good for you.” 

You grinned at this. 

He was more than eager to see what you were gonna do next. 

A sharp jolt of anxiety hit him when you sat up (leaning more of your weight on his cock, causing him to let out a pathetic moan) - he hated being separated from you already. He churned in anticipation as you took a moment to sit there and just admire him. 

Stiles was so pretty, tied up for you, ready to be devoured - his honey eyes glossed over with need and anticipation, his lips bitten pink and slightly swollen, parted in that beautifully dumb way as he heaved out shallow, desperate breaths. Yes, he was skinny - even playing lacrosse hadn’t managed to put much muscle tone on his body, but you did find a certain appeal in his lithe, thin form. You gained a certain thrill from knowing that you could so easily man-handle him, toss him down, and he really wasn’t strong enough to put up much of a fight in return. 

His cock, leaking frantically between your legs - was beautiful in its own way. A healthy six inches and nicely thick, his pubes dark, thick and untrimmed. Unkept because he definitely hadn’t been expecting anyone to see him without clothes anytime soon. Charming, in a sense. 

Just as Stiles was feeling smothered by the anticipation, by the heated gaze of your eyes running up and down his body, you then leaned to look in his bedside drawer. He wanted to scream for you not to do it, but he had a feeling that it would be breaking your rules; that it would be a ‘bad boy’ thing to do. And that would run the risk of you not touching him at all. 

You let out a laugh when you saw what was in the drawer. 

“You know, somehow I’m not surprised that this is almost empty.” You told him, bringing out the dwindling bottle of lube and placing it beside him. “You must like it really wet, huh?” 

The words were absolutely filthy coming off your lips, intentionally so on your part, but it sounded like a rhetorical question. He swallowed a whimper, but said nothing. 

“And this,” You picked up one of the many pictures he had of you in the drawer - one of you in your Halloween costume from last year. Lydia had dared you to wear something ‘slutty’, and you had shown up to her Halloween party in a black leather bra, a leather mini skirt, leather boots, and a pair of cat ears. Stiles had spent most of that night in the bathroom. “I have to say, I’m flattered.” 

You have another bright giggle before you put the picture back and then closed the drawer. 

“So - you think about me a lot, do you, Stiles?” You asked, scooting back on his thighs until you were sitting on his knees. 

Not a rhetorical question. 

He swallowed thickly, gathering himself to answer. 

“Yes.” He answered, his voice far too weak for his liking. “All the time.” 

You hummed thoughtfully at this. 

You reached to your waist, untucking your shirt from your skirt before you lifted it off completely over your head, revealing your blue lace bra to him. Dear god, you were so perfect. As you tossed your shirt off to the side, the bra strap slumped down your shoulder and he mourned over not having his hands free, wanting to gently lift it back up, or rip the whole thing off you, wanting to kiss along your shoulder-

“How often do you think about me?” You asked, reaching for the bottle of lube. 

Stiles felt a wave of shyness splash up inside of his gut. But he knew that it was useless to deny the truth now. He had already been caught, over and over again. You wouldn’t mock him now if he just admitted it. 

You cracked the top on the bottle, and the sound shook his insides - his dog-like mind so well trained to associate the sound with having his dick touched. He licked his lips, viciously trying to get his mouth to work in tandem with his brain. You had asked him to speak. He needed to speak. But that was growing more and more difficult while he stared down the ample cleavage coming out of your bra and shook with the anticipation of you about to touch his cock. 

“Every day.” He whimpered out. “All the time, I-” 

He let off a choked sound when you poured some lube into your hand and then finally, after years of him dreaming about it, you wrapped a loose, cool, wet grip around the base of his hard, leaking cock. His hips jumped up into your touch and he let out a choked sound from the back of his throat while you continued to look at him with an absolutely wicked grin. 

“Stiles,” You said his name in a firm tone, reminding him that he was supposed to be giving you an answer. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you!” He shouted, much louder than he had intended to. “All the time, I - I feel like I’m going insane. You’re too perfect, you’re too hot, I-I-I-”

“Hey, shh, baby.” You told him, running the other hand up his thigh in a way that made him gasp. 

You used that loose grip on his dick and began jerking him off, spreading the lube across him in the most leisurely way possible. It was a dull pleasure, but one so perfect because it was delivered by you. 

He had no clue how absolutely deliberate it was. But of course - everything you did with him was so deliberate, so well planned out to drive him entirely insane. 

“How often do you jerk off?” 

You asked, curiosity ripe within you as you imagined it: Stiles splayed out on this exact bed, pants around his ankles, his hand wet with lube and creating a sloppy blur on his cock as he jerked off as fast as possible, absolutely desperate to cum - his face twisted with pleasure, his thighs tensing, your name hot on his lips. 

You really wanted to know the kind of things he imagined, what made his kinky little mind tick. You wanted to know just how desperate he was to steal your panties in the first place. Did he think that he could get away without you noticing them gone or was he just too horny to care? 

You tightened your grip slightly, continuing to drag your hand up and down his dick in long, slow, deliberate strokes. You wanted him hard, throbbing, and desperate - even more so than he already was. You wanted him blinded with pleasure and begging. 

“A lot.” He breathed back, bucking his hips up to meet your touch, clearly already needy for more. 

You put a firm hand on his hip, pinning him to the bed. You tutted your tongue, scolding him. 

“Come on, Stiles.” You said, your tone somewhere between mocking and scolding. “You can be more specific than that.” 

You tightened your grip again, your hand now acting like a firm vice around his cock - something that made him moan deeply and close his eyes. You let him enjoy it for a few moments as you stroked him deeply, slowly - spreading the wetness over his cock in deep, pleasurably strokes. For the first time ever, delivering the pleasure of having a hand on his cock that wasn’t his own. 

Already, intense pleasure was knotting up in his stomach. Already - he was getting close to cumming. 

You could tell that from the way his breathing shallowed out, the way his stomach tensed. 

You pulled your hand back completely, leaving him to let out a confused sound and pop his eyes open at top speed, craning his neck up to look at you with utter disappointment while you continued to grin at him. 

“Tell me.” You instructed firmly. “How many times a week do you make yourself cum?” You continued your interrogation. When his face flashed with a streak of guilt, you changed the question. “How many times a day?” 

Stiles took a sharp breath. 

Again, he felt caught. 

“Twice.” He said it quietly, before gathering his courage. “Twice - twice a day. Usually… once in the morning and once at night.” 

You giggled. “Needy boy.” 

He was rewarded with your touch back on his cock. He let out a deep, satisfied moan as you started jerking him off again, wet and smooth, a bit faster this time. It created a lovely wet noise and he let out another moan when he heard it. 

“What do you think about when you touch yourself, Stiles?” You asked, your voice low and sultry - warm, inviting him to the possibilities. 

Perhaps, if he told you about the things he thought about, his most private and guarded thoughts, then you might make them come true. 

“You.” He moaned back almost instantly - trying to buck up into your touch again but being held down by you again. “I - I only think about you. I swear.” 

You licked your lips. 

It was something you loved to hear. But you yearned for more details. 

“Cute.” You sighed. “As flattering as that is, babe, I want specifics.” You pressed. “Specific fantasies. Come on, you must have kinks,” 

If he had to summarize it - his kink was you. 

And it was growing increasingly difficult to think with your hand pumping on his cock. 

“Your - your thighs!” Stiles blurted out frantically, saying the first thing that he thought of. 

Even now, feeling the heavy, warm fat of your thighs spread across his knees, had his cock jumping in your hand - had him buzzing and dizzy all over. It was one of his favourite parts about you, something that made him hard if your thighs brushed against him when the two of you sat too close together on the couch during a movie night. 

“Your thighs are so - so thick, and beautiful, and big, and-” He choked off into a moan when you moved your other hand to his balls, spreading some of the lube there and gently massaging them in a way that sent a jolt through his whole body, practically making him seize off the bed. 

You let out a giggle. 

“What else, baby?” 

His cock was hot and pulsing in your hand, and you knew he was close again. But you wanted him to get right to the edge before you cut him off this time. 

“I - I think about - about having your thighs wrapped around my head,” 

He choked out, stuttering as he began humping into your touch, so desperate to cum. He had pretty much forgotten about your earlier rules by now, had forgotten about asking for permission, and he just needed to cum into your touch. He needed it so badly. 

“I wanna eat you out so badly. I wanna taste you. I wanna eat your pussy. Please, please, please, please-!” 

This visceral begging tipped you off to the orgasmic delirium he was tipping into, and you squeezed your touch sharply around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming, even going so far as to give his balls a light tap in punishment. He let out a bitter gasp as his orgasm was sharply cut off, the feeling drowned bitterly in his stomach. It left his muscles so tight and left him flailing against his binds for a moment, squirming chaotically underneath you. 

“Bad boy.” You scolded him, your voice wicked and causing his dick to throb woefully in your unforgiving touch. “You didn’t ask if you could cum.” 

You leaned down and bit one of his nipples - pure teeth, unforgiving, and it made him cry out in a gargle of his own spit as his head became even dizzier. He didn’t even have the mental capacity to question why he liked the sharp spike of pain so much, especially not when his balls were throbbing so terribly, and he needed to cum so fucking badly. 

“Please?!” He cried out. “Please? Can I cum? I need it, I need-” 

“Shh, baby.” 

You hushed him again, taking your hand off his dick and leaving it to rest leaking against his stomach, running both your hands up his torso in a soothing touch as you leaned in and pressed a few sweet kisses on his open, whining mouth. 

“I’ll give you a chance to be good. Is that what you want?” 

“Please.” He replied, so desperate that he was on the verge of tears now. “I wanna be good for you, please.” 

“I’m gonna ride your pretty cock now. And if you wait to cum until I tell you,” You pressed these words hard, making sure he paid attention to this part. “Then I’ll let you eat my pussy. Does that sound like a good reward?” 

“Yes.” He replied, entirely breathy and excited. “Please, please. I’ll be good.” 

“Oh, baby. I know you will.” 

This spilled from your lips as an overly syrupy coo, and he couldn’t help but to yearn for more of that sound. 

You got off him, then, and he let out an utterly disappointed sound - instantly missing your weight and the heat of you above him. 

Stiles looked on with curiosity as you went back to your bag. His heart thumped with anticipation when you came back with a condom, and didn’t hesitate to open it and then roll it onto his still very stiff cock. (Just the few touches of you doing this had him warming with even more pleasure, and he worried that the touch of your pussy around him would cause him to cum instantly, disappointing you.) 

Then, he watched in awe as you stripped off. Your skirt, tights, and underwear, giving him a pang of disappointment that you left your bra on. You did this with intention, though, slightly worried that the sight of your bare tits would cause him to blow it too early. 

“Oh my god.” Stiles let out another whimper as you straddled him once again, putting a hand on his cock to line it up with your pussy. 

Fuck, holy fuck - this was really happening. He was really about to fuck you. He was about to fuck your perfect pussy. 

It was just as beautiful as he had imagined - covered in trimmed hair, which was glossy with your wetness. Fuck - he yearned to see that pussy spread out underneath him. He yearned to taste you. Even just feeling the heat coming off you as you lined up the tip, even through the condom - it was deadly. 

He was not going to survive this. 

He squeezed his eyes tight and held his breath, and you didn’t like that. You used your free hand to give him a light tap on the cheek - some small semblance of a slap, a grounding reminder that you were there, controlling him. 

“Hey, come on. Look at me.” 

Your words forced him to open his eyes, and he easily fell into a streak of obedience, eager to please you. His eyes snapped open and he looked right at you - absolutely enamored by your pretty face. 

“Good boy.” 

He let out another whimper at the praise. 

Then, you finally lowered yourself down onto his cock, sinking down in one smooth movement until you were fully seated - tightly wrapped around his dick and resting against his bony pelvis. 

He felt like the air had been punched out of him. That perfect, tight heat being wrapped around him - the wetness leaking out around his skin at the base of his dick, everything squeezing his cock like a vice, like you were made to fit him. It made him so dizzy, stole the air out of his lungs. It was all too perfect. 

