#stiles stilinksi smut

[star--stilinski]

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

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

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

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

stiles' adams apple, and that's it.

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

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

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

[bethsvrse]

STOP MAKING MY LIL AWKWARD NERDY BOYS BE CONFIDENT AND SO SURE OF THEMSELVES!!! I LIKE THEM BECAUSE THEY’RE NERDY NOT BECAUSE YOU FANFIC WRITERS MAKE THEM EGO MANIC ASSHOLES

[sundrop-writes]

BRAINWASHED

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Everything’s clean - except for my thoughts. (Thinking about me getting you off.)

Can’t stop thinking you got me B R A I N W A S H E D .

Summary:

Stiles likes you. He really, really, really likes you. It's bordering on obsession, but he likes to believe that he has it under control.

So when you accidentally leave a pair of your panties in his presence, ripe for the taking, and they're in his backpack faster than he can blink - he realizes that he might not have it as under control as he would like to think. But he can't find it to be too much of a problem when he has those panties wrapped around his cock.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Pining!Stiles/One Sided Fantasies. Panty Stealing. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 8,000

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

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

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and is described as having a vagina; Stiles and the reader have been best friends since childhood and they are in high school now (they are both the same age) (for argument's sake, they are both 18, but the horny parts were motivated by the hotness of a 20-something actor so idc what age you interpret the characters as); the reader's looks are mostly undescribed and left neutral in terms of race, hair texture/colour, height, etc. however the reader is implied to be fat/plus sized; mentions of the reader wearing dresses and tights (things that the other characters on the show would typically wear); mentions of the reader having a cat - I did not give the cat a name so you can imagine it's the same as your cat's name/what you would want your cat to be called if you had one; use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); brief mention that the reader would like wearing bikinis; the reader calls Stiles 'good boy' in non-sexual contexts and it turns him on; mentions of Stiles looking up the reader's skirt when she doesn't know it; some slight dubious consent because Stiles steals the reader's underwear without her consent and uses them in a sexual act (his masturbation); masturbation (Stiles touching himself); this is a one-sided/pining fic - all the sexual acts take place inside Stiles's mind as sexual fantasies while he masturbates; the reader character is described in these sexual acts as they play out in his mind, so that's why she is included heavily in the warnings; Stiles is submissive (even in his own fantasies) and he fantasies about the reader being dominant toward him; Stiles becoming aroused by the idea of the reader not shaving her pussy; technically there is edging - because Stiles edges himself to make his fantasies last longer; panty sniffing (though the panties Stiles took are freshly launder and not used ones); scent kink/sweat kink - Stiles likes the way you smell, including your sweat; kinks and sexual acts mentioned only in Stiles's fantasies (taking place only in his mind in this fic): car sex (in the back of the Jeep (typical, I know)), fingering (reader receiving), degradation kink (Stiles receiving - he likes the idea of the reader insulting him and being mean to him); pussy eating (Stiles fantasizes in depth about this); Reader makes a joke about spanking Stiles and Stiles has a small fantasy about being spanked by her; I think that's finally it.

A/N: Title for the fic comes from the song Brainwashed by Waterparks. Warning - Stiles might be a bit OOC in this because I wrote it before I started re-watching Teen Wolf again (and before I started watching Season 1 for the first time, because previously I had only seen 3B and beyond). In this, I have said that he's flunking classes and he's not really great with studying, while in the show, he's really smart and bookish and really well studied - but it could just be chalked up to the fact that he has a huge crush on the Reader that is distracting him from studying. So, interpret it how you want. I hope that you enjoy it, and please read through to my end notes to find out about a potential sequel to the fic!!

...

Stiles was hopeless. 

That was the only way to describe his current state of being. Completely, utterly hopeless. 

He was a complete and total loser, hopelessly in love with his best friend. And he was getting more stupidly caught up in that crush every single day. And of course, he didn’t even have the courage to admit his feelings for you so that it could be awkwardly out in the open. So that the two of you could get the rejection part over with, at least. 

Basically - his feelings for you were slowly ruining his life. 

Stiles had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Well, maybe not that long. 

See, you, him, and Scott had all been friends since the beginning of kindergarten, and naturally, Stiles always liked you as a person. He always thought of you as a good friend, even if he gravitated toward Scott more.  

But he distinctly remembered the first moment when he had started to develop a crush on you. It was a very special memory to him - the day when you shifted in his eyes from annoying, slightly nagging friend to a beautiful, fierce woman. 

It was the day when the three of you were out on Halloween night during the third grade - and that was around the time people started whispering about crushes in school, when people would have playground girlfriends and boyfriends that they broke up with every other week. That night, a group of eighth grade bullies began chasing the three of you, trying to take your candy. 

Without hesitation, you picked up the largest rock in sight and threw it at one of them, causing a large cut across his forehead - and you loudly told them to ‘fuck off’ (the first time Stiles had ever heard such a word when it wasn’t coming from his dad). They had run away, somehow terrified of a girl a foot shorter than them. 

That night, you had become his hero. 

And since then, you had been the only object of his affections. 

Of course, over the years, Stiles had plenty of opportunities to tell you about his feelings for you. He just… always felt too cowardly to do so. 

In seventh grade, he had come very close to asking you out to the winter dance - only to have Scott beat him to the punch. When he pulled Scott aside to ask him about it, Scott confessed to him that he also had a crush on you. This resulted in their first ever fistfight. The first ever true rift in their otherwise close, brotherly friendship. 

The boys didn’t speak to each other for days. Which, naturally, annoyed the hell out of you. Especially because, of course, neither of them told you why they were fighting, not wanting you to know that you were the source of the rift in their friendship. And to you, this only made the fight seem more stupid and immature. 

So finally, when you demanded it, they called a truce. They agreed that they didn’t want to lose their friendship or lose you. They didn’t want to make you choose between them when it wouldn’t make any of you happy. 

So Stiles proposed that the three of you should go to the dance as friends, which you loved, and they both got you a corsage, one for each wrist - and the three of you still laughed at the pictures of you holding each of their arms. 

Eventually, Scott grew out of his crush on you and moved onto other girls, and he loved that he got to keep you as a close best friend, someone he could go to for dating advice if needed. Scott kept trying to convince Stiles to simply ‘man up’ and tell you about his feelings, but Stiles kept that same sentiment they had concluded upon years ago. Telling you about his feelings would only ruin the friendship. Not just between you, but between the entire group - it would fuck up the pack. 

Though it felt like the more he tried to ignore his feelings for you, the more they festered like a tumor. While Scott was able to mature past his crush on you, Stiles only grew more intense, and more insane when it came to his ‘crush’ on you. 

Over the years, his crush on you had grown from something sweet and childish into something much more. When puberty truly took over and lust was added into the mix, he now had to deal with the fact that you had grown into a gorgeous woman. He could barely control his arousal when looking at you, hearing your voice, smelling you, talking to you, thinking about you - even simply being in your presence made something in his mind melt. And it was growing much worse with each passing day. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wake up with a raging boner fueled by sexual dreams of you. 

And naturally, he would say that not telling you about his feelings for you was ultimately the best thing for him. He would steadfastly refuse to admit that him being distracted by all these fantasies of you was slowly eroding your friendship from the inside out. Slowly, bit by bit, his worst fears were coming true - your friendship was being ruined by his crush anyway. 

But he tried to ignore that. Even if you were the most gorgeous, perfect being ever put on the planet, he tried his hardest to simply enjoy the platonic version of you. He tried to act like he wasn’t stupidly, head over heels in love with you. 

He tried not to act like it. 

But on nights like this, it was just so hard. 

Tonight, the two of you were studying for an upcoming English mid-term that would be worth a decent portion of your final grade. 

Logically, Stiles knew that he should have locked himself in his room and forced himself to study independently. Or he should have taken up Scott on his offer to study with him and Allison. 

But no, he just had to ask you for your ‘help’. 

And you pitied him and said yes, because he was doing poorly in the class. The only reason for that being because it was one of the classes that he shared with you, and he spent all of his damn time staring at you across the room during it. He had tried to tell himself that he really would study tonight, that he would really take advantage of your intelligence here and now to get his shit together in order to up his grade. 

But no. That was just one of many daily lies that he told himself. Since the moment he had set foot in your bedroom that afternoon (and it was dark out now, well into the evening) - he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but you. 

Sure, sometimes that worked to his benefit. Hearing you recite Shakespeare, the words coming off your sweet lips - it did force him to focus on the material at hand for at least a short period of time. But it wasn’t like he was actually retaining any of it. He was just thinking about how gorgeous your voice sounded and how amazing you would be in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. One where he played Romeo, of course - and he would get to use someone else’s well-crafted words to romance you, finally getting to kiss you for the first time. 

Again - he was hopeless. 

Currently, Stiles was laying diagonally on your bed, sitting among a mess of books - the English textbooks, the assigned novels, the published copies of the play, along with binders of your notes and other notebooks, stray papers. He couldn’t pay attention to the notes he was supposed to be writing, not for a moment, not if his life depended on it. Not when you looked this stunningly beautiful while busy writing your own notes. 

With the soft lighting from your bedside lamp brushing across your skin, making that skin look even softer, you were a goddess-like vision sitting on the bed across from him. You were wearing the simple dress that you had worn to school earlier that day, your modest tights since shed off in the name of ‘comfort’ (and so that your cat wouldn’t rip holes in them while crawling across your lap, you had remarked to Stiles). When you had stood at your hamper and peeled them off your legs, Stiles had a hard time not letting the drool spill out across his chin. 

Your thighs were gorgeous. Thick, wide, spread out like a buffet for his eyes to feast on every single time you sat down. From his angle, laying down the way he was, he was up close and personal with the dimpling cellulite and stretchmarks you had there. The hem of your dress had ridden up when you had adjusted your position to get comfortable, and he felt absolutely spoiled by how much more of your thighs were revealed to him. 

A few times throughout the evening, he had to physically clench his fingers, tight, to remind himself not to reach out and touch. To remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to touch. The last thing he wanted to do was to creep you out by randomly reaching out and touching your thigh. But he wanted so badly to touch. 

How many times had he imagined what those thighs would look like bouncing and jiggling while you rode his cock? How many times had he imagined those thighs clamped around his head while he licked your pussy? (Far too many times for the good of his own sanity.) 

Not to mention the concentration spread across your face - you were so fucking hot when you showed off your intelligence. Hell everything about you was hot - your sweetness, your laughter, your sarcasm, even your bitchy side. But your bookish side had to be one of Stiles’s favorites. 

The way you would nibble your own lip when thinking, the way your brows furrowed slightly in thought. Everything about you - from the bra strap sticking out of the neckline of your dress to the chipped edge of your nail polish where you had chewed on it - you were a fucking vision. And Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried. 

It was a wonder that you didn’t notice Stiles staring at you - not as often as he did it. 

Stiles felt strangely caught when you put down your pen and looked up from your notebook, then. He quickly scrambled to grab his own pencil and start writing something, to look busy. But of course, he just looked like more of an idiot when the eraser end began scraping across the page in nonsense patterns. 

“Stiles,” You scolded him with a sigh, a way he was used to hearing his name come off your lips. “Have you gotten anything done? I told you to copy down at least half my notes-” 

Of course. You pegged his blank page as simple laziness, rather than his brain slowly melting out through his ears due to his inability to think about anything but you (especially when he was in the same room as you). At least he hadn’t been caught staring at you in that creepy way yet. 

You snatched up his notebook to check his work, and his heart dropped - if you looked too carefully, then he would be caught. In the back of that notebook, there were about three pages of his name and yours in hearts, and a few times he had practiced writing his signature as ‘Mr Stiles L/N’. (He was a feminist, and he liked the idea of starting a new tradition.) There was even a drawing he had made designing your theoretical wedding cake, including a cake topper where he was Superman and you were riding on his back while he was flying. 

“Y/N, uh-” 

He quickly snatched the notebook back, causing a glare from you while he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine.” He shrugged, knowing that he had to admit to a smaller crime in order to cover up the larger one. It was something that he did with his father all too often. “I didn’t get anything done. I was slacking off. You caught me.” 

“Stiles!” You scolded him again, reaching out to gently smack his shoulder. “If you keep this shit up, you’re never gonna graduate!” 

Sadly, you were probably right. His crush on you was absolutely going to ruin him. 

