Stiles Stilinski X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Undercover || Stiles Stilinski

A/N: just a blurb! nothing too lengthy because this is my first writing piece on here <3

word count: 845

WARNINGS: a bit of cursing, mentions of guns! This should be almost action-comedy :)

Inspired by this prompt.

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“Just try to relax, Stiles, okay? I don’t want a repeat of what happened the last time.”

As you looked over at your best friend and partner-in-crime, Stiles Stilinski, you didn’t miss the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes as he thought back to the last time you both went undercover to get particulars on possible threats.

He tugged on his bottom lip in attempt to suppress the growing smile on his face as he continued to relive the memory in his head. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, eyes flickering up to rising number of floors in the elevator. “I thought we handled Cleveland pretty well.” He spoke while pushing his body off of the wall and fixating himself right next to you as the elevator doors began to open.

You cringed at the memory. Cleveland, what an experience.

“Ah, yes. How could I possibly forget the time I had to break a man’s nose to successfully get information out of him after a certain someone decided to get a little too carried away with their role?” You sighed dreamily, but it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend’s beaming grin at the fact that you remembered your first operation together. But how could you forget?

Stiles Stilinski had a horrible Russian accent.

“You made me get blood on my favorite dress.” You grumbled out to him, adjusting the fake prescription glasses on your face as you slowed your movements in front of two large glass doors in the pristine hallway of suits and pencil skirts.

With furrowed brows, Stiles trailed his eyes down your figure to inspect your outfit. “I thought this one was your favorite?” He mumbled, adjusting his tie due to the slight nerves he gets just before a meeting like this. Glancing down at the plum colored peplum dress you decided to wear, you met his confused stare with a look of disgust.

“What? No, I hate this dress. I just had nothing else to wear.” You explained with a shrug. Just as Stiles opened his mouth to speak, a older gentlemen in a dark suit pulled opened the doors the two of you stood in front of. His mouth snapped shut just as you straightened out your posture and offered the man a tight lipped smile, which he returned.

The man held his hand out, graciously shaking both of your rights ones with an award winning grin. “Ms. Warren and Mr. Rapp, I presume?” He asked to which you both nodded to confirm your false identities you were given with. “Donald Cheever, please, let’s begin.” The man, Cheever, wasted no time in opening the door wider for the both of you to step through.

Stiles was quick to take the closest seat next to you, a hand on your exposed knee as Mr. Cheever sat across from you both, hands folded in with one another.

The older man’s grin faded away within seconds, being replaced with a stone cold stare set on the two of you. “I can’t help but say that you look ravishing in the at color, Ms. Y/L/N.” He spoke cooly, sending shiver run straight down your spine as you swallowed thickly.

Stiles’ grip on your knee tightened, his jaw clenching as his whiskey colored eyes grew dark with anger. “Why don’t we cut the shit, and you tell me why you are really here, hm?” The man in front of you asked, and before you could fiercely decline his proposition, Stiles opened his mouth.

“You’re a dangerous man. Incredibly stupid as well, I mean, what’s with the ginormous shiny building if you’re supposed to be hiding from the government?” Stiles sneered, and you placed your hand over his to squeeze it in a warning manner.

Cheever turned to you, raising his brow in a questioning manner. “Please ignore my associate if you can.” You sighed, ignoring the incredulous look Stiles shot you.

There was a reason why your undercover operations always ended up getting physical. Stiles can never shut his mouth.

“I really can’t.”

“Are you just unaware that you have the whole Virginia base on your ass for incredibly lethal arms deals?” Stiles scoffed in disbelief, and your head snapped in his direction just as his own eyes widened in realization.

“He certainly does now, Stilinski.” You muttered to him between clenched teeth, shooting him a deadly glare to which he gave you an apologetic shrug.

By the time you both turned back to Cheever, you were not only met with his smug expression, but a black .45 caliber pointing directly at you.

You slowly turned your head back to Stiles, who was already looking at you and offering you a almost teasing grin. “It’s a good thing you wore that dress then, huh?”

You shook your head at his words with a hint of a smile, a chuckle passing through your lips as you slipped the fake glasses off your face, your gaze back on the man holding the gun.

It was a good thing, indeed.

End of the Line [ 1 ] || Stiles Stilinski

A/N: this takes place during season 6A, when Stiles is taken by the Ghost Riders. a STYDIA SCENE TURNED INTO AN STILES x READER SCENE. also, italicized text symbolizes memory.

word count: 2,426

WARNINGS: i’d say none, but some might consider angst? I don’t know how this works yet.

Inspired by this song. Highly recommended you listen on repeat while reading!

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Your heart ached as you walked through the doors. It wasn't an aching that you'd get from seeing a sad scene in a movie or seeing someone cry in public — it’s the feeling you get when you lose someone. You felt like you lost someone.

You felt lost. And you didn't know why.

Frantic. You were so frantic, tears welling in your eyes as you scanned the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School in search of your hazel-eyed best friend.

"Y/N?"

You heard him call out for you, and in that moment you didn't care if you tripped over your own two feet to get to him. You did what it took to get to him as fast you could.

The wind was picking up. The golden brown autumn leaves that tumbled from the trees were being blown by the harsh wind, your hair being whipped around your face. You didn't care. You only cared about him, only cared about being in his arms.

"You know me. Oh, thank God." He panted, hurrying you into his strong embrace. You were speechless, heart racing at the thought of being too late before he was taken. Clinging to his body, your  fists clenching into his flannel shirt.

"I know you." You managed to squeak out, mind feeling hazy.

You knew him. But it began to feel like you didn't.

Your eyes screwed shut, and you hissed in pain at the sudden pounding to your temples. Instinctively, you held your head, ignoring the stares you were given by fellow peers as your slowed your walking in the hallway.

And just as quick as it came, the headache was gone. Your eyes sprung open, and you let your gaze travel through the sea of students. Fingers tingling as well as the tip of your tongue, and you couldn't explain why. Someone was supposed to be here. But where were they?

With your brows furrowed, a look of determination settled nicely on your features. You pushed your way through the bodies, but not without looking at each one of their faces in hopes of easing the longing feeling that was only growing in the pit of your stomach.

"I think everyone else is forgetting."

Your words were weary, tears leaking from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. Bottom lip wobbling as your grip on his flannel shirt only tightened.

The sight of you this way broke his heart, and you could see it in his whiskey colored eyes.

'Those eyes, how could I forget them?' You thought. But little did you know it was already slipping your mind.

He opened his mouth to give you as many comforting words he could before his time was up, but it was too late.

The wind picked up gradually, cold air nipping at both of your skin causing your cheeks to flush. Your clothes flapping against your body as your hair attempted to block your vision of him. So you tied it up.

Although it was blind to your eyes, it wasn't to his. He froze in your arms, a panicked look taking over his beautiful features as his eyes darted around in front of him. You could feel his breathing picking up as you held him, which caused yours to do the same.

"What is it?" You asked, no matter how badly you didn't want to ask the question — you did.

"Do you see them?" Was all he asked, his arms slipping from their hold on you as he slowly stepped back.

You took this time to look around you, only to see the dimly lit parking lot with a few cars in it. "See what?"

He whimpered at your response, and you watched as tears filled his eyes. Taking a step toward you, his large hand clasped around your wrist, gently tugging you in his direction and away from the men on the horses that only he saw. His eyes weren't on you, they were on something ahead of you — they were on them.

"Stiles," You swallowed thickly, slowly pulling your eyes away from the empty lot to his fear stricken face. "If you can see them, they're gonna.."

You couldn't finish. You didn't want to, because you knew if you did, the truth would become even more real than it already has.

Stiles finally tore his eyes away from the Ghost Riders that slowly gathered in front of the two of you, grabbing onto both of your arms firmly.

"No, I know. I know. They're coming for me."

Headache again, but what was the trigger?

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, wincing at the harsh pounding in your head. It felt as though the back of your head was being whacked with a metal bat and you couldn't get it to settle or stop.

Looking around again, nobody seemed to give you the wave of familiarity you were yearning for.

You began to grow frustrated with yourself. Why couldn't you remember who you were looking for? They must've been way too important to forget if your body is aching to find them.

But you can't fulfill your own needs.

Why? Because you don't even know who you were looking for anymore.

"You have to get away from me. Right now, okay?"

You felt your pulse begin to quicken as the hairs on your arms and back of your neck began to rise. They were here, they were close. You could feel them, but you couldn't see them.

Shaking your head at him, Stiles scoffed. Now wasn't the time to be stubborn, so he let it go. "Alright, come on. Come on!"

He began to drag you off in the direction away from the school's doors, and you didn't even care about the fact that he was pulling you so carelessly, you were tripping over your own two feet. You needed to get away.

You crashed into Stiles' body as he stopped abruptly, him seeing a single Ghost Rider at the end of the path. "This way, this way, come on." Just like that, he was pulling you back in the direction you came.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He shouted, skidding into another stop.

The tears rolling down your face were relentless, looking in multiple directions, but seeing absolutely nothing. Unlike Stiles, who had every reason to be afraid, but all he was worried about was you.

"Stiles!" You finally broke, a sob escaping your lips as you let him drag you around through the parking lot in attempt to escape. "Stiles, where are they?" You whimpered, huddling your body as close to his as possible.

He slowed his movements, panting breaths with eyes full of fear and panic as he looked around you both.

"They're everywhere."

The headaches you were beginning to feel made you feel numb. It hurt that much.

Heading to your locker, you raised your shaky hands to the combination lock that rested there, swirling in the combination.

You've never had headaches or migraines this severe, or repeatedly in one day. You never thought to keep spare Advil in your bag or locker. Glancing at the clock posted on one of the walls in the hallway, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of having a little more than 10 minutes until class started.

'Maybe the headaches would die down by then,' you thought to yourself, rummaging through your locker to put away larger textbooks only to replace them with the needed ones.

Your locker slammed shut, and you clamped the combination lock back together. Almost immediately, you turned your head to look across the emptier hallway. You looked at the set of lockers across the hall expectantly, but soon made a face of confusion. The action was almost an instinct, but nobody you knew was over there, you were met with an empty set of lockers.

"Don't look at them, Y/N, okay?"

Stiles was booking it to his powder blue jeep, hand latched with yours as he struggled to get the keys out of his back pocket. Neither of you skipped a beat when throwing yourselves into the front seats, hands reattaching almost immediately.

"Don't try to scream, they'll take you too. Do not look at them." He ordered, both of you jumping at the loud crack of lightening in the sky. However to Stiles, it was the whip of a Ghost Rider.

You shook your head rapidly. "I won't, I won't!" you assured him, heart lurching in your chest as you watched the car keys slip from his shaking grasp.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Stiles' hurried movements stopped, and instead of starting the ignition and driving out of here, he let his hand fall into his lap. "What are you doing? We need to get out of here!" You yelped, feeling your heart stop all together.

"There's no time." Was all he said.

He turned his body to face yours, using both hands to grab onto yours with need. "Y/N, I'm going to be erased, okay? Just like Alex. You're gonna forget me."

Alex. A name you didn't recognize. You knew it was the effects of the Ghost Riders, and didn't suppress the sob that left your mouth.

"No. No, I won't! I won't. I won't." You promised, your sobs escaping at every chance they could.

The only reason why you were sobbing as bad as you were, was because you were making a promise you couldn't keep. As you stared into the beautiful whiskey eyes of your best friend, as welcoming and calming as they were, they were beginning to look unfamiliar to you.

Stiles shushed your mumbles of promises by placing his larger hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. "You will." He whispered calmly, tears rolling down his own freckled cheeks as he gave you a small smile. "Just try to find some way to remember me, okay?"

Remember.

Your bottom lip trembled as you desperately grabbed onto his hands, your eyes never moving to look at anything but his own.

"Remember how you were the first person to know my real name?" He chuckled, eyes lighting up slightly at the sight of you giving him a breathless laugh at the hazy memory, soon followed by a sniffle.

Remember.

"Remember how you always liked to hold my hand in the hallways so you wouldn't get trampled, just like I'll always remember how you smile at me across the hallway from your locker." He spoke, words trembling while using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away to new set of tears.

You wept as you leaned into his slightly familiar hands, fighting with yourself to remember, but cried when you were only given a slight hazy vision.

You were forgetting.

Stiles tore his gaze away from yours quickly, before reconnecting them and sniffling. "Remember how you were the only person I talked to about my mom, Y/N. I trust you with my life." He breathed out, leaning his forehead against yours as his eyes shut.

"And I trust you with mine." You let out weakly, eyes closing as you savored the touch that, for some reason, brought you so much comfort.

Remember.

He pulled away slowly, peeling his eyes opened and you gasped. You didn't know those eyes, not one bit.

Stiles' heart shattered at the fact, he could see the scared look on your face clearly. Readjusting his grip on your face, he licked his lips nervously before speaking again."Remember... Remember that I've been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn't even realize until middle school." He chuckled humorlessly, swiping at the few stray tears that sprung from your eyes.

Remember.

You shook your head in his hold, the faint memories of your blossoming friendship since diapers flashing before your eyes. "Stiles." You wailed, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth to silence your cries.

The boy's eyes flickered past you, his heart stopping at the sight of a Ghost Rider just outside your window. He released a steady breath, leaning into your face.

"And remember this."

He whispered, and before you could ask, his lips were planted on yours.

Tears rolled down each of your cheeks, merging together in the places your faces were touching. It was a whole new set of waterworks, because as he kissed you, you could feel the distant wanting of this moment. However, it was crowded by the overwhelming feeling of unfamiliarity.

You pulled away, a ghost of a smile on your lips as you stared into a pair of beautiful whiskey eyes.

Remember.

The moment didn't last long at all.

Time seemed like it slowed instantly in this moment, but it hadn't at all — in fact, it happened way too quick for you to comprehend.

The door to Stiles' side opened by a large gust of wind, a Ghost Rider, and he was dragged out. You screamed, at an octave that would put a banshee to shame. Reaching out for the boy that was pulled out of the car by the wind, you choked on a sob when he disappeared with a crack of lighting.

Your arms wrapped around yourself as you pushed your body into the jeep at was slowly beginning to fade from your memory, the only word leaving your lips being 'Remember.'

You jumped at the feeling of a hand being placed on your arm, snapping out your daze to meet the concerned looks of Scott, Malia, and Lydia.

"You alright?" Scott asked softly, taking a step closer to get a good look at your face after getting a whiff of your anxious aroma.

As Scott stepped forward, Malia did too, inspecting your face with her naturally gruff expression. "People were looking at you stupid for staring at the lockers across the hall. Who are you looking for?" She asked bluntly, letting out a yelp from the whack on the arm she received from Lydia.

Despite how blunt her words were, you looked at her as tears filled your eyes. Her hard gaze softened almost immediately, feeling guilty as she thought what she said hurt your feelings.

But that wasn't it, not at all. It was the multiple painful headaches you got just from being at school for 10 minutes. It was the longing feeling you had in the pit of your stomach, the anxiousness you felt walking through the hallways because you were supposed to be with someone. You were looking for someone, but —

"I, um.. I can't remember."

in honor of EOTL pt. 2 almost being finished.. i am reblogging my baby 🥺🥺 i’m so fuckcifngc excited to post it

End of the Line [ 1 ] || Stiles Stilinski

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Author’s Note: This takes place during season 6A, when Stiles is taken by the Ghost Riders. A STYDIA SCENE TURNED INTO AN STILES x READER SCENE. Also, italicized text symbolizes memory.

Word count: 2,426

WARNINGS: I’d say none, but some might consider angst? I don’t know how this works yet.

Inspired by this song. Highly recommended you listen on repeat while reading!

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Your heart ached as you walked through the doors. It wasn’t an aching that you’d get from seeing a sad scene in a movie or seeing someone cry in public — it’s the feeling you get when you lose someone. You felt like you lost someone.

You felt lost. And you didn’t know why.

Frantic. You were so frantic, tears welling in your eyes as you scanned the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School in search of your hazel-eyed best friend.

Keep reading

End of the Line [ 2 ] || Stiles Stilinski

A/N: part two is here! there isn’t much stiles present in this until the end because.. he’s erased.. rip.. but I hope you read it still! STYDIA turned STILESxREADER. Some other scenes are changed around too. italicized text are memories.

word count: 8,239

WARNINGS: lots of angst and tears! but your heart will be mended at the end.

Inspired by this song and this song. Highly recommended you listen on repeat while reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ [ Part One ]

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You couldn’t tell if the reason the aching was due to your heart cracking in two or not, but you didn’t give it much thought as tears rolled down your cheeks. As you stood in front of the pack, your eyes darted over each one of their solemn faces that stared back at you. Your mouth was agape, opening and closing like a fish out of water as you tried to form a sentence. But you couldn’t, your body was frozen in place as you tried to process the utter betrayal of your friends.

‘Stiles can’t be her son.’

Lydia’s voice echoed through your ears, the words tumbling from her lips in defeat. You refused to believe them, though. From the night you woke up gasping for breath, the name ‘Stiles’ being the only thing you said, you refused to believe that he wasn’t real.

“We-” You stammered, bottom lip quivering as you locked gazes with the leader of the pack. “We have to keep looking for him. We have to keep looking for Stiles.”

Scott’s face fell, his heart aching as he watched his best friend break over someone none of you could remember. Although he was silent, it spoke volume to you. “What about a relic?” You tried, eyes darting to both Malia and Lydia desperately. The strawberry blonde sighed, her hand grabbing onto the wrist that was roughly handled not too long ago. “There’s no relic of Stiles-”

“We don’t know that!” You shouted at her, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and looking down at your shuffling feet to avoid their bewildered gazes.

Malia’s blunt voice was next to speak, “It doesn’t even sound like a real name.” She scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest while glancing over to the other two wary teens. “We’re fighting the wrong battle, Y/N.”

Your vision grew blurry with tears, and while you tried your best to make sure they didn’t fall, a few escaped in the process. “We’re trying to bring Stiles back.” Your voice was weak. The thought of your best friends abandoning someone so easily made your heart ache. “He’s out there, and we need to help him. We need to-”

“Enough!” The alpha’s voice suddenly boomed, making your heart stutter. You stared at him with bulging eyes, jaw dropped in shock at the volume of his voice. “The ghost riders are back, and we have no way of stopping them.” Scott spoke sternly, his eyes narrowed at you. “And whatever they are, they’re real. We can’t keep chasing after someone who isn’t.”

Malia instantly agreed with him, her head bobbing up and down. “We have to move on. He didn’t leave anything behind.” She said, the pair of them turning away from you and making their way towards the exit of the hospital. When you looked to Lydia with your bloodshot eyes and wet, flushed cheeks, your bottom lip began to quiver again.

“The only thing he left behind, was me.”

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Your fingers massaged your temples in attempt to soothe another one of the piercing headaches you’ve been getting since a couple weeks ago. You knew it had to deal with Stiles, it was the only explanation. For the past three months, up until a couple weeks ago, you never thought of a Stiles or felt as empty as you did now without him.

“Why don’t they believe me?” You croaked, letting your tear stained face fall into your hands as your shoulders raked with sobs. They didn’t stop, even when Lydia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He’s real, Lyd. I know it.”

“I believe you.”

Your hair stuck to your stained cheeks as your head to snap up to her direction. “After everything we’ve been through, I believe you.” Her words were soft, but sincere, and it was all you needed to pull her into an embrace you so desperately needed. You two held each other in silence, and you thought back of the event that took place a few days ago with the pack at the hospital — of them giving up on Stiles. Lydia pulled away when the shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the hallway, her hands coming up to your face to wipe at your cheeks and fix your makeup. “Let’s get to class.”

“Stiles, seriously, I need to get to class!”

