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#stiles stilinski x reader fluff
sarcasm-and-stiles · 4 months
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Stiles: Date someone who will drag you outside at 3am to look at the stars.
Y/N: If anyone, and I mean anyone, wakes me up at 3am to go look at the damn sky they will be removed indefinitely from my life.
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luvonmes-blog · 11 months
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Is it me?
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in which they love each other.
part 2 to Why couldn’t it be me?
it has a little angst, nothing to bad tho but it gets so fluffy at the end. like grossly fluffy.
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so much had happened since that night. it was the last night Stiles had seen you in weeks. after Sheriff Stilinski drove you home you packed your things and just… disappeared. everyone tried contacting you. Scott, Lydia, Allison, Kira, even Isaac but no one could reach you. It’s like you had fallen off the face of the earth and Scott feared something had happened to you. no one had heard from you or knew where you were until that night. the night Allison died. you received all of their calls and voicemails, but never had the courage to call back. after you left you never planned to return but when you read Scott’s text about how Allison had died and he really needed you then - needed his best friend, his sister - you couldn’t avoid Beacon Hills any longer.
you showed up in his doorstep and the moment Scott opened the doors he fell into your arms. you let him sob into your chest until he couldn’t anymore. you two sat in his living room as he caught you up on everything and asked for your help.
“so… this entire time, it wasn’t Stiles?”
“no. it’s an evil spirit hiding in his body and Y/N/N, i need your help getting Stiles back.”
“why me? you have everyone else I don’t get why you’d need me.”
“I need extra help, just in case anything goes south, i’ll know I have you.”
“ok.” you pondered for a moment before speaking your mind. “I have an idea but I need you to make sure no one else knows i’m back.” Scott gave you a questing look. “I have a plan, Scotty, and for it to fall through, I need the element of surprise.”
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after that night Scott had kept you updated on everything that happened. and that led you to where you were now, standing outside of Beacon Hills High, hiding in the shadows. you saw Derek fighting some of the Oni with the twins and then you saw him. for a moment you thought it was him. you thought it was actually Stiles but you just knew it wasn’t. he didn’t look like your Stiles and now you’re questioning yourself on how you hadn’t noticed before. but you couldn’t let yourself wallow in self pity. you saw the imitation of Stiles look in your direction and before he could realize you were actually there you ducked behind a wall. you quickly realized walking straight through the front doors of the school was a no-go so you had to find another way to sneak in.
you remembered the many nights you Stiles and Scott had been in similar positions, somehow every time you were fighting some supernatural creature you ended up back at the school, tonight was no different. to get into the school you had to sneak past the imitation of Stiles - Void, they called him - and the Oni. the only other way you could think of was the doors leading to the lacrosse field. you snuck around the building as quietly as you could and onto the field. once there you sprinted to the doors and into the building. when you opened the metal doors what you saw was unexpected.
there was blood, everywhere. splattered all over the walls. it was gruesome and absolutely disgusting, you felt sick to your stomach. pushing the bile that was building up in your throat back down, you made your way through the halls. you snuck around until you heard the familiar voices of your friends. before you could reach them an Oni appeared in front of you. it unsheathed its sword and got into position to swing. right before the sword could slice at you, you ducked out of the way and rolled to the opposite side. hiding until the last moment wasn’t an option anymore so now you had no choice but to fight.
as you crouched on the floor you got into the position to pounce. only transitioning half way, your claws and fangs were out to help you defend yourself. growling lowly at the Oni you launched yourself at it, using an aggressive approach into the fight. it swung its sword at you, slicing through the air and missing you just barely. from what Scott had told you, the Oni were nearly invincible so when you had dig your claws into its arm, there was barely a reaction. the Oni shook you off and sliced its sword at you once again, this time cutting you on your side and leaving a gaping wound.
you hissed in pain and reached to touch the wound, blood covered your hand but you couldn’t give up now. no matter how hurt you were you had to continue fighting, for Stiles. just as the Oni was going to swing again you slid yourself through its legs and popped back up behind you. as it turned around you ducked and clawed at its midriff , a black smoke fell from its wound and it lifted its sword in the air to stab you. you twisted your body as the sword came down, sending a sharp pain through your side and you bent at your cut. you hissed as the gash started bleeding again but you hadn’t had enough time to register it as the Oni came charging at you. instead of backing or ducking out the way as you had done before, you pushed yourself into the Oni. you shoulder checked it and clawed at the mask. flipping over you kicked it’s sword out of its hand and elbowed it where you assumed it’s rib cage would be.
now that it didn’t have its sword anymore, you left it somewhat defenseless. you charged at it, grabbing it by its wrist and flipping it over your back, letting it fall to the floor, you grabbed something from your back pocket and stabbed it straight into its chest. Scott had told you that right before Allison passed she figured out the Oni’s only weakness - silver. and luckily for you, you always carried around a silver dagger your father had given you. as the Oni disappeared into a cloud of smoke you grabbed your dagger and dashed around a corner. just in time as well as Stiles, Lydia, Kira, and Scott came out of the doors of the classroom.
“we’re ok.” Scott had said. “we’re ok-” before he could finish Void had come out of nowhere and knocked him out. Kira turned around ready to swing her sword but Void hit her too.
“this was my game. you think you can beat me at my game.” now he was looking at Lydia and Stiles. he started down the hall at the two as they cowered backwards. “divine move. divine move.” he said incredulously. “you think you have any moves at all? you can kill the Oni but me? me? I’m a thousand years old. you can’t kill me!”
“but we can change you!” Lydia blurted out. that stopped him.
“what?” Scott told you everything and in case anything took an turn of events, like now, he told you what he needed you to do.
“you forgot about the scroll.” Stiles answered.
“the Shugendo scroll.” Lydia added.
“change the host.” it stemmed to all hit Void at once.
“you can’t be a fox and a wolf at the same time.” Stiles finished. and that’s where you came in.
you ran from the corner you were hiding behind and grabbed Voids arm first, just in case he tried to fight back. it came as a shock to Stiles and Lydia, they expected Scott but when they saw painted nails instead they immediately looked up. it wasn’t Scott at all, the red glowing eyes that were coming up from behind Void weren’t Scott McCalls. they were yours and the moment Stiles saw your face, he wanted to burst at the seams. he hadn’t seen you in over three weeks and to be honest, he never thought he would see you again. after the fight he had come looking for you and he couldn’t find you anywhere. not even at your secret spot.
you grabbed Voids head next, gripping onto his hair and yanking his head to the side. your fangs slid out and you growled right before biting into his neck. he was screaming as you bit him and once you had let him go, Kira stabbed him with her katana. Void started choking, a fly came out of his mouth and tried to escape but Isaac had caught in the jar made of wood from the nemeton at the last moment. Void had fallen to his knees and started cracking until he collapsed onto the floor and disappeared into a pile of dust.
everyone was looking at each other until all their all landed on you.
“Y/N.” Stiles spoke a smile lighting up his face but as he tried to take a step forward he collapsed.
“Stiles.” you ran to him, slipping your hand under his head just in time before he slammed it onto the ground. your heart rate was sky rocketing as you rested his head in your lap. Scott had told you they all feared that if they had taken out Void, would Stiles go along with him? and right now, you couldn’t lose him, you just got him back. just as the tears were building in your eyes Stiles took a deep breath in and his eyes opened.
“oh god. I fainted didn’t I?” you let out a breath of relief into a laugh as he looked up at you. “we’re alive? we’re all alive?” you nodded your head at Stiles as tears fell down your cheeks.
“yeah, we’re ok.”
“no, you’re hurt.” Stiles noticed you clutching your side where you wound was.
“no, i’m fine, we’re all fine.” just as you said that you felt a pit in your stomach as Lydia sat up. she got up and started heading to the main doors, and you lot followed behind her, you holding Stiles as he struggled to walk. when you finally reached outside you understand where the feeling was coming from, Derek, Aiden and Ethan were all sitting outside but Aiden didn’t look so well. he wasn’t well at all and once you guys finally realized what had happens Lydia turned around and Scott grabbed her, letting her sob into his arms.
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you were sitting in Stiles’ room putting things in boxes as he took down his mock investigation board. you noticed Sheriff standing in the doorway and you smiled at him. a look of shock crossed his face before a warm smile replaced it. you still hadn’t told everyone you were back.
“what’re you kids doing?” he asked and Stiles turned around, finally noticing his dad.
“we’re just…” he trailed off trying to find a way to finish the sentence.
“clearing our heads.” you finished for him and he turned to look at you, a smile gracing his face.
“ok.” his dad said staring fondly at the two of you before heading downstairs. Stiles put whatever he was holding down before kneeling in front of you.
“we need to talk.” the fond look you had on your face faded and you nodded, letting out a broken “ok.” you guessed it was finally the time, not much talking had been done since you got back. after that night you helped Stiles get home and then you went back to your place, your mom scolded you for disappearing and not telling her where you were but then she hugged you, telling you how much you worried her and if you were ever going through something again to just tell her. Stiles texted you and asked you to come over today, saying he needed help with his room. he took your hands into his and then placed one on his face. “I’m sorry.” you looked up at him incredulously.
“what… what are you sorry for?” you asked, eyes wide.
“the last time I saw you. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things and I know I hurt you and I never, ever meant to do that.” he was crying now, tears cascading down his cheeks.