“Well, you could just let me copy off you,” He replied, giving you a wide grin that let you know he was mostly kidding. 

You rolled your eyes in reply, and soon your gaze caught sight of the clock on your nightstand. 

“Well, it seems like you have wasted enough of my time for tonight.” You scoffed sarcastically. 

Stiles knew that you had intended this to be a joke - but he couldn’t help the twinge of pain the words caused in his gut. The idea that he was truly just a waste of time in your life. He pressed his lips tightly together to suppress a frown and didn’t say anything more, and then you continued. 

“It’s almost your curfew anyway.” You pointed out, gesturing toward the clock. You were right. Stiles hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting - too busy enjoying his time with you. “We’ll pack it up for the night - but you should meet me at the library tomorrow morning, early, so we can go over everything again before the exam.” 

Of course, you were still invested in the idea of him getting a good grade, even if that seemed unlikely to happen. 

“You’re gonna make me get up early?” He whined, hating the idea of missing out on even ten extra minutes of sleep. 

“Yes.” You stressed. “I want you there at seven o’clock. Sharp.” 

Your ultra serious voice ordering him around was undeniably a turn-on for him. No matter what sexual fantasies Stiles cooked up about you in his mind, he could never picture himself having full control over you. In fact, most of the time, he found himself covered in cum at the idea of you having complete control over him. And it was likely because this was how most of your friendship went - you told him what to do, and he did it. And that was a huge part of why he fell for you in the first place. 

When he didn’t verbally confirm the time, too caught up in his infatuation yet again, you let out a gentle growl of frustration. 

“Stiles!” You called out his name. “You have to be there at seven. So you can’t get out of bed at seven - you have to set your alarm for like six-thirty, got it? Don’t make me come over there and get your ass out of bed like last time.” 

This thought caused Stiles’s stomach to clench. 

The last time you had come to his house to wake him up for school (because he had agreed to help you with some bakesale project and you were pissed off that he wasn’t there early to help you set up tables and whatnot) - you had charged into his house in a fury. You had your own key, of course, and his dad wasn’t there to busy you with conversation or pleasantries. 

And you charged right up the stairs and nearly caught him with a hand around his cock, jerking off to a picture of you in a bikini from the summer before. And he had rushed to shove the picture in his nightstand and cocoon himself in the comforter to hide his body just as you made it to the top of the stairs, shouting at him for being late. Luckily, he had gotten away with the lie that he had slept in, rather than revealing the truth that he had been distracted because he had woken up with morning wood after having a heated dream about you. 

When Stiles didn’t respond yet again, you grabbed a smaller decorative pillow from behind you and lightly hit him with it for emphasis, causing him to burst into laughter. 

“Promise me you’ll be on time!” You said, smacking him with the pillow again. 

“Yes, yes! I promise!” He finally agreed, his face becoming pink from laughter. 

You dropped the pillow then, and leaned down, causing his eyes to inadvertently go straight to your cleavage while you gave him a gentle, friendly kiss on the forehead. 

“Good boy.” You responded, praising him for agreeing to your terms. Obviously, it was another joke. 

But these praising words combined with your lips even slightly brushing against his skin, along with your tits dangling so close to his face, had his cock swelling to hardness nearly instantly. He grabbed the pillow then, trying to look subtle as he put it over his crotch, desperately trying to hide the very obvious bulge that had popped up at the front of his jeans within seconds. 

He was lucky when you shifted your attention away from him, now busy with cleaning off the bed, gathering your textbooks in a pile and moving to put them on your desk in the corner. You being distracted gave him a few moments to try and mentally will his dick down, which worked slightly. Only slightly. 

“You could help me, you know.” You mocked him lightly - distracting him from his thoughts of baseball, trying to will the blood out of his cock. 

He looked up and saw you standing there with his backpack, putting away his textbooks and notebooks now. He had been so dumbly distracted by his own dick that he hadn’t noticed you taking the kind initiative to clean up his things for him too. 

“Right, sorry.” He jumped into action and did so, taking things from your hands and shoving them into his bag with haste. 

“You don’t have to rush out, I just need the bed cleared off so I can pick out my clothes for tomorrow.” You told him. 

“Wait - you actually pick out your clothes in advance?” He asked, thinking that this was entirely adorable, and explained why you were always so well dressed. 

(And it explained why you were always so punctual in the mornings while Stiles was usually a mess - running around his house still half-asleep, shoving his head into a shirt that he had sniffed to see if it was clean, shoving things frantically into his bag in order to get out the door five minutes late.) 

“Well you know not all of us are okay with just throwing on last week’s mustard stained tee shirt,” You said, playfully pointing to a mustard stain that he had on his shirt from lunch. 

He rolled his eyes in return, trying to ignore the slight twist of embarrassment that wanted to swell up inside of him at the comment. 

There had been a point where he used to make a very pointed effort to impress you. Back when his crush on you had first gotten serious - likely around the beginning of high school. He used to get up early every single morning, spending a lot of time being intensely picky about the clothes he wore. He drowned himself in cologne (until you had complained about it), he wore certain colors just because you mentioned liking them. But none of it seemed to garner any more of your attention than usual. 

And so, he resigned himself to be the loser best friend who would always just float at the corners of your life, drowning in his secret affection for you until some better, hotter guy came along and swept you off your feet one day. 

He was just glad that day hadn’t come yet. 

Stiles was hesitant to leave - he wasn’t done being around you for the day yet, too emotionally attached. But he guessed that he would need to get some decent sleep before waking up at the asscrack of dawn in order to see more of you the next morning. (Even if it would include the horrors of studying at the library.) 

“So - I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He posed, ready to take his leave as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Ooh, wait one second.” You said, eagerness twinging through your voice. 

His heart pounded hard in his chest for a moment, wondering if this could be the moment he had been waiting so long for - would you stop him there, grab him by the shoulders and kiss him hard, and then tell him that you had been feeling the exact same way as he had for all these years? 

“Which one?” You asked, spinning around from your closet to face him, holding up two dresses on hangers. 

Oh. You were asking for his opinion about what you should wear to school the next day. 

“The blue one.” Stiles said, motioning towards it. “That shade of blue looks beautiful on you - it compliments your skin tone well, and it makes you shine. But ya know, you look gorgeous in everything. You could wear a paper bag to school and everyone would still be jealous of how amazing you look.” 

He rambled on for a moment too long, and realized that his genuine fondness for you - something straying too far into romantic territory - was slipping out. 

“But - uh, yeah. I’ll see you later.” He quickly added on, now eager to leave before you could make any further comments. 

Then he dashed out of your room and down the stairs, getting out the front door so fast that he practically left a poof of cartoon dust behind him. 

He got into the Jeep and tossed his bag into the passenger’s seat - which, he hadn’t realized was not even zipped up. (A habit you often scolded him for - going around with his bag unzipped.) Papers and books spilled across the seat and underneath it, and he let out a loud growl of frustration. 

“Idiot!” He screamed, scolding himself as he leaned down, trying to clean everything up. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!” 

Partially, he was feeling so idiotic because he had just been so vulnerable with you and you probably thought he was weird for it. Actually, that was mostly why. 

As he was picking up his things, he realized that - yup, he was missing his English textbook. He had forgotten it in your room. He heaved out a sigh and collapsed back against his seat. He could leave without it - but then he would get an earful from you in the morning about how he was ‘forgetful’ and ‘irresponsible’. Ugh. 

He got out of the Jeep again and shuffled his way back into your house - your mom was working late, so there was nobody there to question him running out of the house at top speed and then appearing back so soon. All he got was a curious chirp and a head tilt from your cat, who was sitting on the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stiles remarked to the animal, stopping for a moment to pet him. “I’m pathetic. But you can’t rat me out, okay? I know she thinks highly of your opinion and I need you to put in a good word for me. Got it?” 

The cat purred and pushed his face into Stiles’s hand, so he assumed that was a positive affirmation that he would root for Stiles - or at the very least, keep his secret. 

Stiles linger for a moment to scratch the cat’s furry cheek, and then he stepped over the cat and made his way back toward your room. He passed the closed bathroom door and heard the shower running, and he almost cheered. If you were in the shower, then you wouldn’t notice him slipping back in to grab his book, so you couldn’t scold him for being a forgetful idiot. 

He went into your room, and the second he made it through the mouth of your open bedroom, his eyes locked onto your bed like a hot target. Your clothes for the following day were spread out so neatly, and right there, on top of the blue dress he had suggested - there was a pair of lacy purple panties that were something right out of one of his fantasies. 

Stiles had thought about your underwear before - many times. Too many times to count. 

He had even caught small, passing glimpses of your underwear before - when you had worn dresses without tights and bent over in front of him. But he had only seen enough of it to determine the color, not to know if it was lacy or silk or cotton. And even that was enough to send him into a tailspin that had him rushing to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock. 

In the back of his mind - or truly, the forefront of his mind whenever he jerked off to thoughts of you - he always wondered what kind of underwear you wore. What kind of decorative wrapping your pretty pussy would come in if he ever got the other-worldly privilege of getting his hands up your skirt. 

Would they be simple, practical cotton underwear? Would they be cute? Would they be sinfully sexy? Would they be those underwear with the days of the week written across the front? 

But seeing this now - seeing the tangible evidence in front of him that you actually planned to wear purple lacy lingerie to school - it was something that had all sense draining from his mind as blood rushed to his cock once again. He barely had time to think about it - and he didn’t think about it. Because then, they were in his hands, in his pocket, and he was back in the Jeep, hiding his stolen goods in his bag and hastily zipping it up so he could slam his foot on the gas and race home. 

He didn’t even have a chance to think about the fact that he left without the textbook that he had gone back into your room looking for. He didn’t have the attention span to notice that said textbook was in a stack along with your own - almost as if purposefully kept there like an excuse to lure him back into your room, rather than clumsily forgotten by him. 

… 

When Stiles got into his room, he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, now entirely frantic, and thankful that his father was working a late shift again. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his hands shaking with anticipation as he unzipped his bag and pulled out the thing he had so hastily snagged. 

His mind was warring with so many sensations. Guilt for taking the panties, paranoia that he would get caught, shame that he even had the urge to take them in the first place - but all of that was easily toppled over and forgotten in the name of lust. Overwhelming lust and arousal that he felt for you. Greed and joy at knowing that he had something so private of yours in his hands now - something so secret that he shouldn’t have. A perfect little piece of you. 

His little secret piece of you. 

He still couldn’t believe that this was the kind of underwear you wore on a daily basis. 

Just imagining that this was what you wore to school - thinking about the fact that this was what you were wearing under your clothes during your everyday interactions with him: it drove him wild. 

He easily pictured this pretty lace sticking to your cunt when you were wet, the lavender colored material getting slick and slightly darker, soaked through and visibly sticky when you spread your legs for him to see. He wondered if your pussy would be shaved or not - but you didn’t have a boyfriend, so currently, you didn’t have anybody to shave for. 

He remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago where Scott had wondered if he should shave his pubes for Allison and you had remarked that ‘putting a razor near your junk’ was ‘ill-advised and stupid’ - so you probably didn’t even like shaving your pussy on principle. 

This immediately put a picture in his mind of your pussy being covered in soft hair that matched the shade on your head - maybe a bit darker. It would clump together with your juices and become soaked when you got wet. The little hairs would probably stick out cutely from the sides of the bikini cut underwear, peeking at him. 

Your pussy would be the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he knew that for certain. 

Stiles imagined getting you in the backseat of the Jeep one night after a game. 

He would still be covered in sweat from his efforts, worn out from trying his best. Sure, he wasn’t the best player, but you wanted to ‘reward’ him for his efforts on the winning side, even if he hadn’t directly contributed to the win. 

So as soon as the game was over, before he even had time to change out of his pads or shower, you hauled him to the parking lot and shoved him into the car. His gear was only half-off, ditched hastily by your feet, and you were in his lap - a perfect prize after all the hard work he had done, sitting astride his already sore thigh muscles while you kissed him - hard. Your mouth greedily sucked the oxygen out of his lungs while you shoved your tongue past his lips, painting his tongue with your sweet spit - and fuck, it felt like he was made for this. 

He got sucked so deep into the fantasy - it felt so damn real. 

He imagined having his hands splayed out against your beautiful, plump ass, gripping you tightly, noting wanting you to separate from him for even a section. While you held on tightly to his face, sealing him into the kiss until his lips were sore. And you would only pull back to look into his eyes with glossy desperation and utter out: 

“Please, Stiles. I need you. I need you to touch my pussy.” 