Your laughter was loud as it bounced off the walls of the hallway. It was empty, just you and Stiles in it as he grabbed a hold of your wrist tans tugged you close to his body. Whipping around to face him, your laughter died down as you stared into his whiskey eyes, your lips curled into a soft smile.

“You have a bathroom pass, you’re okay to stay here for a few more minutes.” He assured, his bottom lip jutting out into a little pout to persuade you. With a playful roll of your eyes, and a cheesy smile, you sat back down on the stairwell.

“Okay, Stilinski, but you’re the one failing history. Not me.”

And once again, your giggles could be heard throughout the empty hallway as you watched your hazel eyed best friend do a victory cheer.

You inhaled sharply at the sudden ache to your head, a whimper leaving your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. You haven’t felt a pain like that for a few days, why is it starting again now?

Ignoring Lydia’s lingering concern, you adjusted the strap of your bag and quickly scurried off to AP Biology. Fortunately, you shared that class with Lydia, but you also shared it with Scott. Your bag made a small clattering sound when you plopped down in your assigned stool, your head falling into your folded arms. Your position stayed this way for pretty much majority of class, up until you felt a nudge to your side. Pulling your head from your arms, you turned to look at Lydia with furrowed brows, lips parting to ask what was wrong before she silently pointed outside the window.

Slowly following her gaze, you stared straight at what appeared to be an abandoned powder blue jeep.

“What if we gave it a paint job?”

You asked aloud as you leaned down to soak the large sponge in your hand with water from a bucket by your feet. Plopping it onto the hood of Stiles’ jeep, you bit back a smile after glancing at the spastic boy’s bewildered expression.

“No!” He gasped, sounded deeply offended. “I love this jeep. Rust, dents, and all. Plus, it was my mom’s and she never changed the color.”

Your lips pulled into a frown at his words, loosening your grip on the sponge and let it sit on the hood of the jeep, rounding the front of the vehicle to meet Stiles on the other side. “I’m not saying we change it, Sti, just.. make it look nicer. It’s like the homeless person of cars!”

You fell into a fit of laughter at his horrified expression, not missing the ghost of a smile he held on his freckled face.

“That’s it, you’re walking home!”

Your eyes grew wildly as you continued to study the jeep, ignoring the stinging to your skull as you turned to face Lydia, shaking her out of the daze you found yourself in seconds before. She quickly blinked back to reality, her eyes eagerly searching your own. “We need to get to that jeep.” You whispered, watching as her strawberry blonde hair swayed with the bobs of her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but was very soon interrupted by another voice.

“Ladies, is there something outside that’s more fascinating than the structure of the human mind?”

“No.”

“I don’t think so.”

You grimaced at the woman’s pointed gaze at your answer, quickly giving her an apologetic smile before she turned back to the rest of the class. As soon as her attention was off the pair of you, your eyes traveled back to the rusty jeep in the parking lot. “Now, many people credit the corpus callosum for giving us sense of intuition, gut instinct, even we ourselves aren’t aware-”

Her lecture was cut short by the screeching of stools. The sound made the class of teens divert their attention from the biology teacher to you and Lydia, who were looking around with a similar absent look in your eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out, only tears forming in your waterline. Thankfully, the teacher noticed, and with a labored sigh, she nodded towards the door. You quickly exited the classroom, faintly hearing an ‘I’ll be right back’ from Lydia and an ‘I’m going to go check on her’ from Scott. Your swift pace didn’t slow at the sound of another pair of clacking heels and thudding footsteps. Pushing past the school doors, you ran towards the man attaching his tow hook to the front of the jeep.

“Hey, wait!”

The man turned in your direction, an eyebrow raised with curiosity at your frantic behavior. “You can’t tow this jeep.” You spoke between pants, looking behind you to see Scott and Lydia walking up to your sides.

“Paperwork says I can. It’s been reported as abandoned.”

Your eyes rolled, and you pushed past the man to slap a hand on the hood of the vehicle, eyes narrowed up on his taller figure. “There. Now it’s not.”

The man opened his mouth to protest, but with the menacing glare Scott was giving him, he unclasped the hook from the hood of the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. The three of you looked between each other, clearly stumped as to why you went out of your way to stop the tow man. “Well, now we have a jeep- Scott, you okay?”

The teenager had his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting in concentration as he slowly walked towards the door of the jeep. You took a step back, too curious to interrupt what Scott was doing.

“There you guys are!”

All three heads snapped towards Malia, who’s dark brown eyes were eyeing the jeep intensely. “You heard it too?” Scott asked, pulling his face away from the window of the jeep. “It’s coming from inside.”

“Break it.” Lydia ordered, stepping closer to the group, “The jeep’s abandoned anyway, nobody’s going to say anything. Break it.”

Scott hesitantly nodded at her insisting, guiding the three of you away before smashing the driver’s side window. The ringing sound that the two werewolves could only hear grew, making it loud enough for you and Lydia to hear as well. “Is that a radio?” You asked, stepping forward to peek inside the jeep to find a police scanner installed into the vehicle. The four of you swiftly shuffled into the jeep, eyes locked on the device that kept its consistent ringing noise.

Then suddenly, it stopped.

And honestly, it felt like your heart might’ve too.

“Why’d it stop?” asked Lydia.

“It doesn’t matter,” you sighed, reaching out for the glowing on/off switch to shut it down. From the passenger seat, you turned to look back at Scott, who held that same perplexed expression from outside the jeep. “What? Did you catch a scent?”

Both teen wolves nodded at this, their noses twitching while they inhaled deeply. You were soon met with Scott’s dark eyes, confusion swirling in them. “Yeah, uh..” He shook his head in disbelief, eyeing each person inside. “Mine. Lydia’s, Malia’s. Yours.”

“Especially yours.” Malia added, slouching in her seat with scrunched brows before asking, “But how? I’ve never been in this jeep before.”

“Neither have I.” Scott said, propping his elbows on the back of the two fronts seats. You turned to face Lydia, who’s lips were twitching into a small smile. “Yes, we have.” She said quietly, and you were quick to catch on. “We just don’t remember it.” You finished quickly, your eyes searching both Scott and Malia’s desperately.

“I thought we were done with that.” Malia deadpanned, glaring at Lydia for getting you riled up again. The three of them continued their quarrel while you let yourself grow distant, a faint ringing in your ear that grew louder instantaneously.

The grip he had on your face readjusted as he licked his lips nervously. "Remember... Remember that I've been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn't even realize until middle school." He chuckled humorlessly, swiping at the few stray tears that sprung from your eyes.

You shook your head in his hold, the faint memories of your blossoming friendship since diapers flashing before your eyes. "Stiles." You wailed, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth to silence your cries.

The boy's eyes flickered past you, his heart stopping at the sight of a Ghost Rider just outside your window. He released a steady breath, leaning into your face.

"And remember this."

“Y/N!” You heard Lydia shout, pulling you out of your trance-like state. You sniffled, glazed eyes looking to hers before letting them wander to the rest of the group’s concerned stares. “I’m sorry I, uh, was just thinking of something. I’m sorry.” Your words were rushed before you bowed your head down to avoid anymore prying eyes.

“We found an address..” Lydia said gently, almost as if she were to speak any louder, you would break. “It’s 129 Woodbine Lane.”

Exhaling slowly, you lifted your head up, a small sound of disbelief tumbling from your lips. “That’s the Sheriff’s house.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“Girls, is this about Stiles again?” The Sheriff’s voice was stern as he looked between you and Lydia from across.

When you announced that the address was home to the Sheriff and Claudia, you and Lydia booked it to her car, rendering both Malia and Scott speechless. After being there for about fifteen minutes interrogating them about their apparently ‘stolen’ jeep, the two adults eventually caught on to your persistence. “Y/N,” Claudia called out to you, a soft, yet worried smile on her face. “Don’t you think it’s time to let this go? Talk to somebody about this?” She asked, shifting her attention onto Lydia as well. “Maybe it’s a good time to talk to your mothers about this..”

You stared at her blankly, worried that if you thought about nobody understanding what you and Lydia did in the slightest, that you’ll break. That you wouldn’t be able to put yourself back together this time.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Lydia said, collecting her things from the floor before she stood up from the lounge chair. The three of them conversed a bit longer, but it was all just background noise to you. You were too lost in your head to notice them make subtle glances towards you. Suddenly, you stood up, alarming both Claudia and the Sheriff. You could feel your hands shaking, so you held them, twiddling your thumbs rapidly. “Do you mind if I-” You choked out, resulting to just nodding your head in the direction of their restroom. Once granted permission, you rushed to the hallway, not caring that the three awaiting bodies could hear your pained cries. Your grip on your bag faltered, and you let it drop onto the floor. You stared at the wallpaper that Lydia had told you about peeling, and you found yourself gently rubbing the paper. Pressing your back to the very same wall, you slid down the wall with your head in your hands.

But what you didn’t know, was that the teenage boy with the unforgettable whiskey eyes was doing the very same thing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

As you sat in the driver’s seat of the rusted blue jeep, you let out a wince while your stomach churned, unable to fathom the familiarity the vehicle brought you. You just couldn’t remember where it came from. You sat there in silence with Lydia, waiting for Scott and Malia to return from wherever they ran off to after hearing a faint roaring in the distance.

“We’re gonna bring him back, you know.” Lydia’s voice broke the silence, attempting to ease your visibly distraught state. Although it didn’t work, you appreciated the effort. “How are we going to do that when we’re the only two people who believe he’s even real?” You asked, your eyes begging for an answer from your best friend even though she was unable to give you one. Just when Lydia’s jaw dropped to speak, footsteps approached you both quickly. You looked over to find a huffing Scott, his right hand clutched around something as he stopped by your window. “Where’s Malia?” You asked, looking past Scott briefly to see if she would turn up, but didn’t. “The roar,” Scott panted, eyes squinting as he recalled the previous event. “It was Peter’s. Peter Hale’s. H-He got out from where the Ghost Riders are keeping people, and he gave me this.”

Before you could ask more questions, a set of keys were in front of your face, hanging off of Scott’s index finger. You eagerly snatched the set from him, looking over them while Lydia climbed into the back seat for Scott to sit in the passenger. Giving the two of them another glance, you slid the key into it’s ignition, a laugh falling from your lips when it was a perfect fit. Turning the key, you heard the engine begin to roar to life, making a smile appear on your lips. Not soon after, there was a loud clunking noise, before the engine died down. “God! Stupid thing..” You grumbled, turning the key again while pressing down on the gas.

“Don’t flood it.” Scott warned, making Lydia cock her head at him with raised brows. “Do you even know what that means?” She asked, chuckling as Scott looked at her with a pained face. While the two engulfed themselves into a small bickering match, you managed to start the car, a squeak of excitement coming from you as you watched the lights inside the car come to life.

“Hello?”

The voice was faint behind the static being from the police scanner, but that was all it took for your heart to skip a beat or two. “Guys..” You mumbled, voice going unheard by Scott and Lydia as they continued their argument. “You guys!” You shouted, eyes looking between the two of them when they silenced, huffing out a breath before gesturing to the active police scanner. “Listen.”

“Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?”

And just like your own, both the boy and girl’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. Scott barely hesitated, snatching up the mic and putting it to his lips. “Stiles?” He asked tentatively, like he was waiting to be wrong. When the name fell from Scott’s lips, your body went rigid. The possibility of Scott actually believing you now made your eyes well up with tears, a hand reaching up over your mouth. You watched as Lydia grabbed the mic and put it to her own lips, “Stiles, is that you?”

The silence between the three of you was agonizing, the only thing you could do was wait for the familiar voice to ring through again.

And then it did.

“Scott, Lydia, is that you?”

The gasp you let out was muffled behind your hand, the tears in your eyes trickling down your face while you stared at your two best friends in awe. This was real. Stiles was real, and he’s alive.

“Oh my god, Stiles.” Lydia wailed, a tearful smile jerking at her lips along with Scott. “We can hear you.” He confirmed, making a glance at you before looking back at the small wired mic.

“Oh my god, you know me? You-you remember me?” Stiles asked, his tone showing evident disbelief. “Okay, okay, um.. Where’s Y/N? Is she there?”

Your eyes fell from Scott’s to the handheld device, only to look back to him. He gave you an encouraging nod, giving you the mic and staring with Lydia as you held it to your lips, asking quietly, “Stiles, is this.. is this really you?”

From the other line, you heard a slow breath of relief come from the radio. “Yeah, listen to me.. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?”

Your mouth fell agape, looking to the mic as if it had all the answers, while Scott and Lydia stared, expecting one from you.

“Remember… Remember that I’ve been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn’t even realize until middle school.”

Your eyes closed briefly, the blurry memory growing clear as your face scrunched up in concentration. Then it hit you. Moments before Stiles was taken. His love for you. And the kiss. Putting your lips back up to the mic, you spoke breathlessly. “You said.. You said ‘remember I’ve been in love with you, since the beginning.’ and then-” your bottom lip was worried between your teeth, a small sob escaping you. “And then you kissed me.” The words came out weakly, tears rolling down your face just as much as the night he was taken, but that was the only thing you knew from the distant memory. Scott took the microphone from you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to talk in the state that you were in. “Where are you? We’re coming to find you.” Scott asked hurriedly, knowing that his best friend was out there was putting him on edge.

“No, no. You can’t. You won’t be able to find me.”

He sounded so defeated through the radio, and god, did it break you. You thought that him talking to the three of you might be doing more harm than good to you right now. What if you wouldn’t be able to get him out?

“Stiles, what’re you talking about? Just.. Just tell us where you are and we’ll come, we’ll come.” Scott pleaded into the mic, eyes filling to the brim with salty tears, same as yours. In the distance, you could hear loud rustling from Stiles’ end, making you involuntarily lean towards the mic. “Just, just remember this. Canaan, okay? Remember Canaan.” His voice sounded panicked, and the rustling only grew louder. Stiles was in danger. Ripping the device from the tan boy’s hands, you cried into the mic, “No wait, Stiles, don’t go! Stiles!”

You were too late.

He was gone.

But, you were determined to bring him back.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

You looked between your pack in the dinning room of the McCall house, you felt as though you were stuck right at the beginning. Scott face was blotted with tears, his cheeks glistening underneath the light as he stared blankly ahead, repeatedly calling a disconnected phone number.

Your attempt to get Sheriff Stilinski on your side after hearing Stiles through the radio fell straight through, as he shot you, Scott, and Lydia down almost instantly. After looking through the underground tunnels, you managed to find a riff, but it was destroyed by the hellhound — who was being controlled by a supernatural Nazi from 1943. You could almost relate to how Stiles felt right now — uou were stuck, and you didn’t know what the next step was or if it was even worth it.

Lydia was the first one to break the fifteen minutes of silence. “Scott,” She sighed, placing her hand over the cellphone in the tan boy’s hand, slowly easing it down onto the table. “Your mom’s gone, but she’s still alive.”

“What do we do now?” asked Malia, her dark eyes looking to the three of you expectantly. She was never really one to follow rules or plans, but this was different — it was all you had left.

“We can’t hide from them.” You murmured, looking to your fingernails as you picked at them to avoid eye contact. “What about Lydia? The Ghost Rider was scared of her.” Malia pointed out, making you sigh and simply shake your head at her.

“No, it wasn’t fear. It was more like.. reverence.” Lydia said.

“It doesn’t matter!” You snapped, the weight in your heart only seeming to grow heavier with each breath you took. “The rift is gone. We’re the only ones left.”

Then it was silent.

Until it wasn’t.

The backdoor of the McCall house opened abruptly, creaking as Sheriff Stilinski stepped through. His light eyes looked to each of you while you stared back at him, confusion clear in the four of you.

“I have a son.”

And that was all it took for your hope to be restored.

Looking up at the older man with glossy eyes, your expression mimicked the three of your friends — hope and confusion.

“His name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. But we called him Stiles.” Noah’s eyes drifted to yours, an apologetic smile gracing his features before he cleared his throat. “I remember.. when Stiles was a little kid, he couldn’t say his first name. Not sure why, it pretty much rolls of the tongue. But, uh, the closest he could get, was ‘mischief.’” This time, the Sheriff’s eye’s drifted to Lydia, who was giving him a tight lipped smile to match with her green eyes.

The man pursed his lips, a dry chuckle rumbling from his chest as he looked to the four teenagers. “I remember when, uh.. Stiles first got his jeep. It belonged to his mother, she wanted him to have it. The first time he took it for a spin behind the wheel, he went straight into a ditch. I gave him his first roll of duck tape that day.” His lips curled into a smile as he thought back on the memory, and you couldn’t help but do the same because finally you could see it — you could see the end of the line. “We’re here tonight because my goofball son decided Scott and Y/N, two of his greatest friends in the world, into the woods to see a dead body.”

You blinked up at him, your jaw slacked while you tried to form a simple sentence in your head. “How.. How did you remember?” You asked, blown away at his ability to remember someone he so blatantly told you didn’t exist. Noah nodded towards Lydia, and you quickly whipped your head around with a watery grin on your face. “It started with Stiles’ jersey. Then I found the red string for his crime board. Finally, his whole room came back and all the memories.”

“Then the strangest thing happened.” The Sheriff scoffed, looking to Scott when his eyes furrowed curiously. “I thought I saw him.. Something opened, right in the middle of the room, just for a moment. Then it was gone.”

“A rift.” You mumbled, eyes growing in realization as you looked to the group. “I thought there was only one left? We saw it disappear.” Malia asked, referring to the portal that was now destroyed by Parrish — in his hellhound form. “You remembered Stiles, and that opened a new rift.” Lydia pieced together, pointing to Sheriff Stilinski who looked among you all with a lost look on his face.

Scott bowed his head, the ends of his lips twitching into a smile. “If the Sheriff can do it.. maybe we can too.” He proposed, looking to you with hopeful eyes. You grabbed ahold of his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and nodding to him. “The rift closed, but we can open it again.”

“How?” asked Malia.

“By remembering Stiles.” You said firmly, “we have to remember everything.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“How will we know when it’s working?”

Your question was muffled behind your fingers, your teeth gnawing on the nails and turning your skin soft. Lydia looked over her shoulder at you, eyes narrowed with pursed lips, and you immediately shut your mouth. You were in the Argent bunker, watching a locked Scott McCall travel through his own mind in some sort of cooling machine.

With Malia and Lydia on your side, you watched a Scott stood still with seeled eyes, waiting for further instructions from Lydia. “This isn’t working..” Lydia whined, her voice wobbling with panic as her eyes grew at the way Scott thrashed around in the machine. “You said he needs an emotional connection, right? Like what the Sheriff did?” Malia asked, stepping closer to Lydia who was pacing on the other end of the room. The strawberry blonde nodded, looking to the taller girl with glazed eyes. “He wasn’t just remembering someone, he was remembering his son. His family.”

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Stilinski?” You asked, crawling your way between him and the McCall boy as you all laid on the floor of his cluttered bedroom. Both of the boys shifted about on Stiles’ floor, making room for you before cozying up again.

“I don’t know, I just.. I don’t know.” The whiskey eye boy sighed, his tongue darting over his lips as he stared at the ceiling. You looked over to him, brows raised in concern as he struggled to find the words. With your bottom lip worried between your teeth, you let your closest hand reach out for his, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance which he returned almost immediately.

“It’s just.. ever since my mom died, and my dad being in the station majority of the time,” He mumbled, exhaling shakily before sitting up from his position. You and Scott both mocked him, sitting up with crossed legs in a small circle to see each other. “You two are my best friends, you know? You’re all I have left. Besides my dad, but he doesn’t risk his life nearly as much as we do and-” He paused, his eyes filling with tears that caused your own to prick with them. Looking to Scott, you watched as a small teardrop rolled down his tan cheek.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if something happened to either one of you. You’re family.”