“Stiles stop.” he looked up at you confused. “it wasn’t you Sti.” you bring your other hand to his face, now cupping his cheeks. “it wasn’t you. you didn’t mean it and I forgave you a while ago. the moment Scott told me what was happening I forgave you.” before you could finish Stiles surged up and kissed you, your lips moved passionately in tandem and a smile broke out onto your face.
“I love you.” he whispered and your eyes grew two times wide before the brightest smile you could muster appeared on your face. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Stiles.” he looked at you, smiling brightly as well. “I have since I met you.” he kissed you again and this time you pushed him back meeting him on the floor. you fell next to him in a fit of giggles intertwining your fingers with his. “ok, ok we have to clean.” you laughed, trying to get up but Stiles pulled you back down with him.
“it can wait. I finally got my girl.” and in that moment you swore you could never be happier.
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sooooo how we feelin? ik ik it took me forever to post part two but i finally did!
tag list: @igotmajordaddyissues @vyctorya @elizabethmidnight2017 @spideylovesyou3000-blog @chunkybabygorl
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moumouton4 · 1 year
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Headcanon : Planning On Having A Child || Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader 🥍
A/n : I had this idea a week ago and I'm really excited to post it 🎨 Please let me know if there is any mistakes or thing that can be improved. Again I'm french so English isn't my first language 🍦💚 Also my requests are open as always so let me know if you have any ideas 🎭
Masterlist ⚜
Warning : Fluff at first but under the cut it's a little smutty, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, child making, 18+ READERS ONLY and be careful
Summary : How would he behave if you were planning to have a child ?
I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it
Words count : 904
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Before the pregnancy :
First he is stressed, a little too much... more than you. You guys had talked about it a lot but you always told each other not to give you a precise date, obviously he wrote it in his diary
You stopped the pill - you don't use condoms as you are exclusive
It's been several months since he's been watching your diet - he doesn't decide what you eat, but he advises you a lot
You haven't had a drop of alcohol in your house for at least 3 months. Besides, when you go to a party he reminds you that you should not forget not to drink alcohol, he does not drink either because he thinks it is not fair for you
On the big day :
He is even more stressed, even if it will not be the 1st time you will be in this position
He prepared a bouquet of roses for you
He also prepared a light meal
Your room is under the glow of a warm subdued light, the bed decorated with rose petals ( yes cliché )
He took a long time to figure out what to wear but finally decided to wear jeans with a shirt and a suit jacket
You came home because you had gone out to do whatever you wanted to
You were very surprised, positively surprised
During the whole meal he stuttered and fidgeted with his fingers
It makes you laugh it reminded you of the day he proposed to you but you're oblivious so you don't see that the day is important for him ( and you )
At the end of the meal when he insists on clearing the table and doing the dishes tomorrow when it was your turn you go and sit in front of the TV thinking that he will want to put on a movie but he asks you to come and you let him lead you to the bedroom
You are overwhelmed by what he has done in it and you kiss him deeply
You sense from his kiss that he is stressed and that something is up - finally !
He tells you that he feels ready and he is as red as a ripe tomato while he does it
Lemony time 🍋 :
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Basically everytime with him is different. Sometimes it's fast and rough but sometimes it's soft and sensual. Sometimes you wonder how much softer he could be. Well now you have the answer to your question
He prepared you to the max and once you were soaking wet he sank into you
Kisses you ALL the time
Praises you the only times his mouth is not on yours "I love you", "You'll be the greatest mother ever", "You're so hot taking me so well", "So eager to have my child"
Frankly his previous shyness is gone
He makes you cum 2 or 3 times before he lets go and speeds up the rhythm of his thrusts
Once he is done he kisses you one last time praising you once more, before sliding out of you delicately - very delicately
And as you are about to get up he pushes you back down holding your legs up
"Huh ?!? What are you doing ?"
"I want to make sure you don't lose any drops of our future child"
"Oh- okay" you smiled awkwardly looking up at him holding your legs
"S- sorry was I too forward ?" he blushed again as he caressed up and down your legs
He only lets you go after 15 minutes of waiting
He runs you a nice bath and cuddles you there until you fall asleep
Once you know that you are pregnant :
He becomes very protective towards you - and he already was a lot before. Never lets anyone suspect get close to you
Avoid you all possible stress, tries to involve you less in the supernatural
He wants to do all your chores and scolds you when you do them anyways. Takes care of you a lot ( more than usual ), massages you, cooks for you, takes care of your hair...
He is afraid to hurt you or hurt your future child
Of course at first he didn't want to have sex with you fearing of hurting the child - Stiles you have been spoiled by nature but don't do not exaggerate 😂
You explained to him for hours and days, with diagrams, that it was safe
He finally accepted and it took time to be comfortable again without ever going as rough as before
He wants to take you everywhere in a Jeep to make sure you don't walk much, of course you tell him that you have to walk to keep yourself busy
Spending hours trying to find the name of your child or children. You wanting to give them a Polish name and Stiles having trouble pronouncing them
A lot of laughing
Lots of comments on how sexy you are
Your libido skyrocketing. Hopefully he's willing to have sex with you again
You dreaming about things you'll do with your child or game you'll play with them
Making sure Stiles knows he is enough and that he'll make an amazing father and that's you're proud of him
Once you're not pregnant anymore, teasing him saying that you can't wait to carry another one if his children
~
~
A/n : Gosh I really liked writing this one. I hope you guys liked it ! 🖋📐 Again my requests are open 🏖 🏜
Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl
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voidpetrova · 6 months
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pretty boy — stiles stilinski x reader
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☄. *. ⋆
content warnings and genre: swearing, alcohol consumption, tit play, unprotected p in v sex, virgin!sub!stiles x experienced!dom!reader — smut
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
synopsis: the closest thing he had come to having sex was with his fist, until he confessed to you, that is
✧.*
in a dimly lit motel room, the buzzing neon sign outside cast intermittent flashes of light across the peeling wallpaper. the air was thick with tension as stiles stilinski, the epitome of social awkwardness and love-deprivation, sat on one of the twin beds, fumbling with his phone. scott had left to chase after allison, leaving stiles alone with his thoughts and an abundance of uncomfortable silence. just as he contemplated diving into another episode of his favorite tv show to escape the loneliness, there was a soft knock on the door. with a puzzled expression, he pulled it open, revealing you—bold, snarky, and an undeniable knockout. you sauntered in, a sly grin playing on your lips, and in your hand, a six-pack of beer.
“hey there, loser,” you greeted, taking in the melancholic atmosphere. “looks like we've got a room all to ourselves tonight. mind if i join the pity party?” stiles' eyes widened in surprise, a mix of embarrassment and relief washing over him. “uh, sure, come on in,” he stammered, hastily clearing a space on the other bed for you.
you cracked open a beer, handing one to stiles, and settled in comfortably. “so, what's got you wallowing in self-pity?” you asked, your tone laced with genuine curiosity. stiles took a sip of his beer and sighed, avoiding eye contact. “i've been doing some thinking,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “how is it that i've never gotten laid?”
you observed him for a moment, your sharp wit temporarily softened by empathy. “stiles, being in a relationship isn't the be-all and end-all of life,” you said, your voice reassuring. “besides, you're unique in your own quirky way. maybe you just haven't found the right person yet.” he looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of longing and insecurity. “you think so?”
“absolutely,” you affirmed, leaning in a bit closer. “you're a good guy, stiles. you deserve someone who appreciates your quirks and cares about you for who you are.” as the night wore on and the beer cans dwindled, a connection grew between you two. stiles, usually tongue-tied and nervous around others, found himself opening up to you like he never had before. your witty banter and genuine interest put him at ease, making him forget his insecurities.
and then, in the quiet of that dingy motel room, stiles found the courage to confess his feelings. “you know, i've had a crush on you for a while now,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. you raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk gracing your lips. “oh, really? i had no idea,” you teased.
stiles chuckled nervously, his heart pounding in his chest. “yeah, well, i guess it's hard not to when you're so—amazing.” you leaned in closer until your faces were just inches apart. “you know, stiles,” you whispered, “i've had my eye on you too.”
in that small, dimly lit motel room, something shifted between you and stiles. two people, seemingly different in every way, found a connection that transcended their differences. as the night deepened, you and stiles shared more than just beer; you shared stories, dreams, and a newfound closeness that neither of you had expected. it was a moment of vulnerability and connection that would change the course of their lives, igniting a spark of something beautiful amidst the chaos of teenagehood. and as the neon sign outside flickered on and off, it seemed to mirror the uncertainty and excitement of the journey that lay ahead for stiles and the you.
“so,” you began, discarding the empty can of liquid gold as you spoke. you met his gaze, his nervous, shaky gaze with a hint of something unexplainable in your own. whatever it was, it drew him to you. just as much as his nervousness drew you to him. “never been laid, huh?”
the question had him taken aback, leaving him with an almost offended expression as he scoffed. “you almost sound surprised.” he inquired with a, yet again nervous, chuckle. you shrugged, taking the opportunity to sit next to him on the ragged, uncomfortable sheets. “you're a pretty boy, sti, you could say i'm surprised, sure.” he didn't know which part got to him first—perhaps it was the way your tone shifted from playful to seductive in a matter of seconds, or maybe it was the way your siren-like eyes held his shy gaze with an immense need to ruin him. before everything else, he was absolutely sure it was your words that had gotten to him first. pretty boy. yes, the way his jeans tightened only confirmed his lingering thoughts.
