#teen wolf x plus size!reader

[nobitchs-world]

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

[fandomnsfw]

Take Me Dancing -

Stiles Stilinski x Plus size!Reader

(Because my boy can dance 😭...fuck)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Prompt:

Warning: Smut! Stiles got a obsession with asses! Because in my mind he’s an ass man or legs man!

Description: Malia made you buy a dress you aren’t so comfortable in...she’s taking yes as an answer only. Grin and bare it you guess...until you finally got the boy you like to notice you.

ENJOY!!!

**********

However before you could change Malia bust into your room without so much as a knock, looking you over with a satisfied smile. You shook your head, your eyes widening as she grabbed your arm.

However before you could change Malia bust into your room without so much as a knock, looking you over with a satisfied smile. You shook your head, your eyes widening as she grabbed your arm.

“Nope! I need to change!” You screamed dramatically as she dragged you out your room with ease, god damn werewolf strength, your size clearly didn’t faze the wolfs when they flung you around like you were a size 6.

“Nope you need to get in the nice expensive car Peter bribed my love with.” Malia deadpanned as she opened the passenger door to her car.

“Malia I look like a big red marshmallow!” You screamed childishly as she was wrapping the seatbelt over your body clearly not taking any chances with you running back into your house.

“Stop. You look sexy and if he doesn’t see that, find someone better. I heard that Brett has a thing for curvy girls.” Malia supplied and you rolled your eyes at her words like she was lying through her teeth.

“You mean fat?” You supplied bitterly and she shot you the deadliest glare she could muster, her eyes flashing at you in warning.

“Listen to me now woman you look so fucking good so when we get there you’re going to get a drink, then we’re going to dance and ignore everyone else? Okay?” She demanded as we started pulling up to the loft.

“Fine. I do love dancing… also does Derek know we’re using his loft this time?” You asked with a raised brow as you stared at the glowing light coming from the loft.

“It was his idea since he’s away he said we could use it as long as we cleaned up and replaced whatever gets broken.” Malia shrugged as she turned off the car.

You stepped out of the car, looking down at the red, long sleeved wrap dress that came to the middle of your thighs and your black heels with a sigh before taking a deep breath. You put on your best fake confidence and linked arms with Malia who was in a plain tight black dress.

The second you walked into the loft your eyes widened at the sight of all the bright lights flashing on the make shift dance floor, there was a make shift bar in the corner too making you cheer happily. You dragged Malia to the bar in desperate need of alcohol to loosen you up.

You ordered your favourite drink, taking a few heavy gulps, your throat burning as it went down and you finished the drink and looked at Malia with a wide grin as she laughed at your antics.

“Happiness, ain’t something you sit back and ya wait for.” Selena Gomez’s voice sounded through the speaker and your arm shot in the air happily.

You cheered happily as you dragged Malia to the dance floor swaying your hips as you went, the beat rippling through your body as the body’s mushed together dancing along to the beat.

You and Malia danced closely, resting your hands on each other as you danced, getting lost in the beat. You were enjoying dancing, it had been so long since you felt this free you were shocked when someone started dancing behind you, their hands on your hips but Malia just nodded so you went with it, not looking who is was.

You could feel they were tall, their muscles pressing against your back and your best guess was Brett which made you laugh softly as you danced, he was a friend so you had no problem with it and you were very single. However since you never looked back, scared you’d lose your nerve, you couldn’t confirm it was Brett.

You danced for the rest of the song pressed against Malia and the unknown guy behind you until the DJ announced he’d had a request from someone called Stiles and your eyes widened as Stiles came to the side of you glaring at the guy behind you making Malia chuckle.

“Don’t mind if I steal Y/N do you? Of course not.” Stiles stated sarcastically as he drug you away from, who you now saw was indeed, Brett who looked beyond amused by Stiles as he continued dancing with Malia.

As Jason Derulo’s Take You Dancing came on you raised a brow at Stiles who just shrugged as he took you hand with a suggestive brow wiggle as he did a little bow, making you giggle softly. He suddenly spun you outwards before bringing you back into his chest as started grinding your body together his leg slightly between you leg.

“When did you learn to dance?” You chuckled awkwardly as you felt you face heat up being this close to the man you liked so much.

“Last year when I was living in Washington. I went to a few clubs and I met an older woman who took pity on me. She taught me how to dance telling me it was a waste that I had such a pretty face. She was an old dance teacher.” He huffed shyly into your ear before pulling away at arms length encouraging you to dance for him.

You shook your head at his confidence but for some reason it only seemed to boost your own. Right now the boy of your affections is showing you attention whether it was only for tonight or not, you were going to enjoy it.

“Well you do have a very pretty face.” You agreed casually, a mischievous grin taking over your face.

“So does Brett.” Stiles muttered childishly but you caught it, his words instantly made you feel elated.

“I prefer yours.” You purred in his ear as you rolled your body against his, his hand tightening on your hip as he pulled you closer, his forehead rest against yours.

“Wanna get out of here?” Stiles whispered, his hot breath hitting your lips as he spoke causing your breath to stutter so you gave him a nod letting him know you wanted to.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling you towards the loft door not caring who saw which shocked you but what shocked you more is he approached Scott his hand still in yours clearly not ashamed of you which made your eyes widen.

“Scott I’m leaving with Y/N can you get a lift off Lydia?” Stiles shouted from a respectable distance.

“Okay man. Use protection!” Scott shouted with a smirk and you flushed instantly.

“Fuck you Scotty! I know how to wrap up okay!?” Stiles shouted back his tone full of playful hate.

Stiles took out his car keys and dragged you to the elevator in the loft, pressing ground floor and as soon as the door closed you looked up at him and his eyes were flickering so quickly between your lips and eyes you lost track as he started bouncing in his spot like he always did when he was nervous.

“Fuck it.” He whispered before pinning you against the elevator wall his lips on yours, one of his hands cupping your cheek as his other rested on the wall at the side of your head.

He seemed hesitant to deepen the kiss so you ran your tongue along his bottom lip begging for entrance and he let out a husky groan, the sound going straight to your core. His lips were so soft and pliable it made you feel so confident and in control.

The elevator made a small rattle when it reached the bottom floor and you pushed him back, allowing your hands to drift down his abdomen as you pulled away. You walked out of the elevator swaying your hips as you went not stopping, even when your dress rode up your thighs, until you reached the jeep.

Stiles scrambled to unlock the vehicle opening the door for you, and you couldn’t help the smirk on your lips as you noticed his shell shocked expression. He practically ran to the drivers side of the jeep, hopping in the seat before slamming the door, his gaze drifting to you as he turned the keys starting the jeep up surprisingly easily.

“My p-place or yours?” He asked nervously earning a chuckle from you.

“Mine.” You answered easily knowing you didn’t have roommates or parents living with you so you’d be free to do what you wanted without worrying someone would be home soon.

He nodded shakily, his face flushing as he started driving towards your home barely 10 minutes from Derek’s loft. You were starting to lose your nerve as silence of the drive took over you, your anxiety spiking as you glance at Stiles’ jittery fingers drumming on the steering wheel of the jeep.

“If you’ve changed you mind you can just drop me at home and leave Stiles.” You offered softly and he looked at you in panic.

“Do you not wanna do this?” He ask in worry.

“Stiles I want to do this.” You snorted and he nodded suddenly relaxing against his seat as he pulled up outside your apartment block.

“I really wanna do this.” Stiles confirmed, making you smile at him happily.

Stiles got out the vehicle before running around to yours, opening it and holding out his hand for you. You took his offered hand and stepped out of the jeep gracefully. Stiles locked up roscoe with a nod before allowing you to drag him inside the build straight to the elevator.

You got out at the 3rd floor making your way to you apartment pulling Stiles with you, who had yet to say a word. You were nervous but you ignored it in favour for the excited feeling you had for having finally gotten Stiles’ attention. He was always too concerned with Lydia to notice anyone else at least until Malia but when that ended you were to scared to tell him how you felt, scared of rejection from this beautiful man.

You opened your apartment door, letting go of Stiles hand allowing him to come in at his own pace. However the second you closed you door his lips were on your again with more confidence this time, his tongue wrapping around your as he dominated every inch of your mouth. You moaned into his mouth, the sound clearly pleasing him because he let gripped your hair, that was tangled in his longer fingers, tightly.

He pulled away, his lips wet and swollen as he stared down at you with a look you’d never seen on him and you could swear he looked hungry. Your cheeks flushed as his hands tugged at your hair so you were looking up at him, not allowing you to look away from him as he pinned your gaze.

“This dress is sinful Y/N.” Stiles whispered darkly against your lips.

“It’s amazing what makeup and a short dress can do.” You chuckled jokingly but instead of a laugh he frowned softly.

“Let me rephrase that. YOU look sinful in that dress.” Stiles growled uncharacteristically assertive, as he started backing you up towards your bedroom.

“I’m seeing all kind of sides of you tonight Mr Stilinski.” You giggled as you slipped out of your heels once you’d reached your room.

“You have no idea baby.” Stiles growled playfully as he grabbed your ass, squeezing both globes with his hands earning a gasp from you.

“Then educate me Mr Stilinski.” You moaned softly, grinding against him teasingly.

“Hands and knee’s baby.” Stiles instructed with a smirk and you raised your brow challengingly before doing what he asked, crawling onto your bed before looking back at him over your shoulder.

“Good girl.” Stiles praised as he got onto the bed behind you, his hands sliding up your bare legs as he went until he got to the hem of your dress. He paused for a few seconds however before you could check on him a hand came straight down onto your thinly covered ass cheek making you jump slightly at the confidence Stiles wash clearly holding right now.

“Fuck you feel so good…” Stiles groaned as he clutched your hips, grinding his jean covered cock against your ass. You felt like he had all the control which was making you uneasy so you pushed back grinding your ass against him teasingly.

“You gonna fuck me or should I kick you out and do it myself?” You said with fake confidence as you looked back at him in a challenging way and his eyes darkened as they narrowed at you.

“Well I was gonna be nice and take my time but clearly you’re too impatient, huh baby?” Stiles taunted seductively, his hands tugging your dress over your ass exposing the thong you had on and all you could do was moan in response.

His hand came down onto your lace covered ass earning a louder groan of pleasure from you, pushing your ass against him once again. He moved back a little on the bed making you look over your shoulder to see his stripping off his t-shirt leaving you to stare at him and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were drooling as your eyes flickered up and down his body.

“Fuck…” You moaned as he started pulling his cock out of his jeans.

“I intend to kitten.” Stiles chuckled darkly, a smirk taking over his face as he took out a condom from his back pocket.

He tore the packet open with his teeth before slipping the condom onto his rock hard length with slow movements clearly knowing him touching himself was effecting you. He suddenly pulled down your lace panties down your thighs and instead of his cock his tongue was on you in seconds.

“Sh-Shit! S-Stiles!” You moaned as his tongue pushed into your wet entrance.

“Mmm you taste good baby.” Stiles groaned against your fold earning another moan from you.

Your breathing was beginning to quicken as as tried to resist pushing your pussy against his face. Your hands gripped the cover as below you your moans growing louder the more the coil in your stomach built up. stomach started building with every lick and nibble.

“One of these days I’m gonna have to have you sit on my face and ride my tongue.” Stiles teased as he pulled away as you were about to cum.

You wanted to complain about him pulling away but his words stopped you. That meant he wanted this to happen again and the thought of that turned you on even more especially when the imagine of sitting on Stiles face popped into your head.

“P-Please…” You pleaded breathlessly.

“Please what baby?” Stiles taunted as his right hand slid down your spine, pushing your head into the bed roughly.

“Please fuck my pussy Stiles…I need your cock.” You moaned desperately against the covers beneath your face.

“Such a good girl for asking no nicely.” Stiles praised into you ear before pulling away.

You felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance and before he could slowly enter you you pushed back onto him, taking his full length the stretch leaving a burn but you reviled in it. You heard Stiles curse behind you so you looked behind you to see his eyes closed in ecstasy and the sight made you clench around his member.

“Well here’s me thinking you were a good girl…looks like I’ll have to punish you.” Stile growled as he bent over you body, his lips brushing against your ear as his cock pushed into you as deep as he could go.

“Bad girl.” Stiles whispered and if that wasn’t the dirtiest two words you’d ever heard in your life you didn’t now what was.

It effected you that much you came around his cock and he lost it, pounding into you so suddenly you let out a scream from the over sensitivity but he kept mercilessly fucking into you. His cock was bigger than the very little amount you’d seen and it made you feel full to the brim. He pulled back again too watch you fall apart beneath him.

His thrust started getting more frantic as you felt him sweep up bigger inside of you, knowing he was close you started pushing back against his cock meeting his thrusts, your ass bouncing off his hips. His eyes never left your ass, almost like he was mesmerised but what shocked you more was when he stopped thrusting to watch you continue you fast harsh bouncing on your ass.

“Fuck…your ass looks so good…that’s it baby finish me off…maybe I’ll let you cum again.” He moaned huskily, his eyes never leaving your ass.

You moaned at his words but started practically twerking on his dick like you were a needy porn star and Stiles couldn’t get enough of it. You felt yourself building for the second time but you held back until you finish Stiles.

His moans and grunts of pleasure filled your dark bedroom as you worked to finish him off. This was the hottest sex you’d had and honestly even if this ended up casual you thought maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hey eyes on me kitten. I’m close…” He groaned demanding my and you obliged happily your y/e/c eyes boring into his amber ones.

“Cum for me Stiles…” You moaned dirtily as you sped up you hips, your eyes never leaving his as you did and then he threw his head back and let out the sexiest moan that sounded almost like a growl.