“Scott!” You called out to the boy, gently tapping on the glass window of the machine in attempt to catch his attention. “Listen, I remember something. During our junior year we were with Stiles, okay? And-and he was talking about how.. how after his mom died, we were all he had left.” Your eyes welled up with tears, blocking your vision. You sniffled, not caring if the tears shed or not.

“He said that he wouldn’t know what he would do with himself if he lost one of us, that we’re family. But he’s lost right now, Scott. He’s lost and we need to remember him, we need to remember our family and find him.”

Your words seemed to strike a cord with the alpha, his thrashing stopped and he was mumbling things underneath his breath. But it stopped, and as soon as it did there was a deep rumbling sound, causing you and the girls to jump and stare at the flashing light coming from the window. As soon as it appeared, it vanished, and was replaced with a loud beeping sound coming from the machine. You were quick to act, pulling Scott out of it. Malia rushed over with a blanket she found lounging around and guided him to sit as you glanced at him.

“It was working, why’d you pull me out?” Scott asked incredulously, eyes bulging as he looked between the you and Malia. “You were going to die in there.” You said simply, catching a glimpse of Lydia who was already staring at you.

“How do you get Scott to do that?” She asked, tone almost accusing, as if she were piecing together some sort of puzzle.

You blinked at her, eyebrows scrunched together as you thought of the now distant memory. “When, uh, when you and Malia were talking about family, it triggered a memory of Stiles.” You mumbled, but it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “For the past few weeks, I would get these headaches.. and whenever the headaches came, so did the memories of Stiles. As soon as I remember though, it gets blurry — I forget. But I know they’re from him.”

You never looked up from your locked gaze on the floor, but when you did, you were met with three stunned stares.

“It’s you..” Lydia said quietly, her heels clacking faintly on the concrete floor as she made her way towards you. She grabbed ahold of your wrists, her sea foam green eyes boring into your own. “It’s all about connection, and you’ve had one with Stiles since the Ghost Riders took him.”

“It’s true.” Scott agreed, his teeth chattering slightly while he cuddled into the blanket around his shoulders. “When I was remembering him, I was also remembering the two of you together. I would also tease him for making it so obvious,” he chuckled, staring off distantly before he locked eyes with you. “Nobody had a connection like you two.”

You were speechless, staring between the three of your best friends with soaked cheeks. “Okay.. okay, so, what do we do?”

Just as you spoke the words of agreement, smiles appeared on their faces, which only made you mirror them. “We have to do it the old fashioned way.” Lydia stated, grabbing ahold of your shoulders and guiding you to an empty stool propped up next to the metal table. “We’re going to have to actually hypnotize you.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

You were in a classroom. A single desk occupied by you whilst you sat in front of a television, a remote settled on the wooden desk by your right hand. As you looked around cautiously, a ghost of a smile appeared, genuinely excited about the fact that you were actually hypnotized.

“Weird..” You whispered, your eyes darting around the empty classroom and to the television that displayed a static channel.

“Y/N? Are you in the classroom? Do you see the TV and remote?” Lydia’s voice echoed throughout the room, causing you to jump slightly in your seat. Your focus drifted to the remote, picking it up and inspecting it. “Yeah.. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Now, the remote gives you access to all of your memories. Find the memories of Stiles.” Lydia’s voice directed, and your thumb hovered over the power button, thinking of the missing boy before clicking play.

You heard the faint patter of footsteps approach you, it was a boy about your age, six years old. He had freckles scattered across his face, a shaved head and a sheepish smile.

“Hi. I-I’m Mi..Mie-Mieczy...” You watched as the boy sighed, his face heating up with embarrassment. When he looked back up to meet your eyes, you offered him a friendly smile, holding your hand out for him to shake. “Hi, I’m Y/N.. your name is Stiles? Your dad said so!” You asked, beaming happily when the boy, Stiles’, face visibly perked up at the fact that you knew his name. A small giggle escaped your lips as he shook your hand enthusiastically.

As you conversed animatedly with the younger version of Stiles, you could hear Sheriff Stilinski speak to your mother faintly in the background as they watched the two of you together. “Something tells me they’re gonna get along just fine.”

You gasped, no longer reliving the memory of the young version of yourself and Stiles. Now back in the empty classroom in front of the TV, you looked between it and the remote in your hand, a laugh of disbelief erupting from you and echoing throughout the room.

“Stiles..” You whispered, longing evident in your tone. In your trance, the three of your friends watched you intently as you whispered his name, making the flame of the candle flicker lightly. Lydia then cleared her throat, taking the lead once again. “Y/N, look for another memory of Stiles.”

You did as you were told, flickering through the multiple channels the television had to offer.

“You’re too pretty to be crying, Y/N.”

“No! You can’t go, it’s too dangerous!”

“Sometimes the person we’re looking for isn’t in the search at all. Maybe.. maybe they’re just right in front of us.”

Stiles’ voice echoed loudly around the room as you clicked through every memory, each one being passed by because none of them fit — none of them felt like what you were looking for. You landed on a channel, pausing briefly your rushed clicking and letting it play.

“I’m with you, ‘til the end of the line.”

It was Stiles’ voice again. No memory being played, just his voice, but you could somehow remember the exact moment of the conversation took place. “Is that a Marvel reference, you Star Wars nerd?” You heard your voice this time, echoing just like Stiles’ had been. A smile grew on your lips as the memory began to restore itself in your mind. “Yeah! But, you’re so into that stuff so.. it could be our thing! What do you think?”

“I think..” You found yourself whispering the same response you said in the memory, “I think it’s perfect. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, Sti.” You murmured in your trance, confusing the three teenagers once again. “Y/N.” Lydia’s voice called out to you again, “Find the memory that you and Stiles made a connection.”

You furrowed your brows, looking over your shoulder suddenly. There was a door, but it wasn’t there before. Setting the remote down, you picked yourself up from the wooden desk and made your way to the door, slowly pulling it open. You found yourself in the Sheriff’s house once again, but you weren’t alone. You were in a memory. This memory was different though, and you knew it as you made your way to where the memory was being played out. You always relived them, never watched them — but this one, you were exactly that.

You watched your eleven year old self sit down next to a boy around the same age, who you knew was Stiles, and place a hand over his. He had tears in his eyes, and his face was vacant of emotion. You watched as your younger self looked at him with sorrow eyes, and your heart broke when you realized what memory was being played.

“This was the night his mom died..” You mumbled, tears clouding your vision and you quickly wiped them to watch the memory continue being played out. No words were being said between your younger selves, but none were needed to be. You observed Stiles placing his head in your lap, tears rolling down his face at a quicker pace as his expression finally broke. He released heartbroken sobs as your fingers ran through his hair, your younger self staring ahead. If you didn’t know that this was a memory, you would’ve thought she were staring right at you.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why this memory was being played, and your jaw slacked at the realization. “That’s when it happened.” You whispered in shock, finding yourself slowly being pulled from the trance.

“That’s when what happened?” You heard Scott’s faint voice ask. The vision of three of your best friends were blurry as you were snapping back to reality, and they all were looking at you expectantly as you cried.

“The night his mom died, when I was there.. H-He was crying with his head in my lap. That’s when it all changed.” You spoke while staring off at the candle, who’s flame was now burnt out. “I-I didn’t realize it until now, but that... that was the night we fell in love.”

At this point the tears trailing down your face were relentless, only growing worse when you painfully gasped. “I was there! I was there the night he was taken.” You sobbed, hands covering your mouth while Scott, Lydia, and Malia’s faces contorted with shock. “When the Ghost Riders took him, I was there.”

As you stood up from the stool, the ground shook beneath your feet, a bright, zapping light took over the room before disappearing behind the door. You glanced back to the three teenagers behind you, taking a step forward and carefully opening the door, revealing a blinding white light at the end of the tunnel.

Stiles turned his body to face yours, using both hands to grab onto yours with need. “Y/N, I’m going to be erased, okay? Just like Alex. You’re gonna forget me.”

“No. No, I won’t! I won’t. I won’t.” You promised, your sobs escaping at every chance they could.

“You will.” He whispered calmly, tears rolling down his own freckled cheeks as he gave you a small smile. “Remember… Remember that I’ve been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn’t even realize until middle school.”

“I never told him,” Your voice croaked at you spoke aloud, walking closer to the white light. “I never told him how I felt before they took him. That I love him. I never said it back!” You shouted, the feeling of Scott grabbing ahold of your arm to keep you from walking towards the light making itself present.

Then suddenly.. there was no need to walk towards the light.

Because there was a figure standing in front of it.

You let out a cheerful laugh, tears bunching at the creases by your eyes as you stared at the familiar shadowy figure, gasping out it’s name.

“Stiles.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“Where is he?” You whimpered, feeling your knees buckle at the thought of failing Stiles yet again. Gripping onto the stool, you looked to Lydia and Malia, who were staring at you sympathetically. “We didn’t see anyone.” Lydia spoke gently in attempt to keep your emotions from spilling.

Scott had left you with both Malia and Lydia to keep trying to bring Stiles back and to be here just in case he comes here looking for any of you.

“I saw him. It was working, I know it.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but with Malia’s supernatural hearing ability, she heard you loud and clear. You stared at her blankly as she hopped up to her feet, pulling open the door and beginning to step out. “Um, where are you going?” Lydia asked from where she was next to you.

“To go find Stiles,” Malia stated as if it were obvious. “Listen, Stiles isn’t coming here. If he were, he would’ve, but he hasn’t, so he’s not.”

You blinked at her, deciding to disregard her last sentence before standing up yourself. “You believe me?” You asked her, and when she silently nodded her head, you were quickly on her side. “Okay well,” You trailed off, turning to Lydia who was still sitting on the stool. “Stiles is out there, I can feel it. So please, Lyd, help us bring him home.”

You watched as the strawberry blonde pursed her lips, lifting herself off of her own stool before strutting over to you. “Let’s go find him.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“Y/N! What are you doing here?” You heard Scott yell from the end of the hallway of Beacon Hills High. Stumbling over the train tracks that were magically built into the floor, you grunted as you fell into his chest. “I’m looking for Stiles.” You answered with a shrug of your shoulders, watching Scott’s eyes grow with an emotion you really didn’t have time to decipher. “I’m going to places he’s most likely to show up while Lydia and Malia look at where the other train track lead, but his jeep’s gone.. So I won’t be able to look anywhere else but here on foot.”

Scott eyes darted around as his mouth opened and closed, trying to find something to say. “I, uh, took it? Yeah, Liam needed me so I hotwired the jeep and drove to the hospital.” He explained, a sheepish smile on his lips. You nodded slowly at his explanation, not really seeing all the pieces fitting together. “Okay.. so where is it now?”

“What? Oh! It’s still at the hospital. I, uh.. ran.. here.”

You rolled your eyes at his painfully awkward replies, pulling away from him and beginning your journey down the hallway. “Well, I’m going to the lockerooms.” You announced, peering back at Scott who was now conversing with Lydia, who appeared out of absolutely nowhere. “Take Lydia with you! There are Ghost Riders everywhere.” Scott shouted, giving Lydia a shove before dashing off into the other direction.

“He seems a little.. off.” You said to Lydia, chuckling softly. The two of you walked side by side through the eerily silent school, occasionally checking over your shoulders in case you needed to defend yourself. “Yeah, but that’s Scott McCall for you.” She laughed nervously which you furrowed your brows at.

“You know, you’re acting just like hi— Lydia, look out!”

Your words quickly caught her, and the Ghost Rider’s attention. “Cover your ears.” Lydia warned, her voice low but stern and you quickly did as you were told, squeezing your hands to your ears as Lydia released one of her banshee shrieks, sending the Ghost Rider flying into the set of lockers. It was silent, and you slowly pulled your hands away from your ears, stepping closer to Lydia to see the damage done.

But when you did, you felt your heart stop. All because were staring straight into a pair of whiskey eyes, and while you did, you felt all the memories with those eyes come rushing back.

“Lydia..” You heard Stiles’ voice say with relief, a smile appearing on his lips at the sight of his best friend. Deciding to come into better view, you shuffled to the side of Lydia, and the scuffling of your feet surely brought attention from the two other people in the room. “Y/N..” He mumbled, his voice holding a whole new different emotion as his hazel eyes filled with tears. In the background you could hear the clacking of Lydia’s heels fade away, giving you two your moment.

You didn’t know what to think as you slowly stepped towards the boy, almost as if you were to rush towards him any quicker, he’d disappear. A face you haven’t seen in months was finally in view, and the gaps in your memory were finally being filled by the boy you loved — it all made sense again. It was that moment where all the tears, all the fighting, all the heartache- it felt worth it. It felt like the world finally made sense again.

“Is this real?” You croaked, a weak sob eliciting from you when your hands reached out to cup his cheeks, all while staring into frantically into his eyes. The brunette quickly leaned into your touch, his tears rolling down his cheeks and onto your hands as he greedily soaked up the feeling of you touching him — deprived of it for what felt like an eternity. “It’s real, I’m here. I’m here, I’m real.” He repeated to you, eyes fluttering shut before he held the back of your head to his chest, nuzzling the tip of nose into your hair.

The moment, however, didn’t last long before you were thrashing in his hold. “I never said anything back,” You wailed, bottom lip quivering as you recalled the last memory you had of him. “You told me you loved me, and I never said it back. I never told you how I felt.” You panicked. You felt the heat rush to your neck and cheeks as Stiles gripped onto your face as a way to snap you back. Fortunately, it worked, and you were staring at him wide eyed while he simply looked at you with his same beautiful, lopsided smile.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was all he said before his lips were slanted on yours, involving you in a kiss that was completely different the first one the two of you shared. The first kiss, it was frantic, rushed. Stiles kissed you because at the time, it was the last time he would ever see you again. This kiss, however, was slow and it said everything that words couldn’t. You felt your breath hitch, your body melting into his as you kissed him back with love and longing — two emotions that overwhelmed your body more than any other. You felt the grip he had on your face tighten, pulling you even closer to his body as he pushed as much passion as he could into the kiss. Finding yourself holding onto his flannel overshirt, you couldn’t help but shuffle your feet closer to close any existing space.

He was the first to pull away, his forehead pressed to yours once more while he inhaled deeply to catch his breath with you doing the same. Your eyes were open, scanning over his face and looking over each freckle and beauty mark that littered his face gracefully, bringing a small smile to your lips.

And as the boy in front of you slowly peeled his eyelids open, revealing the beautiful whiskey color you found yourself in love with, you knew this was it.

He was back in your arms again, more real than ever. Not a pounding headache of a memory. Not a faint dream that had you gasping for breath in the middle of the night. Not a figment of your imagination. He was real and this was it.

This was the end of the line.

↞ roscoe-dream’s masterlist ↠

this is mainly a dylan o’brien writing blog, but hopefully i’ll start writing for a few more fandoms soon! i just started writing for another fandom, so i’m updating my masterlist!

also if you’re looking to make a request for any of these people/characters, i have a tab dedicated for you to do so!

⠀

↱ masterlist for DYLAN O’BRIEN + CHARACTERS

characters include: stiles stilinski, void!stiles, stuart twombly, dave hodgman, thomas, mitch rapp, and sam taylor.

⠀

↱ masterlist for TOM HOLLAND + CHARACTERS

characters include: peter parker.

⠀

⠀

extra information

i don’t think i will be writing peter parker smut, that idea might change if there’s something i can imagine, but i highly doubt it.

the fics that contain smut have been labeled in their summaries, and a further description of what the story has in it is listed in the warnings :)

hopefully this master list grows longer as i begin to venture off into other fandoms! i actually want to start writing for mgg and all of his characters in the near future.

My flannel

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

I awoke to an involuntary shiver coursing through my body. Instinctively, I stretched my arm out in search of my boyfriend, Stiles, but he wasn't there. Emitting a disheartened groan, I shifted my focus towards Stiles' side of the bed, only to discover the window agape, permitting the morning sun to cascade within, its brilliance so intense it could potentially blind those who dared to gaze in its direction. Flipping on my back, I rubbed away the remnants of sleep from my eyes before lifting the sheets away from my nearly exposed form. The moment that the fabric was off my body, the wintry breeze made its presence known, caressing my bare arms and legs. I got out of bed, stumbling over towards the window, almost falling down multiple times, but eventually managing to close and lock it.

I looked around the room, seeing my clothes scattered about. Sighing, I made my way to the open closet, rummaging through Stiles' collection of flannels and jackets until I found the one I wanted to wear. I pulled a multi-colored flannel out of his closet, putting it over my shoulders, and buttoning up all the buttons before descending out of his room, making my way down the stairs and into his kitchen.

Immediately upon entering the room, I saw Stiles sitting at the island table, scrolling through his phone. Sneaking up behind him, I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, before placing multiple kisses from his jaw to his cheek "Morning," he mumbled, leaning back into my arms.

"Hey Sti," I murmured into his neck.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, I reluctantly pulled away, only to perch myself upon his lap moments later. Settling into a crisscrossed posture, I leaned back into his chest. "Am I just a chair to you?" He teased, a laugh accompanying his joke.

"Yes, and my own personal footrest," I retorted, offering a bratty smile before quickly turning away.

"Ouch, I feel so used." He faux- pouted, before dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if it was wounded.

Glancing back at him, I noticed his gaze fixed upon me. However, he wasn't looking at my face; he was looking at what I was wearing. He bit his lip before speaking up. "Is this mine?" He lightly pinched a portion of the fabric, tugging it lightly.

"No, it's mine," I asserted, looking down at my hands.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure that belongs to me," he said, trying to bite back a laugh.

My eyes widened at the thought of being caught, as my protectiveness over the flannel intensified. "My shirt," I declared, arms crossed defensively as I turned my head to the side, a pout on my face, as I hoped that Stiles wouldn't make me give his flannel back.

Stiles lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, all while looking me dead in the eyes. "What does that say?" He asked, pointing to his name that was written on the the tag.

"Fine, it's yours," I said, sighing in defeat.

"I like how it looks on you," he pressed a light kiss to my temple, quietly laughing at the way my eyes lit up.

"Does that mean I can keep it?" I asked, offering the widest smile I could muster.

"Absolutely not. But you can wear it whenever you want." He said, his hands settling on my thighs, as he rubbed his hands up and down.

"I'll take it!" I said, grabbing his coffee and drinking out of it before making a face of disgust.

"Ew, what did you put in this?" I questioned, frowning as he laughed at me.

"I didn't put anything in it, it's just coffee," he explained, pointing to the dark liquid in the cup.

"This is disgusting," I said, pouting even more as his laughter persisted.

Raindrop romance and puppy dog eyes

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

I was at my locker, discussing the upcoming math test with Lydia when I felt a pair of arms wrapping around my waist from behind. “Boo!” I heard my idiotic boyfriend, Stiles, say.

With a grin, I slammed my locker shut and turned around to face him. “Hi baby,” he said, pulling me close in a warm embrace.

“Hey Stilinski, stealing my girl away from me again?” Lydia said, a playful frown on her face as she folded her arms.

"Um, excuse me, since when was she your girl? Did I miss something? Because last night, she was definitely moaning my name," Stiles responded, a smirk playing on his lips.

Lydia scoffed, delivering her response with an attitude, “well, I've known her longer."

"Well, that sucks because I don’t give a shit."

“Okay, guys, that’s enough,” I intervened, teasingly rolling my eyes to end their banter before it could escalate and potentially giving me a headache.

"But, he-" Lydia started, only to be cut off by Stiles. "Me?" He asked in mock shock, causing me to let out a groan.

"Can you both please shut up so I can go home?" I teased, grabbing Stiles by the arm and playfully dragging him out the door.

Once we stepped outside, heavy raindrops were falling. Turning to Stiles with a wide grin, I yelled, "tag!" and dashed toward his jeep.

"Oh, you little bitch! You’re so gonna get it!" He yelled back, chasing after me.