“Oh. Oh. Oh god-” He gasped out, squirming underneath you, already intensely overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

You grabbed his jaw in one hand and held him still for another kiss, and he moaned hotly into your mouth, desperation growing inside of him. 

You started slowly grinding your hips into his pelvis, wanting to warm him up gently. As you pulled away from the kiss, he was panting frantically against your mouth, already overwhelmed. 

“Hey, shh.” You told him, smoothing your hands over his torso once again. “You gonna be good for me?” 

“Yes.” He quickly moaned in return, nodding his head eagerly. 

This was a side of Stiles that you had so quickly grown to love. You knew that you weren’t going to get enough of this - this beautiful soft obedience. Especially compared to usual sarcastic abrasiveness. 

This was your good boy. And you were going to have such a good time training him, having him learn the rules. You were heavily looking forward to shutting down his future quips on a dime with a simple threat of keeping future orgasms from him. 

You positioned your weight on your knees, then, and began lifting yourself off his cock halfway before you slammed your hips back down. You put your hands on either side of his head, between where his arms were stationed above him, still tangled up in the scarf and unable to move. After a moment, you built up a good, even pace - not quite gentle, but not entirely rough either. 

You were taking it easy on him for his first time. 

Stiles continued letting out shocked pants, sounding like a man drowning on dry land, hurriedly gasping for air. Soon, he began moaning as more wild pleasure was driven through his body from the feeling of your wet pussy gripping around his cock; from the feeling of you bouncing against his balls, from the sound of that perfect wet slap every single time you landed down on him. 

It caused a terrible need to brew in his stomach, and he knew it wouldn’t be long now. 

All too soon, he was going to cum. 

“Please!” He moaned out, trying to buck his hips up to meet yours - his muscles shaking so terribly that he couldn’t keep up with your pace and ended up just jostling wildly underneath you. “Please, please!” 

You grinned. 

You knew that you wouldn’t cum from this, but you were deeply enjoying yourself anyway. Stiles looked so pretty - so pathetic and pretty - gritting his teeth to try and hold back his sounds (which wasn’t working at all), tears rimming his eyes, a few even slipping out, his face tinging a lovely shade of pink from the exertion and the pure arousal. 

“Please ‘what’, baby?” 

You pressed, a slight edge of mocking on your voice that punched another harsh wave of arousal through his gut. It took everything he had in those moments not to cum - to hold it back. To be good for you. 

“Come on, sweetheart. You can say it. Just say the words-” 

“Please lemme cum,” He whined out, the words practically turning into a slur on his lips - mirroring exactly the way he had been begging to a fictional you as he had pumped his cock while sitting on this very bed not too long ago. “Please, please, please Y/N, please-” 

You leaned down to his ear then, whispering the words he so badly wanted to hear. 

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

But this time it was so very real. 

With your permission given, his brain fired off, finally allowing himself to let it go. He let out a guttural, almost non-human sound as he humped his hips off the bed in harsh, fast strokes while you fucked down onto him tightly, roughly grinding into him to allow him to get the most out of it. Wanting him to have the most pressure from your hot cunt in those moments while his eyes rolled back into his head and he released a thick load into the condom. 

He was even pretty like this - his mouth wide open, his long lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks, his chest heaving as he released a concert of beautiful, whorish sounds. 

When his hips stopped and his noises dissolved off into a more gentle panting, you leaned down to kiss him again. He most definitely deserved it. 

“Good boy.” You mumbled against his mouth, eager to praise him. “Such a good boy for me. You did so good.” 

This caused another sound from him, and you simply smiled as he began to kiss you back, eager and sloppy, smearing spit across your cheek while you reached up and began untying the knot in the scarf you had secured him with. 

“You want your reward now?” You asked him. 

You couldn’t lie, your cunt was thrumming at the idea of him getting between your thighs. You wondered if he would be able to make you cum. He seemed eager to please and so far, he was good at following instructions, so you could probably tell him exactly what to do to get you off. Even if he couldn’t, you would certainly enjoy the view. 

“Yes, yes, please.” He moaned against your cheek, that desperation thrashing back up inside of him. “Please, I’ve been good, please-”

“Yes, you have been.” You soothed him again. “Good boy.” 

You released him from the binds and then finally got off him, allowing his softening cock to pop free from your pussy - something that caused him to loudly moan. 

You took off the condom and tossed it into the waste basket that he had by his desk, the lube and cum seeping into the crumbled up, forgotten papers that he had there. When you came back to the bed, he was looking at you with wide, eager eyes, waiting for his next instruction. Such a good boy. You really loved how this was turning out. 

“I’m gonna lay down, and then you can get between my legs. Okay, baby?” 

He nodded eagerly again, and hopped off the bed to give you room, nearly tripping over his own feet in doing so. 

You fluffed up his pillow and then laid down, spreading your legs wide, and when you looked back to him, he was tracing every single inch of your body with a wide-eyed gaze. His mouth was agape once again, absolutely not hiding the fact that he was absolutely lustful for you, becoming utterly distracted by the sight of you (almost completely) naked in his bed, laid out just for him. 

“Stiles.” You called his name, garnering his attention once again. “Come on, baby.” 

You held out an arm, signaling for him to come over, and he eagerly climbed into the bed between your thighs. 

You thought for sure that he would make himself comfortable down between your thighs and get right to tasting you, as eagerly as he had begged for it before, but it was his turn to surprise you now. 

“Please, can you-?” He cut himself off shyly, tracing a single finger along the cup of the bra that you still wore, the last scrap of clothing hiding your body from him. “Can you take it off?” 

That sent a thrill through you. Rather than being demanding, he was still so trepidatious - wondering if he had tread too far by asking you to remove clothing, even after you had ridden his cock. 

Still, you couldn’t help but to want to tease him - just a little bit more. 

“You wanna see my tits?” You asked, running your hands up your body, teasing your fingers along the edges of the bra cups as if threatening to pull them down. “You wanna… play with my tits, Stiles?” 

“Yes.” Stiles breathed out, entirely eager. 

You could see his cock swelling back to life between his thighs already. 

“Do you think you’ve been a good enough boy for that?” You questioned, lustful eagerness in your voice. 

His answer would entirely dictate whether or not you took the bra off. 

He swallowed thickly, still nervous, his eyes flickering between your cleavage and your own eyes, as if looking for a hint at the answer. He waited a careful moment, and then finally spoke. 

“Yes.” He said, pausing for a moment as if waiting for you to argue the point before he continued. “Yes, please, I’ve been good.” 

“Hmm…” You said, pretending to think. “Alright.” 

You reached up behind you, unhooking your bra and tossing it away. When your naked breasts were finally revealed to him, his tongue lolled out of his mouth in an almost puppy-like way, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he stared hungrily at the roundness of your perfect flesh. 

This time, he didn’t even ask you before he made his next move - entirely fueled by his own eagerness and desire, he swept down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. Instantly, he let out a loud moan around your tit that told you just how much he was enjoying this, something that had your pussy getting wetter as you saw the way his eyes drifted closed with bliss while he sloppily laved his tongue over your skin. 

He was so fucking cute, so fucking pretty - so fucking perfect like this. 

He continued like this for a few moments before he trailed a line of sloppy kisses to the other tit and began sucking on that one, feeling the need to give both beautiful girls equal attention. He licked his tongue across the skin in a fat trail that had you tingling, that had your cunt clenching. You were glad he was enjoying himself, but it was making the space between your thighs feel rather neglected. 

“Stiles, baby,” You called out, starting to sound a bit breathy from need yourself. You raked your nails gently across his scalp again, causing him to let out another moan. “You said you were gonna eat my pussy, right? You don’t wanna disappoint me - do you, baby?” 

He popped off your tit immediately. 

“Not gonna disappoint you.” He said in a hurried tone, shaking his head. 

You pulled him in for another kiss, and when you released him, he rushed down to get comfortable between your legs, which you spread even more, dropping your foot off the bed on one side to give him more room. 

Your pussy was so gorgeous. 

So much better than he had dreamed of - wet, gleaming, smeared in your own juices and slightly gaped from his cock. A sight that absolutely thrilled him - seeing exactly where he had been, knowing that he had fucked you, he had been inside of you. 

The smell of your pretty cunt was something more unique than your sweat or perfume like he had originally thought. He leaned in eagerly and licked a fat, wide stripe from where you were fluttering and open all the way up to your mound, getting his first real taste of you - he let out a loud moan as it fully penetrated his senses, as everything that was you spread across his tongue for the first time. 

You were so fucking perfect. You tasted so fucking perfect. 

You let out a moan of your own when Stiles moaned against you again, the vibrations radiating through your sensitive core. This time, he latched into your clit, seemingly knowing that swollen bead was his ticket to success without you even having to tell him. He sucked harshly on it for a moment that made your thighs twitch and threaten to close around his head before he began digging his tongue against it, lapping at your cunt, trying to suck all the taste off it that he could. 

“Good boy,” You moaned, reaching out and cradling the back of his head (not having much hair to grab onto with the short buzzcut that he had) - keeping him tight against your pussy, not that he seemed intent to pull away any time soon. “Such a good boy. Good boy for me!” 

He wasn’t particularly skilled - it was obvious from a mile away that he didn’t have any experience, but fuck, he more than made up for it with his pure eagerness. He was eating your pussy like it was his last meal, moaning against you like he was getting more pleasure from this than you were - and hell, maybe he was. 

He didn’t back off or complain when you instinctively bucked your hips against his face. In fact, he seemed to take it in stride, downright enjoying the way your warm juices were smeared across his cheeks and chin, his eyes shut in bliss as he tongued openly across your cunt, his drool mixing with your wetness while he moaned against you. 

“Oh, fuck! Stiles!” 

He moaned harder at the sound of his own name on your lips, so beautifully pornographic, better than he had dreamed it would be - even when he had imagined it so many times over and over again. Somehow, even when you thought he might not get you there at all, his eager performance and the vibrations from his moans against your clit had you so close already. 

“Got me so close, baby,” You moaned, scratching the back of his head. “Such a good boy, so close-” 

He moaned in response and tongued more vigorously at your clit, and you worked your hips against him, practically riding his face in order to bring yourself over the edge. 

“Fuck! Stiles!” 

You let out a throaty moan as you came, beautiful pleasure surging through your body while your back arched against the bed. Inadvertently shoving your hips even closer to his face, making him even more beautifully messy while he sucked and licked you. He loved the feeling of your body twitching and seizing underneath him, he loved hearing your gorgeous moans, he loved knowing that he had made you cum. 

He lowered his face down and shoved his tongue inside you, determined to drink right from the source then, his nose bumping against your now orgasm-sensitive clit unintentionally, making you shout loudly. This further smothered him in your essence in a way that he loved, while he shoved his tongue inside of you as far as he possibly could, absolutely loving the way your pussy fluttered around him, the way your taste overwhelmed his senses, the pure heat smothering his face. 

“Baby, baby-” 

You gasped and struggled for air, knowing that he wasn’t overstimulating you on purpose - he was just eager. And that thought alone was so overwhelmingly hot to you that you almost let him continue. But your clit thrummed with an ache of protest, and you knew that you couldn’t spoil him this much, this soon. You couldn’t handle having a spoiled brat on your hands. 

“Baby, you have to come up now!” You ordered sharply, digging your nails into his shoulder as a warning, adding a tiny bite of pain to fully get his attention. 

Stiles let out a tiny whine of disappointment, but did as he was told, finally unlatching himself from your cunt. This move made a sinfully wet sound as he pushed himself up with his hands to sit between your thighs on his knees. Your eyes were immediately drawn to his once again hard, throbbing pink cock smearing precum against his stomach. 

You had a passing thought about telling him to grab another condom, but again - you didn’t need to spoil him so soon. 

You had another idea instead. 

