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When I realize I no longer have enough time to use/draw/write on Tumblr like before:
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Idk why it’s saddening me sm bro but I have no damn time for anything. I miss the years when I could scroll mindlessly through fics without any worries, no depression, and write a lotta them too- :[
ANYWAY ON A SIDE NOTE, I WAS GONNA ASK YALL- ANYBODY GOT ANY SHORT N SWEET TUMBLR Y/N FIC RECS? Marvel preferably?! :]
description: Johnny struggles to cope with his mom's addiction, but when he's on the beach late at night, he meets you, someone new, someone he doesn't need to hide his true self from.
warnings: addiction, drugs, domestic abuse, yelling, Johnnyxfem!OC, also, I changed a few things so the story fits the way I want it to be read, but overall, fluff!!
He couldn't pretend any longer. It was driving him insane, and everyone could see it. The first to notice was Gat. That morning, Johnny had been off. It was during breakfast at Clairmont, while Mirren told Cady about a guy named sexter, Gat started on about this book he had been reading, and he was in the middle of saying something about the plot when he noticed that Johnny didn't say anything. Which was weird for a multitude of reasons, one of the reasons being that Johnny hated learning, which made Gat wonder why he hadn't detested his rambling about the plot. Gat also noticed how orderly Johnny appeared; his white cardigan was neatly framed with all but one blue button done up, his shorts weren't wrinkling or untamed, but calm and swift. Gat wondered why he was so neatly put together for such a simple day, but nonetheless, that was the manner of the Sinclairs. Johnny finished eating and got up to walk on the beach when Tipper called out to him softly from the bench that sat on the porch.
"Johnny, be a dear and help me up to your grandfather's office," she said as she smiled with grace and genuineness.
"Of course," he said as he turned around and walked up the step. He offered her a hand and a gentle smile. She stood up, intertwining her arm in hers. As they walked through the doors of Clairmont, Tipper began to say something that Johnny barely caught the end of.
"There's someone I'd like you to meet. Her parents are good friends of Harris's, and their daughter plays tennis just like you do." Tipper said in a gentle, hushed manner, but not a whisper. As they got to the top of the steps, Johnny saw a man he didn't recognize leaving Harris's office. The man smiled at Tipper. She mirrored his smile and turned to Johnny.
"Dear, this is Anthony Knox," Tipper told as she gestured from Anthony to Johnny.
"Hi son, I'm Anthony. I've heard a lot about you," the man said as he held his hand out to Johnny.
"All good things I hope. I'm Johnathan, but you can call me Johnny," he said as he shook Anthony's hand.
"We should all talk in the office," Tipper said as she walked into the office and held one of the doors open for Johnny and Anthony. Johnny took light, slow steps into the office as Anthony entered behind him. Tipper shut the door and walked over to the chair behind Harris's desk.
"Johnny, Anthony is the COO for Knox Maple, and his wife is the CEO. She inherited her father's empire, and she graduated from Cornell at the top of her class. They have a daughter. We want to do a dual merge of the companies and create a media followership for Knox Maple." Tipper spoke, but Johnny felt like he wasn't hearing what she was saying until she brought up their daughter.
"So like an arranged marriage?" Johnny spoke in his moment of realization.
"Not exactly, more like a partnership. And as our partnership grows with their family, you and Korri can grow to like each other. You both want to attend Harvard and do great things, so why not do great things together?" Tipper said, as she had seemed genuinely pleased with her oration. But Johnny seemed confused. But her name had been stuck in his mind for those few seconds. Korri. A knock came from the two doors that Tipper had shut.
"Come in, dear," Tipper spoke in a delighted tone.
The door gently opened, and in walked Korri. She wore a light-washed jean skirt and a dark blue and light yellow striped shirt. She had dark brown eyes that virtually looked black in the shadows, but they emitted warmth. Her smile was as white as the snow on the awning of Mount Everest. She had chocolate brown braids, and the ends held the most effortless curls that bounced as she walked in.
"Korri, this is Johnny. Johnny, this is Korri." Tipper said as she and Korri's dad got up. He put his hand on Korri's shoulder and nodded at her. She gave him a half-hearted smile, and he walked out with Tipper. The door closed. Johnny sat in the chair across from Harris's desk with his hands in his hair. He stood up and walked close to Korri, but not too close. Keeping a comfortable amount of distance between them.
"So, I hear you played tennis?" Johnny declared as a wicked grin crept onto his face.
