#stalia week

[menyc1ty]

Stalia week [1/7] - Fave Malia Moments 

[fystalia]

Stalia Appreciation Week: Saturday 22nd July - 29th July 2017

I think Stalia deserves a farewell, a huge thank you from the fans who are still committed to this day!

Don’t worry, this isn’t a commitment thing! You can do one if you like or all of them! And if you miss the date, it’s fine, you can do it afterwards, latecomers are always welcome! Just make sure you tag everything “Thankyoustalia” within the first few tags - No spaces! And it will be reblogged!

You can either stick to edits or stick to fanfictions, do both or do a mixture of both!

Gifs/Edits:

July 22 → Favourite Malia Moment(s)

July 23 → Favourite Stiles Moment(s)

July 24 → Favourite Stalia Episode

July 25 → Favourite Intimate Moment

July 26 → Favourite Stalia Quotes

July 27 → Favourite Overall Stalia Moment

July 29 → Favourite Stalia Song (Can be from the show or you’re own personal presence.!)

Sentence Fanfiction Prompts:

July 22 →  “Are you still awake?”

July 23 → “What the hell is that?”

July 24 → “You’re a nerd, but hey, you’re my favourite nerd.”

July 25 → “Come on, I know and love you. I know when you’re worried about something..”

July 26 → “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that.”

July 27 → “Hey, you alright? You’re looking a little pale.”

July 29 → “I’m in a wedding dress!”

Just make sure tag it - “Thankyoustalia”

Any queries ask or send a direct message to my primary page @bisexualmctatenski (Liberty)

[alphascottmccall]

Stalia Week: Day 6

colours: ...blue’s just pretty

[kaycares22]

One Last Pup Preview

[braedens]

131. ”This is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here.” AND/OR 133. ”Okay, when you say love, do you mean love as in like loving pizza or as in love, love?” for staliaweek ;)

YES YES YES YES

ok so i know the prompt today is favorite episode so I’m going to connect it to my fav stalia episode, 4x10, when they make up from their fight in the hospital.

“What is that?”

Okay, Stiles should have knocked. Or called. Or, like, made a plan. But he’s really bad at planning when his mind is racing in sixteen different directions. Especially now, standing in Malia’s doorway at her dad’s house, which he’s only ever been in twice. 

“It’s an apology pizza,” he gestures with the box in his hand.

Malia seems disdained to indulge in this conversation but she rolls her eyes and gets up from her bed anyway. “An apology pizza?”

Stiles nods, like this is a normal, everyday occurrence. 

“Yeah. It’s like, a pizza, with an apologetic preface.”

It’s just getting dark outside; day spent mostly finding answers behind the dead pool with everyone’s names on it. 

Malia’s standing in front of him now, arms crossed. “You already apologized to me earlier, remember? In the hospital. There was kissing.”

Stiles smirks a bit, remembering the moment, but quickly slacks his face when he sees Malia starting at him with an unamused look. He was really grateful that Malia was able to forgive him for not telling her about Peter. In all honesty, it was eating him alive, the distance between them the last couple of days. Malia is everything to him, and he didn’t realize how much it bugged when she wasn’t there until, well, she wasn’t there.

“I know, I know,” Stiles starts, putting the pizza box on her desk. “I just felt like I should do something a little more. Hence, pizza.”

He sees a quip of a smile on Malia’s mouth, and the knot in his stomach untightens a bit. 

She doesn’t say anything, so naturally he tries to fill the silence. “I just- these past few weeks have been really shitty, and I’m not talking like ‘supernatural causing chaos’ shitty. Like ‘I can’t see my girlfriend’ shitty. And I’m sorry, because it’s my fault and I really should have told you before. I wanted to tell you but I ju-”

He’s ready to confess his sins, but thankfully Malia cuts him off with the press of her lips on his, soft and sweet that Stiles can’t help slipping his hands in her hair like an impulse, thumbs brushing her cheeks.

It’s feather light, and over in a few seconds, but even when they part, their foreheads are still touching, noses bumping at how close you are. 

“What do you want to do, then? Since you’re here.” Malia whispers, her fingers playing at the hem of his flannel.

Stiles still has his hands cupping her face, and he can only describe this moment as wonderous. She’s looking down at her hands, but all Stiles can see if her soft skin and her beautiful eyes, and he really can’t believe that he gets this. He gets to have someone like Malia in his life who will unconditionally care for him. And he thinks of how stupid he was to think she was undeserving of the truth, but makes a note to never try to hurt her again. 