“Oh baby,” You cooed, reaching out and loosely gripping his cock, causing him to let out a shuddering moan and buck into your hand furiously - which didn’t give him much sensation, only teased him more. “You got really excited from that, didn’t you?” 

He nodded vigorously, his mind completely mush at this point, too weak to form words. 

“Do you wanna get off against my thigh?” You purred, gently stroking your knuckles across his temple - feeling a wicked kind of joy in seeing his face smeared in your wetness, especially when paired with the dumb, glossy look in his eyes. 

He almost dared to ask for more - wanting to fuck you again, to put his cock between your tits and fuck them - but he had a feeling that you wouldn’t let him get away with it. And he wanted to be your good boy so badly. So he was willing to take whatever you had to give him. 

“Yes.” He croaked out, his voice slightly hoarse now from all the moaning. “Yes, please.” 

“Good boy.” You grinned at him. “Come on.” 

You moved your leg - already slightly stiff from how long he had been between them, stretched around his shoulders - and slotted your thigh between his. You raised it up slightly, gently propping the broadness of your flesh against his aching balls and his hard, leaking cock. 

“Wait, I want-” 

He looked around for a moment, and then grabbed up the bottle of lube where it had falling on the floor from the vigor of your fucking. He poured a good deal of it (almost emptying it) over his cock, letting it leak down over your thigh, before he capped it and threw it away again. 

You smiled. 

“You really do like it wet, don’t you?” 

He simply nodded, and began moving his hips. Instinctively, you reached out and grabbed him, taking a commanding hold on those narrow hips to guide him. He easily fell under your control, letting you guide his pace - which meant he moved in slow, languid, sloppy, wet (thanks to the lube) movements across your thigh - his cock dragging against your skin in a way that was delicious, but almost not enough at the same time. 

He began letting out whimpers, his face twisting with pleasure and the need for something more as his gut curled with a distinctive ache. As if sensing this, even unconsciously, you couldn’t help your mouth. 

“You look so pretty like this,” You told him, hot and breathy. 

Turns out - that was the something ‘more’ he so desperately needed. Hearing you call him ‘pretty’ would have been an insult on any other day, but today, it was downright delicious. Your voice curling around the word, directed at him - it felt like something he had been waiting to hear his whole life. 

“I love seeing you get off against my thigh, rubbing your pretty cock against me,” 

Stiles let out a moan and you felt him fighting to move faster, so you encouraged it, pushing and pulling his hips faster, causing more delicious friction on his cock. 

“Please, please-” He gasped. 

You knew it wouldn’t take much more. 

“You know, I’ve probably been waiting for this just as long as you have,” You whispered lowly in his ear, finally confessing your secret. “I’ve been watching you every single day, seeing how wonderful and dumb you are when you stare at me for hours, thinking I don’t notice. And I’ve just been waiting to pin you up against something and fuck your pretty little brains out-” 

Your words were cut off by him crying out, a wet splash against your thigh that had alerted you to him cumming. This was almost pathetic, just a few spurts of cum before it was over (you guessed that with how often he jerked off and from the fucking earlier, you had practically drained his balls). It made you curious if forcing him to abstain from masturbation for a few days would yield more impressive results. 

An experiment for later, you guessed. 

“Good boy.” 

You pulled him into another kiss, ultimately satisfied by the end result of your plan - leaving your panties on your bed as bait for Stiles to find as a way to gently tip him off to your attraction to him. It had worked out in the very best way. Even if you had to wait more than a week for the wheels to truly set in motion. 

… 

After a joint shower (which was filled with Stiles grinning at you, clearly soaking up the beauty of his luck in landing someone as gorgeous as you) - you changed the sheets on the bed while he made something to eat, and after the two of you ate together, you tucked him in to go to sleep. 

He was disappointed that you couldn’t stay the night, just as excited to do other non sexual things with you like wake up in your arms and hold your hand in the hallways at school - but you did have to get home before your curfew. Just as he was dosing off, you kissed him on the forehead, and you thought of something delightfully naughty for him to wake up to, even if you couldn’t be there. 

You took off the underwear that you were wearing - a pair of lacy blue ones, to match your bra - and you pinned them up on his corkboard for him to find in the morning. 

A perfect little present for your good boy.

… 

The next morning, Stiles woke up to a knock on his bedroom door. 

“Okay, rise n shine, kid, time for-” 

His father’s voice cut off abruptly, and Stiles didn’t have time to ponder why before-

“Dear god, what the hell is that?” 

Stiles shot up out of bed, practically falling on the floor, wondering what it could be - monster, werewolf, hunter, someone with a gun-

His eyes landed exactly where his dad was looking, and he was relieved not to find danger, and then terribly embarrassed to see your underwear from the day before pinned to his corkboard, spread out in plain view. Stiles immediately went into damage control mode. 

“Look, Dad, I can explain-” 

“You know what? I don’t wanna know.” His dad said firmly, making a motion with his hand that said he was brushing away the subject. “Just - get ready for school.” 

His dad moved to leave the room, and then he sighed and paused in the doorway, turning back to Stiles in a way that made his gut churn. 

“Just - did you use protection?” 

Stiles almost offered to show his father the used condom that was still sitting in the trash can - even if only as proof that the night before he had a real, living girl in his room. But he figured that would be going too far. 

“Yes.” He answered, calm and short. 

His dad nodded, and moved to leave again. He made it a bit further down the hallway this time before he turned around and appeared in the doorway again. 

“Son - you know, women aren’t objects, you can’t claim them like sexual conquests, and they deserve respect-” 

“Dad.” Stiles sharply cut off whatever speech his father was about to give, wanting his father to know that he hadn’t pinned the underwear to the corkboard himself. He wasn’t some fratboy who celebrated getting laid with a fucking trophy. 

“She - she gave them to me.” He said. “She did that.” He motioned to the underwear, and his father’s face shifted from anger to deep discomfort. 

“Oh.” He said simply. “Well - I - okay. I don’t wanna know any more.” He said firmly. “And for god’s sake, son, take them down.” 

Stiles nodded, rushing to do so. 

He was going to take them down - but he wasn’t rushing to give them back to you anytime soon.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and this has a distinct, intentional ending. There will NOT be a continuation or a 'Part 3'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, or commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for another sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider checking out my other fics about the criminally underrated character Isaac. Fics similar to this one are: Eager Little Puppy and Why Am I The One?

Or if you want more fics about subby boys, consider checking out Tongue Twister, Stop? (Baby, Don't Stop), or Lessons For A Genius.

Happy reading!! -Sunny <3

[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.

[s0urw00lf]

Protectors: wolf’s bane

A Derek hale x reader story

Summary: y/n, Derek and stiles were tasked with finding out who it was that sent Allison the message that night in the school.

“Faster?” She asked checking her rearview mirror

"Much faster" Stiles replied looking out the back window at some hunter who was hot tailing them in Derek's car.

Y/n switched gears and pressed down a little bit more on the gas, "and he said id never step foot in the drivers seat" y/n muttered to herself.

"Y/n im not sure you're quite grasping the concept of a car chase" stiles said looking back.

"If she goes any faster it'll kill us" Scott said from the back, as y/n looked through her rearview mirror

"well if she doesn't they're gonna kill us" stiles argued back. He had a point so y/n pressed down harder on the gas's pedal.

Stiles kept looking back "hey they're gone" he said, making y/n check her mirrors again and she slowed down a little bit.

Stiles bought out a radio that y/n guessed belonged to his father. 'All units, suspect is in foot heading into the ironworks' the sheriff said. Y/n sighed speeding back up, quickly arriving at the location, stopping when she saw Derek crouching behind a machine. 'Get in' stiles said opening the door and hopping in the back. Someone from above them began firing shots at them and y/n was quick to pull off before he could even close the door.

"What part of laying low don't you understand?" Scott scolded from the backseat.

"Damnit i had him" Derek said ignoring Scott's comment.

"Who the alpha?" Stiles asked. "Yes! He was right in front of me but then the friggin police showed up" Derek said aggrieved.

"Woah, hey they're just doing their jobs" stiles was quick to defend and Derek practically glared him back into his seat

"yeah thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!" Derek said now glaring at Scott.

"Can we seriously get passed that? i made a dumb ass mistake, i get it but y/n didn't say anything" Scott whined.

"Hey i was in the middle of keeping you two plus the three additions alive while trying not to think about my boyfriend who was lying dead in the school parking lot. So excuse me for not being all that rational" y/n said defensively

"alright!" Stiles shouted from the back to shut everyone up.

"How did you find him?" Stiles asked.

Derek looked between Scott and stiles and shook his head brushing off the question. "Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott asked

"yeah both of us" stiles added, earning another glare from Derek.

"Come on der, share with the class" y/n muttered lowly, knowing everyone in the car heard.

"The last time i talked to my sister she was close to figuring something out, she found two things. First a guy named Harris-"

"our chemistry teacher?" Stiles asked interrupting Derek.

"Why him?" Scott questioned

"I don't know yet" Derek said

"and what's the second?" Scott asked.

"This symbol" Derek said as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to the two, as y/n had already known this bit of information.

Scott made a face that y/n caught through the mirror, "what? You know what that is?" She asked.

"I've seen it. On a necklace" He trailed off. Derek looked at him in confusion before Scott finished off his statement "Allison's necklace"

——————————-

" this is gonna be impossible you know" Scott says to y/n and stiles as they walk through the entrance of the school.

"Why don't you just ask her if you can borrow it?" Stiles asks.

"And how is he supposed to do that?" Y/n asked.

"Easy ' hey, Allison can I borrow your necklace? To see if there's anything on it or in it? That can lead me to an alpha werewolf that i need to kill in order to get back together with you'" Stiles says. Scott smacks his chest "dude you're not helping" he says.

Stiles points to y/n "why cant you just ask to borrow it? You know girl code or whatever." Stiles asks waiving his arms in his usual manner.

Y/n looked at him as if he'd grown two heads "you want me to ask to borrow an heirloom that currently lies in the hands of someone I'm not even sure likes me, keep in mind said family hates me the previous owner especially, and if by chance i was to be seen with said heirloom id be shot in the heart with an wolfsbane laced arrow? No thanks" y/n said shaking her head before walking off.

A little later y/n came across Scott being threatened by Jackson, she groaned quietly stomping her foot before she walked up and grabbed him by his shoulder "hiya Jackson, i seem to recall where you got this little... scratch from" she said, pulling down the neck of his jacket slightly to get a better view of it.

"You don't happen to want another one do ya?" She asked in a sickly sweet tone.

Jacksons face mirrored someone who'd seen a ghost as he shook his head no. "Oh no? Well id suggest you run along then hmm?" She said pushing him forward and he hurried away.

"So he knows huh?" She asked folding her arms leaning against the lockers.

"Yeah" Scott said, looking worried. "Well let's hope I'm not assigned to him" she muttered walking away.

———————

Y/n followed stiles to where Scott was sitting at the lunch table, separating only so she could sit across from them.

“did you get it?" Stiles asked as he sat down.

"Not exactly" Scott answered, shaking his head

"Well what happened?" Y/n questioned as she sat her backpack on the ground behind her and plucked her phone out of one of the pockets.

"She told me not to talk to her at all" he said defeated.

Stiles took a huge bite of his chicken tender "so she's not giving you the neck-"

"she's not giving me the necklace" scott confirmed.

Y/n placed her head in her hand. "Scott what the hell did you do" she said, lightly banging her head on the table feeling defeated.

“I showed her photos of us from when we were together.” He stated as if it was obvious.

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock and slowly lifted her head up to look at Scott. “You did what?!” She all but shouted.

Scott and stiles looked at her confused.

She dropped her head to her hands and dragged them through her hair. “Scott she already feels bad for breaking up with you. Showing her those photos was just about the dumbest thing you could’ve done. Not only for the necklace but for your relationship.” She explained.

Scott groaned, letting his head fall back. “Okay well did you find anything else out?” Stiles asked still chewing his food.