“you think i'm pretty?” it almost sounded like a statement, rather than your typical question. you smiled rather gently, fingertips slowly creeping up on him, brushing his hair softly, trailing down his clothed chest, gracefully caressing his bulge through his jeans. “so pretty.” you affirmed.
stiles didn't know how to kiss, he didn't have as much experience as you did. he lacked the experience and tact you had, but not the passion. not the passion, not with you guiding him every step of the way ever so gently. your hands cupped his cheeks, tracing his jawline as you coaxed him into the kiss, allowing him to take baby steps into relaxing and finally melting into it. once he did, you found your tongue sliding into his mouth, intertwining with his as your teeth tugged at his bottom lip, sucking gently. you heard him gasp, and it was adorable. he was like putty under your touch.
“you sure you wanna do this?” the question came out almost as soon as the kiss was broken, leaving him panting with a painful ache in his cock. he nodded, almost too eagerly, puppy eyes desperate to experience this more than ever. you littered kitten licks and kisses down his neck, relishing in the way he shivered at the sensation. you had successfully gotten rid of his shirt, feeling how he only grew more and more eager to get on with it. before you could go any further, you found yourself pushing him back onto the bed, straddling his lap.
he watched in awe from below as you peeled your top off, pulling it off your head, leaving you in a stunning black bra. his eyes admired the curve of your tits, the way the bra squished them together, the recoil incoming with every move you made. “c'mere, baby, don't be shy.” you cooed, encouraging stiles to do more than just stare. it was just what he needed to hear. though inexperienced, he allowed himself to do what he felt was right—peeling your bra off, soft moans of pleasure leaving his mouth as he allowed him to fondle and grope your fatty tits, sucking on them and toying with them in a way that made both of you moan. he had his face buried into the valley of your boobs, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as you pulled at his dark hair. he looked up at you, with an utterly innocent, horny gaze, saliva dripping down his chin as you watched him rut against the mattress, desperate for some kind of soothing friction. it made you all the more ready to ruin him.
“please, (y/n),” you had him begging for you to help him out, just a little bit. while you helped him remove his jeans, you couldn't ignore the way his moans got you worked up and wet. “gotta fuck you, please, please, please.” it was a string of incoherent pleading and whining, he was even more worked up than you were. he had no other way to act, what, with your tongue dragging alongside his clothed dick, teasing and taunting the wet spot on his boxers. you nuzzled your nose against him, tongue tracing his balls as you listened to the way he meweled, beads of sweat dropping down his temple.
that night, the first thing you found out about stiles was that he was sensitive. extremely sensitive. the second thing? he was hung. the sight of his bare dick made your eyes widen, the same way the feeling of the cool air hitting his hot, angry, hard cock made him hiss. unbeknownst to you, he had been carrying a, vaguely-spoken, above-average size this entire time. it wasn't something he chose to brag about—what would the context be? certainly not how he jacked off to photos of you every night, to polaroids he had taken of you on the beach or the mere thought of you in the position you were currently in. no, surprising you like this was much better.
“big boy, aren't you, sti?” the way you cooed, as if talking to a toddler, made his cock throb. he whined in response, breath hitching in his throat as you used your thumb to smear his dripping precum all over his cock, lubricating it with the thin layer of arousal. “you're gonna make a mess of me.” he hadn't planned on it until now.
he truly didn't know what to expect fron sex up until now. sure, he's heard stories from friends thay included scott and danny, he's heard the standard it set compared to using a hand to get off. however, feeling it for the first time—it was absolutely incomparable. it was another realm of euphoria, feeling his throbbing, aching cock slip into your wet, tight heat. you didn't have to prep yourself or anything, his long, hard dick gliding into the tight ring of muscle without a care in the world. he felt you flutter around him, the sensation better and tighter than when he uaually jacked off. his jaw slacked, eyelashes fluttering as a moan got caught in his throat. he knew he wasn't gonna last long.
“too fuck—fucking tight, jesus, shit—” none of his words were easy to make out, each one coming out slower than the last as you allowed yourself to bounce on his dick, hands pressed to his chest as his cock slid in and out of you. your tits were pressed to his face, and you couldn't help but moan lowly, the thin motel walls offering you little to no support. “so big, stiles,” you gasped out. you were full, fuller than you've ever been or felt up until now. his thick tip was pressing against your cervix, kissing it as he fucked you. “shit, too fucking big, sti.”
he loved it, loved knowing how good he made you feel. he used it to his advantage, repeating things he had only seen in pornos—rubbing your clit, fondling your tits, and grabbing onto your hips, grinding you down onto his dick as he fucked himself into you. he knew he was close, especially fast for his first time, especially fast for your third time. “i—i can't,” he forewarned, and he couldn't.
when he came, his mind went absolutely blank. he came hard, with a loud moan that had come off as unexpected for both of you. he came long and hard, harder than ever before, shooting all of his cum into your cunt, your pussy milking his cock completely, sucking every last drop out. his vision was blurry for a few seconds, and his mouth dry, the inability to form sentences overpowering him. if there was one thing you were good at, it was fucking.
and boy, were you a fucking good one.
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ateotd-izzy · 3 months
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rainstorms | stiles stilinski x fem!reader
summary: it’s the middle of the night and you wake up due to the heavy rainstorm outside, and after you get up, your boyfriend can’t really sleep on his own.
warnings: none, just sleepy stiles
you were woken up in the early hours of the morning by the sound of rain pattering against the window.
a few moments of lying awake made you shiver (that was because stiles was hogging the blanket) and realize how thirsty you were.
so, with a sigh, you slipped out from under the little amount of blanket you had (thanks, stiles) and let your legs drop over the side of his bed.
one leg of your grey sweatpants had hiked up your leg so it was rolled up to your shin and you fixed that before standing up.
the floor was cold against your bare feet as you slowly and quietly exited stiles' bedroom, careful not to disturb your sleeping boyfriend and his adorable snores.
you made it through the dark house and to the kitchen, where you got yourself a glass of water.
it was still raining heavily outside and you smiled at the sound as you headed back to stiles' room with your cup.
you opened the bedroom door and your eyes drifted over to the bed immediately. stiles was lying on his stomach, eyes closed, mouth open and one arm draped across the bed where you were lying before.
you smiled to yourself. he was so adorable.
you watched as more rain drops hit his window and it started thundering. you saw a flash of lightning and immediately walked over to the window and staring out at the dark night outside.
it was calming. watching as the rain stormed outside as you sipped your water at 3 in the morning.
you were so distracted that you didn't even hear the creak of the bed as stiles got up and walked up behind you.
"what're you doing up?" he mumbled, his arms finding their way around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, his face buried into your neck from behind.
"the rain woke me up." you answered, leaning your head against his ever-so slightly. "and i was thirsty."
"what time is it?"
"it's 3 am."
he pulled his head up to look at you. "you're a psychopath to be up at this time, i swear."
his voice was raspy and all a big mumble. he was clearly still half asleep.
"sure, buddy."
"crazy woman." he shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning against your shoulder again. "look at you, just watching the rain."
"it's nice, stiles."
"sleep is also nice." one of his hands moved from its place on your stomach and connected with yours. he tugged lightly. "please sleep."
"in a minute." you sipped your water again.
"it's so cold."
"then go back to bed."
"i'm not gonna go without you." he whispered, kissing the back of your neck. "i hate sleeping alone, you know that."
you took one last long sip of your water until it was all gone. you turned your body and walked back towards the bed with stiles, placing the cup on his nightstand.
stiles practically dropped onto his bed before rolling back into his place. he pulled the blankets over himself and patted the spot on the bed next to him for you.
you did lie down, except horizontally across the bed, rather than vertically. your head found its place, using stiles' chest as a pillow and he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering shut.
"what are you doing?"
"sleeping."
"stop being a dork and lie down properly," he wrapped one arm across your chest. "dork."
"stiles, don't complain because you're a good pillow."
"yeah, but how am i supposed to cuddle you — or move for that matter — if i'm stuck like this?" he asked, his words still a jumble of nonsense.
"okay, fine, you win." you sighed playfully. you were already going to move, you didn't like the feeling of your legs hanging over the side of the bed.
you adjusted your position so you were lying next to him properly. he gave you a dumb smile in return.
"i love you." he whispered, still smiling, just now with his eyes shut again.
"i know."
his eyes shot open quickly.
"you didn't—"
"good night, stiles."
"hey." he glared slightly. "you gotta say it back."
"why?"
"because i need validation. tell me you love me."
you chuckled softly, pulling the blanket over yourself and moving closer to stiles, placing a light kiss on his lips.
"i love you too, you big nerd."
"thank you." he closed his eyes and held you as close to him as humanly possible. "now i'll see you in about... seven hours when i decide to wake up."
"good night, stiles."
"wait, what if—"
"good night, stiles."
"yep, good night." he peeked his eyes open. "going back to sleep now."
you chuckled and shook your head, lying down and closing your own eyes.
"what if i can't go back to sleep?" he asked after about a minute of silence and you groaned. "okay, well you woke me up."
"and you're the one who dragged me back to bed to sleep, stiles, not talk."
"touché."
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a/n: just a little one shot from my wattpad that i felt like putting on here
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strangerstilinski · 7 months
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𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary; stiles lets it slip that he hasn't had his first kiss yet and, as his friend, you're more than happy to remedy that.
warnings; no use of y/n, fluff, established friendship, some pretty intense kissing, one instance of reader being referred to as a girl
word count; +3.5k
a/n; no smut here, but i am currently planning a couple nsfw pieces to work on between bouts of writing my ongoing (long suffering) stiles fic.
please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! it would actually mean the world to me
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“-And it was just.. So wet. Way, way too much spit, y’know? And there was entirely too much tongue on his part considering the fact that his hands, like, never even left his pockets-”
You’re not entirely sure how, nor at what point, the conversation devolved into a mostly one-sided and incredibly detailed analysis of Mark Hagan’s kissing technique, or lack thereof, but by the time your eyes fall to the boy sitting in the driver’s seat, you realize that you’ve been rambling for at least a full minute in the patchy darkness of the parked car.
