mdni! follow up to touch-starved boy, but solidly a stand-alone as well. stiles has just always been so touch-starved and when he gets to have you for the first time? fireworks.
stiles stilinski, who couldn't keep his hands to himself.
who loved to feel you squirm under his touch, feeling how your muscles twitched against his long fingers as he trailed them up and down your side, a sinister smirk forming on his lips.
who knew just the effect he had on you. who loved to tease you, rough hands roaming your delicate, bare flesh as you let out those pretty little noises he loved oh so much. who didn't know he could make someone else feel like this, flooding his heart with a warm sensation he'd never before associated with sex.
who loved when he felt your touch too, maybe even more. who shuddered against your palms as you lay your hands on his bare chest, lips bruising their way down his neck to meet their destination to suck on his hard nipples, a deep groan escaping his lungs. who genuinely didn't know men could even get pleasure like that prior to you, a touch he hadn't yet experienced and one that overwhelmed him to his core.
who loved to feel you spread open under him, the warmth from your core radiating against his aching cock and giving a sensation he hoped to never part from. who nearly passed out the first time his cock slid through your slick folds, pulsing desperately against your clit as you squirm below him, soft praises and cries for more ringing through his ears.
who swore like a sailor when bottoming out, having to use all of his strength to not come in you right then and there. who could feel every part of you clenching around him, a vice holding him closely as though he'd run away. yeah, like he'd rather be anywhere else. who didn't know sex could feel like this, a pleasure coursing through his entire body, overwhelming him to the point of tears.
who told you he loved you for the first time as he thrusted into you, feeling you so tight around him making him emotional, a closeness he didn't know he could experience. who praised you like he was begging for your forgiveness, his hands and lips roaming the entirety of your body, not wanting to miss a single inch of your skin. who wanted to know all of you, who wanted to be as close to you as humanly possible. or inhumanly possible, because what was happening to him was nothing short of supernatural.
who came inside of you with the stutter of his hips, the most intense orgasm he'd ever had washing over him as he felt how swollen and full you were with him. who immediately switched his focus to aftercare, cleaning you with delicate precision, hands that were once hungry now reverent on your skin as he stared in awe at your glowing body. who climbed next to you and held you tight in his arms, leaving sweet kisses all over your face until you laughed so hard your sides hurt, your bodies warm and melted together.
who took every chance he could to get his hands all over you after that first time, purely just wanting to touch you. who didn't care how or where, just wanting to feel your hot flesh against his calloused fingertips. who felt like his heart was bursting every time he was inside of you, a more profound version of love than he could ever dream of having for himself. who rasped "mine" in your ears as he rutted into you, not as a statement of possession, but rather a cry of relief.
who was in awe after each time, in awe of how he had someone like you in his life. in awe of how crazy his life had turned upside down in the best way possible, the once touch-starved boy now bursting at the seams with the love and reverence you give him. who's cried more than once during sex, so grateful for your love and patience with him, it took a physical hold.
who held you like you were his whole world, because you were. that's exactly what you were to him, and he made sure with each touch, sexual or not, you knew exactly what you meant to him. who couldn't stop touching you if he wanted to, eager to express just how loved you made him feel.
stiles stilinski, who couldn't keep his hands to himself.
at first, stiles didn't even notice it. the way his heart would race and his cheeks would flush; he was used to having that reaction around you. so used to it, in fact, that he had stopped letting it be a distraction. you'd giggle at his joke or look up at him through your lashes and he'd blush, fidget, move on. like his own little routine.
what got distracting was when he had made the sudden realization one day: you're hot.Â
the two of you had been friends for so long, crushing for almost that whole time, that by the time stiles looked up and saw you in your bikini, it was too late to turn back. he was a goner.
literally-he was out of lydia's backyard and in her half bathroom before you could even ask him to help with your sunscreen.
holy shit. he gripped the sink, glaring at his flushed reflection. get yourself together, perv. so she's got nice tits. really, really nice tits and thighs that could suffocate you and jesus her hips-
no! nope, no no no nonono. it is way too early for this. get real. she's seen you recite the entire opening crawl of the force awakens. she is not going to do that with you- woah! or that! get it together. get it together. get it together.
and so stiles marches back out where you and your friends are gathered, playing marco polo. you glance at him and smirk in that way the tells him you're totally cheating, only proven true when allison calls out "marco!" and you slide past her in the water without joining in the choruses of "polo!"s from all over the pool.
stiles stiffens. your goddamn smirk.Â
this is going to be a loooong day.
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and it was. a long day that ended in his right hand wrapped around his cock and a fantasy he wouldn't repeat even if there was a gun to his head.Â
but that was over, and it was three days later, anyway. the pack was meeting at the movies to see a new romcom, which the girls were excited for, and the guys were... hoping it had a good soundtrack. it's not that they didn't want to go, it's just that their time- well, stiles' time could be better spent on things like useless research and avoiding his homework. that was his mindset walking into the theater.
now, he's about three inches from having no mindset at all. you're sat next to him, too close for him to remember a single detail of the movie, and you're wearing a tank top. low cut. lace trim on the top. prettiest color he's ever seen.
and stiles can see straight down it.Â
every time he glances over at you, whether it be an excuse of reaching for the popcorn or making a joke or listening to you talk, he has a view down your top right to where your tits are pressed together, rising and falling subtly with each breath. he wonders what the smooth skin of your breasts would look like covered in hickeys. he imagines the sounds you'd make if he had you pinned down, mouth enveloping your pert nipples. he-
he gets up a little too hastily when he rushes out of the theater, into the quiet hall.
"god," he mumbles, tugging his own hair. "fuck."
he has to will his blood to cooperate before he can show his face again.
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it's getting worse.Â
stiles is chewing on the cap of the marker he has in his hand, eyes darting all over his murder board.
"wouldn't they hunt in packs? this fable here, it reads... stiles?"
stiles turns on his heel, watching you now as you sit on his bed. he's been avoiding looking at you lately, since just recently he had a close call when you hit your knee on scott's coffee table and whined a dramatic 'ahh', leaving stiles to imagine that noise, that face you made in other scenarios.
it's been harder (ha, ha, yeah, no pun intended. he's struggling.) since you asked to come over and help with some research he was doing after a meeting with deaton. you sat all pretty and focused on his bed, twirling and tucking and sometimes tugging your hair when you read out of a book he had borrowed (stolen) from the argent's.
so when he looked at you now, it was with great mental strength. especially when you started rattling off a really smart point he didn't think anyone else would notice that he had realized twenty minutes ago, giving him some time to zone out and watch as you gather your hair behind you, tying it up in a ponytail while you look up at him through your lashes. giving him a second to imagine you looking at him like that with your lips wrapped around his cock, letting him guide you by the ponytail-
stilinski! great. mental. strength.
he turns back to the murder board and nods, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the familiar heat spread all over and his jeans get tight. "yeah, that's- i know, that's a good point."
he hears you shift, the way you get noticeably quiet. "stiles, are you... is everything alright? you seem off."
he shrugs, nods, shrugs again. swallows. "yeah. just a bit tired, that's all."
he can feel your disbelief, but he'd rather feel that then disgust. you both sigh at the same time, and the evening moves on.
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it's pretty much every time he sees you now. he's a mess, unable to choose between relieving himself and willing his dick to cooperate. you've made a mess of stiles, and he's dying.
you're wearing leggings today, talking to scott while stiles watches from the bench. coach is barking orders at a couple of stray lacrosse boys, and stiles is lucky enough to have dodged his attention this evening.
game night is usually when he's free of the hold you have on him, too busy gnawing on his goalie gloves and tracking scott across the field. but you and allison showed up early (curse scott and his happy relationship), so his pea-sized brain has time to imagine sliding the buttery fabric down your legs, kissing exposed skin as he goes. he'd definitely pay close attention to your thighs- he thinks about those more than he'd care to admit, and he's aware of how idiotically insecure of them you are.Â
because of his train of thought, he doesn't realize you've caught him staring until it's too late. you're prancing over excitedly and leaving scott to smirk at stiles all knowingly, and stiles resists the urge to flip him off.
"you gonna play, 24?" you nudge his foot teasingly with your own. he looks up at you and feels those telltale signs as he fanaticizes about tracing the line of your jaw with his finger, both of you panting softly as he coos at you while you whine pathetically. he has to blink away the thought before he can speak.
"um, i hope not. it's an important game." he leans back a bit and you tilt your head, clearly mulling over your next words. he fills the space in the meantime. "but if i do, i'll be sure to keep away from the ball."
it's music to his ears when you laugh. finally, finally he's blushing about something normal, having regular fantasies instead of these hormone fueled pornos that seem to be on repeat in his head lately. he smiles up at you and you take a small step closer to being in between his legs.
"i don't mean to bring it up so randomly..." you avoid his eyes, fiddling with your hands. "but i was just wondering if i've done something to upset you?"
he blinks. "what?"
"it's just that you've been distant and honestly, you're acting kind of like you're allergic to me. if i did something or there's something going on just tell me. it's kinda driving me crazy." you ramble, brows drawn together in discomfort.Â
stiles' eyes widen and he shakes his head, standing. his heart skips a beat when you have to tilt your chin up a bit to keep his eyes. "no, of course not. i didn't know... i guess i've... it's just-" he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. how is he supposed to explain this? 'oh, hey, girl i've been super into for a pathetically long time, i've been imagining what you'd look like if i pinned you to my bed and drove us both insane from a sex marathon! that's cool, right? not objectifying at all!'
you frown, crossing your arms. "just tired?"
it's bait, he knows it is. the same excuse he used less than a week ago to keep you from figuring him out. you're a clever girl and he's stupid when he's horny, so he has to play his cards right here. if you think he's lying, things will only get worse and there's a hefty chance you'll distance yourself. but if he tells a lie a little too well, you're going to be around him constantly again. either way, he's starting to wonder if he's a masochist from the amount of pain he's going to inflict on himself.
"it's nothing, really. i didn't mean to get distant." he clenches his jaw as he gauges your reaction, which is a less-than-ideal-but-not-terrible pout. he wants to smooth the lines of your forehead with his thumb and make you laugh again, but he has to focus. "let me make it up to you?"
you turn your face away (very, very not good) and huff. "no, don't worry about it."
stiles cringes internally and bites the inside of his cheek. how can he un-dig this hole he's in? "no, no, i want to. i shouldn't have made you worry. that's my fault. i'll pick you up tomorrow, we can get food. my treat."
you turn back to face him, and the way your bottom lip just barely juts out tells him you're playing it up, but he doesn't mind. he's come to realize that you like to feel earned, and he's more than happy to earn you. he takes a breath, eyebrows raised. "what are you thinking?"
you drop the pout (much to his relief, he was just starting to imagine you using that face on him when he makes you tell him exactly what you want him to do to you) and put your hands on your (perfect, sexy) hips. "i'm thinking that if you didn't mean to get distant then it was subconscious, and it's going to be more of an effort to be around me than not."
so clever. god, you're so hot when you use critical thinking skills.Â
stiles sighs and shuffles a bit. "yeah, okay, i can understand where you're getting that but it's wrong-"
"but it isn't. you've been proving it right all week and-"
"hold on, no i haven't, i've just been-"
"-you definitely lied to me in your room a few days ago-"
"-there's no way you're actually believing-"
"STILINSKI!" coach's voice booms over both of you, halting the beginning of an argument that probably would have only turned stiles on more. he whips his head around to where the entire team is gathered, and realizes he was so wrapped up in you that he tuned out everything around him, including the team rallying together to talk strategy before the game started. he blinks, distantly hearing you mumble a mortified "oh." and skitter off, leaving stiles to be completely embarrassed alone.
"would you like to join us or are you too busy harassing the young ladies in the general area?" coach's tone is strung with impatience, eyes wide.
"ah..." stiles glances to the spot you just stood in and then back to the team. "no, coach, 'm coming."
"fantastic." he drawls, before turning back to the team and continuing his rant. stiles is half-listening, half-daydreaming about 'making it up to you' in many different ways, positions, and places. for many hours.
yeah, he's dead. for sure. you're killing him.
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although making it up to you currently involved a lot more clothing and a lot less begging, stiles was having a really good time. sat in his room, arguing about book to movie adaptations, both of you holding your own milkshakes. with all his time spent avoiding you out of... sex-driven fear? he really forgot how much he enjoyed your company.
"you wouldn't get it," you shake your head stubbornly as he stands and sets his milkshake on his desk so he can use the dry erase board in his room. "you don't read books."
"i do-"
"yeah, i don't count the bestiary."
"that's besides the point, anyway. i don't have to read the book to know whether the movie is a good adaptation or not!" he starts writing down movies he knows are heavily based off of books while you crawl across his floor to his desk, sneaking a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. he's too busy to notice that the half-melted treat dribbles off of the spoon and spills above the cut of your tank top (the same one as the movie theater, actually) and onto your exposed thighs.
"fuck." you hiss under your breath. stiles turns to see what caused your quiet outburst, but his brain screeches to a halt at the sight of you.
perched on your knees, you're glaring down at the mess that's been spilled on the top of your tits and thighs, white sliding down to the line where they're pressed together. stiles doesn't even blink, just stares with a slightly open mouth at the sight of you. a small noise leaves his mouth and he can feel the tent in his sweats, but he's a bit frozen.
you look up when he makes the strangled grunt, looking caught with his milkshake in your hand, as if that's his issue right now. "uhh... whoops? i swear, it just flew into my hand! how crazy is that...."
your joke trails off as you really see his face. his eyes are dark and hungry, almost predatory as they sweep over your body, hanging on the spills that you made. his mouth shuts and his jaw clenches. his hands are curled into restrained, white-knuckled fists. and...
he's hard as a fucking rock.
it's easy to tell, with his grey sweatpants, and you feel your mouth water at the sight.
"it's fine." he mumbles, voice dry. you take a second before you realize he's talking about the milkshake. both of you are bright red. you force out a breath and he seems to come to, turning back around quickly. "uh, s-so, harry potter-"
"is that because of me?" you blurt, getting hotter in the cheeks every second.
stiles quiets, turning to face you finally. your stomach swoops and you shuffle barely closer. his adams apple bobs.
"yeah. it... it is"
that's it. a simple confession, but it feels like a chord being snapped between the two of you. your confidence grows. you made stiles like that.
"are you gonna do something about it?"
his head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks at you. "you want me to?"
"why else would i ask, stiles?" you sound almost exasperated, like he's taking to long. he swallows and drops to his knees in front of you.
stiles. is crawling towards you. on his knees.
"are you... do you really?" he's close, so close now. looking into your eyes like they'll answer for you. like they contain every 'yes' you've been too scared to whisper.
which, honestly, is probably not far from true.
"i do. i really, really, d-"
his lips are on yours before you can finish, one hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you closer. you let out a muffled noise of surprise, mouth opening on it's own accord as stiles takes the kiss deeper, tongue exploring your mouth hotly.
"you're impossible-" stiles gasps, going in for more before he can finish. "-to be around-" his teeth nip your bottom lip. "-when i can't have you."
his lips leave a wet kiss on the corner of your mouth, so passionate that he misses, and he continues that trail onto your neck until he finds the spot that makes you squirm. his hands go to your waist, pulling you closer and knocking your knees together. you feel dizzy with want, barely registering his words.
"what-" you gasp, blinking and leaning into his demanding mouth. "what is that supposed to mean?"
stiles groans against the skin of your neck, kissing lower, closer to the sticky mess you made just minutes ago. "i can't think... can't even... fuckin'... breathe when you're near, y'look so pretty. j'st wanna make you-"
he interrupts himself again, opting instead to lick the ice cream off the top of your tits like he's starving. you gasp as the feel of his tongue against your skin, pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the sudden pressure shooting down your stomach to your core. he's barely making sense and he still has you all foggy brained, swaying just a bit under his touch.
"you-you've thought about this? befo- oh-" you stumble, as he tugs lightly against the low cut to give himself better access to the sweetness melted onto your skin. he laughs, seeming to clear up a bit.
"yeah. you kidding me? i've basically been-" he's kissing back up your neck now, seeming to track a path to your lips. "-perpetually hard for the past three weeks."
you swallow thickly and he captures your lips. stiles tastes like vanilla ice cream and it's the most tempting sin, luring you over the edge. enticing you to do things you'd normally pretend you weren't into. he runs a hand down the side of your body, squeezing your hip lightly. "you're torture, you know that?"
"i could say the same to you."
he smiles at you, like a sap, like a saint. you feel your mind fall into his hands and your heart nestle against his ribcage. you no longer belong to yourself. you never have. and neither does he, it seems, as his eyes wander all over you.
"wanna move to the bed? i can clean up your thighs..." his tone is low, clearly suggestive in a bad-pickup-line way. you nod, giggling girlishly and stiles hauls you up to gently lay you back on his bed, tugging your tank top off on the way. his eyes linger on your chest before moving along, kissing a wet trail down your body as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. "god, look at you. you're gorgeous."
it's not like you're wearing lingerie and sexy makeup- you went to stiles' place to lounge, so you're wearing your lounge bra and some comfy shorts. stiles looks at you, though, as if you invented beauty. he sighs contentedly as he pulls your bottoms off slowly, eyes drinking in your stomach and hips and thighs like you're the first woman to have them. once he's got them far off enough, his hands press your hips back down and his eyes meet yours.
"not to late to back out. well- obviously it's never too late, it's just... okay, this is me asking for consent. i was trying to make it sexy, but it sounded a bit rapey."
you laugh breathlessly and nod at him where he stands, towering above your almost-naked form. "stiles, please stop talking and fulfill both of our fantasies already."
stiles grins and tugs his shirt halfway off before stopping abruptly. "wait- both?"
you roll your eyes. "stiles, why would i be so... so..."
"obedient?" he offers with a cocky smirk. you flush.
"agreeable, if i didn't want this?" you nibble your lip as he pulls his shirt the rest of the way off his body, getting on his knees at the edge of the bed and spreading your legs. your body moves pliantly under his hands. the sight of it all is downright promiscuous.
"well," stiles presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. it would be sweet if not for the sinful way his eyes are preoccupied with the wet spot on your panties. "i heard girls find consent sexy. maybe i screwed that one up a bit. what do you think is sexy?"Â
he asks in that absent tone that tells you he's storing away information as he kisses further up the inside of your thighs more fervently. you let out a breath that feels too shaky too early and watch as his pink tongue swipes out to lick up some ice cream spill. it makes you clench around nothing.Â
"any day now." his hand is gently rubbing your thigh as he moves to lick and suck almost crudely at your other thigh.
your eyes narrow slightly. "gimme a second."
he gets closer to where you're literally soaked for him, nibbling lightly at the plush flesh of your inner thigh. you shove down a low whine of impatience to avoid your already growing embarrassment.
"your attention to foreplay is- i like it." you admit softly and he hums, licking a stripe of ice cream out of the way. taking a second to think, you continue. "i like the... the desperation. how you took me without really... um... i like it when you just do what you want, i mean."
it's difficult to form a single thought once stiles presses a kiss against your clothed clit, being sure to add plenty of pressure. almost like a reward. "what if you don't like what i want? will you tell me to stop?"
you nod, chest rising and falling heavily with every breath. you glance down at stiles, and a small sound leaves your lips when your eyes catch his hand down his sweats, slowly stroking himself. he flushes.Â
"you.... can't i help?"
he lets out a small moan and his eyes flutter as he halts his movements. "i don't- i don't have a condom."
against all better judgement, you shake your head and thread your fingers through his messy hair. "it's okay. just pull out, yeah?"
his brows shoot up, and you wonder for a moment if he's about to cum in his pants. but then he nods and rises, standing in between your legs now. his fingers deftly tug off your panties, pocketing them in his sweats (for "safe keeping") and his lips part silently once you're exposed to him.
your legs begin to close, feeling suddenly too naked and too insecure for his hungry eyes, but his hands catch your knees easily, even giving you a little tap as a sign to scoot further onto the bed.
before you comply, curiosity takes over and you tug at the strings on his sweatpants. "wait, what about you?"
he tilts his head. "what about me?"
you narrow your eyes, fingers dipping under the band. "can i take these off?"
"oh!" his brows shoot up, as if he forgot about himself altogether. "oh, yeah, of course. please."
you waste no time pulling his bottoms off, his cock springing out. it's flushed and leaking, looking properly erotic in the dim lighting of his room. your eyes flutter up to meet his and you wrap your hands around him, pumping twice.
stiles moans, hips twitching into your hands on their own accord. "holy shit."
part of you just wants to finish him that way, positively fucking hooked on the look he has, pleasure pinching his pretty face all tight. he pants and pulls your hands away, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment. "y're gonna make me cum, holy shit."
"i'm sorry, you just..." you fluster, laughing a tad at the both of you. he shakes his head, though, so you fall silent and let him crawl over top of you, kissing you deeply. he unhooks your bra with a bit of struggle and you both have to cooperate to get it off of your body. you giggle, and his eyes are locked on you as your smile slowly fades.
"don't be sorry," his voice is gentle, "i've imagined that so many times it should be criminal." he kisses you again and you feel his fingers graze along your stomach. stiles pulls back far enough to see your whole face and you wonder why- then his thumb is circling your clit.
the high-pitched gasp you suck in is not as embarrassing as the louder whine that leaves your lips once he's slid a finger into you, eyes closing for a moment to soak in the bliss. it feels like heaven, for a long moment. but his fingers are slow. too slow. and even when you cant your hips, he doesn't speed up enough to have you seeing stars (like you know he can). instead, he has you writhing impatiently. "you're... stiles, please."
it's whiney and pathetic, but stiles seems to stifle a smirk when he hears it, covering it with a sympathetic pout instead. "i know, pretty girl, i know. you gonna ask nicely?"
and you knew you gave him permission to do whatever he wanted. but you didn't expect to be into it. your lips part and you almost tell him to shut up and fuck you already. but you're hot with embarrassment and something else he can totally feel when your walls clench around his torturous fingers. so instead, you opt for falling right into his hands.
"please, stiles, fuck me already." you whisper, lips brushing against his when you speak. "please."
"there we go." he presses a peck to your lips and slips his fingers out. "such a good girl."
you aren't given any time to process that and the fact that it made you throb like a personal whore- stiles is already swiping his tip through your folds, making you gasp when it catches on your clit. he's panting heavily as he lines himself up, and you're a little surprised when he finds your hand and laces his own against it.Â
then, he's stretching you open and you're seeing stars, just like you knew he could make you do.
stiles is sweet, but he's not exactly gentle. hips rolling into you and his tongue pressing against your own. a hand pinning you to the bed and keeping him upright, the other tweaking your nipples or teasing your clit. he's all over you, pulling back every once in awhile to watch the way you arch your back and gasp out unintelligible pleas. his moans are about as pathetic as yours and he hisses "fuck" into your ear when you clench around him tightly. your dance goes on like this for a moment, and he's rambling horny nonsense constantly.
"stiles, 'm close-" you whimper, free hand pulling him closer by the hair. he gasps out and his hips snap roughly.Â
"yeah, me too. jesus, you're so perfect. look at you." he pushes some of your hair out of the way, eyes meeting yours. "you gonna cum for me?"
you nod, eyebrows turning up as you feel the warmth crawl up your belly. your free hand tugs at his mussed up hair again and his expression matches yours. he speeds up and you gasp and whimper, pliant under his body as he fucks you into his mattress.
"stiles, fuck, stiles, i'm-"
"that's it, there you go, hooooly fuck." he holds your hips down when you finish, rutting into you with an open mouth. he's got his forehead pressed against your own, swallowing each others desperate moans as he rides you through your orgasm. stiles' moan is sudden and loud when he pulls out in a rush and finishes on your cunt, his tip pressing into your overstimulated clit and making your legs twitch.
you gasp out a breath and sink into the mattress, sighing contentedly. when your eyes flutter open on heavy lids, stiles is gazing at you. he leans down and kisses you, soft and sweet and full of a confession long coming.
"that was..."
"amazing." he finishes dazedly, hands running over your bare skin anywhere he can reach. "want me to use my mouth?"
your brows raise. "stiles, i just came."
"i know." he sighs, playing with some of your hair. "it was so fucking hot."
"you said you've been perpetually hard for three weeks?" you attempt to change the subject, but stiles only grins wider.
"yeah, so i've got plenty more fantasies to play out before i'm out of steam."
you shove him lightly, fighting a flustered smile. "just- give me a second, you dog!"Â
"awooooo." stiles deadpans an imitation of a howl, nuzzling into your neck. "let me know when you're ready. i'll just be here. naked. on top of you. in the mood to make you pass out from orgasms. willing to learn every kink you have- which, hey, the praise kink was a good guess, right?"
you groan, pushing him off of you. your face is flushed red and you snatch his nearby discarded t-shirt when you sit up. "that was so out of left field."
"yeah, but was it? i mean, you-"
"i'm getting in the shower, stiles." you stand and take a few steps away from him before you turn to gauge his reaction.
his eyebrows shoot up from where he sits on the bed. it makes you bright fucking red when his eyes trail down and he watches a bead of his own cum slide down your inner thigh. he licks his lips.
"i'll come with."
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this is from the vault, so if you've read it already, that's why! don't be afraid to interact with it anyway, i love crazy readers and feral responses sjdjsaskdj
EVERYONE. GUESS WHAT. @obriengf AND I ARE HAVING A SPRING WEDDING AND YOU'RE ALL INVITED BECAUSE THEY FOUND THIS FIC. ALL TOGETHER MY ANONS SAY "THANK YOU JEMMA" AND GO READ HER FIC ABOUT STILES BEING DAD MATERIAL. IT'S ONE OF THE STILES FIC GOATS. OMG. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH JEMMA.
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you're practically vibrating with nerves when you approach stiles' front door, wearing your favorite date night dress and holding a small container of home baked cookies.
sure, you've met noah stilinski in passing. but you hadn't really met him met him and part of you was grateful. it would be so awkward if you were familiar with the sheriff (for the wrong reasons) and he turned out to be your boyfriend's dad.
you only have to knock twice for stiles to swing the door open. he's smiling, a bit disheveled, and he's got... flour on his face?
"hey, come on in, we were just finishing up dinner. what's in the box?" he ushers you inside and leads you through his home, stopping just before the kitchen to smile down at you.
"oh, just a little something to ensure parental approval." you joke, shaking the tupperware gently. stiles laughs and wastes no more time taking the container out of your hands to set on a nearby hallway table, pulling you into a hug. you inhale his scent deeply and feel him do the same to you, squeezing you tightly against him.
"you smell nice." he mumbles into your hair. "missed you."
"you saw me yesterday."
"yeah, and i missed you afterwards. okay, come on." he kisses the top of your head and pulls back, hands sliding down your arms to hold your hand. "burnt pasta awaits."
you don't dare ask how he burnt the pasta when stiles turns a corner and leads you into the very room his dad is standing, mixing a pot of penne pasta. he looks up and smiles politely when he sees you, and you do your best to return the smile with confidence (and not fear of rejection).
"dad," stiles hums excitedly, "this is my girlfriend. girlfriend, dad."
"nice to meet you, sir." you hum. you step forward and shake his hand, meeting his eyes.
"ah, the pleasure's all mine." his handshake is firm and he's grinning kind of like stiles does when he's about to make fun of you. "my son won't shut up about you, it was about time."
you blush and laugh, glancing back at stiles, who snakes his arms around your waist and presses his cheek to the side of your head. "that's very true, she's already gotten that comment from scott."
eyes widening, you feel even hotter with embarrassment. stiles is acting like a theme park couple, one of his hands squeezing your waist where he knows it tickles. you squeak and jump back, wiggling out of his arms. he smiles all dopily at you.
"alright," noah claps his hands together, seemingly not even noticing the interaction. "who's ready for burnt pasta?"
you clear your throat, throwing stiles a bit of a warning look before turning your attention to noah. "i've heard about this, i'm curious to see what burnt pasta could taste like. i'd love a bowl."
noah laughs and dishes you up some, leaving you to bask silently in the victorious (accidental) joke. meanwhile, stiles tucks some of your hair behind your ear and smirks.
"me, too. we never really cook, so it's got to have something wrong with it." he turns to his dad. "dish me up some, chef!"
"you can dish some up yourself. i'm only getting it for our lovely guest." noah looks unimpressed with stiles, waving the wooden pasta spoon at him. "don't think you get off just because you have her to hide behind."
stiles makes a "wha-hey!" noise and scoffs, reluctantly grabbing himself a bowl and scooping out some pasta, bringing both of your dishes to the table. once you're all sat, you thank them both for dinner and ask noah about his work.
and you swear, on your life, you're trying to focus.
but with stiles' big, veiny hand on your thigh like a lifeline, it's a bit fucking difficult.
you know stiles likes touch. but when his fingertips are pushing the hem of your dress up a bit to caress your upper thigh? you swallow thickly. in front of his father, of all people!
you tune back in when stiles starts relaying a funny story. his unoccupied hand reaches across himself and lays on top of your hand as he gets animated, explaining scott's hilarious mistake to his dad with enthusiasm. once he finishes, his hand slides away from yours and the one on your thigh squeezes lightly. "do you guys wanna watch a movie?"
"i rented close encounters of the third kind." noah smirks, pointing at stiles. you watch as stiles gives you a bashful look.
"my dad has an affinity for alien media. you'll learn this sooner than you think."
"they're real!" noah seems only half-joking as he gathers your dishes and makes for the kitchen. "just you wait, you'll be wishing you listened to me."
"yeah, okay dad." hums your boyfriend, waiting for his dad to be out of earshot. once you're safe, he pulls his chair impossibly closer to you. "so, how's it going?"
you blink, still blushing from the whole thigh-hand thing. "oh, uhm, good. right? i think it's going alright."
he nods, standing. you follow and let him cup your face. "i think it's going great. he likes you."
"do you say that to all the girls?" you joke, letting him glance down at your mouth obviously. if stiles wants to make a move on you now that you're dating, he usually does. he hums and laughs a little, pushing your hair out of the way.