Scott sighed “just that i know nothing about girls and that they’re completely psychotic.” Scott said defeated

“That’s high school for ya” y/n muttered.

”okay, well i came up with with a plan b just in case anything like this happened” stiles said

”what’s plan b?

“just steal the stupid thing” stiles said

”that’s what i thought he was gonna do in the first place” y/n said as she checked her phone for any messages from Derek

“can we try to at least get to Harris?” Scott asked, seemingly wanting to weigh out his options.

stiles shook his head “my dad put him under a 24-hour protective detail okay the necklace is all we got, steal it. Thank you.” He replied

scott sighed in defeat meeting y/n’s eye from across the table as she began packing up her things “look it shouldn’t be that hard, you’re a werewolf for god-sake just steal the damn thing” she said, standing up and walking out of the lunchroom.

——[time skip]——

When the last bell of the day rang, y/n met up with stiles, whom she'd asked for a ride since 1. Derek wasn’t supposed to be anywhere on school grounds at the moment, and 2. She wanted to see Noah before he went off to the parent teacher conference, which she didn’t have the best feeling about.

Y/n walked in stiles room, immediately sensing Derek’s presence, she looked at him in irritation “what the hell de-“ but the sound of Noah calling out for stiles cuts her off

“hey stiles!”

“yo da-erek” stiles faltered.

Derek's eyes widened and guestered for stiles to deal with his dad who was just outside the door.

Y/n listened to the exchange between the two stillinakis completely forgetting her intentions for coming as she stared at her careless boyfriend.

"What'd you say?"

"What? I said yo... D-Dad'."

"Uh, listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"Uh, listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud of you."

"Oh, thanks. Me too. I'm happy and proud... Of myself."

"So they're really gonna let you play, right?"

Yeah, dad. I'm first line. Believe that?"

"I'm very proud."

"Oh, me too. Again, I'm- oh." Noah goes to hug Stiles. "Huggie... Huggie, huggie..." Stiles trailed off awkwardly patting his dads back

“Alright see you there,” Noah said pulling away from his son

”take it easy” Stiles responded

Noah nodded, walking away before pausing “y/n how about coming to say hello next time” he said, and then took his leave.

y/n sighed as her memory had been re jogged

Stiles entered the room again letting out a sigh of relief as he closed the door, only to be pinned to it by Derek, y/n was quick to put herself between the two “Hey, cool it alright” she warned putting some distance between them.

She could handle the jabs all day long but as soon as it began to get handsy she wasn’t going to tolerate it. Y/n decided it was okay for her to move now and settled down on Stiles's bed. Derek quickly looks from y/n to Stiles and points to him

“if you say one word-“ he began but was quickly off by Stiles

“oh, what, you mean like hey Dad Derek hales in my bedroom bring your gun?” He asked sarcastically.

Derek doesn't say anything at his remark, realizing just how ridiculous it sounded. Stiles took that as his cue to keep going “Yeah that’s right, if I'm harboring your fugitive ass that means it's my house, my rules buddy” he said back handing Derek’s shoulder.

Derek nodded in response and fixed Stiles’ jacket, and Stiles did the same to him with a goofy grin on his face and walked away but jumped when Derek fake lunged

“oh my god!”

y/n let a laugh slip through her lips at Derek’s antics.

“Scott didn’t get the necklace?” Derek asked

”no he’s still working on it, but there’s something else we can try” Stiles answered

Catching both y/n and Derek’s attention, as she hadn’t known any of what he was talking about, Derek made a ‘what’ gesture telling him to elaborate.

“The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there,” Stiles said

”So?”

”So, Scott didn’t send it,” y/n said, slowly catching on to what Stiles was saying

”well can you find out who did?” Derek asked

“No not us, but I think I know of someone who can,” he said

—————

“you want me to do what?” Danny asked baffled

“Trace a text,” Stiles said casually ” I came here to do lab work-- that's what lab partners do.”

”And we will! ...Once you trace the text.”

“And what makes you think I know how?” Danny asked fidgeting slightly

“I had him look up your arrest report, so–“ y/n cut in

”I-I was thirteen. They dropped the charges.” Danny said defensively

“Whatever,” Stiles said pitching his voice up a few octaves

.“No, we're doing lab work.” Danny stated.

He then grabs a stool from somewhere near y/n and pulls it up beside Stiles, sitting down and looking at the computer.

Y/n watched Danny in amusement as he looked back to Derek who sat in a chair next to her, fake reading a book.

“Uh- who is he again?” He asked

“My cousin… Miguel” Stiles said, the laugh y/n almost let out would’ve had Derek death staring at her, so she decided against it

”he’s also my boyfriend, cute one isn’t he?” y/n asked teasingly

Danny nodded slightly “I guess,” he said feeling uncomfortable

Looking back at him y/n finally noticed the dried blood on his shirt, but before she Could cover it from Danny’s wandering eyes he spoke up

“is that blood on his shirt?” He asked

Stiles whipped around to see and Y/n winced, “Yeah, yes. Well, he gets this horrible nose bleeds” Stiles explained, y/n had never been prouder at how quick Stiles was to come up with a line than at that moment.

“Hey, Miguel?” Stiles said, turning to Derek. Derek lifted his head with a glare dead set on stiles. “I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts,” he said, gesturing to his dresser.

y/n watched in amusement as Derek slammed the book shut and began to take off his shirt, walk towards the dresser, and grumpily rummage through it for a shirt

”uh stiles”

“yes”

” This… no fit!” He said as he tugged at the shirt irritably

”then try something else on” Stiles stated obviously

y/n then got up and pulled a shirt out handing it to him with a small smile on her face, Derek squinted his eyes but pulled the shirt over his head

”Hey, this looks pretty good, what do you think Danny,” y/n asked turning to Danny who was not so discretely eyeing Derek

”Huh?”

”the shirt” Stiles confirms catching on to y/ns game

” It uh- it's not really his color” he answered timidly

“I agree,” y/n said inspecting the the shirt with a fake frown

Derek glared between Stiles and y/n before pulling off the shirt.

Y/n saw Stiles turn the computer to Danny

”you swing for a different team but you still play ball don’t ya Danny boy?”

”you’re horrible people”

”We know it keeps us awake at night, anyway about that text”

“Stiles! None of these fit!” Derek seethed frustrated

Stiles just looked from Derek to Danny with wide eyes

“I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text,” Danny said making Stiles lean back and throw his arms up in a quiet celebration

Y/n paced stiles while she waited for Danny to retrieve the information they needed

“There. The text was sent from a computer. This one.” Danny said making y/n walk behind them and peer over their shoulders

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asked

“No, no, no, no. That can't be right.”

Y/n frowned in confusion at the name she read on the computer

‘Melissa McCall’

——

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asked, voice ringing through the car as Stiles had him on speakerphone

” Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing.

“Hey, is there something on the back of it?” Derek asked after nearly yanking stiles arm so he could bring the phone closer to him

“I mean there's gotta be something-- an inscription, an opening, something…” y/n said from the back seat

“No, no, the thing's flat. And, no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you? You're supposed to be here. You're first line.” Scott said to Stiles, and just as his sentence finished y/n heard coach in the background

“Where the hell is Bilinski???”

“Man, you're not gonna play if you're not here to start…”

“I know. Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him... tell him I'll be there, I'll just be a little bit late, okay? All right, thanks.”

“You're not gonna make it,” Y/n said grimly. She knew how happy he was when he got first line, and how happy Noah was for him

“I know,” Stiles responded with the same emotion

“And you didn't tell him about his mom, either,” Derek said

“Not 'til we find out the truth.”

“By the way? One more thing…”

“Yeah?”

Derek grabbed the back of stiles neck and rammed his head into the steering wheel

“Oh, God! What the hell was–“

“You know that was for. Go. Go!” Derek said, rushing Stiles out of the car.

he then looked back at y/n who raised her brows, “you wouldn’t dare” she said in a challenging tone.

“Oh just you wait” he replied with a smirk. Y/n raised her brows challengingly, making her way out of the car but Derek grabbed her arm

”where are you going?” He asked

” With Stiles, god forbid but if the alpha is in there he’s gonna need some sort of help” she explained

Derek faltered, “Just, just be careful ok?” He said

y/n smiled lovingly “Always am,” she said before closing the door

———

the pair had been walking around the hospital for 10 minutes

”yeah I said I can't find her,” Stiles said

”look, ask for Jennifer, she’s my uncle's nurse” Derek replied over the phone

”well he’s not here either-“ stiles said, making y/n look into the room in confusion \

”shit, stiles we gotta go. Now!” Y/n shouted just as Derek had confirmed her suspicions of Peter being the alpha.

Y/n looked to the side only to come face to face with Peter Hale.

“Good to see you y/n,” he said before looking over to Stiles” and you must be Stiles”

Y/n grabbed Stiles’ arm and began rushing away only to be stopped by Jennifer, peters nurse

”what are you doing here, visiting hours are over,” she said menacingly

stiles began to look back and forth between Peter and Jennifer “You.. and him… you’re-you’re the one who- and oh my- and he’s— oh, my god, I'm gonna die.” He said

“You aged beautifully” y/n sarcastically muttered to Peter

Y/n pushed him aside, just as Derek came behind her and punched the nurse unconscious

” That’s not nice, she's my nurse,” Peter said fainting a sad tone

“She's a psychotic bitch helping you kill people, get out of the way”

”you think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?”

This set Derek off as he jumped at his uncle, who threw him into a wall.

Y/n wasn’t far behind, she sent a swift kick to Peter's stomach, knocking him off his feet. He was quick to regroup and grabbed y/n by her arm, flipped her over, and knocked her into the wall, much like he did that night in the school.

He then went over and picked Derek, (who struggled against his grip) up by his neck and began to drag him “My mind, my personality, were burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct.” He said before he dropped him.

“So what, you want forgiveness?” Y/n groaned from behind him kicking his feet from under him just as Derek sent a punch to his face.

Peter was back on his feet in seconds, grabbing Derek by his collar“ I want understanding.” He said before headbutting him and landing a kick to his stomach, sending him rolling back

“Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell?” He asked turning to y/n who stood ready.

He sent a kick her way but y/n dodged it, catching his foot and knocking him off balance with hers, she then got on top of hem and sent punch after punch to his face, just as she went to throw another, he caught her fist and headbutted her kicking her into the office desk so hard that it knocked her unconscious.

——

When she woke up she was face to face with a worried stiles

“Oh thank god, I though I was gonna have to hit you” he said

Y/n groaned at her ponding head, she looked around and frowned when she didn’t see Derek or Peter

Stiles must have seen it on her face because he immediately answered the question in her head

“He left with Peter” he said

Y/n frowned as tears came to her eyes, she was in a woozy state of mind and felt upset about Derek leaving and the pounding headache she had.

Y/n’s number one problem was how emotional she was when she was in pain.

Stiles panicked, having never expected to see his sister in this state of mind. He grabbed her and bought her in for a hug, telling her that everything was okay.

“Why’d he leave?” She asked sniffling, after a couple of minutes of slowly coming back to her right mind.

Stiles sighed beside her, now his arm rested on her shoulder “I don’t know” he said, wondering the same thing

[apnii-pasandidar-aurat]

My Mess

He's got me fucked, in the best ways A charming mess, flawed to perfection Doesn't exist, but I'm ready to fight Anyone who dares to say a word against him, day or night

I know it's fucked up, I'm out here dreaming Of someone who's not real, but who cares? He's mine on my terms, no messy reality No awkward dates, no risking my heart's sanity

He's always there when I need him, a constant high I'm never disappointed, just flying, never saying goodbye Maybe I'm a little crazy, but I've never felt more alive He's my mindfuck, my guilty pleasure, my forever thrill ride

(For every girl who is in love with fictional men)

[mxltifxnd0m]

𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗟𝗔 𝗩𝗦 𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦

»——•——��»——•——«

Summary: You and Stiles can’t choose a couples costume

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x fem! Reader, Scott McCall x platonic fem! Reader 

Words: 1.6K

»——•——«»——•——«

Warnings: no use of y/n, fluff, language, suggestive, spicy, implied smut, BUT NO SMUT, kinda a college au!

