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tomsparkyr · 5 months ago

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𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 [𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓]

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles: come to my room please i miss you

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

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

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

Stiles: baby?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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dylobilysmomg · 1 year ago

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Motel Fever

𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺: 𝗧𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳

𝗣𝗮��𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗸𝗶 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀: 𝟯.𝟭𝗸

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

𝗢𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁: 𝗦𝗻𝗮𝗽 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗢𝗳 𝗜𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

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

𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗳!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could never hate you, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again.”

“Stiles.”

“Again.”

“𝘖𝘩 Stiles.”

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

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

“Then do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

!𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎!

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

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

𝙎𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩 𝙈𝙘𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙨

𝟏/𝟐𝟕/𝟐𝟒

#dylan obrien #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #stiles stilinski smut #dylan o’brien #dylan obrien smut #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles smut #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien masterlist #ponyboi

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luckypunklemonade · 5 days ago

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| I Wanna Crash

“Maybe it’s true / you never learn / you’re past the point of no return / and you’re so sad / knowing the truth’s like holding a gun / I’m going down like Ritchie / I’m going out like James Dean”

[Fluff!; friends to lovers; friends with subconscious benefits lmao; drunk!reader; cw underage party; not proofread lol; 3k words] Best friend!Stiles Stilinski is always the first person you call.

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

“You look half dead—“

You were drunk.

“I’m a lightweight.”

You took his hand and pressed it against your neck so he could feel your heartbeat. You held it there by his wrist, wrapped around your neck limply, looking up at him and blinking slowly, more showing him your teeth than actually smiling. “See? M’alive.”

He could’ve squeezed just a little. Not for power or control, but to show you he liked it when you put him in compromising positions with you. He liked it when you leaned on him when you were tired, or the way you’d fix his hair and wipe graphite off of his face. Or when he got to brush your hair out of your face and open doors for you. It made everyone around think you two were dating. He wasn’t even sure himself what it meant but he liked people assuming you were together.

Stiles felt you swallow against his palm, and his eyes flicked back down to you. Eyes closed, almost asleep in a state he’d never seen you in. He wanted to haul you into his arms and take you home like a good boyfriend would. Of course, a good friend would do it, too, but everyone would see him holding you close and whispering something to you, and it would only make their assumptions truer. It wasn’t selfish if it was a truth he hadn’t accepted yet. He found you in the upstairs hallway on the ground with your legs sprawled out in front of you. Your head was tipped back and your mouth was open. Stiles quickly dropped down beside you, thinking you were passed out, but his hand on your cheek had your eyes blinking open. First, you nodded. Your drunk mind somehow knew he should be there when you needed him. Always.

He probably knew his surroundings better than you did, even though this was his first five minutes in this house. You used your hands to feel around the area to help your eyes take everything in more clearly. Stiles took your hand before it felt the carpet further away from you, where a girl was trying to step past. He ran his thumb over your wrist. You put all your focus into your words. Stiles smiled at you, being the only one between you who noticed how forced it sounded.

“I don’t like drinking very much.”

You shrugged, falling limply against the wall to get a better view of him crowding you backward so you didn’t fall forward. He tried to get your eyes on his, and he succeeded by ducking his head lower so his face was right in front of yours.

“I think we should get you home.”

You nodded, taking a minute to stand with his help, laughing when he laughed. Stiles knew you had no idea what was funny, but he was okay if you wanted to keep him up all night laughing like that. Mumbling soft encouragement while you attempted to walk sober, his eyes kind of softened when you stood next to him to mirror how he carried himself. Your back straighter like you’d ever meet his height, and your eyes following his feet when he took a step. Someone would walk by and you’d lose focus, shaking your head when you resorted back to using Stiles’s shoulder for better balance while walking down the stairs. Stiles sighed and ducked down to pick you up. You could walk, he told himself. There was no need to carry you out bridal-style with your head leaned on his shoulder in front of everyone. He wanted to, though. For everyone to see that you called him, not anyone else, and that you felt safest with him. It was easier to get past all the people and to the bottom of the stairs that way. Your head leaned against him heavily as he guided your feet back on the ground. You mumbled about people, parties, and whatever you set your eyes on. Stiles was surprised; he’d never seen you drunk. You were so stiff all the time; It was nice seeing you let go, although a little unnerving.