"only the pretty ones." he leans down and kisses you, briefly. by the time he's pulling back you've forgotten your manners, pulling him by the t-shirt weakly to keep going. he laughs at you, nibbling his lower lip. "when do you need to be home?"
you glance to the side. "soon, probably. how long is the movie?"
"...two and a half hours."
"yeah," you smile apologetically. "i won't make that. sorry, sti'."
"it's okay babe. my dad and i will probably talk through the whole thing. or worse, we'll kill whoever does talk. it's best if you leave on a good note. c'mon."
you follow blindly as he leads you through the house to the living room, pulling you into his side and wrapping his arms around you loosely. his dad is sat on the couch pulling up the movie, and he turns to look at you guys. he seems only mildly phased by stiles' touchiness. you blush, completely mortified at the inappropriateness of it.
"dad," stiles muses. "she's gotta go."
"ah, alright." noah slaps his thighs and stands, and stiles only moves from your side to behind you, holding your hips lightly as his father approaches. "it was so great to finally meet you. thank you for coming."
you smile and shake his hand, doing your best to ignore stiles' too-comfortable hands. "thank you for dinner, sorry i can't stay."
he shakes his head and waves like 'no problem', but he doesn't get to speak it as stiles perks up. "oh shit, the cookies! we have to try them in front of you!"
"stiles, i'm sure that's not-"
"i'll go grab them, be right back." and he's gone.
you make eye contact with sheriff stilinski, watch as he sizes you up and smiles softly. "i'm sure you're a bit put off by the touching?"
"it's... not unusual. just not so..."
"confident?"
"yes," you laugh, flustered and warm, and glance to where stiles ran off. you can both hear him rummaging around. "i'm sorry about it. i don't want you to think we're immature."
noah shakes his head. "believe it or not, it means good things. i don't know how much he talks about it, but..."
noah stilinski looks off, clenches his jaw. "stiles used to hang off of his mother like that. constantly touching, holding. he used to do it with me, too. a lot. and then, after claudia passed... he just stopped. didn't touch, even hug. the first year was the worst. he's much better, but we don't do much loving anymore. not as much as i should be."
he looks back at you, dead in your eyes. "you're the first person i've seen him so comfortable with. physically, i mean. he holds you almost exactly how he used to hang off of his mother. save for a bit of..." noah clears his throat. "romantic tendencies."
you feel your heart swell; you remember when stiles first got all touchy, that night after you had really dug in, actually had a conversation about the nitty gritty of each other. it had been the first month into dating. he had wandering hands ever since, fully subconsciously.
before you can respond (what are you supposed to say? your boyfriend's dad basically just told you that his son loves you in a way he hasn't loved anyone before), stiles comes barreling back in.
"found 'em! they were on the hallway table, imagine that!" he slings an arm over your shoulder and it makes you all fuzzy in the chest. "okay, lets try them. open the lid, babe. my hands are full."
his hand that isn't offering you the container full of cookies is too busy running through your hair. you smile and gently take the container from him, only giving him another hand to put on you.
â
later, when he walks you to your car and kisses you goodnight, he can't stop talking about how good the night went. you smile into the kiss (he tastes like chocolate chips) and lean back against the drivers side door (his hands are on your hips your cheeks your neck your sides) as he kisses all over your jaw and cheeks and finally, your lips.
"i love you." he whispers against you as he pulls away. you can feel his hands tighten against your body. he's nervous.
"i love you too, stiles." you smile up at him, feeling your heart flutter as he leans in for more.
â
another bad boy from the vault!! don't forget to like, subscribe, and drop into my inbox with that daydream you've been having about stiles for weeks on end. you know the one.
the one where theo's high on cough syrup (a Cough Syrup by Young the Giant inspired fic)
Theo gets high on his pining for you cough syrup.
Sister fic: the one where you're not feeling like yourself
a/n: I am NOT. a doctor. I think it goes without saying do NOT overdose on medication :) also im soooo excited for the sister fic UGHH they're going to complement each other so well im so excited!!!! anyways enjoyyy and thank u for reading <33
tropes/warnings: sick!Theo, slight hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of a bad case of the flu, comedy (I try to be funny pls be nice đđ)
Common symptoms of suburbia-itis include, but are not limited to, headaches, boredom, aversion to homogeneity, and a funny feeling in the back of your throat. Refer to your local physician for more information.
Theo woke up feeling horrible.
Not that this was a new development of late - he had spent the past couple of days walking around with a raw, scratchy throat and a hacking cough that did nothing to help it. Madam Pomfrey diagnosed him with hay fever, but as the only person privy to the thoughts that kept drifting towards a certain Head Girl, Theo felt he knew better.
Theo's cough wasn't the only irritating thing choking him this week, though. On this particular morning, he woke to an insistent tapping on his face.
"You got to take your - hello. Hello.â Blaise tried pulling one of Theo's eyes open. Theo rolled over, pulling the covers over his head, grumbling underneath his breath. Blaise gave the covers a solid yank.
âGood morning, sunshine. Time to take your cough syrup.â
Theo groaned into his pillow as Blaise disappeared into the bathroom to fix his tie. Ugh. The blasted thing. Sticky, saccharine, neon pink syrup. It had to be his least favourite part about falling sick.
Half-asleep, Theo fumbled for the bottle on his nightstand, pouring out what he guessed to be a reasonable dose - that is, as good a guess one could make with their eyes still glued shut.
Stupid cough syrup. Bitter and viscous and yucky. Just thinking about it made him nauseous. Euch, it was like he could feel its awful, honey-thick texture on his tongue right this second.
Theo settled back into his pillows comfortably. Hmm, this was nice. Bed cosy, thoughts foggy enough to be comforting, regret just out of focus. Maybe he could rest his eyes for a lit -
Theo felt his keys to the dorm hit him squarely in the cheek.
"Wha - "
His eyes flew open. In front of him, Mattheo was dressed in his Quidditch robes, making a mess of his nightstand, talking a mile a minute. It made Theo's head spin. He could barely keep up when his senses were at their best, let alone when dulled by antibiotics.
"Your meds," Mattheo enunciated, when Theo's expression remained clueless. "Take them. What is - it's the syrup, right?"
The cough syrup. Right. He was just about to take it.
"Snape's been on my ass to get you back on the pitch this week. Now drink."
Theo protested weakly as Mattheo forced the flimsy, plastic cup to his lips. Thankfully, taking the dose was enough to shut Mattheo up, and he was one foot out the door the next minute. Theo settled into his bed once again, eyes drooping shut.
Unfortunately, his shut-eye only lasted for what felt like a few minutes, before he was shaken awake once again.
"Theo - hey, buddy." Enzo was waving his cough syrup bottle in front of him. "It's time for your next dose."
Theo blinked blearily, dizzy with codeine. Again? So soon? How long had he been knocked out for?
He popped the bottle open for the third time in as many minutes. Man, at this rate, he'd better be spinning like a top by lunch, in the pink of health.
No amount of fight would keep his eyes open at this point. Theo barely managed to set the bottle down before sleep overtook him, dragging him down into a much-needed slumber.
Theodore Nott had a tendency to get sick thinking about you. That is to say, he made himself sick with his longing for you, whether it be through self-medication via alcohol or unadulterated nausea at the very thought of it. Many a night Theo spent trying to drown his sorrows in a bottle of firewhiskey.
"I'm never going to tell her,â Theo would bemoan to his long - long-suffering friends, âso she'll never find out, and she'll die never knowing, and nobody will ever compare to her, so I'll die alone. Oh, Salazar, I'm going to be sick."
And Theo would lurch towards the toilet bowl once again.
When you were together, there was a music only Theo could hear. Simply being in your orbit was enough. Even from opposite ends of the Great Hall, when your eyes met, there would be a warm, buttery feeling meting in his chest, pooling in his fingers and toes. Something about your smile - the one meant for him, and no one else - made him feel like you were the only two people in the world.
When Theo had first noticed it, he hadnât thought much of it. You had to be just one of the many girls he could build this comfortable type of rapport with. The years passed. Your classes changed. Theo met a whole bunch of girls since then. And yet, when your paths crossed, Theo was unpleasantly reminded that he had yet to meet anyone half as magnetic as you. It was jarring, really, the way a split second meeting in the corridor could send his head reeling with adrenaline, and then the crushing dissatisfaction.
So, all things considered, it wasnât like Theo hadnât thought about it. Why, every now and then heâd be struck by a longing so intense that his heads would be filled with nothing but thoughts about it. About you. About you, and him, living out your days together, in some place that didnât yet exist.
But every time heâd daydream, heâd arrive at the same conclusion. There were just too many obstacles. Too many things that could go wrong. And if he did tell her, then what? What if she didn't feel the same? Even if she did, his family would never accept her. You would always be considered beneath, less than, and he could never condemn you to that sort of life.
But there was a burning underneath Theo's eyelids every time he closed his eyes. He didn't like the life he would be walking into. He missed the life he was leaving behind, however terrible it would be.
"Theo? Are you - "
Mattheo stuck his head into their dorm, his voice dying at his lips. In the center of the room was his best friend with his face glued to a...a fish tank? He shuffled in uncertainly, balancing Theo's lunch tray carefully.
"What d'you got there, mate?"
Theo stepped back, but his eyes still followed a stream of bubbles emanating from one of their mouths, mesmerised. "Fish."
"I see that." Mattheo hesitated. "Where'd you get the fish tank from?"
Theo waved, annoyed, like it hardly mattered.
"Look at the fish, Mattheo. They're staring at me." He stepped close once again, his nose flush with the glass. "Why are the fish staring at me? Do they always do that?"
Mattheo was at a loss for words.
ââŚwhere did the fish come from?â
Theo stepped back and gave Mattheo the dirtiest look he could manage with his sinuses this stopped up.
âOh, I see how it is. It's always, 'why is there a fish tank in our room' and 'did you steal fish from the Black Lake' and never 'wow, Theo, I really like what you've done with the room.'"
âYou stole fish from the Black Lake?â
Theo huffed irritably, as if that piece of information was of little consequence. He looked back at the tank, tracing the fish's path longingly.
"Do you think Y/N likes fish?" he wondered. Mattheo perked up, somehow even more alarmed now.
"Uh, I don't think Y/N would want this aquarium," he
Theo scoffed as he scooped up the tank with surprising strength. Mattheo raised his eyebrows. Just this morning, he was practically bedridden.
"Well," sniffled Theo indignantly, "shows what you know."
Mattheo watched Theo with a strained patience. Theo sniffled.
"It's nothing."
"Okay, Th-"
"You know nothing."
"Yeah, I got that."
Mildly peeved, he gently pried Theo's fingers off the aquarium. Mattheo glanced at the door helplessly, and then at the tank, and then at Theo's red, runny nose. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly.
"Fine. We'll give it to her. You...wait here. I'm going to go look for Blaise to, er, help us move it."
Blaise walked into the dorm, ready to toss his book bag away and knock out for the next three to four hours. Instead, he paused at the sight of Enzo standing thoughtfully at Theo's nightstand, a short distance away from a suspiciously well-maintained aquarium.
"What did you do now?" he asked wearily.
Enzo lifted an empty plastic bottle, the edges still rimmed with a tinge of pink.
"Theoâs cough syrup. Itâs almost finished."
Blaise frowned.
"How? He hates the thing."
They were interrupted by the muffled sound of rapid footsteps approaching. Mattheo burst in, chest heaving, hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Guys, guys, there you are. I...I think....Theo drank all of his cough syrup."
Mattheo straightened, his face still lightly flushed.
"As in, the entire bottle."
Enzo held up the empty bottle. "You mean this bottle?"
"Yes, yes, that's the one. And he got this aquarium from Merlin know where - "
"This aquarium?"
"Yes, exactly. And he was acting all loopy and - "
Mattheo paused and looked around the dorm room.
"Where's Theo?"
Blaise and Enzo gave him a look. Mattheo deflated.
"...he's gone, isn't he?"
"Yep."
Theo was sitting in the Great Hall, oblivious to the wide berth the other Slytherins were giving him - one of them was even glaring at him with his shirt pulled over his nose. No, he was occupied by a certain witch, listlessly pushing her rice and beans around with a fork. He hadn't seen you around lately, so he wasn't expecting to see you around today, but now he was glad of the whim that possessed him to drag himself down for lunch.
Unless, of course, he was dreaming. Theo watched you take a deep breath as you stared morosely at your plate. He frowned. Maybe it was the harsh lights of the hall washing you out, but your face looked a little pinched, and your movements were a little more sluggish than they typically were. Theo didn't think he would imagine you like that.
Before he realised what he was doing, Theo was climbing out of his seat and walking towards yours. As he neared, you glanced up and put your fork down.
"Theodore," you said, confused. Theo winced internally. It stung to hear you use his full name, so distant, so impersonal. Still, he was a little soothed by the worried crease between your eyebrows.
"Are you alright? Is everything okay?"
Theo opened his mouth to insist he was fine, never been better, when a terrible, inopportune coughing fit crawled up his throat. You winced as Theo hacked away, patting his arm, looking around over the top of his head.
"Oh, you poor thing. I think I saw Mattheo somewhere - "
"No." Theo grabbed your wrist with a feverish urgency.
"There's something I got to tell you, Y/N. I've got to tell you or I'm going to burst."
You looked alarmed.
"What?"
Theo licked his dry, cracked lips, searching for the right words.
"Life's short."
You sympathetically patted Theo's hand. "Okay, you're delirious." You craned your neck again. "Where is Mattheo? I swear, he was running around here just a second ago."
"No," Theo insisted. Your eyes snapped back to his.
"I have a point, I promise." Theo closed his eyes and thought hard.
"I meant, life's too short...to care about things that aren't worth caring about."
He opened his eyes and looked at you meaningfully. Unfortunately, you were still completely lost.
"Theo, how sick are you?"
Theo scowled.
"Who told you I was sick? Was it Mattheo? It was Mattheo, wasnât it? No, itâs okay, you donât have to protect him, just tell me. Or donât tell me. Just - just nod.â
Your gaze drifted from Theo's pajamas back to his face. You pressed the back of your hand to his clammy forehead. It took everything in his willpower not to lean into your touch. You pulled your hand away, concerned.
"Theo, youâre sick as a dog. Will you go to bed if I tuck you in?"
Theo gave a long exhale, trying to slow his hammering heart, which threatened to burst out of his chest.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he said, after a too-long pause. "That's cool with me, I guess."
The corner of your mouth twitched. You abandoned your lunch and helped Theo back up the stairs. Whatever high that had possessed Theo to go up all those spinning, spiralling staircases was starting to come down. As you gently helped him back into bed, his weak muscles protesting the unexpected excursion, his head swam dangerously.
As Theo settled in, you pulled his covers up, taking a seat on his bed next to him. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, sneaking glances at each other as the weight of old memories pressed in on you. Up close, Theo could see the dark circles under your eyes, and the gaunt pallor to your face.
"Are you okay?"
You looked stunned.
"Wh - me? Yeah, I'm - of course I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
Theo's brow furrowed.
"I dunno. Just...you look a little pale."
You nervously laced your fingers together.
"Oh, you know. The weather."
"It's summer."
You hesitated.
"I've just been so busy with Head Girl work."
"Oh." Theo wondered why you were lying to him. "Okay."
He smoothed his sheets awkwardly, anything to fill the silence.
"Erm," he said after a while, "don't be too busy."
Maybe it was just a figment of his cough-syrup-addled imagination, but he could have sworn there was a fondness in the way you were looking at him.
"I try not to," you said quietly. You sighed.
"But sometimes it gets out of hand. Sometimes it's all I have to fill my days with."
"You can fill it with me."
You gave Theo a sidelong look.
"Your days, I mean," Theo hurriedly clarified. "Your life. You could fill your life with my company. Am I making sense?"
Theo shook his head.
"I think I've had too much cough syrup."
You eyed the near-empty syrup bottle on his nightstand worriedly.
"I'll say. Maybe lay off of it for today. Or the week."
"Yes, boss."
Your mouth pulled into a sudden smile, as if caught unawares. Making you laugh instantly made Theo feel lighter. That, and the way you were dragging your thumb across his knuckles. It soothed him.
"I miss this," you said after a beat.
"Miss what?"
Your head was bowed, hidden from Theo as you watched the patterns your thumb traced on the back of his hand.
"You know. Your company," you said, with a teasing smile. "JustâŚtalking to you." You rolled your eyes half heartedly.
"I mean, you probably donât remember, but we used to talk all the time."
It was a good thing Theo was already lying down. And that you didn't see the way he was gawking at you.
"I remember," he choked out with a forced casualness. I think about it all the time, Theo wanted to say. I think about how every second away from you is one less second I get to spend laughing, talking, and sitting with you.
Your eyes wandered around his dorm room, at the books and knick-knacks strewn all around, your eyes settling on its newest addition.
"That's some aquarium you got there."
"Do you like it?" Theo asked hopefully, in a strained voice. But before he could offer it to you, the door flew open. You jumped up, pulling your hands out of Theo's, much to his disappointment.
"Oh, look at that," Blaise said dryly, tossing his keys on the mantel, "Theo's here. Just like I said he would be."
Blaise glanced at you, as if having only just noticed you.
"Oh. Hi, Y/N," he said warmly. "How're you doing?"
"Good. Great. I was just - " You gestured towards the door awkwardly. You shuffled past the rest of Theo's roommates as they filed in. They mumbled a couple of greetings, and you waved them off. You put your hand on the doorknob, looking in one last time.
"Well, nice seeing you all," you said. Your eyes met Theo's.
"Feel better soon, Theo."
"You too," Theo said, somewhat stupidly. Your lips quirked at that.
"I already do."
You turned and left, the boys listening to your footsteps fade away. Blaise pulled his coat off.
âAnyway, Iâm not going to say I told you so, but - "
Blaise yelped as he got shoved down the dormitory stairs. Theo helpfully threw a pillow after him.
He turned to his roommates, clearing his throat.
"So, what'd I miss?"
bonus
Theo woke with a start to a knife-like pain searing his throat. He tried his best to stifle the coughing fit that was taking over.
Theo blinked, sobered, painfully aware of every ache, every pain in his body. Turning onto his side, his mind slowly sifted through the syrupy, unreal memories of the day. Of seeing you. Of meeting you. Of making an absolute fool of himself in front of you.
Of letting you slip through his fingers once again.
The misery was inescapable now in the dead of the night, alone, while the rest of his roommates were blissfully asleep. The desire, the want, the ache that the cough syrup had dulled returned in full force. He took in a shuddering breath, and there it was again - that tickle in his throat, forcing itself out. He coughed weakly, as if his body didn't have the strength to manage a proper one.
His eyes wandered to his nightstand, where his new bottle of cough syrup stood. With a considerable effort, Theo slowly sat himself up. He reached for the bottle and, with trembling hands, poured himself another dose.
Just one more spoon of cough syrup. One more spoon couldn't hurt.
in which â with the yule ball nearing at hogwarts, many boys plan on testing their luck at asking your handâyet to no avail. when your friends overhear a fellow slytherin boy plan on asking you, who has a history for leading girls on, they set off to sabotage his chances..
contains â six overprotective friends (draco malfoy, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, blaise zabini, enzo berkshire, pansy parkinson), slytherin!reader, a brief quidditch game, appearances from an invisible harry potter, marcus flint, fred weasley, ron weasley, hagrid, and more
word count â 3.9k
âDid you see the way she blocked that Quaffle? It was brilliant,â the voice of Adrian Pucey, Chaser of the Slytherin Quidditch team, echoched through the changing rooms.
âSheâs brilliant,â Marcus Flint, Chaser and team captain, said.
Theodore Nott, who had been running a towel through his freshly-washed hair following an intense Quidditch practice, rolled his eyes at the conversation. His ears perked up, however, when he suddenly heard your name brought up.
âPlanning on asking her later tonight?â Pucey asked, the sound of his voice becoming muffled as he pulled a fresh shirt over his head.
âYeah. Just hoping no oneâs beat me to it,â Flint said, as he packed his emerald green Quidditch robes away.
âI donât know, a lot of people have been planning on it. I overheard a group at the Hufflepuff table during breakfast saying that Cedric Diggory was going to ask her,â Pucey said.
âWell, heâs just gonna have to settle for someone else, then, wonât he?â Flint said, clapping a hand on Puceyâs shoulder, before the two made their way out of the changing rooms.
Theo scoffed. âDid you hear what they just said?â he turned towards Mattheo Riddle and Draco Malfoy, who were also on the Slytherin team.
âNo, whatâd he say?â Mattheo asked, as he was too busy trying to polish the handle of his broomstick.
Draco rolled his eyes at him, before relaying the hushed conversation.
âFlint is planning on asking her? No, no way. Heâs a proper git,â Mattheo said.
âExactly,â Theo said, biting the skin of his lip.
âWhy donât we just stop him?â Mattheo asked, pulling on his uniform robes as he spoke.
âAnd how exactly do you plan on doing that?â Draco asked.
Mattheo simply smirked.
Fighting to catch their breath, the three boys made their way inside Professor Flitwickâs Charms class â not without having had the stairs change directions on them, much to the delightment of the portraits on the wall.
As they walked through the large wooden door, they spotted you, sitting alone at a table, pulling your wand out of the pocket of your robes.
They sighed in momentary relief, before spotting him. Marcus Flint had entered just moments prior to them, and was making his way over to the vacated seat next to you, a smug look on his face.
Without even a momentâs hesitation, Theo stride over to your desk from the opposite side of the room. With the books he held in his arms, he pushed them harshly against Flint, who toppled backwards a few steps. Theo seized the opportunity, pulling out the chair next to yours, placing his books down harshly on the desk connected to yours.
âSalve, bella,â he greeted innocently, sitting down before Flint could even collect himself. âHey,â you greeted back, looking over at him with a small smile.
Theo looked to the other side of him, shrugging at Marcus with an even smugger look on his face. Marcus scoffed, begrudgingly placing his own books on the desk behind yours.
Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who had watched the whole ordeal from the desks beside yours, giggled, as Mattheo and Draco made their way to the desks on the other side of where the two you sat.
They each shot Flint a glowering look, before sitting down.
âPansy,â Theo whispered.
âPansy,â Draco whispered, as the girl hadnât responded.
âPansyyy,â Mattheo drew out.
Pansy Parkinson slammed her quill down on top of her copy of Advanced Potion-Making, before turning towards the group of boys around her.
âCan I help you?â she asked, a little too loudly â many heads in the crowded library turned towards her.
âNot us,â Theo said, before informing the girl on the current predicament that was to âscarâ a member of their group.
âWhatâs so bad about Flint? She told me just the other day that he had caught a rogue Bludger before it hit her head,â Pansy said.
âYeah, that he had caused,â Blaise Zabini, who was also on the Quidditch team, clarified. âIf he hadnât darted across the pitch towards the goalposts trying to impress her, that Bludger wouldnât have even gone near her pretty face.â
âAnd, you didnât hear this from me,â Mattheo said, his voice hushed, âbut someone might have caught Marcus Flint snogging a Ravenclaw at the Three Broomsticks at the last Hogsmeade visit.â
âIf by âsomeoneâ you mean the same guy who bind his legs together so he fell face-first in the snow?â Enzo Berkshire teased.
âOh, please. He was begging for it â what, with how red his lips were,â Mattheo defended.
âJust days before that,â Theo added on, âhe had planned on putting a love potion in a fourth-year Slytherinâs pumpkin juice at breakfast.â
âSo basically, the guyâs a git,â Draco concluded, his arms crossed as he leant back against a bookcase.
Pansy picked up her quill, lifting the end of it up to her lips as she thought. âOkay, letâs just set her up with someone else, then,â she said, pulling the feathery quill away from her lips to place back in her ink bottle.
Theo tutted. âThatâs almost worse. We canât have her running about with a Hufflepuff of all people at the Yule Ball.â
âOkay, so why donât one of you go with her?â Pansy asked.
The five boys blinked, before looking at each other.
Enzo opened his mouth, almost protesting, before his lips met once more. Blaise rubbed a hand over his jaw tensely.
âMerlin, you guys are helpless,â Pansy said exasperatedly, shutting the cover of her textbook closed.
âItâs not that big of a deal,â you argued, as Theo reached down towards the hem of your coat, rubbing coarse snow off the material.
âPlease, you wouldâve fallen face-first in the snow if Mattheo hadnât caught you,â Draco said from where he stood next to you. As the seven of you had begun making your way towards Hogsmeade, your boot had caught on something you couldnât see â causing you to lose your balance. Mattheo, who had been walking in front of you, quickly spun around at the sound of your astonished shriek, grabbing hold of your forearms before you could fall to the ground â your long coat having dragged against the snow.
âItâs not my fault! I swear, it felt as if Iâd tripped over someoneâs foot â I even heard someone whisper an apology to me!â you defended.
âNone of us heard anything,â Pansy said, as you couldâve sworn you heard Blaise whisper something along the lines of âSheâs mentalâ in Theoâs ear.
âItâs fine, really,â you said, as Theo placed a quick Hot-Air Charm on your coat to dry it off.
As you entered the village of Hogsmeade, the small shops of the vicinity were limned with snow, many of the students and villagers bundled up from head-to-toe to ward against the bitter weather. âWhere should we head to first?â Enzo asked, his head turning towards the line of shops.
âPansy and I have to find shoes for the Yule Ball,â you said, as you looped your arm through hers.
The five boys looked at each other.
âSo,â Mattheo cleared his throat. âAbout that, do you know who youâre going with yet?â he asked, feigning nonchalant interest.
The boysâ breaths hitched simultaneously. âNo, not yet,â you said. They sighed in relief, Theo even smirking at your words.
âI mean, I think Seamus Finnigan was planning on asking me on the way to McGonagallâs class,â you added solemnly. âBut I think he got cold-feet.â
Blaise held back a snigger, earning him a glare of warning from Draco. Seamus had been planning on asking you â heâd even boasted about it to all the Gryffindors â but, as Mattheo had heard him discussing it with Dean Thomas in passing, heâd quickly brushed shoulders with the boy, causing his books and rolls of parchment to topple to the floor. Mattheo waved his wand inconspicuously on top of one of the fallen parchments.
âHey, watch where youâre going, man,â Seamus roared, leaning down to pick up his fallen materials. As he stood up, arms full of books and loose rolls of parchment, Dean gasped. âSeamus, your face,â he pointed at the boyâs forehead. The words âBACK OFFâ were spelt in angry purple pimples across the skin of his forehead. Mattheo caught Seamusâ eye, smirking, before turning down the corridor.
âEvery boy is just dying to ask you, donât worry about it,â Pansy giggled, pulling you towards Gladrags Wizardwear, away from the boys. You shot them a quick shrug, waving in parting.
Mattheo sighed, a smirk on his face. âIâm surprised. I had thought Seamus was sure to try again,â he said.
âHeâs a Gryffindor, their whole house values are a hoax,â Blaise said, watching as a group of weary third-years ran in the opposite direction of the Shrieking Shack.
The door to Honeydukes jingled open, stepping out of it two familiar Slytherin students.
Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey talked animatedly to one another, their hands filled with bags of sweets.
âDo you think sheâll like these?â Flint asked.
âDefinitely. Sheâs always eating those sherbet lemons before Quidditch practice,â Pucey said matter-of-factly.
The two boys made their way through the crowd of students in Hogsmeade, oblivious to the five glaring boys who stood a distance away.
As Flint adjusted the green-and-silver scarf that rested around his neck, Mattheo pulled out his wand.
Enzo quickly reached towards him, lowering his arm that held the wand. âWhat are you doing?â he shrieked.
âTheyâre obviously talking about her,â Mattheo said quickly.
âThey havenât said anything bad,â Enzo defended.
As Enzoâs hand wrapped around the length of Mattheoâs wand to aim it downwards, a non-verbal incantation accidentally spewed out from the tip, green sparks illuminating at the two boys who now stood outside the Three Broomsticks.
âWhat-,â Marcus Flint called out, as a snowball had suddenly come barreling towards him, colliding with the back of his head.
As he turned, more came pelting towards him from an unknown source behind the group of watchful Slytherin boys, striking his coat and the middle of his face.
Adrian Pucey turned, coming face-to-face with another snowball, now aimed towards him. He quickly darted out of the way to avoid it, bumping into Flint â the two of them toppling backwards into a pile of packed snow.
As they regained themselves, they sat upwards, more snowballs continuing to shoot towards them.
âCome on!â Pucey roared, darting back towards the castle.
Several people had come out of the shops at the sound of the raucous, pointing and laughing at the scene before them. Draco was leaning against Blaise to stay upright through his own hysterics.
Flint shot a furtive look around, before running after him.
âWow, thanks mate,â Mattheo chortled. âThat went better than I couldâve hoped,â he patted Enzo on the shoulder approvingly.
âOH, that had to have hurt,â the voice of Lee Jordan roared throughout the pitch, following a Bludger that had struck Fred Weasley near his crotch.
âGryffindorâs in possession of the Quaffle â OOH, but an amazing save from the Slytherin Keeper. Sheâs quite beautiful as well, many boys would surely agree-,â he began.
âJORDAN!â McGonagall roared at him.
âOnly saying the truth, Professor,â he defended.
Theo, who was sat on his own broomstick high above the pitch, scoffed at the boyâs words. He agreed with them, of course, but he would never admit to sharing the same opinion as a Gryffindor.
Mattheo flew up next to him, the two of them watching you as you guarded the goalposts for their teamâs side.
âSlytherinâs Captain now has possession of the Quaffle, heâs speeding,â Jordan roared.
They watched as Marcus Flint flew past you with the Quaffle held in his hands, shooting you a sly wink before barreling through the Gryffindor players.
They caught sight of you as you blushed â whether out of genuine infatuation, or embarrassment at the lewd gesture, they werenât sure.
