#pretty lacrosse boy

[victory-cookies]

fuck I feel really bad my good friend and the girl I thought was gonna get valedictorian this year at my old high school just lost it to a fucking lacrosse boy. A smart lacrosse boy but still

[hoshigray]

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward person but somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why not both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk, felt like doing a threesome for some reason lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting - sex in public places; gymnasium locker room + dining hall + college dorms - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face + throat-fucking - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping, grinding and licking/sucking) - face-sitting - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - anal fingering (f! receiving) - kissing/making out - protected sex (psa: warp it up or get tf up) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - sato + sugu being whipped over you, hehe~ - slight humor - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (pretty long for a req, lol)

“Oh, Y/n, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good weekend? Let’s walk each other to class; I was waiting for you.”

“Y/nnnn! This cold day is so much warmer now that you’re here. Let’s grab something to eat at the dining hall, okay?”

You thought college life couldn’t get any more difficult than it already is. Oh, how you were so wrong… 

Being on your own on campus was hard enough; states away from your family and having to rely on and take care of yourself while also striving for a better education. On top of this, making friends (outside of your roommates Shoko and Utahime) is such a social and excruciating chore as it’s challenging to put yourself out for people to notice you. Making small talk with your peers or talking/discussing group material in classes has your heart racing enough – not to mention trying to commit to clubs – making you feel a bit of a failure as a human being.

With that, you almost dwell on not trying at all. You’re utterly content with your inner circle with your roommates, waking up and heading to classes and back, eating college food, and sleeping after reading for a lecture. This routine of sticking to yourself was a notion you’ve grown to accept and find comfort in — no need to change it if it’s been doing you well this far.

That is until you meet them — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the best friends of your roommate Shoko. 

Gojo is the star player of the school’s basketball team, a famous face among the class years, and the “disgustingly tactless, cutesy prince” of your year, as described by Utahime. By morning, he’s a dedicated student in his business administration major and history minor classes; by afternoon, he is his playful, social, and charismatic snow-haired soul, grabbing the attention of others and bringing life to those around him with his bright cadence. In addition, he’s a talented figure, capturing the hearts of many with his model work in fashion shows and playing fan-favorite roles in plays.

In contrast, Geto was a much more mellow star that pulled the hearts of students and professors alike. The raven-haired bioengineering major was a boy whose presence was easy not to notice yet quick to pull you in when making himself known. His tall, docile figure emitted an aura that accompanied the soothing tune of his voice, the perfect combination that made him trustworthy and obliging to the students around him and his lacrosse teammates. With the charming features of a heartthrob and the alluring speech of a leader, he’s someone many would turn to in search of a person to follow and praise.

Satoru and Suguru, two complete opposites – two best friends – who are, without a doubt, the twin stars of this school. However, there was one thing the two shared in common, something that made your heart skip and your mind race every time knowing this fact: the two were unmistakably and sickeningly in love with you!

How? You do not know. It all started when Shoko brought them over one night for dinner, and you saw them for a quick moment in the kitchen, quickly greeting them before rushing back into your room. Next thing you knew, you had begun to see and run into them every so often, which soon turned to at least once per day. And now, like a white bubbly puppy and a black, quietly affectionate cat, you could not shake them off you when and wherever you went.

Oh, it was something you were not used to, being sneaked up from behind by Gojo, who’d pull you in for a hug or lift you with every greeting in public (as if you weighed like nothing)! Especially in classes where Geto would surprise you with his calm voice and a warm hand on your shoulder to check if you were okay before claiming the chair next to you. And you couldn’t push them away — how could you when two of the most renowned faces on school grounds want to be around your presence!? Good Lord, it was all overwhelming, Shoko and Utahime having to step in to beat the boys into shape for making you uncomfortable.

And then there are those times when the two would butt heads with each other because of you! There have been a handful of times where if one had you to themselves, the other would bore glares to the former’s skull. Gojo would suck his teeth with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, white brows furrowed and ticked off blue eyes concealed by his dark circle shades. “Yo, Buddha with bangs, can you let go? Y/n promised to hang with me after their classes ended, and I’d be damned if you’d be third-wheeling.”

“That’s not happening, Satoru,” Geto’s hand grasps yours with more grip, royal purple eyes narrowed at his white-haired friend. “Y/n and I have a presentation to work on for tomorrow. Go lollygag somewhere else.”

Two positive bundles of life will immediately turn hostile when it comes to you, suffocating your very being as you’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s bad enough being with either of them has people notice and talk about you; it’s another thing when you’re being fought over like some small bunny between two snarling wolves. Oh God, why me!!??

But it wasn’t all bad. If anything, being fawned over by the two was a strange thing that has happened to you thus far, and not in a terrible way. Gojo has made you a lot more open and social than before, dragging you to parties he’s been invited to and to his crowded games (where he’s always sure to find you and blow a kiss). And spending time with Geto has sparked instances where you’re courageous enough to speak for yourself with a bit of a push from him, throwing in your inputs for class discussions or having him aid you in knowing your material when you two study together.

The two most popular guys in school who flatter and are obsequious over you. That in itself is enough to make your cheeks and ears dial in warmth, shielding your face in your pillows just thinking about them. You like them both, bound to be drawn in by the handsome boys and their pursuit of you.

However, their infatuation was something you’d find out goes beyond words and handholds. An obsession for you embroidered in their very minds…and bodies.

“…Mhahhh, Go—Mmmph! Gojooo…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Aww, c’mon, Y/n, you know I don’t like it when you call me by last name. It’s just the two of us here…Fuck, keep licking it like that…”

Sneaking into the basketball team’s locker room is one thing; sneaking in with the star player in the team with you between his legs on the bench and sucking his dick? Oh, that’s a can of worms you never thought you’d open in your entire life. 

Gojo brings his head back, banging on the locker behind him as the contact of your tongue on his pink tip sends shivers up to his shoulders. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me cum again…” You peer up with lidded eyes as you suck his tip into your mouth, him humming at the warm sensation of your mouth swallowing his length whole. Your face is hot of embarrassment, being looked down on by him as you do such an indecent thing on him in a place of changing for men. 

This was his idea – bringing you to the gymnasium to watch him practice with his teammates for an upcoming game. Then, he pulls you aside once the guys want another fifteen-minute water break, bargaining into the men’s locker room and pulling you in for a hot kiss. Sucking on and nibbling on your lips and tongue has you mewl sweetly for him, distracted as he pulls his shorts and briefs down to expose the erection growing inside him. “Sorry, you just looked too cute watching me from the side,” he’d say with a hazy glint in his eyes shielded by his shades.

So here you are, sucking him off to the hilt, where your lips meet strands of his white pubes, making your boyfriend cum for the second time. Gojo brings a hand to your head for purchase, moaning as your hand massages his balls. “—Ahh, fuck…God, you’ve gotten so good at that, cutie. Can’t get enough of you...”

His words burn your ears, his aroused tone making your face even more hot to bear. Gosh, this was such a dangerous game; your nerves constantly on edge in hopes nobody would walk in.

However, your worries might have been what jinxed your fate because you two heard the door to the locker room open. You instantly move your mouth away from Gojo’s cock and stand to panic. But before you could, Gojo quickly grabbed you by the wrist and took you to one of the bathroom stalls. You sat on the toilet, bewildered at being dragged all over this fitness center. Then, Gojo brings his dick to your face again, and you give him the most shockingly confused expression as if he can’t hear the commotion of two people speaking where they used to be.

“Relax, no one’s coming here,” Liar, we almost got caught! He pushes the tip to your mouth, and you murmur on his length, filling your mouth and throat. “Let’s make this one quick, okay?”

You were too busy registering him place his hands on your head before he could slam himself to your mouth; the sudden thrust of his hips propelling his cock deep into the tight crevices of your throat makes you grip onto his shorts for dear life. The slap of his ruts fills your eardrums; you can’t tell how far or close the two guys who entered the locker room are. He’s making you focus on nothing but him — a selfish objection from a selfish man as he’s using you to relieve himself in the men’s locker room. God, this was such a bad situation, and yet your lower half couldn’t stop the throbs that have you shifting your thighs together. How embarrassing! 

“Hhnnn, fucking shit, your throat feels so good,”  he praises, his slender fingers massaging your scalp. Your tongue brushes the underside of his length in a way that has his pace go faster, and he has to keep his moans to a lower volume. “Shiiit, baby, I’m gonna cum…Take it all in…!”

You have no choice but to, forced to gulp down all of his load that he spills into your tight, warm throat. He still rocks his pelvis into you until every pump of his jizz is inside you. When your ears pick up the sound of the locker room door opening and closing with the dismissal of the two strangers, that’s when Gojo takes his long shaft out of your mouth, spit connecting from your tongue to his cockhead is wiped with haste. 

But then, Gojo pokes your cheek with his tip, a sign that he wants to go again. You throw quiet pleas, “N–No, Gojo! You have to get back to practice—“

“Shhh, those guys can survive a few games without me. And besides,” he gently slaps your cheek with his cock. How vulgar! “I’ll fuck your mouth til the end of the day if you don’t stop using my last name when it’s just the two of us here.” The playful grin on his lips doesn’t make that threat any better. “One more time, please?”

With hesitant eyes, you place kisses on his shaft while stroking him. “Only one more…okay, Satoru?”

He beams with the dimples of his cheeks. “Yes, pretty girl~.”

And it doesn’t stop there — because Geto is no better. 

“Aww, you two are so cute together~”

You squirm on the booth seat you’re sharing with your other boyfriend, you two sitting across from his friends — a senior couple he shares a lab with that invited him for dinner. Unsurprisingly, you were his plus one, knowing you’re not one for being around people you’re not familiar with. And yet here you are, caged by the wall and Geto’s frame to keep you in this conversation on the side of the busy dining hall.

Geto chuckles before brushing your cheek, "Aren’t we? But they’re the cutest thing to me.” He says as he places a swift kiss on your cheek; it’s an action that has your face grow in warmth — and the couple “awwing” at his affection.

The guy of the couple speaks to the dark, long-haired other. “I never knew you were one for relationships, Geto; you seem so busy with Bio and your clubs that you don’t seem to have time to lay low and be with someone.”

“Mmm, I thought so, too. That is until I met Y/n through a friend of mine,” you jerk at the silent touch of his pinkie grazing your thigh, noting it had sneaked under your skirt to graze its skin. Your eyes peek in his direction, finding that he remains eye contact with the guy he’s talking with. “And, you know, I got to know them here and there, shared some classes with them on the side. Now, I just can’t imagine them being out of my line of sight.”

The guy across laughs. “Sounds kinda obsessive!”

Geto shrugs with a chortle. “I guess it’s like that, I don’t know. I’m just really crazy about them; they’re my sweetheart after all.”

“That’s so sweet!” The girl senior across exclaims, turning to you to ask, “So, how long have you and Geto been a thing, Y/n?”

The question has you stumped for a bit as you weren’t ready to be thrown inquiries. And before you answer, you feel Geto’s hand rub on your thigh. “U-Umm, me—ahem—Geto and I have been a couple for quite a while now? My roommate was the one who introduced me to him—Mmmm!” You briskly flatten your lips at your squeak because the fingers inside your skirt pinch your skin. On command, you spread your legs for Geto to insert his hand inside your panties.

The girl asks more questions. “Oh? So, your roommate brought you two together. Did you know of them before?” 

“Well, not really…She and Geto—Ohh!” You bring your hand to your lips at the graze of Geto’s forefinger on your clit. You turn to him and are immediately locked into his violet gaze. He lifts a brow with an undisturbed smile, and you gulp. “I–I mean, Suguru and my roommate have been best friends since high school, so I kinda got…Nnmm,” you chew your lips when he bullies a digit between your folds to play and tease. “She was the one who introduced me to him…”

“Is that so? Hehe, it’s amazing how the world works, huh?” You listen, but your mind is too focused on Geto’s digits swiping and nestling across your wetness to have your body more excited about his touch. And it gets worse as he inserts his forefinger inside your vagina, causing you to jolt and suppress your mewl by leaning into his shoulder, gripping onto the sleeve of his turtleneck. “Here are two lovebirds all lovey-dovey with each other thanks to one friend bringing them together. It’s crazy imagining you two would’ve never met hadn’t that happened.”

Geto hums at that comment, “I agree; I have to thank Shoko for bringing this little angel to my arms.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, completely nonchalant compared to the quickened pace of the digit scraping your insides. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

With trenched brows and a shaky breath, you try to reply to the awaiting couple. “Mhmm, yes, I’m so grateful that Suguru is in my life…He’s been such a help to me,” his forefinger goes slow, having you feel every dent and knuckle. “Hahhh, he’s so good to me, and I love him just as mu—Mmmph!!”

“Hmm? Are you okay, Y/n?” How can you tell the guy across from you that your boyfriend’s thumb just surprised your clit with a swipe?  You’d rather melt on this floor had you not buried your face into Geto’s shoulder. 

Speaking of who, he takes the initiative to answer for you. “I think they’re a little parched, must’ve been this lemonade I got for them. I’ll go get them some water—“

“Oh, no, no! I’ll go get the water; I was gonna get more of those garlic knots anyways.” The girl stops Geto from moving, sliding from the booth seat with her boyfriend’s hand to follow suit. “C’mon, let’s leave these lovebirds for a bit. We’ll be right back!”

And so they leave, thanking your lucky stars. Once their figures are nowhere to be seen within the sea of students, you probe the man with a trembling whimper. “Mmmph, Suguru, please, take it out before—Ahhh…! They come back…”

Luckily, he listens to your request with no argument, withdrawing his digit from your wet slick and underwear. And to your horror, he brings the finger to lick and suck and says with a dark look, “Just checking to see what I’ll be having later.”

It doesn’t matter wherever or whenever; Gojo and Geto will be sure that their love for you is expressed to you every chance they get. 

It doesn’t matter the day or hour, whether you are free from assignments, spending time with your roommates, or on your way out to study; those two will find a way to get to be with you. And, to be honest, it can be a bit overstimulating! 