"Yeah, I do, I also do debate and run track,. And I read on my free time." Korri remarked. Johnny then opened the door and walked out before turning to Korri.
"So you're a nerd?" he said as he grinned brightly.
Korri rolled her eyes and turned to Johnny.
"You comin'?" he asked wickedly.
Korri followed him out, and Johnny turned the corner and picked up her bags from the floor outside of office.
"We're gonna drop your stuff off at Redgate, and then we'll go and introduce you to my mom and Ed. Then you'll meet Cady, Gat, and Mirren. But don't think you're escaping that match you owe me," he said as he smiled in her direction.
"Deal," Korri said as she returned his wicked grin. Although his eyes said something that opposed his grin, something genuine that he had been hiding from everyone on the island. Maybe Korri would find out.
Lmk if y'all would be interested in a part 2. Or maybe I could make this a series, idk lol. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know if you'd like more. See ya laterrrrrrrrr.
SOOOOO im back and I watched all of the hunger games and im looking forward to buying the books but wow. So first of FINNICK MY BABY, and hijacked Peeta looked scary like he genuinely hated Katniss. But WORST OF ALL PRIMMM. Katniss unknowingly started an entire revolution for her sister, just for her to die anyways. Like wth. Also Tom Blythe looked so GOOD as Snow but I hate snow. I hate snow so much. I wish we got a book on Annie and on how her and Finnick fell in love. One thing that actually ruined me is probably how fast they glossed over Finnick being sold at 14, he’s so precious I just wanna cry for all of them. AND RUE. SHE WAS TOO PURE TO DIE. I HATE THAT SHE DIED THE WAY SHE DID. But on another note Haymitch brings so much comedic relief like I was so sad during Katniss’s speech about Rue and then when they went into that building and Haymitch was telling Katniss he couldn’t help her through the tour I wanted to laugh so bad. He’s such a diva. I literally couldn’t have a favorite character after Finnick died though like his death was pure pain and despair i wanna cry just thinking about it. But those are my thoughts so far. I wanna read the books sooooo bad. Have a good day thanks for reading my rant. Byeeeee
MDNI : smut, tit sucking, riding, caught, lingerie, and a hint of mean Noah
Fratboy!HalloweenLover!Stiles, who drags you along to the nearest party city to buy fake blood and clown costumes to scare his dad and Scott when he visits.
Fratboy!HalloweenLover!Stiles, who buys you a salacious pumpkin dress. (hear me outtttt). The dress fits tightly, stopping just above the mid-thigh. It's orange and features a black outline of a jack-o'-lantern. Stiles liked to find "costumes" for you guys to use in the bedroom, around Halloween time.
"Are you serious?!" you remarked as Stiles stood in front of you, gripping the tip of a hanger. You looked the dress up and then down before sighing.
"Stiles, why would I put that on?" you sighed in irritation.
"Come on, I only ask you to do this on Halloween," he begged as he began to slightly pout in front of you. Your laptop shut with a slight slam as you stood up from his bed and took the dress from his hands to further examine it.
"No, last Christmas when the incident ensued, I refuse to let that happen again," you spoke, beginning to reminisce about last year's Christmas.
*Flashback*
It was the day before Christmas Eve. Stiles asked Noah if you could stay with them for Christmas since your family wasn't the most reliable. Noah agreed, even though it always baffled him how Stiles got with such a sweet girl like you. It was winter break, and school was out for the holidays. It was around 8pm. You and Siles had just gotten done investigating the victims of the Ghost Riders. He told you he had a gift for you. Stiles had bought you this https://pin.it/1PAItWK9X.
Автор пина:Bella Frick. Находите и прикалывайте свои пины в Pinterest!
'Stiles, I don't know about this. What if your dad comes home?' you said, worried that you'd get caught in this lewd act.
'He said he'd be at the station all night, so let's take advantage of this time that we have together,' he said as he slowly placed the Christmas-themed bag into your hand.
'Okay, but nothing too weird,' you said as Stiles walked back to his room after handing you the bag.
You began to change as you pulled the straps over your bare shoulders. Stiles sat in his room waiting for you in nothing but his boxers. You were in the bathroom making sure everything fit right.
" Everything okay in there?" he yelled as he started to fear that you realized that he's a crazed sex freak who can't keep it in his pants. But he remembered that you are too, and that calmed him. You slowly walked down the hall and into his bedroom. Stopping at the door frame as he looked up at you from his seat on the bed. (I'm really bad at writing smut, so just bear with me, y'all).