He shrugs, pulling her hair behind her ear. “I just want to spend time with you. We can watch something and eat the apology pizza, you know, all that gushy stuff.”

Her smile grows, and fuck if Stiles didn’t miss that smile, where she looks at him like he’s holding the moon. 

“That depends; what kind of pizza did you get?” Malia quips. 

“You’re favorite. Meat.”

They start dozing off during a movie on Stiles laptop, and too tired to manage to get up, they settle on just sliding under the covers of Malia’s bed, laptop forgotten at the foot of it. As they settle in and Malia moves to put her arms around Stiles, he puts a hand out to stop her. 

“Can I hold you tonight?” he whispers, and he wonders if she can smell the nervousness on him.

“I thought you hated being the big spoon?” she mumbles, blinking her eyes to look at him. “You arm falls asleep.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I just, I really want to hold you tonight.”

He doesn’t say more because he knows he can’t without screwing it up, but the way Malia looks at him, he knows that she understands by how she just turns on her side, taking Stiles’ hand and guiding it around her as she presses her back into him. He snakes his arm around her and tangles their feet together, his face pressing into where her neck meets her shoulder.

It just, it feels so good, to hold her, something he thought he never really needed until now. And when she laces their fingers together, he wonders if she feels this content every night when she hold him.

“I love you,” he blurts out, comes out as a mumble but definitely not intentional. And split second of panic rushes over him that he just told his girlfriend that he loved her while they’re lying in bed and who the fuck does that?

It’s dead quiet for too long, he thinks, and he’s ready to straight get up and leave, but she presses back against his chest.

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

And she honest-to-God giggles, right there. “When you say love, do you mean love as in like loving pizza or as in love, love?”

Her fingers are playing with his now, tapping at each one over and over, and Stiles just notices he’s counting to ten in his head as she’s doing it, and his heart fucking swells.

“I think you underestimate my love for pizza,” he snorts.

She turns her head just enough so that her lips catch at the side of his mouth, pressing softly. 

“Then I love you like pizza, too.”

[stalialikecrazy]

the seven sins of stiles stilinski || stalia week - day seven

A/N: From this lovely prompt from a lovely anon. I hope this is similar to what you had in mind. Warning for slight smut.

Sloth

"Stiles! Stiles!" 

A familiar voice interrupts a pleasant dream, transferring him from his fantasy world into the real. He frowns, wanting to remain, but the pull is too strong. 

"Hmm?" he hums his question lazily, stretching his arms above his head as he attempts to open his eyes. They protest under the desire for more sleep. 

"You promised to drive me to school remember?" an impatient voice says, pulling him further into reality. "I have training, and so do you..." 

Still, Stiles doesn't fully wake, mumbling something about five more minutes before rolling over, tucking his hand beneath his cheek.

The face of a pretty blonde-brunette floats before his eyes and he smiles, only to be jerked awake moments late. 

"Wha-?" he blinks rapidly up into that same face, though this one isn't surrounded by an ethereal glow like the one in his dream. She's actually kind of pissed. 

"You promised," she says pointedly, lifting her eyebrows at him. "It's the first practice for the cross-country team and I don't want to be late." 

Stiles groans. "Malia..." he starts, but she hears none of it, rolling him towards the edge of the bed. "Alright, alright, I'm up." 

A triumphant smile spreads across her face. She leans down and plants a kiss on his lips. "Thank you," she says happily, despite the fact that he hasn't brushed his teeth yet. His hand reaches behind her head and tugs her close, deepening the kiss as much as possible. Maybe if he distracts her... "Nice try," she laughs a little breathlessly moments later, breaking the kiss. "Up!" 

Thwarted once again, Stiles groans, too tired to move. They were up late last night doing... things. Honestly, he doesn't know how Malia has so much energy first thing in the morning. It must be a coyote thing. 

"Maybe this whole track team thing wasn't such a good idea after all," he mumbles. "I happen to like my sleep, you know."  

Pride

There's something amazing about watching Malia run. She moves so effortlessly that all Stiles can do is stare in awe. She's particularly in her element when she runs cross-country through the woods, easily bounding among the trees, completely at home. For her, it's comforting to know that some things never change. 

Stiles is there during her first competition, watching from the sidelines, moving with her as she does. Or at least, he tries to, but he doesn't make it too far. He'd run with her every step of the way if he wasn't so bad at it. But she doesn't mind. Just laughs as she makes her way over to him, kissing him when he's finally too out of breath to keep up before continuing on her way.