Your shoulder collided with a stranger’s, and he translated your apology as he swept past them to follow you. It gave Stiles immeasurable pride to guide you outside past all of the noise. He actually couldn’t believe you were even there, though it was likely you took your friend out with you. She was currently making sure you were okay on the porch. Apparently, she had walked away for twenty minutes and, by the time she came to check on you, you had already called Stiles. It wasn’t a big party; there was no way you could’ve gotten lost. You got drunk, and your first order of business was calling him. Stiles assured her he’d get you home and made sure she had her own way before she walked back inside. When Stiles looked back at you, you were staring at him. From a few feet away, with that intensity in your eyes, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in years. It made him feel charged. You did that sometimes. You’d look at him or take a breath, and so easily, he started to weigh more than the moment itself. You looked at him like he was more important than the music booming from the house, or the blur in your vision, or the buzz in your stomach. It was usually at that point where his attention to how he’d be seen with you veered off. He was caught by your eyes when you tilted your head, speaking like he knew what you were thinking, “I don’t wanna go home, Stiles.”

Stiles turned his head, looking down the street. He liked it when you acted like he could read your mind, giving him hints cause you knew he couldn’t. He was faking thought, he knew what he was going to say, but you didn’t care. He just looked good.

“If you wanna walk off some of that awful cheap vodka, there’s a park up the street.”

You looked down the street as if you could see the park in the darkness if you just squinted, but it was further than you could see sober, much less like this. Stiles watched you walk up to him, not to the Jeep or to the curb or headed for the street, to him. You finally looked at him and nodded, that smile back on your face like he had successfully read your mind without your help.

“I put it in Gatorade.” You announced as you both started down the asphalt, “The vodka.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s…Well, that’s one way to stay hydrated.”

“Mhm. I’m smart like that.”

“Yeah you are.”

Stiles felt you take a hold of his arm, trying his best to keep his eyes forward. Walking past parked cars, nodding his head at a few people crawling into a Honda Civic. You rested your temple against Stiles’s shoulder as you started to hear cicadas in the distance. He could tell the sound was making you more and more drowsy, even as you continued to put one foot in front of the other. In this moment, Stiles didn’t feel like he should play up the intimacy between you both. There wasn’t much else he could ask for. So, he let you hug his arm and use him as an anchor while you fought sleep against his shoulder and the street beneath your feet. While the cars along the curb got sparser, the streetlights had come on and they offered goalpoint after goalpoint for your mind.

“Why’d you come?”

He let out a breath. Not one he’d been holding; one he’d been saving. He never dreaded explaining anything to you. Stiles was used to finding the words with you, not for you. It all seemed to work out as if you were there to make each other better. He’d been chewing on the idea of you helping him find the words to ask you out for maybe a week. No rush since, of course, he was confident it would be okay regardless. You, incidentally, weren’t so confident. You spent your days within the intimacy you allowed yourself around him. Almost sure you could find a way to fuck it up, you were grateful for whatever he let slide. He could never stress you out, but you were holding back on a lot of moments. You knew your friendship was a safe space for both of you, in which you had both grown a lot. You wanted it to stay that way, but evolve into something you could allow yourself to kiss him in.

Stiles’s attraction to you was one of the calmest things about him sometimes. Of course, he had spent evenings with a pillow over his lap on movie night when you wore that pretty tank top and years wondering how to get his heartbeat where it should be around you and not in his throat or his stomach or even lower. It just became one of those things he knew he had no choice but to work out either way. You were going to have to be a constant in his life so he started to savor his crush on you. Stiles was just glad to be having it in such close proximity. It wasn’t a secret. What with all the comments friends made and how much time you two spent with each other, the only thing that hadn’t clicked for the both of you was that it was a wholly mutual possibility if you just took the step. It was just his friends telling him you were in love with him and your friends telling you that he was head over heels for you.