A/N: This was intended to be released in October, but I could not figure out how to finish it for my life. But hey, better late than never, am I right? Anyway I had no clue that Han and Leia’s ship name was Scoundress, but the more you know. Also, it is my first time writing for Stiles!

not beta read but YOLO

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

»——•——«»——•——«

"I don't know why you insist we should be Anakin and Padme! We would fit Leia and Han more for Halloween." Stiles whispered harshly, not looking up from the notebook that he was scribbling in.

You roll your eyes at him, "What are you talking about? I said we could do either, but I'd prefer if we were Anakin and Padme." You whisper to him. His head snaps up to protest, but a chair scrapes along the carpeted floor and interrupts Stiles. 

"There you guys are! I was wondering where you were." Scott says a little too loud, and the people at the other tables surrounding you and Stiles give Scott a dirty look.

"Scott, I know you don't visit the library often, but we typically use our inside voices." You whisper as he sits down next to Stiles. Scott shoots you a glare. 

"Anyways, I disagree. We should be Leia and Han, and that's final." You can see that Stiles is done with the conversation.

You squint suspiciously at your boyfriend, "You just want to see me in Leia's slave outfit from ROTJ, don't you?" You can see a red flush creep up Stiles's face and the tips of his ear as he stammers, trying to defend himself before giving up and returning to his notes. You chuckled under your breath to avoid disturbing the other students. 

Scott looks between the two of you, confused, "What are you guys even talking about?" 

"We are trying to figure out what costume we will wear to the party your frat is hosting." You explain, your voice low, "But we are split between two costumes. I want us to be Anakin and Padme, but Stiles-" He snaps up at the call of his name, focusing on the conversation, "-wants us to be Leia and Han." You glare at Stiles. 

"I thought Luke and Leia were together?" Scott says cluelessly. Both you and Stiles groan loudly at Scott's words. A girl from a nearby table glares at you and shushes you. You apologize quietly and turn your gaze to Scott. 

"We've gone over this before Scott. Luke and Leia are siblings, and Han and Leia are together. Do you just forget the movies as soon as we watch them?" Stiles asked exasperatedly. 

"No, I tend to fall asleep halfway through the marathons," Scott says guiltily as he scratches the back of his neck. Stiles closes his eyes and uses his hand to rub his face frustratedly. Stiles murmured something under his breath, and Scott's face screwed up into an offended expression.  

"I heard that." 

"Yeah, no shit, you did. I'm the one who said it for your little werewolf ears to hear." Stiles scoffed quietly at Scott. 

Scott goes to retort, but you snap your fingers twice to get their attention. "As much as I would love to see the two of you bicker, we all know how loud you guys get when you do, and I don't fancy getting kicked out of the library." You smile sardonically at them. They roll their eyes at you but yelp in pain as you lean over the table and tug their ears. 

"Could you guys be quiet? Some people are studying." The girl from earlier whispered firmly to you guys. 

You wince at her tone, "Sorry, we're leaving now." You whispered. You glared at Scott and Stiles and started to pack up your things to leave the library. Stiles scrambled to pack his things, and the two boys followed you outside the library. 

Stiles wraps an arm around your shoulder as you walk through the quad. You thread your fingers through his hand, and he squeezes your hand three times. The annoyed expression melted off your face, and a smile replaced it. You take a quick glance at your phone, checking the time. 

Your eyes widen, "Shit! I have to go! My class starts in 10 minutes." You untangle yourself, "Our discussion isn't over." You tell Stiles before separating yourself from him, pecking his cheek, and waving goodbye at the both of them as you speed walk to your class. 

»——•——«»——•——«

The sound of a keyboard clacking echoes through your silent bedroom. You're hunched over your laptop on your bed as you work on one of your papers for your English class. Lofi beats play quietly in your headphones as you read through your paper for the final time before returning to it tomorrow to edit it. A knock at your bedroom door catches your attention. 

"Yeah, what's up?" You say to your roommate as she peaks her head into your room. 

"You have a visitor." She says with a knowing smirk on her face. 

You roll your eyes at her, smiling, "Tell him he's actually banned from the apartment, then let him in." You instruct as you remove your headphones and stretch your back from your hunched position.  

She nods and closes your door before leaving. You can hear the voice of your roommate and Stiles's voice talking lowly in the apartment's entryway. You hear a scoff from Stiles and footsteps quickly entering the apartment and heading toward your room. He burst through your door, pointing at you. 

"You are so mean, you know that?" Stiles says with a slight pout on his face. He removed his backpack and toed off his shoes to leave near your door. He stands in the doorframe for a moment before you see a mischievous glint passes through his eye, and you catch it. 

"Stiles." You say his name warningly. 

He sends you an innocent smile before quickly running towards you and jumping onto your bed. You yelp loudly, closing your laptop and moving it out of the way of Stiles's landing. He lands on top of you, effectively pinning you to the bed. You can feel Stiles's chest move from his giggling fit as you try to squirm from underneath him. You give up after trying to push him off of you and thread your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. He relaxes on top of you, settling his total weight on you. After a few minutes, he eventually rolls off you and sits on your bed.

"Any reason as to why you're at my apartment?" You ask him as you sit up and shift until your back rests against your headboard. You go to grab your laptop, but it's quickly moved from out of your reach, and you turn to glare at your boyfriend. 

"Oh, don't give me that look, you know what that does to me babe." Stiles sarcastically as he moves your laptop to your desk. 

"Besides, I'm here to present my argument as to why we should be Han and Leia for Halloween and not Anakin and Padme." Stiles moves closer to you and boops your nose after he finishes his sentence. You scrunch your nose at his actions and shake your head at him.  

"Nope, not going to hear it." 

He groans loudly, "I knew I shouldn't have asked you out, you prefer the prequels over the originals." He flops down on your bed, his head landing on your lap as his legs dangle over the side of the bed. 

"Is that your way of saying that we should break up?" You raise an eyebrow at him. 

He shot up from your lap, "NO! Absolutely not. You're like the woman of my dreams. I'd be an idiot if I broke up with you. Especially with the amount of shit we went through together in high school. I actually had dreams about marrying you, so-" His hands wave wildly as he begins to ramble. You roll your eyes at him and grab his chin to kiss his mouth to shut him up. He immediately shuts up and melts into the kiss. You peck his lips before pulling away. 

"You're such a dork." You smile at Stiles. 

"You're dating this dork." 

"Yeah, maybe Lydia was right. I am out of your league." You joke, and a noise of offense comes from Stiles. You chuckle at his pouty expression and peck his lips.

"I'm kidding babe." You say as you pull away. You move around the bed to straddle him, your thighs on either of his hips, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you rest your arms on his shoulders. 

"How about we make a compromise? We go as Anakin and Padme this year, and then we can go as Han and Leia next Halloween." Stiles opens his mouth to respond, but you quickly put a finger in front of his lips. 

"I wasn't done, and to sweeten the deal, I'll wear Leia's slave outfit underneath both costumes." You lean closer to Stiles, "How does that sound." You whisper seductively in his ear and plant a kiss underneath it before pulling back to see his whiskey-colored eyes darkening slightly with desire. His hands tighten around your waist before flipping the two of you around, you landing on your back. At the same time, Stiles settles in between your open legs and hovering above you. 

"It doesn't sound fair, but if you wear the outfit often then I'll let it slide." He says lowly, lowering his face closer to yours. 

"Deal." You say breathily, your lips brushing his as you speak. 

"Deal." He says before smashing his lips against yours passionately. Your hands begin to wander and tug at each other's clothes. The room slowly grows hot and fills with low groans and whines coming from both of you. After you finished, you guys showered, went out to get the costumes, and tried them on when you returned to the apartment. 

Let's just say the slave outfit came off as soon as you put it on. 

[lucky-punk-lemonade]

Nothing to Lose

| Did you ever realize how far apart you and Stiles grew, even as you spent hours together? [Established relationship; smut MDNI 18+; oral (fem receiving)] Classic overworked loser boyfriend! (canon) Stiles Stilinski

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

You’ve always trusted Stiles to know his limits. Never badgered him if he wanted to stay up into the early morning hours researching niche supernatural events or when he’d say he survived off of microwave dinners and PB&J's and hasn’t drank water in a few days. Of course, he loved it when you sternly told him that wasn’t healthy, that he should get more sleep or get up to get a cup of water. He loved that about you. Seeing you cared when it mattered.

It started when you took his hand in yours and brought it up to your mouth. Pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles, punctuating words he wasn’t listening to. “Stiles?” You frowned, giving up on the conversation.

“Hm?” He’d blink as if his eyelids were sticking together; slow, fazed and distracted.

“You’re not listening,” you’d said, kissing his fingertips.

“M’listening. I was…” he tested bending his fingers, smiling when your lips followed. “I was…”

You could hear the thought die in his throat, the remnants leaving in the form of a small moan as you take his ring finger between your lips.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Then he was resting his cheek against your inner thigh, eyes already glazing over and eyebrows knitted dramatically. An overwhelmed and weak expression. When you had told him you liked it when he looked like that, you suspected he started looking at you with those half-lidded eyes and slightly-parted mouth more often. Whatever makes you happy.

When he spoke in a needy whisper, his voice took on a gravelly static. His ‘M’s and ‘S’s slurring and spilling over into the next word after it. He lost the sense to enunciate words or put much work into the praises and instead focused his efforts into watching your face and sliding his fingers between your legs and letting out a deep exhale, something about how wet you are leaving with it.

It’s been a while for sure. Since you’ve had time for each other. Since you got time alone, really. Consumed by school, work, and helping the pack. You’d joked that the pack couldn’t survive without two humans, he laughed, and you both went back to work. It was comfortable. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed to just be with him until he’d coincidentally sat next to you in the bed for a small break. Reading through the notes you’d both taken, switching the notebook between backpacks every research session, you leaned into him.

Now, he was looking up at you from between your legs, almost cross-eyed at the slick covering his thumb. And when his head dipped down, ready to coat his mouth in you, he knew your mouth would fall open. He knew it did something to you, the boldness of his eye contact while he did something like this, lapping at you, hands holding your thighs down, and humming into you every so often as if he wanted this as much as you did. As your head lolled back, he smiled against you and reached up to hold your hand. He gently guided your hand to the top of his head, his moan vibrating against you as your nails scratch softly at his scalp. He lifts his head and gives you a crooked grin. His lips are wet and his eyes almost sparkle as his voice comes out cracking in need. “M’listening now, sweetheart.”

Before you could answer, his head dipped back down, sucking softly as your hands tighten in his hair. Stiles was indulgent. In his research, mostly, losing track of time and awareness of his own needs. He was often dehydrated, tired, and hungry, making you out to be his guardian angel every time you came over to remind him. He said his ADHD gave him an addictive personality, or his father’s genes. At the very least, he was obsessive. It was useful in research, but you never imagined how advantageous it’d be if he set his sights on you.

He grinned against you and pulled away again, impatient to get his words out. Your eyes fluttered seeing him lick his lips and the words that come out are barely heard, “Missed you.”

The sight makes your heart flutter. His awkward smile because he’d stopped to tell you. His chin was still shiny, and he licked his lips again, enunciating for the first time since you’d kissed his neck,

“I missed you, honey. Am I makin’ it up to you?”

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is pt.2: deciding you’ve read enough fics for the moment and swiping out of the app just to re-open tumblr or open wattpad/ao3

[cruel-seduction]

The bond between a girl and her favorite fictional man? That shit’s toxic, but in the best way. It’s this messed-up, all-consuming obsession where she’ll go to war for a man who doesn’t even exist—like, literally fight someone for talking shit about him. She knows he’s a red flag with legs, but she’s ready to unpack his trauma and let him ruin her life, because he gets her in ways real guys never could. He’s everything she wants and everything she should probably stay the hell away from, but fuck it. It’s not about logic; it’s about the fantasy of someone who’s so broken, they’d burn the whole world down just to love her.