It's her way of saying thank you without actually saying the words. 

Stiles notices these things. 

Once he's picked himself up, he somehow drags himself to the finish line, ready to cheer once she comes back around. Despite feeling exhausted and out of breath, sweat dripping from every pore, Stiles still manages to smile. 

Envy

Malia rounds the corner a while later, a determined look on her face as she moves towards the end. But there's also someone else running beside her, keeping pace with her stride. It's obvious that the guy is struggling, but still, he crosses the finish line seconds behind Malia. 

Stiles isn't worried though. Not when she's smiling brightly and walking towards him. Not until she pauses and turns around. The suddenly big, broad shouldered and muscular guy is calling out to her, hand out stretched. 

Turns out, Stiles doesn't watching this part from the sidelines. Not one bit.

Wrath

It's a little bit petty, he knows, but Stiles can't stop himself. It's so easy to pretend like he doesn't care, that he isn't jealous. It's especially easy when there's a pretty girl looking at him like she is, twirling her hair on her finger with a sweet smile across her face. 

Too bad it's not the smile he's become accustomed too; no the one he likes to see. 

He leaves with a sick feeling in his stomach. It was just talking, but still, it didn't feel right. It doesn't feel right with anyone but Malia. 

Worst still, he knows she was watching, and probably listening, to every second. Even if she's not looking at him at anymore.

Gluttony

Stiles is half-way through a large tub of chocolate ice cream topped with whipped-cream when his window slams open and Malia comes storming through the opening. 

"What was that?" she asks heatedly, hands on her hips as she stares at him in disbelief. 

"What was what?" he asks stubbornly, but he can't quite meet her eyes. 

"You know what, Stiles, I may not understand things like math or history, but I know when you're trying to make me jealous, what I want to know is why." 

He sets aside the tub before sitting up on his bed. "I don't know why, okay?" he exclaims. "I saw you talking to Brandon and something inside me just flipped. I was an idiot, I know, and I'm sorry." 

Malia rolls her eyes before storming over to the bed. 

"You really are an idiot," she almost growls, even as her lips descend towards his. 

Lust

"Malia," he moans loudly as she presses against him eagerly, her hips settled on his thighs. Fingers dig into his shoulder blades causing a delicious pain to surge through him. His hands pull her waist forward needily, grinding her against him.

"Stiles," she gasps back and within seconds his shirt is gone. Hers follows soon after. His palms slide up along her sides, thumbs teasing the underside of her breasts. Malia's head hangs back in pleasure, hair swishing from side to side. "More."

It's utter agony when she moves away to remove his pants, sliding them down his legs. Even worst when her shorts get kicked off, falling somewhere in his room. She's been away too long. He needs her now. 

Her body returns, legs wrapping around his hips and Stiles swallows thickly at the sight before him. She's utterly beautiful. He can't understand how he got so lucky.

His fingers slip between her thighs, a loud groan escaping at the wetness he finds there. And then he's slipping inside her, his fingers pumping gently as her hips begin to rotate, seeking her pleasure. Stiles feels on the verge of exploding. 

He tells her. 

All she says is, "I know," before shuddering around his fingers, drawing him in deeper.

Stiles has never seen her so sexy. 

Well, not until she's sliding down onto him, staring into his eyes as she takes him in inch by inch. They both still. Stiles is already breathless, even before she begins moving. Her body undulates above him, and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. Eventually they settle against her smooth back, fingers spreading out, holding her ever closer. 

It feels so good, he almost can't stand it.

He kisses her again, lips hungrily seeking hers. 

Moments later, they come together, gasping for air.

Greed

"I want you all to myself," he whispers into the night, peering at her over his shoulder. "I don't like sharing you."  The look she gives him is one of disbelief, like he's talking crazy. "I'm not having sex with anyone else, Stiles," she replies bluntly, her hand squeezing his tightly as her arm wraps around his body from behind. 

"Yeah, I know," he replies stupidly. "But they're all gonna find out soon, and I don't want them to." 

"Find out what?" she asks, brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Just, you know, how special you are. I kinda liked that I was the only one who noticed. I guess, I'm selfish like that." 

[johnnyssilverhand]

STALIA APPRECIATION WEEK (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

↳ Day Six: Favorite Song

b r e a t h e ... take me over

[coyotequeens]

run like a rabbit, bloom like a rose

Is it still Stalia week? Even if it's not, here's a little something I thought of a couple months ago; twitter followers may remember me tweeting about it. Pure pwp.