“-And I’m not saying I wanted to be groped or anything but, I mean, it’s a little awkward when a guy just-”
You falter suddenly, when you notice the awkward slump in Stiles’ posture, and your words taper out without warning. He has one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped tightly on the back of the seat where he’d turned to face you when he first asked how your date had gone the night before. And- God. That had been minutes ago, now.
“Sorry,” You apologize immediately with a grimace, “Was that, like, way too much information? Sorry.”
“No, I, uh,” He releases the steering wheel and shakes out his hand as if only just realizing how tight his grip had truly been. Your eyes are embarrassingly distracted by the long line of his fingers as he continues, “I guess I just didn’t realize how many things you could do wrong, y’know? I assumed it’d be more straight forward than that. You lean in, press your lips together, kiss, done. Right?”
You laugh softly at his rushed response, “I mean, I guess. I’d like to think there’s a little more skill that goes into it than that.”
“And, uh, Mark..” Stiles has been seemingly overwhelmed with reasons to dislike the other boy since you’d announced your upcoming date the week before, and he nearly spits the name with disdain when he says it now. “No skill, huh? Not quite, uh.. Not up to your standards?” He’s fiddling with the straw from his long-finished milkshake as he speaks, eyes downcast and determinedly focussed on his fingers, “Considering the overabundance of tongue, the lack of groping, and the, uh.. All-around wetness-?”
Another small huff of laugher escapes you as you drop your own empty cup into the greasy paper bag the diner had stuffed your to-go order into a half hour before, your socked feet returning to the Jeep’s dashboard only a moment later.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You fight back a cringe at the mere memory of the drool that coated Mark’s chin when you’d finally decided you’d had enough and pulled away.
“What about you?”
His question catches you off guard and your brows furrow as you meet his gaze, “What about me?”
He twists and folds the straw of his drink with more vigor, nose crinkling before he elaborates, “What would you say your, uh.. Your skill level.. is?”
You pitch forward to grab one of the few remaining curly fries from the container perched by your feet on the dash, falling back into your seat and munching slowly as you genuinely ponder the question.
“I think I’m probably alright,” You shrug after a moment, “I mean, it’s hard to say, right? But I’ve never had any complaints. And considering Lydia is, like, the queen of complaining-”
You’re caught off guard by the entirely inhuman squawk of disbelief and surprise that escapes him. He’s scrambling in his seat with no real purpose before he slowly comes back to a standstill, now sitting just a few inches closer to the passenger side than he was before.
“Lydia? You.. You and Lydia have-?”
You shrug again as you wipe your greasy fingertips on the leg of your jeans, “Yeah, like, twice. Maybe three times?”
“Three-?”
“What about you?” You interrupt.
You tip your head against the backrest to look at him in the dim light of the parking lot as you await his response. The Jeep is barely getting hit with the residual light from the windows of the diner, but the bright neon sign on the roof of the building casts a pretty red hue over Stiles’ face. His mole-dotted skin is flushed with it, the only bits safe from the red-tinted glow are the shadows beneath his brows and the tiny divot in the tip of his nose that extends up from his cupid’s bow. You want to trace the darkness on his skin with the tip of your finger — with your lips.
You find yourself getting lost in just how gorgeous he is, not for the first time.
“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly.
“Skill level,” You elaborate with a grin, lifting one foot from the dash to poke your toes into his knee, “What about you? Are the girls positively swooning? Melting under your touch? ‘Oh, Stiles. You’re the best kisser on this side of the Rockies-’”
Your teasing is silenced when his hand comes out to cover your mouth, long fingers trapping the words beneath your lips. Your knee is squished awkwardly between you, but he’s so warm you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your own, and the scent of his body wash fills your nose now rather than the lingering smell of grease from your shared dinner. You can hardly focus on his words as the smell of teakwood and pine invades your senses.
“No one in their right mind would ever say something like that after being kissed,” He tells you, face pinched in a cringe, “Like, not even something remotely along those lines. Not even in those weird old-timey romance movies you make me w-”
You grab ahold of his fingers to pull his palm from your lips with a small giggle, “Oh, c’mon, the suspense is killing me! Are you a good kisser or not?” Your mind is reeling a bit as you think about it. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Stiles, to feel his lips on your own, his hands on you. “I feel like you probably are. Just the right about of enthusiasm but you’re also a total perfectionist so it’d-”
“I don’t know!”
His exclamation is entirely too loud for the confined space of the car, his voice ricocheting sharply off the metal shell of the vehicle and causing you both to flinch a little. Stiles looks as if he wishes he could stuff the words back into his mouth and try again. You’re simply looking him over with a more critical eye, searching for the reason for his recent outburst as if it might be written plainly on his face, like you might find big emboldened letters of explanation etched across his skin.
“What’d’you mean you don’t know?” You scoff in amusement, “Y’know what? Fine-” You shuffle closer as an idea pops into your head — a brilliant, glorious, heaven-sent idea. His fingertips are still trapped within the palm of your hand and your knee slips over the top of his thigh as you slide closer and move into the center seat, “C’mere. I’ll give you review-”
Your face edges closer and closer to his own until your noses bump and the delicate touch seems to zap Stiles into alertness, sending him jolting back as if he’s been electrocuted.
The sourness that erupts in your belly at his reaction isn’t wholly unexpected, but a small flicker of shame joins it and burns like acid in your chest.
“Well, shit..” You murmur with an awkward chuckle.
It’s difficult to bite back the nagging feeling of embarrassment that swirls through your veins in response to being shot down by your best friend — your best friend that you’ve desperately been wanting to kiss since middle school.
You swallow harshly before continuing with a self-deprecating laugh, “I didn’t realize the thought of kissing me was quite so.. Horrifying. My bad.. I.. I’m sorry. You don’t- I didn’t think and I just- Sorry.” The last bit comes out quieter, the sound of it buried beneath the sudden tightness in your throat.
You find yourself avoiding his eyes, but that only means that your gaze is drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck — and there’s that glow from the diner’s neon sign again. His skin is cast in that red hue, smooth expanses of scarlet broken up by the speckles of dark moles and beauty marks scattered here, there, everywhere. You can almost make out his jumping pulse beneath the hollow of his throat, the dark crimson shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly with each too-quick beat of his heart.
They’re all spots that you’ve only dreamt of having your lips touch.
On rainy days when he shakes his hair out like a dog with the sole purpose of hearing the way you squeal in surprise, the drops of water finding their way down his temple and filling you with the urge to kiss it away.
When you slip into daydreams from the desk behind him during class, your eyes stuck on the exposed curve of his shoulder where his shirt collar is stretched just a little too loose, your lips tingling with the all-too vivid phantom feeling of his skin beneath them.
Trapped in his embrace, his height just enough that your face is smushed into his collarbones, nose crushed against him and pulling in the woodsy scent of his cologne, your mouth pressed limply to the soft cotton over his chest but aching with the desire to pucker and leave behind a gentle peck.
“No! No, it’s not that!” Stiles denies immediately. He’s already reaching out to drag you closer again, hands curling into your waist the moment you attempt to slip backwards into a bubble of shame in the passenger seat. “Kissing you would be the opposite of horrifying! It would be, like, a dream come true or- Or-”
Your eyebrows creep up your forehead at that, the barely there curve of a nervous smile pulling at the corners of your lips as his words seem to tumble out faster, growing increasingly difficult to understand as he rambles in a way that you’re all-too familiar with.
“-Because if I was going to kiss anyone, I’d want it to be you, but if I do kiss you and I’m horrible at it and you’re, like, repulsed-”
You’re still trying to piece things together despite the jumbled bits you seem to have missed. Your lips part in astonishment and his fingers tighten where they’ve begun to anxiously dig into your hips as he continues.
“-What if I’m worse than Mark? What if.. What if I’m so bad that you kiss me once and then you never, ever want to kiss me again because I was so unbelievably-”
“Stiles!”
You cut him off, already scooting closer until your left thigh is practically in his lap. His words cut off, a sharp inhale tearing past his lips as your hands find his shoulders, your thumb dragging over the freckled skin of his neck. You can feel his pulse jumping wildly against the pad of your finger as you finally voice your question.
“Are you telling me you’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask the question as delicately as you can manage, but he still winces as an embarrassed flush colors his cheeks further.
“Not.. Not technically.” He admits quietly, big brown eyes still tinted beneath the crimson glow from outside the Jeep.
“Not technically?” You repeat slowly.
“I don’t know why I thought saying it like that would make it sound better,” He says weakly, “It didn’t. It was still just as mortifying. And so, so lame.”
Your heart flutters, cracks, and then ticks up in quick succession as your flooded with a wide array of conflicting emotions. You can’t quite believe what it is you’re hearing.
“You haven’t had your first kiss?” The words come out a bit more heartbroken than you intended.
Stiles looks horrified at the bluntness of your statement for a moment before he’s swallowing harshly, eyes dropping from your own for a fleeting second.