And what else could he do but obey? 

So he would lift up your skirt - a particularly short skirt that you had worn with nothing else but a pair of knee-high socks. Something that you knew he loved to see you cheer for him on the sidelines while wearing. Even though it was a chilly night, you couldn’t feel too cold when you saw him glancing at you every single chance he got. Of course, those distracted stares had gotten him screamed at by Coach more than once. But he loved the way your skirt would flutter up in the nighttime breeze, teasing him. The way the fucking beautiful thick fat of your thighs would jiggle whenever you would jump around in order to cheer him on. 

He was a man of simple, divine tastes. 

So - he would lift up that perfect skirt to find those purple lacy panties underneath; to find the perfection of your wet cunt waiting for him, growing slicker by the second, more needy for him. You were humping yourself against his athletic cup, which his hard cock was practically dying inside of, bursting to get out of the hard shell of plastic to touch you. But he ignored his own needs for a few minutes longer in favor of yours. Reaching forward, sliding his fingers along the wet spot at the front of your panties, absolutely indulging in the beautiful gasp you let out when his touch grazed across your swollen clit through the fabric. 

“Stiles, please.” 

He could almost hear it - it was so fucking clear inside his mind. The way your voice would be so pitched with desperation, so perfectly needy curled around his name. He wanted so badly to hear it in real life. 

And he would push those panties to the side, pushing his fingers inside of your hot, wet cunt-

Back in the real world, Stiles’s cock gave a needy pulse, leaking into his boxers. 

He heaved out a sigh, his cock practically vibrating with blood. He had driven home the whole time trying to ignore that boner, but he simply couldn’t do that anymore. He just had to give in. 

He hesitantly put your panties aside - already feeling a strange sense of attachment to them - and reached to his nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube that he had in the drawer. Shamefully, it was already half empty, mostly due to the fantasies that he had about you. He undid his pants and had them around his ankles in record time, and whipped off his shirt for good measure, knowing that he was quite a ‘splasher’ and not wanting to get cum on it to pair with that ugly mustard stain. 

He lubed up his cock more than a healthy amount, knowing that it would contribute to the fantasy of you being so wet around him. It was a distant fantasy that he would never actually get to achieve, but hell - a man can dream. Then he began to slowly pump his cock in hand, wanting to milk it and truly enjoy it, and he let his mind get back to work. 

He thought back to your place. A place he was comfortable, spent a lot of time at hanging out with you. 

He imagined that early that night when he had forgotten his book, rather than you being in the shower, he went back to your room and found that you had been getting ready for bed. You were rubbing sweet-smelling lotion on your arms, pulling back the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of cute little socks, a tiny camisole - where he could very visibly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, with the natural teardrop shape of your breasts bared to the eye, your nipples poking through the fabric - and those purple lace panties. 

When he would appear in the doorway, you would gawk at him and ask: 

“Stiles? What are you doing? Did you… forget something?” 

But you would be positioned half leaning over the bed, taking back the covers so it would be comfortable for you to sleep - and your ass would be unintentionally on full display. Your sweet pussy lips peeking at him from behind, the roundness of your ass so fucking inviting, daring him to leave bite marks across the beautifully fat flesh. 

And after a few moments of him staring so brazenly, saying nothing, simply drinking in the gorgeous sight of your body bent over, wearing so little clothing, wearing those perfect little lace panties-

(Stiles sped up his hand on his cock, the lube sounding downright sloppy in the silence of the room.) 

You would stand up to your full height, come to him in the doorway, put your face so close to his and say: 

“If you’re gonna spend so much time staring at me like a gaping idiot, then you should do something about it.” 

Stiles had to stop the swift movements of his hand and clutch his grip tightly around the base of his cock, making his entire dick throb hard as he edged off his own orgasm. 

He still wasn’t sure why the idea of you calling him an ‘idiot’ in such a brazen tone made him want to cum so hard - but he didn’t have time to unpack all that now. 

He grabbed up the panties again with his non-lubed hand. Something in the back of his mind thought that it would be a crime for him to get them dirty. Another part argued that he would absolutely love to get them covered in his cum, not clean them, and then return them to you. That it would be fucking thrilling to have you wear them in that dirtied state. 

Though he knew that would never fucking happen. 

If he returned the panties to you covered in his cum, then you would slap him, call him a pervert, and likely have Scott beat the shit out of him with his newly harnessed werewolf strength. Stiles pushed this thought to the back of his mind, though. 

Out of curiosity, he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a whiff. They smelled like fresh laundry - a nice lemony detergent. Of course they weren’t ones you had previously worn - they were a pair you had been planning on wearing tomorrow. 

He distantly wondered if that meant you would not be wearing underwear tomorrow, because he had taken your intended pair. And that could have led his mind down a whole different filthy track, but instead - he began to wonder what a pair of your dirty underwear might smell like. 

You should take a pair of used ones. A voice in his mind told him. Snatch them right out of the hamper. Come on, you’re over at her place all the time. She won’t even notice them gone. 

Terrible idea. Terrible rabbit hole. 

But what would they smell like? 

He wasn’t deluded enough to think that pussy smelled like roses. He had never been close enough to one - a real pussy - before to actually know. Yes, he was a virgin. He could have said that he was waiting, ‘saving it’ for you - but every other girl, including you, was smart enough to look past him. There were plenty of other guys who were better looking and more charming than him, and probably better in bed than him, that girls had chosen instead of him. 

He wondered if your pussy smelled like that perfect bit of sweat that you gathered at the end of a long day. Sometimes when he went to hug you before the two of you parted ways, he would catch a whiff of the tiniest undertone of musk, a good amount of sweat paired with the berry scented body spray you had put on that morning, and orange tic-tacs you had popped after lunch. It was a delectable combination. 

He imagined that your cunt would smell like that bit of sweat, combined with the blueberry body wash you used - the one he knew about and loved because of the time you had insisted he use your shower while stinking up a study session because he had skipped the showers after lacrosse practice when he was late to be with you. 

He imagined getting hints of that blueberry body wash smell coming off your thighs when his head was buried between them. What would your cunt taste like? That was a mystery he wanted to solve live. 

He could always imagine the other aspects so well. 

He could imagine the feeling of the heat under his tongue, the perfect feeling of your wetness mixing with his spit. He imagined getting to bounce your swollen clit against his tongue and while feeling your moans and cries of his name vibrate through your body as he pleasured you so well - the feeling of your pubes brushing against his cheeks as his entire face became soaked with your wetness. 

But the taste - that was something he could never conjure up in his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 

He knew that eating your pussy would be perfect. Not just because he would be giving you pleasure, serving you. But he so often dreamed of having his head smothered by your thighs, having you grab his head and shove him tighter into your cunt, you purposeful and demanding. You having that beautiful control over him while he drowned in your wetness. 

He knew that he would likely cum in his pants from eating you out if he ever got the privilege of doing so, and even if you laughed at him - stupidly, he would find that hot too. 

Stiles picked up the pace again, pumping his cock in hand evenly and firmly - even reaching down with the other hand to cradle his balls, gently rolling the flesh in his hand as he got lost in another fantasy of you. 

He imagined the two of you in his bed - textbooks forgotten and pushed off onto the floor, your dress hiked up around your hips, and again, those fucking purple lace panties. He was on top of you, hovering on his knees so that his hard cock wouldn’t brush against you (even through his jeans) while the two of you sloppily made-out. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled away from his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Stiles,” You purred into his ear, kissing along his neck. “You know, you’re so pathetic.” 

These words had his cock jumping, spurting out precum - in his fantasy, it made his underwear messy as you undid his fly. 

In the real world, it made his hand messy as he continued to rhythmically jerk his cock. 

“I’m not gonna let you fuck me.” You told him, contrasting these words with your intentions as you put your hands inside his waistband and shoved his pants and underwear down over his hips - down to his knees until his hard, throbbing cock was exposed. “Not until you prove yourself.” 

Before Stiles could ask the question, the beautiful, fantastic you that he had made up inside his mind gave him the perfect answer. 

“Get yourself off by rubbing your pathetic dick against my panties. And then - I might let you fuck me.” 

In the real world, Stiles let out a throttled moan - a choked sound that surely would have had his father knocking on the door to ask if he was okay if he was at home. And then he rushed to grab the panties again, and without even thinking, he used his sticky lubed up hand to position the fabric around his dick. It was a coarse roughness compared to the slick smoothness he had previously been feeling, but it did wonders to complete his fantasy as he delved back to the you inside of his mind. 

He started rubbing the slightly lube-sticky rough fabric up and down his dick at a very slow pace as he imagined it: 

Being perched between your thighs, with the fabric of the panties stuck to your wet cunt, his cock hard and leaking as he tucked himself right up against you and began to rub his dick against you in order to get off. Just like you wanted, just like you had ordered him to do. 

“Please.” Stiles chanted, the words leaking out of his lips, chanted into his empty bedroom as he pleaded to the imaginary you that would always have a hold over him - just as tight of a hold as the real you had. “Please, please - oh fuck.” 

He moved the fabric over his cock faster as he moved his hips faster in the fantasy, imagining how hot your pussy would feel against him, imagining your nails digging into his hips as you looked up at him with mocking and adoration in your eyes. He imagined you forcing his hips faster, trapping him in place with your knees bracketed around his thighs, showing him absolutely no mercy. 

“Please, please, please.” He chanted, knowing with a distant part of his mind that he must have sounded utterly delirious. “Please, Y/N, lemme cum-” 

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

Confirmed by that fantasy version of you and truly unable to hold it any longer, Stiles arched up off the bed, cumming all over his own fist. Just as he had predicted, it was an utter, uncontrollable mess. He shot cum all over his stomach, and absolutely soaked the fabric of the panties - making a horrible mess of them. Which, the lube had definitely already done. He laid there for a single moment catching his breath before it truly hit him. 

Fuck. He had fucked up. 

You would definitely notice the underwear missing after a while and he certainly couldn’t return them to you in this condition. 

… 

Stiles spent the next hour in the bathroom, absolutely panicking over how to get them clean. Luckily, he wasn’t a total idiot and he looked up the washing instructions online - and after hand-washing them in warm water with a ‘gentle’ detergent (handsoap was the best that he could do), they came out perfectly clean. 

The only problem? 

Hang to dry. 

He set his alarm for early, earlier than you suggested, and prayed that he wouldn’t sleep through it. In fact, he set three more alarms just to make sure. He couldn’t have you or his father barging into his room to wake him up when he had a pair of your stolen panties pinned to his corkboard in order to properly dry them so that he could sneak them back to you in good condition. 

… 

The next day, he departed for school by 6:45 with the stolen goods hidden away in his bag, ready to sneak them back into your room later that afternoon. He made it to the library ten whole minutes before seven, and you seemed shocked that he was not only on time - but early. 

“Wow.” You said, having just gotten there yourself, spreading out your items at a table - including a tray with some coffees. “You know, Stiles, I am impressed.” 

“You don’t have to act so - so shocked.” He replied, partially interrupted by a yawn. 

You leaned over to get a pen from your bag, and Stiles’s eyes immediately went to your ass, unconsciously trying to spot panty lines through your dress and tights - wondering if you were even wearing underwear because he had stolen the ones you had intended for today. 

Focus, Stiles. Focus. 

“Well, if you weren’t here by seven sharp like I told you, I was gonna pour this in the garbage.” You told him, taking his coffee out of the paper tray and sliding it toward him. 

“You don’t have to be so mean.” He chuckled, airy and light - very secretly annoyed with the way your ‘mean’ streak affected him sometimes. Why did he have to be turned on by you scolding him and punishing him? Why? 

“Hey, if I’m not mean then you never get anything done.” You told him truthfully. “And you know how it works by now. Good boys get rewards and bad boys get spanked.” You told him, letting out a bright laugh - indicating that it was clearly meant to be a joke. 

But instantly, it shook his mind with imagery of you bending him over the table, ripping his pants down and spanking him until he came untouched and cried for mercy, forcing him to agree that he would behave and listen to you. He became downright dizzy at the thought. 

You meant it as a joke - he had to sharply remind himself. But the way you so casually called him a ‘good boy’, said that he was deserving of a ‘reward’ - it sent chills down his spine and already had his cock waking up. Too early. Bad rabbit hole. 