When there are dates to the movies with Gojo, there’s private alone time with Geto on his bed as he eats you out. And when there are days when Geto holds hands with you and walks you to your classes, there are nights when Gojo will fuck you til his cock is warmed inside you in his slumber. It can go either way, the two competing for your affection and time when the other is out of sight. 

Again, sometimes it’s overwhelming for you, never knowing which of the two will have you all to themselves, nor knowing when you can have time to yourself! And it’s not like you haven’t tried putting your foot down to express your wish to be alone. But, albeit it can be utterly exhausting, you know those two love and cherish you so much that it drives them crazy. Hell, it’s driving you crazy just how much they can’t keep their hands off you! 

Especially now when they drag you to their shared dorm room, experiencing one of those days when the two wish to have you in the same presence. 

“Hahhh, damn, Y/n…you’re sucking me off so good,” Geto purrs with a whistle while lovingly patting your head. “So good for me, huh, sweetie?” 

The two stripped you off your clothes to be nude with them on the bed. Your naked frame straddles above Gojo, lying on his back with his face buried into your bare cunt for his mouth and tongue to please you orally. Meanwhile, you suck on Geto’s girth as he leans on the pillows and headboard. It’s his turn after sucking off Gojo (they settled this over rock-paper-scissors) and fingering you to warm you up first.

You whine of his member, Gojo’s tongue doing wonders on your delicate body. He licks on your clit just as you lap yours around Geto’s glans, and then he’ll suck your pearl right as you take in the tip with pursed cheeks. It’s such a mutual shared experience, with how Gojo’s hands wrap to your thighs to keep your chasm on his lips while you have Geto keen to your mouth and hands stroking him. 

“—Khhhh, Jesus Christ…Hohhh, right there, sweetie…” The raven-haired one coos as you kiss your way down to his balls to suck one as you continue to jerk him. “Heh, you doing good down there, Satoru?”

The snow-haired other removes his mouth from your folds, licking your essence that sticks to his lips like honey mixed with his saliva. “Hahaa, you have no idea. I could stay like this for hours,” his tongue licks your come to your clit tantalizingly slow, evoking you to almost choke on Geto’s girth. “Aww, look at you trying to move from me,” Gojo brings your hips back down to him for him to swirl around your labia, his grip on your thighs refusing to submit. “Don’t go anywhere, princess; I’m not finished until you cum on my face again.”

“Ohhh, shit, keep doing what you’re doing, Satoru,” Geto subtly bucks his hips, “I love the way they’re whining on my dick…”

With your puffy lips being busy in the front and your cunt being lapped and nibbled on from below, your senses are clouded by the two boys who seek nothing but your participation in experiencing pleasure. Your head gradually turns into mush with every rut to your throat and every lap around your clitoris. It’s to no surprise that your release seeps out of your body without preparation, crying on Geto’s length as your frame quivers in euphoric bliss. 

And if you think you couldn’t get swamped enough, think again. 

“—Nnngh, fuck, Y/n, you’re gripping on my dick like crazy…Hehe, is it because you can’t look me in the face? Damn, you’re such a cutie…”

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of Gojo’s neck as you’re straddling on top of him, your nude, sweaty bodies melted together to share heat. Your hips bounce up and down on his pelvis, where his rubber-covered length is scraping the walls of your vagina. His left curve grazes and jabs your sweet spots, and your body lies on top of Gojo, which brings more friction to your clitoris. 

“Hahhh, ahhnn—Ohhhh!” Your phrases have doubled down to that of whimpers of pleasure, thinking straight is impossible, and your mind is too deep in a haze to focus on anything outside of what’s happening. And it’s not like you can’t stop your hips from bouncing on his shaft — you’ve tried! But the moment your legs express so much as reluctance or fatigue, Gojo’s hands are right there on your ass to guide you back into the rhythm. So it’s expected when you climax on him once more, clamping onto him as you ride out another orgasmic wave. “Ahhaaa! Sa’toruuu, stooohhp—hic…! I’m ‘oo sens' tiveee!!” 

“You say that, but—hnnn! You’re rocking those hips of yours on your own, baby.” He chuckles at your slurred speech, placing kisses on your cheek as his hands massage your asscheeks. “Holy shit, you feel so unreal; wanna fuck you raw so bad with how tight you are.” 

“Don’t even think about it, Satoru,” you hear Geto’s voice from behind, the dent of the twin-size bed shifting with his added weight. “If I can’t go condom-less, you’re not getting any special treatment out of it either.”

“Psssh, yeah, yeah,” Gojo says with rolled azure eyes before he whispers to your ear. “Come on, angel, let’s get you prepped up.” The white-haired boy’s hands spread your butt, exposing his dick buried deep into your tight slit and your taint.  

Geto grins salaciously. “My, what a dirty sight for me, my love.” You chew your lips to his words, the heat in your ears causing them to ring. You then feel his fingers smothered in lube to meet your asshole, spiraling around it before inserting them one by one. Your holes instinctively contract, making Gojo hiss. “Relax, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

You remind your figure to calm down, allowing Geto to play with your anus for it to accommodate the next foreign limb he’ll put inside. Gojo keeps kneading your butt, but he throws furtive thrusts up to your chasm to keep you on your toes. You gasp when Geto removes his digits suddenly, and now you bite your bottom lip at the contact of his cockhead touching your puckered entrance. “Stay calm for me, princess. Gonna go slow just for you…”

Breathing with your mouth is the only way you can function through his insertion; even after he properly lubed himself and the rubber, it never fails to amaze you how you’ve been able to take in his girthy dick times before. Every inch pushed inside you feels as if your breath is pulled away, feeling both your holes become occupied. And your head goes up at the snap of Geto’s pelvis smacking on your ass, mouth agape for drool to sneak down puffy lips. 

“Heh, there you are,” Gojo licks your spit before placing a kiss on your lips. “What a pretty face when you’re going dumb on our dicks, Y/n.”

You couldn’t even reply in modesty because Geto immediately goes pounding your ass with hunger. Your wails come out freely at the pacing of both boys propelling themselves into you. And it doesn’t help that your holes don’t stop contracting on their dicks as they push, the motion making you move your clit against Gojo and having your sore nerves active again. 

“Holy fuck,”Geto drills his cock into your taint, grinding his hips into you to make you whine aloud. He then bends to kiss your sweaty shoulder down to your spine. “You’re so tight, Y/n…like you’re gonna milk me dry.”

Words are exhilarated squeaks and shrills, your arms coming around Gojo’s neck and pressing your hot cheek on his. He snickers at how touchy you are, “Hey, baby,” he coaxes you through the onslaught of ruts that quicken in tempo. “God, you sound so fucking cute, angel…” 

“—Ahhahh…! Ohhh, guysss, pleaseee, slow d—Owwhhnn!!” You cry, eyes watering with the pokes and jabs on your velvety insides, the curve of Gojo scraping you in places you can’t reach, and Geto’s girth having your backside completely stretched for him. It’s all too much to focus on as your delicate bud is pressed on by your weight. “…Nhooo, God, I’m gonna—“

“Gonna cum, cutie?” You nod hurriedly, amusing Gojo for more chuckles. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Such a pretty girl…” And then, Gojo claims your lips for a steamy, passionate kiss, bringing a hand from your bottom to place behind your head to keep you on him. 

“—Hnngh!! Wait, sweetheart, don’t clamp onto me so sudden—Ohh, shit, shit, shiiit,” Black hair strands fall from Geto’s shoulders as he falters at your grip. “Gonna cum, too….Gahhh—“

Your crescendo is the first to appear, howling and mewling into Gojo’s lips while your trembling figure undergoes the shocks of the deep penetration on both ends. The fluttering sensations of your cunt and anus are what prompt the two men to spill their load into you simultaneously, groaning with pleasure from your body. Your head is undoubtedly dizzy, your brain spiraling with impulses as your frame jerks with every wave of your orgasm. 

After his climax is done, Geto slowly withdraws his cock from you. The condom filled with his essence. “Phew, that felt way too good.”

“For real, can’t get enough of this.” Gojo sighs while groping your asscheeks and kissing your forehead. “Ready for another round, baby? C’mon, let’s switch before Suguru gets all crybaby on us.” His sweet tone immediately flips to narrow his eyes at Geto for throwing his used, tied condom at Gojo's face for that comment. “Oh, you disgusting son of a bitch…”

“Shut up and switch, or else I’ll have you watch me pound Y/n for fifteen minutes.”

Being loved and obsessed by the two heartthrobs of the school is no easy work, which is evident when you can’t even get to nap by yourself after the sexual activities. With Gojo spooning Geto while he spoons you, there is no rest with these two; they might as well put collars around their necks and give you their leashes with how smitten they are to be around you.

Yet, at the same time, you don’t hate it — far from that. Because you know their feelings for you are genuine, you can see it in their sleeping faces as they’re probably thinking about you in your dreams as you observe. With a smile, you place kisses on their cheeks and silently leave the bed to use their shower. 

The warm water is just as welcoming and temperate as their love, keeping you safe and washing your anxiousness away. In your thoughts, you reflect on all the times you’ve grown because of them, and it goes to show that their involvement has done substantial help for you. And for that, you are forever grateful for them and will always reciprocate their feelings as you feel the same. 

“Hey, Y/n.”

Well, minus the immediate sense of apprehension that skyrockets once you hear Geto’s voice come behind you. You turn to see his naked self coming towards you to wrap his arms around your waist. “Suguru!? I–I thought you were sleep—“

“I was until you left my arms,” he says to your ear with his dulcet voice, his hands kneading the flesh of your wet hips. “Besides, saves us a lot of time if we share the shower, right?”

“Oh, Y/n~,” another voice enters the bathroom, and your dread plummets even further when Gojo opens the curtains with glee. “Don’t tell me you decided to shower without m—…Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Obviously,” Geto sucks his teeth at his roommate. “I live in this apartment and use this same shower, dumbass.”

Snowy eyebrows crease with irritation as Gojo enters the walk-in shower, sandwiching you between the two. “Well, don’t you think it’s rude for you to use the shower when our guest is using it first?”

“I could be asking you the same thing because who told you to come here?”

“Duh! I’m here to shower with my lover; are you stupid?”

“Are you? Don’t you see a boyfriend is trying to have some alone time with their partner?”

“Oh, eat horse shit.”

“Croak and die.”

You can only stand there and be mushed by the two tall boys arguing over you, unable to flee the scene as they both have their hands on you. Again, you don’t hate it at all. You love them just as much as they love and adore you. They may be the school favorites; however, you are the most precious thing they wish to engage with and want to keep to themselves.

…But would it kill them to give you some room once in a while!?

Jesus, how am I gonna survive with these two…

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[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

[agaypanic]

Hii I’d like to request Regina having a crush on reader but reader has a hard time liking her back cause of what was written about reader in the burn book (with a fluff ending??) thank you!

Who Wrote This? (Regina George X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Even though all that had happened junior year was forgiven, what was written about you in that wretched burn book still tugged at you mind. It makes it hard for you to warm up to Regina, who just wants to be with you.

A/N: regina wrote mean ass shit in the burn book so a warning for that ig

***

“Regina, if you keep staring at her, she might think you’re crazy.” The lacrosse team giggled as they watched Regina watch you. She was packing her bag after practice when she caught sight of you coming out of the school library.

“Oh, shut up.” She said, not bothering to take her eyes off of you. 

This wasn’t the first time Regina’s friends had caught her looking at you. Ever since sophomore year, after being sat next to you in one of her classes, it was like she couldn’t get you out of her head. No matter how many boyfriends, or more like boy toys, she had, or how many people she slept with. When it was all over, she still thought about you, who was nothing but kind and sweet to her despite her reputation of being an evil Plastic.

“When are you gonna go talk to her?” Dina, one of Regina’s teammates, nudged her arm. “You’re clearly, like, in love with her.”

“I can’t.” She answered, now somber. “I’m pretty sure she completely hates me.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but Regina didn’t know that. From how you acted now, like she repulsed you, it seemed like you despised her. And she knew it was all her fault.

Everyone except for you had gotten over what was written about them in the burn book. The moment you read what had been written about you, what people seemed to think of you, you realized that Regina George was a two-faced mega bitch and would never change. It didn’t matter how nice you were, or how many notes or pens you had let her borrow, or how genuine she seemed around you. She would always think she was above everyone, and the people below were as meaningless and bothersome as gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

You knew she was different now, like she had really grown. But you didn’t buy it for a second. So you kept your distance, speeding off or changing seats whenever Regina tried getting close to you. Yet there was a small part of you that was hopeful about the fact that she was better now, that she wasn’t so mean.

After zipping up your bag, you looked up and locked eyes with Regina on the soccer field. Even though she was far away, she could see you clench your jaw before storming off to your car.

She couldn’t do this anymore. No matter how much you tried to avoid her, she needed to talk to you.

***

You loved spending your free period in the library. You were able to catch up on homework or studying without getting distracted. Plus, Regina never came in here.

You heard the door open but didn’t look up from your notebook, where you copied notes from your textbook. Footsteps came near you, but you figured they were going to a seat past you.

But then someone sat down in the chair next to you. You looked up in the confusion, but that soon turned into an expression of annoyance.

“Please,” Regina whispered, grabbing your wrist before you could try to back your things and leave. You glared at her, and she had to force herself not to wince at your harshness. “Please, Y/n, I just wanna talk.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Just hear me out.” Regina pleaded, trying to stay quiet. She scooted her chair closer to you, and was surprised that you didn’t lean back or scoot away. “Hear me out, and then when I’m done, I’ll leave you alone forever. I promise.” 

It pained her to promise you that, but she figured it was the only way you’d listen to her.

You stared at her momentarily before you sighed and relaxed slightly in your seat.

“Fine.” You said. “But make it quick.”

Regina nodded, trying to get her thoughts together. To be honest, she didn’t really think she’d make it this far.