“F-Fuck.” He stuttered as he thrust into you desperately a few more times before coming to a stop.

When he started pulling out you figured that was it but suddenly he rolled you over and started eating your pussy like it was his favourite snack. Spreading your lips, he licked and sucked at your clit, making your legs shake as you came closer to your end.

Two of his fingers were thrust inside of you before you could even comprehend what was happening, curling up to press against that special spot. Your toes scrunched up and he starting moving his finger across that spot as he tongue sucked on your clit and you came with the loudest noise you ever made as you felt liquid literally gush out of you.

“Stiles! Fuck I’m still cumming!” You cried out as he continued thrusting and sucking.

“Shit…I was gonna finish you off and then cuddle but now I’m thinking I wanna do that again as you finally stopped cumming.

“Y-You’re gonna have t-to give me a minute Stiles.” You stuttered as you tried to stop you body twitching.

“Fuck I’ve n-never cum that hard in my life.” You whimpered your mind drifting.

“Baby you didn’t just cum you fucking squirted. I thought that shit only happened in porn. Yeah no can’t wait sorry babe.” Stiles exclaimed darkly as he delved back down and started back up his finger back inside of you rubbing at that spot all over again.

******

After two more times cumming Stiles fucked you again and it must’ve been about three in the morning when you finally both collapsed from exhaustion. He laid next you staring at the ceiling as you did the same, his breathing coming out in puffs of hot air.

“Best…” Stiles huffed out, his heart racing still.

“Sex…” He added his voice rough from the hours you’d spent in your bedroom.

“Ever…” He finished with a satisfied grin and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Yes it was…very surprising considering I’m not a petite red head.” You joked and Stiles didn’t seem to like that because he frowned at you.

“I wanted YOU not HER. Otherwise I’d of shown HER my improved dancing skills however I didn’t I came to YOU. Because watching Bretts hands all over you was torture and if he wasn’t a giant meat head wolf I’d of punched him for touching you— He sat up to look down at you, showing you everything he was saying was the truth and you couldn’t believe what was happening…Stiles…the man you have wanted for so long…is confessing to you.

—I’ve liked you for a long time Y/N and I never made a move because I figured someone so sexy and full of sass would want someone like Derek Hale or Brett Talbot…a manly big man who can sling you around…not some skinny hyperactive boy that has little experience with girls and even less with women.” He stated seriously and you sat up to look him in the eyes.

“I like you too…I have for a while tonight was about either getting your attention or moving on for good…” You replied softly and his eyes widened.

“You had my attention already…I wish I’d said something sooner…” He whispered sadly and you shook your head.

“This was the perfect moment. We both felt ready enough to make those moves and we finally pulled our fingers out…well you did.” You jokes at the end and he started laughing as he pulled you into a kiss.

“You know people are gonna call you names if you’re seen with me…I’m a big girl Stiles…” You stated sadly as he pulled away.

“No you’re perfect. Plus real men like a little cushion for the pushing baby. Ask Hale he’s always staring at your ass, fucking just as creepy as his uncle sometimes.” Stiles snorted as his eyes narrowed at the mention of Derek.

“One, cushion for the pushing really? That saying is outdated and some people take offence and two, Derek? Really? Hmm strange I never noticed.” You mumbled sceptically.

“Yeah well if he does it again I’m gonna rip HIS throat out with MY lovely human teeth.” Stiles grumbled against your neck, nibbling on yours neck as if to prove it somehow and the though made you chuckle.

“So possessive MR Stilinski.” You gasped playfully.

“Damn right. You’re my woman.” Stiles growled before he started sucking on the skin under your ear.

“I like the sound of that…but you know what I like the sound of more?” You moaned softly.

“What’s that baby?” He asked, his voice full of dirty promises.

“The sound of you fucking me.” You purred seductively making Stiles jump into action. This night couldn’t of been more perfect.

[wdwmarveldisney]

Thought of you

Stiles Stilinski x plus size!reader

Summary: You saw the hoodie and thought of Stiles so you got it for him. The only thing is you got it a couple of sizes too big

Masterlist

A/N: Okay so I finished school the other day and I wrote myself a little comfort fic that has not been proofread but I love it

GIF isn’t mine

After folding the hoodie neatly on the bed, you rushed over to the chair at Stiles' desk to act like you were doing something normal. You spun in the chair, scrambling to get your phone out as you heard his footsteps on the stairs. He was typing away on his phone when he walked in, walking straight to you to place a kiss on your head before moving to sit on his bed. He paused when he saw it, the red hoodie with some writing on the back and a weird symbol on the front. He dropped his phone onto the bed, picking it up to spin it around repeatedly. Finally he glanced to you, seeing you look away a second too late. He frowned turning to you and holding up the hoodie like he didn't already know, "What's this?"

You looked up, pulling your thumb away from your lips for a few seconds as you scanned the piece of clothing, "A hoodie," your thumb was back at your lips as you bit your nails, eyes fixing nervously on your phone screen. A smirk made its way to his lips as he scanned you, "For?" You stared at your phone for a couple of seconds before sighing and putting your phone on the desk. Spinning side to side in the chair, you refused to meet his eye as you spoke, "You. I saw it and thought of you so I decided to get it," His smirk got wider and he chuckled, making you throw a book next to you his way. "Hey, I'm not laughing at you," He chucked the hoodie onto his bed, walking over to you, "I just think it's cute," He placed another kiss to your forehead, pride filling him at the blush on your face.

Glancing back at the hoodie however, he frowned, quickly checking the size. You seemed to cave into yourself as you waited for him to bring it up, "It's like two sizes too big," When he looked back over to you, he must've mistook your embarrassment for getting his size wrong since he simply shrugged, "It's okay. We can return it and get the right size," You took a deep breath, which Stiles noticed and he looked over with his brows knitted together in confusion and worry. You still refused to meet his eyes, picking at your nails instead, "Actually, I picked out that size on purpose,"

"You did?"

"Er, yeah. You see, I kinda, well, I tried on one of your hoodies like last week and well, it didn't, you know," You paused, trying to use your actions to best convey what you meant before you huffed, "Fit. So I got you one so that I can steal it," Your face couldn't of felt hotter than now and you stared at your swaying feet, waiting for him to say something. You didn't see him grin at the idea of you in something that's his before it fell when he realised you hadn't come to talk to him straight away when the hoodie didn't fit you. He wondered if you felt like you couldn't tell him, whether he did something to make you feel that way.

You looked up to see him staring down at the hoodie with a troubled expression and took it the wrong way, "It's totally fine if you still want to take it back. I would. It's probably a bit weird, isn't it? You know what, it is weird. I'll-" The laugh you gave was so faked, Stiles felt his heart lurch. Immediately, he began frantically shaking his head, rushing to kneel in front of you so you couldn't avoid his eye, "No, hey, I love it. I think I'm going to take my broke self to get thousands more and not just hoodies but flannels too, god you look great in a flannel. But that's not- anyways, I was just mad, at myself not you, that you felt like you couldn't tell me so we could go together, you know?"

"I felt like I could tell you," You now played with his fingers, hearing his soft scoff and looked to see his frown, "Yeah, that's why you came straight to me," You shook your head, fighting a smile at the sarcastic quip that brought you comfort. There was nothing more Stiles than that, it made your heart swell. "I was going to, I was. I just talked myself out of it. It's just a stupid thing and there was no point bringing it up if I could do this instead and completely avoid the problem until it eventually goes away,"

"Don't use my advice against me,"

"I just, I didn't want to tell you to worry you 'cause that's what you'll do," Stiles shook his head, watching you play with his fingers that rested on your knees. You glanced to meet his eyes, a small smile on your lips and you lifted one of your hands to run through his hair, "Wanna try it on?" He quickly raced up, which made you laugh, and threw the flannel he was wearing to the bed before putting it on with a large smile. It was different than normal, that is that normally they were more tight fitting and the sleeves on this one went down to like halfway down his palm. That didn't mean he didn't like it, he loved it. You thought of him when you saw it and you could steal it and he could take it back when it had that lingering smell of you there. It was perfect in his eyes.

"I love it," he held his arms open and you laughed at the way the sleeves drooped but still clambered up and fell into his arms with your own going around his waist, "'m glad. Gonna steal it by the end of the week though,"

"I'll wear it everyday until you do," he placed a soft kiss to your lips. In that moment, you both couldn’t help but think of how much being in each other’s arms meant, how much the other meant to you. Slowly, Stiles lead the way to his bed, pulling you to lay next to him with your head on his chest and his hands in your hair. This was all perfect. He had never so thankful for a hoodie before.

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 69: Negotiations and Blame

Liam, Lori and Sam rush down the tunnel turning a corner only to come up to a fork in their path.

“Which way?”, Liam asks Lori. “There’s gotta be something. Did he leave anything for you to find, l-like a signal, or more rocks?”

“I don’t see anything… I don’t hear anything.”, Lori worries. Liam gives her a small reassuring smile. “We’ll find something. He’s gonna be okay.”

“How do you know?”, Lori asks him with glossy eyes.

Liam looks for an answer. “'Cause–‘cause he’s strong. He’s really strong. He’s knocked me down on the lacrosse field more than once. Now, when I see him coming, I do everything I can to get the hell out of the way.”

Sam smiled at him before closing her eyes to feel for bodies. Once she feels a heavy presence, she turns to the path that's closest.

“Brett actually started playing lacrosse for me.”, Lori tells Liam as they follow Sam. Liam looks at her with a confused expression. “For you?”

She nods, “I didn’t have any friends at my old school. Devenford Prep needed lacrosse players, and Brett practiced all summer. And he got a scholarship and told them that they had to take me if they wanted him.”

Liam places his hand on her arm. “Hey, we’re gonna find him.” He looks at Sam who looks back at him. "Found something.", she says and leads them down the path.

As they walk further, Liam's face scrunches. “Do you smell that? It’s… it’s sour.” Lori nods. “It smells like something’s rotting.”

“I think it’s poison.”, Liam says, making Lori smile. “That’s how we’ll find him.”

They take off further down the tunnel, crossing more and more paths. “They all look the same. Are you sure we’re going the right way?”, Lori asks Sam. "I'm feeling someone's body. They're alive, but…", Sam says.

“This is her power. We're gonna need it as much as we can.”, Liam reassures. Lori sniffles. “I hate this scent.”

Liam stops the girls, coming to a freeze. “Wait. I hear something. It sounds like…”

“…a heartbeat,” Lori and Sam says and they follow the sound as it gets louder and louder.

As they come up to a wide area of the tunnels, they see a body leaning up against the wall near some containers. “Brett!”, Lori exclaims, speeding up to the body.

Brett turns to her with a grimace of a smile. “You found the rocks.”

“Yeah, I found the rocks.”, she tells him as tears of relief prick at her eyes. The other two come up to the siblings and Brett looks up to them. "It's you guys…"

Sam nods at him and Liam kneels near them. “Hey, we’re going to get you out of here.”

Brett tries to give Liam a smile but the blood exiting his body makes him seem like he's wincing instead.

As Lori and Liam grab his arm to pull him up, Brett looks at him. “You’re a dumbass for doing this.”

Liam smirks. “Oh, is that your way of thanking me?”

Brett lets go of his hand and scoffs. “No, that’s my way of calling you a dumbass, but… thanks.”

Before Liam could respond, he pauses at the sound of Sam's growl. He turns to her to see her back facing him.

Her heart raced. She knows the sound of a rumbling engine. Someone was here.

Liam makes a noise and steps forward, his face softening “Sam?”

Sam looks to the side as she feels footsteps. “Get Brett out of here.”, she says. 

“What? Why–”, Liam gets cut off as Sam lifts up a shadow barrier, blocking a canister from being thrown towards them, but the smoke from the can quickly fills the area. "Go!", Sam yells. Before they could move, all four werewolves covered their ears as the familiar sound of Argent’s emitters started going off.

“They’re coming.”, Lori bellows. Liam looks at Sam. “Go with them, I’ll hold them off.”

Sam looks at him with wide eyes. "Are you insane!?" Liam doesn't respond but shoves Sam toward Brett and Lori. “Just go!"

"Liam!", Sam yells but Lori grabs at her. "Let's go!", she yells before grabbing her brother's arm. Sam takes the other and drags him down the tunnel.

Making it easier for the girls, Sam helps Brett float with blobs of her shadow and moves the two faster to a ladder ahead. 

Lori reassures her brother. “Hey, we’re almost out of here.”

Lori and Sam help Brett up the ladder to move the manhole cover. He peeks around before exiting the manhole and Lori follows upward. Sam turns as she hears footsteps, ready to fight but relaxes as she sees Liam.

"You're okay.", Sam says but Liam shakes his head. “It's a trap. No one's down here–”

The sound of car tires rumbling above the tunnels could be heard above, making their eyes widen as they look to see Lori finally escaping the manhole. “Shit…!” 

Liam starts climbing up the ladder. “Lori, come back!”, Sam yells, following him.

“Lori, wait!!”, Liam climbs up faster but before he could reach the opening, a screeching sound stops them as they hear two thuds.

Liam's nose flares in anger as he climbs faster. "Liam, wait–!", Sam calls but the boy launches out of the manhole with a loud growl.

Liam roars, his pain and anger reverberating into the night air. Sam climbs up and peeks to see a crowd of people gathering.

She looks at him with wide eyes. “Liam, shift back now!", she exclaims. "No!", he roars. Sam feels her phone vibrate in her pocket and she takes it out to see a text from Lydia. 

Lydia - Nolan attacked Corey in the library, stabbed him in the back of his hand! in front of people that SAW HIM HEAL RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEIR EYES

What the hell was happening….?