If he was any sort of brave, he would have pushed it more and asked you what kind of ‘reward’ you had in mind. But he wasn’t, and he was too tired to analyze the potential consequences. 

“Oh!” You said, as though suddenly remembering something. You moved to grab your bag again and Stiles closed his eyes to forcefully keep himself from staring at your ass. “You left this at my place last night.” You told him, sliding his English textbook across the table toward him. 

He was too busy trying to calm his own lust that he missed the smirk on your face - the mischief lingering in your eyes, the intention in your tone. He was too caught up, drowning in his own affections for you that he never would have pieced together that you had taken in and hidden it on purpose as a ploy to get him to come back. That you had put out some other bait for him to find. 

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “So - what do we need to go over before the test?”

“Everything.” 

Stiles groaned.

...

Edit to my notes as of Oct. 9th, 2024:

It is now my biggest regret announcing that there is a sequel to this fic in my drafts, but there is one that is fully written and just needs to be edited (but that is something that takes time and effort - neither of which I am going to put into the fic right now). However, it will not be posted anytime soon, and it is delayed infinitely. It will be posted when it is posted (and currently I don't know when that will be), and I would appreciate people not chasing me down and not asking about it.

Originally, my point of having a comment and reblog goal on this fic was so that a certain percentage of the people who read and liked the preview for this fic would have to reblog it, but the ratio on this fic is still absolutely horrendous, and it's clear to me that once people saw that goal was met, they didn't care to reblog this fic or comment on it if they enjoyed it - they only care to nag me and chase me down for the sequel while this fic sits at over 600 likes and less than 100 reblogs and comments (including my replies to people's comments).

If you are reading this fic after the edit, I hope you enjoyed it. I hope you do stick around on my blog while I work on and post other things. But the sequel to this fic will not be coming out anytime soon because I am a person with shifting interests, not a robot. Those shifting interests (and me chasing them organically) is the reason that I can produce 200k of fanfiction in a year and post all of it for free for people to enjoy.

And as always - if you enjoyed this fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written. And perhaps, consider reblogging it to show your appreciation. Please do not comment about the sequel.

If you want to be tagged in the next part, you can ask to be put on my Teen Wolf taglist by interacting with this post, but please know that if you don't follow my taglist rules, you will be removed from the taglist promptly. If that happens, you are still welcome to read and enjoy future fics, you just won't be included in my taglists ever again.

Happy reading, and I hope you enjoyed the fic!!

[starboye]

Kinktober Day 5

starring: stiles stilinski x ftm!male reader

request: Stiles Stilinski rough fucking ftm!male reader and talking about how much he want you to get pregnant

warnings: smut, breeding, mention of male pregnancy, cursing, pussy eating, ftm!reader, slight overstimulation

he couldn't just go one day without touching your fine body, the moment you came over to his house after not talking to him all day because of your studies he was kissing all over your face and picking you up to take you to his bed.

not hiding his intentions of what he wanted to do to you right now "stiles no I just got off school im tired" you slowly push him off but he doesn't budge and goes right back to kissing you "don't worry you won't have to do anything I'll take care of it all for you baby" stiles reassured trailing his kisses down your abdomen to your crotch.

he deeply sniffed the growing wet spot in between your legs making you subconsciously close them but stiles prys them open "just a taste y/n" he pulled your pants down and off along with your underwear, admiring your beautiful pussy that's dripping with glory, diving into eating you out, his tongue thrusting in and out of you with hunger.

your hands instinctively finding his head to inter lock your fingers with his curls, he lifts your legs over his shoulder to trap his head between your legs (somewhere he wanted to always be) so he could continue outing out this sweet sweet cunt "oh fuck stiles ngh I'm gonna..." you tightened your grip on his hair as you back arched and sprayed your delicious arousal over his face.

"so fucking good, I could eat this all day" stiles chuckles sitting up on his knees and pulling you into his now naked crotch, his cock layed perfectly over your pussy, he begins slowly rubbing up your back and over your body, silently trying to convince you to go further "if we do it are you gonna stop pestering me" you chuckle and you see his eyes light up.

"yes yes yes" he furiously nods his head leaning down to kiss you, his kisses leading down your neck all the way back down to your pussy, your slickness acting as lube for him to easily slip in, him throwing his head back to the tightness of you, listening to your cute moan at the feeling of his cock all the way in and in a matter of no time stiles starts fucking you with no stop.

the sounds of skin on skin slapping and moans filling the room instantly, stiles fingers digging into your plush thighs as he lets out husky grunts though his thrusts, it felt so good to be in you he could fuck you from day to night and trust with how high his sex drive is and how horny he is he could definitely do it.

he was thinking of all the things he would do to you if he could get the chance "y/n" he asked through raspy breaths "yeah" you whimpered gripping the sheets tightly as stiles slammed his cock into your gummy walls over and over "I wanna get you pregnant" stiles says in a moment of vulnerability "you know guys can't get pregnant right stiles" you snicker but those are quickly shot back into moans "but what could be the harm in trying right" stiles flashes a smile through his thrusts "id like to see that" you say but quickly regret as stiles immediately starts going harder.

gripping your thighs tighter and tighter as he felt himself pump his first load into your sopping cunt, it felt so euphoric as he didn't stop and kept going, you tightening around him wanting more of his warm cum in you "fuck yes stiles right there" you whine feeling him hit just the right spot in you again and again with his cock, he loved the sounds of your moans, they were like fuel to keep him going and hopefully get you preggo.

"get pregnant, get pregnant, get pregnant" he muttered over and over hoping it would come to fruition, he wanted to live the rest of his life with you (and hopefully get to fuck that beautiful pussy everyday) with kids and you loved he thought like that but realistically that can't happen but that still wasn't going to stop him from emptying load after load into you hoping a baby would form and while lost in thought he didn't realize him dumping another load into you.

after hours of fucking your legs were shaking and you were breathless while stiles still kept going and going "stiles please stop" you plead feeling every part of your body weak "just one more baby and I'm done i promise" he said feeling his fifth or sixth load coming up and soon pumping into you before pulling out of your ruined hole, it overflowing with all of his cum, his cock twitching watching you weakly try to keep it in but fail and it drips all over the bed, hopefully that was enough baby batter.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft @wompwomp-1mh3re

[stilinskibaby]

brother's best friend.

PAIRING : stiles stilinski x mccall!reader.

CONTENT : fluff ๑ angst ๑ smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bamboozledbird]

Written in the Stars // Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader Pairing: Stiles x Reader, Stiles x You (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5k Tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, i love my men nerdy and desperate, all characters are over 19, my vibe is it's like their sophomore or junior year of college Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, unprotected pnv (terrible advice, babes, don't listen to these idiots)

Request: stiles smut plssss!!! anything fluffy??? A/N: request mixed with a lil bit of an old work to ease me into my first smut. still coming across virginities at 27, and that is really something. s/o to the anon who requested it lmao.

Stiles’s childhood bedroom is an assortment of Star Wars paraphernalia, baseball posters, and bundles of wrinkled flannels squeezed to fit within four faded blue walls. There are a few books stacked on top of his desk, coated in a thin layer of dust from the semester away from home, and little plastic stormtroopers stand at attention on his dresser corners. It smells a little musty in his room, a little like damp earth, but you’ve always liked that smell. You especially like how his cologne smells here—like spice, like fallen leaves, like Christmas morning. 

“The curtains are blackout,” Stiles says. He pulls the heavy navy curtains over the window facing the small backyard. The grass is yellowing from the cold of winter, and the air is crisp with the same bitter chill. You shiver and burrow further into the sweatshirt you’d somehow commandeered long before you and Stiles were a we. A few flecks of dust float off the plaid bedding when he sits down on his bed. He looks up at you and grins at the sleeves hanging limply below your fingers, “Flip off the light.” 

You turn off the light and shut the door. It’s dark inside the room now—almost completely black. What little remains of the sun is gone, and now you can only see the glow-in-the-dark stars sticky-tacked to the ceiling. “You must have taken a lot of people up here,” you hum, grinning at him coyly over your shoulder. You’re not quite sure if he can make out the glint in your eyes under the pale fluorescent glow, but you’d like to think he can. Either way, you’re sure he knows.

Stiles laughs easily and scoots himself down to the edge of his bed, “Why?”

“For kissing,” you say, matter-of-factly, but you’re still grinning. You make your way towards him, and your prowl is far less smooth than you’d like it to be—the piles of books and a couple month’s worth of dirty laundry make an already difficult path downright hazardous. You count it as a win when you end up in his lap without tripping on anything, “Doesn’t everyone want to be kissed under the stars?”

His hands, his wonderfully large and veiny hands, find their way to your hips. It’s instinct for him, reflexive at this point, and here in the dark it feels like the only thing he knows. You can feel his grin against your neck, “Do you?” 

You hum, playing coy, and absently curl your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, thick and curling a bit at the ends. It’s grown out over the last few months. He’s been too busy with studying for finals and working at the library to bother getting it cut. You like it like this, long enough to hold onto, long enough to yank. “I like the stars,” you sigh—so close to his mouth, but not touching—and then you pull back, smiling fondly when you see his mouth is already puckered. “Tell me about ‘em.”

Stiles groans and falls onto his back, pulling you down with him. You end up tucked against his side, shivering as he slides his hand under your sweatshirt to trace a feathery line up and down your back. “That’s like the worst possible genre for innuendo. I can’t woo you while I’m David Attenborough-ing about astrology.”

You smile against his shoulder, and he yelps when you nip at his skin through his thread-bare t-shirt. “You like a challenge.”

He wraps a strand of your hair around his finger and pulls a little, just hard enough to tip into a reprimand. It’s at least half the reason you turn into a brat when he’s this close. “There’s Andromeda,” he hums against the top of your head, pointing towards a small cluster of stars. “Those are supposed to be her legs, and that’s her head, and the ones over there are her arms—fuckin’ uneven, I know. I think that side kinda looks like she’s holding out one of those canes with tennis balls on t—”

You smile and knock your head into his chin lightly, “Wooing, Stiles.”

He tugs on your hair again and swears under his breath when a little whimper tumbles past your lips. “Anyway, she’s next to Perseus—who looks a lot more like Patrick than a demigod. I mean, look at him; his body type is like…something between Dorito and spanakopita.” You laugh, and Stiles squeezes you closer to his side, tangles your legs together, and kisses the tip of your nose like he just can’t help himself. “Story goes, Andromeda's mom royally pissed off Poseidon, so he sent a sea monster to destroy her kingdom—as one does when someone’s talking shit.”

“Naturally,” you hum as you reach for the hand he has cupped around your waist. 

“Naturally,” Stiles agrees, nodding against the crown of your head. You try not to get too distracted by the length of his fingers, bending them and straightening them out one at a time, as he carries on with the story, “So Andromeda’s mom is up there with the titans of bad parents—like right next to Vader and every Disney step-mom ‘cause she fuckin’ ties Andromeda to a rock as a sacrifice for the mo—” He sucks in a shallow breath through his teeth when you start kissing along the row of his knuckles, first little soft brushes that almost tickle and then a few lingering ones that wet his skin. He swears again and ever-so slowly shifts his hips against the thigh tucked between his legs. You take pity on him and rest your entwined hands in the small gap between your breastbone and his ribs. His exhale is warm against your forehead, “Obviously, Perseus swoops in at the last minute, slays the beast, gets the girl, etcetera, etcetera.”

Humming, you tip your chin up against his chest and look at him through your lashes, “What happens during etcetera, etcetera?” 

“I think,” Stiles rolls over so that he’s on top of you, bracing his weight on his forearms, caging you in delightfully close to his broad chest, “something like this.”

You forget about the game for a minute when he starts mouthing at your skin with just the right amount of teeth. His hair, adorably messy and sticking up in little patches from your fingers, tickles the hinge of your jaw. “Didn’t Perseus kill Medusa?” you mumble, head tipping back into the mattress, eyes closed. 

“Uh,” Stiles keeps kissing along your neck, obviously distracted by the hitches in your breath and the soft sighs you let out when he breathes against spit-slick skin, “yeah?”

You can feel the heaviness of his whine against your mouth when you pull away, blinking up at him with big, round eyes—the picture of innocence. A little lamb, an unplucked daisy, a gossamer butterfly wing, entirely unaware of the raging hard-on pressed against your inner thigh. His skin is warm through his shirt, so warm you feel it on your legs when you wrap them around his waist. “While she was sleeping?”