It didn't take him long to catch up, and before I knew it, he was grabbing my waist. "Tag!" He declared, out of breath, hugging me from behind. After a moment, I pushed his arms off of me and took off running. "Nope."

"Oh, you little dick." He yelled, attempting to catch up, but I was already in the car with the door locked before he could.

Reaching the driver's side, he tried to open the door, but frowning when he realized it was locked. He looked up with puppy dog eyes, causing me to return his gaze with a proud smile. “Baby, please open the door,” he whined, pressing his forehead against the glass, and knocking on the window, instantly making me cave in.

As soon as I unlocked the door, he rushed in, slamming it shut before rubbing his hands together in an attempt to get warm. “Can you turn on the heater please?”

Wingman || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: After following his friends to the monthly 'Singles Night' on campus, Stiles finds himself in a powerful position of helping Y/N choose a contender for her future love life.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos

Notes: hello! this is my first published fic! i hope you guys like it!

“Stop looking at me like that, I didn’t ask you to come along,” you said, tone gruff as your eyes glared upward toward the unusually quiet Stiles Stilinski. Your furrowed eyebrows mirrored his perfectly, noses crinkled, fingers curled. His taller stance would be intimidating if it wasn’t for the friendship you both held. “Stiles, seriously, come on…”.

He huffed, “I just don’t understand why you’re dragging yourself to one of these… drunken flirt fests!” His large hands waved in front of his face, gesturing something lewd and unreadable. “And YOU…” His attention finally turned toward the male on your right-hand side, Scott’s sheepish grin tugging at his lips, “You’re not any better endorsing this behaviour!”

“I was, uh, actually gonna join in on the fun. Y/N managed to convince me in our Psyh ED lecture today”. Scott’s hands slipped casually into his leather jacket as his shoulders lifted in a shrug. You could see the excitement sparkle in his eyes, reciprocated on the grin still curling his lips upward. He needed this change of pace after his prolonged break-up with Kira.

“I’m sorry? Am I just not a part of this friend group anymore? What happened to the three musketeers, huh?!” Stiles returned to his somewhat normal self with a slightly raised voice and dramatic flair. His eyes rolled back in disgust as you all neared the most populated bar on campus. “You know what, no, it’s fine. I get it. You both hate me, making plans behind my back. Eventually leaving me behind when you find your lovers of the night. Whatever.” He quickly dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, expressing his sarcastic nature.

A scoff pushed through your lips, “You’re an idiot”.

“I’m a realist.”

“Dude, let’s just have a good night, okay? You’re free to leave if you want…” Scott trailed off as he opened the bar’s door for you, smiling in return to your friendly head nod of thanks. His hand remained flat against the heavy wooden slab, eyebrows perking up in silent question toward Stiles as he waited for an answer. Stiles, however, had his mind elsewhere as he stood on the tips of his toes, digging the end of his converse into the ground, eyes scanning the few looks you received as you wandered toward the bar. It was Scott’s turn to roll his eyes now, “Just get in here.” He huffed, his spare hand grasping the collar of Stiles khaki bomber as he dragged his friend inside with him.

You failed to notice the lack of your friends as you peered around yourself, taking in the atmosphere of the monthly ‘Singles Night’ event that always managed to take your campus by storm. This was your first time in attendance, though, continuously known for holding yourself back in fear of not enjoying yourself or leaving with someone worthwhile. You bit the bullet after days of mulling over the idea, your decision made final when Scott’s prying about your mood led to him agreeing to tag along. You knew that he wasn’t only coming for support, but rather, to have a good night of his own. And Stiles? He was just a surprising bonus.

“What would you like, darlin’?” The deep voice of the bartender spoke, slightly startling you from gazing over the multitude of people around you. Your eyes widened as you faced the man, probably only a couple of years older than you. He looked tired, as if he’d spent the last few hours pouring himself into his own college work. “If you don’t mind me making a suggestion, you look like a ‘Tequila Sunrise’ kinda gal.”

“You don’t even know me and you’re making assumptions about my drinking habits. That’s ballsy.” You cooed, arms crossing over the part of the bar that wasn’t covered in stickiness from spilled drinks. You shook your head slightly before listening to the familiar bickering voices approaching you; Scott and Stiles still up in arms about being in attendance to, what Stiles refers to it as, a breeding ground for STDs. “You’re lucky that I’m a tequila fan. And also, two whiskey sours, please.” A smile curled on your lips as the bartender gave you a wink in acknowledgment, turning his back to make your requested beverages.

“What’d you say to him?” Stiles quipped almost immediately, sliding up beside you before pulling back with a small squeal as his arm touched the sticky bar top that you made sure to avoid. He cursed under his breath with a disgusted expression contorting his features – it was a sight that never failed to make you laugh. His eyes squinted as he looked back to you, “He winked at you. Was it like, a ‘oh yeah everything is totally cool’ wink, or a… sexual wink…?”.

“I ordered your dumb asses a drink. That’s all.” You replied, turning your back to lean against the bar, watching as Scott chuckled at the scene before him. You hummed, arms crossing in front of you, unintentionally pushing your chest up in your near low-cut dress. “Or maybe…” You began, leaning in closer to Stiles, a mischievous look on your face, “I just told him to fuck singles night, and I’ll take him home instead”.

Stiles gasped, rather loudly, “You did NOT”. His hand flew over his heart, taken aback by your words. It was clearly obvious that he was trying to retain eye contact and not let his eyes trail elsewhere. You were both oblivious to the bewilderment of Scott at your exchange – but he loved a good show.

“Of course, I didn’t. Seriously, Stiles, who do you take me for?” If your eyes could roll any further back, they’d fall from your sockets. You were broken from your conversation when the clinking of three glasses slid behind you, the bartender graciously accepting your card to pay for the beverages. You mouthed a friendly ‘thank you’ before moving across the room with Scott and Stiles hot on your heels, drinks in hands.

A collaboration of music, laughter, and humming voices enlightened your senses before Scott found an empty table to sit at, his eyes already scanning the room for potential conversation goers. The room seemed larger than it usually did when you’d come after class; the lights were tinted with different colors to create atmosphere, and furniture moved around purposely to create conversation nooks. He nearly spilled his drink as you nudged his shoulder, “She’s cute”. The tanned male looked over his shoulder at the person you were referring to, a beautiful and equally tanned girl sat with her friends, long dark hair cascading down her back. Scott evidently gulped.

“Go on Scotty, make a move. We know you want to.” Stiles spoke lowly, fake boredom dripping from his words as a sigh fell from his lips. Always with the dramatics. Stiles was nearly pushing his friend from the stool in order to build momentum, making sure to tip the whisky sour back when Scott attempted to take a sip. It was mere seconds before the liquid courage was completely gone from the glass. Scott shook his head with force, a smile soon gracing his lopsided jaw. Stiles patted his shoulder before pushing him toward the stunning girl, “Go forth, my son. Make me proud.”

You giggled around the straw hanging in your mouth, both surprised and prideful as Scott got further away. He was braver than you, and instead of jealousy, you felt appreciation. Your view was obstructed by your shaggy-haired friend, his lips pursed as he clicked his tongue. You could tell that he still didn’t know why he decided to come along. “You can leave whenever you want, Sti. It’s fine”.

“No, no way. Not until I scope out these jerks until we find you a good one. I’m very picky, Y/N, you know that.” He was quick to mention, avoiding your eye contact with the rim of his glass pressed to his lips. Stiles wasn’t impressed by what he saw – muscular, well-groomed men with hunger in their eyes and a taste for the sweet stuff. There was no way in hell he’d let you leave with a stereotypical jock like them. One Jackson Whitmore was enough to experience, he didn’t need another for you to hang from. He returned to clicking his tongue, a small groan pushing past with his words, “Not getting a good vibe, you know.” His hands, once more, waving erratically in front of him to indicate the space around you both.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I brought a wingman with me tonight.” Your amused tone finally brought his eyes to yours, provoking you to laugh under your breath. Your smile remained when he smiled back at you, genuinely. You inhaled deeply, eyes briefly closing as you exhaled. “Okay. This is the plan… I’m going to wander around, find a guy, bring him back. And you can grill him. If he passes, I get to take him back to my dorm and you never speak of this again. Deal?” You declared, much to his surprise, and held your hand out to him.

Stiles loved a challenge. “And if none of them pass? Then what?”

“Then I take YOU back to my dorm.”

He visibly choked on his drink, bemused from your shocking words. He was frozen. Stunned. Most of all, he was unsure of your sincerity. His words stuttered out incoherently, “So I-I get to ask, what-whatever… whatever I want?”

“Sure, but play fair. This is my future love life on the line, Stiles.” You reminded him, your hands thrusting back out across the table.

“It’s a deal”.

__________

Five guys in, and Stiles still wasn’t impressed. According to his ‘very descriptive’ feedback, they were either losers or dickheads. They weren’t promising enough for his liking, and he knew that you deserved better – no, you deserved the best. He was nearly through his third drink for the night when you brought over another protentional candidate, hope filled your eyes which Stiles tried to unsee. He stared intently at the new man across the table, not entirely put off by the way he presented himself.

“Stiles, this is Adam. Adam, this is Stiles… the biggest cock-block in all of history.” You managed a sarcastic, yet cheery voice when Adam reached out to shake Stiles’ hand; Stiles made sure to keep his tucked away in his crossed arms. You cleared your throat, “So… Adam is in Veterinary Science and is a Junior. He’s also super cute.” It was hard to control your wording when you were also three drinks down. By now, it was hard to tell whether the redness gathering on your cheeks was from the alcohol or the way Adam called you beautiful in return for your small comment.

Stiles wasn’t having any of it. “Okay, Adam… how many sexual partners have you had?” He asked with a straight face, feeling uneasy from the flirting happening in front of him. He didn’t appreciate the way the other man was looking to your chest, not even trying to behave. At least Stiles had the decency to respect you enough to look away. His lips though did perk up at the blank expression now facing him from Adam himself.

“I , ugh.. man, I don’t know. Like, more than five, less than ten?” Adam replied, clearly not prepared for the showdown Stiles had planned.

“Isn’t that kind of a red flag, Y/N? The dude doesn’t even know how many girls he’s screwed.” Stiles stated, his eyes looking down to you. He didn’t let you answer, nor, did he look away from you when he continued his questioning. “What color are Y/N’s eyes? Just curious since you’re so interested in what’s happening a little further down.”

“They’re.. dude it’s dark in here, I don’t know-“

“She has [color] eyes. Something you’d be able to answer if you weren’t being such a perv.” Stiles leaned back in the barstool, trying to not feel so smug and proud for pulling apart the man in front of him. Although he was enjoying himself, he was also disappointed that the men you’ve brought forward tonight weren’t even close to being in your league. You deserved to be happy.

Adam was quick to cower before dropping from the stool, shuffling off across the room until he was hidden from your view. You sighed, “Wow, Stiles. Really hit that one hard. What are you going to do to the next one? Ask them to whip their dick out, see if it’s big enough!?” You were beginning to feel hopeless, the tone of your voice reflecting anger and despair. You just wanted to shut your eyes and wake up in your dorm room, curled on your bed, binge-watching Netflix with a pint of ice cream. Maybe Stiles was right from the beginning… maybe you shouldn’t have dragged yourself here tonight. You wondered if Scott was having better luck than you.

Stiles downed the last of his drink, his hand gently clasping over your wrist as his other wiped his mouth “There won’t be a next one” He said quietly beside your ear, causing the hairs on your next to stand. He pulled back with softened eyes and a slight frown upon his lips, head shaking softly, “This isn’t about the deal anymore. Y/N… honestly, none of those guys were good enough for you. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend and I liked to watch them squirm. They either were horny bastards who clearly wanted sex, not a relationship. Or they didn’t have any future prospects, like you, like you’ve been working so hard for. They weren’t long-term. You deserve someone long-term.”

“Someone that will always be there for me?” You could barely hear the words fall from your lips, but Stiles did. His frown slightly lifting as he realized that you were beginning to understand the reasoning for his behavior. “Someone that has… always… been there for me?”

“Yeah.” Now it was him who whispered, unable to look away from your growing eyes. He stared intently at you as he replayed short bursts of memories over and over in his head about what made you so amazing. So special. So perfect. He knew that if anybody was going to treat you right, treat you as the gorgeous-hearted person you are, then it was him. Undoubtedly.

“I think it would be unfair if we backed out of the deal.” Your smile grew quickly, finally able to see that the comfort you’ve had beside you for all of these years was everything you’ve been searching for. It just needed a push.

“I mean, if you’re cool with that… I’m definitely cool with that, by the way.”

You nodded at his reassurance, “We can watch a movie, we can cuddle with your arms wrapped around me, make out a little?” You were glued to his eyes still, the tension and intimacy from such a simple action was only making your heart burst.

“That’s perfect, Y/N. It’s a date.”

tie cherry stems with my tongue

Stiles Stilinski x reader

Sinfully indulgent. Unadulterated filthy fluff, just utter decadence. (Bathtub sex. It's bathtub sex.)

This is sort of an unofficial gift for one of you who rbed ykhtp with the most delightful tags which i reread daily but whom i don't have the guts to personally call out so... hope you recognise urself and enjoy, I made this for you <3

3.3k words

Today, Stiles came home for the first time all year. The FBI had sent him eastward to solve a string of maulings in Louisiana, larceny in Maryland, arson in Tennessee. Bringing him back to Beacon Hills had been a tedious affair, endless rigmarole, bureaucracy and paperwork until you snapped and insisted that your wedding anniversary was coming up fast, and if they didn't let you celebrate together so help you God—

They released Stiles 'on ordinary furlough for the end-of-year holidays.' Yeah, right. Spiteful fuckers.

He texted you all the way up until he had to set his phone on airplane mode, and called you the second he touched ground. By the time he'd fetched his luggage and slogged through customs, you were waiting to pick him up with a bundle of Swiss chocolates.

"Babe, over here! Long time no see!" He waved at you from across the gates, smile dazzling. The closer he got, the more you feared going permanently blind from the sheer mirth he radiated. "God, I missed you so much."

"Welcome back, stranger," you grinned and hugged him one-handed so as not to crush the delicacies.

He enveloped you in a bear hug, so much bigger and stronger than the spindly teen you fell for, yet no less adorable. Your face nuzzled in his chest, his own head atop yours, and your arm could hardly circle his back.

"I love you," he said against your ear, tightening the embrace.

Eyes shut, you basked in the warmth of his presence. "I love you too."

At your request, he'd ditched the suit and dressed in plain civilian clothes, chinos and an old Star Wars tee you'd gifted him on his sixteenth birthday. The fabric was still soft, though worn and washed out in places, smelling distinctly of cedar and magnolia. How he stuck to the same brands of cleaning products you used still amazed you. When you'd asked, he had explained it made everything, even government-issued outfits and impersonal hotel rooms, feel a bit more like home, like waking in your arms and wearing the laundry that just came out of the dryer.

"Okay, big man, you're smothering me," you giggled after almost a full minute, tapping his shoulder.

"No I'm not," he pouted like a kid. He sounded simultaneously sulky and smug as his hands slid to your waist and he pressed his forehead to yours. "I was exceedingly careful, my hugs are optimised to please and comfort you. It's a finely honed skill, okay? You gotta respect the hugs."

"Aw, I do," you said and kissed him — you'd meant for it to be chaste and quick, public setting obliging, but couldn't help lingering when he moved against your lips. Catching a breath, you intoned, "Let's take this home, yeah? I've booked us a table at The Silk Road for half past seven. Plenty of time to do whatever we want until then."

"Have I told you I love you?"

You proffered the box of chocolates and hummed, "Tell me again when you've tasted these."

"I love you, you're the best."

He pulled away, one hand still on your hip, and balanced the present on his bag. A part of him was keen to follow you to your shared house (and, if your implicit promise held up, bed); another was too enthralled in the immediate instant to exercise something as pedestrian as patience. Scanning your face, he brushed against your lips whenever he caught a lapse in your attention, like a cat pouncing on a distracted mouse and letting it run off only to keep hunting it.

"Hey, watch yourself. People are staring," you playfully admonished as he missed your lips and nipped your neck instead.

"So what?"

"You shameless flirt." You rolled your eyes and headbutted him lightly when he dipped again.

Miraculously, you drove home without the beloved Jeep (you took it out of retirement to greet its owner) breaking down or Stiles getting distracted off the motorway. A close brush, or so you feared, considering neither his gaze nor his hands had any interest in leaving your body.

As the engine sputtered to a halt, he sped around to open your door and escort you out of the car.

"Why, thank you, kind dear," you put on a posh, nasal voice, soon breaking into laughter. "God, did the FBI fix you up with a crash course in chivalry? I might have to recommend them to Theo."

Stiles' nose scrunched up. "Eeeh, yeah, he's a piece of work." His cheery mood brightened his face again as he walked you to the front door. "Glad you're likin' the manners. There's more where that came from."

"I can't wait," you said, fetching the keys from your purse.

When the house was open and you'd taken a step over the threshold, Stiles didn't. He stood in awe and nostalgia, nudging you back. His hands clutched yours, thumb rubbing circles in your palm, and he stared with those shiny honeyed eyes full to the brim with a love like champagne — bright and bubbly and intoxicating.

"What?" You couldn't help a chuckle. "Chickening out so close?"

His smile was wide and floaty. "It's like our first date," he mused. "I want to kiss you."

"You can."

He cupped your cheeks, pushed himself against you, into your home, lips on sweet lips. A purely gluttonous appetite. His hands moved to cradle your face and cling to your neck, tilting you to his level, and you answered in kind. You pressed into his mouth, draping over the protective breadth of his shoulders and locking your bodies together. Drinking him in, indulging in the mead of his tongue.

You parted with a gasp, airily giggling, "Close the door, close the door."

He nodded keenly and licked his lips, so near to you he grazed yours. An arm under your ass, he hoisted you up against his body in one fluid and effortless motion, earning a delighted squeal. His free hand fumbled with the lock.

"You're using the wrong key," you pointed out.

"What? Nooo—" He finally looked away from you long enough to recognise the shed key. "—oh yeah. My bad, I got distracted by your pretty face."

"I noticed." You kissed the corner of his lips. "C'mon, close the door, and we can go for a nice bath."

"Babe, you have the best ideas."

Task accomplished, he carried you to the second floor. Your kitten heels slid off, clattering down the steps, when he lifted you more cozily on his hip and you wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles crossed. You nestled your chin in the crook of his neck, well aware that if he focused on your eyes over the stairs, he'd trip and break both of your spines. Even then, you couldn't resist kissing the underside of his jaw. He tensed under your lips, sucking in a breath, and retaliated with a squeeze of your butt. Your squeak faded into a giggle.

At the bathroom door, he nudged it ajar with his foot. The fluffy rug prevented it from opening all the way, but a thrust of his hips as he sidled in was more than enough to solve the issue. Balancing on one leg, he flicked the faucet on. You reached for the bottle of bubble bath over his shoulder, then twisted to pour half a cup in the hot stream.

"More," he said.

"It's almost empty."

"Let's finish it."

Nodding, you shook every droplet of soap out and set the container on the sink as a reminder to buy another later. The bath filled up fast, half water and half popping and glimmering bubbles.

"You can let me down now," you said and loosened your grip around him. Still, he held you up without letting you slip an inch.

"Oh, I would never." If his hands were free, he'd press one to his chest in mock offense. His head rolled dramatically to make up for the lack of gesticulating.

You tapped his shoulder. "Har-har. You know what I mean."

"If you're so sure 'bout that — alrighty then." Shrugging, he dropped you into the tub, a large splash drowning out your startled shriek.

"Stiles!"

"You asked for it."

You grabbed the hem of your t-shirt between your thumb and middle finger, and peeled the wet fabric off your chest. As it clung to the skin and detached with a shwop, you stuck out your tongue. Ugh. And you couldn't even be mad at him if you wanted to, because he's just that cute.