It’s dark out by the time Stiles gets out of lacrosse practice, the sun long dipped past the horizon, air cold as they head into the last weeks of November. He shivers a little as he steps out of the school and into the chilly night air, body no longer steaming with warmth as it had been out on the field. He can see his breath as he heads toward the parking lot, pulling out his phone as he goes.

It’s the full moon tonight, and practice was rough; Liam’s still struggling with control, even though he’s gotten much better at it, and Stiles and Scott and Kira spent most of practice reining him in, giving him the security of pack. It’s Malia he’s worried about now; she got control of the shift months ago but she was acting weird all day; she snapped at Lydia — like, literally snapped her teeth, eyes flashing blue — when Lydia gently suggested she needed to study a bit more after getting a C- on her chemistry test, and she’d skittered aside with a growl when he’d tried to kiss her that morning. Something’s up.

Malia doesn’t answer the phone — she rarely does, even for him — so he sighs and leaves a message, pinning his phone between his ear and shoulder as he tries to unlock the jeep without having to put down his gym bag. “Hey, I just got out of practice. Did you still want to come over tonight? Just text me or something.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone on the passenger’s seat, then chucks his gym bag into the back. Stiles takes a moment to just sit, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair; he hadn’t showered after practice ended because he wasn’t sure if Malia was going to come over or not. She’s got this thing about smelling him, and she really seems to like it when he’s sweaty, especially after sex when they’re both covered in sweat, so he hadn’t showered tonight because it seemed like, oh, he doesn’t know — like a treat for her or something. It’s just uncomfortable now though, his clothes damp and his skin sticky. Stiles sighs and turns the key in the ignition.

Stiles frowns and tries again, but the engine refuses to turn over. He swears and climbs out of the jeep, fishing around under the front seat until he finds a flashlight, then swings around to the front and opens the hood. He curses again. The battery’s gone. Not dead — gone, the space where it used to sit dark and empty.

“What the fuck,” Stiles says angrily. Is this some kind of prank? He swings his head around, waiting for someone to start laughing, but the parking lot’s deserted, the rest of his teammates long gone. He drops to his knees, peering under the jeep in case, by some miracle, the battery just fell out and landed under there somehow, but the only thing he sees is a flattened McDonald’s bag. “Fuck,” he says again, with a lot of feeling.

Stiles climbs back into the jeep and calls Scott, but he doesn’t pick up and Stiles belatedly remembers that he was going over to Kira’s for dinner with her parents. Malia doesn’t have a car, and Lydia said something about going to the lake house with her mom. Derek’s out of town with Braeden, and Liam doesn’t have his license. Stiles scowls. What’s the point of being in a pack if none of them are around? He swears again and calls his dad, who sighs when he picks up.

“I’m on a call, Stiles,” he says, when Stiles tells him what’s happened. “I can’t leave.”

“Oh?” Stiles says, curiosity momentarily overpowering his annoyance. “Supernatural or — ”

“Minor traffic accident,” Dad sighs. “I can put out a call and see if anyone’s in the area who can come pick you up, if you want.”

“Don’t bother,” Stiles says, his shoulders slumping. With his luck, it’d be Parrish, and he’s sick of getting the third degree about the supernatural world from him. “I’ll just walk.” He and Scott had done it a thousand times before they were old enough to drive, walking the well-beaten path through the woods behind the school.

“All right,” Dad says mildly. “I’ll see you at home later.”

Stiles hangs up and grabs his backpack from the back, leaving his gym bag behind — he won’t need it until tomorrow anyway. He keeps hold of his flashlight as he trots across the parking lot and around the edge of the lacrosse field. It’s a little worrying that he doesn’t know who — or what — took his battery, but he’s not super concerned. The town’s been quiet since they took care of the nemeton, and he can handle himself. If he was really worried, he would have said yes to his dad’s offer, or would have taken the long route back home, via the roads, lit bright by the streetlights.

It doesn’t take long before he’s left the lights of the school behind him and he’s alone in the woods. It’s very dark, no moonlight filtering down through the trees, and the light from his flashlight makes long shadows that leap around with every step he takes. It’s…okay, so it’s a little different, being out here alone at night, than it is walking it with Scott during the day. Stiles pauses when he hears a noise behind him, swinging the light of the flashlight around behind him. There’s nothing to see, but he walks a little faster, heart rate increasing just a tick. He tries calling Malia again, but she still doesn’t pick up.

