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sundrop-writes · 17 days

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BRAINWASHED

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Everything’s clean - except for my thoughts. (Thinking about me getting you off.)

Can’t stop thinking you got me B R A I N W A S H E D .

Summary:

Stiles likes you. He really, really, really likes you. It's bordering on obsession, but he likes to believe that he has it under control.

So when you accidentally leave a pair of your panties in his presence, ripe for the taking, and they're in his backpack faster than he can blink - he realizes that he might not have it as under control as he would like to think. But he can't find it to be too much of a problem when he has those panties wrapped around his cock.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Pining!Stiles/One Sided Fantasies. Panty Stealing. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 8,000

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and is described as having a vagina; Stiles and the reader have been best friends since childhood and they are in high school now (they are both the same age) (for argument's sake, they are both 18, but the horny parts were motivated by the hotness of a 20-something actor so idc what age you interpret the characters as); the reader's looks are mostly undescribed and left neutral in terms of race, hair texture/colour, height, etc. however the reader is implied to be fat/plus sized; mentions of the reader wearing dresses and tights (things that the other characters on the show would typically wear); mentions of the reader having a cat - I did not give the cat a name so you can imagine it's the same as your cat's name/what you would want your cat to be called if you had one; use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); brief mention that the reader would like wearing bikinis; the reader calls Stiles 'good boy' in non-sexual contexts and it turns him on; mentions of Stiles looking up the reader's skirt when she doesn't know it; some slight dubious consent because Stiles steals the reader's underwear without her consent and uses them in a sexual act (his masturbation); masturbation (Stiles touching himself); this is a one-sided/pining fic - all the sexual acts take place inside Stiles's mind as sexual fantasies while he masturbates; the reader character is described in these sexual acts as they play out in his mind, so that's why she is included heavily in the warnings; Stiles is submissive (even in his own fantasies) and he fantasies about the reader being dominant toward him; Stiles becoming aroused by the idea of the reader not shaving her pussy; technically there is edging - because Stiles edges himself to make his fantasies last longer; panty sniffing (though the panties Stiles took are freshly launder and not used ones); scent kink/sweat kink - Stiles likes the way you smell, including your sweat; kinks and sexual acts mentioned only in Stiles's fantasies (taking place only in his mind in this fic): car sex (in the back of the Jeep (typical, I know)), fingering (reader receiving), degradation kink (Stiles receiving - he likes the idea of the reader insulting him and being mean to him); pussy eating (Stiles fantasizes in depth about this); Reader makes a joke about spanking Stiles and Stiles has a small fantasy about being spanked by her; I think that's finally it.

A/N: Title for the fic comes from the song Brainwashed by Waterparks. Warning - Stiles might be a bit OOC in this because I wrote it before I started re-watching Teen Wolf again (and before I started watching Season 1 for the first time, because previously I had only seen 3B and beyond). In this, I have said that he's flunking classes and he's not really great with studying, while in the show, he's really smart and bookish and really well studied - but it could just be chalked up to the fact that he has a huge crush on the Reader that is distracting him from studying. So, interpret it how you want. I hope that you enjoy it, and please read through to my end notes to find out about a potential sequel to the fic!!

...

Stiles was hopeless.

That was the only way to describe his current state of being. Completely, utterly hopeless.

He was a complete and total loser, hopelessly in love with his best friend. And he was getting more stupidly caught up in that crush every single day. And of course, he didn’t even have the courage to admit his feelings for you so that it could be awkwardly out in the open. So that the two of you could get the rejection part over with, at least.

Basically - his feelings for you were slowly ruining his life.

Stiles had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Well, maybe not that long.

See, you, him, and Scott had all been friends since the beginning of kindergarten, and naturally, Stiles always liked you as a person. He always thought of you as a good friend, even if he gravitated toward Scott more.

But he distinctly remembered the first moment when he had started to develop a crush on you. It was a very special memory to him - the day when you shifted in his eyes from annoying, slightly nagging friend to a beautiful, fierce woman.

It was the day when the three of you were out on Halloween night during the third grade - and that was around the time people started whispering about crushes in school, when people would have playground girlfriends and boyfriends that they broke up with every other week. That night, a group of eighth grade bullies began chasing the three of you, trying to take your candy.

Without hesitation, you picked up the largest rock in sight and threw it at one of them, causing a large cut across his forehead - and you loudly told them to ‘fuck off’ (the first time Stiles had ever heard such a word when it wasn’t coming from his dad). They had run away, somehow terrified of a girl a foot shorter than them.

That night, you had become his hero.

And since then, you had been the only object of his affections.

Of course, over the years, Stiles had plenty of opportunities to tell you about his feelings for you. He just… always felt too cowardly to do so.

In seventh grade, he had come very close to asking you out to the winter dance - only to have Scott beat him to the punch. When he pulled Scott aside to ask him about it, Scott confessed to him that he also had a crush on you. This resulted in their first ever fistfight. The first ever true rift in their otherwise close, brotherly friendship.

The boys didn’t speak to each other for days. Which, naturally, annoyed the hell out of you. Especially because, of course, neither of them told you why they were fighting, not wanting you to know that you were the source of the rift in their friendship. And to you, this only made the fight seem more stupid and immature.

So finally, when you demanded it, they called a truce. They agreed that they didn’t want to lose their friendship or lose you. They didn’t want to make you choose between them when it wouldn’t make any of you happy.

So Stiles proposed that the three of you should go to the dance as friends, which you loved, and they both got you a corsage, one for each wrist - and the three of you still laughed at the pictures of you holding each of their arms.

Eventually, Scott grew out of his crush on you and moved onto other girls, and he loved that he got to keep you as a close best friend, someone he could go to for dating advice if needed. Scott kept trying to convince Stiles to simply ‘man up’ and tell you about his feelings, but Stiles kept that same sentiment they had concluded upon years ago. Telling you about his feelings would only ruin the friendship. Not just between you, but between the entire group - it would fuck up the pack.

Though it felt like the more he tried to ignore his feelings for you, the more they festered like a tumor. While Scott was able to mature past his crush on you, Stiles only grew more intense, and more insane when it came to his ‘crush’ on you.

Over the years, his crush on you had grown from something sweet and childish into something much more. When puberty truly took over and lust was added into the mix, he now had to deal with the fact that you had grown into a gorgeous woman. He could barely control his arousal when looking at you, hearing your voice, smelling you, talking to you, thinking about you - even simply being in your presence made something in his mind melt. And it was growing much worse with each passing day. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wake up with a raging boner fueled by sexual dreams of you.

And naturally, he would say that not telling you about his feelings for you was ultimately the best thing for him. He would steadfastly refuse to admit that him being distracted by all these fantasies of you was slowly eroding your friendship from the inside out. Slowly, bit by bit, his worst fears were coming true - your friendship was being ruined by his crush anyway.

But he tried to ignore that. Even if you were the most gorgeous, perfect being ever put on the planet, he tried his hardest to simply enjoy the platonic version of you. He tried to act like he wasn’t stupidly, head over heels in love with you.

He tried not to act like it.

But on nights like this, it was just so hard.

Tonight, the two of you were studying for an upcoming English mid-term that would be worth a decent portion of your final grade.

Logically, Stiles knew that he should have locked himself in his room and forced himself to study independently. Or he should have taken up Scott on his offer to study with him and Allison.

But no, he just had to ask you for your ‘help’.

And you pitied him and said yes, because he was doing poorly in the class. The only reason for that being because it was one of the classes that he shared with you, and he spent all of his damn time staring at you across the room during it. He had tried to tell himself that he really would study tonight, that he would really take advantage of your intelligence here and now to get his shit together in order to up his grade.

But no. That was just one of many daily lies that he told himself. Since the moment he had set foot in your bedroom that afternoon (and it was dark out now, well into the evening) - he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but you.