Regardless, the whole confession to resolution pipeline got lost between everything going on, and you and Stiles settled comfortably where you found yourselves: in each other’s space. Exactly where you found yourself right now, Stiles walking for both of you towards the park. Once you had balanced yourself on a swing, Stiles braced himself for that heavy look up at him. But you were staring down at his shoes, and he had to coax you into raising your eyes with a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay with me.”

You finally set your eyes up and leaned your cheek against the metal of the swing’s chain. Stiles could see the curiosity working it’s way into words. He grabbed the opposite swing chain to make sure you didn’t fall backward while you thought.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

Another breath Stiles was saving. You watched his eyes scan the park, jump from bench to bench, and you didn’t think you had ever seen him so content. He laughed nervously, taking into account your state and embracing your capacity for honesty. “Uh, yeah. I have.”

He made eye contact with you and you found yourself just as assured in these uncharted waters as he seemed. Truthfully, his heart was racing and he was cycling through more deep breaths than he could take at once. You smiled, “Tell me about that.”

A confused and admiring smile at your transparency. “What?”

“Tell me what that would be like.”

He stared at you for another moment, keeping his thought process to himself, and then he walked over a step to the swing beside you. Sitting down, he slowly pulled your swing closer to his and you held on so as not to be tipped off. Stiles was known for his erratic, high-energy, talkative side, but it was midnight and the moon in your eyes made you smile and the cicadas were at the edges of the park, singing you to sleep. Cars drove by on the residential road in the background and the streetlights were just far enough away that you were highlighted by their amber hues. Stiles was tired, but he wanted more than anything to tell you whatever you wanted.

“Well.”

You broke out into a smile at a word and he had to search for cicadas in the treeline to stay focused, “If I kissed you.” He took another breath. “If I kissed you, I think I would try to make you laugh first. That always helps.”

Stiles picked at the chains of the swing, seeing your expectant focus in his periphery, “I would make you laugh, and it would take the whole time of you catching your breath to psych myself into actually doing it. By then, of course, it would be too late and you’d be asking me why I was staring.”

You were entertained by that. What you were too tired or drunk to notice is that what he said had actually happened before. More than once.

“Maybe I’ll keep thinking about it, decide that it would happen when it needed to. Maybe I wish, for a little, that I could just rip that band-aid off, y’know? One night, you’re at my house. Helping me put all the pictures and string on my board.” He continues with more specificity as you watch with an unwavering smile. “And maybe you point something out and say something I hadn’t thought of yet. You and I get to work out the issue together and you say something so incredibly smart that I make up my mind. I would try to get over how smart you are and how that’s your one of many great qualities. Then, we’d probably get distracted by the pictures and the string and the supernatural.”

Stiles hums out a conclusion. He feels your hand on top of his, the hand that is holding your swing closer to his. “But what about when you do it? What would that be like?”

“Best case? Fancy dinner, long conversations, I make you laugh. Then, y’know, boom.”

You laugh, and he feels himself becoming heavier than the moment. “Boom?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes haven’t quite met his again since he started on his retellings. He doesn’t want to think about which of you are at fault for that, though. “But- I mean, ideally…

Ideally, it would just be with you. Wouldn’t need expensive dinners and…maybe I wouldn’t have to take the flannel and converse off. It would be good if that was…If that was it, too.

He had thought about it a lot. Maybe you’d be catching a ride home with him, his Jeep would break down, you’d sit and keep him company while he tried working on it. You’d hand him the roll of duct tape again, turn the key in vain a few times when he asked, and he’d cuss with his fists balled. You’d put a hand on his shoulder, pull him away from the hot engine, wipe the oil off of his face, and kiss him.

He can sense the focus radiating from beside him and decides to savor that, too. “Well, it would probably still be after you laugh or after you say something smart. I would get all worked up, screaming at myself, that you would have to read my mind and do it for me. I think, after that, I would smile like the helpless idiot I am.”

Stiles turned his head to you, revelling in how you looked at him. Like he had opened doors that weren’t opened before or released pressure from between you two, but he was just thinking out loud. Your voice cut through the amber hue for a split second.

“Can you check if I’m alive?”