“No,” He says in a quiet voice, nearly a whisper as his eyes flick back up to yours, “But, um, if- If you’re still offering.. I mean-”
Your heart is positively hammering in your chest, so hard you worry he might be able to hear it, but then your thumb drags up and brushes over his own racing pulse again and his nerves seem to somehow calm yours. Your lean forward until the tip of your nose catches on the bridge of his again, eyes not leaving his as you move achingly slow, giving him time in case he decides to change his mind.
“You’re sure?” You ask softly, the whispered question little more than a breath of warm air against the bow of his upper lip.
“Uh huh.” He just manages the quiet sound of affirmation, a small nod of his head has your lips brushing lightly and the barely-there touch pulls a sharp breath of anticipation from him.
“Okay,” You say quietly, dragging one hand to the back of his neck so you can guide the angle of his head just a touch to one side.
His grip on your hips readjusts and tightens further, one of his clammy palms slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, and the warmth of skin on skin has you breathing out harshly in the sliver of space between your lips again. Your eyes flick slow between his, wide pools of scarlet-tinted whiskey watching you with rapt attention. Your mouth curves up with the hint of a smile, a soft breath of laughter falling into his parted lips as your fingers dig into the thick muscle of his neck.
“Close your eyes, weirdo.” You whisper fondly.
“Shit, fuck. Sorry, yeah. Eyes closed.” He rambles off quickly, eyes pinching shut immediately and hands squeezing your hips as if silently promising that he’s ready.
Endeared. You’re so fucking endeared your organs feel as if they’ve gone warm and syrupy beneath your skin.
Despite your admonishment of his eyes being open, you find yourself unable to pull your own away from watching every small tick in his features. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you brush your nose across his and when the tight pinch of his eyes slackens and he takes a small nervous breath of anticipation, you finally press your lips to his.
It starts with just a small peck as your brain whites out for just a second. His lips are soft and chapped and plush against your own. You linger for a brief moment before you’re separating just enough to slot your mouths back together a little better.
His lower lip finds itself between yours and he gravitates toward you when you make like you’re about to draw back a second time, his mouth blindly searching for yours. He applies more pressure as he seems to become more sure of himself, one of his hands sliding to the base of your spine to drag you closer.
Impressed, you guide the angle of his head to tip just a hair further, your lips parting to exhale a hot breath into the gap between his own. A small sound rumbles from his chest as he tries to replicate the heat of your kiss on the next meeting. His lips fall open just enough that his breath mingles with your own and your brain goes a little heady with it, thighs tensing as blood rushes in your ears and heat pools in your gut.
You draw back and you’re forced to tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place when he tries to chase your mouth again. His eyes crack open to meet your own when he finds himself unable to catch you in another kiss and his pupils are blown a little wide, black overtaking brown until only a small ring of rich chocolate remains. You’re sure you don’t look much better, with the way our chest is threatening to heave with excitement, your fingers trembling where they’re gripping onto the muscle of his shoulder and woven into his hair.
“That was.. That was good.” You tell him after a moment, voice embarrassingly shaky, “What.. What’d you think?”
“Good.” He returns just as weak, “Great. That- Mhm. Awesome.”
His eyes are on your lips again and he looks downright hungry, but then, so are you.
“You’re a natural,” You praise breathlessly, eyes flicking between his rapidly as your fingers unconsciously tighten in his hair, “I’d never guess that was your first kiss – It was.. You learn fast.”
“We- You should probably show me more,” He insists, already leaning back in until his forehead finds your own, “That way I won’t end up like Mark, y’know? With pretty girls complaining to their friends about how wet and gross and bad it-”
“You think I’m pretty?”
He blinks at you as his lips curve up at the corners, the tip of his nose catching against yours to shoot sparks down your spine when he replies, “I think you’re beautiful.”
“Oh.” Is all you manage to get out as a smile tugs at your own lips.
“You want to maybe show me how to use tongue without, being completely repulsive and, like, drowning you or whatever?”
“Mhm,” You agree easily through a breathless laugh. You can’t quite help the quick press of your lips to his and you feel the relieved exhale that falls from his nose and fans out in a warm puff against your face. “Just for the record, though-” You feel the need to elaborate, “There is a time and a place for wet. When things are really hot and heavy and you’re in the throes of passion or whatever — a little too much tongue is great. It can be really, really hot. But- Like I said, time and place.”
The information leaves Stiles looking mildly overwhelmed and severely aroused, but he’s nodding dutifully, “Uh huh. Got it. Noted. I’ll remember that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
His mouth is claiming yours again before the word is even fully out, the sound of it lost in your lips and what remains is smothered by your gasp of surprise. You let him control the pace for a moment before remembering that you’re supposed to be the one guiding him.
You bring one hand up to his face, thumb catching his chin so you can guide his jaw to drop open a bit further as your tongue teases against the inside of his lip. His groan meets your ears, the sound of it sending a shockwave through your body that you’re still reeling from as he repeats your action with truly startling ease. The warm wetness of his tongue has you feeling hot all over, and when it catches against the tip of your own before retreating, you nearly whimper in protest at the loss.
He effortlessly settles into the pattern of give and take, hot brushes of tongues broken up by soft pecks against slick lips. His fingertips dig into your skin like he’s afraid you might slip away into nothing if he doesn’t hold you tight enough and you find your own fingers scraping at his scalp in response.
You’re both making soft little noises between the quiet smack of lips, the leather seats creaking every time your weight shifts in an attempt to get closer.
The lack of oxygen has your head a little fuzzy at the edges when you finally pull back and each of your exhales mingle warmly in the small sliver of space between your mouths as you both fight to catch your breath.
“I, um. I don’t think you have to worry about your kissing technique.” You tell him breathlessly just to break the silence, “You’re all good. A, uh, a great kisser. Eleven out of ten.”
“Cool. Cool. That’s great, I, um-” He coughs quietly, nervously, as he leans back to put a bit more space between you, “Would you maybe want to do it again sometime?”
He’s looking at you with pretty brown eyes blown wide and bleeding earnestness. The hand around your back has fallen to your upper thigh, the grip of it tightening as if punctuating certain words as he speaks. It’s entirely possible that your brain sort-circuits, because a moment of silence passes before he’s barreling on.
“-because I, for one, would really like to do that again sometime. Maybe.. Maybe after a date? Or during a date — that part doesn’t really matter. I just really like you and I have pretty much since forever and now that I’ve kissed you-”
“You like me?” Is all you manage past the heavy thumping of your heart in your chest, your ears — Shit, you’re pretty sure you can feel every pump of it in each trembling twitch of your fingers.
“So much that’s borderline embarrassing, yeah.” He admits, throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.
A breath whooshes past your lips, filled with relief and surprise and elation.
“I like you too.” You say after a beat too long, ���Holy shit. Stiles, are you kidding me? I’ve liked you since the fifth grade.”
“Really?” He looks mildly shocked.
A giddy laugh escapes you as you drag him forward again to bring your lips back together. The kiss is chaste, but filled with so much emotion it makes your head swim a bit.
“Damn,” Stiles mutters suddenly, the frustrated curse puffing out against your cheek, “Does that mean we could’ve been doing this the whole time? Like, years of kissing-?”
His words cut off when your lips find his once more and he gives in easily, his train of thought thoroughly derailed.
“I guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for then, Stilinski.. You up for the challenge?”
Stiles nods wildly and he’s pulling you back in before you can say anything else.
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soulofapatrick · 3 months
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Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader 
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Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other
Words: 2.6K
Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping
Y/N’s POV
Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to. 
I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin. 
Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming. 
Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him? 
Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates. 
I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him. 
The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. 
I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me. 
I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us? 
There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.
Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen. 
I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present. 
I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued. 
His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring. 
I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory. 
“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement. 
Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me. 
Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. 
As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him. 
For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown. 
But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.
The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard. 
Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us. 
Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer. 
In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable. 
As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together. 
The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. 
His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden. 
My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away. 
As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged. 
His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending. 
As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory. 
Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream. 
“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing. 
Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires. 
The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection. 
As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.
His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions. 
As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words. 
The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads. 
As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me. 
Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge. 
“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him. 
“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs. 
“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head. 
“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes. 
Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips. 
"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."
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Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023
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stilinskibaby · 1 month
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brother's best friend.
PAIRING : stiles stilinski x mccall!reader.
CONTENT : fluff ๑ angst ๑ smut
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it started out as a childhood crush, as most longterm infatuations do. you couldn't have been older than four when you met stiles, your stiles. he was missing his front tooth and he spoke with a lisp.
he was wildly loud and animated and you know when you're a kid and you think a boy is so cute that you're sure there's hearts in your eyes. he spoke of playing dragons and knights with scott, “oh! and you can be the princess.”
it was a memory that you kept crawling back to, a time much simpler than now. you could have let out a cold laugh, now you were in constant fear of your life, scott’s life, stiles’ life. it wasn't anything you couldn't handle but you wished for the times when all you had to worry about was your silly schoolgirl crush on stiles.
today was surprisingly quiet, just defeating peter and dealing with the deadpool, you were tired. all of you were, but you kept an eye open just on the off chance that something would try to kill one of your friends.
you stared at your reflection in the mirror, and dotted some concealer under your eyes, anything to make it look like you got some sleep last night. you didn't have scott’s powers to fall back on, nor lydia’s intelligence and intuition. everyday you wondered if you'd be another human lost in the fight against the preternatural.
you tried to wipe the thoughts from your head before walking down the main hall of the high school, stiles stood leaning against his locker while your brother talked about god knows what.
you walked up to the two of them and tried to act normal. like stiles isn't a whole foot away from you, like his cologne isn't enough to make your knees quiver, like every little wink, smile and joke doesn't make you wanna beg him to love you.
you'd been dealing with this crush for as long as you have memories, it should be easier by now. it seemed like lately though, it was getting harder. almost like he was purposefully invading all your thoughts.