“I’m sorry.” She started. “Really, really sorry. What I wrote about you in that book, I didn’t mean it, and I regret writing it every day. You were one of the only people in this school that I genuinely liked, and I ruined what little we had because I wrote something stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid.” You interjected, bitterness in your tone. “It was mean, Regina.” You turned your seat to face her better. She was glad that you were finally looking at her without running away, but hated the look of disdain and hurt on your face. “I think about what you wrote about me every day. It’s practically burned into my brain at this point. ‘Y/n L/n is a skank that no one would touch with a ten-foot pole. That-’”

“‘That nerdy bitch will end up alone.’” Regina finished the quote, her voice meek and cheeks red from embarrassment. “I remember.”

“I’m glad you have such a good memory.” You said sarcastically. “If you wrote that about someone you say you genuinely liked, I wonder what you’d write about your own mother.”

“Y/n…” Regina sighed. This was definitely not going the way she had wanted. But at the same time, she expected this to be a sour interaction. “I didn’t mean what I wrote.”

“Oh really? What, was it just a spur-of-the-moment decision to cut out my school picture and write that?”

“I had to write it, Y/n.” The absurdity of that statement shocked you into silence, so Regina took it as a chance to continue before you told her you didn’t want to hear it. “I put myself in there to frame Cady, Gretchen, and Karen for making the book. But then I remembered that you weren’t in there. I never wanted you in that book, but I didn’t want you to be blamed for it if Mr. Duvall realized you weren’t in it.”

“So…” You were trying to wrap your head around Regina’s words. “You wrote all that stuff… to protect me?”

“I hated every minute of it.” Regina seemed so serious; she looked so desperate for you to believe her. “It was so hard to write that, because I didn’t believe any of it. The truth is… I’ve actually liked you for a long time, Y/n.” You looked at her bewildered, and she took your silence as a cue to continue. “That’s why I had never put you in the book. I remember always pretending to forget or lose my pencils so I could talk to you because you’d always let me borrow yours. Or I’d leave one of my books at home, hoping that you’d share yours with me.” Regina took a deep breath, reminiscing on the little moments she had with you before she ruined it all. “It’s so corny, but I never felt as on top of the world as I did when you were talking to me.”

You stared at Regina, completely shocked. This was not at all what you were expecting when she begged you to listen to her. At the most, you thought it’d be a little apology, and then she’d leave. Instead, you had gotten a full-on love confession from Regina George, who, for the first time probably ever, looked scared as she waited for your response.

“I’ll leave you alone now.” She said after another minute of awkward silence. “I promise I won’t try to bother you anymore. And again, I’m really sorry.”

Regina stood up, but your hand shot out and grabbed her arm to stop her. She looked down at you to find that you were already staring at her.

“I…” You started, still trying to process the situation. “I guess I can forgive you. And I suppose I could give you another chance. You know, like a do-over.”

“Really?” Regina smiled hopefully, lowering back down into her chair. You realized your hand was still clasped around her arm, so you let go and cleared your throat.

“Yeah. I mean, after all, you gotta make it up to me. Emotional damages and all.” 

You returned to the notes and textbook you had neglected, found where you had left off, and started writing again. Regina took this as her cue to leave, and she wondered what would happen after this. But before she could stand up again, your free hand drifted to hers on the table, pinky laying over hers. She smiled and curled her small finger around yours.

You stayed there until the end of your free period. And when the two of you went to your next class, which you shared, Regina was both relieved and ecstatic when you sat in the seat next to her without a second thought.

[star--stilinski]

Going off on your “stiles being accidentally hot”. Think of like a beach date but then you notice how all the girls are looking at him but he’s obliviously stiles not realizing he’s gained muscle from all his lacrosse training

(Then you prove he’s yours) WHAT?! Who said that?!

(Sorry I’m a freak)

anon is referring to this post.

did i make this ask from a different account?? i feel like we type the same. also that last part looks like the one meme of the spongebob fish looking back... ykwim?? too lazy to find it.

i would like to apologize to all blondes about to read this fic. my condolences.

☆

scott is spraying stiles down, head-to-toe with SPF 50. the way the sunscreen looks on his skin as it soaks in is downright criminal, honestly, and it seems you're not the only one who's noticed.

there's a pretty blonde bitch staring at your boyfriend.

okay, well, wait a second there. she's not a bitch for admiring him. there's been no tell that he's taken.

yet.

you frown and take a drink of the margarita lydia asked you to hold. there's a lipstick stain on the can where her lips were imprinted, but that doesn't sway your gaze from the blonde as she takes notice to his newfound abs. they're not crazy chiseled like derek- but they're definitely there.

meanwhile, bless his heart, your idiot boyfriend is singing along to the song blasting from the speaker scott brought, and he's using the sunscreen bottle as a mic. he turns to you and points as he sings the lyrics like the performance is just for you, and this does make you smile.

"is that a fruity marg? for me?" he drops the sunscreen and takes lydia's drink from your hand. before you can protest, he's already taken a big swig, and there's a shine on his bottom lip when he swallows. "that is really good. wanna taste?"

"what? i already had a taste. besides, it's-"

and then he's kissing you, pressing the strawberry flavor into your mouth. you flush bright pink and he pulls away, bobbing his eyebrows at you with a grin. "good, right? sorry, you just look really nice in that swimsuit."

you're aware, with the way his eyes dip down to peruse over your cleavage and hips, that 'nice' is code for 'unjustly fuckable.' and you kinda wish he would say it. but alas, scott is calling his name to throw a football back and forth and you brought your book for a reason, so you part ways with a mutual look of longing.

from your spot on the beach, the veiw is great. the white sands, the pretty waves, your boyfriend's pecs, the blue sky. really, the scenery is hard to beat. stiles' hair is stuck to his forehead after getting dunked by isaac and liam. oh, and your book is good too. you've been stuck on the same page since you sat down.

and there's two younger teenage girls fawning over stiles under a canopy next to you guys. lydia swirls her half-empty drink and scoffs at their giggling, glancing at you. "don't tell me they're the ones getting to you."

"what ever could you mean?" you bat your lashes at her dramatically. "they're just young girls who can appreciate hard work on a man, anyway."

"those aren't young girls." lydia nods past you, eyes darting between something. when you turn your head to look, there's that gorgeous blonde again with what seems to be her friend. both of them are slim and tall, and totally hotter than you. and eyeing stiles, much more boldly this time.

"careful babe, you're showing your teeth." lydia turns back to her own book and languidly flips the page. you close your eyes and huff out a sigh.

"it's probably just the newfound biceps, right? and the hair. he deserves some flattery."

"go cool off, i can't focus with the smoke blowing out of your ears." lydia hums without looking up.

you stand. "i'm gonna go for a swim."

"watch for sharks."

you glare at the two women across the way. "yeah, i will."

but just as you begin to make your way to the ocean, the football the boys were throwing veers off course and rolls over to the two younger teenagers, stopping right at their bare feet. you pause, watching as if in slo-mo as stiles jogs up and apologizes, seeming oblivious to their blushing and giggling. one of them hands him the ball back, and he beams down at her gratefully. they squeal when he jogs off.

you don't realize your fists are clenched until you're already in the water. they're little girls! that is totally normal! why are you being so territorial, as if he's gonna even know they like him!

you splash some water on your face, calming at the gentle sway of the tide, the cool temperature of the ocean lapping at your skin. yeah, you're fine. it was just a blip. just a blip. you're chill.

you turn towards the beach to beckon lydia in, but halt as you see blonde bitch and her croonie talking to stiles closely. you're so not fucking chill right now-

cool it, take a breath. you clench your jaw and shut your eyes, grounding yourself. you will not play overbearing girlfriend just as soon as stiles is getting attention. he needs to know that you're not lying when you call him hot and sexy and pretty and everything else that is true. this is perfect confirmation.

your eyes open because you hear a pretty, high-pitched laugh. it's the blondie's equally-gorgeous friend, who tucks her hair back and bats her lashes at him. he rubs the back of his neck, which he usually only does when you get suggestive with him.

and then blondie caresses his perfect, freckled bicep.

oh hell no.

you storm out of the water and right up to their little conversation, grabbing stiles by the wrist. "hey, can i talk to you for a sec?"

but you're already moving, practically dragging him along behind you as you make your way to the edge of the open beach, where there's a large rock sectioning off what's open and what's not. you pull stiles around it, stomping through shallow water to reach a completely empty, private side of the beach.

you don't think about who could stumble over or how the long grass tickles your ankles- you're already pressing stiles up against the large rock and kissing him blind.

he makes an "mmph!" noise when you first crash your lips onto his, but enthusiastically returns the kiss with a hand sliding to the back of your head. you barely come up for air as you lap your tongue into his mouth roughly, hands splaying across his naked, smooth torso. you press your whole body up against his, needing more more more of him. you need him all over you, need him to know who he chose and why. your mouth travels to his neck, and it tastes salty sweet when you start the makings of a dark hickey.

"hoooly- i'm- i'm, uh, not suggesting you stop, like at all, but i am a bit curious on what i, uh- fuck- did to get here? j-just so i can..." his words trail off as your fingers trace underneath his swim trunks. a strangled noise leaves his throat when you press your hips into his growing erection, raking your teeth lightly across the new mark at the same time.

"stupid fucking girls practically throwing themselves at you," you mumble bitterly before going in for another heated kiss. "as if it's not obvious we're together."

he pulls back from the kiss and you open your eyes to glare at him, only to be met with a cocky smirk and wide eyes. "are you saying you're jealous?"

you pull your body off of his, shoving his shoulder lightly. "don't look so happy! she was practically stripping you naked with her eyes."

he cups your neck with his hand, reminding you of how big it is. stiles' eyes lose the self-assured glint and go soft, flitting all over your face as he parts his lips. "you're not mad, are you?"

"at you? no." you feel his other hand slide around your hip and over the top of your ass, pressing your body back up against his not-so-subtly. "at the girls practically prowling around you like you're some piece of meat? yes."

his eyes zero in on your lips as you lick them, furrowing his brow a bit like he has to focus in order to finish his thought. "i didn't even know she was flirting. i wouldn't have..."

but you don't let him finish, stretching up to kiss again and he deepens the kisses quickly, his hands pulling you in. you mouth down stiles' neck and chest, slowly sinking to your knees in front of him. before you got far, he was all breathy encouragement. but when you look up at him, face to face with his happy trail and low-hanging trunks, his jaw goes slack and his eyes glaze over in anticipation.

"oh, are we- are we doing-? okay, yep, yepyepyep i am very cool with this, yeah-" he helps you slide his trunks far down enough as you kiss along his subtle v-line. he sighs, brows upturned for you. "all yours, it's all yours."

you nod, smirking to yourself when he has to clamp a palm over his mouth as your hands begin what your tongue will soon replace.

☆

stiles stumbles out from behind the rock a little while after you, red in the face and littered in hickeys. scott turns to you with a scrunched up nose, feigning disgust. "dude. seriously?"

you blink at him, wide eyed. "what? i was just checking on a jellyfish sting!"

lydia raises her drink to you, not looking up from her book. "impressive time."

"you think so?" you smile sweetly at her.

"unless he's always that quick."

"you guys are disgusting." scott gags as he escapes you two.

☆

im gonna be late for work because of this

[dominicfikeenthusiast]

UNSENT LETTERS (PART 1) / MATT STURNIOLO

“old shoe box underneath his bed, filled with love letters”

matt opened his journal tearing another page from it. his pen scribbled a small note “your hair looked pretty today.” he folded the piece of paper opening the old shoe box underneath his bed, filled with love letters. for you, his childhood best-friend.

you had known the triplets since you could remember, being just a street down from them. every morning you would ride to school with them, this morning was no different.

you hopped into the grey mini van, in the backseat with nick. “goodmorninggg” you say in unusual happy voice. “whatcha you so happy about kid, we’re going into hell at 8am” chris snarks from the front seat. “i have a date after school, hoping to keep my excited mood all day” you remark smiling.

matt’s heart almost dropped as he was driving, a date? his hand clutches the wheel, enough to make his knuckles white. “a date?” he scoffs, his voice laced with jealousy.

“oh my god, is it with brayden?” nick squeals excitedly. you nod your head, a slight blush evident on your face. the triplets knew that he had been your crush for almost 2 years. matt & chris also being on the same lacrosse team as him. “i’m so glad he got the hint when i gave him your number” chris says.

this obviously didn’t help matt’s emotions towards this date. “you gave him her number?” matt asks through gritted teeth trying to not show how upset he was.

“yup! look at me, call me cupid from now on” chris says with a big smile on his face. “why don’t you hit yourself with the bow, maybe then you’ll get some bitches” nick jokes. causing yet another fight between the boys.

as they bickered, you were texting brayden, smiling as your fingertips hit the phone. matt noticed, he noticed everything about you. god her smile is beautiful matt thought to himself. wishing that he was the one making you smile like that, not brayden.

·:*¨༺ ♱ ੈ‧₊˚ ✮ ੈ‧₊˚ ♱ ༻¨*:·

𝜗𝜚 - ps. this is my first ever seriesss! i’m so excited for this y’all 🤍🤍 alsooo lmk if u want to be tagged in the next parts!

𝜗𝜚 - tags : @bells-sturn @sturnxies @iheartmattsbeard @chrislilcumslvt @mattsmiddlepartt @chrissv4mp @flouvela @chrisfavoritewhore @luckystarlogs @snowysosturn @x0x0bunny @anastasia-ac3rr3 @submattenthusiast @s7attr @jassturn @liasturniolo @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @ilovedyoumiss @kirby0strombolli @milaatyourworst @chrissvalentine @kennastromboli @mattsangel @lovesturni0l0s @rorylovesmatt @ifwdominicfike @chrispleasure

[letmerideitchris]

𝒯𝒽ℯ ℛℴℴ𝓉𝓈 ℴ𝒻 𝒪𝓊𝓇 ℒℴ𝓋ℯ ⚘

part 2

“Oh my god it’s matt” 

“he's so hot” 

“Can you believe he's single?”