âSlytherin scores!â Lee Jordan yelled, as the scores were updated for the match; 30 - 10 to Slytherin.
Marcus Flint wore a smug look on his face, fist-bumping Adrian Pucey as he passed him.
Draco Malfoy made his way over to where Theo and Mattheo hovered, craning his neck around in search of the fluttering Golden Snitch. As he spotted Flintâs ludicrous display of pride, he rolled his eyes. âI honestly wouldnât mind if we didnât win, just so I never have to see that stupid look on his face,â he scoffed out.
Mattheo rolled his eyes, as Flint aggressively banged his broomstick against Alicia Spinnet, one of the Gryffindor Chasers, causing her to fly straight into the high seats of the stands.
âYou know what..â Marcus said, before flying forwards. He seized hold of a rogue Bluder before it could fly forwards, directing its path towards Marcus Flintâs broomstick.
As the large ball collided with the handle of Flintâs broom, he fell forwards off the base of it â falling through one of the hoops on the Gryffindor side, his broomstick falling after him.
The crowd winced, many of the Gryffindors even cheering after what heâd done to one of their Chasers.
Everyone craned their heads towards the grounds, watching as Flint lifted himself up groggily.
Mattheo actually laughed. âFlint, youâre supposed to send the Quaffle through the hoops,â he joked, before flying to the opposite side of the pitch, Theo chuckling behind him.
He caught sight of you â you looked down at the boy with your mouth agape, shaken by his fall, and the fact that it appeared as if Flint was hoisting a broken arm now.
Mattheo stared at your expression of shock for a moment. âHe was begging for it,â he clarified, facing towards you. You turned your head to him, speechless.
âPotterâs caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!â Lee Jordan yelled, the stands exploding with yells of triumph.
The sounds of your team membersâ groaning could be heard against the roaring crowd, but you didnât pay them any mind. You scoffed at Mattheo, before flying towards the grounds.
âSheâs still not talking to you?â Pansy asked over dinner. The section of the Slytherin table that was usually occupied by the seven of you was now partially-empty â with you being in the hospital wing, checking in on Flint.
âNo,â Mattheo said through a mouthful of shepherdâs pie. âIâve already told her it was an accident.â
âUh.. no it wasnât. We all saw what happened,â Enzo said confusedly.
Mattheo glared at him. âWell, I didnât intend for him to fall,â he defended. âAnd besides, with our Captain injured, the next Quidditch match will have to be postponed.â
âWell, forget about all of that for now,â Blaise said, trying to ease the tension. âThe ballâs tomorrow.â
âYeah, I heard tomorrow nightâs supposed to be spectacular,â Enzo chimed in.
The golden platters in front of them vanished of dinner, dessert appearing in their place. âIâve heard that Dumbledore hired the Weird Sisters again for the whole evening,â Pansy said.
Theo helped himself to a treacle tart. âWait, Panse â who are you going to the ball with?â he suddenly asked.
Pansy blushed furiously. She reached for her goblet of pumpkin juice, bringing it up to her lips to hide her reddening cheeks. She swallowed harshly against the cup, her eyes meeting Dracoâs over the top.
âThereâs no chance,â Theo said, catching on.
Draco smirked. âWell, you lot were all too preoccupied to even consider asking Pansy over here,â he said. âAnd, by the looks of it, Iâm the only of us who has a date for tomorrow.â
The four boys looked between the two of them in shock.
Blaise leaned forwards, looking up-and-down the table. He whistled softly to catch the attention of a girl in their year on the other end. Daphne Greengrassâ head of long blonde-hair whipped towards the sound.
âDaphne, want to go to the ball with me?â he causally asked. The girl looked over at her younger sister who sat to her other side, who nodded frantically at her. âYeah, alright,â she said smiling, before turning towards her friends, who all squealed.
âYouâre not the only one,â he said smugly, reaching for a cream custard from the middle of the table.
Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo sat there, eating frustratedly. Enzo looked rather pale at the news that, by the looks of it, he would be attending the ball without a date. Theo and Mattheo, however, glared at one another.
Feeble phrases of âI love your dress!â and âYou look stunning!â were exchanged throughout the Entrance Hall. The five boys, dressed in black and white dress robes, made their way up the stairs of the dungeons towards the sounds â Pansy, dressed in a pale pink dress that complimented her look, with her arm looped through Dracoâs.
Pansy had already relayed the news that you would be attending the ball, but without Flint, who was still cooped up in the hospital wing. Even without his injury, he hadnât mustered up the nerve to ask you in the end.
As they made their way into the Great Hall, which was decked with false snow over the enchanted ceiling, and an abundance of small circular tables crowded around a large empty dance space, they quickly found a table large enough to situate the lot of them.
As rounds of students dressed to the nines continued to file into the Hall, all of their heads stayed craned towards the entrance, anticipating your arrival.
When the staff made their way towards the large table at the front of the room, Dumbledore leading the end of the rear, they still stared, waiting for you.
Yet, with a flick of his wand, the doors were shut, the lights were dimmed, and the music began â you hadnât arrived.
As the dance floor quickly crowded with students â sounds of winces from toes being stepped on, whistles of appreciation as Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson partook in an odd sort of waltz, cheers as the Weird Sisters performed the night away â you were nowhere to be seen.
âI thought you said she was coming,â Mattheo called across the table accusatorially to Pansy.
âThatâs what she told me!â she defended, as Draco made his way back to the table with two glasses of punch in his hands. Soon enough, she placed her finished cup down, reached for his hand, and the two of them were now part of the large group of students on the dance floor.
Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo sat at the now empty table dejectedly, watching as Blaise and Daphne engaged in a rather fond display of affection.
âHey,â a girl called out. All three of their heads quickly looked up, expecting to spot you, but it was a Ravenclaw student a year below them, who was speaking to Enzo.
âWant to dance?â she asked. He blinked in surprise, before gratefully accepting the offer, jumping to his feet and stumbling slightly over the table cloth near his feet.
âGreat, just great,â Theo said, as Enzo now joined the excited crowd of students â small Professor Flitwick was even crowd-surfing, as Professors McGonagall and Snape watched in mild-amusement; it even looked as if Snape was fighting back a smirk.
Then, they spotted you. You were stood behind the doors of the Entrance Hall, watching the crowd on the dance floor.
Their eyes widened, taking in your appearance â you were wearing a black dress, and your hair was cascading neatly down your shoulders and back.
With one long look at the crowd, you turned away, out-of-sight.
Mattheo and Theo looked at each other, before leaving their seats, mumbles of âExcuse us,â and âOh, just move! Would you?â falling from their lips as they followed after you.
As they left the loud atmospheric Great Hall, they spotted you sitting alone on the steps of the Entrance Hall, leaning against your legs as you held them tightly to your frame, carefully with the dress you wore.
A group of girls sat behind you, comforting a sobbing girl as she rubbed furiously at her red-rimmed eyes, mascara staining her cheeks.
âBella, whatâs the matter?â Theo asked as softly as he could. He sat down next to you on the steps, Mattheo sitting down on your other side.
You sniffled slightly. As their eyes adjusted to the contrasting dim glow of the Entrance Hall against the dimly-lit Great Hall, they noticed how you had even done your makeup pulchritudinously for the occasion.
âI donât have a date,â you whispered, slightly embarrassed.
Mattheo shifted as he sat on the stone step. âDonât worry, we donât either,â he said.
You wiped quickly at your cheeks, before turning towards him at his words. âReally?â you asked, slightly shocked.
âYeah, well, we were sort of at odds with each other over whoâd get to ask you,â Mattheo said, reaching forwards and snatching a bottle of Butterbeer from a younger student, who was too frightened to object. He unscrewed the cap, throwing his head back as he took a long swig.
âThough, I donât think we really realized it until Marcus Flint tried to do what we couldnât,â Theo admitted.
âWait, so thatâs why you basically tried to kill him?â you asked Mattheo.
âUh, not killed, but.. yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious, to be fair,â he said, taking another swig of the Butterbeer.
âWell, whatâs done is done,â Theo said, shifting the conversation awkwardly from what theyâd guiltily admitted to doing. âThereâs no point in moping about it out here, when the dance is in there,â he said, pointing into the Great Hall, where Hagrid was now spotted towering over the crowd of students as he found himself in the middle of the dance circle.
âCome on,â he stood up, reaching his hand towards you. Mattheo placed his half-finished bottle of Butterbeer on the steps, before extending his hand out to you as well.
You smiled softly, reaching for both of their hands as they pulled you up, towards the Great Hall.
As you entered, you heard a loud shout of your name over the blaring music, before Pansy came striding towards you, Draco behind her. âYou look beautiful,â you both said at the same time, causing the two of you to giggle.
âCome, youâve almost missed it â Professor McGonagall is dancing with Ron Weasley!â she exclaimed, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the loud ensemble of students.
Draco, Mattheo, and Theo followed after, and it was not long before Blaise and Enzo found the four of you.
As Theo offered you his hand for a dance, you took it â the two of you slow-dancing alongside Pansy and Draco, as her head rested against his shoulder. Even Enzo and Mattheo had decided to, jokingly, dance together â much to the entertainment of everyone around them, many people not even attempting to suppress their giggles at the sight of them.
As Mattheo later bowed to you for a dance, the two of you jumped in the mass of the crowd, everyone singing along to a familiar tune the Sisters crowed out.
With Pansy gossiping in your ear about who you âwouldnât believeâ Moaning Myrtle had corralled into saving her a dance, Mattheoâs head lolling onto Blaiseâs shoulder at the table after having drank too much Butterbeer, Enzo wincing as he rubbed at his back after having fallen when Mattheo refused to catch him in a jig, and Draco and Theo shamelessly laughing at students who failed miserably to dance with their partners â you were glad that the ball had finally dropped.
Š angelicchris
notes â. đ âË thank you for the request, anon, i hope you liked it !! i just finished re-reading the gof and couldnât resist writing for the yule ball đ
head boy tom riddle having his own publicly claimed compartment on the hogwarts express like heâs had every year since he was a fourth year.
no one touches it. no one dares to even knock. the blinds are drawn shut on the way to and back from hogwarts at the start and end of each school year. students gossiped all the time since heâs officially â unofficially â put his name on that specific spot.
they talk about how much he values his privacy.
about how he might be jerking off.
but this year, things were different. for the first time, he let someone else inside with him.
you.
and of course, people speculate. itâs rather scandalous, isnât it? for a boy and a girl who were dating to be alone, shut together in a small space, not a sound coming from inside?
some try to peek in to find out. nervous first years search for empty seats and older students steer them away from their doom, whispering stories like they do every year in the corridor like tradition, one after another chiming in on the mystery of riddleâs compartment. some say heâs simply studying up for the new school year beforehand to be ahead like always. others say heâs finally found a partner to share his so called sexual escapades with.
but, there is simply no way, right? golden, head boy, respectful prodigy, polite gentleman, saint riddle would never do that to a girl on the train to hogwarts, would he?
he would never be sitting silently with his legs crossed and a book on his lap in that compartment on the express, humming to himself in thought as he read through an issue for the new curriculum, turning a page every once in a while with one hand.
âŚwhile the other sat squeezed just between your shut thighs and inside your soaked panties beneath your skirt, long fingers curling and thrusting in and out of your sopping little hole absentmindedly as you squirmed in your seat beside him, panting and whimpering quietly like he said to while clinging onto his arm, hips humping your cunt against his digits desperately while he paid you no mind whatsoever.
tom riddle was always a good multitasker, and heâd need the skill to balance work and pleasure for this coming year. so, he is doing just that â diligently taking care of his academics and dutifully assisting his girlfriend who was just so pent up after not having seen him all summer.
poor thing.
out there, they all say heâs either studious or debauched. tom riddle thinks: why canât he be both?
after all, it was just his responsibilities as head boy(friend).
synopsis. best friends donât fuck â unless your name is lorenzo berkshire and your girl asks for a creampie on camera.
pairing. childhood best friend! lorenzo berkshire x reader
content/mdni. fem!reader, cheeky!enzo, flirty!enzo, protective!enzo, kind of sub!enzo, allusions to mutual pinning, handjob, voice kink, riding, consensual filming/sex tape, unsolicited dicc pic (NOT from enzo), teasing, dirty talk, slight degradation, praise, pet name (babe, my girl), p in v, raw sex, creampie
word count. 4k
a/n. this is so tame compared to the other stuff i posted recently! also, first enzo fic!! sorry for the wait, my sweet @belovedenzo! fyi, the creep is named after a weirdo that bothered me in real life, so yeah! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
âhmmm, hm, hmmm.â
the soft hum of enzoâs deep voice nicely matched the tame whirling of the electric fan, growing louder when the head was pointing at him, and going quieter when the spinning blades turned towards you.
it was summer. and as much as you wanted to catch up and play around with your childhood best friend enzo, the heat discouraged the two of you from staying close to one another. so there you were now, spread on the l-shaped couch in your living room, on the two extremities, with a god-sent fan in the middle.
it danced towards enzo first, blessing his shirtless, boxer-clad form with a cool gust of air, then it panned over to you, drenched in sweat in your sports bra and panties.
thank god you were living alone, otherwise you wouldnât hear the end of it from your mother about how it is not proper to stay like that with a man around bla bla bla.
it was enzo. the guy you knew since you were in diapers. the guy with whom you shared countless of baths when you two were kids. the guy who was there through every embarrassing stage of your puberty.
staying in your underwear around one another was nothing.
âitâs the highest setting, right?â you mumbled after locking your phone and dropping it to the side, displeased by the little breeze of the electric fan.
âyeahâŚâ he muttered back, slight disappointment latched onto the brief confirmation. he didnât even bother to raise from his horizontal position, already recalling the desperation he had while smashing the plus button on the fan.
âugh, i wanna peel my skin off my face.â
it was evening already, yet the heat was as persistent as ever. maybe you should get some ice from the freezer and just⌠dump it on you? yeah, maybe even sneak some pieces in your bra to cool off bettâ
bing.
âŚ
âoh, fuck off.â
checking your phone after the notification pierced the peaceful ambiance of the room, you immediately lock it back, infuriated by what you saw.
âagain?â
enzo had a hunch about the source of your sudden rage, and by his short question and your audible huffs of annoyance, he knew he was right.
âis that michael guy still pestering you? didnât you block him?â
âit looks like he made another account. ugh, why doesnât he take the hint?â
you raised your upper half off the couch, leaning on the pads of your palms just for a few seconds, before diving head first between the scattered pillows next to you.
you groaned into them, and enzo could hear your agony even through the plush material.
âyou told him you have a boyfrâ?â
âmultiple times. i even sent a picture of you to convince him.â
you did not have a boyfriend. you have been single for months now, but michael doesnât need to know that. your sweet best friend enzo offered to play boyfriend to scare off the creep, but it seems like even that wasnât enough.
âaaaand?â
âhe knew weâre not together.â
you shouldâve expected the number one stalker to recognize lorenzo from the pictures you have on your account.
âdamn. i am sorry, babe.â
âahh, itâs fine. i will just block him agaââ
bing.
âis that him again?â
enzo reacted more energic this time, jumping from his seat, abandoning his own phone, all to crawl towards your part of the couch. to see for himself what that weirdo does in your dms.
âwait, let me checâ oh my god, ewwwwwwwwwwww.â
if last time you dropped your phone on the couch, now you straight up threw it away from you. you shriek into a ball, clutching one of the pillows close to your chest and hiding in it. the heat no longer mattered as you were now dominated by disgust, captured by the need to be hidden.
âwhat? what?â
lorenzo panicked, eyes almost flaring out of his sockets at your unusual reaction. you were so affected by whatever you saw on your phone, you were almost shaking.
âthat bastard sent me a dick pic. it looked like a bald rat, i feel like puking.â
enzo stilled for a second.
then he blinked.
âa bald rat?â
âyes.â you wailed, face still buried in the pillow. âa naked mole rat. pink and sickly and shiny. iâm traumatized.â
he snorted at your description. then choked on it trying to suppress his laugh, realizing it is not an appropriate reaction. âiâm sorry, iâm not laughing at you, babe, itâs justâ god, thatâs disgusting.â he reached for your shoulder carefully, hand warm and grounding as he gave you a gentle stroke.
âyou okay?â
âno.â you mumbled pathetically, burying your face deeper into the softness. âi was just trying to exist. and now iâve seen that. i need to bleach my brain. i need to send something back to scar him for life.â
enzo hummed, rubbing lazy circles into your shoulder. âlike a revenge dick pic?â
âyeah. butâŚâ you peeked at him from your pillow, lips pouting. âi donât have a dick.â
he blinked again. and then his lips curled. slowly.
âso use mine.â
you raised your head so fast you nearly knocked foreheads with lorenzo. in that moment you realized just how close he was to you.
how close and naked he was.
âenzoââ
âwhat?â he grinned, boyish and infuriatingly calm, as if he hadnât just offered to donate his cock for the cause. âhe values dicks so much, iâll give him one. free of charge. beautifully lit. no filters. let him compare.â
you gaped at him, blood boiling beneath your skin with every word of his, flushing your face with embarrassment.
he was just messing with you, right?
âyouâre not serious.â
enzo moved his body closer, until your bare knees touched, and his palms spread over your naked thighs, keeping you still on the couch. with such proposals on his lips, enzo had a feeling youâd run away from him.
so he didnât give you the opportunity at all.
âiâm dead serious. let me help you. he sends you a shitty unsolicited dick? you send back mine. i guarantee heâll never message you again.â
you choked on a nervous laugh, trying to calm down your nerves and not read too much into it. lorenzo had no ulterior motives with such a suggestion, so why was your mind fostering unholy thoughts all of a sudden?
the nakedness of your two bodies didnât help, especially now with his skin touching yours. his hands were firmly planted on your thighs, resting mainly on the top â only his fingers, fidgety and restless, tapped against your inner section.
making your head spin and forcing your legs to close up.
âyouâre insane.â you whispered back at him, averting your gaze from his piercing ones and opting to stare at your abandoned phone.
he squeezed your thighs, fingers digging in the fat of your legs â bringing your eyes back on his.
âand youâre suffering. babe, come on. you know iâd do anything for you.â
your mouth went dry, spit refusing to further pool in. yet something else pooled... in your underwear.
his voice dropped just a little lower, his face dragging just a tad closer to your ear.
âi donât want anyone making you feel unsafe. or disgusted. especially not some pathetic little creep who thinks his dick deserves attention.â
you swallowed, keeping focus on his gorgeous face; that mischievous glint in his eyes, the devious curl on his wet lips. he was still smiling, but there was something else in his expression now â sharp. protective. hungry.
and when you didnât answer, enzo gently tugged you closer by your thighs, tilting his head.
âunless youâre too shy to see it?â
your lips parted, words rushing to get out in a short protest. âiâm not.â
âyou sure?â he whispered, thumbs rubbing up your inner thigh now, almost brushing the edge of your panties. âbecause you can. if you want. iâll even let you take the picture. show him what a real one looks like.â
your thighs squeezed together, trapping his digits briefly in between. your skin was warm, warmer than before, and where his hands stood â the patches burnt with unspoken desire. the heat licked up your spine too, spreading arousal all over your body like a raging fire.
you stared at him.
youâd known lorenzo your whole life.
and yet⌠right now, you couldnât stop picturing what he would look like bare.
hard.
just for you.
your voice came out small, just a flimsy string of sanity keeping you away from his plan. âhe wonât believe itâs real.â
enzo shrugged, eyes dark, whispering yet another possibility. âthen weâll take another. with your hand on it this time.â
âenzo!â you gasped, outraged by his proposition, going as far as pushing the pillow into his face.
but he only grinned wider, accepting your attacks with open arms and letting the pillow crash into his face. he immediately removed it, throwing it out of the way, and took back his position next to your blushing face.
âsay the word, babe. iâll even get it hard for you.â
you swallowed again.
you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your stomach, in the places where his thumbs were still drawing lazy little circles against your inner thighs.
the summer heat had nothing on the burn spreading beneath your skin now. and the look on his face â steady, teasing, inviting â wasn't helping.
âokay.â you murmured, almost like you were afraid to break the moment, finally giving in. âokay⌠let's do it.â
âyeah?â enzoâs brows lifted just a bit â surprised⌠or thrilled.
you nodded, lips parted, your tongue already poking out and wetting your lips.
âbut⌠only if you get hard first. iâm not sending him a softie.â
enzo barked out a laugh, loud and wicked. âgod, youâre fucking perfect.â
his hands slid from your thighs to his lap, lazily adjusting himself in his boxers. he was already half-hard, just from the idea of you seeing him. he didnât even try to hide the way his cock twitched when you looked down, just once, then looked away quickly like you hadnât meant to.
âcâmere.â he said, voice a little rougher now. âcloser. talk to me.â
âtalk to you?â
he hummed, stroking himself through the thin cotton, tentatively gripping his cock with his long fingers. he didnât take it out yet â afraid to scare you â but you could still see the shape of him swelling beneath the fabric, thick and eager.
âyeah. want you to talk me through it.â
âenzoâŚâ his name bloomed on your tongue with a whiny tinge, barely escaping from between your lips.
but he heard it clearly. he let out a low, throaty groan as a result, his head slightly lolling back on the couch.
âfuck. say it again.â
âwhat?â
âmy name. with that voiceâŚâ he breathed, slowly dragging his palm up and down the length of his cock, the fabric now visibly wet at the tip, clinging to his mushroomy tip.
âgoddamn, babe. didnât know you could sound like that when you say it.â
you swallowed hard, thighs pressing together, your own panties now marked by dripping need. he looked beautiful like this â messy hair damp from sweat, chest rising and falling with each breath, mouth parted as he stared at you like he could eat you alive.
âenzo.â you whispered, unsure if you were trying to calm him down or make it worse. âyouâre⌠getting really hard.â
âbecause of you.â he groaned again, accentuating it with a harsher tug on his cock. âyour voice. your fucking voice, babe â talk to me.â
your cheeks flamed, but something in you cracked open; some hungry, curious part of you that liked the way his hips bucked into his hand at the mere sounds of your voice. liked the way his lashes fluttered, how his eyes rolled back.
liked how needy he looked.
âyouâre doing so good.â you whispered seductively, barely able to believe the words were coming from your own mouth. âlook at youâŚâ
enzo whined, pressing harder against his boxers. fuck, this was really happening!
âlook at how hard you are.â you said, braver now, watching his cock twitch under his touch. âshit⌠all for me?â
âyes, yes, fuck, yesââ he was panting now, jerking himself faster, his head tipped back completely, throat taut. âkeep going, pleaseâ your voice, iâ fuck, iâve never gotten this hard this fastââ
âyouâre gonna make a mess in your boxersâŚâ you tutted, more to yourself, pressing your thighs together â now shamelessly.
âyou want me to help? want me to pull them down and stroke you for real?â
enzo whimpered, and this time he shuddered â hips lifting, breath stuttering, a thick wet patch forming all over his cock.
âbabeââ he gasped, looking at you like youâd just offered him the most amazing offer in the world. âplease. please touch me.â
your palm was hot against his abs before he even finished the sentence.
and when your fingers slid under the waistband of his boxers â slow, sweet, teasing â lorenzoâs breath caught in his throat like youâd just sucked the life out of him.
his cock sprang free, flushed and twitching, curved thick and dripping precum towards his belly.
and fuck, he really was big. more than you imagined. heavy and sticky in your hand when you finally curled your fingers around him.
âfuck, enzo.â you whispered.
he groaned, head tilting to the side to see your hand work around him.
âsay that again.â he rasped, eyes glued to your fingers wrapping around his shaft, getting all wet and nasty with his arousal. âsay my name. say anything. just⌠donât stop.â
you leaned in closer, breath feathering over his cock as you began to stroke him close to your face â slow, gentle pulls from base to tip, gathering the leaking precum with your thumb and swirling it over the flushed tip. he jerked at the touch, hips bucking, one hand gripping the couch for dear life.
âyouâre so sensitiveâŚâ you murmured, tilting your head, studying him. âdoes it feel good, enzo?â
âyesâ fuck, yes. your handsâ god, your hands are so soft!â
you smiled, slow and sly. your other hand joined in, cupping his balls, stroking in rhythm with the other, until he was panting again, hips faltering, lashes fluttering with every twist of your wrist.
âyouâre so pretty like this.â you breathed, voice all syrup and sugar, so close to his cock, yet so far away. âflushed and messy. moaning just from my hands.â
enzo bit his lip, the sound that escaped him something halfway between a sob and a growl.
âfuck, keep goingâ donât stopâ say moreââ
you leaned in, lips brushing the muscles of his abdomen, voice like velvet.
âyou gonna cum for me, babe? just from my voice and my hands? poor thing, youâre so pent upâŚâ
âholy shitââ
his stomach jumped, his thighs trembled, and his hand suddenly darted for your phone, unlocking it with shaking fingers.
âwhat are you doing?â you asked, still stroking him, but slower now, more curious than anything.
âpicture.â he panted. âfuckâ we need to send that creep a real dick pic. one heâll never forget.â
oh, thatâs right. you were supposed to get him hard for a pictureâŚ
âyouâre gonna send him this?â you laughed, light and breathless, watching as he snapped a photo of your delicate hand wrapped around his flushed cock. âyouâre actually so cruel.â
that michael guy will fucking die.
âyouâre the one stroking me like this.â he said with a grin, snapping another picture from a lower angle, your other hand on his balls now visible. âand your voiceâ fuck, your voice is even hotter than your hand.â
you squeezed him, just to make him shut up and focus on you.
he gasped at your ministration, nearly dropping the phone on you.
âenzo.â you whispered against his ear, your thumb brushing under the head. âfocus on me, babe. cum for me.â
he did.
with a strangled moan and a whimper of your name, he spilled all over your hand and his stomach, cock twitching in your grip. he finally released the phone somewhere beside him, both hands flying to your hand as he rode it out, chanting your name like a prayer.
âfuck. fuck, babeââ he panted, pulling you in closer, resting his head on your shoulder, still shaking a little. âyouâre unreal.â
before either of you could say a word, the notification pinged.
michael had already replied.
lol thatâs a stock image :)
enzo stared at the message. blinked. stared again.
and then, very softly, almost in disbelief. âstock image?â
you snorted, and then started to laugh â loud and breathless, your forehead falling against his shoulder as your dirty fingers absently toyed with his still-softening cock, now wet and twitching in your palm.
âenzo.â you gasped between laughs. âhe thinks⌠he thinks that is a stock image?â
âmy dick is not a stock image.â he mumbled, borderline offended, his voice cracking with the way you were still feather-dancing across him. âwhat stock photo site has your hand in it?â
you grinned, turning your head just enough to catch the pink flush blooming on his cheeks.
âyou want to prove it to him?â you asked, wickedly sweet, now concocting a plan of your own.
ââŚhow?â enzo glanced at you, heart in his throat, his whole body buzzing with expectation.
you leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. âfuck me. right now. raw. and take a video.â
he froze.
and thenâ
âwâwhat?â
âyou heard me.â you whispered. âhe doesnât think youâre real? letâs give him something real.â
enzoâs cock twitched again in your hand â just barely â but enough to signal he was hardening again.
âplease.â you breathed, nosing at his neck, voice breaking into something soft and whiny. exactly how he likes it. âfuck me, enzo. i need it. want you so badââ
your voice cracked with desperation, half faux, half real.
âneed you inside me. need you to fill me up. make me yours.â
enzo whimpered, eyes rolling back once more, the mere image of you impaled on his cock making his pulse spike. he was still sensitive, still dazed, but you begging like that?
he grabbed your waist, almost clumsily, and guided you into his lap â your soaked panties rubbing against his cock, already stiff beneath you.
âyou donât know what youâre asking for.â he whispered, trembling. âi wonât be able to stop.â
you cupped his face, squishing his cheeks together and making his lips into a pout. barely touching them, you whispered one final request.
âgood. i donât want you to.â
he didnât waste another second.
his hands gripped your hips like he owned them â like he always had â and with one swift motion, he pulled your soaked panties aside, guiding his thick cock to your dripping slit. the blunt head bumped your folds, sticky and aching, and your body clenched before he even pushed in.
âhold the phone.â you whispered, breathless, reaching for it where heâd dropped it on the cushion. you tilted it up just as you sank onto him, but he couldnât comply.
lorenzo groaned, deep and broken. his head slammed back against the couch and his hands tightened, digging into your waist as you slid down his cock â inch by thick inch â stretching, aching.
taking him raw.
âfuck. babe.â his voice cracked. âyou feel insane. so fucking wet. youâre dripping down my ballsâ fuckââ
you whimpered, clutching his shoulders for balance, camera still rolling in your other hand. the way he filled you up was nothing short of divine â so thick and deep. he curved just right, making your pussy clench around him like it was made for him.
you bounced once.
enzo yelled.
hand flew to your ass, spreading you wider, keeping you flush against him as you began to ride â sloppy, wet, desperate. his cock dragged along your walls perfectly, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the space between you, your breaths quick and needy.
the slight flash of the phone still capturing everything.
âyâyouâre gonnaââ he whined, eyes fluttering as he stared between your bodies. âgod, iâm gonna lose my fucking mind.â
you laughed softly against his neck, still bouncing, nails digging into his shoulders as you went deeper and deeper with every move. âyeah? youâve been imagining this?â
âevery night.â he admitted, voice breaking. âevery fucking night, since we were teenagers.â
you moaned his name, pleased with his answer, rocking your hips faster. and enzo shuddered, grabbing the base of his cock as you rode him, watching it disappear again and again into your soaked cunt.
âyou want proof?â you panted, angling the camera down even more, catching the perfect image of your pussy fluttering around enzoâs cock. for the creep in your dms. âtell him, babe. tell him this is real.â
lorenzo looked at the phone â flushed, panting, eyes nearly wild, watching himself disappear in your greedy tight hole on film.
it was so hot, shitâ
âthis is my girl. my fucking pussy. you wish you had her voice in your ear while you came. but guess what?â
he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you down until your forehead flushed against his, hips snapping up hardâ
âsheâs riding me.â
you moaned when he thrust up again â rough, relentless, so deep you could barely catch your breath. the head of his cock dragged right over that spot that made your thighs shake, your body clenching around him in helpless pulses.
enzo grunted, hips stuttering, the wet slap of your bodies echoing through the apartment.