“helllloooo?” you came back to the present because of stiles’ voice and scott's hand waving in front of your face. your skin warmed from the embarrassment of getting caught zoning out.
“what? sorry, I'm just tired,” you sighed, seemingly having said that alot recently. but dealing with what you can only assume to be a unrequited crush is tiring. especially when that crush happens to be on your brother's best friend.
stiles eyes squinted with disbelief. if there was one thing you hated about the boy, it was his ability to tell when anyone was lying.
“right, anyways,” scott continued eyeing you from the corner of his eyes but you were already zoning out again.
your day continued on like that, just skating by with your mind constantly drifting back to stiles. it felt almost like you were cursed, your brain almost short circuiting whenever you tried to think of literally anything else.
before you knew it, as if on airplane mode you found yourself walking out the doors towards the jeep. since scott started working at the clinic, you'd just been riding home with stiles. and due to the supernatural nature of your life, it's easier this way.
you climbed into the jeep and tried to keep a semblance of calm. stiles scent was invading your nostrils, with his lacrosse gear in the back seat and him sitting directly next to you. a soft song played on the radio, and if your emotions weren't getting the best of you ; you'd romanticize the man before you.
you were almost never quiet when left alone with stiles, it almost like you don't know how to shut up when around him. so the silence filling the jeep was becoming a bit much even for the hyperactive mind of stiles stilinski.
“you sure you're okay, sunshine?” his hand awkwardly patted your leg. stiles has been calling you sunshine forever, it's yours-and-his special little thing and even when you feel like the world is crushing you, it still gives you butterflies.
you had be around ten, you sat on the bus one seat in front of stiles and scott. stiles was talking mindlessly about lydia ( 12 year olds and their crushes ). and some kid was in the seat in front of you talking about how weird you were. being just a kid, you were almost to tears until stiles heard what the unkind words sprouted from the kid’s mouth.
“you don't even know what you're talking about! she's like sunshine.”
you found yourself blushing and feeling embarrassed, just for the kid to start making fun of you and stiles.
you let the silence hang a bit longer, trying to buy some time to tell a somewhat believable lie. the jeep came to a stop in front of stiles’ house. your eyebrows knit together trying to remember if there was some prior agreement that you forgot about.
“i think i know exactly what you need!” stiles spoke excitedly, and your heart felt like it was gonna fall out of your chest.
“a-and what's that?” you tried to convey a sarcastic tone but your voice shook as spoke. you prayed to whoever was listening that he didn't notice.
his eyes scanned your face as if trying to pry into your mind and it would give him all the answers. “movie night! i know we haven't done one in forever, but i think it'll help get your mind off whatever is bothering you. I know scott is usually here for this,” he sighed a little and rubbed the back of his neck.
your heart warmed, you couldn't believe the absolute kindness this boy had to offer. though every moment around him, was a kick to ego and a kiss for your heart.
“thank you, stiles,” his hand still awkwardly sat on your thigh, burning a metaphorical hole through your jeans.
he grinned that big smile, the one where his whole face turns into pure joy. it took everything in you not to just kiss him right there. and right as you began to get the courage he pops open his door and falls out the jeep. you chuckled to yourself bitterly.
you followed him into his room where you plopped yourself down on the bed. “so what's on tonight, star wars again?” you giggled as you watched him fumble through his dvds.
“actually, i rented heathers last night just for you, i know it's your favorite!” this boy was going to kill you.
and just like old times, he made popcorn and let you lay on his chest. you thought you might throw up. watching your favorite film, with the biggest crush of your life and it started to feel like you were suffocating.
you sat up anxiously, leaning against the wall, stiles’ head lazily rolled to the side, watching your every move.
“stiles,” your voice shook, your lips quivered and you were rubbing your hands intensely.
“hey! woah, hey, it's okay, whatever it is, it's okay, what's got you so upset? did you kill someone or something?” he tried to joke and relieve the tension and at this moment you think that might be an easier conversation.
“no, no, nothing like that,” the Perception of rejection was getting to you, an anvil falling on your heart. you laughed bitterly, “actually, now it feels so dumb. i just, stiles, i-i love you. i love you so much and i cant, i tried to swallow it and for a while that worked,” you were basically sobbing now eyes closed and lip shaking and you were about to lose your breath.
“but i can't, and I can't keep pretending i dont, but it's killing me and that feels dramatic but please, please don't hate me.” he knew this was very serious for you, a girl that almost never let anyone see her cry. amd he didn't mean to, and he feels so bad for it but he laughs, it just thr awkwardness that's in his bones.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, please I didn't mean to laugh, but i guess it just seems so silly to me that you wouldn't just tell me or someone and let it get so bad.” he pauses almost like he's trying to find his words. and all you can think about is running, running as fast as you can but his hand is on your leg and you'd feel so bad for it.
“i can't believe you could be so oblivious, I've been trying to hint to you for years now that i felt the same,” you didn't let him finish his sentence instead, doing what you've always wanted to do : kiss him. your lips mold together perfectly, you felt so far away, like you were in a dream.
the dream felt more hazy, when his hands find your hips and pull you into his lap. you can feel his cock hardened underth you, restrained by his jeans. you grind against and whimper into his mouth.
“stiles, stiles if you don't do something right now,” your words were breathless, somewhere between a whimper and a whine. his fingers move quickly to undo his jeans, while you shed yourself of everything but your bra and panties. you always wore cute panties in a secret way to manifest this happening.
as soon as he has you below, his hands are moving to grope your tits, he groans, eyes scanning every inch of your body, trying to commit every part of you to memory.
“fuck, you're so pretty, baby.” his words go straight to your core, warm, wet and clenching around nothing. you're thoughtless, the only thing left in your mind is him, so you just whine.
his fingers trace around your hips and slide your thong to the side to get a view of your beautiful cunt.
“you ready?” you nod, and he shakes his head, as if a new man. “say it,” as his hands slide over every part of your body except where you need him most.
“m ready, please stiles need you, need your cock. please, please” you were practically begging so pumped himself a few times before sheathing his full length into your cunt. it's so deliciously painful.
“mm such a good girl, taking me so well,” he pressed his lips against your forehead in a long kiss. before giving you long thick strokes, ans his hand reaching between you to rub little circles onto your clit. you were seeing white as continued to fuck you, your fingernails scraping against his pale skin.
his teeth gritted as he moaned, trying so hard to hold back. “m close, please please.” you whined and he fucked you faster, and harder. rough groans falling out of his lips.
your climax was closing in on your, your nails skating harder against him, your legs closing in around his hips. you basically screamed your orgasm out against stiles neck. he chuckled to himself, proud he could do all this. he funally let go, fucking you both through your climaxes. and keeping his now soft cock in your cunt, to keep his cum in you. thank god for birth control.
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princesssmars · 6 months
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practical magick
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a stiles stilinski x witch!reader
plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.
wc : 4.678
contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry 😞i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.
a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.
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for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.
he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.
yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."
just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.
"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.
its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.
a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.
"its closer," he thinks.
he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.
at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-
in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.
he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.
you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.
you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.
"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."
before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven
"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."
turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.
his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.
he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.
"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"
your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.
"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"
"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.
"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.
he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.
he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.
"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”
yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.
“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”
"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"
"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"
"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.
you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.
when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.
"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”
he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-
“hurry up.”
he rushes to catch up behind you.
after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.
magic, duh.
you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.
"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"
"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."
"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.
"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."
"thank you. why is he doing it?"
"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"
"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.
"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"
you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.
"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."
he blinks. "thanks. i guess."
"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."
that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.
he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”
“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.
“you just did. but go ahead.”
“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”
you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.
“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”
“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.
“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.
“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”
something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.
“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”
“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”
he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.
“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."
you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.
“you’ve got a deal.”
after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.
when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.
before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.
as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.
the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.
"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"
"you said i could."
"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."
"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."
"really funny."
(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)
but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.
he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.
"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."
"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."
"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"
"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"
it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.
"im sorry."
"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.
he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.
"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."
he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."
you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.
"its not fair."
"its not."
"...thank you."
"don't mention it."
you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-
"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"
hey, that works for him.
as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.
"please. just give it a minute."
and so he did.
only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.
"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"
"bye stiles."
he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.
deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.
"where'd you get that bracelet?"
"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"
deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."
"could you explain them to me? just because you know."
the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.
"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."
stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.
"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."
this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.
"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.
"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"
"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."
"and the one on the bottom?"
"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."
stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.
he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.
(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)
the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.
the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.
what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-
"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."
he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.
"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."
"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.
he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.
"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."
he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.
"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"
you blink. "go ahead."
he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.
"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"
he goes into a near coughing fit.
"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"
before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.
"can i kiss you?"
"yes, god yes-"
your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.
he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.
"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."
"stiles?"
"yeah?"
"shut up and kiss me again."
"whatever you say, babe."
for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.
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ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.