Matt Sturniolo is the most popular and hottest guy in school and practically has girls falling at his feet. He is your typical popular guy, plays lacrosse, has lots of friends and looks really good. 

y/n is the complete opposite, although she is pretty and hardworking, no one seems to pay attention to her at all. She always shows up to school half an hour early, eats her lunch in the classroom and finishes all her assignments the quickest, she enjoys her solitude. Although from the outside Matt and y/n are different, at heart they are quite similar. Matt does enjoy his own time away from all the noise at school and he does do quite well academically. Although recently he’s been swapping his tests with his not so smart triplet brother; Chris, so he doesn’t seem like a nerd, but no one needs to know that. 

It all started at 8:am at Boston high school “yo Matt what’s good” his friends say as he daps up all the boys up whilst entering the school. y/n was already in their classroom with her nose in her new book from her local library. She gets distracted by the sound of everyone greeting Matt and gets up to look out the glass window of the classroom door. There he is, Matt Sturniolo, the only man you've ever had your eyes on since freshman year. You’re watching him approach his locker, looking at him laughing with several of his friends, but the only one you’re looking at is Matt. You’re about to turn back to your book but you see out the corner of your eye him glance into the classroom you quickly try and play off the fact that you were staring at him by adjusting your glasses on the bridge of your nose and you awkwardly sit back down. 

The bell sounds in the hallways, and everyone walks to their respective classrooms including Matt, which just so happens to be her classroom for history. She quickly fixes her hair and continues to read her book as if she wasn’t watching him walk towards the classroom. The sound of the door opening distracts her from the words in her book as she sees Matt walk in the room in the corner of her eye. It's just you and Matt in the classroom now and you can see him walking towards you. “Is that to kill a mockingbird by harper lee?” Matt says as he breaks the comfortable silence. Your heart is racing and suddenly you feel your palms start to sweat, you clear your throat “uh yeah it is... have you read it before?” 

“well not exactly...” he laughs “I just looked at the front cover when you were reading it...” Matt slightly lowers his head and smiles whilst approaching the desk next to her. “oh haha.. You really should read it, it's quite interesting....” your voice fades out quietly realizing you're talking to Matt Sturniolo, not someone in your book club. 

“I'm not really the reading type of guy, and plus, i uh don’t have a library membership…” Matt says sliding his bag off his shoulder and throws under his desk “oh yeah, right” you say whilst placing the bookmark onto your page. 

“you’re all dismissed, and don’t forget your paragraph on British Settlement is due in tomorrow's lesson.” Matt gets up from his seat and packs up his books. Whilst you're still seated, working up the confidence to say something to him. He pushes in his chair and starts to walk off. 

“Hey,Matt” he turns back around briefly smiling, “you can always uhm... borrow my book, I don't think you’re going to be getting a library membership any time soon” you say with a shy smirk.  He scoffs “you know what, I might just do that, because uhm... My mom has been trying to get me to read a book for a while now” He lies through his teeth “thanks uhh, y/n, right?”. You can feel your cheeks burning up at your name coming out of his mouth, sounding as smooth as honey. “yeah..” you both stop to look at each other, you break the silence “uh yeah heres the book, don't rush to get it back to me... Theres plenty more copies at the library.” you say handing him your book. “Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow y/n”. 

After school, you’re texting your best friend Taylor nonstop about everything that happened in history today whilst she was at home sick;  

credits to @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hiya! Do you know any Sterek fics where Derek rejects the mate bond with Stiles and just ignores it all, leading to Stiles feeling the strain or pain of an ignored/incomplete bond? I've read one before where Derek just moved away cuz he didn't think it was a big deal and Stiles really took the brunt of it. But any fics that are similar would be perfect. P.S. Thank you for everything that you do and I hope that you're having a great day!

Oh yes. I love this kind of angst.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 1,423 I Teen)

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Second Chances by rootbeer

(1/1 I 2,624 I General)

"A lot of times the ‘markings’ were common, simple things you said to strangers all the time. 'Excuse me'; 'thank you'; 'hello'. Some got extremely romantic things like 'it’s you isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you' or 'Wow you’re really pretty'. And they were always the first words their soulmate would ever say to them.

Of course, having 'You are the fucking worst kind of person in the world' tattooed down your side, didn’t bode well. How fucked up was Stiles Stilinski that even his fucking Soulmate hated him? High School had been a special kind of hell when all the kids learned what his tattoo said—despite his best efforts to keep it a secret."

Three Marks by sanam

(8/8 I 113,736 I Mature)

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5

(26/26 I 200,462 I Explicit)

“Mates don't always mean happy ever after.”

When twenty-year-old born omega werewolf Stiles Stilinski received that cryptic email from his twin brother—who'd been missing for two years exactly—in a language the two of them had made up, his drive to find Stuart is doubled. The search leads him to Oak Creek, the most secured and heavily fortified city in all of California, where he finds that not only is his brother dead, but also the literal alpha of his Dreams in Derek Hale—who just happens to be his twin's Mate and the main suspect in Stiles' eyes. Despite an agreement to fight mutual feelings, the two are still drawn to each other as they try to solve the case themselves, uncovering a plot that goes deeper than the murder of just one wolf.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(19/? I 535,709 I Explicit)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

[ilovepeterbarker]

The Plan (Teaser)

Peter kavinsky x reader

Warnings: Kissing, cheesy, cute

Summary: You and Peter write and discuss the rules of your fake relationship.

Authors note: This is my first post things might be misspelled so please bear with me. Deeply inspired by to all the boys I loved before except no letters and Peter is a basketball player instead of lacrosse (sorry). Please tell me what you guys think! Thank you!

You and Peter were fake dating. And are currently talking about the rules right now at school. We walk towards the bleachers sitting down.

“Okay what are the rules?” Peter says

“We can’t tell anyone about this arrangement.” You say.

“Right, that one is obvious." He nods his head, leaning against the metal of the bleachers. "What else?

“You have to drive me to school.” You say.

“And after school. That’s easy enough, I’m always going home." He then says some of his rules.

"And you’ll go to my basketball games, right?” He says.

“Yes if you can take me there.” You say.

“Of course I can take you, babe." He grins, playfully using the pet name.

You roll my eyes at him. “Anything else?”

He laugh at your eye roll, pretending to be hurt. "Aw, don’t roll your eyes at me. Can I have one more thing?”

“Sure” You say.

He smirks, eyes flickering with mischief. "Can I put my arm around you in public?”

“Yes.” You say.

He scoot closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him. "Good. Now you’re really my fake girlfriend.”

You start to write down the rules for this arrangement making a contract and write two lines at the bottom sighing your name on one of them.

He watches as you write the contract, his arm still wrapped around you. He peek at the list, raising an eyebrow at the contract part. "A contract? Are you really going to sign that?”

“Yes” you say seriously.

He lets out a chuckle, amused by your seriousness. "You're so dedicated to this fake dating thing. Are you sure you're not enjoying this a little too much?”

“Are you sure you are?” You tease.

He pretends to think about it for a moment, a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe I am. You're not too bad as a fake girlfriend, you know.”

You push the paper for him to sign giving him a pen.

He take the pen and signs his name on the contract, a grin spreading across his face. "Now it's official. We're fake dating, babe.”

You grimace and write another rule. *No calling me babe*

He pouts, feigning disappointment. "Aww, come on. It was cute. And it's part of the boyfriend experience.”

“You can call me sweetheart then.” You say smoothly.

He rolls his eyes playfully, but a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Fine, sweetheart it is then. But you have to call me darling.”

“Fine darling.” You smile playfully.

You and Peter are doing this arrangement for two reason one to make his ex girlfriend jealous and you to avoid your neighbor who has a crush on you but can’t take a hint.

Peter is aware of your situation with your neighbor, and it amuses him a little. “So you're using me to get your neighbor off your back, huh?” He grins. "I guess I'm just a convenient shield, sweetheart.”

“And you’re using me to get back with your ex.” You say in the same accusing tone.

He chuckles and nods, not bothering to deny it. "Guilty as charged. But hey, I get to spend time with a pretty girl while doing it. So I'm not complaining.”

You roll your eyes and then see your neighbor josh looking and walking towards both of you and panic kissing peter.

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 2 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.3

Masterlist.

Warning: Not my edit, Smut content, don’t like it = don’t read it :)

Summary: Y/N and Chris's relationship has evolved, but Y/N insists on keeping a low profile for fear that her parents will find out she has a boyfriend.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

"Wake up, honey, your dad is dropping you off today," my mom said, gently stroking my hair to wake me up.

I just hummed in response, too lazy to open my mouth and speak.

After a few seconds of tossing in bed to stretch and rub my eyes, I reached for my phone.

I smiled foolishly at my phone before getting out of bed to get ready.

My relationship with Chris had evolved since the night he climbed through my window two weeks ago. We decided to take our time; nothing was officially defined, and not many people knew about us.

Mainly because I was afraid my parents would find out I had a boyfriend. Chris didn't care; he wasn't the type to overthink, and that's precisely why I tried to keep this relationship discreet.

My parents had been quite clear in the past about boys—no boyfriends before the end of high school. According to them, it's a distraction, and they want me to focus fully on my studies, which I can understand.

On top of that, Chris is pretty much everything my parents would dislike, so it would be even worse if they found out I was dating him.

Anyway, I left my room to head to the bathroom. I took a quick shower, got dressed, brushed my teeth, styled my hair, and applied a bit of makeup.

I wanted to look a bit nicer today for Chris; I knew this lacrosse match was important for him, and I wanted to please him.

"You look very beautiful. Do you have a special event today?" my father asked as he saw me coming into the kitchen.

"Um, no, I just felt like getting ready a bit," I nervously replied before sitting at the table for breakfast.

"By the way, I'll probably be home a bit later tonight. There's an important lacrosse match, and I plan to watch it with Julia," I added nervously.

"Hm," my father looked at me strangely before returning to his phone.

I had my breakfast peacefully, and then my father and I headed to school.

My morning went by normally—nothing extraordinary. I attended classes, worked, and chatted a bit with my best friend Julia. Then lunchtime arrived.

"See you at the match!" I told Julia as I left the class to go to my locker.

I opened my locker to put away my things, and when I closed it, I was taken by surprise by Chris standing right behind me.

"Oh my god, Chris!" I said, placing my hand on my heart, thinking I was having a heart attack.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said, chuckling, and I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder before laughing myself.

"You look good," he said with a smirk, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I made an effort for you today," I told him, smiling and tilting my head to the side.

"Can't wait to take off that little skirt later," he whispered in my ear, making me blush.

"Chris!" I said, clearing my throat and looking around to make sure no one had heard.

He chuckled before leaning toward me for a kiss, and instinctively, I pulled back.

He gave me a confused look. "Not here. I don't want anyone to see us," I said timidly.

"Y/n, your parents aren't going to magically appear out of nowhere and catch us kissing. We're at school," he replied, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"I know, but I don't want to take the risk of someone telling them!" I replied.

"I couldn't care less if your parents don't like me, Y/n. It annoys me that I can't kiss you whenever I want!" he said, getting frustrated.

"Chris, I know. I'm sorry. Please, stop," I said, immediately feeling guilty. "Maybe you don't care, but it's important to me. I'm not ready for them to know. I need a little more time."

He sighed, throwing his head back. "Yeah, see you at the match after school," he said before turning around and leaving.

It really bothered me that things were so complicated. It was just the beginning of our relationship, and I was terrified of ruining everything because of my parents.

The rest of the day, I wasn't really focused on anything. I couldn't stop thinking about Chris. I didn't want to hurt him, and I could sense that this situation was bothering him. I wanted to find a way to make it up to him.

After school, Julia and I headed straight to the stadium to watch Chris's match. We had seats right at the front in the stands.

"Hold this for me. I'm going to see Chris quickly before the match starts," I told my best friend, handing her my bag.

Of course, she knew about Chris and me; she was the first person to find out.

She nodded, smiling at me, and I ran toward the locker rooms. I was lucky; Chris had just come out.

I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a more discreet spot where no one could see us, then kissed him.

"I'm sorry for earlier," I replied, separating our lips. "I don't want our argument to distract you from your match. I'll find a solution."

"I'm not angry with you, Y/n," he said, placing his hand on my cheek. "It's just that I wish I could show everyone that you're mine."

"Shut up," I said, grabbing the collar of his shirt to kiss him. "How about you show me how much I'm yours after this match," I added, biting my lip.

"You won't have to ask me twice," he said, grabbing me by the waist, pulling me against him, and kissing me again. "Join me in the locker room after the match," he said, disconnecting our lips.

"Chris, I meant at your place or mine, not here dumbass," I said, chuckling.

"I won't wait until then. If it were up to me, I'd fuck you against this wall," he said, smiling.

"No, Chris, you're insane. We're not doing that in the locker room," I said, shaking my head.

"Okay, let's make a deal. If I score three times during this match, we do it in the locker room. Otherwise, it's up to you to decide," he said, extending his hand.

"Chris," I said, looking at him seriously, and he insisted, "Oh my god, okay fine, deal," I finally gave in, and he kissed me quickly before turning back to the others.

Even if Chris was doing pretty well in lacrosse, there was little chance he would score three times on his own. Given the level of his team, I knew this deal was already in my favor.

"Are you done making out with your secret boyfriend?" Julia said when I came back to sit next to her.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, laughing.

It was Chris's first match that I attended. I had seen him practice once or twice quickly, but I didn't expect to find it so attractive to watch him play.

I don't know if it was the brutality with which he entered the opposing team members sometimes or the moments of pause when he removed his helmet to run his hand through his hair.

Not to mention the countless times he threw me looks that, honestly, soaked my panties.

I already found Chris incredibly sexy in everyday life. Sometimes I even felt like a teenager in front of a boyband with him. This guy represented everything I found most attractive.

When he scored for the first time, I was the first to cheer and encourage him, proud to see my boyfriend contribute to his team's victory.