Sure, sometimes that worked to his benefit. Hearing you recite Shakespeare, the words coming off your sweet lips - it did force him to focus on the material at hand for at least a short period of time. But it wasn’t like he was actually retaining any of it. He was just thinking about how gorgeous your voice sounded and how amazing you would be in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. One where he played Romeo, of course - and he would get to use someone else’s well-crafted words to romance you, finally getting to kiss you for the first time.

Again - he was hopeless.

Currently, Stiles was laying diagonally on your bed, sitting among a mess of books - the English textbooks, the assigned novels, the published copies of the play, along with binders of your notes and other notebooks, stray papers. He couldn’t pay attention to the notes he was supposed to be writing, not for a moment, not if his life depended on it. Not when you looked this stunningly beautiful while busy writing your own notes.

With the soft lighting from your bedside lamp brushing across your skin, making that skin look even softer, you were a goddess-like vision sitting on the bed across from him. You were wearing the simple dress that you had worn to school earlier that day, your modest tights since shed off in the name of ‘comfort’ (and so that your cat wouldn’t rip holes in them while crawling across your lap, you had remarked to Stiles). When you had stood at your hamper and peeled them off your legs, Stiles had a hard time not letting the drool spill out across his chin.

Your thighs were gorgeous. Thick, wide, spread out like a buffet for his eyes to feast on every single time you sat down. From his angle, laying down the way he was, he was up close and personal with the dimpling cellulite and stretchmarks you had there. The hem of your dress had ridden up when you had adjusted your position to get comfortable, and he felt absolutely spoiled by how much more of your thighs were revealed to him.

A few times throughout the evening, he had to physically clench his fingers, tight, to remind himself not to reach out and touch. To remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to touch. The last thing he wanted to do was to creep you out by randomly reaching out and touching your thigh. But he wanted so badly to touch.

How many times had he imagined what those thighs would look like bouncing and jiggling while you rode his cock? How many times had he imagined those thighs clamped around his head while he licked your pussy? (Far too many times for the good of his own sanity.)

Not to mention the concentration spread across your face - you were so fucking hot when you showed off your intelligence. Hell everything about you was hot - your sweetness, your laughter, your sarcasm, even your bitchy side. But your bookish side had to be one of Stiles’s favorites.

The way you would nibble your own lip when thinking, the way your brows furrowed slightly in thought. Everything about you - from the bra strap sticking out of the neckline of your dress to the chipped edge of your nail polish where you had chewed on it - you were a fucking vision. And Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried.

It was a wonder that you didn’t notice Stiles staring at you - not as often as he did it.

Stiles felt strangely caught when you put down your pen and looked up from your notebook, then. He quickly scrambled to grab his own pencil and start writing something, to look busy. But of course, he just looked like more of an idiot when the eraser end began scraping across the page in nonsense patterns.

“Stiles,” You scolded him with a sigh, a way he was used to hearing his name come off your lips. “Have you gotten anything done? I told you to copy down at least half my notes-”

Of course. You pegged his blank page as simple laziness, rather than his brain slowly melting out through his ears due to his inability to think about anything but you (especially when he was in the same room as you). At least he hadn’t been caught staring at you in that creepy way yet.

You snatched up his notebook to check his work, and his heart dropped - if you looked too carefully, then he would be caught. In the back of that notebook, there were about three pages of his name and yours in hearts, and a few times he had practiced writing his signature as ‘Mr Stiles L/N’. (He was a feminist, and he liked the idea of starting a new tradition.) There was even a drawing he had made designing your theoretical wedding cake, including a cake topper where he was Superman and you were riding on his back while he was flying.

“Y/N, uh-”

He quickly snatched the notebook back, causing a glare from you while he sighed in defeat.

“Fine.” He shrugged, knowing that he had to admit to a smaller crime in order to cover up the larger one. It was something that he did with his father all too often. “I didn’t get anything done. I was slacking off. You caught me.”

“Stiles!” You scolded him again, reaching out to gently smack his shoulder. “If you keep this shit up, you’re never gonna graduate!”

Sadly, you were probably right. His crush on you was absolutely going to ruin him.

“Well, you could just let me copy off you,” He replied, giving you a wide grin that let you know he was mostly kidding.

You rolled your eyes in reply, and soon your gaze caught sight of the clock on your nightstand.

“Well, it seems like you have wasted enough of my time for tonight.” You scoffed sarcastically.

Stiles knew that you had intended this to be a joke - but he couldn’t help the twinge of pain the words caused in his gut. The idea that he was truly just a waste of time in your life. He pressed his lips tightly together to suppress a frown and didn’t say anything more, and then you continued.

“It’s almost your curfew anyway.” You pointed out, gesturing toward the clock. You were right. Stiles hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting - too busy enjoying his time with you. “We’ll pack it up for the night - but you should meet me at the library tomorrow morning, early, so we can go over everything again before the exam.”

Of course, you were still invested in the idea of him getting a good grade, even if that seemed unlikely to happen.

“You’re gonna make me get up early?” He whined, hating the idea of missing out on even ten extra minutes of sleep.

“Yes.” You stressed. “I want you there at seven o’clock. Sharp.”

Your ultra serious voice ordering him around was undeniably a turn-on for him. No matter what sexual fantasies Stiles cooked up about you in his mind, he could never picture himself having full control over you. In fact, most of the time, he found himself covered in cum at the idea of you having complete control over him. And it was likely because this was how most of your friendship went - you told him what to do, and he did it. And that was a huge part of why he fell for you in the first place.

When he didn’t verbally confirm the time, too caught up in his infatuation yet again, you let out a gentle growl of frustration.

“Stiles!” You called out his name. “You have to be there at seven. So you can’t get out of bed at seven - you have to set your alarm for like six-thirty, got it? Don’t make me come over there and get your ass out of bed like last time.”

This thought caused Stiles’s stomach to clench.

The last time you had come to his house to wake him up for school (because he had agreed to help you with some bakesale project and you were pissed off that he wasn’t there early to help you set up tables and whatnot) - you had charged into his house in a fury. You had your own key, of course, and his dad wasn’t there to busy you with conversation or pleasantries.

And you charged right up the stairs and nearly caught him with a hand around his cock, jerking off to a picture of you in a bikini from the summer before. And he had rushed to shove the picture in his nightstand and cocoon himself in the comforter to hide his body just as you made it to the top of the stairs, shouting at him for being late. Luckily, he had gotten away with the lie that he had slept in, rather than revealing the truth that he had been distracted because he had woken up with morning wood after having a heated dream about you.

When Stiles didn’t respond yet again, you grabbed a smaller decorative pillow from behind you and lightly hit him with it for emphasis, causing him to burst into laughter.

“Promise me you’ll be on time!” You said, smacking him with the pillow again.

“Yes, yes! I promise!” He finally agreed, his face becoming pink from laughter.

You dropped the pillow then, and leaned down, causing his eyes to inadvertently go straight to your cleavage while you gave him a gentle, friendly kiss on the forehead.

“Good boy.” You responded, praising him for agreeing to your terms. Obviously, it was another joke.

But these praising words combined with your lips even slightly brushing against his skin, along with your tits dangling so close to his face, had his cock swelling to hardness nearly instantly. He grabbed the pillow then, trying to look subtle as he put it over his crotch, desperately trying to hide the very obvious bulge that had popped up at the front of his jeans within seconds.

He was lucky when you shifted your attention away from him, now busy with cleaning off the bed, gathering your textbooks in a pile and moving to put them on your desk in the corner. You being distracted gave him a few moments to try and mentally will his dick down, which worked slightly. Only slightly.

“You could help me, you know.” You mocked him lightly - distracting him from his thoughts of baseball, trying to will the blood out of his cock.

He looked up and saw you standing there with his backpack, putting away his textbooks and notebooks now. He had been so dumbly distracted by his own dick that he hadn’t noticed you taking the kind initiative to clean up his things for him too.

“Right, sorry.” He jumped into action and did so, taking things from your hands and shoving them into his bag with haste.