'Oh my,' Stiles said as he looked you up and down and up and down again. You walked closer to him, and soon you were standing between his legs as he sat on the bed. He grabbed the backs of your thighs and pulled you to sit on his lap. His hands traveled up to the nape of your neck as he gently pulled you down to kiss him. It was a soft and sweet kiss, yet it still held the raw passion and hunger behind your tongues as they gently nudged each other. He used his unoccupied hand to grab your hips and grind you against him. You slightly moaned into the kiss as your hands went anywhere from under Stiles' shirt to his happy trail that he kept unshaved just for you. Eventually, you fell into Stiles' rhythm and began to grind your hips down harder. Both of you moaned into the kiss just before you detached your lips. You both shared a longing look of horniness and excitement. He leaned in to continue the kiss, but you grabbed the hem of his shirt and helped him pull it over his head. He used one hand to pull you closer while the other worked its way underneath the panties of your lingerie set.
'Mmmhm-mmh Stiles wait,' as soon as those words fell from your lips, he retracted his hand from your underwear and let it sit on your waist with his other hand.
'What's wrong, do you think this is too weird?' he asked as he looked up at you to try and find some sort of hint to see what you were feeling.
'What, no, I was gonna ask if you had a condom?' you said reassuringly as his hand began to travel back to your nether region.
'We don't need one. I'll just pull out,' he said in a joking manner, but you weren't taking any risks.
' Yeah, no, I refuse to be a potential victim of teen pregnancy and ruin my life before it starts,' you said irritably as you got off of him.
'Wait, I'll find one,' he said as he hurried out of the room and made his way to his dad's room. You sat there looking at his whiteboard with clues and questions, and a lot of red string going from picture to picture. He rushed back in 4 minutes later with an XL condom. You looked at the packaging trying to suppress your giglgles. He put the condom on the nightstand and walked over to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to sit on the bed as he stood over you. He slowly leaned down and your lips reunited once again igniting the buring fire of your lips and tongues gently smashing together as if you're becoming one. He gently used on hand to push you back as he got on top of you and began to grind into your thigh. He softly whimpered into the kiss and your hand spanned across his toned abs and then down, slight skimming the hair of his trail that was only there because you loved to lick a stripe up it. He started to kiss fown you collar bone as he gently bit and sucked at the skin. He moved from behind your ear to your neck to your tits. He started to grope you and he kept grinding on your leg. He flciked his tongue acorss your nipple just before he sucked it all the way into his mouth. He looked up at you as his drool fell from his mouth and onto your thighs. He moaned around your tit in his mouth.
'Stiles-oh-we should hurry before-' and just like that, he quickly pulled off of you and grabbed the back of your thighs and flipped you over so that you'd be on top of him. But instead of being directly on top of his dick (lmao I love saying dick), you were sitting facing away from his headboard with your asscheeks on his chest.
'Sit on my face-mmh-please,' he said, whimpering in between as I began to undo his belt.
You were taking his belt off as he was unclipping the red lace thong from your lingerie set, you're so busy trying to strip eachother of the little clothing you have that when you finally unbuckle his belt and start to pull his pants down along with his underwear you thought you heard keys but you just chalked it up to the neighbors coming home from chrsitmas eve dinner. That is, until the door swings open from its previously cracked position. And in comes Noah.
"OH MY GOSH- DADD-" Stiles shouted as I clumsily climbed off of Stiles and hid under the sheets.
"I M SO SORRY, Mr. STILINSKI!" you said, not being able to tell if you were going to cry or scream in embarrassment.
"Get dressed, then come to the living room!" Noah said as he looked down, sighing after closing the door.
"And please come decent," he said from the living room.
"Well, we didn't get to come, and it wasn't exactly decent." Stiles joked as you sat there contemplating what the repercussions could be. You put on your underwear, a pair of Stiles' underwear, and one of his graphic tees as Stiles reached into his closet and grabbed a pair of black sweats and a grey shirt. You walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. You both sat across from Noah on the couch.
"I'm just gonna get this over with. Use condoms, I don't want to be a 39-year-old grandfather. And please refrain from any of that stuff when I'm home." Noah said as he struggled to keep eye contact.
"Dad can I talk to you?" Stiles said as he looked at his dad across the coffee table.
"I'm gonna go make hot cocoa." You said you were trying to get out of that extremely awkward situation.
REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share/save.
| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |
“Stop squirming around, would you?” Stiles huffs in frustration from behind you.
He's been like this for an hour, sitting between your spread legs, long fingers groping and rubbing and kneading at the doughy flesh of your backside. It had started out innocent enough, his restless hands gravitating to your ass while you'd been sprawled on your belly getting some reading done for one of your courses, but he'd gotten increasingly more distracting as time went on.
His hands had eventually slipped beneath the revealing cut of your sleep shorts to touch bare skin, calloused fingers dragging over soft flesh and the thin cotton of your underwear. Rather than simply sitting criss-cross between your thighs, he's upgraded to laying on his stomach, one arm curled beneath your leg so he can prop his chin on one of your thighs while his fingers continue to squeeze and massage.
He was right, you had begun to squirm. It was getting incredibly difficult to ignore the heat that his attention was causing to pool between your thighs.
“Since when are you an ass man, anyway?” You question as you finally give up on reading all together, trying and failing to peek over your shoulder to get a good look at him, “You've always been more of a boob guy.”
“I resent that,” Stiles is quick to defend, the pad of his thumb tracing the crease where your ass meets your thigh, “I like your ass just as much as I love your tits.”
You can't quite hold back a scoff at the blatant dishonesty and he's quick to correct himself.
“-alright, maybe I favor your tits a little, but- Oh my god, will you sit still?” Stiles snaps in mild irritation when your thighs try to clench instinctively but are unable to do so given the person currently wedged between them.
“What are you even doing back there?” You ask, voice thankfully only sounding a little affected, “You know, aside from admiring my ass and groping me.”
Your hips shift a little against the mattress and you know just by the brief moment of silence before his response comes that Stiles has noticed.
“Why?” He seemingly perks up in interest, voice pitching in a self-satisfied little drawl. His thumb dips between your thighs while he tightens his palm around you again and the digit comes achingly close to brushing against the wet patch you know has formed in the crotch of your panties, “'s'it workin' you up?’’ He questions eagerly.
“Yes.” You huff and squirm again, but there's a sharp sting on the meat of your ass, a hard pinch that makes you yelp in surprise and pain, “Did- Did you just bite me?” You ask in breathless incredulity.
Another painful pinch to your skin is the only response you receive. Stiles gives the flesh a hard suck before releasing it from his mouth and this time you're pushing up with one hand when you look over your shoulder, eyes roaming over his mischievous little grin, his full pink lips, the way that his fingers have tugged the fabric of your shorts up over the curve of your asscheek to display the evidence left behind.
“Jesus christ. Stiles! Look at what you did, what the hell-”
He looks annoyingly smug as his thumb drags over the place where his teeth have carved little indents into your skin, one of them already threatening to darken into a bruise where he'd sucked a hickey into the flesh.
“I dunno, I think it looks pretty fuckin' good.” He grins, exuding cool nonchalance right up until you catch the way that his hips roll down against the mattress to provide a little relief to his stiff cock.
“If you wanted to work me up, you could've just left a few marks on my thighs and gone down on me,” You flip your textbook closed with a huff, “Y'know, if you wanna get a little territorial or whatever. 's fine, it's hot, but there are much better ways to mark me up-”
His hand comes down on your ass in a light slap and you give him a half-hearted grumble about that not being what you meant, but he's already putting more pressure on his hand as he pushes up, and then his weight is gone completely.
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t actually mean that one-” He apologizes as he tumbles from the bed in a mess of long limbs.
“What-” You start to roll onto your side to watch him, but the shout he sends over his shoulder as he digs through a drawer at his desk has you freezing.
“Don't move! Alright? I mean it!”
You settle back onto your stomach dutifully, propped up on your elbows as your gaze leaves his frantic search to re-open your textbook with a sigh, “What are you doing now? What're you even looking for?”
“You'll see. Now, quiet.”
His admonishment meets your ears sounding oddly garbled, like he's trying to speak around something in his mouth, and you make to turn toward him in curiosity, but he's already climbing back in between your thighs and giving your right asscheek a light slap in reprimand for moving. He tugs your shorts and underwear down your legs in one go and you can't help but crane your neck now, but the moment your torso twists to get a better look, he firmly pushes your hips back down onto the mattress, a wide palm spreading out over your skin to hold you in place.
Your heart pounds in excited anticipation at the feeling of your lower half being exposed while he's still fully clothed. Again, you try to clench your thighs together for just the little bit of friction the action normally provides, but there's not much relief with the way Stiles has you spread around him.