“Uh huh,” Stiles slides a hand up your thigh. The other one is pressed into the mattress, and the muscles in his forearm flex under his full weight. You’re pretty sure he’d agree with anything you say like this.

Unfortunately for the pulsing between your legs, you’ve fallen victim to your own ruse. Your head tilts as you recall all the unsavory details of the Medusa myth, “After she was literally assaulted by his dad?”

Stiles drops his head against your chest and groans, “You’re killing me, baby.”

You grin and curl your fingers in his hair, petting him gently and squeezing your thighs against his hips, “Tell me another one.”

He sighs and rolls over, starfishing his right arm and leg over the edge of the bed with a dramatic flop. “We’ll skip Orion and the seven girls he stalked.”

“Smart choice,” you hum and snuggle into his side. His chest is firm from hours of trying to lift enough to play lacrosse with werewolves, but it still makes for a nice pillow. Stiles’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you swallow back the purr rising in your throat for his sake. He’s been so good for you, after all. You don’t want the torture to be too painful.

“And the swan-fucker,” he adds, scratching lightly at your scalp.

“What?”

Stiles ignores your wide eyes, smirking, and continues playing with your hair, “Altair and Vega. That’s a good one.” In the blanket of darkness and under the strain of yearning, his voice sounds soft and crackly, like one of those singers in the black and white movies, the ones that dance with the microphone. “Starts with a gorgeous, sexy, incredibly charitable goddess falling for a lowly mortal,” his grin is sly as he hikes your thigh over his, squeezing just under your ass, “a lot like us.”

“Boo. Awful.” You pull a face as he drops a flurry of kisses over your cheeks, nose, chin—your laughing mouth, “Disgusting. I’m disgusted.” 

His fingers dip into the waistband of your leggings, tauntingly close to just where you want him, “You don’t feel disgusted.”

Now, that won’t do. You’re just getting started. You trap his hand with your thighs and tap your finger against the slope of his upturned nose, “Finish the story.” 

Stiles whines a little and then sighs, returning the palm of his hand to the little dip above your hip. “Her dad is disgusted that she wants to bring a loser human home, so he turns them into stars on opposite sides of the galaxy.”

Frowning, you squint at the collection of stars he’d pointed to. They don’t look so far apart on his bedroom ceiling. “That’s…depressing.”

“It’s not over yet,” Stiles pulls on your hair and does his best to look annoyed, but the nip to your bottom lip feels far more like a reward than a punishment, “hush.” He waits a minute for you to comply—or, more likely, not comply—and you settle back on his chest and arch your brow, waiting. He arches his brow right back and then keeps going, “One day a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, Altair fills the galaxy with his tears, and every bird in the sky makes a bridge with their wings so that they can spend one more night together.”

The corner of your mouth tugs into a little grin, “That is a good one.” You trace little patterns on his bicep, little swirls and stars, and rest your chin on his shoulder so that you can see his pretty face, “But just for the story. Only one night a year would kill me.”

“Baby,” Stiles clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and shakes his head like he's disappointed, bottom lip jutting out slightly from under his top, “it'd take a helluva lot more than a couple light-years and an immortal father-in-law to keep me from getting to you.” 

It’s such a line, but the dopey grin he gives you while he says it somehow makes it charming. Maybe you’re just a little bit lovesick. Okay, maybe a lot. “You can kiss me n—”

He’s on you before you can finish, but you don’t mind being interrupted when he's slanting his mouth against yours just right and groaning into your sighs with a gravelly pitch that makes your toes curl. “Fuck me,” Stiles sighs. He dips back in before you can quip something bratty, something that would definitely earn you another yank on your hair—later perhaps. 

You straddle his waist, sit back in the cradle of his pelvis, and lace your fingers together on the mattress against the sides of his head. He whimpers. You curse. “Off,” you mutter against his mouth, tugging petulantly on the hem of his t-shirt. Stiles is quick to comply, like always, but the fabric gets stuck around his shoulders. You let him struggle for a minute, just long enough to hear more of those petulant little whines. When you finally help him wrangle his shirt over his head, you’re up close and personal with his mouth. His lips are pretty—swollen, pink, and shiny with salvia and your lip balm—and you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to bite. You toss his shirt somewhere on the floor behind you and lean down, your chest pressed against his. You can feel his heartbeat stutter, like a rabbit in a trap, when you stroke your thumb over his bottom lip. It’s soft and wet against your finger, and you sigh high in your throat, “Pretty.”

His chest warms, and you wish you had more light to admire the flush spreading from his neck to his cheeks. You know it’s pink and pretty too, but you’d enjoy seeing the proof. “Pretty?” Stiles echoes, cocking his head slightly, and slides his hands from your ass to your hips. He continues his path along the sides of your ribcage with the bottom of your sweatshirt bunched between his fingers.

“Pretty,” you nod, sharp and definitive. You sit up a little so that Stiles can pull your hoodie off, and then it’s lost to the dark abyss. Frankly, you aren’t that worried about if you ever see it again. You can always steal another one after you’re done. 

He shakes his head and runs his hands over your torso, your collarbones, your stomach, just under your tits—he can’t see that well in the dim light, so he’s damn well going to see you the only way he can. “Pretty,” Stiles groans, cupping your tits and gently thumbing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your cotton bra. It’s simple, white, unadorned by lace or a pattern—and it’s sexier than it has any right to be, he thinks. He’s eager to rip it off.

You shudder through the entire length of your spinal column, through all the nerves attached, and arch into his touch, “Yeah?” 

He coos, and your nipples pebble in response. It’s embarrassing but soon forgotten when Stiles cups your face, big hands encompassing almost the entire length of your jaw, and whispers, “Pretty girl. My pretty baby.” 

It’s even more embarrassing how quickly you feel your underwear dampen under the scrutiny of some simple praise. Now, you’re whining, and he’s letting out a string of guttural, “Fuck,”s as you grind down against the increasingly painful bulge in his jeans. Your nails leave little pink lines along the sculpted v of his pelvis, just deep enough to sting a bit—enough to send his head back towards his shoulders. He sits up a little more so that he can grip your hips, holding them still as he catches his breath, and you’re only a little ashamed of the way you mewl his name in protest. Stiles shuts you up with a kiss and shakes his head, “Can’t come in my pants like I’m 17 again. That’s the worst possible ending to our constellation. Like a 1/10, definitely certified rotten.”

You grin against his throat, and he swallows at the sharp press of your teeth. “Oh, I don’t think that’s the worst ending. Wouldn’t the worst be the one where you don’t come at all?” 

Stiles’s fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you down firmly against his lap, like he’s scared you’ll get up and leave him with a weeping cock and teary eyes. “Baby, don’t even joke about that. That’s a billion times worse than letting a sea monster rip me in half.”

“Guess you can split me in half then,” you shrug a little, and Stiles goes taut under you, fingertips flexing into the small of your back, “unless you want me to tie you to a rock. I’d be into that.”

He growls in your ear, nipping at your jaw and flipping you onto your back. You laugh, a little breathless, as you bounce back on the mattress from the force of it. “Definitely wanna split you in half,” Stiles mutters as he shucks off his pants and kneels at the edge of his bed. He starts peeling back your leggings, taking his time to kiss each sliver of skin revealed to him despite the urgency in his eyes, despite the ache in his white-knuckled grip on the buttery martial of your bottoms. “Gonna wreck you,” Stiles promises as he brushes his lips over your ankle a few times. His words are filthy, but his eyes are honey-sweet and lit with nothing but complete and utter devotion—like you really are a goddess in the sky. You’re already wrecked, probably have been since he kissed you for the first time, entirely ruined for anyone else.

“Did’ya know that Vega is brighter than Altair,” he says, quiet and reverent as he drops your leggings. You blink at him, a bit dumbly, but it’s his own fault for trying to have a conversation while he’s sliding your legs over his shoulders and fiddling with the hem of your underwear. “By, like, 5 places? I think? That’s us too—can’t even look at you sometimes,” he hums, warm against your wet cunt, and hooks his thumbs around your panties. You shudder, and he smiles. You aren’t quite sure if he’s talking to you or to the glistening flesh he reveals when he yanks the baby pink cotton to the side. Either way, you understand his dilemma. It’s torture to watch him sometimes. You have to close your eyes when the pink tip of his tongue darts out, wetting his lip, tasting the air. 

There’s a sigh. So soft. Really more of an exhale, and you aren’t sure where it came from. It could’ve been you, or him, or the stars. “You talk a lot,” this time you know the sigh is coming from you. 

Stiles smirks a little and slips his thumb inside your panties, swiping through your slick folds like he’s fingerpainting, “Is that a complaint?”

Your hips stutter, and his other hand is quick to clamp down on your skin, stopping any attempts to skitter away from his light touch. “I love it when you talk,” you hum, leaning up onto your elbows so that you can watch him work. He grins up at you, almost shy, and presses down against your clit. A wet gasp bursts through swollen lips as your back arches, and Stiles isn’t so shy when he bends down to drop a gentle kiss over his thumb. “But I, uh,” you brush your fingers through the dark hair flopping over his forehead and squeeze your eyes shut when his kisses become kitten licks, “I also love it when you use your mo—” His finger (his long, gifted finger) slides into your cunt with an embarrassing squelch, and his lips wrap around your clit as he sucks. “That,” you whine, back arching a little until Stiles spreads his fingers over your stomach and presses down, “I also love it when you do that.” 

His laugh vibrates deliciously against all the places he’s trying to devour, and you think it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go—being eaten alive by your gorgeous boyfriend. He pulls back to slip another finger in your pussy, spreading them just enough to burn in the best way, and then he’s prodding at the spot inside you that sends a jolt up your spine—makes your fingers wind in the bedspread, pull on his hair, fly to your mouth when you start to cry a little. It didn’t used to be like this. Sex. Getting fingered, fucked, even eaten out—it never felt like this before him. It’s…overwhelming, sometimes. Most of the time, actually. You keep waiting to get used to it, for the newness, the discovery of it all, to wear off. Hasn’t happened yet. You don’t think it ever will. Certainly not tonight. 

“Good?” Stiles licks his lips, at the glistening corners of his mouth, and you toss your head back—overwhelmed. “Good,” he concludes, and he’s not even smug about it. More like he’s making a note in one of his case files, something to look back on later when he needs it. He’s quick about getting what little remains of your clothes off, and when he crawls on top of you, you’re immensely grateful for it. Skin on skin, nothing quite like it. Quick romps in the jeep, up against alley walls, the sink of the occasional bar bathroom—all fun, but not nearly as satisfying as being completely pressed against his naked body, completely caged in by his large frame. Sappy, maybe, but it feels dirty when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. When he bumps against your clit, you mewl and dig your nails into his back. He sucks in sharply and buries his face in the crook of your neck, “There’s a condom in th—”

“Forget it,” you whimper, carding your fingers through his hair. It’s a little sweaty where it meets his neck, and it’s so soft, and thick, and perfect, and—he’s stopped breathing against your neck. 

He groans from a place deep in his gut, deeper actually, and his arms shake, “Are you su—”

“Yes,” you nod rapidly and wrap your legs around him, arms too, and your fingers join in on the clinging when they twist in his hair. “Absolutely. 1000%. Please don’t make me say please.”

He lets out a little laugh that stirs the hair framing your face, and he traces your cheekbone, barely touching your skin. Your head swims with the look in his eyes: amber, warmth, and worship, “But you’re just so pretty when you beg.” Not that you’ve ever had to for long. Stiles gives you anything you want if you ask him the right way. If you look at him with big, wet eyes, if you jut out your lower lip just so—wet as well, the little lick of your tongue is part of it; that took him months to figure out—he crumbles. He’s said many times that better men than he have fallen victim to far less beautiful schemes. 

Stiles kisses the pout off your lips and nudges the tip of his nose over yours, grinning like a drunken idiot, “Told’ya, baby. Not a light-year, definitely not a little latex.” His grin slides into a little ‘o’ when you slither your hand between your bodies and grip his cock, sliding the first inch into your cunt, impatient. “F-fuck—fuck-ing hell,” he grunts and takes over for you, squeezing your hip until it starts to hurt a little. You’d say something, but then he’d stop—and you like the way it aches. You like knowing there will be a bruise. He’ll fret over it later, kiss each mottled spot better a million times, and you like that too. You like being taken care of, almost as much as he likes taking care of you. 