Before she could put her phone away, she felt someone grab her foot and jolted. She looked down to see Scott looking at her with wide eyes.

"Where's Liam?", Scott asks. Sam frowns and looks up. "They're all on the street.", she says and his eyes widened.

“We have to get out there!”, Malia asked.

Sam shook her head, much to the other two's surprise. “It was a setup, Scott. I can't tell if they're actual people or hunters but Liam's up there pissed...shifted…”, she said, trailing off.

“What else happened?”, Malia asked. Sam gives the two her phone, waiting as they read the text and their eyes get even bigger.

Scott's eyebrows furrowed. “Why would Nolan want to hurt Corey?”

“I don't think he was trying to hurt him. I think he was trying to expose him.", Sam said looking at him. "The hunter used the fog and the emitters to probably corner us or to get us to go up this ladder to be exposed too.”

“But why, what’s the purpose of it all?”, Scott asks. Sam frowns at him. "They're toying with us. They're making people afraid of us and giving reasons for us to be killed."

Scott's shoulders sag in realization.

However the next day, they decided to go back to the tunnels.

Sam looks at Scott. “Liam doing okay?”

Scott nods, giving a small smile. “He’s going to go to school.”

She tilts her head as if she didn't hear him. “Excuse me, what?”

The girls look at him to continue and he does. “Yeah, I told him he needed to be like Clark Kent and pretend like nothing happened.”

“I'm sorry, did you forget that he wolfed out in front of a shit load of people and roared at them? That's enough to let anyone know he wasn't human. Not only that, the shitshow with Corey just adds onto our problem pile. If they saw what happened to Corey, what makes you think news about Liam won't come out?”, Sam asks.

“They won’t do anything to him because no one has proof," Scott shrugs. "I mean, it was nighttime and who’s to say that anyone saw anything?”

He walks over to the tunnel with Malia following behind her. Sam gives Lydia a look who returns it with a knowing nod. The two ahead turn around to see the girls unmoving. 

“I don't know about you, Scott, but I'm pretty sure you're not sure.”, Sam says. The reassured look on Scott's face drops. He sighs. “Look, he's taking Brett and Lori’s death really hard…”

“So are we.”, Lydia speaks up. Scott frowns. “We are because they were great kids who didn’t deserve that, but we didn’t know them like he knew them. We’re trying to save lives, which is why he needed to go to school and pretend like nothing happened, because if he doesn’t go, more people could die.”

Sam frowns. "No one's there to protect him or Corey. Mason can only do so much. If we're not there… I don't know…", she says, worriedly. Scott frowns sadly. "Sam…"

She looks at him, nearly trembling. "I let two people die when I could've helped. If Liam had died and I had done nothing, I don't know what I would do. It's like it won't stop. Almost everyone we know has either moved on or has been murdered and I'm sick of it, Scott.”

Scott walks up to her, bringing her into a hug. “We're gonna stop them, okay? Then we'll have our lives back. We always do.”

Always…

It never lasts. Ever. Everytime they look up, they have to find something and fight. It wasn't fair.

Sam lets out a sigh anyway. “Okay.”

Scott lets go and leads them down to the Argent bunker. Once they arrived, Chris turned to them, having to wait and asked for info on the night before.

Scott drops a lacrosse stick onto the table they stood around. “They were murdered. Killed by the new hunter in Beacon Hills.”

Sam looks at Chris. “I know you said you were done hunting or that you haven't done any hunting in a while, but the hunter that killed that Hellhound…I thought it was just a coincidence. But these methods from last night were too thought out."

Chris nods, looking shameful. “Gerard.", he says, making the teens' eyes widen. "Which means this is my fault. I’m the one who let him go.”

“You couldn’t have done anything.”, Lydia said. Malia shakes her head. “He could’ve killed him.”

The other four frowns at her. Malia shrugs. “Just saying…” Though, no one could blame her. It was a validated thing to do at this point. The man needed to be stopped.

“We are not executioners.”, Lydia scolded. Malia turns to her. "You are when it comes to war.”

“That’s why we’re gonna make peace.”, Scott says and Sam frowns at him. “Peace? With Gerard? Who made you help turn him into an alpha? Who threatened your mom? Are you sure we're talking about the same person?”

Scott leans on the table. “Sam, you know as well as I do, what's coming. It all leads back to–”

“War.”, Chris concludes. Sam frowns at the man. “Okay, so what stops a war from happening? A compromise?”

Chris nods. “A peace summit.”

Scott agrees. “Right. We meet face to face with Gerard, find out what he wants, and then we stop all this before it gets any worse.” 

Scott muttered. “Last time Gerard was at a peace meeting was with Deucalion… he blinded him and then killed everybody else, including his own men.”

Chris turned toward the teens. “I’ll go. I mean, he’s not going to kill me.”

Sam frowns at him. "I recall his words being, "I'll kill my own son if I have to", or something along those lines. You have too much faith in him."

Chris gives her a small smile with a shrug. She had a point. “All we need is to find out what he wants, then we can bargain.”, Scott says. Chris frowns once more. “Even if he does agree, his terms might be difficult to meet.”

Scott shrugs, looking at them. “Well, that’s why it’s a negotiation. I don’t expect to get anything without giving something up."

Chris thinks for a moment before speaking up. “Then you’re gonna have to figure out just how much you’re willing to give, and how far you’re willing to go to stop a war.”

After Chris went to meet with Gerard, Liam informed Scott about his time in the guidance counselor’s office. He mentioned seeing scratches on Tamora Monroe’s neck and saw books about the supernatural on her filing cabinet. 

When he asked how she got the scratches, she said from a branch in the woods when she was running. He pressed her with questions, only to come up with one conclusion. She had to be the new hunter.

Sam frowned when Scott had told her what happened. "What?", he asked. She shook her head. "I dunno. That name just sounds familiar. My mom talked about this girl she named "Tammy" because apparently she's been a regular lately."

Scott frowned at this new information. The only thing they could do was inform Chris of the information. As they walk up to the McCall house, they pause at the voices of Chris and Melissa discussing.

“As far as I can tell… genocide.”, they heard Chris say.

Scott and Sam look at each other with wide eyes. Melissa scoffs. “He just wants to kill them? All of them?”

Chris sighs. “If you’re looking for rationality, I think he left that behind a long time ago. In his eyes, Scott has killed half his family, turned his daughter into a monster, and turned me, his only son, against him.” 

Sam nods at Scott, agreeing with Chris. “So, I’m supposed to just tell them to give up?”, Melissa asked.

“I’m not asking them to give up. I just want them to survive.”, Chris presses.

Melissa forces out, “I’ve never told those kids to run and hide, and I’m not going to start now.”

Chris counters back. “Melissa, Sam was barely able to control her powers last year and almost lost her life because she was overworking herself. I can't imagine what my father would want with her. And Scott, he was dead in your arms once before, and you had to bring him back yourself. What if this is the one fight they don’t come back from?”

Before Melissa could respond, the young adults walked in. “There doesn’t have to be a fight.”, Scott says.

Chris sighs and looks at them. “Do you two know something I don’t?”

Scott lifts up his phone and shows him Liam's text. “Someone. Tamora Monroe… she’s the new Hunter.”

After discussing with Chris, Sam went home to see her mother look at her worried. Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?", Sam asked.

Denise took a breath before standing. "You'd tell me if something was happening, wouldn't you?", she asked her daughter. Sam looked at her confused before realization filled her.

Something happened.

"What happened?", Sam asked, walking over to her mother. "Tammy came in today and had two other people with her. They were – they looked scared? I think? Like they were looking for something specific and then got upset when they couldn't find whatever they were looking for."

Sam frowned at the news. To see her mom in distress and to know that Monroe had gone into the shop…

It pissed Sam off. Sam settled her hands on her mother's shoulders. "Everything's gonna be okay."

Denise looked up at her daughter with glossy eyes. "How do I know that? How do I know you're not getting yourself into more trouble?"

Sam didn't know how to answer. She wasn't sure either. She didn't want to make any empty promises. Especially ones she couldn't keep.

She gives her mom a hug anyways. "We'll be okay."

A moment passed, and Denise had finally fallen asleep long enough for Sam to slip out of the house to go to Scott's house.

Once she walked in through the back, she saw Malia sitting on the couch, looking conflicted. "Where's Scott?"

Malia looks up. "He said he was going to meet with that Monroe girl.", she said. Sam frowned. "What the f -- alone???"

Malia nods, a sad look coming to her face. Sam softened, sighing. "He must've told you to stay back."

Malia nods again. "I just… I don't know how to tell him how I feel. About him, about all of this! It's… hard.", she says, dejectedly. Sam's eyebrows rose a bit as she walked closer to the werecoyote. "I think it'll get easier once all of this is over.", she says.

Malia looked at her. "How'd you do it? With Derek, I mean."

Sam's cheeks burned a bit as she stammers. "I – well, I can't say there was a lot of talking. I mean, we didn't really talk about it," She frowns as she remembers. "Now that I think about it, I'm starting to think I was doing a little too much talking…"

Malia frowned. "So we shouldn't talk about it?", she asked. Sam looked at her, shaking her head. "No, you two definitely need to talk it out. At least you'll have the chance to."

Malia let out a groan. "It's so complicated for no reason."

Sam nodded. "Welcome to life." She shakes her head. "Anyways, let's focus on the task at hand. I'm pretty sure even if he doesn't get hurt, we'll still have to get involved."

Malia looks up at Sam. “So we're not going to let him go alone?”

Sam frowns, "Hell no. Let's go get Lydia."

Malia, Lydia and Sam walked through the tunnels, quietly following the path towards the heartbeats they heard.

"She didn’t come alone.”, Malia muttered. Sam frowns, annoyed. “Of course she didn’t. This'd make this too easy."

Malia stops and looks at the girls. “There’s a guy armed with a taser gun around the corner.”

Sam lifted a darkened hand, but Lydia stopped her as they heard Scott's voice. “Trust me, he’s not the kind of person that you want to follow. He’s gonna lead you off a cliff.”

“Following me? No one here is following me, Scott. I’m merely an adviser.”, they heard Gerard. “This is because of you?”, Scott asks.

“That’s right. You’re negotiating with me, Scott.”, they hear Monroe taunt. Malia's small growl rumbles from her chest.

“Okay,” Scott sighs. “Tell me how to settle this. What do you want?”

“I want to see a werewolf beg for peace.”, Monroe tells him. Scott quickly agreed to her wishes. “Fine – okay, I’ll beg. I’ll–I’ll do whatever you want. Just tell me that we don’t have to kill each other. That we can find a way to make peace.”

Monroe lets out a chuckle. “That wasn’t quite what I was hoping for.”

“People are dying.”, Scott urges. Monroe counters him. “They’ve been dying. You only care now because it’s your people.”

Scott sweats. “You have to want something other than seeing us all dead. What if we leave Beacon Hills? All of us?”

“If you leave, we’ll follow you. We’ll hunt you down until every single one of you is gone.”, Monroe tells him. Scott frowns. “Some of us have actually been protecting you.”

“Don’t listen to him. He wants you to be afraid.", Gerard tells her but Scott argues back. “But you shouldn’t be afraid of us. We protect people. People like you.”

Monroe scoffs. “People like me? You don’t know anything about people like me.”

“So help me understand. Tell me what made you hate us so much.”, Scott pleads. Gerard found his begging entertaining. “I don’t think you want to press that button, Scott.”

Scott does so anyways. “Something happened to you, didn’t it? Something bad.”

A second passes before Monroe answers. “Bad doesn’t even come close. There was a faculty meeting that ran late one night. We were complaining about the new course rubric. I thought that was the worst thing I’d have to deal with that year. I was wrong. We all heard it, this sound coming out of the shadows. ‘Probably an animal’, they said, but not like anything I’d ever heard. When it moved, it moved faster than anything I’d ever seen. I saw teeth and claws, fangs… and then there was blood everywhere. I couldn’t believe I was still alive.”

The girls looked at each other with confused frowns on their faces. The beast hadn't been their fault to begin with. They were just as shocked to know about it.

“If one of us had been there…”, Scott sadly says, but Monroe cuts him off. “You were there, Scott. You, your friends, and the deputy. Don’t you remember?”

Scott doesn't say anything, so she continues. “Did you even think to check if anyone was still alive?”

Scott almost trembles. “I didn’t know–”

“You didn’t care.”, Monroe says. “How many people have to die so you could keep your secret? So your friends could carry on as if nothing ever happened? I was there. Lying under those bodies. Hiding and waiting for someone to finally find me.”

A moment of silence waves over before Monroe speaks up again. Malia and Sam's eyes widened at the clicking sound of a gun. “You shouldn’t have come alone, Scott.”

“He didn’t.”, Malia calls, and kicks the hunter with the taser gun in his chest, causing him to crash into the wall, watching as he falls down.

Sam's hair shines into a platinum white as she summons a large resin to stop the hunters from moving. Lydia stands behind her, arms ready to launch her screech if she had to.

Sam glares at Monroe as the hunters struggle to move. “I don't know why you think you're the only one to have gone through some terrifying shit. I don't know if Gerard told you, but we were teenagers when all of this started.”, Sam told her.

Scott looked at the girls. “We are not here to fight!”

Gerard smirks. “Well, then you came here to die.”

“We’re trying to protect you!”, Malia growls. Gerard looks at Scott. “You might want to control your Beta, Scott. She could get you all killed.”

Sam glares at Gerard, "You'd love that. There's something out there that's bigger and worse than you, Gerard."

“Something worse than supernatural cannibals?”, Monroe tells. The teens look at her and her face turns into satisfaction. “Yeah, I know everything now. Wendigos, Oni, were-coyotes… people being murdered as human sacrifices?”