Something soft and cool meets your recently exposed skin, the texture difficult to place as it drags smoothly across the roundness of your backside.
“What's that?” You question, fighting the urge to wriggle in response to the peculiar feeling.
“Marker.” Stiles says easily, his voice taking on that edge it gets when he's focusing hard on something.
A soft snort of amusement leaves you as your palms fall to brace on the glossy pages of your textbook, “You're drawing on my ass?”
“Not.. Exactly..” He mumbles distractedly.
Another huff falls from your lips as the cap of the marker gives the telltale little click that indicates he's finished with his mysterious artwork, “Sti, seriously-”
A quiet groan cuts you off, the sound of it familiar and wholly erotic as it rumbles up his throat.
“Christ.. Fuckin' look at you..” Stiles groans, the pads of his fingers tracing over the ink on your skin.
You nearly shiver, goosebumps threatening to pebble along your skin in response to the gentle brush of his fingers across your ass. You make to ask him a question — to please just touch you where you want him, to tell you what he's drawn on your skin, to let you turn around so you can climb into his lap and devour him — but he's speaking again before you can form more than the garbled beginning of an ‘um-’.
“God, it is insane how hot that is,” Stiles grumbles as he dips down and his mouth finds the meat of your asscheek again, biting down softly this time and giving a small suck to the skin that has you nearly writhing, your fingernails scraping across the glossy pages of your textbook. His lips release you with a pop and his thumbs find the crease of your backside, spreading you and giving another little groan at the sight of your cunt shining with arousal. “Shit, I really was working you up, huh, baby? So fuckin' wet right now.”
“You've been groping me for the past thirty minutes,” Your assessment comes out a little breathless, an embarrassingly weak sounding thing, “What were you expec- ohh.. Ho-oh my-”
You're interrupted when he sinks a finger inside of you without preamble, pumping only twice before another joins the first and stretches you a little harder. It's an all-too easy glide, two of his long fingers pumping within your walls in smooth strokes with the aid of just how wet you truly are.
“Well shit, I'm sorry, babe,” Stiles says, genuine apology in his words that are dripping in an aroused sort of surprise, “Didn't mean to leave you hanging, and on our anniversary no less. If I'd known you were wound this tight I would've fucked you twenty minutes ago.”
The innocence in how he says it contrasts sharply with the actual filth spilling from his mouth and it has you reeling a bit, your ass pitching up and spine arching just a little to better the angle of his hand. You're so focused on the drag of his knuckles against your sensitive walls that you almost miss what he'd said beforehand.
“Wh-ah.. Wha'd you say?” You gasp, “Our annivers-uh!- 'versary?”
There's a sharp smack as he slaps the unmarked cheek of your rear, his lips pressing a quick kiss to soothe the warmed flesh before speaking, “Cannot believe you don't know that today marks six months since we started doing this-”
This, of course referring to the addictive situationship you've both found yourself in behind closed doors, in secret from the pack consisting of your friends and family, behind your brother's back.
“-You're gonna hurt my feelings, sweetheart, honestly.”
“Didn't.. Didn't realize.” You pant, a keening exclamation of ‘oh my god’ slipping past your lips when you feel Stiles push a third finger into your entrance, the stretch sending your eyes rolling back and your mouth dropping open with a keening whine.
“And to think,” Stiles starts slowly, his voice rumbling with clear arousal in his throat. There's a lewd squelch as his fingers drive in and out of your soaking cunt, a breathy moan punched out of your lungs when his fingers curl to reach that spot that makes your brain turn to mush. “To think I was gonna be so good t'you later. Was gonna let my girl ride my face for as long as she wanted, longer than she wanted probably, if we're bein' realistic-”
“Fuck..” His words have you moaning high and wrecked and unashamed. Stiles twists his fingers as he pulls them out and then thrusts back in, wide knuckles pulling a keening whine from you. “Please, fuck, Sti-”
“What's wrong baby? My fingers aren't good enough for you?” His voice is dripping with that teasing lilt that makes you weak in the knees. Right now, it makes you lift your hips from the mattress just a little bit more.
“So unfair-” You gasp.
“Unfair?” Stiles repeats in a slow drawl, “Baby, no offense but I'm the one rockin' a painfully neglected hard on right now,” His fingers push in to the third knuckle, his hand driving in so deep that it has a pleasurable ache building between your thighs. “Meanwhile, you've got three fingers stretching you out. Seems like you got it pretty good, to me. What more could you want, huh?”