âyou hear that?â he breathed, voice hoarse with awe, sweat beading along his temple as he watched you bounce. âfuck, itâs so loud â thatâs your pussy, babe. sucking me in.â
âenzoâŚâ you whimpered, nails clawing at his shoulder. âyouâre so deepâ too goodââ
he angled his hips just right, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix, and your body jerked. your walls clamping down so tight that his eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped back again.
âyouâre close, huh?â he rasped. âfeels like youâre about to fucking milk me.â
you nodded, frantic, desperate.
âtell me what you want.â he panted, breath shallow, also close to climax. âtell me how you want it.â
your voice broke. you were already trembling.
âinside.â you gasped, not even ashamed now. âplease, enzoâ want you to cum in me. fill me up. make it messy.â
he growled like an animal, finally catching his prey.
âfuckâ fuck, babeâ he slammed up into you so hard you saw stars, one hand clutching at your ass, the other gripping your hip so tight it would bruise. âsay that again. say it.â
you pulled the phone back up, aiming the camera down at where you were connected once more â where his cock was glistening, coated in you, buried all the way to the hilt.
âi want your cum.â you whispered close to your phone, with eyes locked on his own blown-out orbs. âdeep inside me. i want you to ruin me, enzo.â
his hips jerked. a broken moan punched out of him.
âyouâre soâ fuck, youâre gonna make meââ
âdo it.â you moaned, hand scratching down his chest and leaving marks all over his skin. âfill me up, babe. i want it all.â
he came with a cry â full-body shudder, cock twitching inside you as he emptied himself in thick, hot spurts. you felt the heat of it coat your insides, your cunt fluttering around him in aftershock. he clung to you like heâd fall apart if he didnât, hips still rutting weakly, desperate to stay inside you, to push it all in deeper.
you collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, his cock still sheathed inside you â warm and twitching and still dripping cum.
the camera caught it all.
his fingers found the curve of your thighs, spreading you slightly, just enough to let the phone capture your folds stretched wide around him, cum already beginning to leak.
âdamn right.â he muttered, flushed and breathless, voice hoarse with pride. âreal enough for you now, michael?â
michael wasnât gonna sleep tonight.
Šdearmisshoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.
đźđžđśđśđŞđťđ : you torture stiles, he finds a way to get you back.
đ/đ : im a real freak so beware before you read guys! also, please wear condoms and like practice safe sex! i don't have a lot of experience with it but i know that you should use contraception and have safe partners. ALSO consent is hot and if your sexual partner is saying no, please stop. make sure they are okay and if they are, resume and if they are not, please dont force yourself onto them. be a good person.
đđŞđťđˇđ˛đˇđ°đź : no use of y/n, established relationship, porn no plot, heavy making out, blowjobs, dacryphilia (crying), grinding, dry humping (#bringbackdryhumping), overstimulation, edging, stiles whimpers, cum eating, stiles also gets you back, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, creampie, mild breeding kink its barely even there, i told y'all i was a freak.
"soooooo, your house?"
"no stiles, cmon! we always go to mine, i wanna hang out in your room for once!"
"but baby, i love your room! it's so cute, all your pictures and little stuffed animals.."
you grumble and cross your arms, muttering fine and not even bothering to look at stiles, already knowing he's grinning at you.
"i can't believe i let you convince me to ditch class in the first place."
"i can be very convincing, especially when making out is involved."
"excuse you, mieczyslaw, but i will not be making out with you."
"uh huh, sure."
the woods, thick with trees and overgrown ivy, fly past your window, your eyes following the line where the branches meet the sky. it's heavy with clouds, the rain about to start pouring down, you can tell. perfect weather.
you turn your body back to look at stiles, his eyes set on the long stretch of road in front of you. his gaze flickers to you for a moment, and realizes you're staring and he smiles.
"what?"
"just lookin at you."
stiles shyly ducks his head, before letting his hand rest casually on your thigh.
you hear the first raindrop on the roof of the car, the sound letting itself echo for a few seconds. no other raindrops follow for the next minute or two, the quiet before the storm.
then, two more patters. and then ten. and suddenly, no more pauses between the sounds, as the rain starts to fall without holding back. stiles switches on the window wipers and takes his hand off your leg, and onto the steering wheel.
pulling into your driveway a few minutes later, stiles parks under the woodshed, currently empty. he passes you his sweater from the back seat and you both bolt to the door. the rain is fast and heavy, almost slowing down your movements. when you finally reach shelter, your clothes are heavy and wet from running through the field of raindrops.
stiles laughs at your drenched state, shaking his head to dry out his hair. you squeal and bring your hands to cover your face from the assault of water.
"stiles! you're not a dog."
"oh yeah? listen to me woof."
you scoff and rummage through your bag for keys, needing a change of clothes and a warm blanket now.
a sudden gust of wind blows through your porch, making your hair swish all around your face. as you shiver and keep searching for keys, you realize they're still in stiles' car. you yell out over the loud wind,
"stiles! keys are in your car, i'll go get them."
but before you can take a step toward the mini hurricane in your driveway, stiles bolts out through the rain. he reaches the car so much faster than you could have and runs back within thirty seconds, keys in hand.
"shit! i almost drowned!", stiles yells out to you as he runs back.
he jumps up the steps and practically crashes the door open, grabbing your arm and yanking you in, before slamming it shut. it's suddenly so incredibly quiet, the wind a forgotten noise. the only thing you and stiles can hear is the distant howling and your heavy breaths, standing next to each other. you slowly look up at stiles, wet and cold, your body awkwardly standing so you don't drip all over the floor.
"you okay?"
stiles' immediate concern makes your heart flip. nodding and taking a deep breath, you look him over, looking not much better than you.
"are you? you sprinted into that storm!"
stiles nods quietly and moves closer, brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face. he laughs a little, making you pout.
"it's not funny."
"...you're right it's not."
leaning down, stiles connects your mouths, his warm lips feeling amazing against yours. you disconnect with a pop, and look up at stiles.
after you dry your hair off and get into dry clothes, you feel like a whole new person. the rain is still falling outside and there's almost no light in your room, apart from the candle you lit when you entered.
stiles is sprawled out on your bed, wearing new clothes too, from your drawer of spares for him. a shirt that he has grown out of, tight in all the right places and a plaid pair of boxer shorts. he looks delectable.
you sigh and move over to your bed, plopping down next to him and letting your legs tangle with one of his. stiles' hand comes around to your head, scratching at your scalp and letting it rest in your hair. you cuddle closer and let the warmth radiating off him become a blanket.
"feeling better?"
"much."
stiles makes a low noise and goes down to kiss your head. you roll over to press your body to his side, letting your hand rest on his chest. you slowly rub your hand in circles, the fabric between your hand and his skin moving the slightest bit. stiles' breathing hiccups, and then starts to speed up, very discreetly. so discreetly that you wouldn't have noticed if your hand wasn't on his chest.
you scratch at his torso, relishing the quiet whines stiles lets out. slowly, your hand makes its way down to his abdomen, lifting up the shirt to whisper your fingers over the smooth skin there.
"baby.... what are you doing?"
"do you want me to stop?"
a long silence fills the air between you two. you look up at stiles, your faces so close and yet so far away. you watch his eyes flicker across every feature on your face before his breath stutters at your hand dipping lower and rubbing against his hip bone. stiles shakes his head and you lean upwards to ghost your lips over his and take his bottom lip between your teeth, lightly pulling it away before letting go.
a soft whimper crawls up stiles' throat that makes your hand squeeze against his stomach. his head leans up against your pillows, giving your perfect access to nibble and suck at his neck. you climb onto stiles' lap, feeling his ever quickly growing bulge against your thigh. as you suck and bite at your boyfriend's neck, his hands come up to hold at your hips.
you take a break from making his skin turn red and bloom purple to look down and see stiles' quivering fingers against your body. you start to roll your hips, his erection somehow slipping into place and nestling perfectly between your plush thighs. stiles tightens his grip at your hips, his breathing quickening and making your hands against his chest start moving up and down with his panting.
"h-holy shit, baby- don't stop..."
your lips go back down to kiss under his jaw and at the slope where his neck meets his shoulders, leaving soft pink marks and a shiny residue from your open mouthed kissing.
you pull stiles' head down to make his lips catch yours as his head levels with yours. you hum and lick along the seam of his lips, sneaking inside and making stiles groan. the sensation of his soft warm lips on yours mixed with the push and pull of grinding down onto his dick makes your head spin, and you push him back into the pillow, your lips following him and continuing to sloppily make out with stiles.
he tries to take control back by thrusting his hips up in between your legs but you just push him back down and take in the soft growl stiles lets out, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt to scratch and squeeze at your skin. stiles' chest falters and his breathing starts to speed up, the usual tell tale signs of him when he's about to cum.
you quickly, slow down the pace of your hips, letting your folds grind over him slowly and making stiles feel the heat coming off your pussy. he whips his head up and starts stuttering,
"w-why?- wh-what... why'd you s-stop?!"
you grind down harder and stiles gasps, your eyes meeting his and not leaving. you find a spot that pushes his cock right onto your swollen clit and you whine, pushing and rolling your hips in that spot while making eye contact with stiles. he looks like a predator, and he's looking at you like you're his next meal.
you lean down and brush your lips over his, trying to tease another whimper out of him, but instead, stiles takes a hand out from under your shirt and uses it to pull the back of your neck down, your lips connecting with his heavily and quickly. stiles' lips immediately suction onto yours and you moan, letting your mouth be invaded by him. the hand that remained under your shirt, goes up to grope your breast, stiles' hand massaging the mass and letting his fingers tease the tips.
you find yourself getting lost in the sensation, forgetting what you were trying to accomplish in the first place. all you can think about is how stiles' lips feel moving against yours. how his fingers scrape your nape and make you shiver. you keep a steady rhythm of moving against his crotch, letting stiles chase the pleasure you're giving him. his hips start stuttering up towards your heat and you let him, the hand on your tit moving faster and twisting your nipples.
stiles lets out a filthy sound, one that is immediately swallowed by your own mouth because you're still letting your mouth be dominated by his tongue. stiles thrusts up once, and then twice, and then whimpers and you feel the pressure shoot up in his boxers.
you gasp, stiles' tongue dipping out and licking the edge of your mouth. you keep a steady pace grinding over stiles' very quickly softening crotch. his hand leaves your tit and comes out of your shirt, up to your jaw and he uses it to pull your face gently away from his. stiles looks up at you with awe, his thumb stroking at your skin and his other hand sliding up through your hair to massage your scalp.
you slow down your circles, but you don't stop. stiles' hips are twitching and he lets out a whine, almost like he's in pain but you can feel his boner staying at halfway, not going away entirely.
"i think i just saw god."
"oh yeah? was he hot and sexy and look exactly like your girlfriend?" you giggle, leaning down to kiss stiles slowly, savoring the moment, your bodies moving subtly and slowly against one another.
you lean down so your chest is flush with his and the pressure it puts on your nipples is such a relief you let out a gasp of air. stiles is slack jawed, laying underneath you and letting you use him to feel good. your lips find the abused skin of his neck, ghosting them over the surface and kissing it gently. the look of ecstasy on his face slowly twists into a look of pain, but you can feel his arousal throbbing into yours.
"are you trying to kill me?" stiles manages to choke out.
"sorry baby.. you want to stop?"
you stop moving and stiles lets out a pained moan, shaking his head, the loss of pleasure making his dick twitch.
"n-no please i need it." the pure need and desire in his voice makes your walls clench around nothing. stiles brings his arms around your body to hug you and holds your torso still while your bottom half continues to rub in circles. a pant, mixed with a moan escapes stiles' throat, and you feel his skin vibrate beneath you.
you stop your movement, and then start grinding up and down, your damp underwear creating friction that makes your eyes roll back into your head. stiles starts to kiss all over your face and in-between kisses he lets out little moans of praise,
"you're amazing."
"i can't believe you're mine."
"you've ruined me for anyone else."
"you drive me crazy."
"i love you so much."
until his hips buck up and he lets out a filthy noise. the sticky mess in your pants is suddenly warm, the heat coming from stiles' groin making you whine.
"did you just cum again?"
stiles is staring up at the ceiling, dumbfounded. "yeah... i did."
you laugh, shocked and you kiss his neck. without even realizing, you keep grinding down on stiles until he has to hold you still.
"baby, stop. 'm sensitive."
you smirk and do one last deep circle onto his lap that makes him groan. you climb off him and fix your hair, a mess from when stiles was running his hands over your scalp. you gasp when you look down and see stiles' boxers, a large wet patch on the front and cum basically dripping down his thigh.
''holy shit."
stiles, tired and with little energy, looks down to where you're looking and he drops his head back with embarrassment, covering his red face.
"no way.. no way."
you can't pull your eyes away from his crotch. you are basically drooling at the sight, stiles' stomach fluttering and his boxers sticking to his skin. you need to suck him off. like right now.
"babe.."
stiles acknowledges your words with a little moan. your hand goes to his thigh, resting next to the wet patch in his boxers. you can feel his dick throbbing and pulsing next to your hand.
"what if... i help you clean up?"
your words come out more low and sultry than you intended, making stiles tense again and a little squeak leaves him as you pull his boxers down.
"i can't.. not again.."
you pause, "if that's what you really want, i will stop right here. but i know you baby, and you can take one more."
you dont move an inch until stiles nods and his eyes open to watch you pull his boxers all the way down. his dick is covered in shiny cum and his tip is throbbing red. you run your index finger from the base to the slit, gathering a bead of the thick, hot liquid covering stiles' shaft. you bring the finger to your lips and slowly suck on it, keeping heavy, loaded eye contact with stiles. this makes him thrust his hips up, groaning and moaning until you finally let your hand glide over the silky smooth skin.
starting off slow, you tease him, and let him get all worked up again. your hand pumps with a steady pace until you see stiles' eyes full of tears. he's practically begging you to go faster and let him finish, but you want to see him break.
you move your body down the bed so you can lick up and down his cock. its hot and salty, and the noise that stiles lets out is heavenly. you take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue and sucking softly. stiles moves his hands into your hair again, more gently this time. you start to take him down deeper, hollowing out your cheeks and pumping what you cant hold in your mouth.
stiles is whining and he can't speak anymore but he warns you almost coherently before he finishes so you can move if you want to,
"b...b-baby.. 'm gon-na.." while he simultaneously pulls his fingers tighter around your hair.
but you stay where you are, letting his release fill up your throat, swallowing it all and letting stiles scratch at your scalp. he stutters, slows, and you hear a loud breath being taken from above. when stiles fully stills, you take his dick out of your mouth, getting up to get him new boxers while stiles stares at the ceiling in disbelief. when you walk back over you see stiles' face and the tear streaks running down his cheeks. he looks like he'd been ruined.
you have to admit, seeing him cry was one of the hottest things you'd ever seen, but stiles had reached his limit, so that can be for another time. you help him clean up (for real this time) and put the clean shorts on, before tucking his face into your neck and letting him sleep. you stroke his hair and whisper praise into his ear until you feel the rumbling of his chest against you,
"you did so amazing for me baby."
"i love you more than anything."
"you're perfect."
"shhh just go to sleep, you deserve it."
it'd been a week since stiles and you ditched class and ended up messing around in your bedroom. everything has been normal since then, stiles driving you around wherever you needed to go, you helping stiles with any homework he had. nothing had changed.. but stiles had an overwhelming energy radiating off him all week. an aura that just screamed 'im up to something.'
all came to a climax (pun not intended) on saturday night when you went home with stiles after his lacrosse game. you were planning for a regular game night, stiles falling asleep almost immediately and you staying up watching movies. when you got back to his house, stiles climbs out of the car, and runs around to open your door for you. you giggle when he offers his hand to help you out.
your hands stay locked until you get up to his bedroom, stiles letting go to shut his door. not that it matters, the sheriff is out having drinks with some old buddies from high school. you had the whole house to yourselves. you're left sitting on the edge of stiles' bed, taking your shoes off. stiles comes towards you, leaning down to kiss you. you immediately reciprocate, appreciating the warmth of his lips against yours.
so when stiles starts to push you to lay down on the bed, you follow his lead. your hair halos around your head beneath you, your legs wrapping around stiles' hips. angling your head to the side, you allow stiles to invade your mouth with his tongue, his mouth tasting like mint. his hand slides to the back of your neck, scratching softly, making you sigh.
his other hand slides up your leg and rests it on the connection between your thigh and your hip. you feel his fingers squeezing and creeping closer between your legs. stiles breaks the kiss, a whine leaving you. he smirks and pecks your lips before lowering his head to your chest, his hand coming up beneath your shirt. the fabric slowly creeps up, until stiles grabs the hem and pulls it over your head gently. he runs his hands over your tits, not touching in anyway, just admiring.
stiles slides the straps of your bra down your shoulders, and you arch your back to let him unclasp it and remove it completely. your skin is immediately kissed and caressed by his loving hands. stiles licks over your nipple, bringing it into his mouth and sucking softly. a breathy moan leaves your body, stiles tensing at the sound.
"are you wet?", stiles' hoarse voice startles you. he sounds hungry and deep, like he's lost his voice. you nod and your hand comes up to wrap around his hair. stiles shakes his head and removes his hands from your chest. "use your words baby."
"yes... yes." the words that are spoken don't sound like you. it's like you've become consumed by sex. stiles kisses your chest one more time before using his hands to take your pants off.
every layer of clothing that gets removed, increases the humming you feel in your chest, making you need stiles' touch even more. you're left just in your panties and stiles strokes his fingers over the wet patch in front. he brushes your clit and a desperate whimper comes from you. stiles moves slowly and patiently, for what feels like hours. you can feel him right there, you need him to touch you but no matter what you do, he won't.
"s-stiles.. stop teas-ing me.." your breath catches in your throat and you look down to see him looking up at you, eyes dark and full of desire. your heavy breathing starts to slow, the pace of his touch starting to even out. if stiles wants to tease you, then you can handle that.
suddenly, your underwear is pulled to the side, the cold air hitting your exposed opening. you moan, stiles' fingers slipping over your folds and hole. your head is thrown back when he finally rubs against your clit, the sensation washing over you. stiles drags the panties down your hips and legs until you are fully naked beneath him.
"can i finger you?"
"holy shit, yes."
stiles laughs at your reaction, rubbing middle finger around your entrance, teasing you. he slides it in slowly, your walls squeezing down on him. you feel him exhale and he adds another finger and slowly, he pushes in and out, in and out. stiles brings his thumb to circle your clit, the bud feeling the weight of his digit.
while stiles thrusts his fingers inside of you, your fingers are clinging to his hair. you tug and pull, the pleasure too much to handle. you can feel a sharp knot in your stomach and then stiles curls his fingers and hits your sweet spot. you moan and let go of everything, orgasm crashing over you.
stiles slows down but keeps thrusting, riding you through. when you finally come down, stiles takes his hand away and licks his fingers clean. you stay lying down, chest moving up and down while you try to catch your breath. stiles doesn't give you much time though, his head moving back down.
he starts kissing your thighs and biting on the soft skin there. when you start to feel his hot breath on your slickness, you freeze.
"baby... what are you doing?"
stiles stays silent, still kissing your legs but a lot closer to your entrance now. when he's finally done sucking on your skin, he answers,
"i just wanna taste you.." his voice vibrates and sends shocks straight up your pussy.
your breath wavers, "i.. i cant.."
stiles kisses right next to your heat and licks gently, "yes you can."
then his tongue licks a stripe straight up the center of your flesh. you moan, sensitive and worn. stiles licks big and wide, his tongue teasing at your entrance before retreating. your back lifts off the bed and stiles has to use his hands to hold your body down. he circles his tongue around your clit and your thighs squeeze shut, trying to run away from the pleasure, but stiles holds them open and keeps devouring you.
breathy noises leave you, but nothing else can be heard except stiles eagerly eating your pussy. you let a loud moan come from your throat, encouraging stiles to keep going. the tight ball in your stomach is about to burst so you pull his head away.
stiles looks dazed, ready to dive back in when you whimper, "stiles, baby please. i want you inside me."
no hesitation at all, stiles starts pulling his clothes off. first his shirt and then his shoes and he yanks his pants and boxers off in one go. you would love to laugh at him falling all over himself but you are quite literally, pulsing with need. stiles reaches to the nightstand for a condom but you stop him.
"no, no. i wanna feel you. i want you to fill me up."
stiles screws his eyes shut and breathes heavily before looking down at you again, "are you trying to make me come on the spot?" you laugh breathily and reach up to pull him down. you move up the bed and stiles spreads your legs and settles between them. his cock rests hard and heavy against your thigh.
stiles lines himself up and before pushing in, takes your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. then, his dick pushes you open, stretching you slowly and deliciously. the noise that comes out of your throat is something you've never heard before. stiles keeps pushing until he's buried deep inside you and pulsing. you start circling your hips, begging for movement, but stiles holds you still.
"baby. j-just- stay.. for a 'lil bit.."
you breathe hard and heavy, whimpering and clenching around stiles. the orgasm from before, building again and not stopping. stiles takes a deep inhale and then starts to shift his hips, back and forward. you gasp and clench around him, bringing your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into stiles' back.
his thrusts get harder and deeper, reaching every inch of your insides and stuffing you completely. you let every noise out, not holding back. stiles pants into your shoulder, kissing and licking the skin there. you're so close you can feel it already, clenching around stiles to warn him.
suddenly, like a bus, you come and you can't see. every sense is gone, all you can do is feel. feel stiles, thrusting into your heat. feel stiles' hot cum spilling inside of you and filling you up. you cry out, scratching your nails down stiles' back and holding onto him.
stiles keeps thrusting, even though you've both come. his release spilling out of you, providing a sticky lubricant to keep going. he starts to slow down, pushing in deep and pulling out in unhurried strokes. you use your hands to find stiles' cheeks, lifting his face above you. you lean up to kiss him, latching your lips onto his.
the kiss is messy and dirty. you let him completely take over your mouth, tongues swirling against one another and saliva mixing.
stiles stops thrusting, pulling out of you. you whine at the loss of him inside of you. you clench around nothing and more of his load spills out of you. you pull away from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths. you can feel stiles' hot breath fluttering over your face. you can't even speak, your words have been stolen from your throat.
you bring stiles to lay down next to you, his skin hot. you both catch your breath, laying in his room for minutes, not speaking. you let the silence come over you, cool you down and let your head settle. when you finally turn to face stiles, he's still staring at the ceiling in disbelief.
"stiles, you okay?"
he nods, turning to look you in the eyes. his disbelief turns into pure joy, his body shifting to be closer to you. you let his arm rest over your waist. he smiles and you smile back,
"i love you so much."
"i love you stiles."
A/N: we're gonna pretend this didn't take me five months to write. if this gets like 3 likes im gonna be so mad. i put my heart, soul and blood into this.
You and Stiles Stilinski have been best friends forever. Both secretly crushing on each other, both hopelessly oblivious. But when a bra is found in the back of his car, everything changes.
Warnings: sexual references, making out, fade to black
You jogged across the parking lot, backpack thumping against your spine and hair still damp from the fastest post-gym rinse of your life. Stiles already had the engine running, Scott in the passenger seat digging through a bag of chips like it was a medical necessity.
âHey! There she is,â Stiles said as you opened the door and climbed into the backseat, his grin bright and obnoxiously endearing. âOur favourite sweaty gremlin.â
Scott leaned back to look at you and nodded solemnly. âYeah, you kinda smell.â
You threw your towel at the back of Scottâs head. âYouâre both disgusting and you smell worse.â
Stilesâ laugh filled the Jeep, warm and bubbly and the exact sound you secretly replayed in your head way too often. âImpossible. Iâm a delight. Like fresh laundry.â
âLaundry thatâs been forgotten in the machine for two days,â you shot back as you buckled your seatbelt.
Stiles pressed a hand to his heart, dramatically wounded. âBetrayal. In my own vehicle.â
You smirked and leaned forward between the seats. âYouâre the one who made us do basketball in thirty-degree heat. I blame you for everything.â
âI didnât make you,â he said, eyes flicking to you in the rear-view mirror. âYou volunteered to be on my team. Remember?â
You did. You remembered way too well, because Stiles had smiled at you that stupid soft way he does, and your brain had short-circuited.
Scott snorted. âShe volunteered because she likesââ
You kicked Scottâs seat before he could finish whatever he was going to say. âI volunteered because you canât dribble to save your life.â
Stiles gave an offended gasp. âI can dribble! I dribble fine!â
âYour form is tragic,â you said, pulling your backpack onto your lap and digging through it for your notes.
âNo, itâs innovative,â he argued, glancing back at you again, eyes bright. âYou just donât understand my technique.â
âYou tripped over your own shoe,â Scott said.
âONE TIME!â
You shook your head, smiling as you unzipped your bag. âWhatever helps you sleep at night, Stilinski.â
While the boys bickered, you pulled out your history textbook, except something else came with it. You didnât notice the soft thump as your bra - your pre-gym, expensive, lacy bra - slipped out of the bag and disappeared onto the tragically cluttered floor of the Jeep, blending seamlessly into the sea of loose papers, crumpled receipts, and whatever ecosystem was developing down there.
Stiles glanced back again, eyes flicking to your hands, then your face, then away a little too quickly. He always did that, like he wanted to look at you longer but panicked halfway through. Or maybe that was just your wishful thinking.
âWhatâre you studying?â he asked, trying to sound casual but somehow managing to sound like he had swallowed a whole handful of nerves.
âNothing yet,â you said, flipping the book open. âTrying to pretend Iâm organised.â
Scott laughed. âYou? Organised? Dude, you almost walked out of the girlsâ showers with your shoes still missing.â
You clapped your book shut and leaned forward to smack him. âOkay, that happened once.â
âTwice,â Stiles corrected immediately. âPretty sure I reminded you to go back in for them the second time.â
Your heart did an embarrassing little flip, because of course he remembered that.
âWell,â you said, clearing your throat and sinking back into the seat, âif you two didnât distract me all the timeââ
âYou like when I distract you,â Stiles said before he could stop himself, as though heâd forgotten all his nerves.
Your eyes snapped up. His did too. Scott went absolutely still. Three whole seconds passed.
Then Stiles panicked. âI MEANâŚNOT LIKE THAT, IâI meant like, you know, friendly distraction. Platonic brain stuff!â
Scott covered his face with both hands. âOh my God.â
You pretended your heart wasnât tap-dancing. âItâs okay, Stiles. I know what you meant.â
He relaxed instantly, smiling at you again in the rear-view like he couldnât help it. And you, idiotically, smiled back, completely unaware that your bra was lying at your feet.
The next day, Stiles picked you up after school to study at his place. The Jeep smelled far too strongly of whatever air freshener Stiles had panic-sprayed five minutes before picking you up. He kept tapping the steering wheel as he drove, energy buzzing the way it always did around you.
âYou ready to suffer through chemistry?â he asked.
âNo,â you said flatly. âBut at least I get snacks.â
âThatâs the spirit.â
By the time he pulled into the Stilinski driveway, you were mid-rant about the mitochondria being the most overhyped organelle in existence.
Stiles turned off the engine just as the sheriff stepped out the front door, a thermos in one hand, car keys in the other.
âHey, kids,â the sheriff said, walking toward the Jeep as Stiles leaned his elbow out the open window. âHomework date?â
Your heart skipped. Date?
Stilesâs neck snapped so fast you heard it. âDad, what? NO! NotâŚitâsâŚweâre just studying. Like school. Studying for school. With each other.â
The sheriff blinked. âRight. Thatâs generally what studying is.â
You tried to hide your embarrassed grin behind your hand. Stiles kicked the inside of the door like he could disappear into the chassis.
âYeah,â Stiles said, trying to brush the exchange off with a joke. âWell Iâm trying to educate this one. Itâs going poorly.â
âHey,â you protested, leaning forward to smack his shoulder.
The sheriff opened his mouth again, then something caught his eye. His gaze shifted downward, into the backseat, and then stopped. And then stayed stopped. Right on a bra. A very cute, very lacy bra.
The sheriffâs eyebrows slowly rose. âStiles?â The sheriff pointed with the slow, horrified precision of a man who wished he had looked anywhere else. âSon, is there a reason there is aâŚladyâs undergarmentâŚin the back of your car?â
Your entire bloodstream caught fire.
Stiles whipped around so fast he slapped his hand on the seat. âWHAT?!â His entire soul left his body at the sight before him. âOh myâŚthatâŚOkay, thatâsâŚthatâs notââ
âOh my God!â you whispered, your heart straining.
Stiles stared at it like it was a live grenade. âTHAâTHAT ISâŚTHAT, IâŚTHATâS MINE!â
You choked. The sheriff raised one eyebrow so hard it couldâve lifted off his head. âYours,â he repeated.
âYes!â Stiles said, hysterical. âI, um, I took upâŚcross-dressing. Recently. Very recently. Like, ultra recently.â
You covered your entire face. âStiles.â
âThe, uh, the lace helps myâŚself expression?â Stiles added weakly.
The sheriff looked at the bra. Then at Stiles. Then back at the bra. He was absolutely not buying it, but he was a father, and fathers sometimes chose peace over truth. Then, very slowly, he nodded with very fatherly resignation. âWell. IâŚguessâŚcongratulations.â
Stiles looked physically ill. âThanks, Dad.â
âSure,â the sheriff said, and with the expression of a man deciding he absolutely did not want any further information, he climbed into his patrol car and drove away.
The silence left behind was suffocating. You didnât breathe until the cruiser turned the corner. Then you exploded.