"I can't believe I'm going to make sweet love to you," you sighed, nose scrunched, something of an unsettling groan in your weary tone.

"You... don't have to...?"

"No, no, I will." You flicked soapy water at him. "So get in here already."

"Absolutely, ma'am. Just a sec—" He fumbled with his shoes, hopping on one foot as he tugged the other free. "I got this, I got this." Eventually, he discarded footwear and belt, but kept the rest, if only to match your drenched outfit. "Okay, here goes."

You folded your knees to your chest to make room for him. Bracing himself on the edge of the tub, he dipped a toe in, and his face contorted like he'd bitten into a lemon.

"Oh God, wet socks, freaking hell — gah, too late to back away now. Go go go, I can do this." And all at once, he sank under the abundant sheet of bubbles, the top of his head emerging with a white top.

"Congratulations, baby," you grinned and pulled him in for a kiss.

He kissed back eagerly, arms propped on either side of your head. His body pressed into yours, buoyed just enough not to crush you yet still delightfully there. Tethering you, grounding you. As his lips parted, a wave dragged him backwards. He wedged a knee between your legs as you hooked an ankle around his waist, secure against one another, and deepened the embrace as though to spite the water itself.

You melted in his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair to drag him closer. One of his hands cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek and settling on your chin, nudging your lips wider agape. And still, his hungry kiss enveloped you, consumed you. His tongue brushed yours. Moaning, you curled against his body, against the clothes in your way.

"Fuck, Stiles," you whispered in the fast breaths between kisses. "Take my — clothes off — now."

He broke away, forehead to forehead, hovering so near to the glistening red of your lips. God, he could keep kissing you forever. He wanted this, wanted you, wanted more.

"I'll do yours if you do mine," he said, half sigh half laugh.

Nodding, you tore apart from him, reluctant to no longer feel him yet keen for what was to come. "You first."

He rolled your shirt over your chest, bunching it up in one hand as he traced the gentle curve of your breast. Not too close, not too brazen — but teasing, yearning. Biting your lip, you shuddered as he grazed a budding nipple, circling the dark, sensitive spot.

"I've missed those beauties," he said. "They're even prettier than I remember. Just wanna grab and squeeze 'em until you're a whining mess, begging for more."

That might come much sooner than you think. You didn't dare speak that aloud. It would be too embarrassing to admit how easy you became under his touch, how he could graze your skin and you would remember the heat of his fingertips forever.

"Go ahead," you said. "Please."

"Please? Ah, that's so unfair. I can't refuse my sweetie when she's so polite."

He slid the clothes off and tossed it aside, water sloshing over in his haste. What a mess you'd have to clean. No matter. Stiles' mouth on your breasts took your mind off any chores that could have bothered you. He kissed the underside delicately, feathery pecks and the occasional nibble, never drawing blood, just marking his path. You hummed in anticipation.

Playing with his hair, you let your head lull on the edge of the tub. The heat of his tongue dissolved in the steam and warm waves, everywhere at once, cradling your whole body in tender pleasure. Bask in it. Revel in the silk and velvet. You imagined more — his hands groping and clinging, his fingers curling in you, his thighs and his back and all of him, all of him, all of him. Just for you.

As he ventured higher, he got cheekier, more aggressive. Biting here, sucking a hickey there; staining your chest such pretty reds and charming purples. Little reminders that you would stroke every morning as you donned your shirt, and think of tonight and long for him to return before they faded.

"Ah, ow," you sucked in a breath when his teeth closed over your collarbone, tugging him off by his soft chestnut locks. "Careful, honey."

"So sorry, babe," he said. He kissed you in apology, deep and earnest, and for a moment you tasted a tangy droplet of your own blood before it was washed down by his intoxicating passion. "M'gonna make it up to you. Gonna make you feel so good. What do you want? How can I spoil you?"

With a low hum of contemplation, you ran your fingers down his neck and your lips along his jaw. A faint brush, a thoughtful caress. He didn't dare move against it lest you stopped.

You pushed him against the tub so you towered over him, legs on either side of his thighs, hands flat on his chest. From his thrumming heart, over his abs, under the hem of the soaked tee. You hiked it up just enough to expose his happy trail. A breath stuttered in his throat, a hopeful shine in his honey eyes which you couldn't resist.

"I want you," you said, nibbling his earlobe, "to moan."

And he obliged, the sound a song to your ears.

"To say my name," you continued, and kissed down a sinew to his pumping jugular. His husky voice trembled, hitching in his throat, tickling your lips.

"To tell me how good I feel."

You brought your hips down, grinding against the stiff bump in his pants. The taut, wet fabric outlined his erection. He shuddered, biting his lip, and you traced the dark hairs from his bellybutton to his zipper.

"Fuck, Y/N," he chased a breath, hands on your arms, stilling you. "You're amazing, you're perfect — I just, I just wanna make this about you, you know? Spoil you well and good. God, you deserve it, I wanna give it to you."

"It is about me. I'm leading the dance," you said.

To drive your point home, you unbuttoned his trousers and dragged them down. He keenly lifted and shimmied his ass to help, spilling water everywhere. Once undressed, he returned the favour with the excitement of opening a gift on Christmas morning.

"You're sure, yeah? Don't want me to take charge for a bit?" He asked when your jeans were at your ankles. He slid a hand between your thighs, lightly squeezing as he drew closer to your core. Teasing grin, playful eyes.

"Stiles," you moaned his name, bucking into his touch. "I want you inside me. Can you do that for me, babe? Can you fuck me?"

He swore his dick twitched from your words alone. Even at his mercy, dependant on his whims, you had all powers over him, held him in the palm of your pretty, pretty hand. "God, fuck, yes, I can. I can. Anything for you, sweetheart."

He raised your knees over his shoulders and nestled cozily between your legs. Your feet still pinned together. He could do anything he wanted, move and use you as he wished, and yet he desired nothing more than to do what you demanded.

One hand on your thigh and the other on your hip, he angled and lined your eager pussy with his cock.

The first few inches, you flinched — not from pain, never from pain, not when he paid such careful attention to your every reaction. But when he was above you like this, he felt so big, and you, so small. You just had to hold your breath as he pushed into you, spreading your tender walls to fit the whole length and girth of him.

"Shit, I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No," you exhaled slowly, settling into it, body relaxing. You felt the pulsing and throbbing of his veiny dick against each lust-swollen nerve. "It's perfect, you're so good to me. Couldn't be better."

"You tell me if it hurts, okay? Please."

"Of course."

"Good, great, perfect," he smiled and kissed you.

Gently, he started rocking into you. Just getting you used to the sensation again, stretching you out little by little, building up to a wider movement, a faster pace. You hummed and made high-pitched mewls as he thrust so softly it tickled.

"Give me more," you ordered, trying oh-so-hard not to whine, not to beg, "I need more, I need all of you. I need to feel you."

He withdrew all but the tip, then rammed back in to the hilt, balls slapping your ass. You squeaked, eyes blown, digging your nails in his shoulders from the sheer shock of pleasure that jolted throughout your body.

"This good? Enough for you?" His new rhythm, blissful strikes into your softest depths, had you moaning and mewling. "Does my cock feel good? Am I making you feel good, or do you need more? I'll give you everything, just say the words."

"Oh fuck, Stiles, this is — perfect, perfect, please don't stop. You're so fucking good."

He groped your bottom, pulling you up as he thrust down even deeper, shifting your legs around his waist to reach new angles. When he hit your sweet spot, you cried out and clamped down on him reflexively.

"There?" He growled in your ear, his own breaths barely under control. He plowed into you again, and again, and again — and each time drew the same ecstatic moan from your lips.

"Yes, fuck, yes. Please."

Ripples upon ripples of pleasure, each faster than the last, grew into hotter waves within your body, until you reached your tipping point — and bliss drowned your mind in searing white. Your thighs tightened around him, drawing him deeper, keeping him as close as you possibly could. Toes curling, heels pressing into his lower back like a cat in heat. Fuck, it was too much, too fast, too big.

"Stiles, Stiles, I'm — ah, ah, fuck — Stiles, please."

"I know, baby," his voice rumbled right into the pit of your stomach. Gripping your waist to bruising, he thrust faster and faster, each strike igniting fireworks behind your eyelids. "Fuck, you feel so good, so hot — just come with me, you can do that, yeah? Come for me."

And you did, fuck, you did. Exactly as he asked, like a good girl.

Your body tensed and shuddered around him, and he shook with pleasure, pressing down on you fully, too exerted to hold himself up. His cock throbbed, surged with his release, filled you up until you were gushing from your combined orgasms.

"Oh my God," you heaved. Your muscles relaxed one by one, all strength spent, floating on cloud nine. "You're amazing, Stiles. That was so good."

He freed your ankles from your jeans, tossing it away, and eased you against him. Brushing your hair, he chuckled, "How do you ever manage without me, huh?"

"Don't say that," you said as you idly grabbed the soap, "or I might not let you leave me again."

"Maybe I'd like that."

❛ you can be rough. i can take it. ❜ -For Stiles, but he can't really take it. . :p

Another doubled-up request! ;)

Looks like you two are on the same wavelength. I will do my best with this, but you know I'm probably just going to twist it around and not give you what you were really lookin' for ;)

Authors Note: Smutty little number between Stiles and a non-gender-specific reader. Writing smut that's both satisfying and generic enough to read as any reader was challenging and actually a lot of fun :)

Prompt list HERE

Stress Relief

"You can be rough... I can take it..." Stiles said, his voice muffled, his face buried in his pillows.

You were perched above him, sitting on the backs of his thighs. "You think?" you laughed and pressed your thumb more firmly into the tight muscle of his back so it slid under his right shoulder blade.

"Ow, ow! Shit!" He struggled beneath you, rocking a bit from side to side, turning his head to look back at you. "Maybe not that hard."

"Thought you wanted it rough?" you smirked and let off a bit, running your thumbs along either side of his spine more gently. You were straddling his thighs, rubbing the aches out of his back that he'd been complaining about all week.

"Maybe I'm a little more delicate than I thought."

You smiled, and leaned forward, pressing a little kiss to the large mole on his shoulder. "Just a little..."

He shook a bit beneath you with a little laugh before he carefully rolled over, giving you a moment to adjust so that you were settled on his lap. He smiled up at you, his hands on your thighs, fingers splaying out widely as his grip tightened just a bit.

"Thought you wanted a massage?" you teased, slotting your fingers between his on his right hand.

"I did want a massage," he said, his brows raised a bit as his gaze crept up along your body, stilling briefly in a few key places before he finally looked you in the eyes. "Now? I want this."

You startled a bit as he sat up from the bed and pulled you into his chest and kissed you, his chin tipped to reach you as his arms wove around your back. It didn't take long for the firm but simple kiss to evolve into something more. His lips grew a bit hungrier, parting to envelop yours, making room for his tongue to tease at the tip of yours. His mouth got him into trouble so often, but it was one of your favorite things about him.

The two of you had been together for about a year at this point, but you'd known each other much longer. You worked at the parts supply shop he used to come into all the time in high school. Every time he'd come in saying what he needed to fix his nearly perpetually broken Jeep, he left without most of it and a new roll of duct tape. It wasn't until after both of you had graduated that he finally asked you out for the first time, but by that time, the two of you had developed quite a rapport. You fell in love with him so easily it was disgusting.

The way he was kissing you now? The way his hands were roaming over your body? You'd been addicted to it since the very first time he'd touched you. To say you were insatiable was an understatement, but he gave you a run for your money. He was eager and enthusiastic in just about everything he did, and you were just one of those things. It still made you smile when you recalled the time he'd told you that of everything he'd ever learned in his life, he valued learning how to please you the most.

His soft lips peppered your jawline with wet kisses until they made their way to the side of your throat. He breathed your name into your skin before he pressed his open lips to that sweet spot that always made you moan and tongued at your hammering pulse point.

You rolled your hips into him, your hands tangling into his hair while his mouth roamed the length of your neck. You could feel how much he wanted you because he was rutting against you, and he was so hard you knew it had to be almost painful.

"Shit..." he breathed, his lips trembling against your skin when you reached down between the two of you and cupped him through the tented crotch of his pants.

You pushed him back down against the mattress and spread your hands across his chest, relishing in that pleased little smile that spread across his lips before you kissed him.

His hands slid down your back until they were cupping and greedily squeezing your ass.

You gave him as good as you got, kissing him breathless and then latching onto his neck to suck a pretty mark into it that he wouldn't be able to hide. You loved the sounds he made when you had him pinned under you.

He was usually the first one to get impatient when the two of you found yourselves in situations like this, but this time it was you. Too many clothes. That was the first problem. You pulled back from his throat and crossed your arms over your body, pulling your shirt off and tossing it across the room.

Stiles stared up at you, his eyes hooded a bit, his hair scuffed up and messy from the way you'd tangled your hands in it.

"You plannin' on staying dressed?" you teased, tugging a bit as his t-shirt, grinding down on him just enough to make him groan.

"Not a chance," he said, propping himself up and lifting his own shirt, getting tangled up in it a bit before he finally freed his arms and threw it to the floor. He let out a dark little laugh before he propped himself up and wrapped his arm around your waist and turned the two of you over, pinning you under him.

You let out a small giggle that he quickly silenced in an open-mouthed kiss that had your head spinning, and your body starting to ache with need.

He pinched your lower lip gently between his teeth before he pulled away from the kiss, his lips still pursed. His fingers trailed down your bare torso and across your ribs onto your forearms.

You trembled at his touch, your skin rippling with goosebumps.

He grinned up at you, kneeling between your legs when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants and underwear. He crawled on his knees down to the foot of the bed, slowly pulling the bunched fabric down your thighs before he slid it off the tips of your toes. He appraised you for a few moments, his tongue wetting his lips, his hungry gaze making no mystery of what he wanted most.

Then, you watched as he undid his pants and slid them off, leaving him in just a thin pair of boxer briefs. "Those too..." you whispered.

He didn't need to be told twice. He pulled them down over his thighs and kicked them off.

God, he looked good naked. You sighed as he lifted one of your ankles to his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he kissed his way up your calf to the inside of your knee.

He breathed against your skin, letting the warmth of it wash over you before he sucked a little mark into the inside of your thigh.

You felt him lay out on his stomach and loop his arms under your thighs. Your fingers knotted into the blanket beneath you when he teased you with a grazing pass of his lower lip and an exhaled breath.

"Stiles...please..." you begged, desperation starting to make you feel a little unhinged.

He kissed the crease of your inner thigh. "Somethin' you want?" he asked, he pulled you a little closer to him, his fingers gripping you more tightly.

You groaned, pressing your head back into the pillows. "Yes..."

He hummed before you felt the heat of his mouth so close to where you wanted it most. "This?" he asked, before he negated the need for you to respond, his tongue tracing a line along you until you were quivering and carding your fingers in his hair.

"Yes! Oh, my G—" the feeling of his lips sealing around you choked off your supplicating plea.

His talented mouth was so pleasing, but it made you want more. Made you want all of him.

You pulled him up from between your legs into another kiss before you encouraged him to move up your body and straddle your torso. You gripped his ass in your hands and tugged him close enough to get your lips on the tip of his length.

The sound he made when he gently rolled his hips and drove himself into your mouth a little deeper was encouragement enough to have you eagerly moving with him. He cradled your head in his hands, helping you hold the posture that was making him feel so good.

"Mmm, yeah..." he praised, looking down at you, "but you're gonna make me come before I'm ready to..."

You pouted at the loss when he shifted back enough to slip free of your lips and he grinned at you.

He shifted down your body until he was kneeling between your thighs again. He lifted your legs up enough to rest you in his lap, aligning himself with you. He was slick from your mouth and that first intoxicating touch of him pressing against you, stretching you as he filled you up, made you feel drunk on him.

He took his time sliding into you until you were tightly squeezing around the length of him. It felt so good to feel so full. So satisfying to know you fit him like a glove.

When your head was lolling in the pillows and you were started to rock your body into his, he ended the torture of his stillness and began to slowly roll his hips along with you. Encouraged by the soft way you were moaning for him, he picked up the pace, fucking into you harder and faster on each thurst.

When you felt the way your release was building in your core, you knew he had you right where he wanted you. He pressed into the backs of your thighs with his hot palms and folded you over enough to bend over your body.

You craned your neck up and captured his parted lips in a breathy kiss before he mouthed down your chin, your throat, across your chest until he had one of your nipples under his lips. All the while he was driving you closer and closer to your release.

"I'm— I'm so—" he groaned against your chest before he looked up at you.

"Me too..." you breathed, reaching up to run your hand along his jawline before the pace of his thrusts had your eyes rolling back. The levee gave way and the pleasure of your release rushed through you like a tidal bore wave as you cried out his name.

He followed right after you surely encouraged by the way it must feel to have you squeezing around him, by the way the room sounded when it was filled with the echoes of how good he'd made you feel. The faltering rhythm of his hips and his stuttered breath preceded the pulse of him as he flooded into you, over and over.

You panted out appreciative sighs as he collapsed against your chest, his heart pounding hard enough for you to feel. His hair was flopped over his sweat-dampened forehead and you brushed it back out of his eyes when he looked up at you.

"That's better stress relief than a massage... any day..."

Omg so excited, I love your writing!! What about “shh. there’s people in the other room.” with Stiles?? He’s such a little shit, you know he’d be down for some semi-public shenanigans lol

I've never written Stiles beforeeee!

I'm kind of excited to give it a go! I know his vibes and he's always been one of my favorite characters. This kind of behaviour is totally in-keeping with his nonsense ;)

Prompt list HERE

Thank My Caffeine Addiction

You hated that this stupid stranger had managed to turn you into a simpering idiot. This never happened. How many thousand people had you served coffee to over the years? How many cute guys had tried to get your number? More than you could fucking count, and yet here this dark-haired boy in his white button-up and black slacks was standing on the other side of the counter making you feel like English was your 15th language.

He dug his wallet out of his pocket while you gathered yourself enough to even ask him for his order.

"What can I get you?" you asked, clearing your throat.

"Anything with enough caffeine to put down a horse," he said, his eyes bugging a bit as he pulled a few bills.

You laughed and when he looked up at you, he smiled. "Little early for a red eye, but..."

"What's in that?" he asked, tapping the bills in his hand on the counter.

"It's uh..." Your gaze flicked down to his hand and you swallowed. He had to have nice hands. Just had to. "Coffee with an espresso shot in it." It had been nearly two weeks he'd been coming in here for coffee every morning and it seemed like every time you found something new and annoyingly attractive about him.

"That's a start," he said with a sweet smile.

"Venti?" you ask, typing his order into the computer

"If that's the biggest one, then yes," he let out a little laugh.

You shook your head and complete his order, pausing when the prompt enter his name popped up. You knew it. Of course you did. It was one of those annoying attractive things. Unusual and intruiging. But you didn't want him to think you were some kind of a creep for remembering it.

"Name?" you asked, not able to look up at him.

"Stiles."

You finalized the order and he handed you the money before you have a chance to read out the total. He's smiled at you, holding onto the bills when you tried to take them.

"What's yours?"

The lights from the glass pastry display lit his features, making his brown eyes look like sweet honey.

"Huh?"

"Your name?" he said, his tongue quickly darting out to wet his lips.

Shit. Your name. That's easy. Just say it. Say your name. This was taking so long you were sure the second-hand awkwardness was wearing off on the person in line behind him.

Your co-worker stepped up behind you, placing his hand on your shoulder, and said it. Oh, God. This was making the whole thing feel like fodder for one of those stories you tell about how you made yourself look like a complete ass in front of a hot guy.

"Nice to meet you. Officially...anyway." His brows were knit the tiniest bit before he tipped his head and smiled.