“You don’t have to rush out, I just need the bed cleared off so I can pick out my clothes for tomorrow.” You told him.

“Wait - you actually pick out your clothes in advance?” He asked, thinking that this was entirely adorable, and explained why you were always so well dressed.

(And it explained why you were always so punctual in the mornings while Stiles was usually a mess - running around his house still half-asleep, shoving his head into a shirt that he had sniffed to see if it was clean, shoving things frantically into his bag in order to get out the door five minutes late.)

“Well you know not all of us are okay with just throwing on last week’s mustard stained tee shirt,” You said, playfully pointing to a mustard stain that he had on his shirt from lunch.

He rolled his eyes in return, trying to ignore the slight twist of embarrassment that wanted to swell up inside of him at the comment.

There had been a point where he used to make a very pointed effort to impress you. Back when his crush on you had first gotten serious - likely around the beginning of high school. He used to get up early every single morning, spending a lot of time being intensely picky about the clothes he wore. He drowned himself in cologne (until you had complained about it), he wore certain colors just because you mentioned liking them. But none of it seemed to garner any more of your attention than usual.

And so, he resigned himself to be the loser best friend who would always just float at the corners of your life, drowning in his secret affection for you until some better, hotter guy came along and swept you off your feet one day.

He was just glad that day hadn’t come yet.

Stiles was hesitant to leave - he wasn’t done being around you for the day yet, too emotionally attached. But he guessed that he would need to get some decent sleep before waking up at the asscrack of dawn in order to see more of you the next morning. (Even if it would include the horrors of studying at the library.)

“So - I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He posed, ready to take his leave as he swung his backpack over his shoulder.

“Ooh, wait one second.” You said, eagerness twinging through your voice.

His heart pounded hard in his chest for a moment, wondering if this could be the moment he had been waiting so long for - would you stop him there, grab him by the shoulders and kiss him hard, and then tell him that you had been feeling the exact same way as he had for all these years?

“Which one?” You asked, spinning around from your closet to face him, holding up two dresses on hangers.

Oh. You were asking for his opinion about what you should wear to school the next day.

“The blue one.” Stiles said, motioning towards it. “That shade of blue looks beautiful on you - it compliments your skin tone well, and it makes you shine. But ya know, you look gorgeous in everything. You could wear a paper bag to school and everyone would still be jealous of how amazing you look.”

He rambled on for a moment too long, and realized that his genuine fondness for you - something straying too far into romantic territory - was slipping out.

“But - uh, yeah. I’ll see you later.” He quickly added on, now eager to leave before you could make any further comments.

Then he dashed out of your room and down the stairs, getting out the front door so fast that he practically left a poof of cartoon dust behind him.

He got into the Jeep and tossed his bag into the passenger’s seat - which, he hadn’t realized was not even zipped up. (A habit you often scolded him for - going around with his bag unzipped.) Papers and books spilled across the seat and underneath it, and he let out a loud growl of frustration.

“Idiot!” He screamed, scolding himself as he leaned down, trying to clean everything up. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!”

Partially, he was feeling so idiotic because he had just been so vulnerable with you and you probably thought he was weird for it. Actually, that was mostly why.

As he was picking up his things, he realized that - yup, he was missing his English textbook. He had forgotten it in your room. He heaved out a sigh and collapsed back against his seat. He could leave without it - but then he would get an earful from you in the morning about how he was ‘forgetful’ and ‘irresponsible’. Ugh.

He got out of the Jeep again and shuffled his way back into your house - your mom was working late, so there was nobody there to question him running out of the house at top speed and then appearing back so soon. All he got was a curious chirp and a head tilt from your cat, who was sitting on the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stiles remarked to the animal, stopping for a moment to pet him. “I’m pathetic. But you can’t rat me out, okay? I know she thinks highly of your opinion and I need you to put in a good word for me. Got it?”

The cat purred and pushed his face into Stiles’s hand, so he assumed that was a positive affirmation that he would root for Stiles - or at the very least, keep his secret.

Stiles linger for a moment to scratch the cat’s furry cheek, and then he stepped over the cat and made his way back toward your room. He passed the closed bathroom door and heard the shower running, and he almost cheered. If you were in the shower, then you wouldn’t notice him slipping back in to grab his book, so you couldn’t scold him for being a forgetful idiot.

He went into your room, and the second he made it through the mouth of your open bedroom, his eyes locked onto your bed like a hot target. Your clothes for the following day were spread out so neatly, and right there, on top of the blue dress he had suggested - there was a pair of lacy purple panties that were something right out of one of his fantasies.

Stiles had thought about your underwear before - many times. Too many times to count.

He had even caught small, passing glimpses of your underwear before - when you had worn dresses without tights and bent over in front of him. But he had only seen enough of it to determine the color, not to know if it was lacy or silk or cotton. And even that was enough to send him into a tailspin that had him rushing to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock.

In the back of his mind - or truly, the forefront of his mind whenever he jerked off to thoughts of you - he always wondered what kind of underwear you wore. What kind of decorative wrapping your pretty pussy would come in if he ever got the other-worldly privilege of getting his hands up your skirt.

Would they be simple, practical cotton underwear? Would they be cute? Would they be sinfully sexy? Would they be those underwear with the days of the week written across the front?

But seeing this now - seeing the tangible evidence in front of him that you actually planned to wear purple lacy lingerie to school - it was something that had all sense draining from his mind as blood rushed to his cock once again. He barely had time to think about it - and he didn’t think about it. Because then, they were in his hands, in his pocket, and he was back in the Jeep, hiding his stolen goods in his bag and hastily zipping it up so he could slam his foot on the gas and race home.

He didn’t even have a chance to think about the fact that he left without the textbook that he had gone back into your room looking for. He didn’t have the attention span to notice that said textbook was in a stack along with your own - almost as if purposefully kept there like an excuse to lure him back into your room, rather than clumsily forgotten by him.

…

When Stiles got into his room, he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, now entirely frantic, and thankful that his father was working a late shift again. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his hands shaking with anticipation as he unzipped his bag and pulled out the thing he had so hastily snagged.

His mind was warring with so many sensations. Guilt for taking the panties, paranoia that he would get caught, shame that he even had the urge to take them in the first place - but all of that was easily toppled over and forgotten in the name of lust. Overwhelming lust and arousal that he felt for you. Greed and joy at knowing that he had something so private of yours in his hands now - something so secret that he shouldn’t have. A perfect little piece of you.

His little secret piece of you.

He still couldn’t believe that this was the kind of underwear you wore on a daily basis.

Just imagining that this was what you wore to school - thinking about the fact that this was what you were wearing under your clothes during your everyday interactions with him: it drove him wild.

He easily pictured this pretty lace sticking to your cunt when you were wet, the lavender colored material getting slick and slightly darker, soaked through and visibly sticky when you spread your legs for him to see. He wondered if your pussy would be shaved or not - but you didn’t have a boyfriend, so currently, you didn’t have anybody to shave for.

He remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago where Scott had wondered if he should shave his pubes for Allison and you had remarked that ‘putting a razor near your junk’ was ‘ill-advised and stupid’ - so you probably didn’t even like shaving your pussy on principle.

This immediately put a picture in his mind of your pussy being covered in soft hair that matched the shade on your head - maybe a bit darker. It would clump together with your juices and become soaked when you got wet. The little hairs would probably stick out cutely from the sides of the bikini cut underwear, peeking at him.

Your pussy would be the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he knew that for certain.

Stiles imagined getting you in the backseat of the Jeep one night after a game.

He would still be covered in sweat from his efforts, worn out from trying his best. Sure, he wasn’t the best player, but you wanted to ‘reward’ him for his efforts on the winning side, even if he hadn’t directly contributed to the win.