“We weren’t even doing the sacrifices. If anything, we tried to stop them–” Monroe cuts Sam off. “And how many people lost their lives while you were trying?”

Scott frowns sadly. “Too many.”

“It was twelve!”, Monroe shouts. “There are people here who have lost their sons and brothers. And all that came out of an official report was an animal attack.”

“We lost people in those sacrifices too! But guess what, we still stopped it!”, Sam yelled, and walked up to her, only pausing when Scott grabbed her. “Us! We stopped it! Teenagers doing things the adults could've been doing! These past few years have been a shock as to why we even graduated, because we were too busy doing what you couldn't do.”

Monroe falls into silence, so Sam continues. “I never asked to get bit. I never asked for extra powers. I never asked to get beaten by his daughter," Sam points at Gerard. "Way before I got bit. He caused that. We never asked to be used as playthings to bring chaos into this city. We didn't cause this shit."

Monroe's face falters a bit. “We lost people. Kids our age.”, Sam says and looks at Gerard again. "He didn't tell you he'd almost killed his granddaughter just to get her out of the way."

Gerard remains stoic. "But who got her killed?" Scott looks down shamefully. Sam faces Gerard. "She died a hero. She died doing what your family loved doing. If she hadn't been trained to be a hunter, maybe she'd still be here.", she says, making Scott look at her with wide eyes.

Gerard raises an eyebrow. "And what of the Sheriff’s son? That poor innocent boy–”

"The poor, innocent, human boy who you almost beat to death because you couldn't get your way like a child?”, Sam asked, making Monroe's eyes widen. "Yeah, he's not here. He's living his life like he deserves."

Sam walked up to Monroe. "Actually, you should be thanking him if he were here, because without him, you'd probably be dead. He actually helped us take out every single thing that threatened this city including what happened 4 months ago."

Monroe frowned. "What happened four months ago?"

Lydia speaks up. “A Nazi Alpha werewolf from the 1940′s was chemically kept alive by these Dread Doctors who were responsible for bringing the Beast here. Things happened and he escaped the chemical coma, brought these memory erasing cowboys, who snatch people out of a city until the entire city is forgotten, only to be his supernatural army. They almost succeeded in making Beacon Hills a Ghost Town and you’re looking at the people, minus three, who stopped that from happening. However, unless you read up on the Wild Hunt in your supernatural research, you wouldn’t believe me.”

The hunters behind Monroe trembled, and their faces gradually turned fearful as they tried to look around the tunnels. 

“What's…”, Malia muttered to Scott, but he tried to plead with Monroe once more. “We’ve all been through horrible situations we shouldn’t have. We’ve all lost somebody and you wanna get revenge. I get that, but just listen to me. Something escaped the Wild Hunt–”

Lydia's scream shocks Sam, distracting her from the hold. “Scott – Scott, it’s here! It’s here right now.”, Lydia yells.

“What?”, Scott asked. Sam looked at her in confusion. "What's here!?"

They turned around to see a bloody, skinless figure standing behind one of the hunters near Monroe who gained her feeling back and aimed her gun at the figure. “Get down!”

Scott pulled at the girls down a different path of the darkened tunnel crouching behind a wall. “Hey, stop! Stop shooting!”, they hear Monroe yell. Scott mutters to the girls. “I think that thing’s making them panic!”

"What the hell even is it?", Sam asked.

Malia gets up, growling. "Malia!", the other three yell as she rushes at the figure, and when she slashes her claw at it, it didn't damage anything. It was as if her hand caused it to disperse into the air.

She looked at her friends in confusion. “What are we supposed to do now?” Before anyone could answer, they looked up to see a lit flare dropping into the tunnel.

Scott grows his stance into defense. “What is that?”

“Backup.”, Lydia grins as Parrish jumps from the open grate and lands near them, his eyes glowing bright orange as he roars deeply at the skinless figure.

[alexyskinnerstories]

The Mated Alpha’s | Alpha Derek Hale x Black curvy Fem!Alpha Mccall!Reader

*Y/n Pov *

I just got into town from staying with friends in New Orleans. Derek had called me a few weeks ago telling me that he and other wolves are needing help with a pack of alphas I immediately knew who they were going against Deucalion had tried to convince me to join his pack of alphas I said no obviously because I wasn’t dumb. I had dropped the children at Mom's and was about to pull up to my husband's living I stepped out of my car and looked at the building. I suddenly felt pain in my midsection I immediately knew my husband was horribly hurt I rushed quietly into the building as I made it in I could smell his blood it made me furious I parkour up some flights of stairs and ran to the door I slide the door open quickly to see Derek with a pole through his midsection I furious growl at them I walked over to Deucalion’s Bitch and she stepped away from Derek and growl at me try to get me to attack first I got close enough to Derek as I slowly pulled it out of him I help over to the corner of the wall so he wasn’t in the way of the fight was about to happen

I quickly got up and kicked her in the stomach as I heard her run towards me my kick send her flying across the room she landed with a loud groan.

I turned to “ The Blind man” also known as Deucalion I walked to him I was in front of him

Me: Deucalion didn’t I tell you to stay away from my family and to stop with this foolish pack of alphas

Deucalion: I was never gonna listen to what you told me about my pack as you can see it’s going well about this family, I don’t think you have any family here that is why I am here for that alpha over there, and another in town.

Me: oh my you’re such an imbecile they must fucked up your wolf senses because like my scent is everywhere in this place like take a great sniff of the place dumb ass

He took a deep sniff and finally got hit with the scent of the place tensing up I laughed and lend to him to leave with the little alpha bitch I lean back and dodged and weak attempt of an attack from Kali as Derek call out to me to watch out I grab her arm and smashed her head into the wall beside me she groaned and try to hit me I dodge again knocked her down with a backhand slap she finally stopped me and left with Deucalion

When I knew they were gone I went to Derek to see if he was alright he smiled and nodded he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his embrace I sighed and cuddle into his chest I told him that the children are with my mother and that we have time only for a couple of hours he smiles and pick me up over his shoulder and walked to our room I guess he got a bit hot and bothered when I was being mommy alpha as he likes to call it at times

[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.

...

Due to much pressure, not the sequel has been posted. I am fully of the belief that this fic is complete and perfect on its own, but if you would like to keep reading, click on the link below. I highly encourage you to leave a comment before you press on, though, and tell me what you enjoyed about this fic since you have gotten this far.

Happy reading!

Keeping Reading Here: Stupid For You - Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

can't fight the moonlight

kinktober, day twenty-nine

a/n: this one was a fantasy that was so fuzzy and took a surprisingly long time to figure out, but the hazy dream of it kept me going till i solved the puzzle

summary: it didn’t matter what you did or how hard you tried, you had no way of overpowering the beast the moonlight turned him into. 

warnings: werewolf!bucky barnes x reader, smut, bucky's wolf form is very humanoid looking (think more teen wolf, less twilight), dubcon/noncon, predator/prey, established relationship, monsterfucking, little to no foreplay, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, cock drunk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, forced breeding, belly bulge, size kink, size difference

word count: 2345

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“…and you’ve got some water in case you get thirsty and-, oh! Do you have something to eat? A snack or something?” you blabbered tensely as you helped lock the heavy chains that your partner snaked securely around his own limbs, bolting him to the cold basement for the night, “because I could go make you-”

Letting the iron in his grasp suddenly fall to the floor in a loud clang, like a volcano he exploded, “no!” heatedly throwing his hands up as he fumed, “I don’t need a fucking snack, would you just-…” catching your wide eyes, his sudden anger thawed a bit as he finally heard his own words, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you clutched your hands close to your chest, the keys tight in them dug into your palms.

Head lightly tilting to the side, Bucky let out a sigh, “you’re just trying to help and I’m-”

“It’s okay, I know,” you reassured him, “it’s the moon, I get it, don’t worry, darling,” you averted your gaze, staring down at the cold concrete floor, “I’m sorry about freaking out, like I do every month, but I just wanna do something that can make this better for you, even a little bit, anything, even though I know that there isn’t anything that can, I still can’t stop trying because I hate this,” you heard your voice grow thick and tears begin to blur up your vision, “I really really hate this.”

“Y/n…” you felt his fingers gently graze your cheek, bringing your glossy gaze back up to his, “you are helping, more than you even know. Before I met you, before you moved in and started being here every full moon, I was always terrified of getting out, terrified that I couldn’t detain myself enough and someone would end up getting hurt or worse… but I’m not scared of that anymore. It hasn’t happened once since you’ve been here to bolt the chains I can’t get to on my own and lock the doors from the other side. Plus knowing that you’ll be here when the sun eventually comes up, I hold onto that, no matter how painful it gets or how much I disappear, that fact doesn’t, it stays with me, keeps me somewhat sane throughout the night.” 

Letting out a shaky breath, you blinked away the mist in your eyes, trying to be brave as you uttered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he exhaled, gazing at you as you leaned in to seal the final padlock with a click. Getting up to your feet, you stepped towards the door, but your fingers froze on the knob as Bucky’s voice filled the cellar once more, “try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”

Glancing over your shoulder at his shackled frame, sitting against the wall, skin already glistening from the pending trauma, you promised, “okay,” even though you knew this night wouldn’t be any different from the rest. 

You could never sleep when the moon was full, never even relax enough to rest for a bit. Even though the layers of resources that encased the basement silenced Bucky’s screams of agony from the rest of the neighbourhood as well as your own ears, just the knowledge that only one floor below where you were trying to slumber, there your beloved laid in pain as every single bone in his body had to break before he could turn into a monster of the moon, that awareness kept you up better than any caffeine could. 

Locking the solid steel door behind you, so you repeated with the one atop the wonky staircase, the rest of the house suddenly feeling so cold without his presence. 

Still clad in garb you’d worn to work, you couldn’t bother to change out of it even if the dress and stockings weren’t the most comfortable clothing to do an all-nighter in, you just seized the grey cabled cardigan draped over the armchair by the fireplace and shrugged it over top.

Holding the kettle under the tap to fill it up, your weary vision locked on the ominous sphere looming in the night sky clearly visible from the kitchen window. Losing yourself to the sight, too absorbed by the troubling thoughts it brought on, you only snapped out of the trance when cold water began to flow over the side of the pot and soak your hand that clutched it. 

“Oh, shit…” you mumbled as you hurried to turn off the water and pour some of the abundances back out into the sink. 

Placing it down on the stovetop, you listened to the gentle clicking that emanated before the eventual flame as you turned the knob. The slight heat radiating beneath the kettle persuaded you to shift into the living room and with the flick of a match, light the fireplace, granting yourself more of that soothing heat to help battle the night. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the water came to a boil, kettle whistling like a demon to relay the message. 

With a mug of tea in your hand, you curled up in the chair by the fire and picked up the half-read book discarded on the small side table. 

This was the routine, even though you never could concentrate, you still at least tried to distract yourself. 

A sudden bang ripped your eyes away from the page they had glazed over four times by now. Your vision instantly trained on the door to the cellar, clearly visible from where you were sitting. 

As the door then began to rattle rhythmically from an unyielding force, your body jumped at every thud, the novel in your grasp tumbling to the floor. 

Frozen in your seat, you watched as the door splintered, swiftly losing the short-lived battle and flying off its hinges.

With heavy footsteps, Bucky’s visage stepped into the light, except it wasn’t the Bucky you knew, not one you’d seen with your own eyes, but only ever heard tales about.

At first, you thought he still looked like himself, but as the firelight flickered across his form, you finally noticed just how altered he was. His natural body hair had quadrupled, fuzzing up his visage and the rippling muscles that hid beneath it, those as well seeming to have swelled up making his frame nearly unrecognisable. Though he always towered above your comparative stature, his height now was something else entirely. The sight of his eyes chilled you to the very bone, the calming blue was completely drowned out by a sea of black, with only a tiny golden flicker in the middle differentiating the obsidian. Nails long and tough like claws, broken chains still clung to his form as you watched his lip curl, a low growl rumbling throughout the room and letting you catch sight of his sharp teeth. 

Scarcely breathing at all, your hopes of him not noticing your presence began to fade as he predatorily sniffed the air. 

Your eyes suddenly grew wide as you spotted a part of him begin to swell up and come into the light. Throbbing, his unusually grand length intimidatingly curved upwards, it too haven grown just as the rest of his body had. 

Finally breaking through your terror, you sprung up and tried your best to run, though you didn’t get far as, within mere seconds, the natural hunter caught up to you and tackled you down to the ground, shredding the cosy knit you wore in the process. 

Cheek smooshed against the floorboards, you trembled beneath his beefy form as his flaming chest pressed against your back, knowing full well that if you made one wrong move, aggravated him in any sort of way, he could snap you like a twig. It didn’t matter what you did or how hard you tried, you had no way of overpowering the beast the moonlight turned him into. 

As your eyes flickered to the front door, it dawned on you that if he could break not only the chain that bound him, but also the strong basement doors, then the last barrier that kept him from the outside world wouldn’t even make him break a sweat. 

Growling directly in your ear, you felt his agitated breath fan across your face as his nose buried itself in your hair. Starved sniffs slowly travelling south, your heart nearly burst out of your chest as you felt him rip your clothes to shreds. Dress tattered and hanging off of you, your underwear swiftly disintegrated completely as only your stocking truly survived the attack, still clinging around your quivering thighs with only the smallest of tears to tell the tale. 

Grinding desperately against the curve of your form, his monstrous girth nudged against you, catching you off guard as even in this petrifying form, you still felt your body respond to him. 

“Bucky, Buck!” your voice squeaked in an attempt at breaking through to him, “it’s me! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” wildly flipping you over and roughly aligning himself with your core, you desperately tried to catch his dark eyes and try again, “Bucky, please!”