You felt that heat rush to your cheeks and cursed it because you were sure he'd be able to tell you were blushing. This entire interaction was making you feel like you did when you were 12 years old and Camden Peters had invited you to his birthday party.

"Why don't you make his order while I take the next one?" Your coworker wasn't blind. He'd been picking at you for just about as long as Stiles had been coming in. This was an attack, but you couldn't very well do anything about it right now, so you agreed and sidestepped the til, grabbing a large cup and writing his name on it.

Stiles moved along the counter with you, waiting patiently as you poured his coffee, pressed some espresso beans into the portafilter and locked it in place.

You looked up to see him staring at you before he quickly looked away toward the windows. "Nice day," he said.

You looked over at the rain streaking down the windows and then back at him.

He had his lips pressed together in an awkward smile. Seeing the way the skin of his throat began to flush, you felt a little less stupid. Maybe he was feeling a little something for you too?

You smiled.

He looked down at his feet. "Smooth..." he said under his breath.

You caught the last few drips of the espresso, poured it into his coffee, and then covered it with a lid before you handed it to him. "There ya go. One venti red eye."

"Thanks," he said with a small nod. He looked down at the drink in his hand and the funny little expression on his face had you concerned.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no..." he looked up, drumming his fingers on his cup. "It's just... My name...It's spelled with an 'i'..." He was pointing at your handwriting, one of his eyes winked closed.

You'd written 'Styles' on every single one of his orders and you felt like an idiot, but if you asked him now, he'd tell you that the first day he'd walked out of the coffee shop and noticed it? That it was the moment he knew he was eventually going to have to gather the courage to ask you out.

Six months on, he tells that story a lot. It's like a choreographed dance. He also has that cup from the last day you spelled it wrong. It's sitting on a shelf above his desk. His sentimentality? Yet another of those annoyingly attractive qualities.

"What are we doin' tonight?" he asked, stepping out of the ensuite bathroom into the bedroom. He had a towel barely hanging onto his waist, the lines of his hips on proud display as he scrubbed his hands through his wet hair.

You had been standing at the mirror of your dresser in only your underwear rubbing lotion into your skin, but he'd sufficiently distracted you.

"Babe?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Tonight?" he asked, walking toward you. "Plans?" he grabbed your waist and shimmied you side-to-side.

It had been a long week for both of you and Stiles was working with a few other recruits on a difficult case that had him up late muttering over case files every night for the last two weeks. He had the next two days off and you were determined to make sure he'd enjoy them.

"Whatever you want," you smiled, looping your arms around his neck.

He was looking at your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. "Whatever I want?"

You giggle a little bit when you feel his lips brush against your throat. "Mhm," you agreed.

"Starting now?" He pressed a wet kiss to your pulse point.

You nodded.

He walked you backward until you felt the bed against your thighs and he playfully shoved you onto it before he dropped his towel to the floor. "I want...all that..." he gestured to you.

It was hard not to stare at how impressively large he was, especially when he was hard, but your eyes always searched out his in moments like this. Because sometimes he looked at you like you were his last meal and he was on death row, and it felt so good.

He stepped closer to the bed and then dropped down to his knees. His hands crept up the length of your bare thighs as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. "We'll go out to dinner..." his fingers curled around the top of your underwear.

You whimpered a little bit at his touch.

He peeled the thin black cotton down your legs and then flung it across the bedroom.

You looked down your body at him, at that giddy little smile he's wearing before he kissed up your thigh.

He grabbed your legs behind your knees and hauled you closer to the edge of the bed. "Startin' with dessert..."

You arched your back at the feeling of the first slick swipe of his hot tongue. His pretty mouth always felt so good. Those lips, that tongue. You'd developed a bit of a hypothesis that level of sarcasm was directly correlated to the ability to please with your mouth. It would explain a lot.

One of his hands gripped your waist while the other crept up your body until he was palming you through your bra.

"Stiles..." you moaned when the hand on your hip began to glide over your skin and down between your thighs.

He was good with his hands too. While he could be scattered and chaotic in just about every way, his focus when he was trying to get you off was unparalleled.

He ran his fingers along the slick of you and then slid one inside as he sucked your clit into his mouth. He curled his finger into that sweet spot inside you that made you curse so loud you felt his mouth disappear from you.

"Shh..." he grinned, his finger joined by a second as you covered your mouth to stifle your moan. "There are people in the other room... remember?"

You guys had roommates, but it wasn't like they hadn't heard you before. Stiles just liked to remind you that he could draw sounds out of you that were so loud your roommates almost always wore headphones when the two of you were in the same room.

He went back to work when you grabbed his hair and shoved him back between your thighs, and it didn't take him long to have you on the edge of release with those skilled fingers and that perfect fucking mouth working over you like the expert he'd become.

You felt his lips curl in a grin when you started to shake and quiver, tightening around his fingers every time he slid them in and out. You were right there, and he knew it. He swirled his tongue and pinned you down with his free hand as he picked up the pace with the fingers inside you until you were screaming out his name. Roommates be damned.

He kept his mouth on you during your come down, flicking his tongue and flattening it out over you to lap up the mess you made.

You propped yourself up on your elbow and ran your hand through his hair until he looked up at you. "Thank you..." you panted.

"Don't thank me," he winked, getting up from the floor and crawling up onto the bed, pulling you along with him until your head was cradled in pillows. "Thank my caffeine addiction..."

Where Stiles Lives Out His Dream.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : just cuteness, maybe like one swear word?

Notes : had this idea for a while, NWH definitely boosted it though!

it started in kindergarten

a five-year-old stiles wearing the same spiderman shirt every day for the first week

surprisingly, claudia wasn't bothered washing it each night

especially when he got it covered in paint and food and.. god knows what actually caused the stain on the left hand sleeve..

one would think that he had that darn action figure superglued to his hand

he refused to let it go, just like that shirt

his obsession never faltered, though

only growing more the older he got

and when he finally watched the movies.. his life changed

stiles was nine-years-old when his dad let him watch the first two tobey maguire movies

he was enthralled by watching spiderman swing around on his webs and fight the bad guys

his large honey eyes were glued to the screen and widened in wonder

and when peter parker finally got the girl, he felt a warmth settle in his chest

a strange warmth that he couldn't describe, not until he was old enough to properly understand

noah stilinski was looking over case files when he felt his son tug at his shirt

stiles only grinned, "dad can i have a mj?"

and noah only shook his head

he smiled back though, admiration etched over his worry lines

"not yet, son"

"dad... is mom your mj?"

and noah only laughed, eyes flickering to a sickly looking woman grinning at her boys' interaction

"she definitely is"

it was freshman year and stiles had turned fifteen-years-old

he wore a large grin to complement his red t-shirt and dark flannel

a large black spider symbol gracing his chest

by now his ADD has grown and he wasn't very good at focusing

it wasn't until he walked straight into another body that he snapped back into reality

abandoning his conversation with his best friend scott to help the poor girl that fell

this is when you first laid eyes on the adorable doofus you'd quite quickly call friend

you grasped his hand tightly as he pulled you up

the boy even dropped back to the floor to pick up your belongings

you thanked him and offered a smile

but you saw his shirt and bit your bottom lip

stiles very much noticed

"i like your shirt" you said before your eyes glanced up from his chest

all that stiles did was laugh nervously

he was shaky and you could tell he was highly-strung

what you couldn't tell though is that he was actually breathless

you were beautiful

kind of like lydia martin beautiful

but your cute attitude and kindness is what set you apart

and when you said you liked his shirt it meant you liked spiderman

that made you automatically perfect to stiles

eighteen-years-old and stiles was now in his jeep, driving to yours

you had been dating since you were sixteen

he asked you at your birthday party if you'd like to go on a date

this was after he handed you a giant present half the size of roscoe

you said yes immediately, and that warmth returned from when he was younger

the warmth that he got when he saw peter in love with mj

it made him think that one day, you'd officially be his mj and the thought made him smile so fucking wide

presently, you were receiving a text to meet your boyfriend outside

you were expecting him, but usually, he'd make his way inside your home

with a key that he acquired from a source he wouldn't tell you about

you walked outside and it was dark

the jeep was in your driveway but stiles was nowhere to be found

you made a move to walk down the steps of your front porch

but a yell scared you into jumping back

a scream escaping through your lips

stiles appeared in front of you, his body hanging upside down from the roof

he had a large grin between his cheeks and his eyes glistened with mischief

he crooned, a little chuckle sounding his words

"hey baby"

reaching out to hit his chest was a bad idea when he slightly maneuvered

your fingers grasped his shirt to hold him still before he could fall

and then

....trust your luck....

the ten o'clock sprinkler system was activated and you both began to get soaked

you glared at stiles

he laughed

and soon you were laughing too

your fingers remained holding his now crumpled, and soaked, spiderman t-shirt from freshman year

you hummed, "you know what this looks like, right?"

and stiles shook his head, but

his eyes were stuck to your wet matted hair and glowing skin from the water beads

"you're like spiderman and i'm like... mj"

he realised the scene you were referring to

the warmth returned

this time it was stronger

it had a forceful pull that gravitated his lips to yours

and finally, it ignited his body with fire coursing through his veins

your lips were joined and your hands moved from his chest to his cheeks

holding him

caressing him

stiles moaned softly as his right hand snaked around to your back

pushing you closer to his saturated frame

your bodies stuck to one another but you didn't care

not when your tongue slipped past his desperate lips

his needy teenage hormones got the best of him , though

he wanted to merge your bodies even closer until all he could feel was the slick wet skin under your shirt

and one move of desire later nearly led stiles to fall once again

you pulled back to hold him steady

lips swollen

his face now turning red

only, it was from the blood rushing rather than just a bashful flush of rosy cheeks

stiles didn't care though, despite your worrying and cursing under your breath

he smiled, teeth gleaming, eyes sparkling

he felt everything all at once when he kissed you

the kind of emotions and sensations that meant that his love for you preceded everything else

and he knew

he... just knew

"you're my mj"

When Stiles and You Watch Porn.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : sexual language, swearing, pornography mentions, 18+ content

Notes : please take note that there's no actual sex in this, but it is pretty mild altogether

you read too many buzzfeed articles

so much that it slowly begins to dictate your life

that's what leads you to you staring at your phone with a quizzed expression whilst stiles flicks through your History textbook

"are you even paying attention?" your boyfriend would ask you

all you could muster was a hum

you were clearly preoccupied

and stiles' curiosity always got the best of him

he asked what you were looking at, questioning a second time to see if it's more important than your test tomorrow

and all you could reply with nonchalantly was "do you watch a lot of porn?"

fair to say, your boyfriend was taken aback

like

waaay aback

he instantly grew red cheeks and became flustered

you knew that he watched it

look at him - stiles screams the type of person to watch porn

and frankly, you've watched some too

but you've never discussed it together before

he stuttered, and choked on his words, and nearly passed out on top of his speechlessness

stiles fumbled as his long giraffe legs carried him to his bed where you laid

you didn't once look up at him, too enthralled by this stupid article

stiles gulped "wh-why do you ask?"

you just licked your lips before pursing them

"says here that watching porn together can be good for sex, you know, help you get hornier and get off easier"

now stiles was more curious, mixed with a hell amount of confusion

he crawled along your bed until he was sitting next to you

your backs pressed to his headboard, eyes glued on your screen

you hissed, "ooh, also says it can be awkward as fuck. some couples can't even look each other in the eye after five minutes of watching hardcore porn"

stiles squinted his eyes as he read the article himself, slowly understanding second-handedly why you were fascinated

the experiences of these couples, they were... interesting

"i mean, it doesn't have to be hardcore though, right?" he piped up

you turned to him, eyebrow raised, surprised he wanted to take part in your readings

"i mean... no, it could be any porn. passionate, softcore, I don't know."

stiles bit his bottom lip, carefully taking your phone from you

he murmured, "so... if we were to watch porn together, for example..."

he flicked through the article, mentally tossing up the pros and cons

"-and you know, see how it goes..."

"stiles are you asking me to watch porn with you?"

his eyebrows both jumped upwards, head tilting to the side as he watched you, "i-if you.. if you want.. to.."

it would be approximately three minutes and twenty-four seconds later when you both were back sitting on his bed

hearts racing after you both were running around to make sure the coast was clear and doors were effectively locked

the most embarrassing part about this 'experiment' would be getting walked in on - especially by sheriff

for comfort reasons you perched between his legs

your back pressed to his chest

his laptop sat neatly on your knees

in all honesty, you were quite comfortable where you were, especially when stiles positioned himself a little upright

with his arms wrapped around your waist

holding you against him

head sitting lightly on your shoulder

you couldn't help but turn slightly to face him and press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose

his lips quirked into a smile and you drew a deep breath

"you ready?" your voice was wavering, still unsure

stiles' wasn't any better, "there's no harm in just... giving it a go... even for five minutes"

your lips puffed out, knotting from indecisiveness

he gave you a gentle squeeze, though

a reassuring squeeze

"it's just watching sex, baby" he said

and you smiled widely from his efforts

you eventually hit play on the first video you both agreed on

it was weird watching sex with someone next to you

it felt wrong, like you were being caught out

you thought that it could possibly turn your relationship upside down

but you two ended up critiquing the video more than gaining a high libido from it

every now and then you two would hum, or make noises of acknowledgement

stiles would inch closer to the screen with squinted eyes

"how the fuck are they even doing that?"

and you would shake your head "god knows but there's no way in hell i'm flexible enough to try it... i mean, do you see how far back her leg goes???"

when another video played over your screen, your eyes widened, a low whistle blowing through your lips

"he looks likes he's going to fucking break her in half!"

"yeah, babe, that's why it's called hard-core porn" he would reply, still studying each video

like

you both would sit there for at least an hour

god knows how many videos you went though, but

you definitely didn't get any more aroused than you usually would staring at each other naked

stiles closed the laptop, clicking his tongue

"okay, what i've learnt from this experience is that i'm perfectly satisfied with the way we have sex..."

"exactly, we make each other orgasm, usually more than once, and it feels fucking good and you're still extremely sexy doing it"

stiles nodding in agreement to what you said

and he'd press gentle kisses to your shoulder, making you smile

even the smallest of affection covers you in bliss

he would pull away suddenly and groan in frustration, though

"i still don't understand how that italian couple could even move in that way? like that shit is inhuman. nobody is supposed to be able to position themselves like that, i'm sorry"

you'd sigh loudly and turn in his lap, your legs on either side of his

and just slowly pushing him back until he was slaying among his pillows

stiles looking up at you as if you were the sun and the stars and the moon

and you leaning down to kiss him so softly, lips moulding against his

the added depth you demanded through your kiss promoting you to swallow stiles hearty moan

pulling away with his bottom lip sliding out from between your own

"how about we stop thinking about what the professional pornstars did and start to focus on we can do... right now, with each other... i can make you feel amazing stiles"

he would eagerly continue to nod in agreement

his fingers already pulling at the hem of your tshirt

you would beam down to him with so much love

"and maybe i'll even let you try that thing you saw, you know, the one with the tongue... the one that made your dick grow hard in like a second flat"

his speechless expression made you bite the inside of your cheek

it was sudden, but

stiles flipped you both over, his body now above yours

his lips barely grazing just under your earlobe

it made you shiver with excitement

his voice hoarse "sweetheart, you know as well as me that the second we start, i'm not planning on stopping, especially if the tongue thing is involved... seriously, fuck"

"then show me what you got big boy"

Revelations || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary : Remembering Stiles leads to remembering your hidden feelings for him. [REQUESTED]

Words : 5.4k

Warnings : smut , oral, angst, not proof read

Notes : this is my first published smut on this blog, fingers crossed! PLEASE BE KIND!!!

The corners of your eyes squinted harshly as you screwed them tight, your lips somewhat parted, chest heaving with deep and sharp intakes of breaths. Your body was stuck between a battle of writhing with pleasure and completely freezing with the upcoming climax - this is what he did to you. It was indescribable how euphoric this moment was, even the roughest and fastest of actions still managing to appear slow as you savoured every touch and sound. Heat travelled along your skin in usison with the prickling goosebumps he gave you and suddenly everything felt like the ultimate out of body experience. You were too dazed to feel your fingertips dragging down his back or to feel the thin layer of sweat bead over your skin, pursed lips pressing lazily to his shoulder. Your voice was caught in your throat even though you desired to scream out as your bodies thrusted as one unit along a blue and black plaid bed sheet, legs tangled, and hands now joined and held over your head. You couldn’t see his eyes or the way your joint pleasure contorted his facial features due to his face being deeply buried in the crook of your own shoulder, teeth and tongue harassing your collarbone.

Your vision slowly blurred, prompting a sudden sharp pain to claim home behind your eyes.

The body wrapped around yours stayed in place, even when you tried to voice that something was wrong. He couldn’t hear you. Your hands and arms could no longer move; your legs losing feeling altogether. All previous sensations of pleasure had dissipated as anxiousness set it and took complete ownership. The thumping reverberations of your racing heart ricocheted through your chest and onto the mattress underneath, the rate increasing the more you tried to wiggle free. It was as if your body didn’t want you to leave - as if it wanted you to stay and see something, hear something, remember something. It wasn’t until a barely audible whisper regained your focus, hot breath tickling your left ear, an ‘I love you’ echoing through every part of you. The reiteration of blood coursing through your veins and loud beats of your heart stopped within seconds before you were encased in utter silence. Hearing a pin drop would surely shatter the intensity of this silent sound barrier. The head laying on your shoulder lifted with slow pace, the first thing you notice being the deep caramel tone of his irises - the familiar caramel tone. The brown set of eyes glanced to your lips and back up to match your focus. The slightly wet and pink swell of his lips cocked into a truly happy smile, the grin sitting between freckle and mole splattered cheeks and a soft rose hue blushing along his pale complexion. The boy spoke again, “Remember, I love you. Remember, Y/N… I love you.”

You squinted and tilted to the side, his words resonating deep within you as another sharp pain spiked within your head. Those four words continued to echo and grew louder and louder with each passing second until all you could hear was ‘remember I love you’ on agonising replay. Your eyes squeezed closed as you silently begged for it to stop, but as quick as it came, like a rubber-band pulled too far - you snapped.

“Stiles!”

----------

The sound of your breathless panting bounced off every surface of your bedroom, your body now lifted into a completely upright position, your handheld over the hammering of your racing heart. The cool draft entering from your open bedroom window made you shiver as the chilled air came in contact with the salty droplets of sweat staining your clothing and decorating the exposed skin. You dared to look beside you and notice that you were alone in your bed and that you definitely weren’t sleeping on blue plaid sheets. If your knowledge on the Supernatural didn’t exist, then you would consider this an awful case of Nightmares - but you knew better, unfortunately. This was because of the Ghost Riders. This was you finally remembering him. Stiles. Your eyes widened substantially with haste as you reached for your phone, immediately pulling out the charging cord and tapping on Scott’s caller I.D. Your legs swung over the edge of your bed and began to make nervous shaky movements, rocking with anticipation. It nearly rang out before you heard a gruff voice grumble into the receiver, evident sleepiness coaxing his inaudible words. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Scott.” You said sternly, hoping that he would gain more consciousness. “Scott, this is important… Scott, wake the hell up!”

You heard stirring on the opposite end of the line. “I’m up, I’m awake, what?! Y/N, what’s wrong?” He replied, now sounding all kinds of worried.

“I remember him… Stiles, I remember him.” You spoke slowly, still trying to wrap your head around the string of events that led you to this conversation with one of your best friends. You held your bottom lip between your teeth as your spare hand combed through your hair, tugging nervously through the ends. You and your friends had spent weeks trying to put a name to the boy that none of you seemed to know of - a repercussion of the Ghost Rider’s hunt. Slowly, the puzzle pieces began to slide together, but within your still quaking hands, you held the ultimate answer. You cleared your throat, “Scott? You still there?”