The second time, however, I quickly felt reality catching up with me. Had I just been fooled? I felt anxiety creeping in. If he scored one more time, it meant I was going to sleep with him in the locker room. Oh my god, what had I done?

The rest of the match, every time he approached to score, my heart skipped a beat. But when the last few minutes arrived, I started to feel reassured.

That was without counting on the fact that Chris scored one last time in the last 5 minutes of the match.

Everyone in the stands stood up to celebrate our team's victory, and I sat there for a moment when I realized what that meant. Damn.

After a few minutes of celebration, the team left the field to head to the locker room, and I received a message from Chris.

I blushed at his message.

"Everything okay?" Julia asked, putting her hand on my shoulder, making me jump and immediately turning off my phone so she wouldn't see my messages.

"Um, yeah!" I said, clearing my throat and smiling to pretend nothing was wrong.

"Okay..." she said, looking at me strangely. "Anyways, my brother is dropping me home in 5 minutes. Do you want us to drop you off on the way to your place?" she offered.

"No, thanks, Ju. I'll wait for Chris to come out of the locker room. I have something to tell him quickly," I said timidly, running my hand over my neck.

"Oh, okay. Well, see you tomorrow, Y/n," she said, smiling before leaving.

It had been about twenty minutes since I was waiting in the stands, feeling stressed and anxious.

Of course, it wasn't about sleeping with Chris; on the contrary, I wanted it. It's just that I found it quite risky, and what if someone caught us?

Anyway, I made a deal with him, and I can't back down now.

My moment of solitude was interrupted by a message from Chris, letting me know that the locker room was empty, and he was now waiting for me to join him.

I took a deep breath and stood up before starting to walk towards the locker rooms.

I passed a few people on the way and tried to act casual as I walked past them. Once in front of the locker room door, I scanned the surroundings to make sure no one saw me enter.

I opened the door and quickly entered. My heart immediately raced when the door closed behind me.

I surveyed the room to find my boyfriend, but no one was there. "Ch-Chris?" I said timidly, gradually moving forward in the room.

No response. Turning my head, I saw Chris's bag on the bench with his lacrosse jersey on it, indicating that he was indeed here. "Not funny, idiot, answer me!" I said, rolling my eyes and starting to walk towards the showers.

Suddenly, I felt hands grab my waist and press me against a wall before feeling his lips crashing onto mine, making me sigh in surprise. "Chris! Oh my god!"

"That's the second time I've scared you today," he said, smiling proudly.

"Yes, and you really need to stop doing it if you don't want me to have a heart attack!" I said, giving him a playful shove to his chest.

I took a moment to admire him; he was shirtless, his hair still damp from the shower he probably just had. "I missed you," he said, reconnecting our lips.

"I missed you too," I replied, running my hand through his hair. "I didn't think you'd manage to score three times," I said in a slightly more timid tone.

"With the right motivation, there are plenty of things I can do," he said, smiling against my lips before removing one of the straps of my top.

"Chris—" I started to say before being cut off by his lips on my neck. "I know we made a deal, but I don't think it's a good idea," I said, unable to hold back small moans escaping my mouth.

"Why?" he asked, sliding his hands over my hips. "You don't seem like you want me to stop, judging by the sounds you're making," I could feel his smile against my neck.

"I don't—" I said, interrupted by a moan when he began nibbling on my neck. "If someone catches us, Chris, I—" I said before being cut off by his hands grabbing the back of my thighs to lift me.

"Don't worry. If you stay quiet, there's no reason anyone will catch us," he said with a smirk before kissing me again, this time our kiss was deeper and more fiery.

I knew it wasn't responsible of me, but his lips on my body only led me astray from the right path. I placed one hand on his shoulder while the other tangled in his hair. "We'll have to do this quickly, though. I don't know how much time we have before the janitor comes to clean the locker rooms," he said with a hungry voice, and I simply nodded.

He led us to the bench to sit next to his bag. His hands gripped my hips, making me moan once again, and I started moving my hips against his, making him groan in return. "I fucking missed this pussy. I can't wait any longer," he said, licking his lips, and indeed, I could feel his rock-hard cock through his joggers rubbing against my panties.

He came to grasp my throat in his hand, kissing me more fiercely than before, making me moan in surprise. This time was different, less gentle than the first, but equally pleasing. I couldn't help but squirm and moan, craving to feel him inside me again. "Shhh," he said, separating our lips.

"I'm sorry, it's just that—" I began before feeling his grip on my ass strengthen.

"It's just that what?" he said with a smirk. "Don't be all shy with me ma; tell me, or I'll stop now," he added, removing his hands from my ass.

"No, don't!" I said in a heated sigh before guiding his hands back to where they were, and he smiled. "It's just that I really need you now," I said timidly, and he immediately kissed me again.

His hands left my ass to remove his joggers and boxers, lifting his hips slightly, pressing his erection even closer to me, causing another moan to escape my lips.

"Y/n, you really need to make less noise than that," he chuckled, readjusting himself.

"Sorry," I said, blushing and looking down at his sizeable member. Not to brag, but in my eyes, it was rather large, and I was afraid that without any foreplay, his entrance might be painful.

"I won't enter before stretching you a bit, baby, don't worry," he chuckled before bringing his hand between our bodies.

He slid my panties to the side before inserting a finger inside me while looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes.

I tried to stifle a moan when he immediately added a second finger, making me furrow my brows and cling to his shoulder. "You're so beautiful, y/n," he said, moving his fingers inside me.

And I couldn't help but move my hips back and forth, hoping to feel him even deeper inside me. "You're such a good girl; look at you riding my fingers like a needy slut," his words prompted another moan to escape my mouth.

His free hand came to surround his member as he started to stroke himself while watching me. "I want to do it," I said, wrapping my hand around him, and he smiled before starting to bend his fingers inside me.

I gradually quickened my hand movements around him, and he threw his head back. "N-no, Chris, look at me," I said, moaning and placing my free hand on his cheek.

"Fuck, I need to be inside of you right now," he said, removing his fingers from me to grab a condom from his bag.

In a few seconds, he opened the condom with his teeth, and I stopped stroking him so he could put it on.

He wasted no time in seizing me by the hips and aligning himself with my entrance. He took care to shift my panties to the side before applying pressure to my hips to enter in one swift motion. "Chris!" I almost screamed, burying my head in his neck.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait any longer, ma," he said, groaning and starting to guide my hips up and down.

"Oh my fuck," I said, moaning and throwing my head back.

He took advantage of the moment to bury his head in my neck and kiss me there. "Chris, I—" I said, moaning, and he quickened the movement, I gently pulled his hair. "This is so good; please don't stop."

"Y/n, someone might hear you; you need to stop moaning like that, shit-" he said, lifting his head towards me and grabbing my chin.

"I don't fucking care, Chris; it feels good. I need you to go faster, please," I said, driven solely by my desires at that moment, and he did what I asked, thrusting from below this time.

He grabbed my hips tightly and started giving me fast and deep thrusts. "Oh my god, yes, right there," I said, dropping my head forward.

"Fuck, y/n, shhh," he said, trying his best to hold back his own moans.

I felt like I had become completely dumb; the only thing I could think of at that moment was Chris inside me. The moans coming from me were out of control, so Chris pressed his hand against my mouth to prevent any sound from escaping.

"God, I wish I didn't have to cover your pretty little mouth right now," he whispered without stopping his thrusts.

My lower abdomen tightened as he began to massage my clit. My eyes rolled back, and my hand instinctively gripped Chris's throat, which seemed to shock him momentarily but didn't displease him, judging by the smile that appeared on his face.

I closed my eyes, feeling my orgasm approaching. With my other hand, I removed Chris's hand from my mouth to warn him, "Baby, I'm really close," I said, moaning.

"Me too, ma, let it go," he said through gritted teeth. I locked eyes with him, my mouth open, refraining from letting my moans escape. Chris's brows were furrowed, and he bit his lips to prevent any noise from escaping.

"Chris, oh my god!" I almost screamed, tightening my grip around his neck, letting my orgasm take over.

"Hold on a little longer; I'm almost there babe," he said, breathless, giving me animalistic thrusts before he, too, reached climax and stopped his movements completely.

I let my head fall against his chest with him still inside me, and we both began to chuckle. "I'm going to need a second shower," he said, laughing.

"Well, we don't have time. You'll take one at your place; I have to go home before my parents get worried." I told him, straightening up and placing my hands around his cheeks.

"Hmm," he simply hummed, caressing my ass and kissing me tenderly.

I stood up, readjusted my skirt and panties, while he disposed of the condom and got dressed on his end. "I'm good?" I asked, wanting him to tell me if I was disheveled or if my clothes were misplaced.

"Mhm," he said, nodding, and we both headed towards the exit.

He grabbed me by the arm to kiss me. "I love you, Chris," I said, breaking our kiss with a big smile.

"I love you, baby," he replied before I turned to open the door and stepped out.

I quickly descended from my little cloud when I opened the door and found myself face to face with Chris's coach, who crossed his arms.

"Y/f/n y/l/n! I wouldn't have expected to run into you here," he said, giving me a judgmental look before Chris came out right after. "Chris Sturniolo, what a surprise!"

I looked at Chris anxiously, hoping he could come up with a miracle solution. "Coach, it's not what you think—" he started before being interrupted.

"I don't want to hear anything. Both of you will explain yourselves to the principal tomorrow. Go home now," he responded.

Oh my god, this time I'm really in trouble...

Masterlist.

[hysteria-things]

CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE LITERALLY ANYTHING FOR NATE🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 (preferably smut) BUT IM LITERALLY BEGGING PLEASE (no rush💗💗 love ur work)

SINFUL DESIRES (part one)

read part two here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it feels like every day there’s a blowout between you and nate. however, something changes when all of a sudden he’s knocking at your bedroom window.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, teasing, some praise/degradation, pet names (pretty), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy!), stomach bulge, possessiveness, cream pie, ROUGHHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,172

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is low key toxic LMAO but it’s okay cause nate’s a cutie patootie.

thank you anon! hope you like it❤️

for some reason when i listened to this song it make me think of this fic, even though i would never picture him like this at all😭

tap tap tap.

“you cannot be fucking serious.” you curse softly, placing your phone on the bed as you get up and head over to the window.

it’s no secret that you hate nathan doe, and he hates you too.

your parents are close with his, but nate has always been a little shit.

ever since you two were kids, he’d pick on you. you’d understand that it was friendly banter since he’s, y’know; a boy. boys do that.

but it was never like that with him.

you unlock your window and open it, staring at the boy squatting on your roof. he’s in a t-shirt and gray sweats, his hair damp from showering.

“are you kidding right now, nate?”

“can i come in?” he asks, already making his way through your window.

you roll your eyes. “i mean, you already are.”

he stands in the middle of your room with his hands in his pockets, looking around. “what do you want?” you groan.

he snaps his head toward you. “what? can an old friend not visit?”

“you hate me.”

he raises his eyebrows and glances down your body. “i didn’t see you at the game today.”

“i’d rather die than go to a lacrosse match,” you say. you guys are standing across from each other, and it’s weirdly comforting. you two would be trying to fight right now, but even if you were you’d be too tired to.

“what do you want, nate?” you repeat, this time more harshly.

“why do you always have a fucking attitude?” he snaps.

there it is.

you scoff. “stop with this nice act. i shouldn’t have even let you in.”

“yet, you did!” he says with a high voice, taking his finger and pointing upward.

“fuck you.”

“you wish.”

you squint your eyes at the boy. you should’ve pushed him off of your roof when you had the chance.

“i’d watch that mouth if i were you, y/l/n.” he now points at you. “it can get you into big trouble.”

your next two words were meant to be in your head. “make m—”

in one stride, nate pulls you in by the throat and smashes his lips on yours. you would think you’d want to pull away but no. you kiss back with hunger.

he pushes you against your bedroom door, not breaking the kiss as he lifts the bottom of your band tee to push his fingers inside your underwear.

he pulls away to make eye contact with you as he starts to rub your embarrassingly wet clit with his fingers. he smirks when he realizes this is all from him.

you fight every fiber in your body to not give him the satisfaction of giving you pleasure. not even a lip bite or a buck of the hips, even though you want to.

so. fucking. bad.

he continues to rub at a decent pace. “why so quiet now? cats got your tongue, pretty?”

“don’t call me that, asshole.” you spit back. “i hate you.”

he chuckles under his breath. “seems like it.” he mocks.

the heaving of your chest gets faster when you feel the knot start to form in the pit of your stomach. you curl your hands into fists that are on your sides when you feel wetness drip down your inner thighs. nate scans your face until he figures out what just happened. “came already? my fingers weren’t even inside you. that’s a little pathetic, don’t you think?”

“shut. up,” you say through gritted teeth.

you look down at his sweats without thinking, seeing the imprint of his boner as clear as day. he leans to your ear and takes his hands out.

“feel how hard it is, pretty?” he jolts his hips into your clothed pussy. “it’s all because of you. i can never stop thinking about you, you know that? you’re engraved in my mind and i hate you for it. i always get off to what you’ll look like wrapped around my cock.”

your bottom lip quivers from his words. you don’t know what to say; the only thing you can think about is what you need. you need him.

he starts sucking a mark into your neck while untying his pants and pulling them past his thighs.

he lifts you, your legs dangling at his sides. he moves your panties to the side and starts to enter you slowly.

you pinch your lips together when you feel him all inside of you.

he groans at the feeling. “better than i’ve imagined.”

his thrusts start small but he gradually gets faster to the point where he pulls back and slams back in. you bite back your moan.

“so stubborn,” he whispers, taking your bottom lip out from your teeth with his thumb.

one thing to keep in mind is that your parents are sleeping just across the way, but you can’t seem to hold it in any longer.

don’t do it… don’t do it… don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoit.

“oh, god, nathan!” you cry out, immediately covering your mouth.

“there she is,” he says. he somehow makes himself go deeper.