Joints locking up at the sound of your shrill cry, a flicker of reignition washed over his haunting glare, softening it slightly as you finally heard him speak, “…Y/n?” his voice was much lower than you’d ever heard it, though very much still his, “oh, fuck… I-…” a shaky breath escaped his lungs as he hovered above you, the tip of his cock nuzzled between your folds, “…I don’t think I can stop…” he grunted, his hand right beside your head digging into the floorboards and leaving splintery scratches in its wake, “I can’t fight it, I’m trying, but-”

“It's okay,” you carefully reached up and touched his cheek. You couldn’t let him run out that door and take some innocent lives. At this moment, all of his focus was aimed at you, so if it could just stay there and not stray till the sun came up, if you could distract him for only a little while longer, then the night might end without any unnecessary bloodshed. So, therefore, you gave in, “I love you, I love you so much,” your glistening eyes blinked up at him as you tried to speak with confidence, “you’re not gonna hurt me, I know you’re not. It’s okay, it’s-” 

Plunging into you, an almost animalistic noise accompanied his harsh action as the beast he’d become seized exactly what it desired. All of the air got pushed out of your lungs as he buried himself in you, stretching you out beyond belief and forcing a shuttering cry to tumble from your lips. 

Never mind the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom, a thing the two of you had always been careful about, that detail fought to penetrate through the fog he sent you into. Stunned that you could even take it all, the sensation of him made your mind melt. You felt all of it. Every vein and every ridge, every jaw-dropping detail that decorated his monstrous cock drove you to madness.

“Fuck!” he snarled, bucking his hips so hard against yours that your whole body shook, the sloppy clapping of skin against skin filled the home as he greedily rammed against the deepest spot inside of you, “do you have any idea how long I’ve tried to break out of those chains?” leaning down closer, he inhaled deeply, “I can fucking smell you…” you shivered as his nose ghosted against yours, “all the way down in the basement, no matter where you are, I can always smell you… calling for me, begging me to come and rip you apart…”

Leaning back again, his bruising grip found your hips and plucked them up, holding them tight as the rest of you still laid melted against the floor like a puddle before him. Like a ragdoll in his grasp, he moved your body, fucking your drooling pussy like the ravenous beast he was. 

As your eyes fluttered down to where he virtually split you in two, the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower stomach at each and every one of his ruthless thrusts caught your attention, the vision making you dizzy. 

You had never felt like this, never felt anything so intense in your whole life. He was just so menacing, so magnetic, so massive. Your own enthusiasm caught you by surprise, especially as your cunt soon began to cry out around him, showing your living room floor in your want as you squirted all over his rock-hard girth. 

Usually, Bucky would slow down and give you a moment whenever you had an orgasm, but in this moment, tonight, it wasn’t your Bucky that was pounding the living hell out of you, it was someone else, something else, and that creature only seemed to get even more riled up by your lewd display as he picked up his speed till his gravelly groans grew louder and his efforts began to go sloppy. 

“Please, Buck,” you mumbly pleaded, picking up on his telltale signs through your cock drunk haze, “not inside.”

But he didn’t listen to you as he just kept on fucking you till he pumped your pussy full of his cum. 

Panting and puffing above you, he still kept up shallow thrusts, rocking you against him and pushing his load out of your overly sensitive cunt with every piercing plunge. 

“Buck?” you heard yourself uttered as you found his dark gaze, though what stared back at you was not your love anymore as there was no recognition to be found in his eyes at all. 

Slamming you back against him hard enough for it to sting, you shuttered at the possibility that he was nowhere near done satisfying his carnal desire. 

But just before he could ruin you completely, a sliver of light began to dawn on the far side wall. Glancing out the window, you barely managed to spot the morning crest over the treetops in the distance. 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[chamomiletealeaf]

This fic is inspired by this art from @furaitsu on Twitter. You all should follow them. They draw amazing art of the COD boys.

Pairing: plus!sized!reader (but tbh could really be any reader :)) x Johnny “Soap” Mactavish

Warnings: m!dom to m!sub dynamics kinda, f!dom, p in v sex, choking, clothing fetish???

You buy a cute little outfit to show off in for Johnny, but to be honest… you kinda wanna see what he would look like in it muahaha.

“Well, whaddya think?” You ask your boyfriend Johnny. You’re standing in front of him and do a twirl, showing off the cute outfit you had on just for him.

You’re wearing black thigh highs that squeeze your thighs so perfectly, a red and black plaid skirt with a chain on the front, and a little cropped mesh top, that doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.

Johnny sits on the couch in front of you, legs spread out as he leans back and stares at you in awe, raking his eyes up and down your body with his thick arms crossed over his chest.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Johnny says through his teeth, nearly growling at you like a wolf would to its prey before it attacks.

You giggle at his reaction. This is exactly how you wanted him to react.

“C’mere bonnie.” Johnny says, leaning his elbows on his knees and gesturing for you to come his way.

You walk up to him and stand between his thighs. He places his chin on your soft tummy and looks up at you while he runs his hands up your thighs and eventually under your skirt, grabbing your ass, which earns him a little shriek out of you.

“Fuck baby. Holy shit you look fuckin’ stunning.” Johnny says nuzzling his face into the side of your waist as he lets his hands wander.

“Need to fuck you in this, but I’m afraid it won’t last very long. Would have it in shreds by the time we’re done. Would hate to see this cute lil outfit go to waste.” He says with a laugh, nipping his teeth at the waistband of your skirt.

And as you look down at him looking up at you, already drunk off of you. An idea of how your pretty little outfit won’t go to waste pops into your head and you smile mischievously down at him.

Johnny was a big, thick man. Even though you weren’t the smallest yourself, he still dwarfed you with the sheer mass of himself. But the material of your outfit was super stretchy. It’s what made you buy it in the first place. It was size inclusive.

“Well pretty boy.” You say as you lift his chin from your midsection forcing him to make eyecontact with you.

“Why don’t you wear it then. That way it won’t go to waste.” You say, your sly smile widening. Now you were the one who looked like a wolf about to pounce on its prey.

Johnny’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. But he looked amused.

“You want me to wear it?” He laughs, eyes still wide as saucers. “I don’t think it’ll fit me as well as it does you love. Might rip something.”

“Nah I don’t think so.” You say. “It’s pretty stretchy.”

Johnny glances to the side as if he’s considering it. Then he smiles.

“Besides, bet you’d look hot as fuck in it with those thighs of yours.” You tease, earning a chuckle out of Johnny.

“Ok, yeah, fuck it. I would look good as hell wouldn’t I.” He boasts, and you both get to undressing while you giggle like teens hooking up for the first time.

When you both get undressed, and Johnny has finally slipped into what was your outfit, you took a second to admire that gorgeous body of his. The outfit really did suit him.

“Ah fuck, ‘s a bit tight yeah?” Johnny says pulling the thigh highs up that keep rolling down.

He looked so. damn. delicious.

You zone out, ignoring his comments laughing at how you can see the bottom of his ass if he bent down just barely, and if he could trick his teammates into thinking this was actually a kilt. You were too busy drinking in the sight of him and his muscular, thick thighs that spilled over the top of the stockings and his arms and chest stretching the fabric that adorned his body ever so slightly.

“Yeah I know, I look silly.” He chuckles, responding to your silent ogling.

“On the couch.” You demand, catching him off guard.

“Oh.” He says amused. “Guess I don’t look silly then.” He smirks.

“Shut up and sit down on the couch.”

He obeys, sitting down, and you walk up to him, not caring that you’re fully naked and he wasn’t. You kinda liked it that way anyway.

You straddle his waist and run your hands up his chest, your body hovering over where his dick would be, since it was covered by the skirt. I mean, it was kind of easy to spot anyhow, with the way it was starting to make a tent in the skirt.

You sloppily kiss and lick up his neck, nice and messy, just the way he likes it. His hands grip your hips and he grinds up into you through the fabric of the skirt.

“Fuck. Keep doin’ that and you’ll be the death of me lass.” He moans out breathily.

You wrap a hand around his throat as you continue marking his neck but very lightly squeeze as a sign to tell him to stop talking, and he throws his head back and moans at the way you’re handling him.

He bucks his hips up into you in pleasure of you slightly choking him.

“Mmph- fuck, harder- squeeze harder.” He whines. And you do, earning a pornographic moan out of him as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

You grind your bare pussy down over the skirt onto the print of his dick and he’s so hard he whimpers at the sensation.

Your hand still around his neck, you whisper in his ear.

“My pretty boy wanna get fucked hm?”

Johnny turns his head to you, placing his forehead on yours.

“Go on bonnie, fuck me.”

And with that you flip up the skirt, revealing his hard and leaking cock. The sight makes your pussy pulse with anticipation of feeling it in you.

You line yourself up and sink down easily onto him, making both of you moan.

Johnny grips your hips tighter, trying to thrust up into you.

“Mm-mm, not yet. Gonna take my time.” You say.

You slide down to the hilt and lean your hands back on his knees and begin to move your hips back and forth in a circling motion slowly.

You look down and see the tops of his thighs peaking out from the skirt and thigh highs and it almost numbs your brain from how fucking hot he looks like this.

“Please- faster- fuck go faster- ride me.” He begs.

You stop your motions and look at him.

“What did I just say? I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He whimpers again and throws his head back as you start your pace again, moaning his name. You continue that until Johnny can’t take it anymore and is a panting, whining, and squirming mess under you.

“Aww ok baby, I’ll fuck you good now.”

You sit up and place both hands at the top of his thighs while you lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back hungrily, as if trying to reassert his dominance, but you pull away just in time, placing your hands over the mesh top on his chest and pushing him back into the couch holding him in place.

You start to bounce up and down on his cock, picking up your pace, and his hands go to squeeze your thighs. His thick length hitting every perfect spot, stretching you out so good and you let out a loud moan.

“God fuck bonnie just like that. Fuck me like that.”

You lean into him, placing your mouth by his ear.

“Yeah you like that hm? You like when I ride you like this?”

“Y- yeah- just like that- you know how to fuck me.”

You continue bouncing on him, admiring the way his chest heaves, stretching the fishnet-like fabric of the croptop he’s wearing, and the way the skirt is up around his hips the way it is when he’s the one fucking you, and how the material of the thigh highs and his thighs are coated in both of your arousal. He looked angelic like this, and you smiled at how perfect he was in this moment.

With his grip moving from its tight hold on your thighs to your hips, he started thrusting up into you, trying to meet you half way desperate for your pussy.

“F- fuck bonnie gonna cum. Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He pants, and you feel your own orgasm approaching quickly as well.

You nuzzle your face into his neck again as you continue to ride his cock like a dildo, using him like a toy.

“Fuck Johnny.” You moan.

���Choke me. Fuck choke me again. Need to cum with your hand around my throat.” He begs desperately, trying to get his demand in before it’s too late.

You bring your hand up and squeeze his thick neck while you place the other on his cheek, turning his head so your foreheads touch again.

“Go on. Cum for me. Show me how good I fuck you.”

And with you cutting off his airway, your tight cunt squeezing and pulsing around his cock, and your words, he spills his cum inside of you.

Johnny cums with a choked, slutty moan, eyes rolled to the back of his head.

You both cum at the same time, his orgasm sending you over the edge as well and you both slow your hips as you sob out your own moans cumming around Johnny’s cock.

You both sit panting, foreheads still touching with the bliss of the moment still in its passing.

“Y’know what?” Johnny says breathless with a smile.

“Hm?” You respond curiously and breathless yourself.

“Maybe we can share the outfit.” He says half jokingly.

And you both chuckle, ending the moment with a kiss full of giggles.

[transgender-timdrake]

Aleksandr's Introduction!

- i have 2 partners that I love very much

- i'm polyamorous

- i'm trans ftm

- director, writer, Dan Aykroyd enthusiast

- borderline

- advocate for cluster b awareness

♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

FANDOMS:

Saturday Night Live

The Blues Brothers

Supernatural

Barry

IT (1990), (2017), (2019)

Scream 1-5

The Lonely Island

Ghostbusters (1-5)

The Real Ghostbusters

Teen Wolf

Saturday Night (2024)

House MD

DCU

Brokeback Mountain

THINGS I WILL WRITE:

light NSFT

agere (SFT ONLY)

angst

fluff

ships

x reader

x oc

disabled reader

plus size reader

neurodivergent reader

gender neutral reader

fem reader

masc reader

THINGS I WILL NOT WRITE

NSFT beyond making out

anything illegal

anything morally wrong

romanticization of mental illness

st4lking

yandere

OTHER THINGS I MAY POST ABOUT:

bpd awareness

npd awareness

hpd awareness

aspd awareness

my trans journey

polyamory

movie reviews

THANK YOU FOR READING

[loganwritesprobably]

Content Test

I'm working on some things in the background, all content on a constant rolling simmer while I tend to my various irl responsibilities (hoping to get some more consistent work out during the holidays since I'll have effectively nothing to do) but in the meantime

I have a question

I love writing for more niche or overlooked communities in the reader insert space and so I want to see what the One Piece and Teen Wolf communities are looking for in that sense

What do you really wish you saw more of from the reader? Male readers? Explicitly non-binary readers? M/M or F/F content? Explicitly POC? Explicitly plus sized? Asexual? Explicitly disabled? Explicitly neurodiverse?

Which characters do you wish there was more content for?

Which tropes are you craving? Which tropes are you just so tired of? Age gap? Meet cute? One bed? Overheard confessions? Miscommunication? Pregnancy? Soft reader x scary canon? Found family?