There’s a shuffling off in the woods to his right and Stiles spins, aiming his flashlight in that direction and again there’s nothing. “Okay,” he mutters. “It’s fine. It’s just a raccoon or something.” He starts walking again and it’s walking, okay, not jogging. This is a calm, leisurely — something moves at the edge of his pool of light, something dark and low to the ground that slips from tree to tree — and this, this is a jog. His heart’s beating fast in his chest now, but he concentrates on moving, breathing deep, and does his best to ignore the way his skin’s crawling.

Whatever it is is keeping pace with him, crashing through the woods next to him maybe five yards off the path. He keeps getting skin-crawling glimpses of it, yellow eyes flatly reflecting the light from his flashlight. At one point, the path splits, and Stiles swerves to take the path that will take him to the nearest road, back to the safety of humanity and orange pools of light from streetlamps, but the thing snarls, much closer than before, and Stiles jerks back onto the path that stays in the woods. His chest hurts from running — this path is so much longer than he ever remembers it being, Jesus — and he’s prickling with sweat all over, his already damp shirt clinging to him.

Stiles tries to call Scott but running and flicking through his contacts is more multitasking than he can handle and he trips over a tree root. Stiles hits the ground hard, somehow managing to keep hold of his phone, but his flashlight hits the ground and goes out. He hears it go rolling into the undergrowth and scrambles after it frantically, but even as he’s shoving his hand through the leaves, there’s a low growl from just a few feet away. Stiles freezes with his arm outstretched, blinking sweat from his eyes. It growls again and Stiles thinks fuck the flashlight. He’s moving before he even realizes it, moving as fast as he can with no light to see by. The beast in the wood drives him like a sheepdog, snapping at his heels, driving him off the path and deeper into the trees. Stiles knows it’s happening but he goes where he’s forced because what else can he do? He’s got no weapons on him — belatedly curses himself for not grabbing his lacrosse stick.

There’s a break in the trees ahead; Stiles bursts out into a clearing, bathed silver in the moonlight. It’s no relief, the land unfamiliar. He keeps running, and gets halfway across the clearing before teeth grab at his ankle, pulling him off his feet. Stiles hits the ground again, what little breath he has left gusting from his lungs, and manages to scramble onto his back, giving himself his first good look at the beast chasing him. He stills, eyes widening at the sight of the coyote, tawny fur dyed warm gray.

“You brat,” he breathes, shaking with relief, and the coyote’s mouth drops open like it’s laughing, tongue lolling across its sharp white teeth. Stiles shrugs off his backpack and collapses against the grass, cold blades prickling against his shoulders as he sucks in air and tries to get his body under some semblance of control. There’s some vaguely organic noises coming from beyond his field of vision, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the starry sky; Malia doesn’t like people seeing her shift. He only lifts his head when she settles across his thighs, fully human.

“You think you’re really funny, don’t you?” Stiles says accusingly, raising himself onto his elbows. Malia lifts her eyebrows innocently. “What’d you do with my battery?”

“It’s in my locker,” she says unconcernedly. She seemed unperturbed by the fact that she’s naked, nipples peaking in the cold air. The earth at his back is sucking the warmth out of Stiles but when he puts his hands on Malia’s hips she’s blazing hot, life pulsing under her skin. A smile curves her mouth as she tugs him upright by his shirt. “Caught you,” she murmurs, breath warm against Stiles’ clammy face.

“Wish I’d had some warning the chase was happening,” Stiles says moodily, hands sliding over the curve of her ass. Malia smiles, something feral in her expression, shifting forward so her weight’s settled right over his groin. Stiles makes a soft noise, far from a complaint, hands tensing against her warm skin. His body’s still thrumming with adrenaline, but it’s downshifting from fear-driven to something more primal and far, far more enjoyable.

Malia’s smile widens. “Thought so,” she says, and dips in for a bruising kiss, mouth rough and demanding. She cups his face in her hands, thumbs pressing at the hinge of his jaw until he opens his mouth for her.

This — this is what Stiles loves about Malia. She is unapologetically fierce, embracing her animal side unabashedly. Only she’d chase him through the woods without a second thought — only she would sit here now, naked and unconcerned, bathed in moonlight. And Stiles may never be able to truly empathize with how the moon pulls at the wildness inside her, but he gets it; fear aside, the chase was thrilling, and the reward…well. He’d do it again if she asked, though she probably wouldn’t; it’d just happen, like tonight had just happened. Stiles doesn’t mind. Malia just does sometimes. It keeps things interesting.