“fuck, nate. fuck!” your noises are muffled by your hand.

you look over his shoulder at the window, realizing you never closed it. even though your room is on the second floor, people can still see and hear you.

nate turns his head to see where you are looking at and smirks. he takes your hand off of your mouth.

“don’t hide your sounds. i want everybody to know who makes you feel this good.”

you whimper and look down, seeing how he fills you from the bulge in your tummy with the movement of his thrusts. your mouth drops slightly at the sight. “see how well i fill you up, pretty? see how good you take my cock?”

you whimper again and grip his shoulders, dragging your nails down his upper back. “how long has it been since you’ve been fucked this good?”

“a l-long time.” you moan in pleasure as he hits that spot inside you. “right there, right there! please don’t stop.”

“whose is it, y/n?” he starts. “whose pussy is this?”

“y-yours, nate. it’s all yours.” you cry out. “i need to cum. please let me cum for you.”

you keep blabbing out nonsense as he fucks the living daylights out of you. “gonna cum inside this sweet cunt so you know it’s mine. you’re all mine, pretty. don’t ever forget it, yeah?”

“yes. yes!” you repeat. “i’m all yours. all yours, nathan.”

he kisses you as he spills every drop inside of you. you soon after gush around his dick, legs shaking and toes curling as you do so.

he sets you down and holds you by the waist so you don’t stumble over from all of the stimulation. he holds you in a tight hug and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

then, the light in the hallway flicks on and you hear footsteps.

“y/n!” your dad bellows. “what the fuck is going on in there?!”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby

[evermoresversion]

JAMES BEAUFORT'S MASTERLIST.

James Beaufort is the type of boyfriend who between classes would drag you into a lonely hallway with the excuse of wanting to kiss you because he "hasn't seen you in hours" even though it's only been an hour since he last saw you and he did the exact same thing.

James is the type of boyfriend who would love to see you in his clothes, especially his lacrosse team hoodie. He has even fantasized about fucking you with that same hoodie on.

James is the type of boyfriend who is protective but not possessive. Well, sometimes.

When a boy stares at you for longer than he should at parties or at Maxton Hall, he feel that feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

But without a doubt he likes to feel that feeling of being able to protect you, that you feel safe with him.

When you have a problem and you don't know how to solve it, no problem, James will take care of it, don't worry your pretty little mind, as he says.

If Cyril invites both of you to a party, and you don't feel like going at that time, he will stay with you to keep you company. Nothing is more important than his pretty girl.

Just know that James is all boyfriend material and will do whatever it takes to keep you protected and loved no matter what.

[sapphire-writes]

Just Friends ~ modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: You and Aemond are just friends.....right?

word count: 3.6k

note: a request for some friends to lovers 🩷

rating: Explicit (see more descriptive warnings under the cut)

warnings: fingering, titty sucking, slight praise, semi-public, language, alcohol use

A group project with Sara, Jace, and Aliandra was perfect. All three of you had chosen History of the First Men as an elective this term for that very reason. Professor Karstark was known for his heinous group project that ran the entire semester. The four of you were great friends already, so when Professor Karstark announced you’d be picking your own groups, your heart leaped with joy.

Until he mentioned needing groups of five. 

You had no choice but to add another person to your tight-knit group. Luckily, Jace’s cousin was also in the class. You’d seen him around campus before, but Aemond Targaryen often kept to himself. When he wasn’t studying in the library he could be found keeping his frat boy elder brother out of trouble.

The Targaryens shared a house on King’s Ave; a notorious strip of off-campus housing for those attending Westeros University. All four siblings attended currently, Daeron just starting his freshman year. You’d thought it was cute that they all lived together, and you’d told Aemond as much upon first meeting him.

After spending time together on the project, you and Aemond became fast friends. He now knew your coffee order by heart, often bringing you a steaming cup before class. You’d camp out with him in the library, show him new music, order your favorite takeaway and binge shows together. And when you couldn’t do that together, you’d be texting about it, like you were right now.

You giggle at your phone, and Ali lifts her head from her computer screen. 

You’d been in Jace’s apartment, waiting for him to return with coffee for your group to continue working on the project.

“Texting loverboy?” she teases, pulling her dark curls into a messy bun on top of her head. 

Sara walks into the room at that moment, a bowl of popcorn in her hands, her lips parting in shock.

“What did I miss?” she cries, hurrying forward. 

You place your phone down, rolling your eyes.

“Nothing! He’s just funny, that’s all,” you tell them, trying to ignore the blush you know is blooming on your cheeks. Maybe if you concentrate hard enough, it’ll go away.

“Nothing my ass,” Sara says with a smirk, “That boy is sooo into you.”

“Will you stop it,” you tell her, “We’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at friends the way Aemond looks at you,” Ali argues, as the door to the apartment opens.

You shush your two friends as Jace walks in, his younger brother Luke trailing behind him. Jace holds a tray of iced coffees in his hand, causing Sara to squeal and press a kiss to his cheek before taking one. 

“Sorry I’m late, had to pick Luke up from practice,” Jace says, throwing his bag down on the floor. 

“Sup ladies,” Luke says with a grin.

“You smell like a wet dog,” Sara accuses, wrinkling her nose.

“Lacrosse season, baby!” Luke says, holding his arms wide. You and Ali pretend to gag and he lowers them.

“You guys are mean,” he pouts, heading towards the bathroom. 

“Did you pick Aemond up too?” you ask, curious where the silver-haired boy is. Ali mouths the word subtle to you and you stick your tongue out. 

“Don’t think he’s coming,” Luke calls from the bathroom, “Looked pretty busy on his date!”

It’s like someone slapped you. Ali meets your eyes, her own wide with shock.

“Date?” you ask, mouth suddenly very dry.

“We don’t know-” Jace begins, but Luke cuts him off, running shirtless out of the bathroom.

“He was at Stormy’s,” Luke begins, referring to the local coffee shop, “In a corner booth. You don’t sit with just anyone in a corner booth.”

“Okay Mr. Never-Had-A-Girlfriend,” Jace scoffs, sitting on the couch.

“I know what’s up!” Luke insists, though the tips of his ears turn red, “You sit in the back corner, that way if you want to put your hand-”

“Ew ew ew!” Sara says, covering her ears as she sits next to Jace, “Future brother-in-law, I’m begging you to shut up!”

“I know what’s up!” Luke insists, again, “I do!”

“Go shower!” Jace tells him, tossing a pillow at him. Luke mumbles something under his breath before heading back down the hall toward the bathroom.

“Who was he with?” Ali asks, sparing you the embarrassment of asking. Jace is clueless about your innocent little crush.

“Maris Baratheon,” Jace tells you all. 

Shit. Maris Baratheon makes total sense. Another girl in your year who takes her studies very seriously, much like Aemond. It doesn’t ease your nerves knowing she’s stunning as well. Long dark curls, and sapphire blue eyes. It would only make sense that they get together.  

“There’s a party at the soccer house tomorrow night,” Jace says, suddenly changing the subject, “I think we should go.”

“I’m in,” you answer, causing Ali and Sara to exchange a look.

“Jacey boy!” Aegon says, throwing an arm around his nephew, “So glad you could make it.”

Jace pulls Aegon’s arm off of him as you enter the soccer house. The music is blasting through the speakers, some trashy remix of No Hands. Aegon hands you a cup which Sara snatches from your hands immediately. 

“First rule of uni, don’t accept a drink from Egg,” Sara says with a sneer. Aegon presses a hand to his chest pretending to be shocked.

“You’ve got me all wrong, love,” he teases, taking the cup back and taking a sip, “See? All clear.”

Sara takes it back, eying it suspiciously before taking a sip. You laugh and Aegon turns to you, a small smile on his face.

“My brother’s been waiting for you,” he tells you, fixing the backward baseball cap that rests on his head. 

Your stomach flip-flops, though you try to ignore it. Aegon hands you another drink, which you sip gratefully.

“Oh yeah?” you ask nonchalantly, and Aegon nods. 

“Haven’t seen you at the house in a while,” he says, as someone increases the volume of the music. 

“What?” you call but Aegon waves you off, before disappearing into the crowd. 

You take another sip from your drink, as Ali pulls you toward the center of the dancefloor. You don’t see Aemond, though Aegon said he must be here. You decide to spend some time dancing, trying to calm your nerves. You shouldn’t be feeling this way anyhow. Aemond is your friend.

Just friends.

You spot him across the room after a few songs play. He’s leaning against the doorframe talking to Cregan Stark. You can’t help the butterflies that fill your belly as he raises his eyes to meet yours. A soft smile appears on his handsome face at the sight of you, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up with attention. He looks good, though it's hard not to with that bone structure of his. Those pouty lips. 

“I’m going to go say hi!” you tell Ali, nodding towards Aemond.

She gives you a look of warning.

“You sure?” she asks and you nod, “Okay girl, I’ll be here!”

You move through the crowd of people making your way toward him. You smile politely at Cregan before hugging Aemond.

“Hey Aem,” you say, the scent of his cologne making you dizzy as you press your face against his firm chest.

“Hey,” he answers, the vibrations from his chest making you close your eyes. 

You wish you could just curl up with him here, leave the party and watch one of your shows together. You open your eyes. Can’t think like that, not if he’s seeing Maris. 

You pull away from him a little too quickly, the beer in your cup sloshing out the sides and onto your hand. You force a smile on your face.

“Where’s Maris?” you ask, making a point to look around.

“What?” Aemond asks with a chuckle.

“Maris! Your date!” you yell over the music. 

Aemond pouts, tilting his head to the side, confused at what you’ve just said.

“Maris is my mate!” Aemond calls over the pounding sound of the bass. 

You can barely hear him above the loud house music, the floor vibrates with how loud it is. The liquid in the red solo cup you hold wobblies, waves rippling across the surface. It’s so loud, you confuse about what Aemond has said, though you’re watching his lips carefully. 

“Maris is great!” is what you hear, causing your heart to drop slightly. 

You force a smile on your face, nodding at him. 

“I’m really happy for you two!” you yell back, taking a sip from the warming beer. Aemond’s eyebrows concave together in confusion and he shakes his head.

“Did you hear me?” he loudly asks, but of course, you can’t.

“What?” you yell, and Aemond sighs in frustration. 

Suddenly, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently directing you down the hallway. You let him guide you, careful not to spill your drink as you trail behind him. You catch Sara’s eye from across the room and she purses her lips at you. Whenever she does that you can’t help but think of Florence Pugh. 

He checks several doors until one to the bathroom opens, and pulls you inside with him. You enter the small space as he closes the door behind him. The music is muffled, making your ears ring as they adjust to the lower levels of sound. 

Aemond stands in front of the door momentarily, before moving further into the bathroom, as though not to make you uncomfortable by blocking it with his tall frame. You lean against the sink as he places one hand on his hip, dragging the other through his pale hair. 

“Why d’you think me and Maris are a thing?” he asks, faces scrunched in confusion. 

You can feel your heart beating frantically in your chest, and you try to ignore the nausea that churns in your stomach, the sour taste that fills your mouth at the thought of their date. 

“Um, Luke told me?” you tell him, as though it should be obvious, “Sorry if he put his foot in his mouth, but you were out in public! If you were trying to keep it on the low, you should’ve gone somewhere private.”

The corner of Aemond’s mouth ticks upwards into a slight smirk. 

“On the low?” he asks, standing up a little straighter. 

You place your cup on the edge of the sink. 

“Well, it sounds like you were surprised I knew,” you tell him, feeling your face flush. You hope Aemond can’t tell, and if he can, that he simply thinks it's because of your drinking, not the feelings you’re holding back. 

His eyes, blue and violet, roam your face, ceaselessly searching for any hint of jealousy or distaste. He’s been your friend for a while now, he can tell when you’re holding something in. 

“Maris and I are just mates,” he tells you so you can hear him this time, “She’s been thinking of studying in Oldtown next term. She wanted some advice.”

Your lips part, shocked at what he’s saying before you feel the fire return to your cheeks with a vengeance. Fucking Luke, starting drama for no reason. 

“Oh,” you say softly, curling your fingers against the lip of the counter, “Oh that makes sense.”

“Yeah, it does,” Aemond says, with a chuckle. He clears his throat suddenly, averting his eyes, “I um..sort of have a thing for someone else anyway.”

“Oh,” you repeat, “That’s cool.”

“But I’m kind of…nervous,” he admits, meeting your eyes once more, “I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have. But I can’t really ignore how I feel.”

You hold his gaze. He can’t be talking about you. Can he? 

“What should I do?” Aemond asks, “What do you think?”

“I think…well..” you nervously wet your lips, “I think….you should tell her.”

Aemond takes a step closer, placing one hand on the sink next to yours. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, his tall frame leaning towards you.

“Yeah?” he says in a gruff voice, “You really think so?”

You nod, and he brings his opposite hand to rest on the counter on the other side of you, caging you against it with his lean form. He’s so close you can almost feel his body pressing against you. You can smell his cologne, as he leans his face closer to your height. 

“I think you might be pleasantly surprised,” you tell him. 

Aemond’s eyes widen slightly before they fall to your lips. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you bring your lips to his, kissing him gently. You pull away for a moment, gauging his reaction, but Aemond chases your lips with his own, capturing them in another kiss. His hands slide along the counter, finding purchase on your hips. He lets them rest there a moment, squeezing your hip bones before lifting underneath your ass to place you on the counter. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss with a slight turn of your head as Aemond strokes the sides of your thighs. You can feel your arousal pooling in your underwear, and you clench your thighs together to no avail. 

Aemond’s hands caress the skin of your hips that was exposed as your tank top rides up. His hands dance to your belt and you drop your hands to begin unbuckling it. Aemond’s eyes drop to your quickly working hands. 

“Holy fuck… can I?” Aemond says between a kiss, “Can I touch you, please?”

“Yes, please, fuck,” you nearly beg while unbuttoning your jeans, “Please touch me Aemond.”

You slide the zipper down and feel Aemond’s hands on yours, hastily moving them out of the way. You wrap them around his neck as his slender fingers dip below the hem of the lacey thong you’d decided to wear. Sara has a very strict policy on party panties and demanded you wear your sexiest set. 