Is there any AUs that you wish you saw more of? Any particular aspects of those AUs? Modern? Fantasy? Supernatural? Mafia? College?

Just unload in the comments, send asks, send DMs - tell me what you just wish you saw more often (or ever) in the appropriate tags and.. well I'll see what I can do

I'm one of those people often left wanting when browsing and I generally follow the idea of "fine, I'll do it myself", so I want to know what other people are craving

[yourmommygay]

Let's trust him.

Idea: This is set just after Liam brings theo back and is set in Scott's house when they find out he's back.

Pairings: theo raeken x plus size!reader, Malia tate/hale x reader (siblings. Malia is 2 years older), Scott mccall x reader (platonic), Liam Dumbar x reader (best friends)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and violence.

Be prepared this is a kinda long one.

Cody christain is just majestic.

Me, malia and Scott had just returned to Scott's after receiving a message from Liam asking for us to come back. As I stepped out of my truck and closed the door I heard my sister growl, I didn't understand why, I just shrugged it off and walked over to Scott who was walking up the path to the front door.

We entered the house and I heard hushed whispers from towards the kitchen area, I identified the voices of Liam and hayden aka my best friend and his girlfriend. As I rounded the corner I saw him, theo. My ex boyfriend standing behind my best friend and hayden who was holding the katana.

"What's going on here?" I asked worried as to why he was here. Liam looked sad almost guilty but still confident all at once. Scott stepped towards Liam with a angry glint in his eyes.

(Skip to later. Also im adding more speach cause its been a while since ive watched teen wolf and i cant find it anywhere as i live in the uk)

"Scott I don't trust him" malia said to Scott and I don't blame her, he manipulated us all, made us believe we could trust him, shot malia, made me fall in love with him just so he could get closer to the pack, manipulated Liam into trying to kill Scott then trying and sort of succeeding in killing him. "I know you don't malia, but Liam thinks he may be able to help us, he remembers stiles" Scott said trying to calm down the situation.

"I remember stiles, Lydia remembers stiles, y/n remembers stiles and so do you. We don't need theo, Liam needs to send him back. He tried to kill you scott" malia rambled getting angrier by the second. "What do you think y/n?" Scott asked looking straight at me, I looked over at theo and saw his eyes. He was listening in to the conversation and he looked scared. "Malia has a point he did try to kill you." I pause. "But so did I and malia and Liam and Peter and Kate and Chris and Jackson and yet you gave us another chance and trusted us. I say we give him one more chance, if he does something we don't like or agree with put him back" I respond.

Scott nods and tells Liam "y/n's right, but he's your responsibility. You watch him, got it?" Liam nods and looks over at me "can y/n help? She's theos weakness remember".

(Flashback to before they sent him to his personal hell)

"Y/n your everything to me, I didn't mean to involve you in the plan. I didn't mean to fall in love with you, at first I thought maybe it was easy but then you actually treated me the way I wanted to be treated, with love and care. God I'm crazy about you y/n, if anything happened to you I'd lose my mind. Your the only thing that keeps me calm and anchored" theo said trying to plea for my forgiveness.

"I can't be with you theo, not anymore. Your not the person I thought you was. If you can change then maybe at some point eventually but right now I'm pushing myself to just talk to you, I don't think I can trust you" I turned and left theo standing there looking like a kid who just dropped their ice cream.

"Fine catherine goes with but if he gets to close to her stop him" Scott and malia both say St the same time making me smirk. I have a feeling they will be together soon enough, there's always been something there. I can tell.

(Time skip again)

I'm walking behind hayden and Liam by theo but not next to him as I see Liam and hayden being a cute couple. Hayden says how she trusts liam I nearly make an audible sound of adoration towards the teenage couple as they kiss theo says "oh do you want me to leave you two alone to have some couple time?" He then holds up the chains "Oh wait I can't" he says annoyed. Liam rolls his eyes and me and hayden giggle at the boys. Liam yanks on the chain connected to the handcuffs on theo's wrists.

As I'm walking theo looks at me. "Hey" he whispers knowing that even though the teenage couple infront of us are talking that if he spoke loud enough Liam would hear him. "Hi" I whisper back. "I heard what you said to Scott back at the house, thank you for sticking up for me" he whispers smiling at me, not a smirk like before, a genuine smile. "I didn't do it as a favor for you." Amd just like that the smile is gone.

"I did it for me, so I can kill you once we have finished with you" I smile and him then jog to catch up and walk next to hayden.

(Time skip again. I'm sorry)

"Scott was right, I'm sending you back" Liam said to theo, we had just returned to the little shed thingy and saw a ghost rider dead in the cage with the gate open and theo sitting on the floor. I hadn't looked at theo yet I just know he's sitting on the floor, I finally look over at theo then turn to Liam and whisper to Liam "leave me alone with him, I'll fine out what happened" Liam looks hesitant but I nod and he and everyone else walks out leaving me with theo.

I sit down next to theo sideways facing him. I cross my legs, sigh and put my hands in my lap. "What happened theo?" I ask. Theo looks at me with tears in his eyes and blood on his face, "my sister would pull my heart out, over and over and over and over again. Then suddenly you appeared and she started pulling your heart out then she would make me pull it out, I couldn't. I couldn't hurt you again so I always had to watch you die." He said catching me of guard. "Theo I meant about what happened here. Is-is that what you witnessed in your personal hell?" I ask putting my hand on his knee. He nods then says "it was uh, Mr Douglas. He came in here, killed the ghost rider. Ate something from in his brain that let him use the whip" theo says then he clears his throat and sits up more, still leaning on the wall.

"Mr Douglas, as in the new teacher?" I ask in disbelief. Theo nods again and I nod. "Theo I have to ask, did you try to stop him?" I ask scared of the answer. "Yeah I did he uh, he pushed me against the wall and then faced the ghost rider" theo said and I knew he was telling the truth cause they couldn't lie to me. I nod and pull theo into my chest hugging him catching him by surprise but he quickly wrapped his arms around me and buried his head in my neck.

"I missed you" I confess. "I missed you so much more and I'm so sorry I broke your trust and I promise I will try to prove myself and change, for you. I'll be better for you" theo said looking me in the eyes. I smile and nod then kiss theo quickly before calling Scott and Liam and the others back in.

I stand up as they enter and say "He's telling the truth, he had nothing to do with what happened here. In fact he tried to stop it from happening but he couldn't. Scott can I talk to you outside?" I ramble, Scott nods and we walk out the little shed thingy. "Scott, he's just told me what he went through down there. I think we should at least give him a chance to be better. To prove to be better. He isn't the same as before, believe me. I was his girlfriend and there is a look in his eyes that wasn't there before." I explain.

"What did he go through?" Scott asks, I shake my head "I can't say exactly as its not my place if he wants to tell you he will but I will say that if anything would change him. It would be what he went through. Can we please give him one more chance and just put at least a little bit of trust in him?" I say.

Scott nods and says

"Okay, let's trust him"

A/n: I hope you like this, it took me about an hour to write as I kept getting distracted. Anyway let me know what you think about this and I'm sorry that I couldn't really remember much from the episodes but I tried my best. Anyway, remember you are loved and you are wanted. I love you and I hope you have a nice morning/evening/night. Bye bye.

[marvelvillian23]

Does anyone know a marvel, supernatural, Teen wolf, or original work on Ao3(tumblr too) when the oc/reader is plus size? Like shy/sweet and the omc is a bad boy/mean at first. Any plus size really story.

It would be nice if it was a series but I’ll take anything. It could be fluff, dark, or angst? I do not care at this point.

I’m also in the mood for bully x nerd so if anyone has some that’s not plus size, that’s fine please send my way. Also mean obsessive teacher. Because I can’t find any.

[riley-phoenix]

Pairing: Malia X Reader(Male)

Canon: Teen Wolf

Content: Smut, friends to lovers

Author's Note: -

Summary: While on a mission out of Beacon Hills, you and Malia find you need to book into a motel. Everything seems fine until you realise one thing: There's Only One Bed.

The wind blew relentlessly, rustling the trees and forcing leaves off their branches while a constant, sharp noise, perhaps the swooshing of the ice-cold midnight breeze, filled the air.

There had been a surge in supernatural emergencies lately, leading Scott to order the pack to split up in twos and deal with them. To your absolute surprise and delight, he had paired you with Malia. You could work well together with anyone, but given the choice, you'd pick her. You'd always thought fondly of her. You admired her curt responses and found her honest --sometimes brutally honest-- personality irresistible. Not to mention; you found her attractive, gorgeous infact, but you weren't going to make a move tonight, not so soon after her breakup with Stiles. Besides, you were out on business.

This little crush had always made you nervous around her, leading you to be unnecessarily nice to her. Wether it was always paying attention to her over the chaotic exchanges of dialogue during a pack meeting or leaping out of your seat at her mere mentioning of needing a favour, you couldn't control yourself around her, but you were aiming to keep yourself in check tonight.

You were lost in the middle of North Louisiana with no service and the rain had just started coming down. You and Malia jogged through the muddy terrain until, finally, you stumbled upon a motel.

"This should do for the night", Malia says, to which you nod.

The door creaked open slowly as you stepped inside. You approached the front desk while Malia squeezed the water out of her hair and scraped some mud off her boots.

There was an old, wrinkly woman with grey hair and pale skin behind the desk. She held a curmudgeonous expression and never broke eye contact with you. You approached her and lifted a finger so as to speak, and, just as your mouth had opened, you were subsequently interrupted, "Only one room left", she said in a shrill voice.

"We'll take it", you said without further inquiry about the accomodations as you gazed out a small window and took in the inclement weather outside. You threw a few dollars onto the desk and she handed you a pair of bronze keys in return. You turned around and jingled them at Malia, signalling her to follow you to the room. Before you left the lobby you picked up your bags, and, being the gentleman that you were, carried both your luggages, of which there were only two medium sized suitcases filled with clothes and essential supplies.

The hollow floorboards echoed the sounds of your footsteps as you ascended the staricase. You placed the suitcases on the floor and the key in the lock, moving it slowly in a clockwise motion before opening the door.

Grabbing the suitcases by their handles once more, you lifted them off the ground and swung the door open as you stepped inside. The room was small. It had an antique, wooden style of interior designing that, despite not being of the greatest quality, constituted a warm, cozy feeling. It seemed fine until you noticed one problematic detail: There's only one bed.

"Crap!", You exclaimed.

Malia, who was standing behind you, surged forward in a small panic. "What?", She asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"There's only one bed".

"Oh... Well, we'll make do", she said as she shrugged her shoulders.

You were shocked. It baffled you how nonchalant her response was and how she dismissed the situation as if it was nothing. You pulled out your blanket and started setting it on the floor when Malia questioned you.

"What are you doing?".

"You can have the bed", you said chivalrously

"*your name*, that looks extremely uncomfortable. Plus, I'm pretty sure there's termites on that floor".

"I'll be fine".

"We can share the bed".

"Oh, no I- I couldn't".

Malia rolled her eyes, grabbed your blanket and threw it onto the bed, "Really, it's fine".

"Don't you... Uhh", you started nervously.

"Yeah?", She asked.

"Don't you think sharing a bed is kinda... Intimate?".

She chuckled. "That's cute", she said jokingly, to which you didn't laugh, but rather looked on nervously. She sighed. "Look, we had a long day, we're both really tired. We're probably gonna fall asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows. Nothing's gonna happen, I promise".

"...Okay", you said hesitantly, before removing your shoes, climbing onto the bed and turning the lamp light off.

Later that night...

Neither of you were asleep. You twisted and turned, trying to do anything to force yourself asleep but nothing worked, you just laid there, staring at the ceiling.

As you adjusted your pillow, Malia pulled the blanket you were sharing closer to her, leaving a part of your body exposed. "Rude", you joked. Then you heard her shiver, and you knew something was wrong. It was the weather, it was getting to her.

"Hey, are you sick?", You asked.

"Shapeshifters can't get sick", she replied.

"Then what's wrong?".

"Incase you forgot I used to have a fur coat", she said curtly as she shivered again.

"Oh, right... Is there anything I can do?".

She paused, "...Yeah, actually... There is". She turned around to face you and brought your body closer to her's. You were chest to chest. She placed one hand on your abdomen and the other around your neck as she brought her head closer to your's.

"This making you feel better?", You asked as you furrowed your brow.

"Yeah. Your body temperature is hotter than mine, it's helping me stay warm so the cold doesn't affect me as much".

"Anything I can do to help", you said hesitantly. It made you nervous when you noticed just how close your bodies were.

She paused again. "Are you ok?", She asked.

"Yeah, of course. Why?".

"'Cause your heart is beating like, really fast".

You noticed she had her hand on your chest. "Yeah... I'm fine".

"That was a lie".

"What?".

"Your heart rate increased again... Something's bothering you". She pulled your face closer to her's so that you were looking at each other eye to eye. "Tell me what's wrong".

"I guess... I was kinda nervous about sharing a bed with you".

"Why?", She asked, to which she recieved no response. "*Your name*, do... Do you like me?", Again she recieved no response.

You simply turned your face away from her, almost in embarrassment. Your response, or lack thereof, said everything.

"Why didn't you say something before?", She asked.

You struggled to respond, "I don't know... I guess I just thought it was so soon after you broke up with Stiles; I didn't say anything because... I didn't know if you'd feel the same way".

"That was stupid...", she said bluntly as she ran her hand through your hair and placed one finger on your face, "...Because I do". She brought her lips to your's as she cupped your cheek.

You pulled her closer by her waist and reciprocated the kiss, gently moving against her tongue and softly squeezing her lips. Then, you pulled apart. A look of uncertainty on both your faces. Malia pulled her hands away from her body and reached down, to the edges of her shirt before pulling it over her head. "I thought you said you were cold", you said playfully.