âYOU COULD HAVE SAID ANYTHING ELSE!â you yelled, leaning back in your seat.
Stiles twisted around. âOH, IâM SORRY, WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO SAY? âHEY DAD, NO, THATâS NOT MINE, I DONâT KNOW WHY THEREâS A SEXY LACE BRAââ
âWhy did you call it sexy?!â you repeated, voice pitching embarrassingly high.
âI MEANâŚIâŚITâSâŚBECAUSE IT IS? I DIDNâTâŚWHATEVER! WHY IS IT HERE?!â
âHOW WOULD I KNOW?!â
âI DONâT KNOW!â
Both of you were flushed, flustered, and yelling over each other until Stiles suddenly froze.
He leaned and reached into the back seat, picked up the bra with two fingers like he expected it to bite him, and stared at it as he dangled it before him.
You groaned into your hands. âThis is humiliating.â
âItâs humiliating for ME!â Stiles argued. âMy dad thinks that IâŚthat I wear lingerie in my free time!â
âI meanâŚit could be worse?â you offered weakly.
âHOW?!â
âOkay, fair,â you admitted. âItâs pretty bad.â
He ran a hand through his hair, chest rising and falling fast. âItâs not even my size!â
That was the wrong thing to say. You turned slowly, glare sharp enough to cut steel. âOh, you checked the size?â
âWhat, NO! I JUST, VISUALLY! I DIDNâT TOUCHâŚI, WAIT, WHY WOULD IT EVEN BE MY SIZE?!â
You jabbed a finger at him. âDonât make this weird!â
âYOU MADE IT WEIRD!â
âIâm not the one who left a bra in my car!â
âWELL I DIDNâT EITHER!â
âThen who did?!â you asked, voice tight. âWhoseâŚwhose bra is that?â
He looked over, startled. âI told you, I donât knowââ
You cut him off immediately, heat rising. âDonât lie to me. Itâs not like thereâs a magical bra fairy that leaves presents for desperate teenage boys. Have you beenâŚhooking up with someone?â Jealousy rose in you fast and searing.
âIâm not hooking up with anyone!â he exclaimed, panicking. âI swear, Iâve never seen this before. I donât know how it got here!â
You folded your arms, glaring. âOh, so there actually is a bra fairy and itâs just magically appeared? You expect me to believe that?â
âIâŚyes! I do! I didnât put it there, and I donât know whose it is! I swear!â
You shook your head, biting back a frustrated sigh. âYou know, I really thought weâre close enough that you would have told me about it if you were seeing someone. Does Scott know?â
He ran both hands through his hair, eyes wide. âNo! Scott doesnât now because there isnât anything TO know! There isnât anyone, and I wouldnât do that. I wouldnât tell Scott and not tell you. And I wouldnât lie to you! Iâm NOT lying to you! IâŚlook, I canât explain how it got here, but I promise, Iâm not lying.â
You opened your mouth to argue, to say something more, but your chest was tight, your stomach twisting. Jealousy and hurt and the fear of losing him to another girl all rolled together in a tight knot.
Stiles looked down at the bra again, hesitant, like it was radioactive. That was when you finally looked at it and recognised the lace. The pattern. The hacked off tag that you had cut because it kept scratching you.
Your bra.
Your lace bra.
âOh my God!â you whispered. Your stomach dropped.
Oh no.
You reached across the backseat, snatched it out of his hands, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into your jacket pocket.
âWhy are you taking it?â Stiles wrinkled his nose, questioning you. Then he noticed the flush on your cheeks and the way you wouldnât meet his eyes and he gasped, putting two and two together. Stiles choked on his own breath. âNo way!! Itâs YOURS?!â
âYes, itâs mine, okay!â You slapped a hand over your burning face. âIt mustâve fallen out of my bag the other day after gym, I didnât notice. Can we PLEASE drop this?â
âYOU WEAR THAT TO SCHOOL?!â
âSTILES.â
âIâM JUST ASKING!â
âDROP. IT.â
He nodded rapidly. âDropped. Dropping. Consider it dropped. Iâm burying it. Six feet underground. No, twelve feet. Iâll buy a concrete mixer.â
You escaped the Jeep as fast as physically possible, desperate for oxygen that didnât contain the memory of your bra being publicly discovered. Stiles scrambled out after you, flustered and blinking and definitely thinking too much.
Upstairs in his room, you tried to pretend nothing had happened. Stiles tried to pretend too, only he failed. Badly.
He sat beside you on the bed, textbook open, except he wasnât reading. He kept sneaking glances at you. Not at your chest. Not anywhere inappropriate. JustâŚat you. Like you were suddenly different. Like you had become something dangerous to his equilibrium.
Every time you turned your head, he snapped his eyes away, cheeks flushing. You highlighted a sentence. He stared. You brushed hair behind your ear. He stared. You crossed your legs. He stared so hard he forgot to breathe.
Finally, you slammed your book closed. âOkay. Seriously. What is going on with you?â
âNothing!â He squeaked, actually squeaked. âNothing. Iâm normal. This is normal. Weâre normal.â
âYouâre acting like youâre afraid to look at me.â
âIâm not afraid,â he insisted, except his voice cracked mid-word.
âThen why wonât you look at me?â
âIâŚIâŚI canât!â
âWhy not?!â
He made a hopeless, frustrated noise and buried his face in his hands. âBecause you were wearing LINGERIE under your SCHOOL CLOTHES and now my brain is BROKEN.â
You felt your heart flip, twist, and immediately panic. âIâm going home.â
âWhat?! No, no, wait!â
You shoved your books into your bag and stood up. Stiles stumbled after you, knocking into the desk and tripping on a hoodie on the floor.
âI didnât mean it! I mean, I did, but I didnâtâŚIâm notâŚI justâŚâ
But you were already heading down the stairs, face hot, pulse racing.
âHey, wait! Please!â he called weakly from the hallway.
You didnât stop. You couldnât. You needed air, and space, and distance from him and his stupid, flustered face and the way your stupid heart reacted to it.
Stiles stood at the top of the stairs, watching you leave, looking lost and guilty and absolutely overwhelmed. He was still holding the image of your lace bra in his mind like it was going to haunt him forever.
Stiles had avoided eye contact, stuttered through every conversation, bumped into three garbage bins, and once walked directly into a closed classroom door because you said âhiâ too close to his ear.
You tried giving him space. You tried sitting further away in class. You tried pretending none of this bothered you. But it did. It bothered the life out of you, because you were losing your best friend.
So when you found him lingering by your locker between periods, fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, pretending not to be waiting for youâŚyou snapped.
You grabbed his wrist. âCome with me.â
Stiles made a small confused noise. âWhere? Why? Am I in trouble? I feel like Iâm in trouble.â
You pulled him through the hallway before he could finish spiraling, yanked open the door to the unused girlsâ locker room, checked it was empty, and shoved him inside.
He almost tripped over his own feet. âWhat? What is happening?â
You shut the door behind you and crossed your arms. âWhy are you being so weird?â
Stiles froze, eyes widening. âIâŚIâm not! I mean, maybe a little, but itâs not my fault!â
âWhose fault is it then?â you demanded.
âYours!â
âMy fault?!â
He ran both hands through his hair, pacing like he was practicing for a panic attack competition. âYes! You canât just wear things like that and then expect me toâŚto function likeâŚlike a normal human being!â
You blinked. âYouâre still thinking about the bra.â
His face went bright red. âI, no? I mean, yes? I mean, Iâm trying not to but my brain keeps, like, throwing it at me like a pop-up ad I canât close.â
âSo youâre avoiding me because youâre imagining things?â
He groaned loudly. âYES! I mean NO! I mean, Iâm avoiding you because I CANâT STOP imagining things and if I could stop imagining things then maybe I could stop being a total freak around youâ
You stared at him. You were a mix of annoyed, and frustrated, and embarrassed. Then suddenly, you were oddly calm.
âSo if you stop imagining it,â you said slowly, âyouâll go back to normal?â
He nodded too fast. âYes. Absolutely. Immediately. God, please.â
You exhaled. âOkay then.â
Before you could think about it and before you could talk yourself out of it, you reached down, grabbed the hem of your shirt, and pulled it over your head.
Stiles made a sound you had never heard from another human being before. A strangled, squeaked, half-swallowed gasp.
You stood there for three seconds - just three - another lacy bra. A different color, different pattern, but the same type that he had considered âsexyâ.
His eyes went huge. His mouth dropped open. His entire body locked like someone had unplugged his brain from his limbs. You tugged your shirt back on just as fast, heat flooding your face.
âThere,â you said, trying for calm and landing somewhere closer to breathless. âNow youâve seen it. No imagination required. Can you go back to normal now?â
Stiles opened and closed his mouth. Opened it again. Closed it. He looked like someone had thrown a grenade into his neural pathways.
You didnât wait for him to finish rebooting. Instead you walked out. Not calmly and not gracefully either. You nearly tripped over the doorframe, bolted into the hallway, and speed-walked until your legs hurt. Then you spotted Allison and Lydia.
âAllison, Lydia, help!â you gasped, grabbing both their arms like you needed physical support to remain alive. âI did something. I did something so stupid. So incredibly stupid.â
They exchanged a look and Lydia arched an eyebrow. âDefine stupid.â
âI showed Stiles my bra.â
Both girls froze and Allisonâs eyes widened. âWait, like, on purpose?â
Your face burst into flames. âYes! No? I mean, YES but NO but YES because I panicked and he was being weird and then I was being weird and then I was trying to un-weird him but then I weirded everything moreâŚâ
Lydiaâs mouth curved into a slow, delighted smile. âOh, honey.â
âWhat does âoh, honeyâ mean?!â you squeaked.
âIt means,â Lydia said, looping her arm through yours, âyou didnât ruin anything.â
âNot even close,â Allison added, grabbing your other arm. âIn factâŚyou did amazing.â
âWhat? How?!â
Lydia smirked. âTrust me. Stiles is currently in that locker room questioning every decision heâs ever made, including being born. Thatâs good.â
âThatâsâŚgood?â you repeated weakly.
âVery good,â Allison said, squeezing your hand. âNow just wait.â
âWait for what?â
Lydia grinned. âFor him to finally stop being oblivious.â
Stiles did not simply walk out of the locker room. He escaped it. He burst through the doors like he had been held hostage by his own hormones, one hand clutching his chest, the other grabbing the nearest wall for support as he staggered into the hallway.
âOkay, okay, okayâŚNOPE! Nope, nope, that justâŚthatâŚthat happened,â he muttered to himself. âIâm dead. Iâm so dead. My heart is actuallyâŚOh God! Did it stop? Is it beating? Is that what a heart attack feels like?â
âDude?â
Stiles jumped ten feet in the air.
Scott stood beside him, holding a water bottle and looking extremely concerned. âAre you okay? You look like you saw a ghost. Or like a ghost saw you naked.â
Stiles grabbed Scottâs shoulders with both hands. âSCOTT.â
Scott blinked. âYes. Thatâs me.â
âWe need to talk.â
âOkayâŚâ
âIn private.â
Scott glanced around the empty hallway. âWe are in private.â
âMORE private.â
Scott sighed and let himself be dragged into the boysâ bathroom. Stiles checked every stall like he was preparing for a hostage negotiation. Then he turned to Scott with wild eyes.
âScott,â he whispered. âShe stripped.â
Scottâs eyebrows shot up. âWhat?! Who? When? Are you okay?â
âNO! YES! NO! I mean, she didnât, like, strip strip. She justâŚâ Stiles slapped his own forehead. âOh my God, Iâm so stupid.â
Scott waited, patient in the same resigned way someone waits for a pot to stop boiling over once turning the heat down. In other words, he looks at the mess that was his best friends, sizzling all over the place.
âOkay,â Stiles said, inhaling deeply. âSo she pulled me into the girlsâ locker room and confronted me about being weird and asked why I kept imagining her in that braââ
âBroâŚâ Scott choked.
ââand I said if I could stop imagining it, Iâd go back to normal, so then she took her shirt off.â
Scottâs water bottle hit the floor. âShe WHAT?â
Stiles waved his arms like an inflatable tube man having a crisis. âI KNOW!! I KNOW!! She just, did it! She was like âwill this reset your brain?â and I was like âNO?? ITâS MAKING IT WORSE???â except I didnât SAY that, because my mouth forgot how to be a mouth!â
Scott stared at him like he was diagnosing an illness. âDude,â Scott said slowly, âshe likes you.â
Stiles froze. Glitched. Rebooted. Stiles.exe has stopped working.
âWhat? No. Noooo.â He laughed. A little too loudly. âNo, see, thatâsâŚ.no. People donât just do that because they like you. Thatâs notâŚthatâs not a thing.â
Scott gave him a look. The classic âStiles, pleaseâ look. âBe so for real right now,â Scott said.
âI AM being so for real!â Stiles insisted, slapping his chest. âThis is my realest! Nothing is realer!â
Scott put his hands on Stilesâ shoulders gently. âStiles. I know sheâs into you.â
âYou thinkâ?â
âI know.â
âHow can you know?!â
Scott raised an eyebrow. âStiles,â he said, deadpan. âIâm a werewolf. I can smell it.â
Stiles stopped breathing. Scott continued casually, like he was discussing the weather. âShe was into you during gym the other day. She was into you in the hallway this morning. And she was DEFINITELY into you a few minutes ago when she pulled you into the locker room. Dude, when sheâs around you, she smells likeââ
âSTOP,â Stiles yelped, slapping a hand over Scottâs mouth. âStop talking about smells like that. My brain can only handle one crisis at a time!â
Scott gently removed Stilesâ hand. âIâm just saying. Itâs obvious.â
âNo it isnât.â
âIt really is.â
âNo itâŚSheâŚNo!â Stiles rubbed both hands over his face. âSheâs just, being nice, or weird. Or she thinks sheâs helping, or something.â
âStiles.â Scottâs voice softened. âShe took her shirt off for you.â
Stiles choked on absolutely nothing. âSHE WAS DEMONSTRATING SOMETHING!â
âUh-huh.â
âIt was a POINT.â
âUh-huh.â
âIt was SCIENCE.â
âIâd hate to see Harris walk into class in a lace bra âfor scienceâ.â Scott just stared at him, dead-eyed. âYouâre an idiot.â
âI KNOW,â Stiles cried, sliding dramatically down the wall. âI KNOW I AM.â
Scott patted his shoulder. âAt least youâre self-aware.â
âSheâs going to avoid me forever,â Stiles moaned. âIâve ruined everything. Iâll never recover. Iâll live in the woods.â
Scott nodded sympathetically. âOkay, so new plan.â
Stiles peeked up. âThereâs a plan?â
âYeah. Step one, breathe.â
Stiles inhaled like he was learning how for the first time.
âStep two,â Scott said, âyou need to talk to her.â
Stiles shook his head violently. âNope. No. I cannot. I physically cannot. The last time she looked at me I forgot how to blink. Sheâs going to think Iâm a creep.â
âShe wonât.â
âSheâs going to think Iâm obsessed with her underwear.â
ââŚwell,â Scott admitted, âyou did kind of just have a moment about the lace.â
âTHIS IS NOT HELPING, SCOTT!â
Scott sighed, kneeling in front of him. âShe likes you. I know she likes you. You just have to actually talk to her instead of melting every time she breathes.â
Stiles groaned into his hands. âIâm so screwed.â
âYeah,â Scott agreed cheerfully. âBut if you talk to her, you could be getting screwed in a good way.â
You were already annoyed by the time Stiles pulled the Jeep out of the school parking lot. He was gripping the wheel too tight, tapping out nervous rhythms with his thumbs, flicking glances at you and then away like you were a solar eclipse. Like looking too long might blind him. And after three days of this weird, jittery, avoidant behavior, youâd had enough.
âSoâŚâ you said, arms crossed, staring pointedly at him. âAre you going to tell me why youâre still being weird?â
Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin. âWeird? Wh-whoâs weird? No oneâs weird. Iâm the least weird. Iâm like, the gold standard of normal.â
You stared. He kept talking, which was always a bad sign.
âLike, NASA could use me to calibrate their normal meters, thatâs howââ
âStiles.â
He snapped his mouth shut. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
You huffed. âI literally showed you what it looked like so youâd stop imagining it. That was the deal. You stop acting weird. We go back to normal.â
He made a strangled noise. âA-and I appreciate that!â His voice cracked so hard it sounded like heâd swallowed a whole xylophone. âReally, I do. That wasâŚa lot. A whole lot. Like, wow. A lot.â
You saw the dazed look on his face and his wide eyes, like he was imagining your chest right now. Your cheeks flushed and you promptly drew him back into the real world. âBut?â
âBut,â He dragged a hand down his face. âIt didnât stop me.â
You frowned. ââŚWhat?â
Stiles let his head fall back against the seat with a soft thud, like he was begging the universe for mercy. âIt didnât stop me,â he repeated miserably. âIf anything itâŚit got worse.â
You straightened, suddenly nervous. âWorse how?â
Stiles clenched the wheel again and kept his eyes on the road, like looking at you might kill him where he sat. âNow IâmâŚimagining more.â
A beat passed and in that split second you swore your heart contracted at least ten times.
ââŚMore?â you echoed cautiously.
âMore,â he squeaked.
âStiles,â you said, âyou have to explain what âmoreâ means. Because right now Iâm thinking, like, an alarming range of options.â
He groaned into the steering wheel. He actually dropped his forehead onto it when he stopped at a red light. âIâm having thoughts, okay?â he burst out, hands flailing. âDirty thoughts. About you. AboutâŚdoing stuff with you. And I know itâs bad and I know you didnât mean to do anything and Iâm trying. I swear Iâm trying, but every time I look at you now I justâŚâ He made a helpless, frustrated noise and slumped back into his seat.
Your heart did something strange. Something dumb. Something hopeful. But you kept your voice steady. âYouâre imagining us hooking up?â
Stiles winced. âIâm not proud of it.â
âOh.â
He turned bright red. âLook, Iâm sorry, okay? I know that probably freaks you out or ruins everything or makes you uncomfortable and Iâm trying to stop but itâs like, my brain got stuck and now every quiet moment is just, âyou, but less clothedâ andâŚstuff.â
You cut him off. ââŚWhat if we just tried it?â
âWHAT?â He made a noise no human should ever produce.
âTo get it out of your system.â You reasoned. Yeah, that was why. You totally werenât offering because now you couldnât stop thinking about it.
He blinked at you. Blinked again. Blinked so much it looked like he was trying to restart his entire brain.
You shrugged like your heart wasnât trying to escape your ribcage. âYeah. I mean, itâs obviously driving you insane. And maybe if youâŚI donât know. If you actually see what itâs like, maybe youâll stop obsessing?â
Stiles almost veered off the road. He pulled over abruptly, tires crunching on gravel at the edge of the preserve. The Jeep lurched to a stop. The forest hummed around you.
He twisted in his seat to stare at you fully, eyes wide, stunned, hopeful, terrified. âYouâre serious?â he whispered.
You forced yourself to meet his gaze. âYeah. Iâm serious.â
Silence dragged for a long, charged moment. The air between you tightened, thickening like steam in a sealed chamber. And then he exhaled shakily. âOkay,â he breathed. âOkay. If youâre sure.â
You swallowed. âIâm sure.â
He nodded once and pushed the driverâs seat forward. His hands were shaking. You crawled into the back first, heart pounding louder than the rustling leaves outside. Stiles followed, closing the door behind him with a soft thump that felt final. Like the click of a seatbelt before a roller coaster drops. His knees bumped yours clumsily.
The backseat felt too small for your heartbeat. Stiles settled in front of you, knees awkwardly bracketing yours, breath already unsteady. His hands hovered near your waist before pulling back like he was afraid to touch you without permission.
âYou can touch me,â you whispered.
His hands slid to your hips - warm, unsure, trembling through your shirt. His touch was careful at first, like he was terrified youâd vanish if he held you too tightly. His thumbs pressed lightly against your sides, sending a shiver up your spine.
Youâd been touched before - by accident, in hugs, in roughhousing - but never like this. Never with this heat, this hesitance, this reverence.
Stiles sucked in a breath at the sound you made. âYou okay?â he murmured.
âYeah,â you breathed. âAre you?â
âNo,â he said honestly. âIâm freaking out. In a good way! A terrifyingly good way.â
You laughed softly, but it died when he leaned closer. He didnât kiss you right away. Stiles Stilinski - impulsive, chaotic, impatient Stiles - actually paused an inch from your mouth, eyes flicking between your lips and your eyes like he was memorising you.
âYou sure?â he whispered again, voice cracking.
âStiles,â you murmured, âif you donât kiss me, Iâm going toââ
You never finished the sentence. His mouth crashed into yours, not rough but desperate, like heâd been holding this back for years. His hands tightened on your waist. Your fingers found the back of his neck. He inhaled sharply at the feeling of your nails grazing him.
The kiss deepened, messy and real and Stiles, all soft lips and nervous eagerness and the faint taste of Mint Mojito gum. You could feel the way every part of him responded, like heâd been wound too tight for too long and finally snapped free.
You tugged him closer. He made a sound in his throat that you were pretty sure youâd never forget. His hand slid up your back, slow, hesitant, but bold enough to make your breath catch. He broke the kiss just to press his forehead to yours, panting softly.
âIâm losing my mind right now,â he whispered.
Your lips brushed his when you answered, âGood.â
His laugh was breathless, shaky. He kissed you again. Though it was slower this time, and deeper, and your world narrowed to the warmth of his mouth, the brush of his fingertips, the heat blooming low in your stomach. As you shifted closer, his breath stuttered, and you were close enough now that there was no mistaking how your body affected him.
Something in him gave out then. The last thread of restraint. His hands slid, exploring the curve of your waist, the slope of your back. Not pushing. Not taking. Just touching like heâd dreamed about it and still didnât believe it was real. Your breath mingled. Your legs tangled. His lips traced the line of your jaw. Your fingers hooked into the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer in a silent plea.
âTell me to stop,â he whispered into your skin, voice shaking. âJustâŚjust say it and I will.â
âI donât want you to stop.â
Stiles exhaled like the world had been holding him underwater. The moment tipped. Softness sharpened into heat. His mouth met yours again. This time it was hungrier and needier. Your hands slid under the hem of his shirt. His breath caught. His fingers skimmed up your spine. Your pulse roared in your ears. The air in the Jeep grew warmer, charged enough to vibrate and the rest blurred into heat, breath, hands, and sounds pulled back behind locked lips.
The Jeep was quiet except for the sound of your breathing. Both of you were still trying to catch up, lungs dragging air like youâd just run miles instead ofâŚwhatever that had just been.
You lay half-curled on your side in the cramped backseat, your leg draped over his, his arm resting loose and warm around your waist like he wasnât even conscious of holding you there. Stiles stared at the ceiling of the Jeep with the dazed, blissed-out expression of someone who had just been hit by a truck made entirely of feelings.
Your hair was messy. His shirt was wrinkled. The windows were fogged, and the forest outside hummed quietly, like it was politely pretending it hadnât heard a thing.
After a minute, you let out a soft, breathy laugh. âSoâŚâ you said, voice still a little shaky, âis it out of your system now?â
Stiles turned his head toward you, eyes wide and brown and boyish in the dim light. His hair was sticking up in about six different directions. He looked beautifully wrecked, and then he shook his head slowly, almost apologetically, but with zero hesitation.
âNo,â he said, his voice low, honest, still breathless. âIâŚI donât think itâs ever going to be out of my system.â
Your stomach flipped. He swallowed, eyes darting over your face like he was bracing for impact. âI think maybe the problem isnât the thoughts. I think maybe the problem is that I justâŚlike you.â
You didnât breathe for a second.
ââŚLike me?â you repeated softly. âAs in, like me, like me?â
Stiles nodded, cheeks flushing in a way that made something in your chest tighten. âYeah. Like you like you. Like, âwant to do this again, want to take you out, want to hold your hand in public without Scott heckling usâ kind of like you.â
You stared at him and then you beamed. âI like you too.â
Stiles blinked rapidly, like he needed a full system reboot. âYouâŚwait, what?â
You nudged his leg with yours, laughing. âI like you, Stiles.â
His face split into a grin so bright it made your heart lurch. âOh my God. Okay, okay, um,â He sat up a little, raking a shaking hand through his hair. âRight. So. Next step, dating. Real dating. I should ask you something normal. Something boyfriend-candidate-ish.â
You bit your lip. âSuch as?â
He inhaled sharply, like gathering all the courage heâd ever had. âWill youâŚgo out with me?â he asked, nervous and hopeful and ridiculously sweet. âLike, on an actual date? Maybe the movies? Or dinner? Or both? Or something better? I can plan. I can plan so hard. I canââ
âIâll go,â you interrupted softly. âWith you. Anywhere.â
Stilesâ smile softened into something almost reverent. He reached out, brushing a thumb gently along your cheekbone, a tiny gesture you felt everywhere.
You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his, the backseat still warm, the forest still quiet, the two of you still tangled up in the new reality of what had just happened.
For the first time all week, Stiles wasnât acting weird.
By the time second period ended, the entire school had decided you and Stiles were absolutely dating. Not that you were being subtle. Stiles hadnât let go of your hand once. Not when you walked in through the front doors. Not when you stopped at your locker. Not when he got so distracted looking at you that he actually forgot how to open said locker and had to slam it shut before it embarrassed him further.
Now you were making your way toward the cafeteria, fingers loosely tangled, Stiles swinging your joined hands like he was high on life itself.
âYou know,â you teased, âmost new couples eventually stop acting like theyâre in a cheesy 90s rom-com.â
He gasped dramatically. âHow dare you insult my artistic vision?â
You snorted, knocking your shoulder gently into his. He bumped yours back, smiling at you in that soft, ridiculously adoring way that made your heart try to crawl up your throat.
âFINALLY,â a voice sang out from behind you.
Both you and Stiles startled as Scott basically jogged up to you, sliding between the two of you like he was joining a group photo.
âI mean, seriously,â Scott continued, grinning like an idiot. âHow long did you two think you were going to be in love with each other without doing anything about it?â
âLOVE?!â Stiles choked, voice jumping an octave.
Scott shrugged. âIâm not wrong.â
Before Stiles could fully combust, Lydia and Allison appeared on the other side of you, each wearing very different expressions. Allison looked delighted and Lydia looked smug, like this was a bet sheâd won from months ago.
Allison clasped her hands together softly. âYou guys look so cute together. Iâm really happy for you.â
Stiles gave her a small, grateful smile, only slightly shaky. âThanks, Ally.â
Lydia crossed her arms, eyebrows raised in flawless, knowing judgment. âHonestly, Iâm just impressed it didnât take you two another five years. Not to be rude, but the mutual pining was getting painful to witness.â
All three of them stared at you, deadpan and silent. Scott tilted his head. âI literally smelled it.â
âSCOTT!â both you and Stiles shouted.
He smiled widely. âIâm just saying, this is way better. Much healthier for both of you.â
Stiles buried his face in his free hand. âI hate this pack.â
âNo, you donât,â Allison said, patting his shoulder.
âNo, I donât,â he admitted.
Lydia stepped forward and did something shockingly gentle for her. She reached out and adjusted the collar of your shirt. âYou look happy,â she said softly.
You smiled back. âI am.â
Her eyes flicked to Stiles. âAnd you, try not to make this weird.â
âMe?â Stiles protested. âWeird? Never.â
The entire group burst out laughing. Scott slung an arm around Stilesâ shoulders. Allison looped her arm through yours. Lydia walked beside you both like a proud mother hen watching her little ships finally dock.
at first, stiles didn't even notice it. the way his heart would race and his cheeks would flush; he was used to having that reaction around you. so used to it, in fact, that he had stopped letting it be a distraction. you'd giggle at his joke or look up at him through your lashes and he'd blush, fidget, move on. like his own little routine.
what got distracting was when he had made the sudden realization one day: you're hot.Â
the two of you had been friends for so long, crushing for almost that whole time, that by the time stiles looked up and saw you in your bikini, it was too late to turn back. he was a goner.
literally-he was out of lydia's backyard and in her half bathroom before you could even ask him to help with your sunscreen.
holy shit. he gripped the sink, glaring at his flushed reflection. get yourself together, perv. so she's got nice tits. really, really nice tits and thighs that could suffocate you and jesus her hips-
no! nope, no no no nonono. it is way too early for this. get real. she's seen you recite the entire opening crawl of the force awakens. she is not going to do that with you- woah! or that! get it together. get it together. get it together.
and so stiles marches back out where you and your friends are gathered, playing marco polo. you glance at him and smirk in that way the tells him you're totally cheating, only proven true when allison calls out "marco!" and you slide past her in the water without joining in the choruses of "polo!"s from all over the pool.
stiles stiffens. your goddamn smirk.Â
this is going to be a loooong day.
â
and it was. a long day that ended in his right hand wrapped around his cock and a fantasy he wouldn't repeat even if there was a gun to his head.Â
but that was over, and it was three days later, anyway. the pack was meeting at the movies to see a new romcom, which the girls were excited for, and the guys were... hoping it had a good soundtrack. it's not that they didn't want to go, it's just that their time- well, stiles' time could be better spent on things like useless research and avoiding his homework. that was his mindset walking into the theater.
now, he's about three inches from having no mindset at all. you're sat next to him, too close for him to remember a single detail of the movie, and you're wearing a tank top. low cut. lace trim on the top. prettiest color he's ever seen.
and stiles can see straight down it.Â
every time he glances over at you, whether it be an excuse of reaching for the popcorn or making a joke or listening to you talk, he has a view down your top right to where your tits are pressed together, rising and falling subtly with each breath. he wonders what the smooth skin of your breasts would look like covered in hickeys. he imagines the sounds you'd make if he had you pinned down, mouth enveloping your pert nipples. he-
he gets up a little too hastily when he rushes out of the theater, into the quiet hall.
"god," he mumbles, tugging his own hair. "fuck."
he has to will his blood to cooperate before he can show his face again.