Malia tugs on his hair, signalling he’s losing focus. Stiles bites back a grin and tilts his chin up at her, heat licking down his spine at the way her eyes flash blue. She growls low in her throat — Stiles can feel it buzz in his breastbone — and tucks her head in close, drawing her nose up his neck, tongue flashing out to lick the sweat from his skin. Stiles hums encouragingly, pressing his cheek to her hair as he draws a hand up her stomach, dragging his fingernails against her skin. He swears when she bites down on his throat with blunt human teeth, gets her back by rubbing his thumb over one of her stiff nipples, squeezing lightly at the swell of her breast.

Malia gasps, a wholly human noise, though her nails feel long where they’re curled at the base of his neck. She pulls away from his throat and ducks back in for a rough kiss, teeth tugging at his lip before sweeping her tongue into his mouth. She’s got her whole body pressed against his, blazing with heat, grinding down against him in sharp, hurried rolls of her hips, panting raggedly against his mouth.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles murmurs soothingly, slipping his hand between them and into to the slick heat between Malia’s thighs. She’s soaking wet with want, sending him shuddering at how good she feels, rubbing two fingers at her clit. Malia keens, arching her back, fingers digging into Stiles’ shoulders as she rides his hand. He keeps his eyes on her face, breathing hard through his mouth, almost drunk off the expression of bliss and lust on her face. Her eyes burn blue when she comes, thighs shaking, what are definitely claws pricking through Stiles’ hoodie, and his dick pulses in his pants, hard and aching.

He pulls his hand away slowly, eyes still on Malia’s face as he licks his fingers, gut clenching at the taste of her. Malia straightens, chest still heaving, eyes still glowing blue, and growls, “Again,” her slender fingers scrabbling at his belt.

Stiles groans, catching her by the wrist. “I don’t have any condoms,” he admits regretfully. Malia just grins predatorily and leans over to his backpack. She digs around in the front pocket for a moment before returning triumphant with a foil square. Stiles is highly impressed. “Did you stash that there just for this?” Malia grins with all her teeth, swiftly unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants down his hips. Stiles hisses when she gets her hand around his dick, pulling him out into the cool night air. He has to press his forehead to her shoulder as she rolls on the condom, then lifts her hips and sinks down on top of him in one quick, impatient movement.

“Fuck,” Stiles groans. “Malia — “

She makes a feral noise, something between a snarl and a growl, and bites down on his shoulder, riding him hard and fast. It’s all Stiles can do to brace himself on one arm, can’t even fuck up against her because she’s got her knees clamped around his hips. He’s sweating again, uncomfortably warm now, panting open-mouthed against her temple. Malia’s getting frustrated, one hand fisted in his hair, the other braced against his shoulder as she works herself up and down his cock, angry, subvocal sounds slipping between her lips as she chases her release.

Stiles tries to help her; he uses the hand he’s not supporting himself with to rub at her clit, but she snarls and shoves at his shoulders, pushing him to the ground. It’s better this way. Stiles doesn’t have to support himself; he can put his hands on Malia’s hips and cant up into her as she grinds down, her whole body hunched over him, her forearms caging his head.

“Come on,” Stiles pants, fingers digging into her skin, blunt fingernails leaving shallow half-moon impressions on her hips. “Come on, fuck — “

Malia makes a broken, desperate sort of noise and shuts him up with a frantic kiss, slamming her body down to meet the rise of his hips. He kisses her back wildly, open-mouthed and wet, fucking up into her as hard as he can. He’s close, so fucking close, and so is she — Stiles can tell by the way she’s starting to shake, the frantic hitch of her breath. He gets a hand between them again, and this time she doesn’t shove him away, but throws her head back with a wail that echoes through the trees, body tightening on the wave of her orgasm. Stiles curses as her body clamps down around him, hips jolting up one last time before his own orgasm slams into him like a freight train, back arching off the ground as he empties himself into the condom.

Malia leans back to look at him as they catch their breaths, his dick still inside her. She looks utterly satisfied, running a lazy hand down her stomach. Stiles catches her hand, threading their fingers together.

“Seriously, though,” he says, grinning faintly. “Give a guy some warning next time.”

Malia tilts her chin up like she’s thinking about it. “No,” she decides, and gives him a satisfied smirk. “And next time, you’ll be naked.”

Stiles snorts. “How are you going to manage that?”

Malia grins and leans forward, her hair falling around them like a curtain. Stiles puts his hands back on her waist, thumbs pressed against the jut of her hipbones. “I’ll find a way,” she says lightly, dangerously, and the terrifying, amazing thing is...Stiles knows she will.