Stiles laughed, commenting something about being that good with his words, but he realized how you meant it. You wanted a gesture of connection. You wanted to feel him. You just couldn’t come up with any better ways to say it. Stiles slowly put his fingers to the side of your neck and felt your pulse. Once he could make out the steady rhythm, he covered it with his whole palm.

“Still kickin’.”

Your head lolled forward, tucking your smile beneath a curtain of hair. He slowly lifted his fingers from your neck and held your head up. Looking up through squinted eyes and knitted brows, you let him cradle your chin. He had successfully read your mind without your help again.

“Let’s get you home.”

He waited for you to nod and bent down to slide his arm under yours.

On the car ride to your house, you reached over and held his hand. You pulled it over the armrest and tucked it between your cheek and your shoulder. It was stupid to wish you were this affectionate with him all the time, but he let you keep it there. He thought about taking his hand away when you started pulling it further across the middle console, and he did, but he couldn’t bear the thought of taking away your comfort. So he put his hand on your back and focused on the road. He traced shapes on your back and listened to you hum. Stiles pushed away the vague hope his Jeep would break down and you’d both be stuck together on a county road. When you slumped your head forward, he coaxed your forehead from the dash, “That’s not safe.”

You laughed and curled up in your seat, asking him if he’d stay the night. When he said probably not, you frowned; and you kept that frown as he helped you inside your empty house and up to your room. Your parents were always working away from home. They didn’t ever think you were the type of kid that goes off to parties and gets drunk. Stiles opened a few cabinets in search of something to give you to settle your stomach while you tried to wash your makeup off in the bathroom. He came back with a cup of water and toast to find you failing. He stopped laughing when you asked for help in an oblivious voice with a wide smile. He still wasn’t sure if you knew what was funny, but he set everything down to help. Stiles picked up a towel and dried your face and you leaned against the counter, yielding completely.

“Do you want me to grab you some pyjamas?”

You nodded, soothed into a sleepy trance by the way he spoke to you this late, this vulnerable. This side of Stiles felt like forever. Like you’d been coming home with him for years now. You were so comfortable in this forever. When he came back with the clothes, he let you change, even if it took you a while, and, when he opened the door, you thanked him. You wrapped your arms around to his back and he let you lean yourself into him, swaying slightly as you repeated for the one hundredth time tonight, “I’m tired.”

“I have a cure for that.”

You opened your eyes at the word “cure,” as if it were going to be something interesting. It didn’t matter, though, all you could see were the threads of his shirt. All you felt was the weight of his arms around you and the slow sway back and forth. The bathroom light was off, the hallway light was off, and the desk lamp in your bedroom drew your eyes away from counting threads.

“Sleep.”

You agreed somehow, with sounds instead of words, but, just like he understood you needed another minute in his arms, he understood you. In your head, though, you made him chuckle. “You’re one to talk,” you said, and his smile would reverberate through his chest and you’d get to feel him laugh. You weren’t sure you’d be able to watch him close your bedroom door and leave you tonight, not with the way you were starting to feel. You felt caught up in him; the image of him looking up at the stars in the park burned into your brain. You felt like, if he were to leave, all of you that was connected to him would snap like old rubber bands. He walked you to your bed, pulling back all the bedding, and watching you climb in without protest.

As he pulled the covers over you, he readied himself to exit. He prepared himself to lock the house up for you, get in his Jeep, and drive home in silence. It was responsible; he’d text you tomorrow, and it would all be okay. You watched him get the blankets over you while silently thinking. When Stiles had you sufficiently tucked in, he felt you take a hold of his hand. Sitting up and pushing all of the bedding back down, you moved the edge of the bed and pulled him back to meet you. Stiles watched you falter, swinging your legs over the side to face him. He tried to decipher what you were trying to do, to read your mind, but it was really surface-level now. Slowly, you wrapped both arms around his waist and leaned your forehead into his abdomen. He started to reason, mouth opening and hands gingerly on your shoulders, ready to softly pull you away and put you back in bed, but your hand came up and pulled his arm down from your shoulder and onto your back.

“Stay.”

Stiles suppressed his smile and let his heart beat faster, “Okay.”