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randomoutsiders · 8 days
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stiles and reader being such close friends that they constantly barge in on each other while they're taking a shower or literally peeing and scott is like "????? you both are so weird."
arg i love this but i do have to give creds to @ddejavvu for writing something extremely similar with james x r !! please go give them a read, they're a favorite little mini-series of mine :))
another late night shift at the hospital and you're hauling up the next basket of laundry from the washing machine that's in need of replacement, the dryer beside it shaking and rumbling against the back wall its shoved up against. the cracked plastic of the laundry basket burrows into the flesh of your hip as you trudge up the steps, eyes weary and worn from textbooks that hold foreign tongues of chemistry and history. "scott! laundry!" you bellow in your passing of his room, footsteps still heavy when you continue along the hallway in search of the bathroom.
thick rolls of steam tendril through the open crack, and you nudge open the door with a sock-clad toe, announcing your arrival with a fatigued "hey stiles."
the metal rings screech against their bar as the shower curtain gets yanked back, stiles' head peeking out from the right. brown curls mat against his forehead, mole-specked cheeks slick with water. "hey," he coughs with cratering dimples. "back from the library?"
you nod, grabbing your toothbrush from the holster balancing on the porcelain edge of the sink. "yeah, mr. harris is on my ass again," you huff, shoving the bristles into your mouth as stiles shuts the water off. "damn alkynes."
a single hand carries the weight of the towel over stiles' junk as he steps out of the tub, and you lean back against the sink, frowning around the toothbrush. "they're simple once you get 'em," he huffs, leaning over to use the end of the towel to dry out his growing hair. "no biggie. you bring your textbook back home?"
you nod, eyes drifting over to the open bathroom door as your brother lolls by, in search of his own toothbrush. "i interrupting something?" he scoffs, reaching around you and jostling you in the effort.
you catch your weight with another scowl, toothpaste bubbling up around the corners of your lips. "fuck you, scott." you gripe, and stiles reaches over to smear away the minty paste.
he suckles the thumb back into his own mouth, and you and scott both scowl, and you go so far as to jab at his bare shin with a swift kick. "you're gross." you spit the glob into the basin, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. "and i can see your dick. go get dressed so you can teach me alkynes."
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Text
Note: feel free to comment, criticize and point out any mistakes all is appreciated 💗
Sorry this is kind of short but I’m trying to change that in future fics :)
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader
Warnings: kissing? And a suggestive comment, fluff
You lay on Stiles' bed, doodling hearts on his cast. Playing lacrosse with a group of werewolves had unsurprisingly turned out to be a bad idea, resulting in a trip to the ER due to a broken arm. Fortunately, it was only a practice session, so not too many people witnessed him wailing in pain and refusing anyone's help, which, of course, made you and the whole squad burst into fits of laughter.
"My big baby," you teased, signing your name with even more hearts next to it and putting down the marker. "My reaction was 100% understandable, so I have no idea what you mean," Stiles turned his face away from you. "Imagine getting body-slammed to the ground by a 170-pound dude charging at you THAT fast," he added, turning toward you with a raised eyebrow.
"Whose great idea was it to let you play, anyway? Oh right, it was you," you shook your head, getting a weak smile from Stiles. "Well, at least cause you're not playing, I have you all to myself." You propped yourself up and met his face, leaning in for a kiss. "And because you're such a big baby, I'll help out with anything you need as your arm heals and all."
"Anything?" Stiles asked with a smirk. You gave him a light chuckle in response. "Really Stiles?," you said, planting another kiss on his face
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sarcasm-and-stiles · 5 months
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Y/N: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.
Stiles: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one?
Y/N: Seize the dick.
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whor3vib35 · 1 year
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Game Night
Stiles Stilinski x reader
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“Scott hates me” you whine, laying against the bed. In the beginning you thought it was your imagination. Now though you know it’s not all in your head, Scott hates you.
Today Stiles had a lacrosse game so you being his girlfriend were there. The game went amazing. Stiles ended up scoring the final goal of the game. You were so proud of him, the smile on his face made yours grow. You ran onto the field embracing him in a big hug giving him a kiss on the lips. He laughed against your lips holding you close to him and twirling you around. “Congrats, baby” you mumble against his lips.
He placed another kiss on your lips before telling you that he had to go to the locker room. You nodded watching him head to the locker room with the other players. He gave you a final wave before disappearing from your sight.
After a few minutes you decide to wait by the locker rooms for him. The two of you have plans to go back to his house. While waiting for him that's where you heard it. You hadn't meant to eavesdrop but when you heard your name you couldn’t help but listen.
“Is Stiles coming tonight?” you recognized the voice as Lydia.
“No he’s going with Y/n” you could hear the annoyance in Scott's voice. “This is the third time he’s declined hanging out to spend time with Y/n.”
“What’s wrong with you thats his girlfriend? Don’t tell me you're jealous” you could hear her laugh at the thought but Scott doesn’t.
“Of course I’m not jealous I just don’t like her” you could hear Lydia question why that was. His answer solidified the idea that he hates you. “Stiles can do so much better than her.” You tuned out the rest of their conversation.
You knew Scott didn’t like you but you hoped that over time he would warm up to but he never did. The rest of the group didn’t mind you the girls would invite you out shopping and to sleepovers. It was just Scott that didn't like you and you had no idea what you did. Now you find out it was nothing you did, he just didn’t like you; he thought Stiles could do better. You finally had the answer to the question that had been plaguing your mind for months.
Your problems weren't over though with one question answered, more showed up. Did Stiles know how Scott felt about you? If he knows about how Scott felt about you, would he break up with you? You know how much Stiles loves Scott so the idea that Stiles would break up with you to make Scott happy wasn’t too far-fetched.
You watched as Stiles took off his jersey throwing it in the hamper. He changed into his pajamas before sitting on the bed next to you. “Scott doesn’t hate you” he grabbed your arm pulling you into him. The two of you are cuddled up in bed together, your head on his chest while his hand runs up and down your side. You lean up and place a kiss on his lips. You weren't planning on telling him about what you heard but you did want to gauge if he knew how Scott felt.
“If Scott asked you to break up with me would you” you could tell the question surprised him. He tensed under you. Stiles had just had a big win, his shining moment and you felt you were running it and you were. It was selfish of you to bring this up but you needed to know before it got any worse.
“Where is this coming from?” he chuckled at the sudden question but stopped when he saw the look in your eyes. You were being dead serious. He could see the doubt in your eyes about your answer. It hurt him thinking that you doubted his love towards you. “Of course not baby” the sincerity in his voice made you believe him. The look of complete love in his eyes settled all your doubt.
You lift yourself up off his chest placing a deep kiss on his lips he returned the gesture right away. Pulling you into his lap, his hands on your hips as he deepened the kiss. He started to place kisses on your neck. Sucking dark hickeys into your neck mumbling small ‘I love yous’ against your neck. You whisper ‘I love yous’ back to him.Every last one of your doubts disappeared with every ‘I love you’ and kiss. You're not going to let Scott come between the two of you again. It no longer mattered if Scott liked you because Stiles did he loved you and you love him.
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moumouton4 · 11 months
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Fluff : 🌺    Smut : 🔥    Angst : 😭    None : 🌲    Incorrect Quotes : 💫
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Stiles Stilinski 🥍 :
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Planning On Having A Child 🔥🌺
~~
→ back to Fandom Masterlist ⚜  
Characters I write for 👀
⚠ I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it ⚠
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babyflorencee · 3 months
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Ignored ignorance
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Merry Christmas!!
Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader
Stiles' and I had gotten out of an adequately heated argument a couple of hours ago. He was infuriated with me because he thought that I was flirting with another man when I wasn't. So I've been ignoring him ever since. Now I'm not mad at him because he wrongfully accused of something that I didn't do, and would never do. But, I'm mad because he screamed at me nonstop for an hour before talking it out with me first.
It was currently midnight, and I was in the guest bedroom because I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I was on my phone texting Lydia when I heared a faint knock on the door. Knowing it's Stiles, I put my phone down, pretending like I'm sleeping. "Y/n?" I hear him whisper, trying to quietly open the door but failing miserably.
"Y/n, I know you're awake."
I just ignore him, trying to pretend like he isn't in the room. A couple of minutes go by and I'm just about to drift off to sleep when I feel the bed dip and an arm loosely wrapped around my waist. He put his mouth against my ear and whispers, "I'm so sorry, my love. Please come back to bed." His apology was so quiet I could just barely hear what he said.
I still don't say anything. I always end up caving in but I don't want to this time. He can't yell at me like that and expect me to forgive him so easily. "Y/n, I know you're awake. Baby please, I can't sleep without you beside me." He whines, but I still ignore him.
I feel him tighten his arm against my waist, pulling me into his chest and nuzzling his face into my hair, pressing light kisses all over my head. "I need you." And with just those three words, everything he did was completely forgotten.
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voidpetrova · 7 months
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fake dating — isaac lahey x reader
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☄. *. ⋆
content warnings and genre: swearing, cheating, fake relationship — drama
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
synopsis: in a world where supernatural beings live in secret alongside humans, your ordinary life takes an unexpected turn when you and isaac decide to spark up a fake relationship to spite scott and allison. however, it takes a turn for the best.