â
it's getting worse.Â
stiles is chewing on the cap of the marker he has in his hand, eyes darting all over his murder board.
"wouldn't they hunt in packs? this fable here, it reads... stiles?"
stiles turns on his heel, watching you now as you sit on his bed. he's been avoiding looking at you lately, since just recently he had a close call when you hit your knee on scott's coffee table and whined a dramatic 'ahh', leaving stiles to imagine that noise, that face you made in other scenarios.
it's been harder (ha, ha, yeah, no pun intended. he's struggling.) since you asked to come over and help with some research he was doing after a meeting with deaton. you sat all pretty and focused on his bed, twirling and tucking and sometimes tugging your hair when you read out of a book he had borrowed (stolen) from the argent's.
so when he looked at you now, it was with great mental strength. especially when you started rattling off a really smart point he didn't think anyone else would notice that he had realized twenty minutes ago, giving him some time to zone out and watch as you gather your hair behind you, tying it up in a ponytail while you look up at him through your lashes. giving him a second to imagine you looking at him like that with your lips wrapped around his cock, letting him guide you by the ponytail-
stilinski! great. mental. strength.
he turns back to the murder board and nods, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the familiar heat spread all over and his jeans get tight. "yeah, that's- i know, that's a good point."
he hears you shift, the way you get noticeably quiet. "stiles, are you... is everything alright? you seem off."
he shrugs, nods, shrugs again. swallows. "yeah. just a bit tired, that's all."
he can feel your disbelief, but he'd rather feel that then disgust. you both sigh at the same time, and the evening moves on.
â
it's pretty much every time he sees you now. he's a mess, unable to choose between relieving himself and willing his dick to cooperate. you've made a mess of stiles, and he's dying.
you're wearing leggings today, talking to scott while stiles watches from the bench. coach is barking orders at a couple of stray lacrosse boys, and stiles is lucky enough to have dodged his attention this evening.
game night is usually when he's free of the hold you have on him, too busy gnawing on his goalie gloves and tracking scott across the field. but you and allison showed up early (curse scott and his happy relationship), so his pea-sized brain has time to imagine sliding the buttery fabric down your legs, kissing exposed skin as he goes. he'd definitely pay close attention to your thighs- he thinks about those more than he'd care to admit, and he's aware of how idiotically insecure of them you are.Â
because of his train of thought, he doesn't realize you've caught him staring until it's too late. you're prancing over excitedly and leaving scott to smirk at stiles all knowingly, and stiles resists the urge to flip him off.
"you gonna play, 24?" you nudge his foot teasingly with your own. he looks up at you and feels those telltale signs as he fanaticizes about tracing the line of your jaw with his finger, both of you panting softly as he coos at you while you whine pathetically. he has to blink away the thought before he can speak.
"um, i hope not. it's an important game." he leans back a bit and you tilt your head, clearly mulling over your next words. he fills the space in the meantime. "but if i do, i'll be sure to keep away from the ball."
it's music to his ears when you laugh. finally, finally he's blushing about something normal, having regular fantasies instead of these hormone fueled pornos that seem to be on repeat in his head lately. he smiles up at you and you take a small step closer to being in between his legs.
"i don't mean to bring it up so randomly..." you avoid his eyes, fiddling with your hands. "but i was just wondering if i've done something to upset you?"
he blinks. "what?"
"it's just that you've been distant and honestly, you're acting kind of like you're allergic to me. if i did something or there's something going on just tell me. it's kinda driving me crazy." you ramble, brows drawn together in discomfort.Â
stiles' eyes widen and he shakes his head, standing. his heart skips a beat when you have to tilt your chin up a bit to keep his eyes. "no, of course not. i didn't know... i guess i've... it's just-" he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. how is he supposed to explain this? 'oh, hey, girl i've been super into for a pathetically long time, i've been imagining what you'd look like if i pinned you to my bed and drove us both insane from a sex marathon! that's cool, right? not objectifying at all!'
you frown, crossing your arms. "just tired?"
it's bait, he knows it is. the same excuse he used less than a week ago to keep you from figuring him out. you're a clever girl and he's stupid when he's horny, so he has to play his cards right here. if you think he's lying, things will only get worse and there's a hefty chance you'll distance yourself. but if he tells a lie a little too well, you're going to be around him constantly again. either way, he's starting to wonder if he's a masochist from the amount of pain he's going to inflict on himself.
"it's nothing, really. i didn't mean to get distant." he clenches his jaw as he gauges your reaction, which is a less-than-ideal-but-not-terrible pout. he wants to smooth the lines of your forehead with his thumb and make you laugh again, but he has to focus. "let me make it up to you?"
you turn your face away (very, very not good) and huff. "no, don't worry about it."
stiles cringes internally and bites the inside of his cheek. how can he un-dig this hole he's in? "no, no, i want to. i shouldn't have made you worry. that's my fault. i'll pick you up tomorrow, we can get food. my treat."
you turn back to face him, and the way your bottom lip just barely juts out tells him you're playing it up, but he doesn't mind. he's come to realize that you like to feel earned, and he's more than happy to earn you. he takes a breath, eyebrows raised. "what are you thinking?"
you drop the pout (much to his relief, he was just starting to imagine you using that face on him when he makes you tell him exactly what you want him to do to you) and put your hands on your (perfect, sexy) hips. "i'm thinking that if you didn't mean to get distant then it was subconscious, and it's going to be more of an effort to be around me than not."
so clever. god, you're so hot when you use critical thinking skills.Â
stiles sighs and shuffles a bit. "yeah, okay, i can understand where you're getting that but it's wrong-"
"but it isn't. you've been proving it right all week and-"
"hold on, no i haven't, i've just been-"
"-you definitely lied to me in your room a few days ago-"
"-there's no way you're actually believing-"
"STILINSKI!" coach's voice booms over both of you, halting the beginning of an argument that probably would have only turned stiles on more. he whips his head around to where the entire team is gathered, and realizes he was so wrapped up in you that he tuned out everything around him, including the team rallying together to talk strategy before the game started. he blinks, distantly hearing you mumble a mortified "oh." and skitter off, leaving stiles to be completely embarrassed alone.
"would you like to join us or are you too busy harassing the young ladies in the general area?" coach's tone is strung with impatience, eyes wide.
"ah..." stiles glances to the spot you just stood in and then back to the team. "no, coach, 'm coming."
"fantastic." he drawls, before turning back to the team and continuing his rant. stiles is half-listening, half-daydreaming about 'making it up to you' in many different ways, positions, and places. for many hours.
yeah, he's dead. for sure. you're killing him.
â
although making it up to you currently involved a lot more clothing and a lot less begging, stiles was having a really good time. sat in his room, arguing about book to movie adaptations, both of you holding your own milkshakes. with all his time spent avoiding you out of... sex-driven fear? he really forgot how much he enjoyed your company.
"you wouldn't get it," you shake your head stubbornly as he stands and sets his milkshake on his desk so he can use the dry erase board in his room. "you don't read books."
"i do-"
"yeah, i don't count the bestiary."
"that's besides the point, anyway. i don't have to read the book to know whether the movie is a good adaptation or not!" he starts writing down movies he knows are heavily based off of books while you crawl across his floor to his desk, sneaking a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. he's too busy to notice that the half-melted treat dribbles off of the spoon and spills above the cut of your tank top (the same one as the movie theater, actually) and onto your exposed thighs.
"fuck." you hiss under your breath. stiles turns to see what caused your quiet outburst, but his brain screeches to a halt at the sight of you.
perched on your knees, you're glaring down at the mess that's been spilled on the top of your tits and thighs, white sliding down to the line where they're pressed together. stiles doesn't even blink, just stares with a slightly open mouth at the sight of you. a small noise leaves his mouth and he can feel the tent in his sweats, but he's a bit frozen.
you look up when he makes the strangled grunt, looking caught with his milkshake in your hand, as if that's his issue right now. "uhh... whoops? i swear, it just flew into my hand! how crazy is that...."
your joke trails off as you really see his face. his eyes are dark and hungry, almost predatory as they sweep over your body, hanging on the spills that you made. his mouth shuts and his jaw clenches. his hands are curled into restrained, white-knuckled fists. and...
he's hard as a fucking rock.
it's easy to tell, with his grey sweatpants, and you feel your mouth water at the sight.
"it's fine." he mumbles, voice dry. you take a second before you realize he's talking about the milkshake. both of you are bright red. you force out a breath and he seems to come to, turning back around quickly. "uh, s-so, harry potter-"
"is that because of me?" you blurt, getting hotter in the cheeks every second.
stiles quiets, turning to face you finally. your stomach swoops and you shuffle barely closer. his adams apple bobs.
"yeah. it... it is"
that's it. a simple confession, but it feels like a chord being snapped between the two of you. your confidence grows. you made stiles like that.
"are you gonna do something about it?"
his head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks at you. "you want me to?"
"why else would i ask, stiles?" you sound almost exasperated, like he's taking to long. he swallows and drops to his knees in front of you.
stiles. is crawling towards you. on his knees.
"are you... do you really?" he's close, so close now. looking into your eyes like they'll answer for you. like they contain every 'yes' you've been too scared to whisper.
which, honestly, is probably not far from true.
"i do. i really, really, d-"
his lips are on yours before you can finish, one hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you closer. you let out a muffled noise of surprise, mouth opening on it's own accord as stiles takes the kiss deeper, tongue exploring your mouth hotly.
"you're impossible-" stiles gasps, going in for more before he can finish. "-to be around-" his teeth nip your bottom lip. "-when i can't have you."
his lips leave a wet kiss on the corner of your mouth, so passionate that he misses, and he continues that trail onto your neck until he finds the spot that makes you squirm. his hands go to your waist, pulling you closer and knocking your knees together. you feel dizzy with want, barely registering his words.
"what-" you gasp, blinking and leaning into his demanding mouth. "what is that supposed to mean?"
stiles groans against the skin of your neck, kissing lower, closer to the sticky mess you made just minutes ago. "i can't think... can't even... fuckin'... breathe when you're near, y'look so pretty. j'st wanna make you-"
he interrupts himself again, opting instead to lick the ice cream off the top of your tits like he's starving. you gasp as the feel of his tongue against your skin, pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the sudden pressure shooting down your stomach to your core. he's barely making sense and he still has you all foggy brained, swaying just a bit under his touch.
"you-you've thought about this? befo- oh-" you stumble, as he tugs lightly against the low cut to give himself better access to the sweetness melted onto your skin. he laughs, seeming to clear up a bit.
"yeah. you kidding me? i've basically been-" he's kissing back up your neck now, seeming to track a path to your lips. "-perpetually hard for the past three weeks."
you swallow thickly and he captures your lips. stiles tastes like vanilla ice cream and it's the most tempting sin, luring you over the edge. enticing you to do things you'd normally pretend you weren't into. he runs a hand down the side of your body, squeezing your hip lightly. "you're torture, you know that?"
"i could say the same to you."
he smiles at you, like a sap, like a saint. you feel your mind fall into his hands and your heart nestle against his ribcage. you no longer belong to yourself. you never have. and neither does he, it seems, as his eyes wander all over you.
"wanna move to the bed? i can clean up your thighs..." his tone is low, clearly suggestive in a bad-pickup-line way. you nod, giggling girlishly and stiles hauls you up to gently lay you back on his bed, tugging your tank top off on the way. his eyes linger on your chest before moving along, kissing a wet trail down your body as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. "god, look at you. you're gorgeous."
it's not like you're wearing lingerie and sexy makeup- you went to stiles' place to lounge, so you're wearing your lounge bra and some comfy shorts. stiles looks at you, though, as if you invented beauty. he sighs contentedly as he pulls your bottoms off slowly, eyes drinking in your stomach and hips and thighs like you're the first woman to have them. once he's got them far off enough, his hands press your hips back down and his eyes meet yours.
"not to late to back out. well- obviously it's never too late, it's just... okay, this is me asking for consent. i was trying to make it sexy, but it sounded a bit rapey."
you laugh breathlessly and nod at him where he stands, towering above your almost-naked form. "stiles, please stop talking and fulfill both of our fantasies already."
stiles grins and tugs his shirt halfway off before stopping abruptly. "wait- both?"
you roll your eyes. "stiles, why would i be so... so..."
"obedient?" he offers with a cocky smirk. you flush.
"agreeable, if i didn't want this?" you nibble your lip as he pulls his shirt the rest of the way off his body, getting on his knees at the edge of the bed and spreading your legs. your body moves pliantly under his hands. the sight of it all is downright promiscuous.
"well," stiles presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. it would be sweet if not for the sinful way his eyes are preoccupied with the wet spot on your panties. "i heard girls find consent sexy. maybe i screwed that one up a bit. what do you think is sexy?"Â
he asks in that absent tone that tells you he's storing away information as he kisses further up the inside of your thighs more fervently. you let out a breath that feels too shaky too early and watch as his pink tongue swipes out to lick up some ice cream spill. it makes you clench around nothing.Â
"any day now." his hand is gently rubbing your thigh as he moves to lick and suck almost crudely at your other thigh.
your eyes narrow slightly. "gimme a second."
he gets closer to where you're literally soaked for him, nibbling lightly at the plush flesh of your inner thigh. you shove down a low whine of impatience to avoid your already growing embarrassment.
"your attention to foreplay is- i like it." you admit softly and he hums, licking a stripe of ice cream out of the way. taking a second to think, you continue. "i like the... the desperation. how you took me without really... um... i like it when you just do what you want, i mean."
it's difficult to form a single thought once stiles presses a kiss against your clothed clit, being sure to add plenty of pressure. almost like a reward. "what if you don't like what i want? will you tell me to stop?"
you nod, chest rising and falling heavily with every breath. you glance down at stiles, and a small sound leaves your lips when your eyes catch his hand down his sweats, slowly stroking himself. he flushes.Â
"you.... can't i help?"
he lets out a small moan and his eyes flutter as he halts his movements. "i don't- i don't have a condom."
against all better judgement, you shake your head and thread your fingers through his messy hair. "it's okay. just pull out, yeah?"
his brows shoot up, and you wonder for a moment if he's about to cum in his pants. but then he nods and rises, standing in between your legs now. his fingers deftly tug off your panties, pocketing them in his sweats (for "safe keeping") and his lips part silently once you're exposed to him.
your legs begin to close, feeling suddenly too naked and too insecure for his hungry eyes, but his hands catch your knees easily, even giving you a little tap as a sign to scoot further onto the bed.
before you comply, curiosity takes over and you tug at the strings on his sweatpants. "wait, what about you?"
he tilts his head. "what about me?"
you narrow your eyes, fingers dipping under the band. "can i take these off?"
"oh!" his brows shoot up, as if he forgot about himself altogether. "oh, yeah, of course. please."
you waste no time pulling his bottoms off, his cock springing out. it's flushed and leaking, looking properly erotic in the dim lighting of his room. your eyes flutter up to meet his and you wrap your hands around him, pumping twice.
stiles moans, hips twitching into your hands on their own accord. "holy shit."
part of you just wants to finish him that way, positively fucking hooked on the look he has, pleasure pinching his pretty face all tight. he pants and pulls your hands away, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment. "y're gonna make me cum, holy shit."
"i'm sorry, you just..." you fluster, laughing a tad at the both of you. he shakes his head, though, so you fall silent and let him crawl over top of you, kissing you deeply. he unhooks your bra with a bit of struggle and you both have to cooperate to get it off of your body. you giggle, and his eyes are locked on you as your smile slowly fades.
"don't be sorry," his voice is gentle, "i've imagined that so many times it should be criminal." he kisses you again and you feel his fingers graze along your stomach. stiles pulls back far enough to see your whole face and you wonder why- then his thumb is circling your clit.
the high-pitched gasp you suck in is not as embarrassing as the louder whine that leaves your lips once he's slid a finger into you, eyes closing for a moment to soak in the bliss. it feels like heaven, for a long moment. but his fingers are slow. too slow. and even when you cant your hips, he doesn't speed up enough to have you seeing stars (like you know he can). instead, he has you writhing impatiently. "you're... stiles, please."
it's whiney and pathetic, but stiles seems to stifle a smirk when he hears it, covering it with a sympathetic pout instead. "i know, pretty girl, i know. you gonna ask nicely?"
and you knew you gave him permission to do whatever he wanted. but you didn't expect to be into it. your lips part and you almost tell him to shut up and fuck you already. but you're hot with embarrassment and something else he can totally feel when your walls clench around his torturous fingers. so instead, you opt for falling right into his hands.
"please, stiles, fuck me already." you whisper, lips brushing against his when you speak. "please."
"there we go." he presses a peck to your lips and slips his fingers out. "such a good girl."
you aren't given any time to process that and the fact that it made you throb like a personal whore- stiles is already swiping his tip through your folds, making you gasp when it catches on your clit. he's panting heavily as he lines himself up, and you're a little surprised when he finds your hand and laces his own against it.Â
then, he's stretching you open and you're seeing stars, just like you knew he could make you do.
stiles is sweet, but he's not exactly gentle. hips rolling into you and his tongue pressing against your own. a hand pinning you to the bed and keeping him upright, the other tweaking your nipples or teasing your clit. he's all over you, pulling back every once in awhile to watch the way you arch your back and gasp out unintelligible pleas. his moans are about as pathetic as yours and he hisses "fuck" into your ear when you clench around him tightly. your dance goes on like this for a moment, and he's rambling horny nonsense constantly.
"stiles, 'm close-" you whimper, free hand pulling him closer by the hair. he gasps out and his hips snap roughly.Â
"yeah, me too. jesus, you're so perfect. look at you." he pushes some of your hair out of the way, eyes meeting yours. "you gonna cum for me?"
you nod, eyebrows turning up as you feel the warmth crawl up your belly. your free hand tugs at his mussed up hair again and his expression matches yours. he speeds up and you gasp and whimper, pliant under his body as he fucks you into his mattress.
"stiles, fuck, stiles, i'm-"
"that's it, there you go, hooooly fuck." he holds your hips down when you finish, rutting into you with an open mouth. he's got his forehead pressed against your own, swallowing each others desperate moans as he rides you through your orgasm. stiles' moan is sudden and loud when he pulls out in a rush and finishes on your cunt, his tip pressing into your overstimulated clit and making your legs twitch.
you gasp out a breath and sink into the mattress, sighing contentedly. when your eyes flutter open on heavy lids, stiles is gazing at you. he leans down and kisses you, soft and sweet and full of a confession long coming.
"that was..."
"amazing." he finishes dazedly, hands running over your bare skin anywhere he can reach. "want me to use my mouth?"
your brows raise. "stiles, i just came."
"i know." he sighs, playing with some of your hair. "it was so fucking hot."
"you said you've been perpetually hard for three weeks?" you attempt to change the subject, but stiles only grins wider.
"yeah, so i've got plenty more fantasies to play out before i'm out of steam."
you shove him lightly, fighting a flustered smile. "just- give me a second, you dog!"Â
"awooooo." stiles deadpans an imitation of a howl, nuzzling into your neck. "let me know when you're ready. i'll just be here. naked. on top of you. in the mood to make you pass out from orgasms. willing to learn every kink you have- which, hey, the praise kink was a good guess, right?"
you groan, pushing him off of you. your face is flushed red and you snatch his nearby discarded t-shirt when you sit up. "that was so out of left field."
"yeah, but was it? i mean, you-"
"i'm getting in the shower, stiles." you stand and take a few steps away from him before you turn to gauge his reaction.
his eyebrows shoot up from where he sits on the bed. it makes you bright fucking red when his eyes trail down and he watches a bead of his own cum slide down your inner thigh. he licks his lips.
"i'll come with."
â
this is from the vault, so if you've read it already, that's why! don't be afraid to interact with it anyway, i love crazy readers and feral responses sjdjsaskdj
Going off on your âstiles being accidentally hotâ. Think of like a beach date but then you notice how all the girls are looking at him but heâs obliviously stiles not realizing heâs gained muscle from all his lacrosse training
(Then you prove heâs yours) WHAT?! Who said that?!
(Sorry Iâm a freak)
anon is referring to this post.
did i make this ask from a different account?? i feel like we type the same. also that last part looks like the one meme of the spongebob fish looking back... ykwim?? too lazy to find it.
i would like to apologize to all blondes about to read this fic. my condolences.
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scott is spraying stiles down, head-to-toe with SPF 50. the way the sunscreen looks on his skin as it soaks in is downright criminal, honestly, and it seems you're not the only one who's noticed.
there's a pretty blonde bitch staring at your boyfriend.
okay, well, wait a second there. she's not a bitch for admiring him. there's been no tell that he's taken.
yet.
you frown and take a drink of the margarita lydia asked you to hold. there's a lipstick stain on the can where her lips were imprinted, but that doesn't sway your gaze from the blonde as she takes notice to his newfound abs. they're not crazy chiseled like derek- but they're definitely there.
meanwhile, bless his heart, your idiot boyfriend is singing along to the song blasting from the speaker scott brought, and he's using the sunscreen bottle as a mic. he turns to you and points as he sings the lyrics like the performance is just for you, and this does make you smile.
"is that a fruity marg? for me?" he drops the sunscreen and takes lydia's drink from your hand. before you can protest, he's already taken a big swig, and there's a shine on his bottom lip when he swallows. "that is really good. wanna taste?"
"what? i already had a taste. besides, it's-"
and then he's kissing you, pressing the strawberry flavor into your mouth. you flush bright pink and he pulls away, bobbing his eyebrows at you with a grin. "good, right? sorry, you just look really nice in that swimsuit."
you're aware, with the way his eyes dip down to peruse over your cleavage and hips, that 'nice' is code for 'unjustly fuckable.' and you kinda wish he would say it. but alas, scott is calling his name to throw a football back and forth and you brought your book for a reason, so you part ways with a mutual look of longing.
from your spot on the beach, the veiw is great. the white sands, the pretty waves, your boyfriend's pecs, the blue sky. really, the scenery is hard to beat. stiles' hair is stuck to his forehead after getting dunked by isaac and liam. oh, and your book is good too. you've been stuck on the same page since you sat down.
and there's two younger teenage girls fawning over stiles under a canopy next to you guys. lydia swirls her half-empty drink and scoffs at their giggling, glancing at you. "don't tell me they're the ones getting to you."
"what ever could you mean?" you bat your lashes at her dramatically. "they're just young girls who can appreciate hard work on a man, anyway."
"those aren't young girls." lydia nods past you, eyes darting between something. when you turn your head to look, there's that gorgeous blonde again with what seems to be her friend. both of them are slim and tall, and totally hotter than you. and eyeing stiles, much more boldly this time.
"careful babe, you're showing your teeth." lydia turns back to her own book and languidly flips the page. you close your eyes and huff out a sigh.
"it's probably just the newfound biceps, right? and the hair. he deserves some flattery."
"go cool off, i can't focus with the smoke blowing out of your ears." lydia hums without looking up.
you stand. "i'm gonna go for a swim."
"watch for sharks."
you glare at the two women across the way. "yeah, i will."
but just as you begin to make your way to the ocean, the football the boys were throwing veers off course and rolls over to the two younger teenagers, stopping right at their bare feet. you pause, watching as if in slo-mo as stiles jogs up and apologizes, seeming oblivious to their blushing and giggling. one of them hands him the ball back, and he beams down at her gratefully. they squeal when he jogs off.
you don't realize your fists are clenched until you're already in the water. they're little girls! that is totally normal! why are you being so territorial, as if he's gonna even know they like him!
you splash some water on your face, calming at the gentle sway of the tide, the cool temperature of the ocean lapping at your skin. yeah, you're fine. it was just a blip. just a blip. you're chill.
you turn towards the beach to beckon lydia in, but halt as you see blonde bitch and her croonie talking to stiles closely. you're so not fucking chill right now-
cool it, take a breath. you clench your jaw and shut your eyes, grounding yourself. you will not play overbearing girlfriend just as soon as stiles is getting attention. he needs to know that you're not lying when you call him hot and sexy and pretty and everything else that is true. this is perfect confirmation.
your eyes open because you hear a pretty, high-pitched laugh. it's the blondie's equally-gorgeous friend, who tucks her hair back and bats her lashes at him. he rubs the back of his neck, which he usually only does when you get suggestive with him.
and then blondie caresses his perfect, freckled bicep.
oh hell no.
you storm out of the water and right up to their little conversation, grabbing stiles by the wrist. "hey, can i talk to you for a sec?"
but you're already moving, practically dragging him along behind you as you make your way to the edge of the open beach, where there's a large rock sectioning off what's open and what's not. you pull stiles around it, stomping through shallow water to reach a completely empty, private side of the beach.
you don't think about who could stumble over or how the long grass tickles your ankles- you're already pressing stiles up against the large rock and kissing him blind.
he makes an "mmph!" noise when you first crash your lips onto his, but enthusiastically returns the kiss with a hand sliding to the back of your head. you barely come up for air as you lap your tongue into his mouth roughly, hands splaying across his naked, smooth torso. you press your whole body up against his, needing more more more of him. you need him all over you, need him to know who he chose and why. your mouth travels to his neck, and it tastes salty sweet when you start the makings of a dark hickey.
"hoooly- i'm- i'm, uh, not suggesting you stop, like at all, but i am a bit curious on what i, uh- fuck- did to get here? j-just so i can..." his words trail off as your fingers trace underneath his swim trunks. a strangled noise leaves his throat when you press your hips into his growing erection, raking your teeth lightly across the new mark at the same time.
"stupid fucking girls practically throwing themselves at you," you mumble bitterly before going in for another heated kiss. "as if it's not obvious we're together."
he pulls back from the kiss and you open your eyes to glare at him, only to be met with a cocky smirk and wide eyes. "are you saying you're jealous?"
you pull your body off of his, shoving his shoulder lightly. "don't look so happy! she was practically stripping you naked with her eyes."
he cups your neck with his hand, reminding you of how big it is. stiles' eyes lose the self-assured glint and go soft, flitting all over your face as he parts his lips. "you're not mad, are you?"
"at you? no." you feel his other hand slide around your hip and over the top of your ass, pressing your body back up against his not-so-subtly. "at the girls practically prowling around you like you're some piece of meat? yes."
his eyes zero in on your lips as you lick them, furrowing his brow a bit like he has to focus in order to finish his thought. "i didn't even know she was flirting. i wouldn't have..."
but you don't let him finish, stretching up to kiss again and he deepens the kisses quickly, his hands pulling you in. you mouth down stiles' neck and chest, slowly sinking to your knees in front of him. before you got far, he was all breathy encouragement. but when you look up at him, face to face with his happy trail and low-hanging trunks, his jaw goes slack and his eyes glaze over in anticipation.
"oh, are we- are we doing-? okay, yep, yepyepyep i am very cool with this, yeah-" he helps you slide his trunks far down enough as you kiss along his subtle v-line. he sighs, brows upturned for you. "all yours, it's all yours."
you nod, smirking to yourself when he has to clamp a palm over his mouth as your hands begin what your tongue will soon replace.
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stiles stumbles out from behind the rock a little while after you, red in the face and littered in hickeys. scott turns to you with a scrunched up nose, feigning disgust. "dude. seriously?"
you blink at him, wide eyed. "what? i was just checking on a jellyfish sting!"
lydia raises her drink to you, not looking up from her book. "impressive time."
"you think so?" you smile sweetly at her.
"unless he's always that quick."
"you guys are disgusting." scott gags as he escapes you two.
thomas rubs his hands on his jeans, trying to rid them of their nervous sweating.
as it gets hotter in the safe haven, and civilization gets more stable, there's more time to screw around. at least, that's how frypan put it that morning when he caught thomas staring at a group game of mother may i (something brenda introduced to the kids).
the thing is, thomas wasn't staring at the kids playing specifically. he was staring at you, playing with the kids, in nothing but a tank top and some shorts. he'd never seen you in a tank top before in his life. your tanned shoulders with scattered freckles and scars, the strip of skin that peeked out underneath the hem, and most of all: the scoop neckline. he could see your collar bones, your sternum. not that he was paying attention to that, although it was a fantastic view. he was rather distracted. he had never seen your cleavage before, after all.
he had also never seen you well rested and fed. your eyes had a new glow to them as you scooped a kid into your arms and sent her into a giggling fit. your hair looked fuller, and your legs looked stronger.
and you're wearing a tank top.
now, he's trying to busy himself with helping out. construction work is fun to him, because he likes leading a process and seeing the finished result. right now, the glade guys are working on a shelter for the pregnant women to relax in. although it's in the first phase, production is moving along smoothly and thomas is feeling optimistic about the results!
or, he would be. if you weren't wearing a goddamn tank top.
he's lifting a plank over one of his shoulders when you bring a bucket of filtered water and some makeshift cups. your skin looks smooth in the afternoon sun and all thomas can think about is touching it, just there. pressing his fingertips to the curve of your neck. getting his palms familiar with the dip of your waist and the gap where your stomach shows. letting his lips follow. on your cheek, or your jaw, or making home on your pretty thighs-
the plank he was lifting slips out of his grip and flies forward. one end lands on his foot and the other end knocks him square in the back of the head, sending him stumbling forward into the ground beneath him.
a chorus of "ooo" sounds around him from the guys, while you call out a loud "oh, shit!"
and thomas just lies there, honestly. he's mortified with himself and his head and foot are both throbbing like a bitch, so he makes the executive decision to just choke on sand and die where he's laying so he doesn't have to face you.
unfortunately, he's never been so lucky, and you're on him in a second. crouched at his side and forcibly flipping him over to face you, your eyes still have that energized glow he found that morning as you worridly look him all over for other injuries. "are you okay? jesus, thomas! you need to be more careful, you could've seriously hurt yourself!"
your fussing drowns out as he gazes up at you, your head haloed by the glint of the sun and your tank top right up close where he can see the tan lines you're getting, and the scooped cut, and wow have you always smelled this good? and he's telling his brain not to let his eyes stare at your cleavage and your chest but c'mon it's right there and god his head hurts.