It’s painful, because she knows he’ll never be real, but that doesn’t stop her from falling harder every damn time she opens the book, watches the show, or reads another fanfic. And yeah, it hurts like hell, but it’s a beautiful kind of hurt. The kind that makes her want to scream and cry and laugh all at once.

Because no real guy could ever compare to that kind of perfectly fucked-up perfection. (And cause he will fuck you till you can't think straight)

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

The Problem With Portals

Stiles Stilinski x Supernatural Fem!Reader

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Y/N is new to beacon hills but not new to constantly having to move. She only hopes for temporary stability and kindness from others when her past begins to catch up with her as it always does. Will she explain herself to the boy she's gotten the attention of, or will she move again to avoid destruction? (Characters in college)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, piv, unprotected sex, breeding, begging, obsession, groping, angst, oral (m recieving), mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA, mentions of NonCon, swearing, self-doubt, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Coming back to rewatch MTV's Teen Wolf and falling in love with Stiles all over again so we had to do a smutty fic. It's heavily inspired by my love of fairy lore and cryptozoology as a whole... and of course... Stiles. Duh! Thinking of void Stiles as well. More to come, stay tuned. Please, enjoy!! And as always, i love all the support and appreciate all the interaction!! Cheers!

Word Count: 8k

THE PROBLEM WITH PORTALS

Walking into class late was the worst. You knew everyone's eyes would be drawn to you. Especially when you're the new girl, and not just the new girl, the creepy loner new girl with a sketchy checkered past who is also a supernatural being. So that's cool.

You could hear the other people snicker and whisper behind your back. The rumors they created in the absence of knowledge just basic human nature. They'd say you kept moving because you're violent, that you set your last school on fire, and that you were a killer. It wasn't your job to make them smarter, to explain yourself in any way. You liked it this way. If they thought you were unapproachable, it saved you time. No attention, no trouble. Trouble is what you've been trying to avoid, hence the reason you had to move. Again.

This was the second school this year. You had already grown tired of trying to make friends long ago after years and years, nor connections of any kind. There was no way for you to know if it was ever genuine anyway. Every man, student, and faculty member alike pined for you. The women hated you because their crushes and boyfriends' attention was always lured away. You were deemed a slut even though you never spent more than a few months at any school, not long enough to even get comfortable talking to someone let alone sleep with them. It was no fault of your own, just a by product of who you were.

Unfortunately for you, your secrets weren't as simple as the others had postulized. You wished you were "kicked out of your last school for inciting violence." However, that wasn't actually the case, just what's written on the transcripts. No, the male population went berserk fighting over who would get you as if you were a prize to be won. It caused a fire to erupt from the violence that ensued. The school was going to blame you anyway, but you moved once again due to the pressing dangers.

They were drawn to you, wanting to posses you. Their eyes void of emotion, just blank. You felt like you were being hunted every day of your life. No one could ever know or understand your truth. Your family wasn't like other families. You felt you stood out like a sore thumb. You did everywhere you went. Why would Beacon Hills be any different?

Your presence caused chaos amongst men. An incomprehensible obsession like a trance would take over, drawn helplessly to you. It led to trauma from your past. Men had tried to kidnap you, assault you, or worse, try to kill you if they couldn't have you. Always controlled by some unknown urge you didn't even understand. Friends, teachers, doctors, neighbors, if they were human, they couldn't resist your pull. It was a curse. You just wanted to be normal, to live a normal life. Have friends, go on dates, to know what it's like to have something in common with someone... anyone. Scarier even were the creatures that hunted those like yourself. Wanting to steal you vitality, your essence, and use you as a conduit between worlds. An ever-present fear.

Your mother had told you about the creatures of the woods and the woods themselves before her untimely passing, and the part it plays in your identity. "Y/N," she said. "We were born to the trees. We live our lives amongst them while we're here. That's why you love nature. it's within you as a nymph to be drawn home. The trees are the closest we can get for now. " She went on to explain that the reason why human men suffer this fatal attraction to them is because they are not of this realm. Their beauty alone is too powerful for this world. It's unnatural. The things a Fae is calable of here are just survival traits in their natural realm and too much for humans to bear. They are rendered helpless, weak, and unable to understand their urge. But the window to their plane was closed long ago. Your mother was long gone, no family to speak of. You only had your deity guardian. She spoke in riddles and had become increasingly weak to the point that you were now her caregiver. It was hard. She was all you had, all you knew, the only true protector. As a nymph cursed to the mortal coil, it caused so many divides in your life. You stopped trying to please anyone, stopped trying to have relationships, whether platonic or romantic. You did your best not to be perceived. Easier said than done when you are late to class and have to walk in front of everyone.

You walked down the aisle, avoiding prying eyes, holding your books close to your chest as you chose a seat near the back. It was only your first week here, and already you could feel this place was different. Still, your problems always seemed to follow. Not just the unwanted attention, but the missing time and missing memories, waking up in the woods, people disappearing, and the mushrooms and flowers that sprouted at your feet as you walked, creating cirlces in the mulch. You were always quick to make sure they never encirlced you. It always left you worse off, made you dizzy, feeling like you were torn between two worlds, neither here nor there. Still not truly understanding what it all meant.

As you took a seat in the back, an announcement came over the loud speaker. It said something about missing persons and the power of numbers and a possible curfew to be updated by the sheriff. It was starting again. Two boys sitting in front of you spoke in hushed voices in what seemed like a serious conversation. You couldn't help but overhear. "That's two this week, Scott!" The boy on the left said. "I told you it was something! But its different this time, theres no trace of them, its something new." He stole a glance looking over his shoulder, catching your gaze before returning to his conversation. You quickly shot your eyes down. He was remarkable. He had a lean build, brown hair with a buzz cut, and deep brown eyes that burned a hole through you. His friend he was talking to 'Scott' he had said was of similar height, more athletic build with longer black hair, you couldn't see his face yet. Something about him was darker, though. You could sense it. You twirled a pencil on the desk pretending not to listen. "Stiles! Something you'd like to share with the class?" The professor interrupted. The boy who caught your gaze, Stiles, the teacher, had said, shook his head and stammered unexpectedly. "Uh no, no." The professor turned back to their lecture as he again turned to his friend in a hushed voice."I did some research on portals, and we gotta figure this out, man. i have an idea. Later." he whispered. His friend looked over his shoulder. A smoldering gaze caught your eye before he turned back to Stiles and nodded in affirmation. The gazes felt targeted, but you couldn't be sure it was just your default thought as your own mechanism of protection against others. Class continued on without much excitement. You wondered to yourself, who those guys were, aside from their names, how did they expect to find the missing students? They had no idea what they were dealing with. Although, a noble effort, you hadn't even managed to figure this out yet, or you'd be able to maybe stay in one place.

You rushed out of the back doors, avoiding the crowds using the front. You wandered over to your favorite reading spot for respite amongst the trees that lined the field. You walked past the lacross team, filling the open space. Equipment strewn everywhere as they practiced. You noticed two familiar faces from class earlier. Stiles and Scott were on the field. You sat in a pile of leaves, quickly encircled by oily caps, and babies' breath starting at your feet. You didn't mind. You were distracted today. The woods were a buzz, leaving your skin tingling. You couldn't lie to yourself, stiles had a certain air about him. Something you couldn't quite define, but drew you in nonetheless. You tried to shake the thoughts out of your head as you picked up your book but found yourself watching him again.

Of course, you always wanted a relationship, some kind of connection. Craved it for years and years, but it was never real. It was lonely. As much as you would push yourself from the thought and remiss to just being ok alone, a part of you still yearned for companionship for a somewhat social life in any form. What it must be like to have someone who sees you for you, who knows who you are in your heart and not what they see or can't understand. You watched as they one by one took turns shooting goals. Something about him, you thought. He looked at me but didn't see through me. His eyes didn't immediately glaze over into that half lidded trance of a stare. But he was human, you thought, what kind of human could resist that urge. You felt a mixture of shame and interest, wanting to know more, wanting to know why. You caught Stiles looking in your direction quite often. You chuckled when the coach called him out on it, demanding, "Keep your eyes on the prize, Stilinski, or you'll be back on the bench!" He seemed unphased by the coaches words only a quick head nod before pulling his mask back down and turning to aim.

After a while of watching, you were able to find the strength to zone out in your book. You were unsure how long you had been there, but the sun had already begun to set over the lining of the trees. You gathered your book bag and started making your way off the field. There were still a few people from the game lingering on the field as you neared to pass. You saw the two you had been watching from class earlier. Scott was sitting down on a bench, removing his safety gear while Stiles stood in front of him, holding his helmet with one hand and wildly gesturing with the other. Scott looked up to see you heading in their direction, book in hand clutched to your chest. He looked at Stiles and motioned toward you. Stiles immediately shot a look back and turned back to his friend. They both stopped speaking and watched as you passed. It made you feel nervous, but they didn't follow. You were thankful yet perplexed. Unusual behavior, not typical of what you were used to. It was nice in a way, but it made you question things a little more deeply.

Upon arrival at your home, you went to check on your guardian. She was in her room in a chair facing the window. She was like this every day. You thought you would try and speak with her today. Maybe get some answers about this place. "The woods here feel different." You spoke. "They feel electric almost, everytime i step within them, my skin buzzes and mushrooms and flowers grow around me, but not like before, the windows open right away! It's like, theres a power here I can sense but can't see. What is this place? Why did we move here?" You asked, hoping to get answers and not riddles. Something with meaning, something tangible bit knowing you wouldn't. "We came for the trees, dear." She said blissfully. "The trees and water that run through the woods in Beacon Hills is special to us. Revitalizes us and invigorates our true being. Beacon Hills is a place of much power. It draws to all supernatural creatures alike." She said without ever looking away from the window. "The claws, teeth, and scales of this place do not fear us. Isn't it nice?"

Your jaw nearly dropped. She spoke in a way that actually made sense to you. No riddles, full sentences. Her posture remained the same as well as the look on her face. But something was different. Perhaps it was the trees, perhaps it was this place? A hot spot for the supernatural? Was it somewhere you could stay? Where people weren't affected by us? As if reading your mind, she spoke once more. "They are the only ones who can tolerate us. Them, and sometimes those close to them who have opened themselves up to our world and have been touched by the other side. We still deal with present dangers from typical humans, so it's best to still keep a distance." The conversation ended abruptly with your guardian motioning to her bed. You helped her in, watching her gaze never leave the window.

You wished her a good night and headed to your room. Your mind weighed heavily on what she had said. Still, it changed nothing. People were still going missing. You knew it was because of the fairy rings that sprouted at your feet in the woods. It created the windows, the overlap of worlds, and people were walking in and not coming out. You didn't know how to stop it, never did. If this place was truly a supernatural persons territory. Perhaps there were those more knowledgeable than you on this. Perhaps there were others like you, nymphs who understood and controlled their reality, lest your guardian really started communicating. Something you didn't count on.

Your rest was tinged with excitement and anxiety. You could use this information to deduce who was a supernatural and who wasn't in a way. All you had to do was see how people reacted to your presence. It was all in the eyes. Those two boys in class, they had barely paid any attention to you, and your mind wondered what they could be. What kind of creatures inhabited Beacon Hills? Were they fae friendly? What if they found out the recent disappearances were because of you? How would they react? Would they help, or would they hunt you as well?

This morning, you skipped reading and headed straight for class sitting in the back again. As students poured in the class, you looked for the faces you had become familiar with but only saw one. Stiles entered and threw his bag down on the seat next to him in front of you. You pretended not to notice as he stole glances at you over his shoulder. You were in class, but he was studying you, your every move. As uncomfortable as this made you, it was nice as it wasn't paired with the crazy eyes that usually came with those glances. He seemed nice, a welcome feeling.