His fingers are heaven, and he knows exactly how to use them, knows exactly where to aim and how hard and fast you like it, but you still need more. He's not touching you enough. His fingers in your cunt and his weight between your thighs isn't nearly enough to satisfy the need building up and twisting tight in your belly. You want his weight to crush you into the mattress, need his cock to give you that extra stretch that his fingers can't, need his sweat on your skin and his hands on your breasts-
“Please,” You whimper again, “Babe, please, c'mon, need you inside me.”
You probably should've been expecting the easy snark that spills from his mouth in response.
“I am inside you.” He replies all too smartly, repeatedly rubbing that tender spot on your inner wall until tears actually prickle at your eyes, a sharp sort of pleasure burning in your gut.
“Stiles.” You demand desperately.
Your pleading seems to finally break his resolve and his mouth finds the heated skin on the back of your thigh. He places a small kiss to the curve of your ass, then the dimples at the base of your spine. His lips make a slow trail up, small kisses left behind on his journey to the curve of your neck. Stiles pulls your hair to the side and leans in to taste your exposed skin, his fingers finally slipping from your cunt so that he can pull you up onto your knees, your back falling against his chest as you both sit up.
“Wha'd'you need, babe, huh?” Stiles murmurs the question over the shell of your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine as it fans out over your overheated skin, “You know I'll give you whatever you want.”
He holds you to his chest with one arm locked around your waist. His right hand leaves a scorching trail across your tummy on its way to your cunt, fingers dipping between your dripping folds and collecting a bit of your arousal before moving back up to circle your sensitive clit. The glide of his fingers is slick and intoxicating, a breathy gasp leaving your lips as your head falls back onto his shoulder.
“This all you wanted?” Stiles asks, voice a whisper against your skin, “Just wanted me to play with your clit? Is that all?”
You shake your head, brows furrowing and hips bucking into his touch.
“No?” He questions, lips finding the spot just behind your ear, “What'd'you need then, babe? You gotta tell me.”
One of your hands reaches back to grab the back of his thigh, fingers coming into contact with the soft material of his lounge pants as you tug his hips to yours. You can feel the length of his erection pressing into you through the thin layers of his clothing, his cock warm and stiff where it presses into the curve of your ass.
“Need.. Need you t'fuck me,” You pant, his fingers already so close to pulling an orgasm from you as he continues to play with your clit, “God, please, Stiles. I want you inside, please, please-”
“How 'bout you come for me and then I'll let you have it, huh?” He murmurs against your skin, his hips bucking forward into yours in a teasing thrust as the euphoric heat beneath your skin spreads further. “You're close, aren't you?”
A pathetic whimpered excuse of a ‘yes’ slips past your parted lips, your free hand reaching back as well to grab ahold of the back of his neck. Your grip is tight as your climax begins to crest, fingernails digging into the top of his spine as a wanton moan is forced from your throat.
“Just gimme one now and I promise I'll fuck another one outta you, okay? Come on-”
You come so hard that your legs give out, the arm Stiles still has curled around your waist forced to tighten to keep you against his chest, his bicep bulging as he supports your weight through the throes of your orgasm. His fingers slow against your clit as you come down before stopping all together, his slick hand sliding up to rub soft along your tummy as you pant in exertion.
He gives you a moment to recover, but you're still breathing heavily by the time he presses a kiss to your cheek and urges you down on all fours. You assume the position easily, resting on your elbows with your sweaty forehead stuck against the pages of the textbook still spread out on the bed. Stiles strips down as your heart rate struggles to slow, the mattress moving under his weight a few times before the warmth of his body settles behind you again.
“You good, baby?” He checks softly, one wide palm running up the length of your spine to rub at your shoulder.
“'m good, 'm good, just hurry up.” You plead, arching your back when his hand trails back down. His thumb and forefinger pinch your backside, an effective reminder of the ink he'd stained your skin with, “Never told me what you drew on my ass.” You laugh quietly, wiggling your hips in the hopes of enticing him into picking up the pace of things.
“Oh,” Stiles chuckles, thumbnail dragging over the ink as he grabs ahold of his cock and guides the head through your slick folds, “Wrote my name.”
Your responding laugh comes out in a breathy burst of air as he teases your entrance, pressing the tip in only to pull back and run it along the length of your wet cunt again.