So as soon as the game was over, before he even had time to change out of his pads or shower, you hauled him to the parking lot and shoved him into the car. His gear was only half-off, ditched hastily by your feet, and you were in his lap - a perfect prize after all the hard work he had done, sitting astride his already sore thigh muscles while you kissed him - hard. Your mouth greedily sucked the oxygen out of his lungs while you shoved your tongue past his lips, painting his tongue with your sweet spit - and fuck, it felt like he was made for this.

He got sucked so deep into the fantasy - it felt so damn real.

He imagined having his hands splayed out against your beautiful, plump ass, gripping you tightly, noting wanting you to separate from him for even a section. While you held on tightly to his face, sealing him into the kiss until his lips were sore. And you would only pull back to look into his eyes with glossy desperation and utter out:

“Please, Stiles. I need you. I need you to touch my pussy.”

And what else could he do but obey?

So he would lift up your skirt - a particularly short skirt that you had worn with nothing else but a pair of knee-high socks. Something that you knew he loved to see you cheer for him on the sidelines while wearing. Even though it was a chilly night, you couldn’t feel too cold when you saw him glancing at you every single chance he got. Of course, those distracted stares had gotten him screamed at by Coach more than once. But he loved the way your skirt would flutter up in the nighttime breeze, teasing him. The way the fucking beautiful thick fat of your thighs would jiggle whenever you would jump around in order to cheer him on.

He was a man of simple, divine tastes.

So - he would lift up that perfect skirt to find those purple lacy panties underneath; to find the perfection of your wet cunt waiting for him, growing slicker by the second, more needy for him. You were humping yourself against his athletic cup, which his hard cock was practically dying inside of, bursting to get out of the hard shell of plastic to touch you. But he ignored his own needs for a few minutes longer in favor of yours. Reaching forward, sliding his fingers along the wet spot at the front of your panties, absolutely indulging in the beautiful gasp you let out when his touch grazed across your swollen clit through the fabric.

“Stiles, please.”

He could almost hear it - it was so fucking clear inside his mind. The way your voice would be so pitched with desperation, so perfectly needy curled around his name. He wanted so badly to hear it in real life.

And he would push those panties to the side, pushing his fingers inside of your hot, wet cunt-

Back in the real world, Stiles’s cock gave a needy pulse, leaking into his boxers.

He heaved out a sigh, his cock practically vibrating with blood. He had driven home the whole time trying to ignore that boner, but he simply couldn’t do that anymore. He just had to give in.

He hesitantly put your panties aside - already feeling a strange sense of attachment to them - and reached to his nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube that he had in the drawer. Shamefully, it was already half empty, mostly due to the fantasies that he had about you. He undid his pants and had them around his ankles in record time, and whipped off his shirt for good measure, knowing that he was quite a ‘splasher’ and not wanting to get cum on it to pair with that ugly mustard stain.

He lubed up his cock more than a healthy amount, knowing that it would contribute to the fantasy of you being so wet around him. It was a distant fantasy that he would never actually get to achieve, but hell - a man can dream. Then he began to slowly pump his cock in hand, wanting to milk it and truly enjoy it, and he let his mind get back to work.

He thought back to your place. A place he was comfortable, spent a lot of time at hanging out with you.

He imagined that early that night when he had forgotten his book, rather than you being in the shower, he went back to your room and found that you had been getting ready for bed. You were rubbing sweet-smelling lotion on your arms, pulling back the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of cute little socks, a tiny camisole - where he could very visibly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, with the natural teardrop shape of your breasts bared to the eye, your nipples poking through the fabric - and those purple lace panties.

When he would appear in the doorway, you would gawk at him and ask:

“Stiles? What are you doing? Did you… forget something?”

But you would be positioned half leaning over the bed, taking back the covers so it would be comfortable for you to sleep - and your ass would be unintentionally on full display. Your sweet pussy lips peeking at him from behind, the roundness of your ass so fucking inviting, daring him to leave bite marks across the beautifully fat flesh.

And after a few moments of him staring so brazenly, saying nothing, simply drinking in the gorgeous sight of your body bent over, wearing so little clothing, wearing those perfect little lace panties-

(Stiles sped up his hand on his cock, the lube sounding downright sloppy in the silence of the room.)

You would stand up to your full height, come to him in the doorway, put your face so close to his and say:

“If you’re gonna spend so much time staring at me like a gaping idiot, then you should do something about it.”

Stiles had to stop the swift movements of his hand and clutch his grip tightly around the base of his cock, making his entire dick throb hard as he edged off his own orgasm.

He still wasn’t sure why the idea of you calling him an ‘idiot’ in such a brazen tone made him want to cum so hard - but he didn’t have time to unpack all that now.

He grabbed up the panties again with his non-lubed hand. Something in the back of his mind thought that it would be a crime for him to get them dirty. Another part argued that he would absolutely love to get them covered in his cum, not clean them, and then return them to you. That it would be fucking thrilling to have you wear them in that dirtied state.

Though he knew that would never fucking happen.

If he returned the panties to you covered in his cum, then you would slap him, call him a pervert, and likely have Scott beat the shit out of him with his newly harnessed werewolf strength. Stiles pushed this thought to the back of his mind, though.

Out of curiosity, he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a whiff. They smelled like fresh laundry - a nice lemony detergent. Of course they weren’t ones you had previously worn - they were a pair you had been planning on wearing tomorrow.

He distantly wondered if that meant you would not be wearing underwear tomorrow, because he had taken your intended pair. And that could have led his mind down a whole different filthy track, but instead - he began to wonder what a pair of your dirty underwear might smell like.

You should take a pair of used ones. A voice in his mind told him. Snatch them right out of the hamper. Come on, you’re over at her place all the time. She won’t even notice them gone.

Terrible idea. Terrible rabbit hole.

But what would they smell like?

He wasn’t deluded enough to think that pussy smelled like roses. He had never been close enough to one - a real pussy - before to actually know. Yes, he was a virgin. He could have said that he was waiting, ‘saving it’ for you - but every other girl, including you, was smart enough to look past him. There were plenty of other guys who were better looking and more charming than him, and probably better in bed than him, that girls had chosen instead of him.

He wondered if your pussy smelled like that perfect bit of sweat that you gathered at the end of a long day. Sometimes when he went to hug you before the two of you parted ways, he would catch a whiff of the tiniest undertone of musk, a good amount of sweat paired with the berry scented body spray you had put on that morning, and orange tic-tacs you had popped after lunch. It was a delectable combination.

He imagined that your cunt would smell like that bit of sweat, combined with the blueberry body wash you used - the one he knew about and loved because of the time you had insisted he use your shower while stinking up a study session because he had skipped the showers after lacrosse practice when he was late to be with you.

He imagined getting hints of that blueberry body wash smell coming off your thighs when his head was buried between them. What would your cunt taste like? That was a mystery he wanted to solve live.

He could always imagine the other aspects so well.

He could imagine the feeling of the heat under his tongue, the perfect feeling of your wetness mixing with his spit. He imagined getting to bounce your swollen clit against his tongue and while feeling your moans and cries of his name vibrate through your body as he pleasured you so well - the feeling of your pubes brushing against his cheeks as his entire face became soaked with your wetness.

But the taste - that was something he could never conjure up in his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

He knew that eating your pussy would be perfect. Not just because he would be giving you pleasure, serving you. But he so often dreamed of having his head smothered by your thighs, having you grab his head and shove him tighter into your cunt, you purposeful and demanding. You having that beautiful control over him while he drowned in your wetness.

He knew that he would likely cum in his pants from eating you out if he ever got the privilege of doing so, and even if you laughed at him - stupidly, he would find that hot too.

Stiles picked up the pace again, pumping his cock in hand evenly and firmly - even reaching down with the other hand to cradle his balls, gently rolling the flesh in his hand as he got lost in another fantasy of you.

He imagined the two of you in his bed - textbooks forgotten and pushed off onto the floor, your dress hiked up around your hips, and again, those fucking purple lace panties. He was on top of you, hovering on his knees so that his hard cock wouldn’t brush against you (even through his jeans) while the two of you sloppily made-out.