"okay, up. up! i'm gonna go check you out and give you a wrap for your toes. why would you do this barefoot? you're bleeding, thomas!" you urge him to sit up and he can see now that his foot does in fact have some cuts from the edge of the wood. he blinks a few times and looks from you to the guys, all watching from a few feet away. minho gives thomas a very telling look and then glances down, like he's trying to communicate with his eyes.
thomas squints, head still throbbing and making him feel all ruffled. he turns to you and mumbles, "i'm fine, i'm okay," as your gentle fingers card through his hair, caressing the spot on his head that got hit. he lets out a small grunt, uncomfortable with the increased pounding at your touch, and flinches away.
"you're not fine, thomas. just let me wrap your foot up, at least?" you look at him with pretty, pleading eyes and your unoccupied hand lands on his knee. and of course, thomas relents.
"okay, fine." he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet. he's embarrassed of the slight limp he's sporting as you lead him off to the med hut.
and, sure. thomas' pride is a bit bruised by the whole situation and he doesn't feel very much like a protector or provider when you wrap his toes to avoid infection. but all of that is insignificant when you line your body against his, letting him lean back against the makeshift counter and finally, finally slide his hands along your hips.
"i'm worried about your head," you muse, gingerly brushing the spot that was hit. thomas admires your lashes as they flutter, humming distractedly.
"i'll be fine." he pushes your hair back, wishing you'd give him an excuse to leave his work and indulge in his daydreams. "what are you doing today?"
"I'm in charge of the reading/writing classes today." you close your eyes and breathe in deep, "most all the kids are clever, but it's so hard for them to learn. just, you know, with the strain WCKD put on their brains, i can't... thomas? are you alright?"
and thomas is listening, he really is. but you're pressing every damn inch of your body to his, and your tank top is pulled low and all he wants to do is listen, can his stupid fucking brain shut off this response now, please?
"yes," he narrows his eyes, huffing as his frustration with himself escalates. you're clearly in the mood to confide in him, and he can't figure out why the only thing his pea-sized brain can conjure up is a vulgar image of the two of you. "maybe. i... i want to hear about this, i promise. and, you know i'm well aware of the damages WCKD does to the brain-"
"oh, of course, i..." you take a subtle step back, and he realizes too late how he sounds more defensive and less frazzled.
thomas' hands pull you back into him by the hips. "no, no. i'm trying to... aurgh! i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. i can't. think."
your eyebrows shoot up as his body grows more and more painfully aware of your hands on his chest, your thighs pressed to his own, the way your lips part in a little 'o' and how your eyes look when you look up at him without lifting your chin. thomas knows he's hard, he's not a blubbering idiot. but it's never really been such an issue before. as long as he fully remembers, there's always been much more important things to think about, like keeping you and the rest of the gladers alive and safe.
but now, that's not so much an issue. and it feels like every little thing you do, every noise and expression and action, makes thomas have the same reaction.
"you can't think?" you prompt, as he feels you press harder against his erection. you must not feel it, then. thomas tries not to roll his hips into the relieving release of pressure.
"i can, i can." he sucks in through his teeth and tries to gently pry you away. your subtle resistance confuses him, and he hates that he'll have to tell you if you don't figure out soon enough here. "i just... i'm, um, really sorry. that you have to start below ground zero with the kids."
there's a lengthy pause of silence as you stare up at him, like you're waiting. he waits too, hoping there'll be some kind of hint to what else he should say to get you talking again so you can both move on from this mortifying ordeal.
instead, you seem to deflate slightly and take a step back. compared to before, and now lacking the sweet press of your body on his, it feels like a mile between you.
"okay." you sigh, tucking some of your hair back. thomas watches with a level of confusion and guilt he can't even fathom. "well, i should head back. it'll probably be time for me to gather the kids soon."
he stays stuck against the counter with an unmistakable boner right up until you're about to push the curtain out of the way and leave. only then does he regain his composure enough to stop you, pushing off of the counter and taking a couple of steps nearer to you.
"wait."
you turn to face him eagerly, eyes wide and wanting something he can't place. thomas swallows thickly.
"i have to tell you something. because i hate not being honest with you. and... you can be as mad as you want, okay? i promise i won't get upset."
he watches the doubt seep into your body language. "...okay."
and it all comes tumbling out of his mouth.
"i can't stop thinking about you. like- in these terrible, horrible ways that i like. and i feel so bad because you have no idea, but it's just- god, when you wear that top. all i can- everything- the only thing i can focus on is your body. and your hair, too. and your legs. and your lips, a lot. and all i wanna do is... it's so bad. i'm sorry."
thomas wasn't aware of how terrible he felt about thinking about you compromisingly until he voiced it, but when he meets your eyes again... he's completely thrown by your expression. you look- not hungry, that's not the right word. but somehow it is, with the way your eyes rove over him and back up again, how you take a few steps closer. your face is slowly melding into that expression you always get when he flatters you. like, all pretty and flustered with eyes that say more more more.
"you're sorry about it?"
he blinks. "yeah. i just, i don't want you to be in any position you wouldn't want to be in. even in my head."
you nod, of course. because that makes sense. but that's not what your face is saying. he watches as your eyes dip down shyly. "thomas, i... i've been having similar thoughts."
"oh."
well, this changes things.
you've been thinking about thomas? like that? on top of you, behind you, under you? panting and begging and sweaty and jesus christ, he's hard as a rock.
"tell me." his voice comes out as a command, instead of a question. you respond before he can correct himself.
"t-tell you what i've been imagining?"
god, imagining makes it sound so purposeful. thomas can see it in his head; you, in your bed, imagining him doing things to you. making you squirm and whine and plead. he has to know. thomas doesn't know a lot of things, and he loves learning them. but his favorite puzzle has been you. and this is another thrilling piece.
"yes." he can barely get the word out fast enough, closing the distance between the two of you so he can guide you to press up against the rickety counters. he would totally have you perched on them, if he trusted the workmanship at all. but this will do, for now. "what have you been thinking about me?"
"it's probably worse, thomas. i don't want to make you uncomfortable." you sound sincere, but he realizes too late that this is you throwing his words back in his own face, showing that it may have offended you when he apologized for wanting you that way.
he kisses his teeth, meets your eyes. "promise it won't. i'll understand. we can do an exchange, yeah? a thought for a thought."
you huff out a laugh. "what, like a trade? are you bargaining for my dirty fantasies of you?"
his dick twitches like it heard your words instead of his head, and he nods. leaning down close, he lets a smile slip across his lips. "yeah, that's a perfect example. we can value them; the more outlandish the fantasy, the more pricey it is."
"and if you have no fantasy pricey enough to match mine?" you tilt your chin up so your plush lips are a breath away from his, and he listens as your voice dips to a sultry hum. "how will you repay me?"
thomas pretends to think, hmm's in wonder. in the meantime, his hands roam from your waist to your hips, growing confident enough to almost reach lower before he responds:
"guess i'll have to find some other way, then."
your lips meet, and thomas gets a few kisses in before he grows impatient and slides his tongue gently across your bottom lip. you only encourage his demanding mouth, pulling him closer by the back of his neck and letting his tongue press against your own.
thomas loves making out with you. it's only happened twice before, and both times he found something new that made you whimper-whipmer!- and it made him feel like he could rule the world. he's never been egotistical, but there's something about the way you pull a bit too rough on his lip with your teeth or how your mixed saliva catches at the corners of his mouth that makes him think he'd be a great father, and a perfect provider for you. when you suck on his tongue, he groans and his hips flex forward. he doesn't even realize his stupid dick is searching for friction until he breaks away to kiss at your neck and leaves you room to talk.
"thomas, you're-" you pant as he litters open-mouthed kisses against your soft skin. "you're hard."
"mmhm, told you." he rakes his teeth along your collar bone before his mouth finds your ear. "been so distracted by you lately. can't go to bed without touching myself," you moan quietly. he about cums right then and there. "thinking of you."
"m-me too." he can hear the nervous stutter from a mile away, and he smiles, pausing against your skin for a moment.
"tell me what you think of." he kisses your neck, long and soft and slow. just once. and then lifts his mouth away enough to speak again. "when you touch yourself."
he can hear you swallow, feel your heart flutter like a bunny. he doesn't know why, but he likes it. and he doesn't feel bad about it.
"it's bad." you exhale, like you don't want him to hear you.
he pulls back so he can tower over you a little, narrows his brow with concern. "it's alright. tell me."
you pout and glance away before your mouth opens again, but you don't protest any further. good girl.
"i... i like the idea of, um, you." you catch your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment as your eyes flit around the dim hut. "you... all over me. just, out of nowhere. most of the time i imagine me in the middle of hanging the laundry out to dry, or prepping for my class, or tidying or something. and you just come in and push everything out of the way and take me, no questions or comments. i know how you look at me sometimes, when there's people around. there's times i... i wish you'd just tell them to get out and act on whatever you're thinking."
he watches you swallow, so tuned into your posture and movements. listening to every word like it's a sacred truth. you take a breath and continue.
"the other night... i was in the shower late. after i helped out with the fertility house. i touched myself." you confess, and thomas notes how you refuse to meet his head-on gaze. "i was thinking of you coming in and using your... your fingers, um, on me. looking at me in that way you do, with your hair wet. making me tell you all the bad things i thought when i saw you, sweaty and working hard."
you're flustered and shy when you finish, chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace than before. thomas tilts his head as he watches your face, being sure he's keeping contact at every point between your bodies. being sure you know he's not scared of you or your wild imagination. being sure you can feel how much he loves it.
"i'm sorry." your voice is a whisper of insecurity.
thomas quickly snaps out of his silence, gathering your precious face in both of his calloused hands. "no, no, no. don't apologize." he pleads, forcing you to look at him finally. your eyes are swimming with worry and unsureness, and thomas wants to swat your thought spiral away like it's a fly. "never. never apologize for telling me something so lovely."
he pushes your hair back and kisses your cheek sensually. when he feels you melt into him a little, he continues onto your other cheek. before he can reach your mouth, you speak in more hushed whispers.
"i was afraid you'd think it's gross."
he laughs just a little at that, but mostly because it's the most unrealistic thing he's ever heard. pulling back, he finds your eyes and holds their focus with a look of sincerity. "l think the idea of you feeling good because you're thinking of me is the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"thomas, you saved society from a government domination and a deadly virus."
"yes, and you touched yourself at the thought of me." thomas can't help it, he kisses you roughly. takes you in the way you described; ravaging and sloppy and selfish. it feels good. he laps in your mouth and he likes how uncouth it is. like he's defiling you from your lips downward. "i bet you looked so pretty. all helpless and begging for me. that's..."
that's gonna make him finish in his work jeans, for sure. holy fucking shit, you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to thomas. like, seriously, just the idea of you covering your mouth in the shower, arching your back... all because of him?! everything in him is screaming to bring your fantasies to life. but he wants to respect that invisible line, between imagination and reality. you never exactly said you wanted him to do that, just that you thought of it.
thomas kisses your temple and slides a hand down your body, coming to terms with the boundary he just realized was probably there. "i'm so glad you told me."
but he cant help some of it, you're just so kissable. so he allows himself one indulgence, and kisses you slowly.
"you're beautiful." he murmurs against your lips, feeling you shiver lightly at the unprompted flattery. "so pretty. and smart. you know that?"
"thomas," you swallow, but your hand grips his neck and pulls him closer. "please."
what you're asking for, thomas has not an single clue. but when you use that tone, he'd kill a man just for you.
"yes," he matches your desperation and kisses you hungrily. "anything, yes."
thomas' grip on your hips becomes bruising as you begin to make out more explicitly, sounds of smacking and gasping and quiet sighs filling the med hut quickly. you move your hands from his hair to the front of his jeans, undoing the button without breaking your lips. thomas is grateful for the relief, as the strain was becoming unbearable the harder he would get. you're just so goddamn considerate, he'd be an idiot not to give you anything you asked for and more.
his mouth has a mind of it's own as he kisses down your neck messily, carefully guiding your head to the side enough to give him wide access so he can find your spot. it only takes him moments to make you squirm, and he spends considerable time there.
your hand, still at the button of his jeans, begins palming at his erection heavily. thomas hums, meeting you halfway with his hips before he stutters his movements and stops himself. he's embarrassed at how bad he wants the friction, the pressure. who knows what you want? just because he likes how your hand feels pressing on his dick doesn't mean you want him humping into your palm like a dog.
you whine discontentedly (even though he was so sure you liked how he was marking your neck!) and hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging him into your body ruthlessly. he pulls back to look at you, confused. what do you need? he'll give it to you, whatever it is. but he needs to be sure he's got the right idea first.
"what is it?" thomas frowns down at you, rubbing your hip affectionately.
you huff, tugging at his waistband again. "thomas, i want... i-i... i need...-"
an eruption of innocent laughter interrupts you. both you and thomas whip your heads to the curtain separating you from the rest of the world, frozen in place as you listen for who's nearby.
and, to both of your dismay, there's children setting up their own game of mother may i just outside the med hut. not exactly a great place for a steamy-make-out-turned-something-more.
thomas is the first to move, sucking in a breath and running his hands up your sides. "well."
you worry your lower lip. "yeah."
"i... i can't really, um." thomas clears his throat, eyes roving up to the ceiling. his neck and ears pinken with mortification. "you go first. don't wait up."
"oh. did you not want to walk together?"
"no! no. it's not that. i just can't... really... go anywhere. right now." he murmurs, eyes dropping down before quickly meeting your own.
your eyes fall down to his unbuttoned jeans. you blush. stare. glance back up. "ah. i see. well. i will... see you at dinner?"
"yes, of course." he smiles sweetly at your understanding.
as you begin walking away, thomas grabs your wrist and tugs you back in, kissing your hand.
"i had a lovely time. you're a great nurse." he kisses your hand again for good measure before releasing you for good, watching you walk out of the med hut and look back twice.
â
thomas rubs at his jaw absentmindedly, mind full of upcoming plans and responsibilities. the bonfire dances in front of his eyes, casting a warm glow on the haven and everyone gathered around it, eating dinner and conversing and being alive again. it's the perfect background noise for him, the buzz of safety and happiness and health. he hadn't heard it before they created this place.
his plans for reinforcing the makeshift counters in the med hut to support human weight is harshly interrupted by minho, plopping down next to him on the log he's sat on.
thomas glances at minho and his overflowing plate. they both nod shortly to one another. thinking that's the end of the interaction, thomas lets his mind wander again. they'll need to put supports underneath, some sort of beams...
"newt and frypan have a bet going." minho speaks with his mouth full.
"oh, yeah?" or maybe having them fully touch the floor, that way there's extra storage space. cabinets aren't too much work with enough hands.
"yep. if you screwed in the med hut, newt doesn't have to do chores for a week." minho picks something out of his teeth. "honestly, i thought i was the only one who noticed. tried to warn you, man."
"wait, what?" thomas blinks, turns to face minho. "you... what?"
minho takes an analyzing look at thomas' features, squinting his eyes in slight disgust. "dude. none of us are blind."
thomas is still clueless. his face must give him away, since minho goes from sorta-grossed-out to totally-making-fun in seconds. "oh, man. you don't know what i mean, do you? curing serum didn't help you remember the talk?"
"i... don't..." thomas glances around them, making sure no one is nearby to overhear. minho barks out a laugh.
"come on, thomas." minho takes a big bite of his food and nods over thomas' head, eyes flicking to someone behind him. "she showed up and it was like all the blood in your brain rushed to your..."
minho meets thomas' eyes.
"little friend."
thomas flushes, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see you press your ear to the belly of a heavily pregnant woman, smiling excitedly. "minho, tell me you're the only one who noticed."
"whatever helps you sleep at night, man." minho stuffs his mouth again, clearly unperturbed as thomas swings his head back around to gape at him. "so did y'guys get busy 'r not? we're all kinda waiting around to find out. hey, you gonna eat? food's running out fast."
"i'm good." thomas lets his eyes wander back to you as you converse easily with a few of the older women, your tank top riding up just enough to give him a peek at your lovely tummy. "uh, hey, minho?"
"yeah?"
"you... so..." thomas is slow to form words at the sight of your gorgeous hair flouncing about. "you think she'd want to do that? i didn't know... i thought it was, y'know, a guy thing."
minho laughs, clapping thomas' shoulder. it takes him a moment to verbally answer as he swallows his food, but his nodding makes thomas' heart stutter.
"oh, it's a girl thing too. trust me, they're having the same thoughts, if not worse. why do you think she took you all the way to the med hut just for some bruised up toes and a head konk? she's trying to get you to do something."
"i mean, my foot could have gotten infected. and i did hit my head pretty bad." thomas rubs the lightly sore spot as minho fixes a glare on him.
"thomas, you've been shot, drugged, stung by a griever, and jumped off a collapsing building. i really don't think some cuts and bruises are anything to worry about." minho wipes his hands on his jeans, his plate clean of any food. "besides, i bet she had to get all close and personal just to take a look at you?"
"i mean... yeah." thomas shrugs. he hadn't really thought much of it, but... well, you did press up against him, and bat your lashes in that way you do... and when he told you what to do...
oh. oh!
you were- oh wow, the whole time?!
thomas blinks rapidly at the ground, and then at minho, and then at you. and when his eyes meet yours and you smile softly, he feels like an idiot.
"yyyyyeah." minho pats thomas' shoulder lightly as you begin approaching, and thomas can feel his whole body warm. minho leaves with a "good luck, dude," and thomas can barely breathe while the whole world melts into nothing but youyouyou.
"hi." you take minho's place, and you look softly radiant in the glow of the bonfire.
"hi." thomas sighs out, stuck on every movement and shift you make. do you still want that? do you still want him?
"you didn't eat." you observe, adjusting the strap of your top.
"mhm." thomas tracks the motion, flicks his eyes back up to yours. "did you?"
your eyes narrow just slightly at the unintentional deflection, and he's enamored by the crease in your brow. the pout of your pretty lips. the way you look so perfect, he just wants to wreck you, a little. you didn't just want to imagine it? you actually wanted him to...
"yes, i did. are you not hungry, or...?"
"i'm starving." his voice drops an octave, and you bat your lashes almost on impact of the tone shift, glancing away from him.
"oh, well, there's still some fish left, and i think some corn-"
"i don't want that." he swallows, you look back at him.
he gets it now. this isn't confusion, it's not hesitance. this is a game of chess for you, and you want him to check you. to snatch up everything and leave you helpless and needy, and then finish you off.
respectfully, of course.
"but you said..." you start, and trail off when he shakes his head just slightly.
"no, i'm starving." his fingertips brush against your knee, slide barely onto your lower thigh. he holds your eyes the entire time as he caresses your knee, thumb tracing a circle. "are you?"
"thomas," you breathe out a flustered laugh, glancing around. "anyone could see."
he shakes his head again, holding your eyes when you return to him. "'s okay, we can head to bed early. if you want."
he watches you consider, deciphering the offer he's laid out. he's not sure how you do it, always reading him like a book, but it only makes him want to show you his appreciation. which... is leading him down a similar mindset. jeez, he really won't be able to shake this, will he?
"alright." you nod your head to the women you were speaking to before. "let me go say goodnight. i'll meet you...?"
"my room." he hums. it feels so illicit to sneak off like this, pretending- even to each other- that you're just tired.
thomas couldn't be further from tired if he tried.
"okay, yeah. okay." you smile shyly at him. "i'll... yeah."
and just like that, you stand and part from him. the lack of your presence makes everything seem blurry and boring, and all thomas wants to do is fast forward to the moment he has you alone. instead, he dusts off his lap and stands, scanning the beach for any watchful eyes.
minho, arm slung over the shoulders of a girl from a different sector, raises his drink to thomas and mouths, 'me too.' the girl wiggles her eyebrows playfully at thomas.
thomas nods awkwardly, pressing his lips together. other than that, he's sure no one suspects anything from the two of you having an innocent conversation. and so, he sets off.
he's out of the beach and the light as soon as possible, making a silent escape to the safety of the dark trek back to his secluded hut. he decided to keep the one that was built further away from the community enough to give him time alone; dealing with the pressure of leading the survivor colony was enough to make him want to lock himself away for a few hours everyday. plus, he liked to be up early and hated bothering anyone. especially since you're a fan of staying up late and sleeping in, and he can't stand to interrupt your rest.
the way your lashes brush against your cheeks, how you drool a little and always deny it, how sweet and heavenly your cheek looks when it's pressed against the pillow...
great, now he's thinking about you pressed into his pillow, mouth open just to gasp since he's going so hard for so long. you whine his name.
holy shit, he has no idea what he's doing.
thomas scrubs his already messy hair. sure, he's thought about this a million times. he's familiar with his right hand, he knows female anatomy, heâs had the talk! but understanding it from the outside and experiencing it from the insideâŚ
from the very inside...
swallowing, he makes his way into his hut with shaky hands and a confusing heap of arousal clouding his brain. he wants this so, so bad. but he needs to do it right.
he fluffs his measly pillows, straightens his blankets. checks the stability of his bed, does a quick smell check (clear)... what's supposed to happen? he just wants to devour you, honestly. to live out every single idea your pretty little head conjures up. he's getting a little dizzy just thinking of it. but, y'know, outside of tackling you like a bear in heat, is he supposed to... say something?
he wants it to be so perfect that nothing comes even close to comparing. he wants to make you sob with satisfaction and see stars and feel how intensely he feels about you. is there something he can do to convey that?
unfortunately, thomas doesn't have time to write a speech, seeing as he can now hear your soft footsteps not too far off. he messes with his hair and feels his nerves thrum with excitement and anticipation. oh god, he wants you.
"how's your head?" you speak quietly when you first arrive, ducking into his humble abode. your prescense snaps him out of his spiral, making his stomach swoop and his mind fuzz out for a moment.
"uh." he swallows, hesitates, before reaching out to pull you close. your skin is so soft, warm from the firelight. "it's fine."
you giggle at his clearly dumbfounded expression and move pliantly as he wraps you in his arms and buries his nose in your hair. "i probably smell like fire and smoke. not too romantic, sorry."
"you smell amazing." he murmurs, taking a deep breath in. it's true. your scent is addicting to thomas, especially when your skin is slick with perspiration and your natural scent is clear. he could inhale it for days and not get bored. "so good."
"alright, okay, you dog!" you laugh, and it only spurs him on, attacking your neck with his nose and making you shrink back from the feather-light sensation. "stop! it tickles!" you shove at his chest to no avail, as he presses you further into him the more you push and laugh. his sniffing turning quickly into kisses, peppered from behind your ear to your collarbone and back again, despite your shrieks of protest and fits of giggles.
"i can't stop," thomas growls excitedly, backing you towards the bed with little to no effort. "my girl tastes as good as she smells."
his hands on your hips are pressing, firm. he wants you make you feel his strength. when he pulls back to meet your gaze, he watches the effect take place. your eyes have a playful glint, like you're exhilarated to not be in control. he feels equally as exhilarated to be in control. then again, you hold all the influence. he only wants this so bad because he knows you want it too. otherwise, it's no fun at all.
thomas stops the two of you just as the backs of your knees touch the edge of his bed, and a silent moment of charged eye contact occurs. he feels like he's falling, his stomach dropping out from under him. his hands are starting to wander, all on their own.
"is your foot alright?" you chirp. thomas blinks.
"it's fine." he dismisses it quickly. his fingers tuck under the bottom hem of your tank top and he tugs on it gently. "i like this shirt."
you tilt your head. "so i've heard."
"it's nice." and then his hands roam again, running along your ribs and then your back with a relaxing pressure to them. as if he's trying to press the feeling into your memory. he finds the outline of your bra and traces it on your back, wetting his lips. "when'd you get it?"
your bodies sway in unison, and he watches your mouth as you speak. the words comes soft, but tinged with feeling thomas was unprepared for.
"last night." you breathe, your brow furrowing as you recall. "some of the girls wanted to trade, and i hated watching them walk around in the same clothes they were given by WCKD. it's so... unfair."
thomas frowns, eyes tracking your features as they melt into something empathetic, sorrowful. he brings a hand to your face and caresses you gently, frustrated that his hands aren't softer, that he's not built with the delicacy you deserve. he tucks a strand of your hair back and cups your cheek, meeting your eyes.
"always thinking about everyone else." thomas states as he runs his thumb across your skin. "I wish youâd focus on what you want."
you let out a disbelieving snort, giving thomas a look. "said the pot to the kettle."
he tilts his head, squinting. "what?"
"it's... never mind, nothing." pressing your soft, perfect hand over his rough one, you turn into thomas' palm. "kiss me again. please."
and thomas is never one to turn down your requests.
he zeroes in on your plush lips this time, trying to go slow enough as not to scare you. he gets lightheaded kissing you like this, so completely alone with all the time in the world and a bed right behind you. he wants to savor you, to drink your skin and lips and hair and scent in and all the same he want to pin you down and force you to beg and whine his name and tug on his hair.
he keeps it slow to feel a sense of self control. his lips slide against yours seamlessly as he guides you by the jaw to tilt your head in cadence with his own, and the way you melt into him is just perfect. heâs obsessed with the way you relax into him, drowning out all his other senses. content with just kissing you for hours and hours, if thatâs what makes you happy; anything to make you feel good.
too bad his heart and his dick are fighting for control. his hands slide under your top and across your stomach, finding their way to your bra clasp. his pants are uncomfortably tight already, his body clearly unused to his current situation.
"how..." he mumbles against your lips, fumbling with the hooks. "sorry, i..."
you let out a hushed laugh, pulling away from thomas enough to look him in the eyes as you reach around and unclasp your bra from under your tank top. he watches with parted lips as you pull off your top slowly, and then let your bra slide down your arms.
he swallows, seeming overly focused on holding eye contact.
"thomas," you slowly grin, "you can look."
he sighs with relief as his gaze dips down to your chest, pretty and perfect and all for him. his hands graze up your sides and cup your breasts, and he lets out a small "oh."
"fuck," thomas blurts, meeting your playful look with a pitifully needy one. he swipes his thumbs over your nipples experimentally. "i..."
"is- um, is it what you were expecting?" you reach out and rest your hands on his sides, just to touch him.
"better, somehow. i don't even... wow. can i-?"
"yeah. yes. 'course."
he licks his bottom lip and nibbles it softly as he examines your face, being sure that you're okay with his eagerness. he liked the tank top (no, fuck that, he loved it), but pressing his mouth to your breasts is so. much. his heart is thumping as he sucks and then nibbles softy on your hardened nipple, causing you to whine softly.
the sound alone makes his pants impossibly tighter. he switches to your other side and his movements become a tad more demanding as he tries to draw another sound out of you. and when he sucks harder than before, he's successful. you tilt your head back and whimper.
your pleasure is the hottest thing thomas has or ever will see. he steps back.
your eyes snap open and you look a bit confused and very disappointed at the suddenly ended moment. he raises his brows at you.
"since when do you sound like that?" he challenges, a cocky smirk growing on his face.
you press a hand over your eyes. "jesus, do you want me to be silent? i've never felt this before!"
"no. definitely not silent. i like it." his confidence is growing by the second, and thomas slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. "i wanna hear it again."
"oh." you huff as he kisses your tummy, running his hands up and down the backs of your thighs. his fingers slide carefully under the waist of your shorts, almost casual as he looks up at you. you nod, looking flustered and wanting and all the things he loves to see.
thomas slides your shorts off slowly, kissing along your panties. he can smell your intoxicating scent and the velvety soap you've been making, drawing him deeper into a daze for you. he looks up to find you already watching him, eyes wide and lips kiss-swollen.
"lay down?" he pats the backs of your knees softly. you oblige his request without question and lay on his bed, propping your head up on his pillows.
he returns to soft kisses over your only article of clothing left, realizing the accidental power imbalance he created when he glances up to admire your naked chest.
"oh, baby." he mumbles, sitting up on his knees over you on the bed. you hum in response before he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it across the room. "sorry. i forgot i had clothes on."
it was an honest comment, but it made you laugh. he smiles sheepishly.
"i dunno how you could. i would assume this is causing some annoyance." you sit up, sliding a deft hand over his painful hard-on. he watches your hand as it glides down his leg.
when you drop it, thomas flicks his gaze back up to your eyes. "you don't have to stop."
"neither do you." your features are focused in a way he's not familiar with, like you're determined to match his confidence. a thrill runs up his spine when you tilt your head challengingly. he smirks, and you match it with one of your own. your hand resumes palming him through his jeans, and you undo the button and zipper seamlessly.
the relief is immense. he stands up when you begin sliding the pants down his thighs so he can finish the job for you, and when you scoot forward to tug his boxers off after, he gasps.
the cool air is less shocking than the sudden sight of his dick. he's slightly embarrassed and very flushed on both heads. his mouth opens when you wrap your hands around the shaft and gently pump him once, experimentally.
"what... feels good?" you watch him through your lashes for a positive response. thomas feels as if his brain is fully submitting to his lust, at this point. "like this?"
he nods helplessly as you begin jerking him off agonizingly slow. you're an accidental tease and he's content with going insane just like this, that is until-
"fuck, holy fuck." he rambles out the moment your lips press an innocent kiss to his tip. his hands feel absolutely useless at his sides and there isn't a single filter from his brain to his mouth anymore. nor is there a filter between your mouth and his cock. you kiss every inch of him as soon as you hear his muffled moaning, spurred on by the sound of his desperation.
"y-you can't," he leans his head back and squeezes his eyes shut, clamping a hand over his mouth when you take him deep inbetween your lips. your tongue swirls around curiously and he shakes his head. "stop, please, please."
you halt immediately, pulling your lips away and dropping your hands. he looks down at you dizzily. you look up at him guiltily.
"not your fault." thomas mumbles with what little consciousness he feels he has. his hand cups your jaw comfortingly. "i didn't want to end this early. i'm... um, i'm sensitive, i think."