Rustling was all that you could hear before a brief loud response from Scott provoked you to pull the phone back, “Yeah, I’m just getting dressed. I think… I think I remember him too, kinda. The night I got bit in the Preserve, I think he was there with me. It was his idea to go there. I remember Sheriff saying his name when I hid behind that log.” You could have sworn he dropped the phone next as a loud clang caused you to pull away again, Scott’s whispered voice now cursing the closer he seemed to get to it. “I’ll be there in five.”

“Scott, wait…” Your voice jarred, quick to slip out before he could hang up. The soft background noise alerted you that he was waiting for you to continue, “I think it’s more than just remembering him. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

Scott sighed, “Then we better get him back as soon as possible”.

----------

Being able to just see Stiles once more was enough for your mind to start wandering. He was standing on the other side of your friends with that damn bat in tow, eyes boring into yours, face softening before you were suddenly wrapped within his arms. The embrace you two shared was the tipping point for your uncontrolled river of tears - and that’s when you knew that after all of this sneaking around and sex with no strings attached, you were most definitely in love with Stiles Stilinski. You had been sitting with this revelation for a couple of hours now, your body currently perched on the side of his bed with knees pulled to your chest. The lamp behind you cascaded your shadow against the wall and the only sounds you could hear were from the emotional reunion downstairs between father and son. You weren’t able to make out what words were spoken, not that you were purposely listening, but the happy tone and muffled sobs were enough to make you smile at a reconnected relationship. You could only hope that the wants and fears pouring from their hearts only matched the heartfelt desires you had to share with him. Your eyes were trained on the photo frames littering his bedside table, but of course, you were mostly drawn to the one depicting two overly-joyous teenagers. Your legs hung over his arms as you were wrapped around his back, hands joined as they fell over his shoulders. He had a tight grip on you that day, constantly reassuring you that he wouldn’t let you drop. Your smiles were both wide and so immensely genuine - you could only hope that after your confession of true feelings that the two of you would continue with a future that shone as bright and happy as that photograph.

Your thoughts were so deep that you didn’t hear Stiles retreat back up the stairs and close the door behind him. He watched you distinctively as he toed off his shoes and allowed his jacket to slip from his arms, falling by his feet. He didn’t want to speak yet, not whilst he was watching your frame as you sat on his bed, feeling content as he remembered just how much he missed seeing you in his room. The corners of his lips lifted into a smirk as you began to absentmindedly smile at the framed photos, daring to reach out and drag a single fingertip over what he figured to be the capture of the two of you. Stiles finally cleared his throat, his facial features softening as he remained looking at you. His eyes by now were slightly pink and puffy from crying with his father, but hiding his vulnerability from you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

Stiles bit his lip with a raspy voice, “I, uh, said something to you… before they took me. It’s really important that you remember what I said, Y/N.”

Your eyelashes danced against the top of your cheek, head dropping into a slow nod. Of course, you knew what he was talking about; how could you not? The collection of words had been on replay in your mind ever since you began to regain memories of what made Stiles special to you. Never once did you break eye contact with the emotional boy standing on the other side of the room. The moment you were waiting for was getting closer - pouring every ounce of your feelings out in the open - however, as Stiles neared, your stomach swarmed with the flittering of butterflies. The tone of your voice was nearly inaudible as you spoke, head falling into a slight tilt to accompany the small quirk of your lips, “Remember I love you.”

The wide toothy grin that you found so enticing was now present, the corners of his eyes crinkling in pure happiness. Stiles continued to take steps toward his bed until he could reach out to tuck stray hairs behind your ear. The boy cleared his throat, “I need you to know that what I said… what I feel precedes any of this Ghost Rider bullshit. That when I said it, I meant it with every single cell in my body. It's cliche as all hell, but life is too short to not take a chance. Especially with the way we live. So if I'm gonna do this, then I'm gonna have to do it now before it's too late.” Stiles allowed his fingers and knuckles to drag over your cheeks before he cupped them with such fragility, the warm whisky tone of his eyes glistening as they bore into yours. He took a deep breath, still wearing that damn smile, “I love you, Y/N. This isn’t about the sex, nor is it about the sneaking around and the late-night fun. This is about how I truly feel about you. And fuck, had I not been an idiot in the first place and just told you instead of mindlessly getting into bed with you, then you’d know that you had always been special to me. Our whole lives and friendship… it was always meant to be us. Even if it had to happen this way. All that I ask from you is that you can look me in the eye and say you feel the exact same fucking way. That’s all I need. Just say it back… please.”

The universe came crashing around you all at once - you felt like every lost emotion or declaration of love finally caught up with you, colliding into a flashing display of serendipity, and it made you feel so goddamn good. It was as if you could finally take a deep breath of fresh air and breathe, that all of the birds were singing again and the sun had the strength to shine through the grey clouds that dulled your most recent days. Stiles made you feel at peace. You decided to not hold back the gathering tears that threatened to spill over your lashes, embracing the way he made you feel such emotion. Hands of your own slid up his arms and settled over the hold he still had on your cheeks, making you beam brightly at him as his thumbs dragged over your cheekbone. You could tell by the soft contortion of his features that he understood your reciprocation, but the flicking of his eyes between your lips and your own gaze only indicated that he still needed to hear those words before any further move was made.

You absentmindedly licked your trembling lips, a small giggle escaping you when his thumb brushed over their plumpness to stop their shaky movements. You carefully kissed the thumb, sighing in content, “I love you, Stiles Stilinski. I will always love you.”

Stiles moved quickly as you were tugged against him, chests meeting as part of a soft embrace. The close proximity that you were oh-so used to felt different for once - this wasn’t just lust brewing between you both, but something so much more emotional, much more pure and true. Stiles’ upturned nose brushed over yours, nudging it with utter delicacy as pursed lips chased your supple pair. You were still holding your hands over his as you squeezed, an indication for him to finally make his move and prove just how much he loves you. Stiles closed the gap between you both with a gentle press of his lips, relishing in the warmth of your sweet flavor, just long enough for him to inhale your breath. He didn’t want to rush like he usually would, choosing to take his time so that he could remember the way you blossomed under his touch and taste like a flower entering Spring. Your hands fell to his shoulders before slipping over them, gathering at his back as they hung in bliss. It was you who made the next move as you pushed your tongue against his clenched teeth to roughen the kiss, the pent-up feelings of losing Stiles and gaining him back now poured into every swerve your tongue made against his. It was electric when your heads turned to better the angle; only proven by the deep groan that pushed through Stiles’ mouth, allowing you to swallow his satisfaction and growing libido.

He wrapped an arm around your waist before expertly lifting you from your standing position, his body closing over yours as he laid you down on his bed. Never once did he break the union between your lips until he felt your fingertips dance along his abdomen, desperation evident when they tangled in the hem of his t-shirt. He chuckled against your lips as he pulled back, his eyes glistening at the whine you made when his warmth temporarily left you. Stiles was soon to replace your sweet taste with his bottom teeth when he knelt back, his body sitting up straight with an arm thrown behind his back. Slowly, he tugged at the back collar of his shirt, the material thrown haphazardly across the room. It was as if second nature when your nails immediately scraped gently down his exposed chest, dragging through the prominent strips of dark chest hair and trail leading down into his jeans. Stiles shuddered from the contact, but couldn’t keep his ever-growing smile of admiration away from between his cheeks.

Permission wasn’t needed when your shirt was next, its location unknown when it too was tossed over Stiles’ shoulder with little to no care. He paused to have a look at you as you lay beneath him; your hair splayed across his bedsheets and chest already heaving from the building anticipation. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful you looked when you were vulnerable to him. Stiles was encased around your frame within mere seconds, a large hand splayed against your cheek as the other fiddled with the button on your jeans, refusing to pull away until it was popped and ready for him to tug down your legs. You lifted your hips for easy access, your knees soon pulled apart by Stiles. He sat between your thighs with a dazed look in his honey eyes, the small tug of a smirk grazing the corners of his mouth. He wanted you to feel good as his hands slid down from your knees and over your thighs, fingers daring to slip under the band of your underwear. The light shudders you released was indication enough that you wanted this as much as he did.

A small moan gathered in your throat when you were hit by cool air, the wet slick of your lower lips now exposed as Stiles removed the thin piece of fabric covering you. He wasn’t shy as a finger dragged down your centre - after the many times you both shared together already, he knew his way around your body, but even then he is still always amazed by how intensely you react to his touch. Your head lulled back in serenity when Stiles rubbed his thumb in circles over your clit, the sensitive nub eliciting more moans and soft words of encouragement to slip past your lips as if you were in a drunken haze. His movements increased in pace when his lengthy pointer finger was pushed inside you, your muscles tightening at the addition of his digit. He thrust it with steady pacing and accompanied it with the pulsating muscle of his tongue flicking at your clit.

Stiles skilfully alternated between sucking and licking, harassing your most sensitive area until his finger curled in order to scrape against that one special spot inside you. You nearly screamed when he found it, a second finger entering to help pay close attention to the rough patch that made you want to cry out in euphoria. You could feel his lips pull up into a smile when you sharply groaned at the jubilant sensation of your upcoming climax, your thighs unwillingly squeezing around Stiles’ head, stipulating your need for him to fasten his actions so you can experience that much-awaited bust of fireworks behind your eyes. Curses fell as fingers grasped the sheets beneath you before you suddenly lifted your hips from the mattress and released a nearly pornographic moan from reaching your high. Stiles didn’t stop as he helped you ride out your climactic moment, fingers continuing to thrust but his lips now sucking gently at your hip bones. Your body trembled immensely, and you could’ve sworn that you would feel the afterglow for at least a week. With that thought, you sunk, completely disoriented from the best oral he had ever given you. You could tell from his intensity that he definitely meant it when he confessed that he was in love.

Stiles couldn’t help the cocky smile he provided or the raspy chuckle, his tongue casually darting out to lick away the residue of your taste gathered on his lips. He managed to catch eye contact as you willingly looked over to him, “You good? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cum that hard before.” He mused, his ego now boosted with a quirk of his eyebrow pointed toward you. Stiles bit down on his bottom lip and tugged at it with a satisfying growl, his body lowering over yours once again until he was able to nip at your exposed left shoulder.

“You been holding out on me then, Stilinski?” You retorted, remaining breathless when his calloused fingers began to pull down your bra strap, swollen and warm lips dragging down your arm. He sounded a genuine laugh when he repeated his gentle movements on the other side. You tipped his head back with a single finger, drunken and affectionate caramel eyes ogling back at you when your fingers unclasped the last layer of material covering your chest, your bra thrown across Stiles’ bedroom. Stiles cursed under his breath, his following moan doused with erotic tones as he took an exposed peak in between his lips. Knowing that you were completely naked under his writing form coursed fire in his veins. It was involuntary when he began to slowly grind his clothed length along the inside of your thigh, the friction from his jeans leaving behind a red heated mark on your skin.

Stiles elegantly rotated between your breasts, his hand cupping and tweaking at the side without his tongue’s attention. By now, your body was squirming with pleasure, and you surely could feel the urgency of Stiles’ eager member twitch through the rough denim fabric. You reached down to tug at the band of his jeans, signaling to Stiles that you wanted more. He pulled back to sport his even puffier lips, their soft complexion making the boy look so goddamn innocent - of course, in reality, you knew just what those deadly lips could do. He positioned himself back on his knees before stepping away from his bed, maintaining sensual eye contact as he undid and removed his pants. The moment the denim was pulled past his thighs, he released a noise of utter satisfaction, his member freed from its toughest confinement. Your eyes were curious when they glanced down to his groin, your breath hitching at the evident wet patch caused by yearning precum. You found happiness in knowing that you helped do that to him.

He made it painfully obvious that he was checking out your heaving, desperate body as he reached to his bedside table, his hand fiddling aimlessly around the drawer until he pulled out a crinkling foil packet. The only rule Stiles ever had during sex was that he wanted to keep it safe - something about how he could barely look after his eighteen-year-old self, so how would he look after a baby? His willingness to protect you both always made you smile without fault. He carefully slid the corner of the packet between his teeth in order to pull down his trunks; Stiles’ shoulders deflated with bliss when he was finally free and exposed to you. His dick wasn’t too large, but the perfect size to satisfy you over and over again. Like his arms, he had veins running along the girth, a prominent one up the underside that always made him weak to the touch. It wouldn’t be completely outlandish to even suggest that it was his sexual Achilles heel - and your greatest weapon to get just what you wanted.

You were broken from your mouth-watering stare as the sound of ripping foil caught your attention. Stiles’ inflamed and sensitive tip was soon spread with his precum before he jerked himself a few times, the condom in his other hand then rolling down his length with expertise. Salacious groans pushed past his lips when he touched himself, preparing his body to gratify yours. His eyes had squeezed shut from the attention he gave himself, only to see your finger beckoning him closer when he returned his focus to you. Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, launching himself across the bedding until his hands lay flat beside your head and his nose nuzzled against yours. Your face scrunched up out of reflex and you giggled sweetly at his affectionate action. With his forehead dropped and pressing to yours, the boy took a deep contented breath, his tone settled to a whisper, “I love you, so much. I’m never gonna stop saying it. You’re everything to me, you are my everything. I truly, madly, deeply love you.”

He ignited a fire within you - one that would burn for as long as he remains by your side to offer you a promise of forever love. It was seen in the way you cupped his cheeks and left a fiery path where your fingertips danced, and how you lent up into the boy and left him with a hot union of your lips as you slid your tongue against his. Everything about him left you heated; and you never wanted to cool down. As you pulled back from his lips, still brushing over his with the slightest of grazes, you smiled. Your nose copied his earlier action as you nuzzled Stiles, even matching his quiet tone, “I love you too, and I will for as long as I live and breathe, Stiles. You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

It was the confirmation he needed to position himself against your still dripping entrance, the tip dragging helplessly over your sensitive bundle and causing small tremors of your body in its wake. Stiles gave you a small nod before one of his hands linked with yours, still sitting beside your head, and the other helping to guide his dick into your awaiting core. You firmly squeezed his fingers, Stiles reciprocating the ferocity as he pushed through the tightness of your walls, carnal sounds of mild pain and pleasure harmonizing between you both until he was completely bottomed out. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took, taking his time to allow you both to adjust to the feeling of each other. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart thump against your own chest, provoking you to place your spare hand over the beating muscle as a silent way to reassure him - of what, you weren’t too sure, but he instantly responded with a kiss to your forehead and smiling lips pressed to your hairline. You were ready for him to continue, your voice cracking in your throat from the feeling of his length filling you, “Move, Stiles.” You signaled, hips already reaching for his until he managed a mild chuckle, an obscene playful remark about you being ‘needy’ muttered under his breath.

All it took was a couple of thrusts for you to throw your head back, Stiles attempting to tease you by pulling out all the way and slamming himself back into you with the utmost passion and desire to make you feel good. You easily fell victim to his game and whined his name constantly between mumbles of curse words and explicit groans. He repositioned himself back on his knees, hands sliding down your chest and over your breasts at a painfully slow pace before settling on your hips. He lifted them to allow for a new angle and thrust mercilessly into you. Stiles didn’t hold back - he didn’t want to, frankly, every emotion that built up within him since he was taken was now portrayed in the strong feelings he felt for you. He has had sex with you before, multiple times, but this moment… this was special, and he wanted you to know just how serious and dedicated he was to loving you properly. Between his panting, Stiles managed to offer you words of encouragement, proud to tell you that you were the epitome of beauty and that you felt so amazing around his pulsating member. By now, you could feel a pull in your lower abdomen and tears prick at your eyes - silent alerts that you were close once again to climatic euphoria.

With shaky arms you pushed yourself from the mattress and secured them around his neck, chests now flushed once more and your legs straddling Stiles’ lap. He pushed out an animalistic growl that had settled in his throat, his own arms wrapped around your frame and holding you against him for dear life, “Fuck, baby…” His voice was husky, reveling in the new position that allowed him to reach that special spot within you for the second time tonight. You were helpless as your forehead dropped to his shoulder, the beaded sweat layering his skin leaving spots of warmth against your own. You tried to keep up his pace by meeting his hips, only to be briefly distracted by the sweet nothings he continuously poured into your ears. If you could ever describe the word perfect, it would be this moment - entangled with the boy you love, your body ignited by passion and pleasure, and his calming sweet words echoing in your ears.

Your small hands laid flat against Stiles’ chest before you pushed him back, his body now lying on the bed, head just missing the edge whilst your movements take control to finish you both off. He flashed a large grin as he peered up to you, the corners of his eyes crinkled in pure happiness and admiration. He loved how you knew his favorite position, even more so when you show your small moments of dominance. Your hands remained pressed against the heaving of his chest as you bounded your hips, eyes rolling back into your head with a slightly agape mouth. You were close to the finish line; the band in your abdomen continuously pulling, waiting for the final snap. You could tell that Stiles was close too as his thrusts became slightly sloppy, however, it only made him pick up the pace even more. You circled your hips, gyrating at every possible angle as you sunk up and down on his dick, a loud moan echoing off the walls - one that if the Sheriff had still remained downstairs, he would definitely hear it.

The tears that had settled on your lash line finally spilled over, only a couple of drops rolling down your cheeks. Stiles reached up and gathered them on his thumbs, his hoarse tone cooing at your emotional build-up, “You’re doing so good, baby, so good. Nearly there.”

“I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart, just let go.” Stiles whispered, pulling himself forward to capture your lips within his own. You sucked the breath out of him as you finally reached your release, your body trembling in Stiles’ arms, erupting into metaphorical fireworks. Stars flashed behind your blacked-out eyes and you had never felt so goddamn loved in your entire life. You tried to maintain bounces that were easily taken over by Stiles’ thrusts, helping you ride out your high as he too was nearing his edge of glory. You mindlessly said that you loved him, over and over again into his ear until he filled the rubber pocket around his well-worked girth. Open mouth pants and heavy breathing flashed over your sweaty shoulder, soon to be replaced by sloppy wet kisses. You allowed your hands to rub delicately at his back to calm him down, and he thanked you quietly with murmurs against your skin.

“Ya know…” Stiles began, his upturned nose tracing your collarbone, “As fucking cheesy as it sounds, now I know why they call it making love, cause that was… that was somethin’ else entirely.”

With a nodded head, you lifted his chin with your finger to show him just how brightly you were beaming, the afterglow making him see you in such an angelic light. “It was absolutely something else, it was deadset fucking amazing. Like, seriously, Stiles, where have you been hiding that?” Your question was rhetorical as you lent down to him, placing a chaste peck to the corner of his mouth where his lips met, but he still answered anyway.

“It was just waiting for the right time, I s’pose.” His answer was followed by a kiss of his own, settling on the tip of your nose before pressing to your forehead and each of your cheeks. With hooded eyes he pulled back, an expression of endearment contorting his smile. Stiles had finally found his peace, even amongst the dangers and chaos of the supernatural world. He had someone to ground him and always pull him back from the darkness; he had something worth fighting for, and you had a love that could never leave you - no matter how hard anybody tried to take it away from you.

stiles and “street-light”

it’s cheesy! it’s short! it’s off topic! it’s unedited! it was written on tumblr mobile by an idiot who should be doing her irish homework because it’s ten o’clock at night! but i love stiles and i frickin adore kenz so here it is!!!!!!

“You’re so pretty.” He hums, tucking the loose hair behind your ears and cupping your jaw in his calloused hands.

Your cheeks are burning, and your gleaming eyes avert his lovesick gaze as he beams at you. Beneath the flickering orange hue of the street lights, he glows. Truly. So much so that it irritates you a little bit.

Besotted. Enamoured. Infatuated. Beguiled. There’s not a single word in the English language that could convey what you felt for him. So, despite your better judgement, your eyes lock with his twinkling ones, and you grin. Bright and lovestruck.