It wasn’t long before you pulled away from his kiss-swollen lips.

“Stiles,” You purred into his ear, kissing along his neck. “You know, you’re so pathetic.”

These words had his cock jumping, spurting out precum - in his fantasy, it made his underwear messy as you undid his fly.

In the real world, it made his hand messy as he continued to rhythmically jerk his cock.

“I’m not gonna let you fuck me.” You told him, contrasting these words with your intentions as you put your hands inside his waistband and shoved his pants and underwear down over his hips - down to his knees until his hard, throbbing cock was exposed. “Not until you prove yourself.”

Before Stiles could ask the question, the beautiful, fantastic you that he had made up inside his mind gave him the perfect answer.

“Get yourself off by rubbing your pathetic dick against my panties. And then - I might let you fuck me.”

In the real world, Stiles let out a throttled moan - a choked sound that surely would have had his father knocking on the door to ask if he was okay if he was at home. And then he rushed to grab the panties again, and without even thinking, he used his sticky lubed up hand to position the fabric around his dick. It was a coarse roughness compared to the slick smoothness he had previously been feeling, but it did wonders to complete his fantasy as he delved back to the you inside of his mind.

He started rubbing the slightly lube-sticky rough fabric up and down his dick at a very slow pace as he imagined it:

Being perched between your thighs, with the fabric of the panties stuck to your wet cunt, his cock hard and leaking as he tucked himself right up against you and began to rub his dick against you in order to get off. Just like you wanted, just like you had ordered him to do.

“Please.” Stiles chanted, the words leaking out of his lips, chanted into his empty bedroom as he pleaded to the imaginary you that would always have a hold over him - just as tight of a hold as the real you had. “Please, please - oh fuck.”

He moved the fabric over his cock faster as he moved his hips faster in the fantasy, imagining how hot your pussy would feel against him, imagining your nails digging into his hips as you looked up at him with mocking and adoration in your eyes. He imagined you forcing his hips faster, trapping him in place with your knees bracketed around his thighs, showing him absolutely no mercy.

“Please, please, please.” He chanted, knowing with a distant part of his mind that he must have sounded utterly delirious. “Please, Y/N, lemme cum-”

“Cum for me, Stiles.”

Confirmed by that fantasy version of you and truly unable to hold it any longer, Stiles arched up off the bed, cumming all over his own fist. Just as he had predicted, it was an utter, uncontrollable mess. He shot cum all over his stomach, and absolutely soaked the fabric of the panties - making a horrible mess of them. Which, the lube had definitely already done. He laid there for a single moment catching his breath before it truly hit him.

Fuck. He had fucked up.

You would definitely notice the underwear missing after a while and he certainly couldn’t return them to you in this condition.

…

Stiles spent the next hour in the bathroom, absolutely panicking over how to get them clean. Luckily, he wasn’t a total idiot and he looked up the washing instructions online - and after hand-washing them in warm water with a ‘gentle’ detergent (handsoap was the best that he could do), they came out perfectly clean.

The only problem?

Hang to dry.

He set his alarm for early, earlier than you suggested, and prayed that he wouldn’t sleep through it. In fact, he set three more alarms just to make sure. He couldn’t have you or his father barging into his room to wake him up when he had a pair of your stolen panties pinned to his corkboard in order to properly dry them so that he could sneak them back to you in good condition.

…

The next day, he departed for school by 6:45 with the stolen goods hidden away in his bag, ready to sneak them back into your room later that afternoon. He made it to the library ten whole minutes before seven, and you seemed shocked that he was not only on time - but early.

“Wow.” You said, having just gotten there yourself, spreading out your items at a table - including a tray with some coffees. “You know, Stiles, I am impressed.”

“You don’t have to act so - so shocked.” He replied, partially interrupted by a yawn.

You leaned over to get a pen from your bag, and Stiles’s eyes immediately went to your ass, unconsciously trying to spot panty lines through your dress and tights - wondering if you were even wearing underwear because he had stolen the ones you had intended for today.

Focus, Stiles. Focus.

“Well, if you weren’t here by seven sharp like I told you, I was gonna pour this in the garbage.” You told him, taking his coffee out of the paper tray and sliding it toward him.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” He chuckled, airy and light - very secretly annoyed with the way your ‘mean’ streak affected him sometimes. Why did he have to be turned on by you scolding him and punishing him? Why?

“Hey, if I’m not mean then you never get anything done.” You told him truthfully. “And you know how it works by now. Good boys get rewards and bad boys get spanked.” You told him, letting out a bright laugh - indicating that it was clearly meant to be a joke.

But instantly, it shook his mind with imagery of you bending him over the table, ripping his pants down and spanking him until he came untouched and cried for mercy, forcing him to agree that he would behave and listen to you. He became downright dizzy at the thought.

You meant it as a joke - he had to sharply remind himself. But the way you so casually called him a ‘good boy’, said that he was deserving of a ‘reward’ - it sent chills down his spine and already had his cock waking up. Too early. Bad rabbit hole.

If he was any sort of brave, he would have pushed it more and asked you what kind of ‘reward’ you had in mind. But he wasn’t, and he was too tired to analyze the potential consequences.

“Oh!” You said, as though suddenly remembering something. You moved to grab your bag again and Stiles closed his eyes to forcefully keep himself from staring at your ass. “You left this at my place last night.” You told him, sliding his English textbook across the table toward him.

He was too busy trying to calm his own lust that he missed the smirk on your face - the mischief lingering in your eyes, the intention in your tone. He was too caught up, drowning in his own affections for you that he never would have pieced together that you had taken in and hidden it on purpose as a ploy to get him to come back. That you had put out some other bait for him to find.

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “So - what do we need to go over before the test?”

“Everything.”

Stiles groaned.

...

A/N: Yes, there is a sequel for this fic in my drafts. It is something that I worked on during my hiatus. It's 10k long, and it's pretty much done.

If you would like to see the sequel edited and posted in a timely manner, I would like to see at least 30 reblogs and 25 comments on this fic - in the form of replies or anon asks.

102 people liked the preview for this fic and I know a lot of people are interested in it, so I am only asking for a 1/4 of the people who liked the preview to interact this fic before I release the sequel. But please, keep comments to the content of this fic rather than just asking for the next part to be released.

If you want to be tagged in the next part, you can ask to be put on my Teen Wolf taglist by interacting with this post, but please know that if you don't follow my taglist rules, you will be removed from the taglist promptly. If that happens, you are still welcome to read and enjoy future fics, you just won't be included in my taglists ever again.

Happy reading, and I hope you enjoyed the fic!!

#sundrop writes #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan o'brien smut #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf smut

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voltronisanobsession · 1 year

Text

A small teen wolf thought I had

I’m really missing season 1 Stiles, so let’s imagine him having a crush on reader😍

We all know how Stiles had an enormous crush on Lydia, it was absolutely devastating tbh. Like this dude was lowkey devoted to her💀💀

So what if a new student (reader) moved into town and it’s love at first sight for him. He’d bump into you after rambling to Scott about whatever was on his mind and knocks your binder and books to the ground.

Helping you pick up your stuff, right when he’s giving you your notebook, he’d look up and just. Stare. Cuz ZOOWEEMAMA YOURE ABSOLUTELY STUNNING IN HIS EYES

You’re busy thanking him and apologizing for the collision, waiting for him to let go of the notebook, voice slowly fading out when you notice him just staring at you with his mouth slightly open.

“Thanks for helping me. Can I have my book?”

“Uh huh.”

“…”

“Stiles, you know you have to let go of the notebook.” Scott is trying his best not to slam his head in a locker when his friend still doesn’t let go LMAO

Your chuckle snaps him out of whatever daze he was in, causing him to blush and apologize awkwardly. You’d smile at him and in good nature, joke about it and walk away, leaving him in awe.

Most people would normally give him the stink eye, but seeing how you joked about it made his heart flutter a bit.