"you think?" your smile rests thomas' heart. good, you're not upset. he breathes out a small laugh, stroking the back of your head and leading you up to his face, where he kisses you softly.
you respond easily, and thomas takes that as you being comfortable. thank god, because he needs you relaxed and happy and every positive emotion there is to feel, otherwise he can't take this any further. he just couldn't do it.
you pull him by the neck and lay back down, guiding him to hoover over you. he's definitely nervous, completely out of his depth now. sure, WCKD educated them on health and the technicalities of intercourse, but he's got no clue how to find your sensitive spots and he can't picture the graphs that were presented to them.
he pulls away from your ongoing kiss, thumbing at your panties. "where, um..."
"it's okay." you whisper quietly. your eyes are all glassy and needy and he wants so badly to make you feel good. "you can take them off."
"no, no-" he furrows his brow, "well, yeah, okay. but i don't know how to... what to do, exactly."
"you don't know how to have sex?"
"i remember that part. but i want to make you feel... the way i did, first." he begins sliding your panties down your thighs as he explains, "i know you have a sensitive spot, but i can't remember where it is. show me."
you nod down at him while he kneels back and takes in the sight of you, fully exposed to him. his fingers slide through your wetness and he quickly finds your opening, pressing a finger inside you. "i remember... this one."
he crooks his finger and presses against a spot inside you, making you sigh. you visibly relax further into his cushions and try to close your thighs, but he catches your leg by the knee.
"not from the class i was given, though." he works the spot teasingly as he speaks. "minho gets a little too detailed when he's drunk. says this can make you cry."
his eyes flick up to your face, and he watches you while he teases you from the inside. "show me where it feels good."
"right there." you whine and nod. he chuckles quietly at you.
"no, not this spot." he slides his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and frowning at him. "show me where you touch yourself."
going quiet at the subtle callout, you take his wrist and guide him to press his middle finger against your clit. he circles it carefully and you squirm. "here. i usually... try not to go too fast, too quick. i build up."
"usually?" he raises a brow, grinning evilly. "i guess you have a lot to tell me, huh?"
you throw an arm over your face, partially because you're embarrassed at the accidental admission, partially because he's making slow, small circles against your nerves. "thomas. don't tease me right now."
"i'm not." he lies, scooting forward so that he's bracketed by your legs and sliding a finger back inside you. his finger on your clit never lets up as he starts opening you up for him, mesmerized by the sight of your slick folds.
"y'so pretty. jesus." he barely picks up pace and watches for your reaction, narrowing his eyes at your arm covering your face. "hey. let me see you."
"so much." you sigh as your arm falls. you're flushed and pleading, looking properly pent up. "your fingers are so much longer than mine, i can't ever..."
"mhm, feels good?"
"so good, yes. so good." you arch your back when he uses more pressure on your clit. he smirks proudly.
thomas has you squirming under him after he finds his way around your anatomy. he doesn't know what he was so worried about, it's not so difficult to have you how he wants you. certainly not as difficult as some of the other guys describe it. you're wet and needy and getting closer to the ledge, if your whimpers and whines are any tell, so thomas lets up on his touching and kisses your knee.
"can i...?" he mumbles against your soft skin. you huff at the abrupt ending to the pleasure but meet his eyes with a smile.
"please hurry up and get inside me."
per usual, you never have to ask him twice. he climbs over you and presses a kiss to your forehead before lining himself up.
thomas does his best to go slow, and he stops shortly after pressing his tip into you. he's going insane in his head, overwhelmed with how good it feels. he hears himself whimper in the back of his throat and your eyes snap up to his when you register it.
"that was... um," he huffs with embarrassment. "how are you feeling?'
"i'm alright," you mumble, "just... go all the way."
you don't have to ask twice. thomas sinks into you and his jaw goes slack. later, he's not sure how he didn't come immediately, because he sees stars when he first buries himself to the hilt in your perfect pussy.
"fuck," he breathes, dropping down to bury his face in your neck. "oh my god."
he's in bliss, inhaling your scent while he slowly rocks just barely to press his tip further into you again and again.
"thomas, mmm, hurts-" you gasp out. he snaps to and stumbles back up on his hands, sliding halfway out of you quickly and feeling you both pulse at the sudden sensation.
"sorry, shit, i'm so sorry baby. are you okay? i-i got carried away. i shouldn't have..."
you shake your head just slightly, a hand pressing against his chest to shut him up. he clamps his mouth shut and waits patiently as you pinch your brow together and breathe through your nose.
"it's okay," your voice is higher than usual, soaked in arousal and pain mashed into one. "you're just... bigger. than, y'know, average."
he waits a moment as you breathe, but he can feel a twinge of jealousy seeping in, even if he's halfway inside your lovely cunt and about to be more.
"...how do you know the average?"
"thomas," you roll your eyes, a good sign in terms of how much pain you're in. you're never over animated when you're hurting. "you have a big dick. i'm not talking about any other specific comparison."
"oh." thomas' pride flares in his chest, and he glances down at where you're connected. he props himself up with one hand and uses the other to massage your hip, feeling slightly guilty and slightly proud that he's rendered you helpless like this.
it's just so perfect, how you spend all day helping out everyone else, and now he gets to finally lay you on your back and help you. he licks his lips as he moves just slightly, just to see how your body responds so readily to his. how you clearly feel so much of it, giving him the incentive to make you feel good.
"okay," you sigh just as he feels you begin to relax around him. thomas meets your eyes, and you nod slightly, lips parted. you're perfect, he almost says. but you interrupt him before he can.
"thomas, fuck me."
and you both know he's eager to please.
thomas groans when he slowly sinks back into you, eyelids fluttering closed momentarily. his voice wavers when he tries to speak again "you- oh, god."
you moan right after, back arching slightly off of the bed as your hand goes to grip at his hair. his movements start out slow for your sake, trying to keep enough mindfulness to make sure it feels overwhelmingly good and not overwhelmingly painful. the hand that's not propping him up over you goes back to your clit, matching the pace of his circles with the pace of his hips. you sigh out his name and he twitches inside you.
thomas had no idea two people could be so close to each other. physically, of course, you two are connected, but he feels like you're putting your own claim on him when you tighten around him and whimper how good it feels. when you tell him to go faster, it feels like his brain is melding with yours, like he could stay here forever and feel totally complete. he gasps into your ear and rambles out something or other about how perfect you are, but he can't even hear himself over the roaring in his ears that is just you you you, you, you,you,you,youyouyouyou.
"fuck, thomas, feels so good, gonna-" you writhe pleasantly under him and he presses your chests together.
"yeah?" he huffs. "gonna cum?"
"yes," you meet his eyes and look totally wrecked. he humms loudly and kisses you to muffle a particularly loud moan building in his throat. "please, let me-"
"'m gonna, don't worry baby." he whimpers quietly as you arch under him again, his name leaving your mouth like a prayer. it makes him dizzy and he feels it in his stomach, the chord between you bending, snapping apart.
you roll your eyes back when you finish, and the sight paired with the way you grip his cock like a vice makes him release, almost too stupid to pull out.
almost.
"fuck, so good," he gasps as he hurriedly pulls out just in time to cum outside of your body. you whine at the sudden pullout, and he pops his fingers in his mouth to suck your wetness off of them before cupping your face. "sorry, i know, i know. can't get you pregnant right now."
his dick twitches at the thought.
"...but we can talk about that." thomas mumbles. you breathe out, still nonverbal after your own release. "are you okay?"
you nod, smiling up at him with eyes full of exhaustion. "sooo tired."
your voice is a little shot, probably from the whining and gasping and moaning (that he cannot stop thinking about), and thomas feels a tinge of worry in his chest.
"okay. let me clean up and you can go to sleep. okay? i'll bring you breakfast tomorrow morning, so don't freak out if i'm gone when you wake up."
you nod again, pulling him gently by the arm so he'll kiss you one last time. "i loved it. y're so hot, thomas."
he laughs bashfully and kisses all over your face, feeling your lashes flutter. he knows he needs to get some pants on and grab a rag, but it takes all of his willpower to get him away from you. he kisses down your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. he plants his last kiss to your ankle before peeling himself away. "i'll be right back."
he stumbles out of his tent, shirtless and wracked with euphoric exhaustion from a night that had been long coming. the bonfire is dim, and few people are still out when he makes his way back over to it. after scoring a damp rag and two waters, he runs into gally.
gally presses a hand to thomas' bare chest, his face filled with unrestrained disgust.
"half the bonfire was looking for you. next time, i'm not covering your ass. i'll let them hear all of that."
thomas blinks.
"oh. thanks."
gally wipes his hand on his shirt as he pushes past him, grunting in leu of a response.
thomas is mildly embarrassed that he was so incredibly horny he snuck off without saying goodnight to anyone, but his mind is still preoccupied with getting you comfortable, so he leaves those feelings at the bonfire.
you're fast asleep when he returns, but you wake when he gingerly cleans you up.
"did anyone say anthing?" you mumble when he climbs into bed to spoon you.
"nah." he kisses your shoulder. "i was pretty discreet."
you hum happily and wiggle a little closer to him, falling asleep while he softly rubs your hip.
â
posting tmr content after it got taken off of netflix... woah im super timely
hii!! could i please request a cedric lives au cedric x ravenclaw!reader smut where theyâre head boy and girl and have been close friends for a while (and are in a not necessarily secret relationship itâs just no oneâs found out about it yet)??? if not thatâs okay!!
Meet Me in the Prefectâs Bathroom ⥠| C.Diggory ⚠࣪ Ë
"They say Head Boy should lead by exampleâbut honestly, if snogging my brilliant, maddeningly gorgeous Head Girl in every broom cupboard counts as misconduct, Iâd gladly hand in my badge⌠right after one more kiss."
pairing : Cedric Diggory x fem!headgirl!reader
summary : In a sweeter timeline, Hogwartsâ golden duo canât quite hide their feelingsâor keep their hands off each other. Between secret smiles and stolen kisses, one thingâs certain: heâs utterly obsessed with her.
warnings : 18+, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, lots of fluff and banter, they're way too in love, slight risk of getting caught (but they donât care), playful dominance/submission vibes, established relationship
author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3. This is an 18+ fic, so minors do not enter!!!
della's note : Thank you so much for requesting lovie!! Hope you enjoy this lovely!!!
word count : 1.2k
navigation <3
banners : @/cafekitsune
âI swear to Merlin, if I see Filch again tonight I might throw him into the lake.â
You muttered the threat under your breath as your shoes clicked against the stone corridor. Cedric, of course, laughed softly from beside you, his hand brushing against yours in a way that was absolutely not subtle.
âDarling,â he said, voice like warm honey, âyou know youâve got a temper on you when youâre tired.â
You turned to glare up at him, mostly for show. âI wouldnât be tired if someone hadnât pulled me into a closet earlier just to snog me.â
He looked at you with a faux-innocent expression that only made him more infuriating. And hot. âThatâs slander. I pulled you into the closet to tell you how breathtaking you looked in your robes today. The snogging was⌠a happy accident.â
You tried not to smile. You really did.
Instead, you elbowed him in the side. âDiggory.â
âOh, Diggory, is it?â His voice dropped, mischief curling in every syllable. âNot Cedric, not love, not even darlingâ?â
âIâm not calling you darling in the middle of a corridor, you ridiculous golden retriever.â
He had the nerve to pout. âBut I like it when you say it.â
âYou like it when I say anything.â
âExactly. Say something filthy next.â
You slapped your hand over his mouth, horrified and delighted in equal measure. âYouâre Head Boy!â
He mumbled something behind your palm that you were fairly certain was âAnd youâre the Head Girl who moans my nameâ, which earned him a scandalized look and a slightly breathless giggle.
That was the problem with Cedric Diggory: he was way too charming for his own good. Or yours. Or Hogwartsâ collective sanity.
No one knew the two of you were together. Not really. People suspected, sure â there were bets in the common rooms, allegedly. But you two were careful. Mostly.
Except when Cedric was looking at you like that. Except when he brushed your knuckles in broad daylight, when he murmured in your ear during meetings, when he tucked hair behind your ear like he was enchanted.
Except when his mouth was now close to your ear as he murmured, âWeâre done with rounds.â
You swallowed. âSo?â
âSoâŚâ His hand slid around your waist, pulling you gently closer. âI think you owe me a reward. For being so good tonight.â
You arched a brow. âYou were good?â
He leaned in, lips grazing your neck, the touch featherlight. âWasnât I?â
Merlin. He knew what he was doing.
You let your head tip slightly, barely suppressing a shiver. âWhat exactly are you hoping your reward will be, Diggory?â
His eyes gleamed, wicked and adoring. âMeet me in the Prefectâs Bathroom in ten minutes, darling.â
Your stomach flipped. You hated him.
No. You loved him.
You were absolutely doomed.
You arrived eight minutes later, breathless and giddy, and Cedric was already there, perched on the edge of the massive tub with a stupid, gorgeous smile on his face.
âTwo minutes early,â he murmured. âI knew you couldnât resist me.â
You rolled your eyes and walked past himâonly for him to catch your wrist and tug you into his lap like it was nothing.
âCedric!â you hissed, giggling against his neck. âWe could get caught!â
âThatâs part of the fun,â he said smugly, his hands already sliding up your sides. âBesides, weâve got wards up. Youâre safe.â
His mouth was on yours before you could respondâsoft and slow, then hungry. Familiar. You kissed him back like you needed him to breathe, fingers threading through his hair, pressing closer.
His hands moved to your thighs, under your skirt, and he groaned into your mouth. âThis bloody skirt is going to kill me.â
âI could say the same about those trousers,â you muttered, tugging at his belt with a grin. âAnd youâre so smug in them.â
âBecause I know what they do to you,â he said against your collarbone, nibbling there now. âYou eye me up like youâre starving.â
âI am starving. For your silence.â
He laughedâactually laughed, breath hot on your skin. âYouâre insatiable.â
âSays the boy who dragged me here after curfew like a man on a mission.â
âOh, I am on a mission.â His voice dropped. âGet on the side of the tub, darling.â
You obeyed without hesitation, breath caught in your throat as he knelt between your legs, his large hands spreading your thighs apart.
âYouâre already wet,â he whispered, almost reverent as his fingers teased at your soaked panties. âMerlin, darling. Youâve been thinking about this all night, havenât you?â
You nodded, eyes glassy.
He leaned forward and kissed just above the fabric, slow and gentle. âLet me taste you.â
âPlease,â you gasped.
He didnât need more permission.
Cedric moved your panties aside and buried his face between your thighs like a man possessed. His tongue was hot and firm, licking a stripe through your folds before circling your clit slowly. Teasingly.
Your fingers gripped the edge of the tub as he moaned against you, sending vibrations through your entire body.
âFuck, Cedric,â you whimpered, already breathless. âDonât stop, donâtâohââ
He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right as his mouth worked your clit. His other hand gripped your thigh, grounding you, pulling you closer like he couldnât get enough.
âYou taste like heaven,â he muttered, lips swollen and slick as he glanced up at you. âMy perfect darling.â
âCedâCed, Iâmââ
He didnât stop until you came with a cry, legs shaking, hand flying to muffle your mouth.
He pulled back slowly, licking his fingers clean like a smug, gorgeous bastard. âYouâre so beautiful when you fall apart.â
âStop being hot for one second,â you groaned, still catching your breath.
âNever,â he said, standing and tugging you back to him. âNot when I have you.â
You kissed him again, messily, urgently, and he groaned as you unfastened his belt.
âNeed you inside me,â you whispered.
That nearly undid him.
He lifted you up with easeâshow-offâand backed you against the warm tile, pushing into you in one deep, delicious thrust.
You moaned in unison, your forehead falling against his. He held your waist, burying his face in your neck as he began to move.
âFuck, you feel like you were made for me,â he gasped.
âYouâre such a sap.â
âYour sap. Your lovesick, obsessedââ
ââGolden retriever.â
âExactly.â
He thrust deeper, harder, every movement making you see stars. The tile dug into your back, the sound of water from the tub filling the room, but all you could focus on was himâhis hands, his mouth, his whispered âI love youâ over and over.
âI canât stop touching you,â he murmured against your skin. âDonât ever ask me to.â
âGood. Because I wonât.â
Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him as your second orgasm built fast and desperate.
âCed, Iââ
âIâve got you,â he breathed, âCome for me again, darling. Wanna feel you.â
That did it.
You cried out his name as you came undone again, and he followed moments later, gasping against your throat, holding you like youâd vanish if he let go.
You stayed like that for a moment, tangled, sweaty, deliriously happy.
Thenâ
âDo you think theyâll revoke our badges if they find out weâre shagging in the prefectsâ bathroom?â
Cedric snorted into your neck. âIâm Head Boy. Theyâd be lucky I didnât do it sooner.â
You smacked him, giggling.
He just kissed you again, still breathless, still in love.
Summary: Everyone expects that, when it comes to sex with Cedric Diggory, heâd be as soft and kind as his words. However, after dating him for a long time, you know that he is quite the opposite in the bedroom; and, even out of it.
Words:Â 4798
Warnings:Â SMUT, public teasing, light dom/sub, light bondage, lots of explicit languageÂ
A/N: Hell here I come!Â
Requested by anonymous using
27: âTell me again.â // 46:Â âWhat happens if I do this?â
read on AO3 | Read other requested work | Masterlist
the rumours about theodore nottâs size have been circulating around hogwarts like a wild current. and now that youâve become his girlfriend, you can have your very own confirmation.
⧟ content/tw ⧽ 18+ mdni, smut with some plot, brief fingering, unprotected piv, size kink, belly bulge, girl talk about dicks, cursing, pet names including italian, fem!reader, all characters are aged up, no-war universe
⧟ nota bene ⧽ theodore nottâs redwood tree ainât hard to see, is all i have to say. yes, iâm horny.
⧟ word count ⧽ 2.5k
âOkay, babe, you have to piss off, or Iâll hex you right now and wonât care about getting expelled.â
Cho rolled her eyes at your insistence to avoid her questions, but she was far from deterred from continuing on her path to find out the truth. She nudged you with her shoulder again, harder this time, as if that could somehow shake the answer right out of you.
âCome on, you have to tell us. Itâs like, your duty at this point.â
Lavender nodded eagerly from your right side, her arms crossed on her chest in obvious determination. âYeah, you must tell us, love,â she whined in that familiar tone of hers that meant she wasnât getting what she wanted and didnât like it one bit. âWeâve been dying to know. D-y-i-n-g. Donât be a bitch.â
You shook your head in a resounding ânoâ, just a wrong breath away from stomping your foot like a fussy toddler. You loved your friends, you really did, but sometimes they were⌠Fucking insufferable, thatâs what they were. Ever since Theo had asked you outâmind you, it happened only two meagre weeks ago, which was virtually nothing in terms of romantic relationshipsâtheyâve been pestering you on and on and on about everything. Does he snore at night? Does he spoil you absolutely rotten? Is he actually Italian or just pretending for attention? This one was exceptionally stupid, even Lavender had to admit it after your astounded âWhat the fuck???â. But one of these never ending questions was the most persistent and frankly, horribly irritating: is Theo actually hung?
Of course, you werenât a stranger to the rumours circulating your newly acquired boyfriendâin fact, you had participated in them multiple times before the two of you got together. But you also knew that at least two thirds of them were just thatârumoursâand Theo wasnât half as promiscuous as the student folk liked to imagine him as. Maybe it was his mysterious (really, just introverted as hell) persona, maybe it was the ambiguous way heâd never truly denied nor confirmed them, but ever since the two of you went official, your friends were hellbent on bullying you into doing just that.
âI hate you.â Cho huffed, taking note of the fact that her tried and true tactic of being as annoying as possible until you gave up was failing spectacularly. âJust a crumb, maybe? Weâre not asking much.â
âYeah, love, just yes or no,â Lavender joined in again, resorting to her best puppy eyes to try to coax the information out of you at last.
But you were unrelenting.
âMerlin, I am not talking about my boyfriendâs dick!â you exclaimed, and maybe it was a little too loud, since a few people lingering in the corridor glancedâsome amused, some bewildered, it was embarrassing all the same.
Before Cho or Lavender could react, and it was very likely that they wouldnât stop their interrogation anyway, you felt a cool hand settle on your waist from behind. Thank you, thank you, thank you, you repeated endlessly in your head as you turned around to face none other than himâTheo, your lovely, grumpy boyfriend who was eyeing your group of three with a slightly raised eyebrow. Nonchalant, as usual, but at that moment it was an actual saving grace.
âYou ready to go?â
His smooth voice filled your ears like honey-laced liquor, and you felt every little drop of your earlier irritation melt away into the pot of lovelorn stupidity. What a sickening effect Theoâs presence had on you, you thought briefly, but quickly forgot all about thinking as soon as his hand pressed gently on your lower back, guiding you away from Lavender and Cho. They didnât really protestâprobably because neither of them had learned how to directly interact with Theo yet. Good. At least for now.
âââ
âYou want to tell me, tesoro?â
âHuh?â
Your mind felt blissfully empty before Theo asked the question, so you didnât really catch the meaning of it at first. You lifted your heavy head from Theoâs chest, where you had almost dozed off, and looked up. His expression was rather neutralâmaybe a little more relaxed than usual thanks to the cuddles you so eagerly providedâbut you could see that little hint of concern in the crease between his eyebrows. It was deeper than usual; you were getting better at learning his visual cues already.
âWhat do you mean? Tell you what?â
âWhy you were so upset. When I got you away from your girls,â Theo explained, his fingers lightly caressing your back in silent reassurance. The pleasant little shivers they sent through your body were pretty distracting, but then you remembered what he was even asking about, andâ
âUgh, nothing. Itâs stupid.â
You tried to shake off Theoâs worries, but the pout on your lips gave you away completely. It wasnât even conscious, as if your body was getting pissy about that god-awful conversation by itself all over again. Of course, he noticed, and of course, he couldnât let you bullshit him. He gave you enough cool down time alreadyâthree hours of quiet cuddling, no lessâand had to ask to ease his own anxiety about your well-being.
âI know itâs not. You know I know. So just tell me.â
You sighed, realizing he was right, that you couldnât really hide it. But fuck, it was really stupidâŚ
âCho and Lav are being fucking ridiculous,â you muttered, avoiding Theoâs gaze while simultaneously sneaking glances to check his reaction. âTheyâreâŚâ
A groan, because why on Earth was it so awkward to talk about?
âThey were asking about your dick.â
Theo stayed silent for a long moment, and you almost started to think he was getting ready to just up and leave because you had such shameless friends⌠But then, he chuckled. He rarely ever laughed, even with you, and he chose this moment out of everything to chuckle. He looked really good doing it, tooâthe dimple on his left cheek stood out like a small ray of sunshine in the dim lights of the dorm, a stray curl fell on his forehead. Theo was infuriatingly attractive.
âWhat?â you bristled indignantly, though there was a worried edge in your voice too. Was this the line? You had only been together for two damn weeks, and this was what did it?
âAmore.â Theo tried to will the smile away, but it creeped onto his lips anyway. The cute sight of it made your face light upâhe wasnât leaving at the very least, for sure. âYou were so upset about your friends taking about my dick?â
âWell, yeah,â you grumbled, trying to figure out what to make of his reaction. âYouâd be thrilled if Matt or Enzo started pestering you about my tits, Iâm guessing.â
âThey did.â Theo shrugged, like it was no big deal; with a good dose of satisfaction you noticed the barely-there tension in his jaw. âTold them to fuck off a couple of times, and that was it, pretty much. They stopped.â
âLucky you.â You sighed, shifting against his side to get more comfortable in the face of your turmoil. Your thigh brushed against Theoâs crotch, and you definitely felt something sticking out there. Didnât pay much attention, since your mind was still somewhat preoccupied. âI know itâs dumb, okay? I just hate this⌠mindset. Like theyâre entitled to know all about your dick just âcause Iâm dating you.â
âI get it.â
Theo was definitely getting turned on, you could tell by the restless way his hips shifted under your thigh. Yet he dutifully kept his composure for the sake of letting you vent. Boyfriend material, your mind immediately supplied. Good thing he already was exactly that.
âReally?â
âYeah. I really do.â
Theoâs fingers continued slowly tracing circles on your back. The movements were deliberate, soothing, letting you relax further into his touch and honestly, turning you into a bit of a puddleâboth figuratively and literally. Your own hips moved involuntarily against Theoâs thigh, the dampening spot between your legs rubbing against the fabric stuck between youâhis sweats and your pyjama shorts. Theoâs exhale was rougher this time, and yet he kept to himself for now.
âI can talk to them,â he offered quietly. âIf it bothers you so much, Iâll tell them to knock it off. Okay?â
You let out a breath, an invisible knot in your chest unraveling. It was a comforting thought, to know that your boyfriend took your concerns seriously and was on your side, not even thinking to blame you for the shit your friends were saying.
âIâm good, babe. But Iâll keep this in mind.â
You shifted up the bed to place a tiny kiss on his cheek.
âThanks,â you murmured, and it finally sounded easy. Theo mustâve felt the shift in your body, your voice, your whole demeanor, because he mirrored it entirely. He turned to his side, your hips slotting against each other like perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, and it became painfully obvious just how aroused both of you were. Youâd been suppressing the desire in favour of having the talk, but now that it was out of the wayâŚ
Love could run free.
Theo kissed you, your lips connecting softly at first, tentatively, as if he was feeling out the territory and the boundaries that he could potentially breach. Having met no resistance from your side, he deepened the kiss, one hand still resting lightly on your back as the other one cupped your jaw. It didnât go lower yet, his thumb rubbing your skin to uncoil the last remaining traces of tension, but you knew he was barely holding back. You could feel his cock harden even more where it rested between your thighs, and you couldnât help a slow roll against it.
âCazzo,â he breathed into your mouth as he twitched in response, hips grinding leisurely into yours, though he was far from lazy. âYou want that, yeah?â
Even though your damp shorts were enough of a proof, you still nodded, lips brushing his because you simply couldnât pull away. âYeah, I do. Really do.â
Theo didnât need any more words. His hand left your face and skimmed over your side, your waist, then hip, and dipped into your shorts at last. His fingers found your folds, long slick with arousal, and circled your clitâsomething he never had trouble finding. Your breathless moan into his mouth made his cock twitch again, but it wasnât his focus at the moment.
âI love how wet you get for me.â His voice was hoarse, raspyâit got like that whenever he was in the mood, and it made you that much hornier in return. âMeans Iâm doing it right, yeah?â
âYeah,â you breathed back, grinding against his hand. Your impatience was showing, and he didnât make you wait any longerâtwo fingers easily slipped into your entrance at once, squelching sounds filling the quiet of the dorm as Theo started moving them inside you.
Your lips stayed sealed together as he fingered you open, curling and pressing all the right spots he had come to know over the still-short period of your relationship. He took his time preparing you even though he could tell you were already hungry for his cockâheâd never risk hurting you if he could prevent it. But eventually his own desire started taking over as wellâof course it did when he had his girl dripping all over his hand and rubbing her thigh against his aching erection over and over again.
Placing one last kiss on your swollen lips, Theo turned you onto your back, straightening up on his knees between yours.
âYou ready?â he asked a little raggedly, palming himself through his sweatpants as he looked down at the perfect pictureâyou spread out before him, panting with arousal, hands already tugging at your shorts to get rid of them as soon as possible.
âAlways. For you, always.â
When he pulled his pants down just enough to free himself, you couldnât help itâyou stared it his cock as if it was the first time youâd seen it. He was big, you realized once againânot that you hadnât before, but it felt like the thought hit you with renewed force. Long and thick, flushed red, as if Theoâs entire blood flow rushed straight down there; pulsing veins running up the shaft and ending at the glistening tip. He was already leaking generously, and each drop of precum dripping down to his taut balls made you want to lick them all up and slurp. But now wasnât the time. Theo was set on pleasuring you tonight.
âYou like it, huh?â he murmured, lowering onto his forearms to hover just above you. âLike when my cockâs hard just for you, amore?â
The answer could never be anything other than a âyesâ moaned against his lips when he finally sank into youâslowly, carefully at first, until he was fully sheathed inside your clenching pussy. His cock throbbed insistently as he tried to give you time to adjust, groaning quietly into your mouth when he felt your warm walls gripping him just the right way.
âYouâre gonna milk me dry, love.â Theo chuckled tensely, at this point unsure if he was going to last as long as heâd want to. But when you whimpered, rolling your hips against his to urge him to move, his tight self-control snapped in half, like a thread thinned out by the burning flame of your need.
His thrusts werenât fast, but they were deepâoh fuck, were they. Each one seemed to hit a new spot inside you, echoing intensely up your spine, in your belly, everywhere he could possibly reach. Theo couldnât keep his eyes fixed on anything in particularâthey drifted over your blissed out face, then down to where your bodies connected, watching his cock slide smoothly in and out of your cunt, sweat-slick skin slapping against each other again and again. But when he saw itâthe bulge in your lower stomach that appeared and disappeared every time his felt his tip grind against your cervixâhis vision nearly blurred. How come heâd never noticed it before?
It was the hottest sight he had ever had the honour to witness.
âYou feel me? Right here,â he rasped out, one hand resting at that perfect spot where your belly rose and fell in time with his movements. You nodded, your shut eyes opening just enough to see exactly what he was talking aboutâhis cock making your flesh shift, the act itself like a claim on you he hadnât intended to lay.
âSo fucking big,â you breathed out, nails scratching Theoâs back harder when his thrusts grew sloppier, faster.
âAnd all yours,â he whispered, his lips colliding with yours in a heated kiss once more. âThis cockâs all yours, amore. Doesnât fucking matter what people say, yeah? You know you own it all.â
And when you came shamelessly all over that cock a few intense, mind-numbing seconds later, a brief thought flickered through your fucked out mindâyou owned Theodore Nottâs cock, and youâd lie if you werenât awfully, terrifically jealous of yourself.