“Just in case,” she’d told you with a wink.

You could kiss her, with the expression on Aemond’s face as he looks between your legs.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whimpers, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles around your clit.

You bite your lip, holding back a whimper of your own as he dips his fingers lower, gathering your arousal on his fingertips before going back to circling your clit. 

“Fuck-” you cry out as he lowers his palm, slipping a finger inside your clenching hole. Aemond swallows your cry with a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

He experimentally curls the long digit against your walls, preening with the sounds this elicits from you, and the way you claw at the back of his neck. His cock is straining against the confines of his jeans, but he can’t find it in him to care at the moment; completely focused on your pleasure. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you hungrily. 

“Me too,” you whine, sucking on his lower lip. 

Aemond pulls away slightly, a half smile decorating his face.

“How long?” he asks, a second finger teasing at your entrance ready to join the first. You buck your hips, desperate for him to fill you up. 

“Since game night at Baela’s,” you gasp, as he sinks the second digit into your tight, wet heat. 

“I remember. You’re such a sore loser,” Aemond teases, curling his fingers against the rough patch of your walls that has you seeing stars.

Your head lolls, tapping against the mirror before Aemond brings his free hand to rest on the back of your neck, propping your head up.

“I’ve liked you, ever since you met Vhagar,” he tells you, letting his hand trail from the back of your neck to your shoulder.

Warmth floods your chest at the memory. It was one of the first times you’d hung out with Aemond actually. You’d come to the house after class and met the grumpy old tabby cat. Aemond had been thoroughly impressed at how you were able to coax her from her hiding place under the sofa.

She’d only hissed at you once, before sniffing the tips of your fingers and rubbing her head against them.

Aemond brings his thumb to rest on your clit, circling the button in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers, tearing you from the memory and bringing you back to the present. The added clit stimulation has you clenching around his fingers, the small bathroom filling with the squelching sounds of your soaked pussy. 

Your lower abdomen tenses, and you can feel the precipice of your orgasm creeping up on you, tingling up your spine. 

“God you’re so tight,” Aemond moans, and you grab the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging harshly. 

A whine leaves his lips as you do so, and you bring your lips to kiss his neck, sucking a purple lovebite onto the pale flesh. Aemond’s breathing is ragged as you do so, his fingers tugging at the spaghetti straps of your top, pulling it down to reveal your matching lace bralette. Aemond quickly works the front clip, letting your breasts spill free. Your nipples harden in the cool air.

He eyes them hungrily, as you pull away from kissing his neck, connecting your lips once more. Aemond’s hand moves to the side of your left breast, massaging the soft mound, just as someone knocks on the bathroom door. Aemond breaks away from your lips. 

“Just a second!” Aemond yells, before latching his mouth to your tender nipple and suckling harshly. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him against you as he swirls his hot tongue around the sensitive nub. Legs locked around his slender waist, you pull him closer to you, arching your back to press yourself harder against his mouth, against his fingers. 

“Aemond?” Aegon’s voice calls from outside the bathroom. The door handle jiggles. “You bastard open up!” 

Aemond releases your breast with a wet pop, dragging his lips up toward your neck to kiss the sensitive spot beneath your ear. His fingers never stop curling into you, the pads of his fingers dragging against your sweet spot while his thumb plays with your clit. He drags his teeth along your earlobe, biting down as Aegon knocks again.

“I have to piss!” Aegon yells, banging on the door causing it to shake on its hinges.

“He said just a second!” you snap, voice several pitches higher than normal as Aemond tugs harshly your slippery, wet nipple. 

“The fuck?” Aegon’s angry tone turns to one of confusion, “Yo is that Y/N?”

Aemond’s fingers slow as he pulls away from your neck, his hand still gripping your breast. The actions cause your imminent orgasm to begin to fizzle out and you whine in annoyance. You were so close. 

Aemond’s eyes meet yours, pupils dilated as yours must be. His jaw is slack, face flushed as Aegon laughs from outside the bathroom.

“I didn’t know you had it in you!” Aegon calls, “That’s my bro, finally getting the girl! Sara is going to lose her shit when she knows I found out first!”

You stifle a laugh, bringing your hand to cover your mouth at Aegon’s words. Aemond’s cheeks are red as he smiles bashfully, as though he’s not knuckle-deep in your pussy at the moment. 

“Have fun you lovebirds, I’ll piss outside,” Aegon calls, giving a final rapid fire of knocking before presumably leaving the door. 

“Do you think he’s really gone?” you ask through a giggle.

“Honestly, I don’t even care,” Aemond says, kissing you once more and resuming the movement of his fingers thrusting and curling in and out.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” you cry, as Aemond works you towards orgasm once more. Your legs shake around him and he brings his mouth to your opposite breast, lavishing it with the same attention he did the other. 

“Take my fingers so fucking well,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your breast, “Bet you’ll take my cock perfectly.”

“Yes-fuck yes!” you cry, nails digging into his shoulder blades through the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

You can feel how hard he is, how big his cock is concealed under his jeans. Your mouth waters at the thought of it replacing his fingers, pussy tightly clenching around him. Aemond feels you tighten, a smug smile creeping onto his face.

“You like that idea? Want me to fill you with my cock?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you whine, looking up at him through your lashes, “Please I need it so bad.”

“You’ll get it, pretty girl,” he promises, “Come for me, darling, that’s it.”

“Oh oh- oh!”

With a strangled cry your orgasm crashes over you as you clench around his fingers. A rush of arousal drips down his fingers and between your thighs as he fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure. As you come down from your high, Aemond’s mouth is on yours in another passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth, whimpering at the overstimulation. 

Your hands drop to his belt and he chuckles, placing kisses down your neck.

“Can we go back to mine?” he asks, as you attempt to do the first loop. You pause looking up at him. 

“I’d love to,” you tell him, as he kisses you again. 

You spend the next several minutes reclipping your bra and fixing yourselves before opening the door. Aegon nearly falls on top of you both as he tries to pretend he wasn’t listening. Aemond smacks him on the shoulder as he tries to run away. 

“Couldn’t hear anything over this fucking music!” Aegon calls, as he smiles cheekily and disappears down the hall. 

Covering your face with embarrassment, Aemond loops his arm around you, placing a kiss on top of your head and leading you out of the party.

note: hope you liked it!!

[buzzcutlip]

( this is carmenberzattosgf on my main!!)

Time for a horny request 🚶‍♀️I’ve been thinking HEAVILY on a fwb situation with lip while in college 🧎🏼‍♀️ and when he hears you went out with some frat bro he gets so jealous and it’s a “I can fuck you better than him” type of situation

You know I love Lip! This one is for you, Olive 💌

Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader Explicit 800+ words

Never in a million years would you guess that Lip Gallagher is into you. He’s annoying, cocky, loud, and probably a borderline alcoholic and criminal—exactly the type of guy your parents warned you about. That’s why you find him so attractive. Secretly.

He likes the bad boy reputation, and you know him well enough to know that it’s mostly an act. You’ve had a soft spot for each other ever since the first year. He would help you with trigonometry, and in return, you would pick him up when drunk in faraway bars. The friends-with-benefits situation is another level to your friendship.

Lip’s room is dark when you stumble in, and he instantly pushes you toward the bed, tackling you down into the sheets. They smell and feel fresh.

Your puffer jacket disappears with remarkable speed, as well as your cardigan. Lip’s quick and efficient when he’s getting you out of your clothes, like always. He just seems a tad more frantic tonight.

“Hey,” you try to slow him down when he’s attempting to get his hand in your panties without unbuttoning your skinny jeans. “What’s gotten into you?”

Lip only looks up when you tug at the collar of his shirt.

“The captain of the lacrosse team, really?” he says, and suddenly everything makes sense.

You throw your head back as you laugh. “I didn’t know we were exclusive.”

Lip bites at your bare neck, hard and mean, and you frown. “Yeah—but I’m still the best.”

You roll your eyes and pout, staying quiet as Lip gets up and switches the light on. Even if you wanted to be shy, there’s no option like that with Lip—he wants to see you and everything when you fuck.

---

The third time Lip tries to kiss you, your hand springs up, getting a good grip on his chin. “No kissing,” you hiss, eyes narrowed.

Lip has his long fingers inside you, reaching for your G-spot for the past twenty minutes, teasing you meanly. Every time he brushes the spongy bit of flesh, you tense, feeling like you might come at that moment. Or pee yourself; the sensations are so similar yet different that you can hardly tell them apart. But Lip withdraws his fingers, leaving you empty and wanting. Because Lip promised he would fuck you so good that you will never want anyone else. His words, not yours.

“If you want to occupy my mouth, then let me blow you,” you say crudely, knowing it won’t shock someone like Lip Gallagher.

“This is about you,” he reminds you seriously, then smirks.

It’s always like that with Lip—an easy banter, joking and silliness until it turns to desperation and passion and need. You never catch the exact moment of the transition.

Lip takes his sticky fingers out and pushes your top up, revealing your belly and bra.

“Did he take the time to touch you like this? To touch your tits?” Fuck. You arch into his mouth as soon as Lip pulls your snug sports bra above your breasts, freeing them. He knows how sensitive they are, how crazy you get when he pays attention to them.

You moan in approval as he starts licking the soft flesh, pulling on one of your nipples with those wet fingers. Wet from you.

“If—if this is about me—” you get out, voice breathy and hoarse, “—would you please fuck me already?”

Lip keeps massaging your tits, kissing and biting all over them, and grinds his groin against yours. He’s still wearing his jeans and the denim drags roughly against your naked center. You’re not very far away from begging.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Lip taunts you from somewhere between your knees, obviously needing to dominate the moment. You must be louder than you thought. Usually, with Lip, you try to stay pretty quiet. The grip you have on his hair tightens minutely, and Lip groans.

It’s not often that you fuck missionary—your aversion, not his. The problem—the good problem—with Lip is that his dick is the perfect shape for your vagina, or something, and when you have sex face to face, laying down, the head of his cock hits perfectly the right places within you. So usually, when you don’t want to come in the first three minutes, you have to really concentrate.

He doesn’t let you have your way tonight. “I wanna see you.”

You try to wriggle from underneath him, but Lip holds you fast. “Lip,” you grunt, pouting.

“I wanna see your face when you come. When I make you come.”

You blush, hard. You’re not surprised to hear Lip’s dirty talk. You’re surprised that it affects you this much. Maybe there's more at stake here than just another night of physical connection.

“I’ll make it so good,” he babbles while putting a condom on.

And he does. Makes it so, so good.

[perseephoneee]

ice skating [ficmas day 7] [isaac lahey x reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

anonymous: I saw your post about ficmas 24. can you please write smth with Isaac and ice skating?

author's note: i went ice skating with @muffinbeliever and it was so terrifying all i did was almost cry

playlist:

the moon will sing -- the crane wives

i'll be home for christmas -- she & him

gold rush -- taylor swift

Beacon Hills officially had a high school hockey team.

You don’t remember when Coach Finstock lost his mind, but you assume it’s been a long time coming. It’s the only explanation for why he thinks this would be a good idea.

Especially since his ‘hockey team’ is just his lacrosse team on skates. Many of them can’t even skate. You’re unsure how he coerced the team to even participate. 

“This is painful,” Allison commented, and you had to agree. You both accompanied Scott and Stiles to hockey practice, Allison to see her boyfriend, and you to get a free ride. You still didn’t have a car (you hoped to fix that soon).

You watched Stiles fall face first.

“It’s pretty awful,” you hissed, watching another teammate crash into the wall. “I kinda want popcorn.”

“Me too.”

You both were heathens.

Danny was reasonably competent and would be very solid with a few more practices. The other surprising one was Isaac, who was skating laps around everyone. Scott wasn’t falling, but he wasn’t confident either. Werewolf instincts meant jack shit in the face of skating.

“Did he just do a little hop and a skip?” You remarked as you watched Isaac. You couldn’t help but watch Isaac. He was aloof and not amazing at conversations, but he was alluring. Maybe it was the jawline or his eyes. You were unsure. Sometimes, he’d take Scott’s bike to school when Scott rode with Stiles, and sometimes, he’d drive you home. Those were your favorite days.

“He’s ridiculous,” Allison chuckled as Isaac continued to show off. He and Danny were playing their own game of hockey at this point. You didn’t want to look at what Stiles was doing; it made you sad. Allison turned to you. “Ten bucks says Stiles, knocking over Scott.”

“You’re on, Argent.”

You were $10 richer by the end of practice, in large part thanks to the fact that a conga line of lacrosse-turned-hockey players took out Scott, who then wiped out Stiles. It was inherently painful but insanely funny. At least the ice rink had concessions. You were sipping a blue slushie when the boys came out, broken and battered.

“I want to be eaten by a wolf,” Stiles sighed. A bruise was forming on his arm. 

“Sure, but it’s not going to remedy the fact you can’t skate,” you chuckled. He glared at you.

“You’re not funny.”

You sipped your slushie, hiding your laugh. Isaac came out a few seconds later. His hair was slightly damp, and it looked like he had run through the rain. It was way too sexy and made your stomach turn. He waved in greeting.

“What flavor?” He inquired, pointing to your cup. You stuck out your tongue to show the blue dye. He just nodded. 

“Isaac, can you take Y/N home? Allison and I were heading to Stiles,” Scott asks, tossing his keys to the beta. He catches them quickly. Isaac nods, not bothered, but it doesn’t stop you from worrying you were a burden. Not that he’d ever tell you that you were. 

The night air was crisp as you climbed behind him on the bike. He always gave you the helmet, even though you should both have them. He argued he could heal. You couldn’t fault his logic. 

You were on your way a little later, arms tight around his middle as you savored the few moments you could pretend to be his.

Isaac started to slow down, and you lifted your head to ask why, but he shushed you. You slowed to an idle, barely fast enough to stay up. His proverbial wolf ears perked up. He decided a split second later, quickly swinging the bike around and taking off much quicker than before. 