Everything is HISTORY after that. If you have any classes with Stiles, you already KNOW he’s gonna try and sit as close to you as possible. Teacher assigns partner or group projects? He’s springing out of his seat and going to you first. You both have the same lunch period? He’s inviting you to sit with him and his friends. You’re having trouble with a certain class? Man, he’s already offering to help you after school, you’ll nail that test with flying colors!

You just get him! You like his sarcasm and MIRACULOUSLY understand his random references from movies and video games! With all the time you guys spend together, his crush on you grows more and more.

You appreciate how Stiles is so interested in the things you like and dislike. You love how he asks why you enjoy a certain movie despite the terrible reviews it got. Why you dislike an artist he just began listening to. You both love the same things, but have different opinions on everything, every conversation flows so naturally with him that you can’t help but develop a crush on him too.

You’ve never met anyone as eccentric and energetic as him, he never fails to bring a smile to your face teehee

Stiles is the type to remember every little, seemingly insignificant, thing about his crush. When your birthday rolls around, this dude has so many gifts ready😭 a warm feeling fills you when you open one gift to see it’s an item you’ve mentioned in a passing convo yall had MONTHS ago

He’s so sweet and kind with you too like don’t get me started. Stiles just enjoys being around you and seeing you happy makes him happy. SEASON 1 STILES IS THE DEFINITION OF PUPPY LOVE LIKE UGGHH

Takes you out on late night drives, barges into your room through the window with any takeout food you’ve been craving. Hed even take you out on a mini ‘date’ to the local arcade!!! his dad sees how much you mean to his son and is super happy that Stiles is happy. Loves when you come over to study with him, he’s always telling you stories about when stiles was younger (he would definitely cover your ears with his hands and speak loudly over his dad LMAO)

I’m telling y’all, stiles having a crush on you is the cutest thing ever, especially if you reciprocate his feelings!!!When you guys get together, cuz it’s not a matter of if with his friends, you’re the ultimate duo.

He’d confess his feelings for you in the most cheesiest way ever, probably during or after a school dance cuz why not.

UGH I NEED TO WRITE MORE STILES STUFF I LIVE HIM SM‼️ HE WAS NEVER THE SAME AFTER SEASON 3😭😭😭

#teen wolf x reader #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles teen wolf #stiles teen wolf x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf imagine #x reader #imagine #stiles stilinski

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lizzieisright · 5 months

Note

Alpha!Abby is such an oddly specific thing to write about, thank you for your service.

I've never sent a request to anyone ever before but I wanted to ask if you can write more alpha!abby.

Ahahaha, it will make more sense if you know that I spent my formative years in SPN and Teen wolf fandoms when they were at their peak, and in and out of kpop fandoms as well. (+ I worked on og story with omegaverse because I wanted wlw with a strong omega lead, which led to me getting really in depth with a/b/o, and now I'm quite fond of it)

Palestine: what can you do

Fri(end)s pt 2

alpha!abby x omega!reader

Summary: after you start dating, the question of sex comes up and Abby finds out you have 0 (zero) experience. So Abby, being an amazing partner, guides you through everything.

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), virgin!reader, no hurt only comfort, communication, they're incredibly comfortable with each other. for smut: dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering (r!receiving), penetrative sex (r!receiving).

a/n: it's a mammoth (8k). I know. I don't know how it happened.

tags: @ushijimaswife-77

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

There's no such a big difference between being friends with Abby and dating Abby. It might sound good since you're already super comfortable with each other, but being friends for so long with an alpha who is a player leaves its marks.

You constantly forget you have a claim on Abby. You see other omegas look at her, smell her, and you don't remember that you are her omega, not other people - you just chuckle and do nothing about it.

Abby gets confused because she can't stop fucking glaring at other alphas - but Abby is a possessive asshole, she knew it would happen. Still, you don't act like you're a couple sometimes, and it kinda hurts.

Abby watches how once again you freeze when another omega looks at her, your scent going just a bit sour, but you still do nothing, and Abby presses down her frustration.

It hits her only after two weeks of you doing it, why you’re doing it. She realises it when you two are sitting in her living room, drinking wine and chatting, like always, and when she does, she is filled with desire to tease you.

“I have a question.” Abby asks with a cocky grin, and you roll your eyes fondly. “You know you can scent me, right?”

Your eyes go comically big before you understand what she is saying, but then you avoid looking at her - not in a bad manner, but more like you want to hide from her.

“Um. Yeah. Right.” Abby laughs kindly and tugs you so you could sit on her lap. You're clearly embarrassed by your own obliviousness, and Abby wants to tease you so bad.

“Since we're dating? And I literally told you I'm yours?” You groan and Abby laughs harder.

“I'm so used to you fucking every pretty omega you see, my mind hasn't caught up yet.” You mutter, trying to defend yourself, but Abby's pretty laugh makes you smile. “Did it upset you?”

“A little. But I knew you wouldn't be cruel like this to me, so I figured you had a different reason.”

Your heart breaks a little and you take Abby's face into your palms, staring into her pretty blue eyes, while her arms are wrapped around your back.

“I love you.” You say with all your soul.

Abby blinks, her mouth falls open. She blinks again. Then her whole face goes red. You giggle and kiss her forehead.

“Thank you.” Abby says eventually and you laugh harder.

“What kind of response is this?”

Abby blinks and buries her face in your shoulder, embarrassed.

“I love you too. And I'm thankful for your love.”

You giggle and kiss Abby, pressing closer to her as her scent envelopes both of you. Abby holds you so tightly you can't take a full breath, but you don't care, you like being close to her.

You break the kiss and very tentatively, as if you expect Abby to stop you, rub against her scent glands. Abby's fingers dig into your ass and she sighs, her voice low. The room starts smelling like arousal and Abby chuckles.

“Have you caught up on the fact that I really want to fuck you or do you need more explicit confirmation for it as well?”

Your face burns with Abby's every word, but then there's a sudden smell of anxiety that makes Abby slow down.

“We don't have to do anything if you don't want to.” She reassures you, her hand caressing your back to bring you some comfort. Abby really doesn't like being a cause for your anxiety, especially in a topic that requires trust.

“Thanks.” You sigh and cringe at yourself. You're an adult, for fuck’s sake, there's nothing to be ashamed of. “I just.” You take a longer breath. You feel humiliated - not by Abby, never by her, but by some social expectations. “Please don't be weird about it. I'm a virgin.”

Abby freezes. You watch her blank face nervously - you don't know how she'll react. You keep repeating “there's nothing to be ashamed of” over and over in your head, but you start to crumble when Abby stays silent.

“You're being weird about it.” You chuckle nervously. Abby shakes her head and smiles.

“Sorry.” She then grins like she won this life. “I know it's stupid, but it makes me happy.”

You understand what Abby is saying: she is happy you trust her with this. She is also smug as fuck, this asshole, and you don’t say anything more - you’re not going to boost her ego out of the stratosphere.

“Do you want to have sex someday?” Abby asks gently, watching your face as your scent keeps being sour. She wants to comfort you, any way she can.

“Yeah. It's not like I don't know what it is, heat really makes you creative. But I've never been with another person. I'm nervous.” You tell Abby honestly. She nods, although your scent tells her you’re more scared than nervous.

“You've never smelled of anxiety before, when I flirted with you. Is it different because now it's a real possibility?”

You take a moment to think about it, and then nod.

“Yeah. I mean, I knew I wouldn't let us have sex, and you also knew I'd regret it, so I wasn't worried when we'd make out.”

Abby hums, figuring out how to handle this conversation and make you feel safe.

“What are you nervous about?”

You take a moment to think - it's not like you haven't spent time worrying about it, but you're not with some imaginary stranger right now, you're with Abby, so you make an effort to pinpoint the exact reason.

“Doing something wrong. You know how I always have to get everything right on the first try, and I guess sex is not an exception. Plus, you have so much experience and I'd be lying if I said it doesn't make me feel insecure.”