The professor announced that everyone needed to pair up. This was the worst. You would obviously rather work alone. Before even looking up from your textbook, the boy in front of you 'Stiles' turns around and speaks to you. "Wanna team up? Names Stiles by the way, " he said while turning in his seat and leaning a hand out over the back. You glanced at his face, then to his hand. A look of bewilderment must have crossed your face and been obvious as he immediately shrunk down and pulled his hand back, tightening his lips and shaking his head, mumbling something under his breath.

You had never seen reactions like this from men. They were always so confident in their approaches to you, running off pure pride with a gluttonous need for you. They way he acted was endearing. You felt your face soften as you tried to respond. "Im sorry, im just not used to people being nice to me. Im Y/N. You want to come sit here or me there?" He nearly fell out of seat at the words, frantically scrambling to grab his books and backpack to sit next to you. He did so in a huff before pulling his seat close and settling. You watched in amusement as he picked up items that fell in his haste. He was cute. You felt a smile touch your lips. How long had it been since you could smile? You thought.

After he had sat, he turned to you, saying, "I find it hard to believe no one's nice to you." he said in an awkwardly flirtacious way. "Really?" You say. "Have you not heard what people say about me? How certain people look at me?" His face went blank, and he looked away as if thinking of a response. He stammered. "Well, I think some people are bored... and being new and so uh... yeah... uh yeah, they're just you know, dumb." A smile crossed your face. "Wow, truer words have never been spoken," you chuckled sheepishly.

You two spent the rest of class working on an electrophoresis lab stealing glances at each other. The casing kept leaking buffer. You joked about the electric current, possibly shocking you, knowing it wouldn't. Electricity acted differently around you. Still, he took the lead, sensing your apprehension masked as a dark joke and carefully connected the currents. It was straightforward and pretty simple after that, yet you struggled with measurements for whatever reason. Perhaps it was molecule size. No matter what you thought. His presence was reassuring. He spoke kindly to you. You found yourself wanting to scoot closer but holding back. He was adorable, the way he focused when working sticking his tongue out as his thoughts coalesced into words on a page. You watched in admiration. You haven't liked a guy like this in so long, always avoiding that potential pain, not wanting to put yourself or others in danger again. There was just something different about him.

"So, i heard you talking with your friend yesterday about the missing students. What do you think happened?" His eyes widened, and you immediately felt intrusive. "Yeah, you uh, heard that, huh? Well, it's been sort of an 'ongoing' issue. My friends and I are just trying to get to the bottom of it before it's one of us, " he said while tapping his pencil to the desk, head cooked, and a thousand yard stare. "I hope you find them." You spoke thoughtfully in a hushed tone. You felt the weight of your words as they left your lips. You felt terrible, but knew there was nothing you could do except maybe move again. But you were starting to like it here. That was always the way it went. Even if this place did feel different.

You watched him, his mannerisms. Trying to figure out what he was, how he withstood the urge so many have around you. He fawned over you. Sure, you could tell he had an attraction. You could see it in how you made him act, how he reacted to you and around you. You had gotten really good at reading people. He was a bit harder to read just because you weren't used to this behavior, so far from the norm you had adjusted to for so long. After having dealt with false attraction many times before, you could tell he was genuine. This is just how he was. Silly, awkward, caring, and kind. It was refreshing. It almost felt unreal, the conversation flowed, and there were no innuendos or comments about your body or beauty. It was like a breath of fresh air. He was boisterous and cracked jokes. His humor dry, sometimes dark. You found yourself laughing, actually laughing with him. He was sweet, funny, charismatic even, and his smile made you melt.

It was tricky, knowing your nature, you could be just as entranced with the humans as they were with you, however dangerous it could be. But you could feel your longing within you like a being of its own, inhabiting your mind, body, and spirit. Begging for the day to see the light. That day so far, has not come. With age, that desire only grew, causing friction within the confines of your own mind.

The bell rang, and you gathered your things when his voice spoke out. "Hey, do you wanna come over after school today and study? Maybe work on some of this stuff? I could uh, really use the help." You examined his expression, feeling uneasy and not fully trusting his intentions. Yet, you found yourself nodding in agreement despite your ever-present worries and fears. His face remained as it did when he asked you, eye brows raised, lips parted, awaiting your response as he shifted his books in his hands and straightened his backpack straps. "Yeah? Ok, yeah." He said in surprise. "I live just a block over from you. Meet me after school?" A block from me? How did he know, did he follow you yesterday? You shrug your shoulders, pushing your thoughts back. "Sure sure," you mumble. As if sensing your trepedation, he blurted out, "My dads the sheriff. So, you dont have to worry or anything... if you are... worried," he fidgeted, turning his head rubbing his face in frustration as if he embarrassed himself. He avoided eye contact with you, and stammered when he spoke to you, perhaps your presence did make him uncomfortable, but it was in a way you haven't seen before, not in any type of hypnotized state. It intrigued you. You found yourself excited at the thought of a friend possibly, maybe more?

It felt intimate. He was inviting you to his home. Just you two. Was this a date? You'd never been on one, never being asked sincerely, so you always declined. It's easier to avoid disappointment, right? Especially if it could have led to your potential assault or possible death. There were creatures out there that wanted to kill people like you. Something you still didn't fully understand but remained aware of that potential danger. No one has ever wanted to spend time with you other than to possess you. You had to see what it was like and took full advantage of that opportunity. You thought, why not? His dads the sheriff, what's the worst that could happen? You didn't finish that thought because you already knew but hoped for a better outcome this time.

Stiles had handed you a folded note with four numbers scrawled across the inside. His home address he lamented. "Look for the blue jeep," he said as you left for home. You wanted to drop some things off before heading over. Make yourself presentable. You never wanted nor ever needed to dress any other way than comfortable. You weren't even sure you had anything that could be considered cute or attention getting. You changed, opting for a pair of black joggers, white sneakers, and a white tank top. The only thing you had that was somwhat revealing, but only in the way it fit your shape and peeked out with a bit of cleavage. Everything you owned was to avert the male gaze. You felt bold wearing it. You felt actually comfortable, not like the loose fabric you normally hung from your slender frame. You threw on a black pullover hoodie to cover yourself. Force of habit, plus, there were still people outside your home you would rather avoid. Knowing that loose clothing was a ruse, truly no one even needed to look at you to be pulled into your gravity. If you were close to them, they felt they needed you.

You walked over, breathing shallowly, not knowing what to expect, but a feeling of anticipation laced each step you took until you reached his front door. You reach a hand up while your mind second guessed whether you should be doing this or not. Your knuckles rapped on the wood four times. You took a step back to wait. You could hear Stiles somewhere inside yelling he was coming, followed by running steps that got louder as they crashed towards the door. The door swung open inwards, Stiles stood with his arm extended, out of breath but smiling.

You timidly raise a hand in a shy wave, feeling like you interruped him in the middle of something. "H-Hey. Come in." He led you through a hall to a room in the back on the left. His room presumably. He stepped in first clutching papers and books off the surface of his discheveled looking bed. "Sorry, I was trying to clean this all up before you got here," he said while trying to collect all the items at once. "That's ok," you respond. "Wow, you really do study a lot, huh?" You said. There were school books on his bed as to be expected, but there were a few interesting choice books you observed him quickly put away out of your view on a shelf behind him. "Weird World Compendium, Cryptozoology 101, and one titled Lycanthropy." Surely he didn't get those from the library. Perhaps it was some sort of project. You tried not to think too hard about it after what your guardian had said. This place was supernaturally charged. Maybe some humans were interested in that sort of thing. Although in your experience it's always been a topic that's more hush-hush.

You sat cross-legged in the spot on his bed he had cleared off and smoothed over for you. Settling in and opening your backpack to bring out your notebook. He sat next to you on the opposite side of the bed, legs outstretched as he placed a book and notes in his lap, searching through the papers. While he gathered his notes, you took the time to take off your hoodie, lifting your arms to pull it up off over your head. It pulled your hair tie out in the process. When you pulled it off fully, your hair covered your face, falling in long locks about your face. You brushed them away, smoothing your hair back as it fell to the sides of your face. You looked for your scrunchie in your hoodie where it must've gotten tangled. When you found it and went to put it on your wrist, you looked up to see him staring at you. A perplexed look tinged with want. It's as if he was looking at a beautiful deadly creature. Scared, yet highly intrigued. You watched his eyes scan your body until he met your eyes, and immediately, he turned beet red. You could feel your face flush as well. Both of you averted your gaze. Too self concious to address the tension in the air. So you both continued on studying like nothing happened. Engaging in light conversation and school talk. The actual studying only lasted a half hour.

You two went over your notes together quickly and then started talking. A few things that caught your attention that he said were about the woods, something about the history of the woods in Beacon Hills, super vague. Although he was cryptic as well, like there was some truth he was holding back. He asked about your move and why you chose Beacon Hills, "the weirdest place you could have chosen," he'd said. You told him your family who you stayed with moved a lot for work. A lie. You had no family, just your guardian, that and you would never truly divulge the reasoning. You'd sound insane to any somwhat sane person. Stiles seemed to be a sane person, a very hyperactive one, and a total smartass, but sane nonetheless. You enjoyed his energy, really, so you didn't want him not to like you. A thought you've never thought before. Perhaps he knew more than he let on. After all, he did talk about helping his friends find the people that went missing. You knew he wouldn't even know where to start unless he had some sort of supernatural inkling. Perhaps that's why he was able to still remain himself around you.

You stood to stretch, arching your back and sliding your hands down your backside as you did, trying to crack out a few knots from sitting on the bed. There was a large empty whiteboard in his room that was pretty hard to miss. Curiosity stole your attention away from him as you wanted to see what was on the other side, if anything. As he went to put his notes away, he looked up to see you flip the board. It was covered in intertwined strings, pictures, and what looked like newspaper clippings. It looked like complete chaos. You stepped closer to observe the images only to see a picture of you, images of the fairy rings, and old articles from schools you attended in the past. "Teen incites crowd violence at UNI leading to fire," one had read. Another stated, "At risk youth terrorizes fremont school district and local community" and "Local youth suspected in missing peoples case and 10 year cold case involving family disappearance." mentally, you remark at the headlines. They were all about you, your past, and they were not only wrong and super sensationalized, but outright mean you thought.

A look of worry and lost hope immediately plagued your features. Survival instinct kicked back in, and you were immediately aware of the bad decision you had made. Your heart began to race, and your palms got clamy. You could feel a low humm of electricity burning from within. He knew it was you, how easily you fell for it this time. Shame and fear filled the pit in your stomach. Stiles saw you remarking at his 'crime board'. He immediately went to try and grab the articles off to cover the evidence he had infact been following you. Researching your past. Why? Did he want you dead like some? The thoughts raced through your mind in a blur of negativity. Is that why he was asking the questions he was? Realistically, and even more painful, was the realization that he knew it was you or had something to do with you. The reason people were missing people he knew.

"No, no no no. It's not what it looks like. Just. Just let me explain," he insisted. You had turned to him with the article stating, "Menace linked to missing people," with tears welling in the corners of your eyes. It felt like betrayal. These feelings you were so used to and built yourself up to avoid, here again. Because you dropped your guard! "What are you?" You asked. "How are you like this? Are you a satyr? A changeling?!" You all but screamed at him. Fear, clear, and present in your voice. You were scared and hurt. He stood frozen looking at you, mouth agape. He tried to speak, unable to find the words. How could he be shocked at your reaction, you thought. The evidence was here, all of it, his research on you and the "portals" he talked to his friend about. It was embarrassing, demoralizing, and hurtful. "Uh-im..im a human being," he spoke in a broken sentence, unsure how to respond to that question. Human? How? How could he be, knowing what he knows? You look up from the article in your hand, tears streaming down your cheeks. Presented with everything you had tried so hard to get away from. "Why did you invite me here?" You spoke through breathy gasps. "I thought for once someone actually liked me. So I'll just go," you said in a hushed breath. You dropped the paper and turned for the door when you felt his hand on your arm.