When he bottoms out, when his pelvic bone ruts up against you, a long, drawn out whimper spills through your pout. “Yeah? Feels good, baby?” Stiles watches your face closely, brushes away the hair sticking to your forehead, and drops a few kisses on your shut eyelids. You nod, and nod, and nod, until he stops you with another kiss to your lips. He kisses you slowly, presses his tongue against the seam of your lips, and you sigh. The kiss quickly becomes wet and filthy, and you’d be embarrassed by the sound of your tongues sliding together if you could actually hear it. At the moment, all you can hear is his cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy—and that’s definitely sending a dizzying heat up your neck. You don’t worry about it for long when his hips shift and he starts hitting that spot inside you again. After that, neither of you can hear anything over your squealing. Stiles kisses away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes and licks his lips, chasing the taste. “Right there, huh?” You babble an incoherent answer, and he strokes your hair and noses at your cheek, “Yeah, right there. I know. It’s okay.” 

Stiles slides his hands under your back and sits up, taking you with him. The new angle is impossibly deep, and you bite down on his shoulder and wind your arms around his neck to keep yourself there. With him. In the moment. “It’s okay, baby. I got you, promise,” he squeezes your hips, and despite his reassurances and the strength of his grip, you know he’s falling apart too. He’s close. You can feel it. His hips stutter a little, change direction, lose their dedicated pace—and it’s perfect because you’re right there with him. It’s been building for a while, probably since he led you by hand to his room, maybe even before that when he smirked at you behind his cup of tequila and (mostly) pineapple juice. 

You cry a little and bite down on your bottom lip, hard. Stiles kisses the sting away, and your eyes screw shut as you start babbling again, “I’m—”

He kisses you again and lifts his hands from your hips to cup your face, thumbing along your bottom lip when he pulls back—not far, just enough to look at your face, shiny with sweat and tears. “I know,” he stills for a moment, pausing the movement of his hips so that he can just feel you pulsing around him for a moment, “me too.” You aren’t sure if you want to hit him or kiss him for stopping, but you don’t have the strength to do either when he starts what must be his final round of thrusts. It has to be—you’re a few seconds away from collapsing or coming, whichever comes first. When Stiles moans your name in your ear, soft and high like he does when he’s right there, and he slides his hand down your stomach to rub firm circles on your clit, you’re happy it’s your orgasm that happens first. Your abs convulse a little as you twitch around him, and you curl in on yourself as much as you can with Stiles in the way. He’s not in the way for long. Growling, he shoves you back against the bed and mumbles, “Where?” after a few sloppy thrusts. 

You mewl as he keeps the pressure on your clit, reach for his wrist and try to pull his hand away, but he’s determined and you’re tired. You twitch and throw your head back, whimpering, “Inside,” before you can think better of it. It’s his fault, you’ll decide later, for prolonging your high with his mean, unforgiving, wonderful thumb. 

He’ll blame you, for feeling so perfect around him—for fluttering, and leaking, and trembling better than…anything he’s ever seen in porn, and he’s watched...a lot of it, so he’s a bit of an expert on the cinematic orgasm. “You’re so fuckin—you,” he shakes his head against your heaving chest and groans, “you’re everything.” And when he finally comes in you, you’re okay with taking the blame for something that feels so good. He manages a few more thrusts, and then he finally lets you pull his hand away from your cunt when he collapses onto his forearms, barely holding himself up from crushing you with his full weight. You’d tell him to roll over, but then he’d be over there and not in you, so you put up with the sweat and heaviness while your head spins. 

“Baby?” Stiles hums noncommittally in response to your soft prodding, and you smirk against the top of his head. All the smugness leaves you when you finally feel the foreign sensation of his cum leaking out of you. Shuddering, you kiss his hair a few times and scratch up and down his back lightly until he’s able to breathe normally. He pushes himself up onto his arms and glances down when he pulls out, staring for a moment at the way your pussy gapes a bit, watching the trickle of cum drip down your folds and onto the bed. He rubs his hand over his jaw and licks his lips, shaking his head—at a loss for words for the first time in his life. Your tongue is a little thick when you fill the void for him, “Next time, towel first.”

He finds it within himself to tear his eyes away from your cunt and gives you a crooked little grin, “Next time?”

You roll your eyes, but your grin is stupid with affection, “Sure, next time. Maybe. If you’re good.” 

It’s a little disgusting, the way he just rolls over and pulls you on top of him with absolutely no regard for the various bodily fluids sticking to your skin, but you forget about the unpleasantness of drying cum and cooling sweat when he kisses you. “I’m always good,” he huffs against your cheek. You shoot him a look, brows arched and eyes narrowed, and he smirks, “Okay, maybe not, but I’m always good for you.”

You nuzzle in a little closer and scoff, but it’s true. Stiles is so good, always—especially for you. “I guess you did manage to woo me. You’re very sexy when you’re talkin’ astrology, you know that?” 

He smiles, wide and happy, and wiggles his brows, “An absolute banger of an ending, right? I don’t think they could chart it in the stars without ruining your pretty face, but that’s probably for the best.” Stiles brushes his fingers over your lips when you let out a little questioning hum and takes your hand, growling playfully as he nibbles at your fingertips, “You’re mine. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this but me—definitely not horny little nerds with their telescopes.” 

You grin and bump your nose against his, “You’re a horny little nerd with a telescope.”

Stiles tips his head with a sly grin, and you already know what he’s going to say—it’s still devastatingly adorable when he whispers, “No, I’m your horny little nerd with a telescope.” 

Adorable enough to make you consider pulling him into the shower with you, and if the heavy-lidded look he’s giving you is anything to go by, you’d say he agrees.

[mysticallystilinski]

stiles being head over heels for reader and reader is scotts sister so she’s off limits but stiles can’t contain himself

can be smut or fluff whatever you’d like !! 🤭🤭

I’M TOO HIGH FOR THIS [ stiles x fem!reader ]

desc. MIXING WEED WITH EMOTIONS IS THE BEST SOLUTION FOR YOU AND STILES

has : substance use (weed), very in character stiles, hidden relationship, underage? smoking (under 21), heavy making out, undertones of sexual intercourse.

the rain was heavy and so were your eyes. it’s been 28 hours since you’ve last heard from stiles. your face was a pure mix of puffy eyes, from sadness and not to mention smoking.

a few minutes ago, you had gotten a text from your brother, scott. he had mentioned that stiles would be on his way to your house, and to keep the doors unlocked because he had forgotten his key. it will be any minute now that he comes barging through the door, and pinning you against the wall. at least, that’s what you would hope would happen.

being lost in your own trance of thoughts helped guide you from hearing the knock of your front door. the knocks kept repeating until your gaze turned away from the phone in your hand to the large door. you slowly moved up and off the couch, and slight pattered to the door. you couldn’t tell if the knocking was in your head, or really happening until the door slammed open.

you fell with someone’s body laid upon you. you started to giggle as he fell off of you. your head was in the clouds as you picked yourself up only to see stiles sprawled out on the floor. you could not stop giggling as he held out his hand for you to help him up. as soon as you gave him your hand, he pulled you back down on top of him.

stiles made you smile deeply as his arms wrapped around your body. he gave you a quick kiss, and then pushed you lightly off of him. your butt hit the floor as you started to laugh once again. “are you high?”, stiles questioned jokingly. “would that be a bad thing?”, you snickered. “oh god you are high.”, he laughed.

“do you have anymore weed?”, he asked. your face went from a giggly expression, to straight serious. “stiles stilinski, getting high for the first time?”, you questioned. “i mean, maybe, i just, i really wanna know how it is”, he stuttered. you smiled, “okay then, i have a cart for your first time. a joint or a blunt would get you too high”, you spoke.

you pushed yourself up off the ground, and lazily walked to your room. your hand grabbed the knob of the desk, and pulled it open. hidden in a bag was a few joints, and your cart with a battery. you pulled out the cart and headed back to the front door where stiles was still sitting.

“come on, get up stilinski”, you laughed. he got up off the floor, and took your free hand. you guys headed to the couch, and stiles immediately grabbed the remote for the tv. you gave him a smirk, “what? you just wanna watch star wars while high?” he squeezed your hand while they were still interlinked. he used the remote to put on hulu, and headed to the star wars section.

you twisted the cartridge onto the battery and clicked it 5 times to turn it on. you handed it straight to stiles as he was focused on the tv. you were nervous how stiles would react, but was also excited to see how he would act. “how do i even do this?”, he laughed. you grabbed it back from him and held it up to your mouth. you placed the cart between your lips, held the button and sucked in for about 7 seconds.

you did a quick ghost, and stiles looked very impressed. “okay, now your turn”, you said while handing it back over to him. the effects of your high were heightened as it hit you. you looked over at stiles and saw him hitting it, once he blew it out he started to cough. he hit it for a pretty long time, longer than any person would on their first time.

you already knew that stiles would be blasted, but you didn’t know to what extent. his coughing lasted about 30 seconds, but then wore off. your mind started to head in different places as you stared into the tv. soon, you felt yourself being shook by stiles, he had been calling your name as you zoned out. “y/n, i think it’s hitting”, he said calmly. his eyes were low, and seemed to be red in the low light.

“it feels like.. space”, he spoke. you guys both laughed in sync. stiles had felt like the world was spinning, just a bit. you were in some kind of trance as stiles was staring into the star wars universe on tv. you scooted closer to him as his eyes were placed on the tv. your hand slowly felt on his thighs, running up and down. he slowly turned his head to look at you, and started to nervously laugh. you went up to his ear, and whispered, “maybe we should play some music.”

your head was pulled away and he nodded. you grabbed the remote and changed the tv to spotify. your high playlist was on the recommended, so you placed that on right away. the first song to play was ‘She by Tyler, The Creator’. stiles gaze was placed upon the tv still, but you wanted to distract him. you grabbed his face for him to look at you. he smiled while seeing your sly smirk.

“sti, i want to do something”, you said while starting to feel some type of way. your body started to feel on fire as he nodded. he placed your body down onto the longer part of the couch. he then placed his body on top of yours, all while you leaned in to kiss him. the kiss was powerful, making you both feel even more horny that you have been. his dick got hard quickly as you grinded into the kiss. his tongue battled for dominance with yours, and he quickly overpowered you.

while feeling this way, it felt like you guys were in a dream. you could never have imagined making out with stiles stilinski while being high. after all, you were scotts younger sister, and he was stiles stilinski. tingles went all throughout your body as stiles hands found his way to your ass. ever since you guys took those dab hits, you were on each-other more than ever.

he slightly squeezed your ass and you whimpered into the kiss. you ran your hands up and down his back, making large scratch marks. he felt your nails dig into him which caused a load groan to emerge from his soul. he had been waiting for the chance to get you alone after his non-stop hanging out sessions with scott. you broke away from the kiss for a second, “sti, please take my shirt off.”

he got off you for a quick second, and grabbed the hem of your shirt. he lifted it off of you, which exposed your light pink bra. “can i?”, you motioned nodding to his shirt. “of course baby”, he smirked. stiles placed your hands on the hem of it and guided them to take the shirt off. his bare skin being exposed left you feeling in heaven. his abs we’re slightly creasing at the center, and his body was perfect.

you layed back down upon the couch. grabbing him by his shoulders, you pulled him down for skin-to-skin contact. your legs were now wrapped around his waist so that you could feel his boner poking through his pants. stiles looked at you for a moment, staring into your eyes, then smashed his lips on yours.

his lips detached from yours, and headed to your exposed neck. stiles fluttered light kisses all around your collarbone, and chest. he started to suck at the most delicate places, placing small love bites. he looked up at you through his long lashes and smirked at your expression. your face was in a state of bliss at the feeling. his body, to your body felt amazing. the high heightened all emotions by ten percent.

at once, the door slammed open. “stiles, y/n, i’m home!”, yelled scott. in an instant, you grabbed your shirt to cover yourself. “what the hell is going on in here?”, scott growled. stiles looked at you, you saw from the corner of your eye. you made quick eye contact with stiles, but then looked at scott. “and why the fuck does it smell like weed?”. you looked back and stiles, and smirked.