His warm hands caress the sides of your neck, smoothing up and down the flesh slowly; making you want to melt into one of the tiny puddles littering the cement beneath you. You breathe, unsteady and unsure; and then you say it. “I love you. A lot. So much.”

It’s his turn to smile, and it’s elated and cheery; you want to say it again, you’ll say it at the start of every sentence as long as he keeps looking at you like this.

“She loves me. You love me.”

You pout petulantly, a groan of pure humiliation and displeasure tumbling past your lips. “Forget it. I take it back.”

“No way! You can’t take it back. You’ve told me now, it’s a done deal.” His arm wraps around your shoulders as he walks you back to his jeep, and you curl into his flannel clad torso; linking your fingers through the hand dangling from your shoulder.

For once, it’s quiet. It’s calm. There’s no supernatural creatures trying to murder you (that you know of), no cold cases to crack or trigonometry homework to do. For once, you can breathe. He presses a kiss to your temple, pulling away to open his car door. This takes him a little while, Roscoe isn’t known for being easy to manage. Once the car door is wedged open open and you’re both inside, he speeds off.

You check the time. 10:14. You told your mum you’d be home by eleven. You have time.

“Hey, baby?”

You hum serenely, you love when he calls you that.

“I love you more.”

Never have I ever - Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Author: @herscrunchiehairtie​

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Words: 4,7k+

Warnings: underage drinking, spicy questions, oral (f receiving), fingering, slight begging, swearing, overstimulation

Requested by @moumouton4​​: I have a request It’s a Stiles x fem!reader and the pack are having a party and they are playing a drinking game where they ask each other questions and people who have already done the thing have to drink, but as the game progresses the questions get more sexual “Who did it in a car? Who did it in high school? ) and Stiles and Y/n drink every time but no one knows they are together, and the suspicious ones ask more and more direct questions to make them confess

AN: This was so much fun to write! AAAAAH. Also I was struggling with myself, because I didn’t know if I should make it smutty or not, so I decided to go with that. I really hope you like it! :) 

Masterlist

“Okay, never have I ever cheated on a test,” Lydia said and waited for everyone’s reaction. 

“C’mon, Lydia. That’s boring,” Malia groaned as she leaned back into her chair. 

“Well, I have never. So I don’t have to drink,” Lydia said proudly and told you to hurry up with a single hand motion. 

You couldn’t help but sigh as you reached for your glass and lifted it in the air. “Well…”

Everyone else reached for their glasses as well and all took a sip. They definitely hadn’t imagined these questions when Kira suggested playing Never Have I Ever.

The party at Lydia’s was in full swing after Mason had once again shown up with half the school, and so you had looked for a "quiet” corner outside in front of the pool under the canopy. Even Liam and Mason, who were actually now almost responsible for the party, had joined you. And of course Mason was the first one who thought that Kira’s suggestion was perfect and had started directly with a statement. But if the questions would remain so normal, you were sure that soon everybody would be very drunk. Well, everyone for whom alcohol at least had an effect.

“Okay, okay, how about this? Never have I ever made out in the janitor’s closet,” Malia said and looked at Lydia. Because it was clear to everyone that this time, our strawberry blonde friend had to drink. Lydia just rolled her eyes and drank without saying a word. Stiles also reached for his glass, followed by Scott and Kira. 

“Who the fuck did you make out with in the janitor’s closet?” asked Scott Stiles, before looking at Malia, who shook her head.

“Um…,” Stiles stammered, trying to come up with a lie that his best friend wouldn’t notice. “This isn’t truth or dare.”

Keep reading

No bc imagine you telling stiles you’re pregnant and he gets all sad and worried because he thinks you can’t have sex anymore, but you show him you very much can😏

the fact that his first worry was how he was going to spend the next nine months without touching because he was scared of harming the baby was hilarious. poor baby went on a whole rent as to why he'd need to spend a few days at his father's from time to time to cool off and just recenter himself before coming back to you or you'd end up pregnant again before you'd even given birth to the first one.

he was so worried, and you know stiles, you never get him to shut up when you debate him so you favored actions over words. you straddled the man and started to take off his pants. you're kissing his jaw and the man is still trying to get his point across hut it's difficult when your hormonal, pregnant wife just really wants to get fucked silly.

"h-hey... sunshine, sunshine listen to m- fuck you're not helping me focus here baby..."

"i don't want you to focus stiles, i want you to listen to me for once. i made my researches already and not only is it safe to have sex but it might be very good for me when i get close to my due date."

he's trying his best to focus but you've got your fingers wrapped around him and he's forgetting the whole point of the conversation when you start kissing his ear while stroking his length.

"s-safe you say ? you sure ? cause i really don't think... i don't think i'll do a good job restraining myself..."

he takes you both upstairs to your bedroom because with the way things are going, there's no way you can just get messy on the couch like that.

what he doesn't except is to have you legitimate jump his bone and take from him as if he'd been depriving you for days now. he ends up laying on the bed with no kind of will to act when you're sitting on his cock, bouncing on top of him and ripping the skin of his chest with everything you have.

he's seen you aroused and eager before but not to the point of feeling himself reach depth inside you that you've never reached before on your own. you always needed help to get off or to see have him press into your cervix but here, you don't need any of that. you're fucking yourself on him as if he was an inanimate doll, encasing him in your walls and keeping him so tight, he could only moans and squirm, incapable of pulling out.

"w-wait ! baby, fuck ! fuck, fuck, fuck... don't... don't you think it's too, fuck ! too deep ! what about... what about the baby ? w-we... we gotta be careful..."

he's saying all that but his hands and gripping your waist tightly, thumbs running over your soft belly and pressing the area where you showed him earlier, where your baby was supposed to be. the thought of the baby he put inside you was making him go completely against his own words. he couldn't stop himself, his hips moving on their own into you and driving deeper into your warm pussy.

"fuck, fuck, fuck ! stiles, more ! fuck, baby that's it ! k-keep going ! please baby please ! fuck me more ! i need more please !"

"g-god, sunshine... we gotta be careful... can't have you in pain because of me ! p-please, let's slow down..."

and you can hear the worry in his voice so you slow down, ignoring your own throbbing cunt, desperate for release. you slow down but it doesn't mean you stop, his arm wrapping around your waist while he slowly rolls his hip under you. he's slow and careful, but he's not gonna be satisfied with just that, you know it from the way he's staring at your body, already seeing all the changes you're gonna go through.

you grab push him to lay on the mattress again, you take ahold of his hands and place them on your stomach slowly riding him and picking up the pace. you lean down, changing angles and kissing his jaw tenderly. fuck, you were evil for that. he was melting under you, incapable of resisting your lips on his skin and definitely not when you were riding him like that.

"the baby will be fine... we're both going to be fine stiles... but now, you gotta focus on your wife... cause poor me, i just really need you baby... i need you to fuck me so stupid, just like you did to get me pregnant... please stiles, just wanna feel like i did back then... please baby..."

now, what choice does he have ? what else can he do as a husband other than please his poor desperate wife ? she'd been working so hard to satisfy herself when he was too busy ranting in worry and now he had to make it up to his sunshine.

"we'll be making a little more researches now. but for now, let's celebrate. i need to make it up to you, get my pretty girl satisfied."

(p*rn link)

i saw this and immediately thought stiles stilinski

just ignore if i offended you, sorry x

babe. the last thing i am is offended honestly 🙈 this was an absolute trip and i am grateful that you sent it to me <3

but think about wearing lingerie in front of fwb!stiles and he just loses it ?? like he just takes a good fifteen minutes to admire you, asking (begging) for you to spin around ?? like he doesn't even notice his own boner before he's jumping you to lay you on the bed.

he'd been extremely busy and stressed lately and you wanted to do something nice out of the blue to help him relax a little bit yk ?? you didn't want to be too pushy by telling him that you were worried but clearly he needed it more than anything.

he takes off everything you have on you but your panties because they're just so simple yet pretty, they make him want to get them all dirty and covered in cum. he's keeping you on top of him, at all times to see you fully and you feel a little embarrassed when he has you sitting on his face but the way he shoves his tongue inside your dripping cunt just erases every thought out of your brain.

hus eyes never leave your panties, watching them get all soaked in both of you and hus brain does process that he's already fucked so much cum into you, you can't take more yk ?? but he cannot stop getting you all dirty and full. he doesn't try but it's not like he can control how much cum he produces in these moments and it's even more difficult when you're basically the dreamiest thing ever to him.

he's rutting inside you, pushing his girth in between your folds and just staring at his cum dripping out of you and on the soft fabric of your panties ??

"bunny... bunny, fuck... bunny i gotta keep these. i'll carry them everywhere with me bunny..."

"g-god... stiles, y- fuck ! oh, god, please ! stiles you're cumming too much... please, s-slow... slow down !"

"can't bunny, i know your pretty pussy can take it, look, look at her taking everything i give her... fuck, did i starve my bunny ? she wanted cum so bad she had to get see through panties to get my attention. look at your pussy bunny, she's so hungry, i can't slow down now, can i ? needa feed my favorite girl. needa keep her full and if you can't keep it in, it's fine." he leans on you to whisper in your ear, "you'll keep your panties on m, covered in my cum and in yours. no taking them off before i tell you to bun-bun."

you're being fucked so nicely you can only nod when he's caressing your head and kissing your neck so tenderly.

he has you wear them in class (mitch is your professor and let's just say that he can see everything that's going on ;)) and he sits next to you to finger his cum back into you. at the end of the lecture, he takes them and skips to his jeep with a smile after breathing in the scent coming from them.

"i'll be gone for only three days bunny, but I'll have these to keep me company. and you bet you'll get loads of videos of how nice they look wrapped around my cock."

YOU ARE DEFINITELY TELLING THE TRUTH ABOUT STILES OMG !! imagine him pounding into his girl… breeding her nice and good.. practically filling her to the brim… while suckling on her tits… omfg what a dream

yall are FEEDING ME !!

like imagine that : you hadn't necessarily thought about having a baby after you got married yk but during one of the outings with the pack, kira's asking if you wanted kids and you tell her that you did but you're not sure for stiles. honestly, you're kinda waiting for him. and he hears that !!

as soon as you get home, he's tearing your clothes off and just biting and sucking onto every piece of flesh he reaches. he's on his knees, sucking on your belly and biting it, raising on of your thighs and putting it over his shoulder to be able to access your pussy and just suck and slurp and lick it all over.

"fuck... you've been waiting for me... this whole time... waiting for me to fuck a baby into you as if i wasn't ready the moment i saw you..."

he gets up and looks at you with these eyes, the eyes he gave you on your honeymoon and the first time you both had sex. he's a hundred percent getting you pregnant tonight.

you end up laying on the bed with you legs parted wide for him to be able to just go to town, fuck loads after loads of cum into you. he can't help it, can't stop cumming. he'd been dreaming of seeing you full of his babies and now, you're saying that you want that too ??

"s-stiles ! fuck ! pussy's so full, so messy ! ah, fuck, fuck, fuck ! fuck, gimme more please ! needa... needa be filled ! more cum, please !"

he's just watching you beg with that proud smile on his face. his hands were to busy playing with your nipples, sucking and biting on them, imagining how big they'd get when you would be pregnant. he could already see them get so big and leaking milk through your shirt. he'd gladly help you get rid of a little bit of that. '

"fuck... made me your husband... and now you wanna have me put a baby in you ? bet one isn't enough either... oh fuck, your pussy's clear... you want twins, wanna be so full i'll have to carry you everywhere... your belly will be so big and full... all that from my cum alone... fuck, i can't wait to see you round and waddling around. you'll be perfect for this..."

hello 🥺🥺 idk if you're willing to do smut or anything nsfw, but i was wondering if you'd be willing to do something where u and stiles take each other's virginities?

༄  word count  —  1.9k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  none

⊹  cw  —  smut & oral

✎  masterlist

─

it was date night for you and stiles. aka the first time you’d been alone together in what felt like forever, even though it’d only been about a week. being friends with werewolves, banshees, and kitsunes came with its own challenges, and not getting any time to spend together just the two of you was one of them.

but tonight, a saturday, it was just you and him watching star wars. it was one of his favorite film franchises, and he’d been trying to get you to watch it for months. you finally gave in, and he brought over all of his dvds.

you were laying on the couch in his living room, his dad working overnight at the sheriff’s station.

you were laying on the edge with him behind you, his arm wrapped around your front. he had his head propped up in his palm to see over you.

it was going smoothly until you adjusted your position, unintentionally grinding into his crotch. you could immediately feel the energy in the room grow tense, awkwardness filling your bodies.

“sorry,” you mumbled, looking back to see a red stiles focusing on the tv. and that was when you could feel his growing erection pressing into your back.

“no, i’m sorry.”

he leaned in to kiss you, and you kissed him back. you reached up to place your hand on his cheek, pulling him closer.

only a second later, you were on your back with him between your thighs, kissing you softly. when his lips moved to your neck, you took in a deep breath.

“stiles,” you whispered, making him look at you. “neither of us have done this before.”

it was as if he remembered that both of you were virgins, and his demeanor changed. he got nervous and anxious, his breathing growing unsteady.

“do you not want to?”

you nodded quickly. “i do. i just... maybe we shouldn’t do this on the couch.”

“oh. good point.”

“you get the condoms, i’ll meet you in your room, yeah?”

this time, it was his turn to quickly nod, jumping off of you and practically sprinting upstairs with you close behind.

—

your head hit his pillow, his body pressing you into the mattress. his lips met yours quickly as he ground into you. his hands reached up into your shirt and you gasped at the sensation of his icy fingers, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

kissing him made you feel lightheaded and flustered, fuzziness clouding your vision. his hands worked softly and slowly under the fabric, enjoying how your skin felt on his fingertips. he took in every inch of you, trying to memorize it. his kiss slipped back to your neck again, and they left tiny hickeys everywhere they touched.

you tugged on his soft hair to get him to come back up to your lips, then worked your way down his neck. he let out a shallow moan at the contact and shut his eyes, savoring the feeling of your mouth on his neck.

you kissed and licked, smiling as he slowly lost it. you reached down and tugged his shirt over his head, taking in the sight of his slightly-toned abdomen.

“my eyes are up here,” he joked, making you chuckle. you sat up slightly to take off your shirt, causing him to gulp at the view.

“my eyes are up here,” you mocked and he smirked, pushing you onto your back gently, kissing down your chest. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he kissed across your half-exposed breasts, cupping them as he did.

you arched your back and reached under you to unhook your bra, and that was when his breathing stopped.

“is something wrong?” you asked, nervousness laced in your voice.

“no,” he said quickly. “you’re just... so beautiful.”

you felt your cheeks go red as you giggled, pulling him back in for a kiss. he snaked his hands down to the waistband of your pants, slipping his hand into your underwear and dipping a finger under the fabric to feel how wet you were. you gasp at the contact, and he continued kissing you.

“stiles,” you moaned into his mouth, making a groan exit his. “shit... that feels good.”

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

a few seconds later, he pulled his hand out of your underwear, pulling the rest of your clothes off your body and tossing them onto the floor. you, out of habit, pressed your thighs together, hiding your lower body from his eyes.

he gently pulled your thighs apart, hungry yet kind eyes tracing your skin.

“why are you trying to hide from me?” he asked gently in the tone of voice that made your heart flutter. it wasn’t a commanding or rude tone, in fact just the opposite. it was gentle, concerned.

“because you’re the first person to see me naked in a long time.”

he dipped his head down and kissed your knee, maintaining eye contact with you.

“you don’t have to cover yourself. i promise.”

you nodded, and a split second later, he was on his stomach with his head between your legs.

“i, uh, don’t really know what i’m doing,” he confessed, making you giggle.

“it’s okay. just do what you think you should do.”

almost with hesitation, he licked a stripe up your clit, making you gasp involuntarily.

“did that feel good?” he asked with concern in his voice. you nodded, and he went back to work.

your body squirmed, your back arched, and your toes curled. moans tumbled from your lips and you reached down to tug his hair.

him being a virgin made you assume he had no idea what he was doing, but you were wrong. he knew exactly what to do, and he was damn good at it.

but it didn’t last long, as he pulled away less than a minute after starting.

“is something wrong?” you asked, noticing he was moving his jaw.

“my jaw hurts,” he said defeatedly.

you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the way he said it, gripping his face and kissing him.

you pushed his pants and underwear down with your feet before wrapping your hand around his length, causing a shudder to run down his body. he squeezed his eyes shut as you continued kissing and stroking him, a desperate whine leaving his throat.

he reached over to the nightstand where he’d laid the box of condoms and pulled one out, all while trying not to knock the box onto the floor.

“do you know how to put one of those on?” you asked sarcastically, making him give you a look.

“i think i can figure it out.”

he looked back at you when it was on, and he leaned down to gently kiss you.

“are you sure about this?” he asked, making you smile.

“yes, stiles. i’m sure. do you want to?”

he gave you a look, as if to say ‘isn’t it obvious?’

“absolutely.” he reached down and lined himself up with your entrance, and you took in a deep breath. “ready?”

you nodded frantically. “yeah.”

he gently pressed into you, and you silently gasped, your eyebrows turning upward and your mouth dropping open. an involuntary moan filled his ears, which in turn made him groan.

once he bottomed out, he looked at you. “good?”

“good.” he kissed you for a moment, and he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in.

even though this was new, it was a thrilling sensation, one that made your stomach flip. your eyes stayed locked with his and his lips parted slightly, a groan low in his throat.

it was soft and slow, and you could feel every part of him — his skin against yours, his heartbeat in his chest, his hands, which were now gripping yours and holding them above your head.

one hand left yours and, a second later, you felt his fingers rubbing circles onto your clit, which made you jump. you let out a loud moan and he did the same in response, pulling you back in for another kiss.

“stiles, i think- i think i’m close.”

almost as if he knew exactly what to do, he picked up his pace to a fast but still gentle one. your knees pressed into his sides as the coil in your stomach built quicker than you anticipated it would.

you’d had orgasms before, considering you’d masturbated quite a few times. but none of the buildups for them had been anything like this one. this one was different.

it was like you were underwater, desperately trying to swim to the surface. you were kicking your feet and paddling your arms to the point they were on fire, fighting for that breath of air.

and then suddenly, you got to the surface.

your legs trembled like they never had before, your eyes were screwed shut tightly, and your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin.

it took everything in you not to scream out — not to scream his name.

and as swiftly as it’d started, it ended. he’d stopped his motions, allowing you to catch your breath.

you’d fantasized about your first time a lot, and in none of those fantasies did you cum. you figured whoever you’d lose it to would also be inexperienced, so you didn’t anticipate for them to be able to make you feel good.

but wow were you wrong.

“you good?” he breathed.

“so good,” you responded. “you feel so good, stiles. so good.”

starting his movements again, he went a bit faster now, but still slow enough to not overwhelm you. he pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck and jaw, moaning as he did so. you admired the sound, thinking his moan had to be the hottest sound you’d ever heard, and you could sense he was also close.

he moaned your name, which almost made you cum right then and there. as he came, his pace and rhythm changed to a choppy, quick one, compared to his smooth, gentle one.

he rested his forehead on yours as he finished, both of you panting loudly. neither of you moved for a few minutes, absorbing the fact that neither of you were virgins anymore.

a giggle formed in your throat and you smiled as he looked at you, chuckling to himself. he kissed you once more before pulling out of you slowly, which made you softly moan. when he was laying back down next to you, he reached down and gripped your hand.

neither of you spoke. and you rolled onto your side to rest your head on his shoulder.

“you okay?” he asked, still playing with your fingers.

“absolutely.”

“good.” he kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arm around you. “i’m glad you were my first.”

you looked at him. “me too.” he kissed you one last time before getting comfortable and closing his eyes, the two of you eventually drifting off to sleep.