“My.. My ass says ‘Stiles’?” You question through a body-wracking shudder when he teases his tip at your entrance again, pressing in just far enough for you to feel the stretch of his fat cock before he's pulling out all over again, the head bumping your swollen clit on the next pass through your folds.
“Stiles? No way, babe. I went full-name for this one. Mark-h.. ohh..” He stutters through his words the next time he presses in, letting the first couple of inches push into the tight heat of your cunt, “Marked my property accordingly n' all that.”
You swallow down a moan as the head of his cock drags against your sensitive walls, already fluttering around his length as your fingers fist the bedspread in a white-knuckled grip.
“Oh, fuck off,” You gasp in mild incredulity, “Your property?” You bite back, though the thought of the image admittedly prompts a swarm of butterflies in your tummy.
“Mhm,” Stiles hums a little breathlessly as his restraint wavers, pushing in another inch or so as his grip on your hip tightens, “Don't act like you don't think it's super hot. My name marked on your skin-”
“Shut up,” You scoff weakly, “I do not.. Don't think it's hot.”
“Sure, babe,” Stiles agrees condescendingly, “Wanna write yours on my ass after we're done? Equality n' all that.”
“Somehow, I'm not sure having McCall scrawled across your ass cheek is gonna have the same effect, even if it's got my name in front of it.” You manage before rocking your hips back to force more of his cock in.
“Fine, fine,” Stiles huffs, “But don't say I didn't offer-”
“God, will you just shut up and fuck me alread-”
You're effectively cut off when Stiles drives all the way in with a hard thrust, a loud moan tearing from your throat.
“Better?” Stiles asks, already breathing a little heavy as he sets a punishing pace, the sound of skin slapping skin with each smack of his hairy thighs against the smooth backs of your own.
“Yeah. Yeah, fuck, like that-” You cry out in whimpered praise, “Harder. Sti, please, need it, harder.”
His only response is a groan as he pounds into you with redoubled effort, the thick head of his cock hitting your cervix in a hard jolt with each thrust.
It doesn't take long for you to begin to fall apart all over again, Stiles' fingernails biting into the skin at your hips as he tugs you back down onto his cock again and again.
“Feel so fucking good.” Stiles groans as you fuck yourself back in time with his thrusts.
A gasp tears past your lips when he slips an arm underneath you and drags you up until your back is flush with his sweaty chest again, the angle of his cock changing just enough to have you letting out a drawn out moan.
Your thighs settle on either side of his as he continues to pound up into you and then his hand is finding your face, forcing your head to the side so that he can draw you into a heated kiss. Your hand ensnares his wrist to hold Stiles' in place on your jaw, his fingers pressing into the sensitive spot beneath your ear as your mouths work in a sloppy mess of tongues and teeth and hot breaths.
His sweat-slicked forehead drops against yours, his cock managing to hit all of the right places as his thrusts slow slightly, each one a slow drag against your sensitive walls.
“God, you.. You look so fuckin' pretty like this.” Stiles tells you with another lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth.
The white-hot flame in your gut has you trembling in his arms and you reach back to tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, the soft strands trapped in an iron-tight grip as your back arches, your own head falling back against the curve of his shoulder.
“Stiles-” You whimper desperately, fingers tightening impossibly further around his sweat-damp hair.
He pants into your mouth, each of his slow, deep thrusts prompting obscene sounds from the place where the two of you are joined.
“You close, babe?” He asks breathlessly as he tries to hold off his own steadily approaching end, “God, I need you t'come. Need more? Need me to touch you, baby?” He questions in a rasp, ever attentive and desperate to please you as he always is.
Before you can even respond, he's already switching the placement of his hands on your body so that he can drop his right one down to cup your heat. His big hand finds the wetness between your thighs, fingers zeroing in on your clit with the sort of effortless precision that can only come from months intimacy, from hours upon hours spent learning every inch of your body, studying your reactions to his touch with a hyper-focussed intensity that was just so Stiles.
You cry out at the feeling of his fingers rubbing you with practiced movements, his cock driving against that spot inside of you only a handful more times before you're bearing down on him, mind whiting out with the toe-curling euphoria that takes over your body. The shaky moans that Stiles pushes from your lips as he keeps fucking into you are something that you'd be horrified to hear come from your own mouth if you had the brain capacity to process them through the fog of your orgasm — but as it is, they tumble from your throat freely, your body trembling against the tight cocoon of Stiles' arms curled around your ribs as he supports your weight.