[murdrdocs]

WANNA RIDE STILES WHILE I WEAR HIS LACROSSE JERSEY MHM YEAH

WHYYYY WOULD U SAY THIS TO ME

just thinking abt like ... the way stiles would go absolutely feral. like he would go slightly insane. mouth open, lips still glistening from the messy kiss you'd shared with him a few moments prior, but his face has been frozen like this ever since he'd walked into his room to see you laid on his bed, wearing nothing but his lacrosse jersey, scrolling through your phone like it's the most casual thing that's ever happened.

the only thing that's changed is his eyes, consistently roaming over your body, flicking between your face which is scrunched up in pleasure, and your chest that he's forced out of the jersey, the material lifted up on one side, bunched over your shoulder. he's watching you through lidded eyes, similar to when he's tired, that same scrunch between his eyebrows, too.

his hands roam over your body, taking in as much as he can. calloused palms against the soft skin of your torso, running along your back, sliding down to your hips and around to press along your lower abdomen, making their way down to your cunt where he flattens his thumb along your clit, lifting the hood to gain better access.

he can't get enough, wanting more, wanting to do this again even when it's still happening in front of his face. he's trying to commit this to memory, he realizes when he's giving you possibly the hundredth full-body scan of the night. from your messy hair down to where you repeatedly sink yourself onto his cock.

his eyes get stuck there for a bit, not breaking away until he hears your breathless giggle.

"fillin' me up so well, stiles," you tell him, voice sounding pretty like it always does when you're like this.

the sweet sound of you – both your words and your cunt squelching around him – breaks him out of his stupor. he licks his lips, runs his thumbs along your skin, head spinning when you mewl as he rubs slow circles along your clit.

"yeah?" he asks you, even though he knows you're telling the truth, he can feel it. but he likes to see your almost pained nod, it fills his chest with pride, bolsters his ego. "feels good, honey?" another nod from you that makes him smile.

"'s that why you put that on? knew it would get you here?" his hands slide to your hips, his heels digging into the mattress as he slams up into you once, repeating the action at the sound you make. you don't answer him, it's not like you could, the breath taken from you just like the control was.

"hm? is that why you put my jersey on, laid in my bed in nothing else, waiting for me to get home." your hands press into his chest, fingers curling and your nails start to scratch at his skin. he takes a second, head tilting, eyes blinking innocently as he looks at you.

"that's kinda slutty, don't you think?''

[godjustkys]

| mndi +18

| Stiles Stilinski x Top male reader

please give requests.

"A-ah! Fuck! Oh fuck, f- mhhh!"

"C'mon, Stilinski, you can take it, hm?" You mumbled out, your hands placed firmly on his hips, thumbs grazing over his back dimples.

Stiles squirmed a bit under your touch, his legs shaking ever so slightly. "[Name], plea-se, 'm— I can't!" He exclaimed, shaking his head urgently.

After all that stupid pining from the both of you, you had him on all fours, naked, and on your bed. "Aw, don't give up so quickly.." You leaned forward a bit, getting closer to his ear.

"Ghh— shiiittt!" His nails dug deep into his palms, trying to hold his position steady. "Slow! Slow, please, go slow!" He raised his shaky voice a bit. Stiles was breathing heavily, his head still hanging low. Perhaps he was ashamed to look at you.

"I am, don't worry Stilinski, I ain't gonna hurt ya now," you said with a small chuckle, pushing your dick in deeper, going at a much slower pace per Stiles' request.

Stiles suppressed many noises that threatened to leave his mouth, trying to stay quiet. You were playing by Stiles' rules, since he's the one having it rough right now, but that didn't stop you from pulling out slightly and pushing in a little bit deeper at a faster pace.

Fuck. That thing you just did earned a loud whimper from Stiles. His back arched quite a lot and you were in such a great position to witness it.

"God, Stilinski," you breathed out, moving one of your hands up to the back of his neck then slowly running it down along his back as you simultaneously pushed your dick all the way in, now just letting Stiles adjust to it. "You've got one hell of a body," Stiles thighs were shaking as you murmured out compliments, but it soon calmed down because you let him adjust and get used to the feeling.

"And a pretty face. Aren't you just perfect?" And with that comment of yours, Stiles let out a shaky breath, unclenching his fists and taking a moment to relax.

"You ready for me to move yet, or do you want some more time?" You said in a smug tone, both your hands back on his hips. " 'm ready, 'm ready.. yep, you can- move." Stiles responded to you, his voice almost neutral, yet holding some urgency behind it.

" 'mkay," you grinned, pulling out slowly. Agonizingly slowly. "Tell me to stop if you wanna back down,"

As soon as you finished your sentence, you rammed back into him oh so harshly. Maybe you should've went easier but Stiles did say he liked it rough. "I g- Mmhhh! Ah! Fuck!" Stiles tried replying to you, but the way you slammed back into him felt so good, not to say that it didn't hurt at all. "Fuuuccckkkkk!" He moaned out, his voice sounding so sloppy and high pitched.

He grasped the sheets, his fists balling up. So far, your pace was pretty slow and gentle, not including the start of it. "How we doin' Stilinski, you feelin' good?"

"ngghh! yesyesitfeelsgood.. pleasepleaseplease—" he rambled out, placing his forehead against the mattress. "gofasterplease, [name], please." His voice was pretty quiet, quite difficult to make out what he had said. "Awh, use your voice, don't be shy," you teased in an amused tone, really taking in the sight in front of you. "What do you want me to do? I couldn't hear you,"

That was a lie, you most definitely heard him. You just wanted him to be louder - to hear his voice. Everything about him makes you more and more obsessed.

"Please. Go faster, pleaseee.." he whined out, his voice still high pitched. Was he a crybaby in bed? Oh god, the thought of that just turned you on even more. "There ya go," you exhaled, your tone so gentle as you quickened your pace by a lot, holding onto his hips tighter.

It was at this point that Stiles' arms had given out, his shoulders now on the bed as well. The only thing holding him up was you.

"You seem to be doing well, Stilinski, you likin' the position, huh?" You asked, your eyes fixated on the back of his head.

No genuine response, just some loud whimpers and moans.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that," you teased, pushing your dick in deeper with every thrust.

Nothing. Again. Just louder moans from your partner.

You let out a sigh as you pulled out, leaving Stiles confused at first. Then you flipped him over on his back, positioning yourself between his legs and continuing from where you left off.

Your hands were on either sides of Stiles, propping yourself up on the bed as you looked down at him. Stiles couldn't look at you, he was too embarrassed about this. He was going to turn his head away, but you kissed him so he had nowhere to go.

Your hands moved to Stiles's thighs after the kiss, holding onto them with a tight grip, pulling your lover closer when you thrust in. "Goh— od! Oh for fucks sake!" He cursed out, throwing his head back as his hands found their way to grip your shoulders.

Your hand wrapped around Stiles' dick and you started jerking him off. In response, your boyfriend let out a loud and such a slutty moan. "Fuh— fuck!" In response to the pleasure, Stiles' ass clenched around your dick. "Oh? You like that, don't you?"

Stiles' toes curled as he gritted his teeth. Soon enough he wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you in closer as you jerked him off and fucked him, at the same time. "Look at you, being such a good boy for me," you muttered out, thumb rubbing over his slit. You started fucking him harder, thrusting deeper. Soon enough, reaching his prostate. When you reached it though, it was pretty obvious.

His nails dug into your back. "[Name], oh god, wait! nghh!~" He sobbed out, arching his back. You looked at him with delight, grinning and hitting the same spot again. "Is that the good spot?" You teased in a gentle tone. He couldn't help himself. The amount of whines and whimpers that left his mouth was insane.

Stiles was a moaning and sweaty mess at this point, his words weren't even coherent and they were all slurred. He left pretty obvious scratches on your back during this. "You're takin' me so good, baby.." you breathed out, your voice a bit hoarse. "You're a sight for sore eyes, can't believe I get you all to myself," you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

"ghhhh, mmmfuccckk.. imgonna.. [name], [name] imgunnacum..—" he barely formed a simple sentence, clearly out of breath. "Go on then, do it," you encouraged him, leaving a hickey on his neck after you responded. Stiles grabbed a fistful of your hair, his dick twitching in your hands as he came and his ass tightening around your dick, the liquid spurring out onto his stomach, some of it getting on you as well.

"Good boy.." you muttered, your pace slowing down ever so slightly, just for a moment. Stiles was still whining and whimpering - he felt a little too overwhelmed after cumming like this and you fucking him.

"Shh baby, just hold out for a little while, okay?" You encouraged in a soft tone, holding back your groans - you were close.

He nodded urgently, biting his lower lip as his grip on your hair loosened slightly. Stiles made eye contact with you, finally. God, the look in his eyes made your dick twitch inside him, not to mention the tears he was holding back.

Of course it was a little painful, but you were doing your best to be gentle with him. Plus, he wasn't really crying, he was just teary eyed.

Your hands moved to Stiles' chest, grasping his pecs. "mggh.." a soft mewl escaping the other's lips. You squinted your eyes curiously, a sly grin spreading across your face.

With that, you pulled out, jerking yourself off til you came with a silent grunt. You didn't want to make Stiles feel so dirty for his first time with you..

[stilinskikisses]

| Stiles is so golden retriever x black cat |

Fanfic coming soon with this trope <3

xoxo layla

[drabblesofsmut]

So idk if you take requests or anything but I really like your teen wolf work and was wondering if maybe you could do a stiles x scott little sister reader smut where scott walks in during the act?

Stiles Stilinski | +18

Requests are open

Warning: dirty talk, being discovered.

★★★

You loved when he fucked you like this. This was you favorite position, being sat on his lap with his length deep inside you, moving up and down in little hops, feeling how he sank inside you when you went down.

“fuck, just like that, baby” he moaned, squeezing your ass and helping you to move. His eyes staring at you bouncing breasts.

“fuck, Stiles!” your nails digging in the skin of his shoulders. You were trying to be the quieter you could, Scott wasn't home, but he could arrive from work any time soon.

“god, you're so fucking pretty, I love having you like this, cock-drunk for me” he said hoarsely, his words made you moan

“only for you, stiles” you purred and kissed him.

His hands running all over your body, caressing each part, and squeezing on his favorites. Like your thighs, and your waist, and your hips. God, you drove him crazy.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the door opened, Scott arrived and neither of you noticed it since you were so into each other. Scott was about tu yell that he was home, but a weird noise stopped him. It was like a pounding against the wall.

He went up slowly and confused. Then he opened your room's door.

“STILES?!” he shouted. Stiles covered you with the mattress.

“Scott, get out!” you yelled back at him and he did so.

“what the fuck, guys?!” Scott was still recalculating what he saw. “she's my little sister, Stiles!”

Stiles looked at you nervous, “what do I do?” he whispered to you.

“nothing, just... Let me talk” you responded. “go downstairs, Scott”

“what? No! I won't let you alone”

“really? You kidding me?”

“okay, just... Come down”

“yeah, give us a minute” you said.

“I think you should dress up and go-” you interrupted him with a deep kiss, causing him chills.

You started moving your hips again, making him moan. “shit, baby” he breathed. “you'll be the dead of me”

You smirked, “he can wait a little bit more”

[sundrop-writes]

Sundrop's Teen Wolf Masterlist

Protective - Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 2, Episode 9. During Isaac's first full moon, he needs something to ground him - so he thinks of you. (2,300 words.)

BRAINWASHED - Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends/One-Sided Fantasies. Smut/PWP. Panty Stealing. Stiles has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and since you both hit high school, that love has become perverted by hormones. But he can't help it. He also can't seem to help it when he steals a pair of your underwear that were seemingly laid out for him - but he can't get too caught up in the logistics when he has a hand around his cock. (8,000 words.)

Eager Little Puppy - Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!GN!Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut/PWP. You offer to help Isaac relax, and it ends up being a night he did not expect, though he can't help but to love it. (2,700 words.)

Blood In The Water - Void!Stiles x Fem!Reader. (Pining) Best Friends to 'Lovers'. Pure Angst. Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1). When Void takes control, you worry about the damage that he's inevitably doing to Stiles's body. So you make a deal with him - if he lets Stiles eat, then you'll feed Void with some of your pain. But it's not cuts or broken bones that he wants from you - it's your tears. (11,700 words.)