He held you while he kicked his shoes off and took his flannel off one arm at a time. You stayed leaned against him until he started crawling into bed. He first pulled the covers over you and settled beside you, making sure to leave room, but you pushed the blanket down and laid on top of him. Stiles ran a hand over your head, finally able to pull the blankets up over the both of you. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating how he got so lucky at every turn tonight—how he ended up here without really trying, what would happen if he started trying—when he spoke, “Can you check if I’m alive?”

Lifting your head, with all the precision you could muster, Stiles felt you press your lips against his pulse point and lay your head back down on his chest.

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stilessp · 29 days ago

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THE ARMS. THE HAIR. HIM. UGH GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

#dylan o'brian x reader #dylan obrien #void stiles #stiles stilinski #the maze runner

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xoxologgedoutsry · 5 months ago

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| MOODBOARD |

Dating Stiles Stilinski…. Would include….

Supporting him in lacrosse even if he just sits on the bench…

Movie nights - Netflix and chill?

Acting like an old married couple

Embarrassing weird nicknames cause you guys think it’s funny

He gets very jealous if you talk to boys he doesn’t like, mainly just Theo

You being jealous of his past crush on Lydia, that leading to your first fight then your first I love you

Not big on PDA but will hold your hand and give you a peck on the lips, but in public he’s not down to full on make-out in the school hallways, like eww

Okay hear me out, nerds fuck the hardest trust it’s all that built up academic stress

Have you no walking for dayssssssss

Innocent showers + dirty ones

Sleeping skin to skin after sex

Best after-care ever trust

The pack being annoyed with you guys constantly being M.I.A

Just all around cute ness.

———————————— 💋 ———————————

Xoxo Layla, 💋 <3.

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elizabethsblogg · 1 month ago

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✨Stiles Stilinski aesthetic✨

“Im fine, yeah, aside from the not sleeping the jumpyiness and the constant overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible is gonna happen.” -Stiles Stilinski

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #dylan obrien #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinksi imagine #teen wolf aesthetic

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dietcokeangel2004 · 1 month ago

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Stiles x Reader x Nogitsune aesthetic

Where is my mind?

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sebystann · 1 month ago

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Okay, hear me out, guys! I have been in the mood to read some fanfics recently, but all I keep running into is smut! I like a little smut sometimes, but guys, I'm in the mood for some angst, something to make me fucking feel something! Where are the angsty writers??? I want to cry not get all hot and bothered.

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ruewrote · 1 year ago

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𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡.

PAIRING: stiles stilinski x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: teenage dream by katy perry WORD COUNT: 1.2k

navigation | ask | stiles stilinski masterlist

it wasn't out of the blue for you and stiles to have a sleepover on fridays, actually it was a sort of unspoken rule between the two of you.

it first started when you said that you had never watched star wars before, which led to the both of you sitting on your couch with a big bowl of popcorn in between.

him explaining the little parts you'd get confused about or him just ranting about his favourite scenes. after that it was a back and forth of showing each other your favourite unseen movies.

when finishing said movie the following days you'd receive multiple memes from him about the specific films, it had become a recurring pattern that you'd come to love. it almost felt weird if he didn't.

tonight it was your turn to introduce him to the to all the boys i loved before trilogy since you'd been obsessed with the movies since they first came out.

he was on the fence about watching them since he wasn't a huge fan of romcoms, you somehow convinced him by saying "it's practice for watching them with your future girlfriend!" internally wincing at that.

every friday you felt more anxious before stiles showed, trying to fluff up your pillows and straighten out your blankets. wanting to make everything perfect.

you had a huge crush on stiles, how could you not after spending so much time together, learning all of his little quirks, his likes and his dislikes, the only thing you weren't sure about was the way he felt about you.

it was the one thing you wanted to know the most about him. did he think about you the same ways you thought about him? did he like the way cuddled when you'd watch these movies and shows with him?

you couldn't tell him though, what if he didn't feel the same way you did and it completely ruins the good friendship you have right now?

what would it take for you to finally tell him?

ding dong!

the doorbell ringing a couple times had you jogging down the stairs, opening the door with a warm smile to see hyper stiles.