Abby hums again, thinking about your words.

“Got it. Well, I mean- having experience is great for building confidence and seeing how diverse people can be, but when you come down to it, every person is different. Every time when I was with a new person, it was the first time all over again, except my hands didn't shake and I didn't cum in the first five minutes.”

It makes you feel better and you chuckle. You're grateful for Abby taking such care with her words.

“Do you know what I like in bed? Do I know what you like in bed? I've got some experience, but we have no experience with each other. You know, even if you weren't a virgin, I'd still be nervous too.”

You laugh at this, not being able to imagine this alpha nervous. Abby doesn't do nervous. She is hot and confident and knows what she is doing.

“Would you?” You ask sceptically.

“Of course! You're my dream girl, I want it to be perfect.”

“You're such a sap.” You shake your head and kiss Abby, the smell of love and affection filling your noses. “Thanks. For being so patient with me.”

“Shut up, it's basic decency.”

“Well, when you put it this way, thanks for being basically decent with me.”

Abby pouts and you laugh, kissing her again.

You decide to take it slow so you can get used to being close to Abby in a different way. You talk about it more later on, go on a “let's get tested” date and make a system as Abby would slowly introduce new things to you and you'd tell her if it's something you like or not.

You're very eager to explore Abby's weak points - seeing what makes her run electric. You get fond of kissing her neck and rubbing circles into her hip bones - it never fails to get a sigh or a grunt out of her. Abby loves how enthusiastic you are, especially when you get all sciency-like with her and experiment on different parts of her body - that's how Abby finds out her sides are actually pretty sensitive. It's more playful than sensual, but you progressively get more comfortable with her.

Then you start touching each other under your clothes, and Abby has a hard time not growling into your mouth as you trace her newfound sensitive sides with your warm fingertips, while Abby gets to explore your back, running her fingers over your spine. She doesn't hurry into touching your tits under your shirt - only when you hesitantly cup her rib cage with both of your hands and run your thumb under her tits, Abby feels like she is free to do the same. Still, she needs it to be talked about.

“You can touch me, if you want.” Abby rumbles into your neck, sniffing this beautiful scent of arousal and love. “Do you want me to touch your tits?”

“Yeah.” You smile and Abby giggles before carefully cupping you right tit. You copy her and sigh, surprised. “Oh. It feels good. Yours is so soft.”

Abby laughs kindly at your childlike wonder and kisses you.

“They're sensitive too.” You grin and squeeze Abby's tit, but in your eagerness you do it too hard and Abby jumps. “Easy.”

“Sorry.” You ease up and gently run your fingers over Abby's nipple. “Does it feel good?”

Abby chuckles and runs her thumb over your nipple. You sigh and shudder, suddenly very turned on.

“You tell me. Does it?”

“Uh- yes.” You pant and Abby keeps brushing her thumb over your nipple, making you squirm. “Shit. I didn't even-” Your hips start to move and Abby watches you as you get desperate and needy. She can fucking smell how wet you are.

“If you want, you can rub against my thigh. Make yourself cum while I play with your nipples.”

You think about it for a moment.

“Okay.” You pant, but then you get an even better idea. “Wait, can we, um-” You swallow as you try to get your brain together, a little overwhelmed: Abby's touch is so much more pleasant. “Can you grind against me? So we both cum? Or it doesn't work f-”

You don't get to finish your sentence because Abby turns you on your back and gets between your legs.

“I fucking love your brain.”

You grin and let Abby part your legs, even though it makes you nervous. Abby can smell it, so she checks in with you.

“You okay? Wanna stop?”

“No, fuck no. Maybe slow down a little?”

Abby nods and doesn't make any quick movements. She puts your legs over her thighs, letting your knees rest there, but she doesn't move closer until you feel comfortable, caressing your thighs. You can see the tent in her pants and it makes you feel all giddy - you will never get tired of getting Abby hard.

“Come here.” You tug Abby down and she grins before kissing you.

Abby holds herself on her forearm while the other arm slowly guides your thigh on her hip, slow enough so you could stop her before she puts all her weight on you - it might feel safe, but it also might feel scary to be caged like this. But you eagerly let her manipulate you and buck your hips - you love having Abby’s weight on you. You can't help but arch into her desperately, keeping your legs spread wide.

“Fuck, it reminds of that time when you were with me during my heat.” You murmur and brush baby hairs out of Abby's face.

Abby smiles, visibly trying to be all collected and calm for your sake, but her scent betrays her - it's overpowered with lust. Her blue eyes have sprinkles of red in them and you grin.

“Move, Abby.” You laugh, and Abby laughs too, but then she presses her clothed cock against your covered pussy- “Uh!”

Abby smirks at you and starts slowly grinding her hips, while you try to not make any embarrassing sounds. It feels amazing, her cock is thick enough to rub you in all the right places, the tip of her dick catching on your clit and making you swallow another whimper.

“Do you want me to touch your nipples?”

You nod and Abby slides her hand under your shirt, rubbing and lightly pinching your nipple. You bite your lip before any embarrassing sound can escape, and Abby would find it endearing, but she wants to hear you.

“Hey, I wanna hear. Let it out. Let me know that I'm making you feel good.” Abby pants. Her cock rubs against your clit just right and you whimper quietly. “Yeah. Good.”

“If you call me- fuck! If you call me good girl I'll-”

“What? You'll cum?”

You buck your hips and glare at Abby: and she knows you're playful, but she's also scared of hurting you with unnecessary teasing.

“Do you want me to call you a good girl?” Abby asks genuinely and you get all flustered, not answering her question.

Abby kisses you behind your ear and you shudder. God her cock feels good and it's not even inside you yet, it's absolutely not fair. It is also unfair that Abby makes you feel good and you're doing nothing, so you slide your hands under her shirt and hold her sides, stroking them with your thumb. Abby's pace stutters and you grin.

“You're a menace.” Abby growls and pinches your nipples a little harder.

Her grinding gets quicker, bringing you closer to your orgasm. You wish you didn't have two layers of clothing between you, that you could feel Abby for real.

“Abby-” You whimper her name and Abby grunts, her hand squeezing your tit almost painfully. Her thrusts become erratic and you feel like you're on fire: Abby is cumming, her scent spiking with pleasure. She is going to cum because you said her name, oh god. “Abby, please-” You whimper again and Abby moans, her other hand gripping the blanket you're laying on. Her hips shake as she keeps grinding against you and you buck your hips, wanting to cum with her.

“Call me-” You ask Abby, desperate, hoping she will understand.

“Good girl, such a good fucking girl-” Abby growls and you cum with a quiet shriek, your thighs closing on Abby. She watches you like she's obsessed, like she is witnessing a miracle, and her dick keeps twitching and soiling her pants.

It takes a minute for both of you to even out your breathing, and then you laugh, covering your eyes in embarrassment.

“Wow. You're so fucking hot.” You tell Abby and she kisses your tit through your shirt. “Do you think when we get to real sex it will feel even better?”

“Just because I didn't put my dick in you doesn't mean this wasn't real sex, babe.” Abby murmurs, tired. “Who knows. Maybe you'll try it and feel like this is better. There's only one way to find out.”

You huff fondly and run your fingers across Abby's shoulders.

“Have you ever been with virgins before?”

Abby hums in agreement.

“A few. It was cool.”

“Was it awkward?” You ask out of curiosity: you don't feel awkward with Abby at all. She is your comfort person.

“I mean, not really. It was when one of them didn't tell me she was a virgin and I hurt her. So you know, thanks for telling me.”

“O wow. That must've sucked.”

“Well, we stopped and I ate her out in the end.”

“Oh.” You feel your face warming up.

Abby catches your little “oh” and looks up, curious. She thinks back to her words and grins.

“Wanna try? I'd love to eat you out.”

“Yeah. Sounds great.” You laugh, cringing at yourself kindly. “I feel like we won't go all the way before my heat with all of these things you can show me.”