You yelped as you gripped him tighter. You could hear engines behind you, which did not bode well. He went off-road, starting to serve through side streets in a way that made you nauseous. A shot rang out.

You had nowhere to hide as more bullets were fired. Isaac quickly turned, the bike screeching. He launched you both off of it, covering your body with his as the asphalt cut into your skin. You wanted to cry out but didn’t. Not when you were more concerned about finding safety. Isaac gripped your hand, dragging you to the backdoor of a building. He tore off the handle and shoved you in.

The alcove was small, and you pressed up against him as he looked out the window, watching your pursuers run by. A few seconds later, you both let out long breaths. 

Isaac relaxed against the wall, grimacing. That’s when you noticed the patch of blood blooming from his flank. You stifled a screech.

“Isaac—“

“Is there first aid?” He coughed, looking around the room you were in. It was the kitchen of a diner. You went through five cabinets before finding first aid. It wasn’t much, but you made do. You were too distracted by his wound to process his shirtlessness.

The bullet wasn’t deep, or maybe it had been, and his healing pushed it out. You weren’t sure. Your minimal nursing skills came in handy as you bandaged him up. He might be able to survive, but it wasn’t painless. 

When you were done, you made him swallow some ibuprofen. Your hands wrapped gauze around his middle, hiding an obnoxiously sculpted chest from you. Fucking werewolves.

Isaac’s eyes traced your face, a frown marring his expression. He traced your arm with a finger, and you hissed in pain as he found the fracture that you had been trying to hide. He was on you in a second.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“My wound isn’t bad like yours,” you protested. Isaac took his discarded shirt and tore it into cotton strips. He fashioned a makeshift cast for you before cleaning up your arm. You realized it was the most tender moment the two of you have had. He took some cotton balls and wiped some blood off your temple. 

“I didn’t know you could skate,” you murmured, breaking the silence. Isaac’s mouth quirked up. 

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Kind of,” you tried to shrug, but it just hurt your arm. 

“My brother was a hockey fan. He’d take me to the rink,” Isaac answered, applying a small bandaid. He never talked about his brother; you didn’t want to push. “Derek mentioned there might be some bounty hunters. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“It’s fine, Isaac. Really.”

“You should come back to see Melissa for that arm,” Isaac moved to put his shirt back on, and you bit back disappointment. He glanced outside and, feeling safe, led you both out and back to the bike. It was scraped up but still worked. Isaac put you on the front of the bike since his torso was still healing. He wrapped his arms around you to grab the handles, and you couldn’t help but inhale his smell of petrichor and pine. You wanted to lean into him and never leave. 

You could’ve fallen asleep like this, even with the wind biting into your skin. Fortunately (for your sanity), you pulled up the McCall residence no longer after. Isaac helped you off the bike and led you up to the front door. 

You’ve been to the McCall residence a few times, and each time were struck by how much warmth Melissa had managed to infuse into the place. She came out of the living room when you both entered.

“What the hell happened?” she inquired, coming to you first. 

“Bounty hunters,” Isaac said matter-of-factly. 

“Why do I let any of you outside,” Melissa mumbled. She took you to the bathroom to take a look at your arm. You were happy to hear that your arm wasn’t broken, but there was lightly a fixture that needed to be watched. She gave you pain meds and redid your cast. 

“Do you think I could stay here tonight?” you asked, adjusting your arm in its cast. “I just don’t feel like going home right now.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Melissa smiled, kissing your head. She felt like your other Mom. 

She gave you some of her pajamas and a toothbrush so you could get ready for bed. You were thankful she was there to help you maneuver out of your clothes so you could put on the pajamas. You tried not to think much about Isaac in the next room. When you were all done cleaning up, you went to the living room to get situated on the couch but found Isaac already lying there on his phone. He had also changed into sleepwear. 

“I was going to sleep here,” you stated. He glanced up at you, jawline and all. You really needed to get your priorities straight. 

“You should take my room; it’ll be more comfortable.”

“You got shot.”

“I’m already almost healed, and you’re in a cast,” Isaac pointed out. “Trust me, you’ll want a bed.” You didn’t ask if it was a sports injury that let him know that or something his Dad inflicted. Isaac, when he wanted to be, could be frustratingly stubborn. You took your leave to his room.

You had never been in Isaac’s room, and you took the opportunity to do some high-level snooping. No judgment; you weren’t perfect. There wasn’t much snooping to do, though. The room had minimal decorations. There was a ball poster that was so utterly stupid you had to hide your laughter. There was also a snoopy ornament on his desk. That fact made you smile. 

Sleeping in Isaac’s room was already going to be a bad idea. The sheets smelled like him. The room felt like him. You were one delirious episode away from stealing his shirts and pretending like you were waking up next to him. You would call Allison and freak out, but that would involve admitting that you found the beta wolf attractive. 

The pain meds plus Isaac’s bed made your insomnia take a back seat, allowing you to fall asleep. You woke up in time for school, only because Scott is one of the loudest people you had ever known. He stumbled into everything and slammed open every door. 

You got dressed in your clothes from yesterday and made Isaac’s bed. You brought the folded pajamas downstairs. Isaac and Scott ate all the pantry food while Melissa downed a cup of coffee before her shift. 

“Thanks for letting me stay, Ms. McCall,” you smiled, voice quiet.

“Nonsense, you’re always welcome. I’d offer you breakfast, but I think they ate it all,” Melissa nodded towards the two boys. You stifled a smile as she rummaged through the pantry again. “Actually, I found an apple. And peanut butter.”

“That’s usually what I have,” you shrugged, taking the granny smith from her and finding a cutting board. You ate your breakfast and sipped some coffee with milk while observing everyone run around the kitchen. You grabbed Isaac’s sleeve right before leaving the kitchen. “Thanks for letting me use your room,” you muttered. “And for yesterday.”

“No problem,” he shrugged. He paused, shifting his feet. “Have you ever skated before?”

You shook your head.

“I could teach you…after hockey practice.”

“In case I get shot on the ice?”

“Yes, for that,” Isaac smiled. You felt your heart drop into your stomach, butterflies filling the now-empty cavity. You don’t know what Hallmark movie you were in, but you liked it. 

School couldn’t go by fast enough. You had to come up with a plausible excuse for your arm around teachers, but the pack immediately jumped on the case. Stiles was itching for some snooping work, and you think you just gave him a good reason to break into his Dad’s safe again. You made a mental reminder to send an apology to Sheriff Stilinski. 

You told Allison about your night over lunch.

“You have a date with Isaac Lahey,” Allison gushed, passing you a potato chip.

“I do not,” you responded, mouth full of crunch. “He probably just feels bad about me getting hurt and just is trying to make up for it.”

“So he could buy you lunch, give you rides to and from school,” Allison responded. “Not take you ice skating, just the two of you. It’s a Hallmark movie.”

You put an apple slice in her mouth before she could say anything else. 

“I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“That’s fine,” Allison chewed, the words garbled from the bite. “I’ll get my hopes up for you.”

Allison accompanied you to hockey practice, but not before giving you some of her clothes and lipgloss. While you grumbled, you were thankful not to be wearing the same clothes you got shot at. The sweater she lent you was soft, and the leggings were comfortable and stretchy. Perfect to fall on your ass in. 

Hockey went as well today as yesterday. Danny and Isaac continued to have a squirmish of their own while the other players tried to remember what a skate was. A few of them were getting better; you could see a small team starting to form. None of the players getting better were Scott and Stiles. Scott’s werewolf reflexes did not translate to the ice. 

“Werewolves on ice, coming to a theater near you,” you mumbled. Allison was hiding her eyes at their skating. You were fighting the urge to do the same. Fortunately, your torture came to a halt as Coach fell on the ice and canceled the rest of practice out of anger. You waited till everyone was gone to bother approaching the rink, the feeling of drums in your heart matching each step. Isaac skated around the rink and came to a stop by the entrance. 

“I want you to know I’ve never skated, and I’m very, very scared,” you gulped, your healthy arm holding your fractured one against your chest. Isaac smirked.

“I won’t let you fall.”

Your fingers shook when you went to grab rental skates and even more so when you put them on. You had to do a sort of waddle across the padded floors to the entrance, and you looked at the ice like it was the deep ocean. Unknown and utterly horrifying. 

“You won’t get hurt, I promise,” Isaac chuckled, holding out his hand. You stared at it. 

“What if I trip and pull you down?”

“You won’t.”

“I’m very good at hurting other people,” you whispered. Isaac skated closer to you, a towering figure. He grabbed your hands, unclenching your fingers. Your breath caught as he pulled you onto the ice. It was slippery, and you didn’t like how your feet slid across it. Isaac held you steady, correcting your weight if you started to wobble. He skated backward, going slow as you tried your best to calm your breathing. 

“Look at me, don’t look at your feet,” he said. You looked at him, his gaze intense, and you forced yourself to not break. You listened to his every instruction, bending your knees slightly, pushing out instead of forward, until you started to feel somewhat more solid. Isaac noticed when you began to relax more. “Do you trust me?”

“No,” you answered, still not trusting of the ice hell you were in. Isaac laughed. 

“I won’t let you go,” he muttered before doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t. He let one of your hands go, twirling you. You stifled a scream as your feet slid across the ice, but he kept his initial promise and didn’t let you fall. He pulled you back into him, closer than before. You stumbled and fell into his chest; he skated you both to a stop. You tried to push back before you made the situation more awkward, but he kept you close, his hands on your back. 

You kissed your teeth. 

“I’m terrible at skating,” you murmured. You felt the vibrations of Isaac’s laugh. 

“That’s okay,” he smiled, that crooked half-smile you often long for. You tilted your head up, Isaac’s nose nudging yours. Your body felt hot, even in the cold room. Still, you shivered from his touches, proximity, and everything. He looked at you through his lashes, his eyes the color of sea foam and lakesides. Your eyes fluttered closed when he brushed his lips over yours. It wasn’t enough, so you pushed closer. His mouth was firm, and you wished you could go on your toes to get closer. The only thing keeping you stable was Isaac. His hands roamed your sides, your neck, everywhere he could hold. He deepened the kiss, and you sighed. It was too soon when he pulled away, even as you realized you forgot to breathe. 

“Do you still want to skate?” he murmured.

“Will you kiss me if I fall and embarrass myself?”

“I’ll kiss you even if you do a good job.”

“Then I most definitely still want to skate,” you grinned. 

You did fall later on, but you weren’t in pain. Isaac was able to catch you. 

taglist: @alice3612 @rafecameronswhore @evasmlp @awnmaknees

[star--stilinski]

wow, you're so fucked.

stiles is standing next to you, a sweaty beacon of pride as he chats with scott and isaac excitedly, his lacrosse uniform still on and not making things any easier for you.

he had just played a game and won. something unusual for him, clear in the way he seems to glow a bit at the attention he's receiving. you can admit that he did better than his regular performances, which often included him sitting idly by on the bench. but you really don't need to deal with this. rambling, hyper focused stiles is one thing.

sweaty, cocky stiles is another.

he laughs at something danny says-oh, danny's here? you didn't even notice him approach, too distracted with the way stiles' hair sticks to his forehead. anyway, his laugh might make you swoon. jesus, are you ovulating? there's a wet patch forming in your panties and you know it. whore.

"oh, yes! we will so be there!" stiles slings an arm over your shoulder and grins at danny. you can smell his sweat, now, and unfortunately stiles' musk only makes you want to ride his dick even more.

"be where?" you blink, turning a curious gaze on stiles, who looks at you all confused and cute and his lips are so pink and his skin glistens with sweat and i bet the rest of him does, too-

"are you okay?" he hums, squeezing you against his side just slightly. you nod and turn to danny to avoid moaning at the sight of stiles' adams apple.

"sorry, i was zoned out."

danny looks like he's disappointed in you. because of-fucking-course danny māhealani can tell that you're this close to giving stiles a blowjob in front of the entire student body. just because he's sweaty and excited and prideful. you glare at danny, just to shut him up.

he talks anyway.

"some of us were gonna go grab food to celebrate, and i was just inviting you guys. unless you'll be... busy." danny drawls his last words with clear implication, but stiles is too busy being excited that he got invited to something by the "in" crowd to notice.

"and i told him we were going." stiles grins down at you, raising his eyebrows in anticipation. you avoid his eyes, tilting your head.

"i dunno..." you pick at your nails, and stiles is quick to stop you. a habit you both have and you're both trying to quit. "it's kinda late, and we have that essay-"

"oh, come on, don't tell me you're passing this up for homework." stiles tosses his head back dramatically and you hear danny snicker. you know if you look at danny again, you'll want to throttle him. but looking at stiles means looking at his moles and freckles, his jawline, his brow.

you swallow thickly.

"yeah, okay, shut up. i was gonna say yes." you fold so quick that stiles actually steps back from you in shock, and you avoid grabbing him by the jersey to keep his scent all over you.

danny smirks at you, nodding once. "see you guys there. try not to fog up the windows on the way."

stiles waves as danny leaves, and you're pretty confident he didn't even hear that last part because of how focused he is on being overdramatic about you saying yes to him so easily. his eyes are wide and his mouth is open when you turn to look at him, and he let's out a squeaky surprised noise.

"what-you always argue about this stuff! did you have some moment of discovery?!" he grabs both your shoulders and you fight a smile, shrugging him off. you can't just tell the boy, 'oh, it's a whole lot harder to say no to you when all i can think about is how far i would go to get you in my pants.'

right?

you settle for an easy half-truth. "just didn't wanna dampen your good mood. you're practically bouncing off the bleachers right now."

when you look back at stiles, he has that stupid crooked smile cocked all smartly at you. feeling bold, he gives your hip a light squeeze and hums, "atta girl."

yeah, you are so incredibly fucked.

☆

this is my most popular from the vault!! it's also one of the first things i published here. stay tuned for more vault releases and an upcoming thomas fic :D

this anon made me giggle so here's a snippet of pt. 2 (its a joke dont get your hopes up)