"i'm so ready to get my movie night on! i had a math test today and let me tell you it sucked," he whines as he dramatically wraps his arms around your waist as he fake cries into your shoulder.

"well if it helps i have enough microwaveable popcorn to keep us going through the apocalypse soo you coming upstairs or what?"

with that said he zips past you up your stairs, falling up them in the process, making you giggle at his eagerness as you follow close behind him.

watching stiles practically swan dive onto your bed and aggressively sniff your pillow has you side eyeing him, "why is your bed so much comfier and smells so much nicer than mine? it's so not fair."

"it's a little thing called fabric softener and if you continuously jump into your bed the way you do mine, then i guess you've got your answer you dufus," you laugh at him burrowing himself deep under your duvet.

"plus i've slept in your bed it's plenty comfy, the key is lots of pillows and fluffy blankets." he hums as you settle yourself beside him before pressing play on the movie.

it was like ten minutes into the film when you could feel him slightly shuffle closer to you, keeping your eyes on the screen pretending it didn't happen. just patiently waiting until he felt comfortable enough to say something.

"can...can we cuddle?" you wordlessly lifted your arm, letting him slip himself under, his head on your chest, the rest of his body lightly pressed to your side.

it was like second nature to you two, whether either one of you had a bad week you'd take turns holding each other. you helped install healthy mannerisms that proved that it was okay for a man to be held because they deserve it too and that it was okay for guys to cry no matter who they're with.

so yes , when he had a rough day he'd often walk up to you and bury his face into your neck, his arms firmly wrapped around you as you cupped the back of his head and rubbed soft circles on his back just letting him know that you were there for him.

with everything he had gone through he deserved all the comfort he could get and if the source was you then so be it.

you would be lying if you said that your heart didn't speed up at the closeness and how his touch on your skin left goosebumps.

trying to be as casual as possible, you raise the hand that was currently wrapped around his shoulders to gently stroke his hair, feeling him physically melt into you calmed your nerves.

feeling your eyelids slowly droop, your hand movements become slower so your palm now laid on the back of his neck, fighting sleep felt so difficult when he was beside you. his presence was so peaceful, comforting even without him saying anything.

the early start of your day hitting even harder now. He won't mind if you rested your eyes for a little bit, right?

stiles noticed the similarities between the two characters to the both of you, but there's no way that you deliberately put this on as a sign? was he reading too deep into it?

when he went to question you about it, lifting his head he was met with you sleeping peacefully. his gaze softened at the sight, gently tucking the piece of hair that fell in front of your face.

"you are so goddamn beautiful and don't even know it, even when you sleep? like can you save some beauty for the rest of us?" he chuckles at his own joke.

"i don't know how long i can keep pretending that i'm not totally in love with you...there really isn't anything that i wouldn't do for you." he whispers and he studies your features.

"it's honestly crazy how i feel your absence in everything that i do when i'm alone, in every place i go without you." he sighs, going to go back to watching the tv.

"you really mean all of that?" you whisper, making him jump back.

"uh- i-i do, but i thought you were asleep?"

"no i was just resting my eyes, but i'm sorta glad that you thought i was for you to finally confess your feelings for me." you smirk at him.

his mouth opens and closes, utterly bewildered at what you just said, "what do you mean finally?"

"You realise that i like you too, right? that i have for the longest time?" stiles eyes now wide, looking even more lost than before.

"you like me? like like me like me?"

sitting up, grasping the back of his neck, "what are you..." pulling him closer, your lips brushing against his. it takes him a second to register the kiss before melting into it. leaning closer to deepen the kiss. his hands brushing over your hips as he laid you down, now hovering over you. your hand running through his hair, tugging at the roots.

you're both now smiling as you share a few more pecks before pulling away. "so you do like me!" he grins, "oh my god. dude yes!"

"ya know if you're gonna be my girlfriend, you're gonna have to calling me dude."

"would you prefer shnookums?"

"that's it!" he pulled away just enough to tickle you.

from that night forth you and stiles had become inseparable, practically connected at the hip. but you wouldn't want it any other way.

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