"I was thinking we could heat things up".

You chuckled and did the same. Pulling off your shirt before helping Malia onto your waist as you slid under her. She ran her hands over your abs and as you reached for her, she grabbed your hands by the wrists and pushed them down against the bed. You struggled against her grip as she held you down, "I have super strength", she said. Eventually you stopped, and allowed Malia to take control. Still pinning you down, she kissed you on the cheek and made her way down. She left a trail of kisses across your neck and even on your chest, each one earning a small moan from you.

Then, she released her grip on your wrists. Letting you free. Waisting no time you flipped both of you over, now you were on top. You followed suit as you kissed her, then moved down, to her neck, and to her torso, enjoying each small moan she let out.

"Unhook my bra", she commanded as she lifted her body off the bed, allowing you to reach behind her and undo it before tossing it aside.

She pulled playfully at the elastic fabric on your boxer shorts, awaiting your consent. "Do it", you said breathlessly as she slipped them off.

"Now me", she said, to which you obliged and removed her pants. You were both fully exposed now. Vulnerable to each other in the highest form of intimacy.

You brought your head down, closer to her's, and once again kissed her on the side of the neck. This time you spread your legs apart, prompting her to do the same as you grabbed her by her lower waist. You moved into her slowly, earning one long, audible moan as she threw her head back in delight. She placed one hand on your buttocks and squeezed it hard as she guided you into a motion. You moved in unison, by the waist, front and back, creating a pleasurable sensation for the both of you.

"F-f-faster", she said as your hips started to press against each other even harder. As the springs in the bed started to break under pressure, it coincided with the noise of your moans, growing louder and louder until it burnt you out.

After some time, you slowed down. Tiredly, you laid your head against Malia's chest as she fell back into the pillow until finally; you achieved a mutual climax. Both your hands fell to your sides and you pulled away from her, falling to her side once again, and eventually, somewhere in the night, you fell asleep.

Masterlist

Fandom List

Taglist

Tags: @cactuwus @melthedwarf

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 66: The Storm is Over

Pacing the train station for hours, Stiles had counted how many people he's seen or knew in Beacon Hills. Which means his friends were running out of time or on their way.

He glanced at the Arrival Board and saw Beacon Hills arrival, no longer saying Delayed. Instead, it reads On Time.

Tensing, he feels a gust of wind blow on his legs, bringing dry leaves to his feet. Something was about to happen.

He squinted his eyes once something else caught his eyes. A train ticket slid out from under a door in front of him. Confused, he bent forward to pick it up.

Once he did, he heard his name being whispered in echoes before the voice got louder. His heart pounded in his chest over the familiarity of the voice.

Leaving the room, he moves towards the crowd of people sitting down. His eyes glanced over to the people of Beacon Hills.

A neighbor on his street, the sweet, old lady that occasionally dropped off cookies to his house, a couple of the guys on the lacrosse team. Even a couple of his teachers. The ones that worried him the most were Scott's Mom and Sam's mom.

They were really running out of time.

Before he could even walk over to them, the beeping of the PA system catches his attention, and a voice speaks over the line. “Attention all passengers – the train will be arriving in 25 minutes.”

The rows of people who were sitting on the benches all stood up and moved in a massive crowd causing Stiles to move around the obstacles with frustration. “Lydia!”

“Stiles?”, he hears again. He pushes through the crowd, actively trying to get to her. “Lydia!”

“Stiles? Stiles, look at me.”

He frowns, frantically trying to look for her but can't see her. “Lydia, wait!”

“Stiles!”

He ducks, hearing loud gunshots blast from the other side of the station. It was loud, but…familiar.

Looking up, he noticed an arm raised in the air holding a gun. His eyes widened and watered as he trailed the arm to a face he knew so well. “Give the boy some room.”

“Dad? Dad!”, Stiles rushes forward, almost tumbling into his father's arms, instantly being wrapped with warmth. “Oh thank god.”, he breathes.

“Oh, I found you… I can’t believe I found you.”, Noah mumbles, into his son's shoulder.

Stiles lets out a wet chuckle and looks up to see his best friend behind his father. He pulls away, swallowing. "Sam…?"

The girl's eyes welled up with tears, finally putting a face to the anonymous voice she's heard countless of times. All of her memories of the boy pieced back together, filling the missing parts of her life back.

She rushed to hug him, the boy tightly taking her in his arms. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…!", she sobbed. He shook his head, his own tears dripping down his face. "You're here. That's all that matters. You remembered me."

He pulled away, cupping her wet cheeks. "I told you you would.", he says, grinning. She gave him a wobbly smile. She remembers that too.

Stiles looked up at his father. “Dad, I can hear Lydia. I think – I think I can go to her. I think she can get us out of here.”

Before Noah could say anything, they tensed up at the sound of horseshoe gallops. Noah raises his gun, and points in the direction. “You need to get out here, don’t worry about me.”

Stiles' eyebrows furrowed. “What? You’re kidding, right?” He feels Sam push him away. "Get out of here. Get to Lydia and Scott.", she says.

His eyes widened. "You wanna separate? Now?"

Noah sets his hand on the boy's shoulder. “Go– get help. Find your friends!”

“Yeah? And what about you guys?”

He just smirks at his son. “We’ll find each other again.”

“Dad–”

“Stiles… We'll hold them back. Now, get the hell out of here. Go! Go!”, Noah says, shooing his son. Stiles looks at Sam with an uncertain expression whilst she returns the look with a confident smile and a nod.

As the boy runs off, she turns to the sheriff with a nod and closes her eyes as she hears the gallops get louder.

She felt a sensational rush of her powers returning to her. They didn't feel unwelcomed and uncomfortable anymore.

She missed it.

She could feel how many of the Ghost Riders that were coming for them, so quickly, she shifted as soon as they made light.

Before they could reach for any of their whips, she let out a loud roar, her form returning to her.

Stiles disappeared down the tunnel he and Peter tried to escape in. Ahead of him, there’s a bright white light, similar to how the Ghost Riders enter and exit.

Pushing against the strong wind coming from it, he hears Lydia's voice once more. “Stiles, keep going. I remember you, I remember everything–”

Despite the force of the wind, Stiles fights to get closer, pushing past the rift. As he finally exits, he tumbles and lands on something with a grunt.

His eyes catch the light of his police scanner as he grabs onto his steering wheel, happily back inside his jeep.

Quickly, he turns on the ignition and drives out of the parking lot, heading to the first place he could think of.

He rushed up to Scott's house, putting the jeep in park and runs inside the house. “Lydia! Scott? Malia??”

Taking in the empty house, his heart drops to his stomach. He already saw Melissa, but maybe… 

He ran back into his jeep, driving down the empty roads to the sheriff's station. The place looked trashed. He didn't know what to make of it. What if he was the only one…?

On the road, he noticed train tracks and left the station, following the tracks. He drove up to the hospital, noticing someone had walked in. Bothered, he parked and grabbed his bat he kept in the back before leaving the jeep and moving in the hospital.

The tracks seemed to stretch in the hospital halls as he looked around.

Stiles looks around hearing a yell. “Hollenhund!” He hears a familiar roar and followed the sound.

“Parrish! Parrish, you don’t wanna do this. Stop!”, Scott yelled with reasoning. Parrish only roars back and moves to attack them.

“The train is coming, boys. There’s no stopping the Wild Hunt. You’ll make a fine Ghost Rider, Scott. And I’ll have a True Alpha by my side.”, Stiles catches a voice. Peeking around a corner, he sees a man talking to Scott.

“Parrish, stop!”, Scott yells again.

The man continued. “And then a Werecoyote, a hybrid, a Banshee–”

Stiles lifts the bat a little higher as he comes up behind him. “A Stiles?”

“A what?”, the man frowns and starts to turn around, but before he could, Stiles brings his bat down, hitting the back of the man's head, watching as he falls to the ground.

Stiles looks up, nearly dropping his shoulders as he looks at Scott and Liam’s surprised faces. “Bad guy, right? I didn’t misread that?”, Stiles asks.

Scott gaped his mouth, shocked to see Stiles but turned to the sound of a growl. “Oh god–”, Stiles mutters, backing away.

Scott grabs at Parrish's flaming body and chucks him over to the other side of the tracks. Stiles evades the hellhound, watching as he lands on the man he swung at.

He looks up at Scott, and instantly rushes to bring his brother into his arms. They both give each other pats on the back, sighing in relief. "Oh man, it’s so good to see you.”, Stiles mumbled. 

Liam interrupts, tapping their shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey! Uh–”

Stiles looks over at Liam, bringing him into a hug too. “Liam! It’s so good to see you, too!”

Liam returns the hug, but taps on Stiles' back, pointing behind him. “Yeah, no yeah, good to see you, Stiles… but, uh–”

Stiles pulls away from him, following his line of sight. Parrish's body brightens in orange and green flames. The flames seem to grow as he lifts his arms, sending a blast to them. Stiles nods, pushing his friends. “Okay. Yeah, we should go. Go, go, go!”

They run down the hallway, ducking into other hallways to find a supply closet. “I can’t believe I’m gone a couple days and the whole place falls apart.”, Stiles muttered.

Scott looks at him confused. “No, you were gone for three months.”

Exiting one closet, Stiles paused and looks at Scott with a confused face. “I was – what?”

Scott looks at him with a confirming nod. Stiles moves past them into the other supply closet, annoyed. “Okay, if they don’t let me graduate, I swear to god–”

“What are you looking for?”, Liam asks. “Ah– this!”, they hear before seeing Stiles pull out a Liquid Nitrogen canister. He sets in between his feet and grabs the hose before turning it on. He looks up to see an angry Parrish down the hall. “And him.”

Scott and Liam tense seeing the hellhound. “Grab him – grab him now!”, Stiles says, gesturing to him. 

As soon as Parrish speeds up, Scott and Liam stop him short and slam his back against the wall.

Stiles hurries in front of him, instantly spraying the liquid nitrogen down, watching Parrish's flames dim as his head slumps.

The deputy slumps against the wall once Scott and Liam let go. Liam yells in pain, frantically patting himself down. “Ow, ow!”

Stiles looks at the younger beta in confusion. “Liam. Liam, you’re fine.”

“Jesus, that just doesn’t feel good, you know?”, Liam mumbles, looking at his chest before frowning at Stiles.

Parrish's voice catches the boys' attention as he groans before looking up, confused at the sight of Stiles. “Stiles? What are you doing here?”

Stiles' eyebrows raise. “Buddy, love you, but we’re way past that, okay? You gotta fill us in. What’s going on?”

Scott and Liam help the deputy stand up and Parrish leans against the wall. “Douglas, he’s merging the worlds so the Ghost Riders can cross over.”

“Yeah, he wants his supernatural army in our world.”, Liam says. Scott looks at Parrish. “How do we stop him?”

“The train – it’s coming.”, Parrish answers, looking to his right, seeing the board hanging above the nurses’ desk with the locations, departure and arrival times.

Scott sighs, impatient. “Okay, and how do we stop that?”

Parrish looks from Scott to Stiles. “You can’t stop it, but you can divert it.”

Back at the train station, Sam and Noah managed to put down each of the Ghost Riders, keeping the passengers protected.

It was confusing. What was this happening? Why was Beacon Hills targeted? How long was this gonna go on for?

Sam looked around, frowning. This is where Stiles was this entire time…? All these people seemed either afraid or nonchalant about what just happened.

She glanced from the familiar lacrosse players to Melissa and her mom. Frowning sadly, she hesitates walking up to her.

She should be here to protect her, but there wasn't much she could do from here. Especially if the fight wasn't in the station, but back in Beacon Hills.

She feels a hand on her shoulder and turns to look at Noah over her shoulder. He glanced at Denise before smiling at Sam. "If there's something you have to do, you do it.", he says. "I'll watch out for her."

She gives him a small smile and a nod before heading off into the tunnel they entered. As she walked down the dark silent tunnel, she sighed. She was here, now what?

What could she do…?

Suddenly, she felt a rumble under her feet and looked at the train tracks before looking behind her. They put down most of the Ghost Riders, no doubt there may be more coming, but she didn't feel the gallops.

Instead, it felt like a shift from the train tracks. Actually… It felt like a pull. A pull from different directions.

She looked down at the tracks before sitting down. Gripping onto the dirty, rusty train tracks, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Sensing a strong pull, she followed it. Her eyelids fluttered as she recognized the familiarity of the pull and in an instance, she was gone.

As the boys left the hospital, Liam looks down in thought. “We can’t move between worlds, but Corey can. He can exist in both worlds…”

Scott's eyes widened. “And he can take people with him.”

Liam nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, at your house! He pulled a Ghost Rider into our world.”

Stiles frowns as Scott explains. “At the lacrosse game, he brought us into theirs.”

Liam looks at them. “What if that’s how Douglas is doing it? What if Corey’s the key?”

Stiles huffs, waving an arm in dismissal. “Interesting theory, okay? Solid logic. It is, but he’s in there, and we’re out here. So, the only way to save everyone now is to just divert the train.”

“We have to find him.”, Liam insists. Stiles frowns. “How?”

Liam thinks before looking at them with an excited glint in his eyes. “I’m going into the Hunt.”

Stiles looks at him as if he'd grown another head, quickly stopping the boy from moving. “No, no, no. Liam, I think you’re confused. We’re trying to get people out of the Hunt…”

“He can get taken by a Ghost Rider.”, Scott adds, making Stiles look at him with wide eyes. "It’s just… that’s not a pleasant option– I mean I’m just speaking from experience.”