Your ears are only just beginning to hear sounds beyond the high-pitched ringing brought on by the strength of your climax when Stiles' thrusts begin to falter. The jerky slap of his hips against the backs of your thighs, his heavy breaths into the curve of your neck.
His fingers find where yours are still tangled in his hair and he tries to pry your grip away, “Baby, baby 'm gonna come,” Stiles moans in warning, “Wanna come on your ass. Please. Please, baby, I wanna-”
You pitch forward easily, dropping onto your elbows with shaking arms and arching your back enticingly for him. Stiles groans loud at the sight, the sound of it getting caught in his throat as he pulls out and begins to jerk his cock in earnest. Lewd, slick noises fill the room over the sounds of your labored breathing, the wetness that coats him aiding the smooth drag of skin on skin as he fucks into his fist with a gut twisting sort of desperation.
With a little wiggle of your hips, you encourage him despite still being a little breathless, “Come on, Sti, give it to me. Paint it right there on your name-”
“'m gonna,” He promises in a weak groan, the fingers of his free hand biting into the plush flesh at your hip with a bruising grip, “Gonna fuckin'.. Shit, 'm gonna put it right there. Gonna.. Gonna mark my girl up so.. So fucking good. Fuck.. Fuck, I love you. Loveyouloveyouloveyou, I'm, shit, 'm coming-”
Your mind is reeling a little bit in the wake of his lust-fueled admission, the dull beat of your heart echoing with his words as the warmth of his come meets your skin, dripping down the curve of your ass in thick ropes.
Stiles plasters himself to your back as he catches his breath, entirely uncaring of the mess of bodily fluids between you as lays down on the bed and pulls you into his chest. His breath falls against the sweat-slicked skin of your neck in warm puffs while his voice rings in your ears still — the memory of those words, the wrecked rasp of them slipping past his lips.
Loveyouloveyouloveyou.
I love you.
You twist around in his arms, late-afternoon sunlight coming in through his bedroom window displaying the pink flush that lingers on his mole-speckled cheeks. Your head drops against the pillow currently underneath his own while your knee pushes between his hairy thighs, brown eyes finding yours, Stiles' gaze soft and sated.
“I love you too.” You whisper through the nerves twisting in your stomach.
A wide array of emotions flicker across his face, initial confusion quickly melting away into a relieved sort of surprise.
“Holy shit,” Stiles breathes, wide palm coming up to cover your jaw. His thumb swipes the apple of your cheek with smooth strokes and his eyes flick quick between yours, his lips pulling into a grin that dimples cutely in his cheek, “I can't believe I- Shit. No, I do though, I.. I love you.”
“I love you.” You repeat in a daze, fingertips tracing idle circles through the dark patch of hair at the center of his chest.
“Does that mean you're gonna let me do this again when my name eventually washes off?” He asks with a mischievous little grin that makes your insides twist warmly, his brows jumping up his forehead playfully.
“You're an annoyingly territorial little shit, y'know that?” You laugh softly before your brows are drawing together in slow confusion, “Wait. Wha'd'you mean eventually? Why'd you say it like that?”
“Well, y'know, I used a sharpie, so-”
“You used a permanent marker?” You repeat incredulously, pinching his skin between your thumb and forefinger a little meanly as your nose scrunches up, “Such a dickhead.”
Stiles gives you a grin that spreads wide across his face until you can see those very same perfectly straight teeth that have left bruising love bites into the soft flesh on your backside. He dips his head and his lips find yours, the salty tang of the sweat clinging to his upper lip meeting your tongue as he speaks into your mouth with easy confidence.
me cause I think I’ve read every single stiles stilinski fic I could find… smutty, fluffy, and angsty I’ve read them all… I’ve read from friends to lovers all the way to enemies to lovers. I’ve read all the ones from 2015 all the way to ones written yesterday. I’ve read from 300 words to upwards of 25,000+ words. I swear im gonna start writing because I. have. read. them. all.
Hey guysss so I kinda freaked out and rewrote the entire story and I hope it’s still good. I’m just kinda scared to post it because it’s my first one ever and I feel like I’m over exaggerating it. Idk yall someone pls just tell me what to do.. and ontop of that I was thinking of making a part two but I shouldn’t until I post the og😞
I'm almost done with my first Stiles story and I'm so excited for you guys to read it. I want to get it done by tonight but that can only happen if I'm productive today so we'll see. Also when I do upload it pls give me as much feedback as possible so I can improve and please please try to keep it respectful. Thank youuu byee guys.