Why Am I The One? - Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Smut. Set just post Season 3, Episode 4. After Issac is kicked out of Derek’s apartment with no reasoning and nowhere to go, he comes through a rainstorm soaking wet and finds his way to you. Freezing, alone, and looking desperate and sad - will you turn him away for cheating on you, or will you forgive him like you always do? (15,200 words.)

COMING SOON:

Stupid For You - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sequel to the above fic. Stiles still has your underwear that he stole, and he accidentally drops them in the locker room - in front of the entire lacrosse team. He lies and says that he got them from a hook-up with you, and surprisingly - you cover for him? But only on the condition that you can turn his lie into the truth. (10,200 words est.)

Mister Mxyzptlk - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Blurb

(Un)Intimidated - Derek Hale x GN!Reader Blurb

Claustrophobia - Isaac Lahey x GN!Reader Blurb

How would Stiles Stilinski and Allison Argent react to seeing you naked by accident?

How would Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, and Derek Hale react to finding out that you're pregnant with their baby?

How would Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, and Derek Hale act while parenting your baby?

What kind of nicknames would Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, and Derek Hale like in a relationship?

What would Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes think of you wearing a necklace that represents them?

Isaac Lahey Intimacy and Kink Headcanons

I'm not that good at this yet. - Isaac Lahey Playlist

[starboye]

pairing: stiles stilinski x male reader

request: hi!! i was reading your writing for a bit and i was curious if you could write a stiles stilinski smut?you can make the plot <3

warnings: smut, cursing, face fucking, oral sex

stiles was always the class clown, the funny one who was there to brighten everyone day but in his horny time of need he can become the most persistent fucker known to man, he'll grope your ass or rub his bulge across you just so you could get annoyed and take him anywhere more private to let him fuck you till he dumps a load in you and today was no different.

you get a notification from your phone and open it to see stiles texted you, you check the message and see a picture of stiles clothed bulge and a text saying "I need you" and scoff with a chuckle "I can't right now I'm in class" you reply and he is quick to text back "I don't care please come to the bathroom" the text read "stiles no" you reply "please please just this one time and I won't ask you anymore" stiles replies back.

you knew that was a lie but you decided if you could just get him to cum you could be back in class in no time so you asked the teacher if you could go to the bathroom and he let you, you walked down the hallway trying to find which one stiles was in and you soon did, hearing stiles call you over you walked into the bathroom and immediately get pulled into an empty stall where you're met with stiles lips crashing against yours.

"a hello would have been good" you joke "well then hello will you suck my dick" stiles says "fine" you huff dropping to your knees in the fairly clean bathroom stall and pulling stiles pants down to his knees watching in amusement as his dick springs out, a drip of precum falling from the tip "what's got you so horny" you ask "I thought of you riding me while studying in class" stiles says.

"oh really, tell me all about it" you say sinking your mouth onto his dick "well first you wanted to help me study but then you straddled my lap and started grinding on me" stiles begins telling while trying to not look you in the eyes as to not lose all train of thought "and then what" the say muffled by the cock you were currently throating "yo-you started making out with me and then it stopped, I woke up" stiles groans looking down and watching you take his dick so easily.

"we could definitely do that after school" you say panting after pulling stiles out of your mouth "no no don't stop" stiles says pushing you back down on his dick, you could feel his animalistic urges coming out and you wanted to take that further by taking him all the way down to the base with no gagging and looking him in the eyes, his eyes filled with hungry lust and your filled with a coat of tears but stiles holds back knowing he can't do everything he wants to you in a school bathroom.

you tighten your throat around his dick wanting to swallow his delicious cum, you place your hands on his thighs for stability and bobbing your head back and forth across his length, he grabbed your head and slammed his dick into you, constantly hitting the back of your throat before he empties his thick cum into your mouth, you could feel it overflowing in your mouth but you swallow it all down.

"fuck" stiles huffs falling back against the stall wall "we should do this more often" stiles says "never again will I do this" you deny getting up and wiping the dust from your pants, stiles pulls you into a quick kiss before fixing his pants "see ya after school" stiles asks "definitely, I wanna hear more about that thought you had in class" you grin before walking out of the stall and back to your class.

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m

[stilinskibaby]

PAIRING: stiles stilinski x fem!reader.

CONTENT: smut, choking, slapping, no condom, piv, oral (f receiving).

the first time stiles really gets a look at you, he's at a loss for words. his hands shake a little athey come to admire your skin. your tits fill his hands perfectly and you can practically hear the eroticism coming off him in waves.

when you finally take off the pretty red panties you wore just for him, he's breathless. your mouths slot over each other's perfectly and he moans into your mouth when your fingers ghost over his cock. he pushes your hand away and shakes his head, “while I can't wait for you to do that, and i really really can't. if I don't get a taste of your cunt right now, I'll become a starved man.”

your face and your cunt heated up at his words. quickly, you slid up onto the bed to give him enough room to comfortably lay down. his hands came gently down ont your thighs, separated to get to where he really wanted.

you'd never seen stiles like this, almost as if his eyes went dark right as he came close to your sticky cunt. his tongue licked a stripe up your folds and a whimper escaped you. it wasn't long before stiles began to lose himself in you. his hands held a tight grasp on your thighs to keep them from clamping down on his head.

he groaned as you struggled underneath him while he passionately sucked on your clit. your body was basically seizing under him from all the stimulation. he brought a hand up to insert a digit into your hot, tight pussy.

your legs came crashing around his head and he reveled in the feeling of you, your skin, you noises. he was a man possessed with his only motive being that he makes you beg for him to stop.

“more, more, please stiles, need your cock.” he smirked to himself, seeing you all unraveled just for him, for his eyes. this was his girl and he was gonna eat every part of this up.

he quickly and clumsily shedded himself o his clothes and came quickly to the bed. only to find that you have positioned yourself ass up, face in the pillows.

“that's my girl,” he groaned, large hands coming to grip your hops, perfect handlebars for the boy behind you..

he slowly inched his cock into your cunt, watching as it disappeared. the way your cunt felt, it was made to take his cock.

he couldn't help himself, pulling a hand back to harshly make impact with your ass, the sting only making you want more. your cunt clenched harder around his cock and it sent him into overdrive.

thrusting hard and fast in and out of your cunt. it still wasn't enough, stiles hand brought itself to your throat and brought your back against his chest. the asphyxiation was enough too make you come hard on his cock. and sent stiles over the edge too.

[marvelnatural4life]

I can’t with this man

[mysticallystilinski]

Can we get more high stiles content? Also love your work its genuinely makes my day 🫶🫶

faded on the beach

stiles stilinski x fem!reader

content : p n v sexual intercourse, no protection, underage (below 21) intoxication, public sex, slightly experienced stiles stoner

lav speaks: < hi! thank you much for loving my work; you’re too sweet! request as much as you want! more 🍃 stiles content ahead >

masterlist + taglist

-

lying on the blanket, you turned to face stiles as he applied his sunscreen to himself. he began to struggle as his back was the section needing lotion. stiles, baby, do you need help?, you giggled. no — i’m good, he grunted. it was funny to see him struggle at such a simple task.

ignoring his stubbornness, you dug in your bag for your weed. pulling out the blunt, and lighter, you placed both upon the towel. stiles eyes directed to the items on the ground, and slowly moved his eyes from there to yours.

are you thinking what i’m thinking?, he questioned.

you already know it. from then on, you took the blunt in your fingers, and slowly began to rotate it while evenly lighting the end. stiles eyes burned into your body as you burned the fire into the tip. he couldn’t deny it, stiles would fuck you anywhere he would if he could. the swim suit already left an impression on him as soon as you walked out of the house.

hey, y/n, when you’re done with that do you need me to help you with your sunscreen, he smirked. you couldn’t see his demeanor, but practically felt it pulse into you after those words came out of him. “yes stiles, only if you don’t mind”.

the tip was lit, and ready to be smoked. you shifted the weed from your position to your open lips, and took a long rip. it wasn’t your first time getting high, so you knew how much you could handle. stiles, on the other hand, could not really handle his weed.

after taking a few more hits, you handed the wood to stiles. without hesitation, he grabbed it from your fingers and took a puff.

stiles started to cough, all while not being able to handle the sensation in his lungs. god damn’ it, he managed to choke out. you giggled as your breathing started to become staggered. the feeling was a little hazey, but would soon intensify.

do you wanna take another? he offered. you slyly nodded as he passed the blunt back over into your direction. taking another hit, you locked eyes with stiles. an idea popped into your head.

you sat up onto your knees, and motioned for stiles to sit in front of you. stiles gave you a look of confusion before you filled your mouth with smoke and connected your lips together. blowing the smoke into his mouth, he pulled you closer.

stiles inhaled most of the sweet mixture of your lips and the weed, and delved into the kiss. pulling you onto his lap, you wrapped your arms around his neck, being careful not to drop the blunt. he pulled away to exhale, almost immediately out of breath.

god — you taste so good y/n

you blushed, stiles could make you feel that way with a snap of his fingers. those fingers have made you feel good so many times. let’s make it once more. you tugged upon stiles hair, interlocking your fingers within it with one hand.

you threw the roach upon the ground and placed the other hand on his back. your fingers traced circles, lines, anything you could think of all while he was thinking of fucking you. stiles mind was filled with thoughts of taking you right there on the beach. so why wouldn’t he?

stiles hand made his way from your back, to the hem of your swim suit bottoms. sti, stop teasing please, you groaned out. your head was already pounding with thoughts and waves of pleasure. you felt stiles long fingers make his way under the lace of the fabric, and quickly find your throbbing clit.

he didn’t hesitate.

the boy began to slowly rub his way through your folds, finding all the perfect spots in all the right places. you couldn’t tell if it was the intoxication, or just his fingers that made it this pleasurable. does it feel good? he slurred. you moaned out in a giggly response, giving a quick answer.

while delving through your folds, stiles took his other hand and brought it upon your chin. look at me baby. his eyes were low, and so were yours. it almost seemed as though they were glowing a passionate red. seeing the expression from your pleasure made stiles smirk. he got horny quickly, a bulge appearing through his swim trunks.

you know, you make me feel so good y/n, stiles groaned as he stuck a finger into you. blissfully aware, this caused your high to heighten. your mind was boggling from the fingers deep inside your pussy, plus the weed making it’s way into your system. please just fuck me already stiles.

stiles thought you looked so cute begging for his cock right then and there. you couldn’t tell from your eyes being closed in pleasure, but stiles was staring at every inch of you. your clothed tits, your beautiful body, your gorgeous face. he loved absolutely everything about you.

sticking another finger in you, stiles began to go faster as you continued begging him to fuck you. please, please, please, you repeatedly whimpered. abruptly, stiles removed both fingers from your soaked heat. tilting your head in confusion, you were about to protest until you saw stiles pumping his cock through his shorts.

baby — can i help you with that?, you pleaded. stiles eyes met yours as he slowly tilted his head back with his mouth open. incoherent moans slipped out of his mouth just before you decided to help him out. you moved closer to him, and pulled the slip of your bottoms off to the side.

aligning yourself with his dick, you slowly lowered down. a gasp came out from both of your mouths. stiles was still inaudible as the high kicked up a notch, and you couldn’t believe the blissful feeling. stiles was making you so slap-happy to the point of no return.

stiles grabbed the sides of your hips with his hands. knuckles white, he bounced you up and down on his cock. it was a mutual feeling of success and attraction. you couldn’t get enough of eachother. your eyes flickered from the back of your head, to make contact with his. to your surprise, he was already staring at you.

mouth open, heavy breathing, stiles was a moaning mess. the way you clenched around his cock made him closer than he ever was before. he was as deep as he could get, trying to fit all of himself inside of you. he swore he could see stars floating around your body – or maybe that was just the drugs.

i’m gonna cum stiles, you whimpered. his eyes pierced almost into your skull as you said those words. igniting a flame inside him, he proceeded to go deeper and faster. not to mention the pleasure on his end was incredible. he felt a wetness quickly approaching his covered cock as you covered your mouth to stifle your moans.

let me hear you princess.

you cried louder and louder. your eyes felt heavy as he practically pounded into you. you felt him release shortly after your orgasm was finished. streams of cum filled inside your pussy. feeling filled to the brim, you got off of stiles in a stupor.

your high slowly faded as you were placed on the blanket by stiles. he covered you up with a clean towel, and proceeded to start to pack up. stopping in his tracks, he asked:

so – do you still need that sunscreen put on?