Liam stops him. “I don’t need to get taken to get into the Hunt!”

Stiles tilts his head in confusion. “Okay, seems like you’ve got an idea. Let’s discu–”

Instead of listening, the underclassman runs off into the school.

“Where are you going!?”, Stiles shouts. Liam yells over his shoulder. “I’ll be back!”

Stiles huffs, distressed as he looks at Scott with his hands on his hips. “Were we like that?”

Scott shakes his head. “Worse.”

“Jordan said we just have to follow the tracks to find the diverter.”, Scott said, sighing.

Stiles points at the train tracks he could see. “Yeah, well…those lead into the woods… this way back into the school…”

“You wanna split up?”, Scott asks with a grimace. Stiles looks at him with a shake of his head. “Never again.”

Scott lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank god.” Looking over to the school, Scott frowns. “The direction of the school leads to the library and there was a second train station waiting area set up inside but no diverter in sight.”

Stiles nods, sighing. “Woods it is then.”

Following the train tracks into the woods, the boys come up to a curve in the tracks. Suddenly, Scott grabs Stiles and pulls him off of the tracks, ducking. “Wait, wait. Get down.”, he whispers, bringing Stiles behind a tree. 

Stiles looks around. “Why are we stopping?”

Through the middle of the trees, Stiles' eyes catch a lever on the other side of the tracks. “Is that it?”

“It can’t be this easy.”, Scott whispers, nervous. Stiles frowns at him, “Yes it can, Scott. It can be this easy. For once, let’s do easy!”

Scott sighs and mutters, “Okay.” The boys leave the tree, crossing over to the lever. Stiles reaches for the lever and before he could grab it, a whip wraps tightly around his wrist.

His eyes widened. “Shit–”

Scott's eyes widened as Douglas faced them before he yanked on his whip, bringing Stiles to the ground.

Stiles falls, letting out a groan. “Or not.” Douglas pulls back harshly and Stiles disappears into a flash of bright green smoke.

Opening his eyes with a groan, he looks around. He noticed the lockers, similar to the boys' locker room and got up, ready to leave.

As he left, he runs down the hall, almost crashing into Scott who lets out a breath of relief. “Damn, man! Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Stiles nods. “I think so. I finally saw the girls’ locker room… it’s not that different. It’s kind of disappointing.”

Scott rolls his eyes and brings him over to a set of doors that took them outside. “What just happened?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know, I think the worlds… I think they’re collapsing in on each other.”

The PA system speakers beep above the two before a muffled voice comes through. “Attention all passengers, the train will be arriving in eleven minutes.”

Scott and Stiles frown. “We were obviously on to something with the diverter if Douglas sent us away from it. We have to get back to it.”, Stiles said.

“Yeah.”, Scott said. Once they push open the doors and step outside, they're both thrown back by a force field.

Once again, Stiles is back in the locker rooms, his back hitting the lockers as he slides down with a groan. "Damn it!"

Heaving himself up, he headed for the door and opened it, only to face the Ghost Rider that kept him from leaving.

The Ghost Rider pulled out its pistol, and pointed it at Stiles. Fed up, Stiles grabbed the rider's arm, turning it away from him before he could shoot. The gun shot off and the Ghost Rider shoved Stiles away.

"Scott, I can't fight this guy!", Stiles panted, hoping Scott could hear him.

The Ghost Rider aimed his gun at Stiles once more, but before he could shoot, Stiles ducked into the aisle of the lockers.

The Ghost Rider followed him and Stiles stood straight, as he became cornered. He stared into the barrel of the pistol before closing his eyes with a shaky breath.

The memory of him coming close to such death ran through his mind. On the brink of his death as well as his friends that were suffering in the Hale bunker under the school.

This time, that feeling came back and he felt just as useless.

Suddenly, the familiar wail of the banshee entered his ears and he ducked as the wail got louder. Lydia's force slammed the Ghost Rider into the lockers, pinning him there as he shook.

Her screams quieted as she watched the Ghost Rider drop to the ground, limp and lifeless.

Stiles turned his head, a few small breaths exiting him as he looked at Lydia who looked at him with glassy eyes. "I-I didn't say it back.", she whimpered.

Stiles took quick strides to her. "You don't have to," he shook his head, cupping her face and finally kissed her.

They pulled away after hearing a roar. "Scott…", Stiles muttered, hurrying Lydia out of the locker room with him.

As the two moved down the halls, the Stilinski boy paused as he heard a painfully familiar voice. “Stiles…”

Stiles turns to see a feminine figure ahead of him. “…Stiles, is that you?”

“Mom?”, Stiles whispers, walking towards her with a heavy heart. Lydia catches him with a grip, pulling him back. “Stiles, that’s not your mom.”

Stiles shakes his head, practically dragging her toward the figure. “I know who it is. I know her voice.”

Lydia stood him. “No, that’s the Wild Hunt. They’re tricking you. Stiles, please believe me. The Wild Hunt brought her back, but she’s not real.”

Stiles frowns as he looks at her. “What do you mean ‘brought her back’?”

Claudia frowns as she walks towards them. “Stiles… I know what you’ve been through. I know how much you love your father…”, she says with a loving voice.

Thunder rumbles and snaps outside and when Claudia steps into view, she's no longer recognizable.

“But I love him more. Even from the Hunt, you somehow wormed your way back into his memory.”, the apparition sneers. 

Stiles frowns at the being. “Yeah, worming is one of my skills.”, Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders.

“That thing is conjured from your dad’s pain. If he remembers you, he can’t believe in her.”, Lydia tells him.

“That’s why you have to go.”, Claudia said and without a beat, Lydia projects her wail on the apparition, only stopping short as the apparition wraps her hand around Lydia's neck, squeezing tightly.

Stiles breaks the hold the woman has on Lydia, glaring at her as she turns to him. “You shouldn’t treat your mother that way.”

“You’re not my mother.”, Stiles declares, only to be held up by the throat. The apparition drags him backwards, and slam his back against the wall.

Lydia tries letting out her screams, only to be short of breath.

“He believes in me. Dreams, so hard to kill.”, Claudia says as she watches the boy's face turn red.

“But not impossible.”

A gunshot fires, making everyone look at Noah. The apparition looks at her stomach, ignoring the lack of damage before looking up at the sheriff. “Noah, your bullets can’t hurt me.”

Her eyes widen as she watches a huge feline beast run down the hallway, and before anyone can react, the beast snatches the apparition from Stiles.

The woman lets out a scream as the beast's fangs dig into her. Stiles looks up at the beast with wide eyes. "That's…"

Without hesitation, Noah shoots another bullet and aims directly into the woman's head before she completely disappears in a bright flash of green smoke.

Stiles runs over to his dad and Lydia. “You guys okay?”

Lydia nods, being brought into a hug with Stiles and Noah. Stiles' eyes glanced at the feline, watching as it disappears into a puff of smoke and a pendant drops to the floor in its place.

He pulls away from the hug and picks the pendant off of the floor, and sticks it in his pocket.

Before anyone could say anything, they heard a loud, painful scream down the hall and a rumble could be felt under their feet as they tried stabilizing their footing.

Once it stopped, Stiles frowned and ran to where he heard the scream. As he ran down the halls, he noticed that the train tracks that were once there had disappeared.

Stopping in a hall, he sees his best friend on her knees, a dark, moderate sized puddle of blood dripping from her. Under her, he could see a faint mark of a train track as if it had been singed into the floor.

He took note of her darkened arms that looked bruised, but they slowly healed. It made more sense as to why the cat was there. Rushing up to her, he grabbed her shoulders. "Sam?"

Her head tilted back and he could see the dark, heavy trails of blood that dripped from her nose to her chin, down to her neck.

The marks that dripped from her eyes moved further down to her jaw. The dark crescent moon that sat on her forehead seemed to be spreading into cracks.

"Sam!", he yelled, trying to get her to open her eyes. He laid her down, trying to listen for her heartbeat, only hearing the faint thumps. He sighed, laying her head on his legs and looked up to see Lydia and his dad walking up to him.

Lydia's eyes widened as she ran over to him, looking over Sam. "Is she…?"

Stiles frowns softly. "She's alive.", he said, glancing at the train track mark.

She must've been sitting in the tunnels, he thought.

Hours later, they'd learn that Scott, Malia, Theo and Peter had stopped Douglas from continuing his merging plans with Douglas being turned into a Ghost Rider and disappearing into the storm with his fellow horsemen.

Corey, who was being used by Douglas, was being taken care of by Melissa and Chris as well as Sam who had woken up after he did.

Looking around the hospital room, Sam lets out a soft groan, quickly waking up her mother who looked at her with glossy eyes.

Sam smiled in relief to see the woman and was brought in a hug. The storm was over. They were gone.

Everything was back to normal… well as normal as could be.

[kurokoros]

i'll never forgive the show how they handle their characters' traumas. but esp Steve, he should get a storyline where it gets acknowledged. he should have been the one who got vecna'ed in s4 instead of nancy. steve only ever getting upset about his love life is toxic, people call him a hopeful and positive person, but he never deals with everything. i don't want him depressed out of his mind, but him not feeling anything, and only caring about love is wasted potential. we need more episodes. all of the characters have way more potential than they will ever reach.

i know there is a lot of criticism that the cast is too loaded, but sometimes i wish there was another core teen since the beginning. maybe it's the x reader brain in me, but i wish we had a character who would become friends with Steve in s1, and then it slowly would build up to a friends to lovers situation. it certainly would have been better than the whole love triangle debate in s4. Steve deserves a better love interest, and the payoff would've been great. plus, it wouldn't reduce Steve to Nancy's love interest, how they already started to do in s4. every other of his relationship was botched in favor of this ship.

Steve never getting a plot outside of romance bothers me, but not in the sense that I think he should be single. Like, they could have given him a new girlfriend in S3 and it would have been fine. Good for him. Now can we explore some of that trauma? How's the probable brain trauma going for him? What's his family like? The fact that he didn't get vecna'd is criminal. All I ask for is crumbs, but if we had gotten a full on possession a la S2!Will??? god that would have been so so sexy of the duffers. it would have been so. oh my god. I always think of Stiles from S3B of Teen Wolf, and how it would be so similar of a situation with Steve. no one would suspect it and possessed!Steve would make a terrifying and heartbreaking season antagonist. I know that Billy existed in S3, but I literally did not give a shit about him. Steve being possessed would actually raise the stakes.

The thing about the cast being bloated is that it's not the actual size of the cast that matters so much as how the characters are being used. The new characters have all been sassy comic relief since S3 and could be cut from the plot with minimal changes because their "bonds" with the other characters don't feel believable.

I totally agree about another teen character making sense in S1. Not to self-promote too much on main, but my rewrite/reimagining focuses heavily on an OC named Daphne Hopper, a friend of Steve's that ends up wrapped up in everything. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Steve and Nancy are nipped in the bud midway through S1, basically. I find the premise of "what if one of Steve's friends went missing instead of/alongside Barb in S1?" so compelling, because it would put him into more of an active role in his development, rather than him having a change of heart because of some girl he's been casually dating for like... a month tops? probably less than that judging by how Nancy and Barb talk in episode 1.

[sundrop-writes]

Stupid For You

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

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

I’ll take what I can get.

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

Summary:

Stiles tried to return your panties - he really did.

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

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

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

Word Count: 11,900

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

But he just never got the chance to. 

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

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

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

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

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

He was wondering if you had noticed them gone yet. 

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

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

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

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

But then - it happened. 

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

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

Naturally - someone else spotted them too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, they’re not mine!” 

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

“They belong to Y/N!” 

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

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck. 

Stiles was screwed. So, so screwed. 

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

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

He wished that he still had his lacrosse pads on. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you let out a soft laugh and said: 

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

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

Thank God - you were covering for him. 

Wait. Why were you covering for him? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You shrugged. “He’s cute.” 

Lydia waited for further explanation, and you folded. 

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

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

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

… 

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

He was still utterly screwed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Door.” 

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

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

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

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

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

He was surprised by what came next. 

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

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

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

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

“Good. We’ll go to your place then.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, you know…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a bright, amused laugh. 

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No more talking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So naturally, he nodded again. 

“Do you understand?” 

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

“Tell me that you understand.” 

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

“Good. Now take off your clothes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned at this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a rhetorical question. 

He swallowed thickly, gathering himself to answer. 

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

You hummed thoughtfully at this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How often do you jerk off?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles took a sharp breath. 

Again, he felt caught. 

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

You giggled. “Needy boy.” 

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

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

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

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

You licked your lips. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a giggle. 

“What else, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shh, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, baby. I know you will.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was not going to survive this. 

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

“Hey, come on. Look at me.” 

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

“Good boy.” 

He let out another whimper at the praise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All too soon, he was going to cum. 

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

You grinned. 

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

“Please ‘what’, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

But this time it was so very real. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” Stiles breathed out, entirely eager. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He popped off your tit immediately. 

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

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

Your pussy was so gorgeous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck! Stiles!” 

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

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

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

“Fuck! Stiles!” 

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

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

“Baby, baby-” 

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

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

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

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

You had another idea instead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, I want-” 

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

You smiled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, please-” He gasped. 

You knew it wouldn’t take much more. 

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

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

An experiment for later, you guessed. 

“Good boy.” 

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

… 

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

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

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

A perfect little present for your good boy.

… 

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

“Okay, rise n shine, kid, time for-” 

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

“Dear god, what the hell is that?” 

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

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

“Look, Dad, I can explain-” 

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

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

“Just - did you use protection?” 

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

“Yes.” He answered, calm and short. 

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles nodded, rushing to do so. 

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

...

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

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

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

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

Happy reading!! -Sunny <3