"Dont go." He said defeatedly. You turned to face him, to confront him. "I-I do like you. Okay? I do. I just didn't know how to say it, to tell you, i'm scared." He said, stepping closer to you and grabbing your shaking hands. "Please let me explain." You looked up at him examiningly. Taking stock of his features, observing his body language. He appeared to be truly apologetic, especially when confronted with your tears. You quickly wiped them away, no weakness to be seen. "You do?" You said, seeking his validation and reassurance. "Why?" You asked. The question perplexed him. Why wouldn't anyone like you? They all did, well, only in that possessive way.

"Why?" He repeated, chuckling nervously as you tried holding his gaze. He would look down, then back seeing you were still looking into him."Yeah, why? You see all this about my past. People are disappearing around me, right? Why would you like me at all?" You questioned him. "Look, I can tell you put on a hard front, but when we were working together, I could see that wasn't who you were. I was cautious sure, a lot of crazy stuff happens here, you have no idea. I'm just trying to help my friends, I thought what I was doing was right, and I thought you could help." he said candidly. He spoke calmly and directly, unlike his usual cadence, taking your feelings seriously. "So what did you find out?" You ask him, gesturing to the board. Tone still firm yet softening. "That you're not what people say you are. That you are not those articles. And yes, youre fucking gorgeous". He gestured at you. "but youre kind, and... good."

His words poured over your fresh wounds like a pain killer. Numbing the hurt, a lovely feeling. You looked him in the eyes, a gaze he returned purposefully. "Im sorry i hurt you, it wasn't my intention, and I will take all the time you need to explain everything, you desrve that." The words he spoke were foreign to you. An apology. Bare minimum, but something you've never received in all your past traumas. Not once did anyone take the time to validate and quell your negative feelings they caused.

Without thought and acting upon pure emotion, you leaned in and kissed him. Pressing your lips hard to his. You pull away just as quickly. Too forward, too much you think to yourself. What have you done? You look to observe his face his reaction. His eyes still closed, and his lips still perched. After a moment, realizing you pulled away, he opens his eyes and looks down at you. Letting go of your hands he steps forward to you once more, leaving no space between you. He grabs your face a palm on either cheek and pulls you in for another kiss. Returning your affections heartily.

He pushes himself against you, holding your face in his hands as your lips continue to collide, tongues roaming and exploring, teeth clashing as he breathes heavily through his nose. A soft moan escapes your mouth as you bring your arms around his neck. He then slid his hands behind your back, pulling you closer to him. You reveled in his embrace. It's so warm and inviting. There was no pressure, no obsession. It felt natural, a feeling never shared with a human before, or any being for that matter you thought.

Something came over you, or rather melted away. The fear, the worry about being around him, all but vanished in his embrace. It didn't feel forced or like possession. Just pure chemistry. Your kiss led you to the edge of his bed where your knees buckled and you fell backward. You grabbed Stiles' hand, pulling him on top of you. He was clearly nervous but happy and more than willing to participate, his breathing was fast, hands shakey as he placed one on the side of your shoulder and grabbed under your thigh with the other raising your leg up.

He spread your legs apart with his knees, scooting closer. He continued kissing you, circling your toungue with his. The electricity in your core buzzed furiously beckoning to you in unintelligible whispers. Everything spun out of control so quickly. His hands roaming your body, lightly caressing your abdomen, sliding his fingers underneath your top. His fingers left traces of vibration on your skin. You wondered if he could feel it, too. The exhiliration filled your senses, taking over rational thought as your hands roamed his body. You could feel the stillness in his pants as your soft movements brushed up against him, eliciting small gasps of breath through his teeth.

He stopped suddenly, pulling away. You looked on pleadingly, searching his face for a reason. His face was soft as he expressed concern. "Only if you want this," he said. You nodded almost as he spoke, sitting up on your elbows and meeting him with another kiss. "I do, please," you said with eybrows raised and puffy glistening lips. He relaxed and leaned into the kiss once more, pushing himself against you.

You put both hands under his sweater. He quickly shrugged it off his head, pulling it from his shoulders. You lifted up your tank top, sliding it off as he did, then unhooked your bra, dropping it to the floor next to the bed carlessly. When he looked back down, a smile curled on his lips before biting them and returning to kissing you. He took a moment to bury his face between your breasts, inhaling you deeply before using his tongue to lap at your hardened nipples, the cold air on your wet skin making you shiver under his touch.

The heat rising in your body matched the warmth in your psyche. A true gentleman he had been. Asking for consent was unheard of for you. Most just took what they wanted, turning you off of the whole idea of intimacy. But Stiles was different. You felt yourself softening under his touch. His words soothed the darkest corners of your abused mind.

His body was ridgid and warm against your torso. You could feel goosebumps rise across the flesh you touched upon his back. He quivered with every embrace. Your hand slipped down to his waistband, where his belt sat. You slip a finger just inside, trailing it against his skin left to right as you gently tug. He meets your gaze, and you smile up at him innocently. He quickly stood once more, chucking off his shoes carlessly. One landed on his desk, and the other hit the wall. You chuckled lightly. He was so eager. As he gathered his bearings to pull his pants down, you grabbed hold. "Let me," you say while grabbing his hands. He nodded in agreement, running his fingers through your hair as he curiously watched.

You undo his belt and pull the strap through each belt loop until it hits the floor, followed by the button, then the zipper until you pulled down his pants to reveal him. His boxers stood tented. He sucked in a breath as you slid the pants over his length. You could see partially through the hole in the boxers that his hardness exaggerated, almost poking out. You removed them carefully, sliding them down to the floor. His length stood at full attention and laid against his abdomen, a burning red. You run a hand over his chest, moving down and tracing the lines on his hips that led to his cock. He twitched under your touch, so did his cock. Perhaps it tickled.

You looked up at him as you claimed him, holding him firm within your grasp. His hands moved to the back of your head where he gathered your hair into one hand. You watched his reaction as you ran your tongue across the tip, collecting the precum that had coated him. His jaw dropped as he gasped at your intimate touch, eyes watching in awe as you took him into your mouth. You circled your tongue around his head before pushing further down, forcing him past your lips. Coming up and then forcing him down again, stretching your throat and causing you to gag. Tears streamed down your face as he began pushing you further onto him, wrapping your hair in his fist as his other hand held lightly under your chin, caressing your throat. He met every movement of yours with his own thrust. Drool began seeping from the corners of your mouth before dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

He pulled your head back, his hand still intertwined in your hair. His other hand grabbed your chin, using his thumb to wipe the drool from your face. He then slid his finger into your mouth, rubbing your tongue and pushing on it before moving his other finger inside, shoving them in and out of your mouth as you helplessly looked up at him. You heard a low hum form in his chest before he placed both hands on your shoulders, pushing you down gently. You follow his lead, sliding back just enough to give him space to put his knees between you.

Stiles scooted between your legs, using his hands to grip the seam of your panties and pull them downward and off of your legs. Slipping them so softly off of your body, placing them on the bed beside him. He then grabbed your hips, pulling you flush against him, his length stood at your entrance. Pushing against your slit, covering him in your slick as he leaned in for a kiss.

You prop yourself onto your elbows, meeting his lips with your own. His length throbbing against you, you found yourself slowly grinding against it. Wanting him more than you've ever wanted anyone in your life ever. The passion and intesnse pressure burning you from within. You felt a deep pressure well within you, an unstoppable urge to fulfill.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, feeling him nearly penetrate you. A soft moan escaped your lips as he reached down and guided himself to you. Slowly forcing his way in. As he pushed himself inside, your walls began to grip him. "Fuuuck," he whispered. He had to push harder as you tried to accept him. You cry out, and he looks at you with concern. "No, it's ok, feels sgood" You manage to speak in broken words as he begins to slowly thrust himself in and out of you. His eyes watched you almost with fascination as you squirmed beneath him, meeting every thrust of his with your own bucking motion. Wanting more. You felt the room get lighter. Everything took on a hazy ethereal glow with flickers of light that looked like stars as he pounded into you, increasing his speed and strength with every thrust.

Each push, sending you closer and closer over the edge. You looked him in his eyes as he shoved himself heartily into you. Pawing at your breasts, squeezing the flesh through his balmy hands. Small breathy moans would escape his trembling lips. You pulled his face close to yours, gazing into eachothers eyes as he filled you. Marveling at his expressions, how his face tightened with every thrust, how he gritted his teeth and persed his lips. He kissed your chest and neck, causing you to moan loudly from sheer lust.

He had reached for your panties that lay beside him, crumpling them up and stuffing them in your mouth. "My dad will be home soon, we have to be quiet," you nodded, letting him know you understood. You were being very loud after all. No fault of your own, just the sounds he elicited out of you from the pleasure he provided. He began pounding furiously, you cried out in muffled moans behind your soaked panties. Looking up at him as he continued with eyes of want.

Your body felt light, like you were floating. His eyes never left your face as he grunted softly with each push. Your skin tingled and buzzed with vibration, nothing you have ever felt before. He watched as your eyes beamed light from within, a sparkling like a galaxy within your pupils. A buzzing concentrating in your back and shoulders. You could feel it slowly lift from your skin as what looked like stars erupted from your shoulders glittering behind you into the bed sheets and filling room, hovering in ace.

You pull the panties from your mouth, tossing them somewhere within the room. Waves of pleasure began crashing over you as you approached your climax. Stiles remained streadfast, unabated by your sudden supernatural display. "S-Stiles, im gonna cu," you gasped. "Please, dont st-stop," you pleaded, looking deeply into his eyes. His face was a look of pure concentration, grimacing with every thrust that filled you. Your body began to shudder beneath him. His cock trembling and twitching within you as ropes of his essence spasmed within you with every forceful push. Your orgasm bringing him to his own. You wrapped your legs tighter around him as your body convulsed, your walls contracting around his pulsating length. You could feel his warmth fill you as his eyes rolled back and a low deep moan coalesced from his throat. Stiles' room, for a brief moment when your orgasm was most intense, had been glowing, all you could see was him, behind him was almost otherworldly.

The room had filled with the stars that emenated from your shoulder blades. Flickering and twinkling out one by one. They shined like small spheres of light, emitting streams of light out in every direction before fading into what looked like the flicker of a flame and dissapating completely. You had never seen this before, a shock to you, and you were sure it'd shock Stiles, too, if he wasn't already preoccupied. You're sure you'd have to explain later... if you could find the words.

Stiles lay on top of you, exhausted and breathing heavy. You lightly caressed his head he again shivered under your touch and smiled, eyes closed against your chest. You watched as his head rose and fell with each breath you took. "Y/N," he sofly spoke, a large grin painting his face. "You're so beautiful," he said euphorically. "Best sex ever," he said as he slipped off you and lay beside you. You giggled at his rhetoric. "So, I feel like there's something you want to tell me." He spoke once more. How could you even begin to explain what happened when you weren't quite sure yourself. You've never had this happen, but you've also never had consensual sex that you initiated. There was still so much to learn about yourself and what you were.

"Well, if you've got time, I guess I'll just start from the beginning. Starting with me being a Nymph," you said hesitantly. His eyes widened slightly, staring at you in disbelief, "A nymph! Like a fairy deity... Nymph?!" He stammered. "Why didn't I think of that?" he said jokingly to himself. "Uh yeah, I guess, I really dont know much about it, though. I didn't even know I could do... that" you said. "But I'll tell you everything I know. I'll help you find them if I can. I promise," you declared. He looked on, eyes half lidded. "I had sex with a god," he said, staring at you, ignoring everything else you said. You looked into his eyes as he searched yours, moving a strand of hair away from your face. "You'll have to tell me more when the blood rushes back from other areas," he said playfully. "Ok, one more thing though, they're called windows, not portals." You said tongue in cheek. "Really? What's the problem with portals?" he jested, kissing your forhead.