✧.*
through the windows of the cozy beacon hills cafe, you found yourself sitting across from isaac lahey, the enigmatic and brooding boy from your high school. the atmosphere was charged with an unspoken tension, a palpable energy that seemed to envelop the two of you.
his stormy blue eyes met yours, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “so, we're really doing this, huh?” he murmured, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup.
you nodded, a mixture of nerves and determination coursing through you. “yeah, it's crazy, i know. but it might just work.”
the idea had been born out of desperation. you had watched scott and allison's friendship blossom into something beautiful, something you'd secretly yearned for with scott. and you knew isaac had felt the same way about allison. so, in a moment of shared frustration, you both hatched a plan to stage a fake relationship, a way to counter the overwhelming presence of scott and allison's romance.
isaac leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. “you know, this could get complicated,” he warned, a hint of caution in his voice.
uou chuckled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “complicated is an understatement, Isaac. but maybe, it could also be the solution we've been looking for.”
and so, with that unspoken agreement, your fake relationship began. little did you know that this charade would lead to unexpected feelings, unexplored connections, and a journey of self-discovery neither of you had anticipated.
a few weeks into your fake relationship, everyone began to take notice of the change in dynamics between you and isaac. one sunny afternoon, as you all gathered at scott's house, stiles couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the two of you.
“so, when did you guys start dating?” he asked, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. the rest of the group turned their attention to you and isaac, curious expressions on their faces.
you exchanged a quick glance with Isaac, your heart racing. you knew that the façade you both had been keeping up was about to face its first real test. isaac cleared his throat, putting on a convincing smile.
“we, uh, didn't really make an official announcement,” he replied, his tone casual. “it just sort of happened.”
stiles raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his gaze. “really? because i'm pretty sure we would have noticed if you suddenly became an item.”
uou felt the weight of the group's gaze on you, waiting for an answer. with a nervous chuckle, you leaned in slightly closer to isaac, allowing your fingers to intertwine with his.
“yeah, stiles, isaac's right. it kind of just happened,” you chimed in, trying your best to sound genuine. “we've been spending more time together, and things naturally evolved.”
stiles eyed you both suspiciously, but seemed to accept the explanation. “huh, well, i guess congrats are in order then.”
as the day went on, you and Isaac continued to play your parts, though the act felt strangely less like acting and more like reality with every passing moment. the more you pretended to be a couple, the harder it became to differentiate between what was genuine and what wasn't.
a couple of days later, scott and allison approached you with smiles that held a hint of curiosity. “hey, so we heard you guys are a thing now?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
isaac and you exchanged a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you. “yeah, it's true,” he replied, his expression softening as he looked at you. “guess we just clicked.”
scott grinned, giving isaac a playful punch on the shoulder. “well, it's about time! you guys make a cute couple.”
allison nodded in agreement, her smile warm. “definitely. and you know what? we should all go on a double date sometime. what do you think?”
your heart skipped a beat as you glanced at Isaac. he met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and realization. it was a curveball you hadn't anticipated, but there was no turning back now.
“sure, that sounds like fun,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your chest.
you couldn't help but groan in annoyance as you attempted to zip up the gorgeous, tight black dress you had on. isaac was sitting at the foot of your bed, watching with furrowed eyebrows in a playfully judgemental way. “trying to impress mccall?” he teased, a smile on his face. you shot him a glare
“the plan isn't working, jackass,” you snapped at him, struggling with the zipper as you pulled upwards with all your might. “besides, i assume the cologne you're wearing isn't just for shits and giggles, huh?” now, it was his turn to shoot you a glare.
isaac's lips quirked up at the corners, amusement dancing in his eyes. “you caught that, huh?” he replied, his tone mockingly innocent.
with a huff, you managed to get the zipper up a couple of inches, but it stubbornly refused to budge any further. frustration gnawed at you, and you realized you might need a bit of assistance.
“isaac,” you sighed, looking at him with a mix of annoyance and desperation. “could you maybe give me a hand here? this dress is conspiring against me.”
he chuckled softly, pushing himself off the bed and sauntering over to where you stood. his fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. “alright, stand still,” he instructed, his voice surprisingly gentle.
as his fingers grazed the exposed skin of your back, a jolt of electricity shot through you. you sucked in a breath, feeling the tension between the two of you intensify. his touch was warm, his fingers deftly working to guide the zipper upwards. each inch he pulled the zipper, your heart seemed to beat faster, the proximity between you both becoming palpable.
“better?” his voice was low and husky, the words a mere whisper against your ear.
you nodded, struggling to find your voice. “yeah, thanks.”
isaac stepped back, his hand lingering on your waist for just a moment longer before he let go. the room was thick with unspoken words, a charged atmosphere that neither of you could ignore. you met his gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling in his stormy blue eyes.
“anytime,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.
the night of the double date had arrived, and there you were, seated across from scott and allison in a dimly lit bar. the atmosphere was a mix of excitement and tension, with each of you trying to play your roles convincingly. you shot Isaac a quick glance, finding him seated next to you, engaged in what appeared to be a polite conversation with allison.
“so, isaac, what is it you like to do in your free time?” allison asked, her smile warm as she leaned in slightly.
isaac's lips quirked into a smile, though you could sense a hint of restlessness in his gaze. “oh, you know, the usual stuff. hanging out with friends, reading, being apart of a pack of werewolves,” he replied, his voice casual as he earned some laughs from allison.
as the conversation between isaac and allison continued, you found yourself in a similar situation with scott. the two of you were making small talk, discussing school, training, and everything in between. but just like isaac, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of boredom settling in.
as the minutes turned into what felt like hours, you exchanged a glance with isaac, your eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. there was something unspoken in that shared look—a mutual understanding that this double date was nothing like what you had anticipated. the connection you had both been cultivating, the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface, seemed to be fading away in the presence of scott and allison.
you cleared your throat, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction. “so, scott, any exciting plans for the weekend?” you asked, a forced smile on your face.
scott's eyes lit up as he began talking about his plans to hang out with his friends and maybe catch a movie. as he spoke, you found your attention drifting, your mind wandering to the enigmatic boy seated beside you. you watched isaac, his expression polite but distant, as he exchanged pleasantries with allison.
feeling the need to escape the stifling atmosphere of the bar, you excused yourself under the pretense of getting a drink. your heart felt heavy with the weight of the evening's events, and you hoped that a moment alone would give you a chance to clear your mind. you walked over to the bar and leaned against it, ordering a drink to soothe your frayed nerves.
a little while later, as you stared down at the swirling liquid in your glass, you felt a presence beside you. you turned slightly, not surprised to find isaac standing there, his gaze fixed on the array of bottles behind the bar.
“mind if i join you?” he asked, his voice soft.
you shook your head, offering him a faint smile. “not at all.”
isaac signaled to the bartender and ordered a drink for himself before turning to you. “you looked like you could use some company.”
“thanks,” you replied, taking a sip from your glass. “honestly, i just needed a break from all the...acting.”
isaac's lips quirked into a rueful smile. “tell me about it. allison's nice and all, but i feel like we're running out of things to say.”
you chuckled softly in agreement. “yeah, scott and i were discussing the most mundane things. i never thought a conversation about the weather could be so painful.”
isaac chuckled too, his laughter mixing with the low hum of the bar. “guess our plan didn't exactly go as smoothly as we hoped.”
“no, it definitely didn't,” you admitted, glancing at him with a mixture of amusement and something deeper. “but you know what's even weirder? as boring as this night has been, it kind of made me realize something.”
he arched an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “and what's that?”
you took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “i actually prefer talking to you.”
isaac's expression softened, his gaze locking onto yours. “really?”
“yeah,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i mean, it's like we can actually be ourselves around each other, even when we're faking it. does that even make sense?”
isaac's lips curved into a genuine smile, and you could see a spark of something in his eyes. “yeah, it does. it's strange, isn't it? how this whole thing started as a charade, but now i feel like i can be more honest with you than I can with anyone else.”
the honesty in his words tugged at your heart, and you felt a sense of connection that was impossible to ignore.
as the night continued, you decided to engage in some friendly competition, moving over to a corner of the bar where a dartboard was set up. you found yourself standing at the line, a dart in hand, ready to take your shot. scott sidled up next to you with a confident grin.
“careful, (y/n),” he teased, his eyes dancing mischievously. “i've got pretty good aim, you know.”
you rolled your eyes playfully, focusing on the dartboard. “we'll see about that, mccall.”
just as you were about to throw the dart, you heard a dry chuckle from behind you. isaac's voice was laced with sarcasm. “oh, this should be good. the mighty scott mccall taking on the humble game of darts.”
you couldn't help but smirk at Isaac's remark, feeling a surge of camaraderie between the two of you.
ignoring isaac, scott leaned in a bit closer to you, his tone more intimate. “you know, if i win, maybe i'll finally get that real date.”
you couldn't help but laugh, your aim slightly off as you released the dart. it hit the board, but not in the bullseye you had intended. “nice try, mccall. but i think i'll be just fine on my own.”
isaac's voice chimed in again, dripping with sarcasm. “at least you almost hit the board.”
scott narrowed his eyes at him. “got something to say, lahey?”
isaac leaned casually against the bar, a smug grin on his face. “oh, nothing really. just enjoying the show.”
scott picked up a dart, gaze switching between the object and isaac. “alright, let's see if you're as good as you think you are, asshole.”
you watched as he handed isaac the dart. isaac couldn't help but smirk at the challenge, returning scott's gaze as he picked his poison. he turned to face thw board, positioning his hands at a good angle in order to get the best throw possible. scott was praying on his downfall, but your expectations remained high. eventually, fulfilled, as the sharp end stuck itself into the thick material of the wood.
“would you look at that,” isaac murmured, making his way to you as he had been doing for a while. “seems like i'm the one getting a date instead.”
as the night wore on, with the dartboard now a backdrop to your laughter and light-hearted teasing, you couldn't help but feel that maybe this night had turned out to be a success after all—not in terms of the original plan, but in terms of the bonds that had formed, the walls that had crumbled, and the unexpected connection that had taken root between you and isaac.
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