“We're not going to rush. We'll find plenty of ways to fuck anyway, so if you want me to be with you during your heat, we'll figure it out.”

“Of course I want you to be with me, you dum-dum. You're my alpha.”

Abby wiggles on top of you and you kiss her head.

“You're a fucking simp.”

Abby bites your shoulder and you bite her too.

Now that you two are being more close than before you started dating, you finally feel the pull to mark Abby and glare at other omegas - of course they want Abby, she is fucking perfect, but she is yours.

You have it on good authority. Abby told you. Herself.

You start scenting Abby and she beams every time. She also notices your glares and she can't be happier - she loves when you get possessive. One night she teaches you how to leave hickeys, and you leave an absolutely gigantic one - you really opened your mouth wide for this one - and Abby, who is notorious for having no shame, feels the need to cover that one up because it's scandalous. You grin, satisfied, every time you look at it and Abby gives up. She stops wearing her turtlenecks.

After a few months, the campus finally accepts that Abby Anderson is now taken. Omegas stop looking at her like they have a chance, but keep looking at her like she is a god. You don't mind.

After that time when Abby made you both cum in your pants, you grow impatient. You don't rush with the whole penetration thing - you’ve felt how big Abby is and it is intimidating - but you want to get naked. You want to feel Abby’s skin, and feel her with your lips and feel her lips on you. (You might wanna grind on her cock as well)

“I wanna take my shirt off.” You tell Abby when you're making out in your living room: Abby is half lying on the couch while you're on top of her.

“Please do.” Abby smirks.

“I want you to take off your shirt as well.”

Abby doesn't say anything and just tugs her shirt off and then helps you take yours off. Abby stares for a moment, mesmerised by your tits - she knew you didn't have a bra on - they're pretty, they're soft and Abby really wants to play with your nipples and see if you'd be sensitive too when she will use her mouth.

“Holy fuck, doll. You're fucking beautiful.” Abby marvels and brushes her fingers over your warm skin, going from your shoulders to your hips.

“Take your bra off.” You nod at Abby's last defence and she takes it off so quickly she almost gets stuck in it. You lie down, pressing your chest on her chest and it feels so good. Abby is so warm and yes, she is pure muscle, her abs and chest are very defined, but she is still very soft. You kiss her shoulder right above her collarbone and Abby grips your waist harder. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah.” Abby sighs, happy. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“I want to get fully naked.”

“Jesus Christ.” Abby swallows. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“I thought maybe I should take you on that offer to eat me out?”

The way Abby's eyes don't take even a second to become bright red makes you giggle. Abby tries to suppress her desire to make you submit to her, but you feel her alpha presence getting stronger and more suffocating than ever. You nuzzle into her neck and Abby growls quietly, like a teenager - but you know she is fighting herself on just doing everything her way. You know it's tempting - you can't say you haven't fantasied about Abby just pinning you down and fucking you until you can't take it anymore - but Abby does have amazing self-control. Even if her presence tells you how much she wants to just bend you over and fuck you through this couch, her hands are gentle and she doesn't move.

“But first let's just get naked.” You smile and Abby nods.

You both strip completely and you just stare at each other. Your cheeks burn as you trace Abby with your eyes: her long legs, muscular thighs, her half-hard cock with curly blonde pubes around it, the v-line of her hips, her abs, perky little tits, her round, muscular shoulders, her arms. God, her arms. Soft, strong fingers, veiny wrists from lifting weights, chiselled forearms, the curves of her biceps and triceps. Abby looks like a god, her blonde hair almost like a halo, liquid gold around her. You don't want to stop looking, trying to see every mole and every scar on her.

You get so stuck staring at Abby you don't have a moment to get self-conscious, but then Abby reaches for your hand and the spell breaks. You realise you were just standing there, fully naked, in front of a literal Greek goddess, and your insecurities flare up.

“I really need to hit the gym, huh.” You try to joke, but Abby doesn't buy it.

“You're perfect.” Abby says with all the love she has in her heart. “I’m so privileged to get to see you like this.”

You chuckle, but hug Abby around her neck as she kisses you softly. She holds your waist, but as you're kissing, her hands start wandering over your hips, your back, stopping at your sides just to feel your curves. It feels good, having her warm strong hands all over you, and you press closer, feeling Abby's cock poke your stomach. Abby hums into the kiss and gently grabs your ass, messaging it.

“Bedroom?” Abby asks in a raspy voice and you nod.

You giggle as you walk to the bedroom holding hands, fully naked, and Abby chuckles at you - she loves how much fun you have, how comfortable you are with her. You're still nervous, but you don't smell sour anymore, and it's all Abby needs.

You climb the bed and watch Abby climb after you with a smile, opening your arms for her as she lies on top of you. You feel her cock and you can't help yourself - you buck your hips and sigh.

“Stop it.” Abby laughs and you buck your hips again. Abby gets harder and her grip on your waist gets tighter. “I'm gonna get you for that.”

“Yeah?”

Abby wants your cocky smile gone, so she leans to your neck and sucks a hickey into your skin, making you squeak and shudder under her. Abby smiles, her canines grazing your skin and you feel yourself getting wet. Abby is so damn hot.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Yes, fuck-” You sigh and pet Abby on her head, weaving your fingers into her hair. “Is it okay?”

“Yeah.”

Abby starts leaving kisses all over your shoulders and chest, avoiding your tits at first, but then she feels confident enough to wrap her lips around your nipple and you gasp. Abby can smell how wet you're getting and she growls, her control slipping away.

She can't help it: you're pretty, pliant under her, you make the best noises and you're hers. She wants to sink her teeth in you.

“Fuck, it feels good.” You sigh like you're surprised. Abby chuckles and sucks on your nipple making you sigh louder, not moaning yet, but not quiet anymore. “Are yours this sensitive too?” You manage to ask and then you yelp when Abby gently bites you.

“Yeah.” Abby frowns when she sees your excited eyes. “No, right now you're just going to lie and be pretty for me.”

Your breath hitches - your body relaxes immediately and your head falls down on the pillow. You feel all fuzzy and horny, ready to do whatever Abby tells you to do, whatever your alpha tells you to do. Your thighs relax and Abby presses closer, her abs pressing against your cunt. The change in your behaviour is so sudden Abby slows down and looks at you, only to groan helplessly: your eyes are golden and pleading, inviting her to destroy you.

“Breathe.” Abby tells you and you breathe for a minute. Your head gets clearer and the golden of your eyes fades away.

“What the fuck was that?” You pant, surprised. You don't smell scared or anxious, and Abby can breathe easier.

“I accidentally used my voice on you.”

“Uh. Okay. So that's how it feels. Cool. Good to know.” Abby laughs and you laugh too before tugging her up and kissing her. Abby is getting impatient, so she breaks the kiss and resumes her trail down your body. She licks your nipple and you squeak again, but then she goes lower, kissing your stomach with an open mouth, biting you gently, while her hands bend your legs. Abby is so close to your pulsing cunt she has to force herself to be slow, and judging by how your scent changes just a little sour, it's for the best.

“This is embarrassing.” You laugh and cover your eyes when Abby finally moves down and puts your legs on her shoulders.

Abby kisses your thigh, ignoring the scent of your dripping pussy - she wants to bury her face in you - and then she blows a raspberry on your skin. You jump and laugh, glaring at Abby fondly, but she only blows another one.

“This is very unsexy of you.”

“Not true. I can smell how horny you're. You liked it.” Abby smirks, noticing how the sour smell left your scent almost completely.

You huff, but all your giggles stop when Abby kisses your thigh lower - you can feel her hair tickling your pussy. She moves lower and you fist the blanket under you: even feeling Abby's head move between your legs is already a lot. But it also so fucking hot, and then you feel her breath on your pubic bone and you grip her hair tighter.

“You smell so fucking good.” Abby says reverently, dragging her nose over your pussy. You're tense, so fucking tense under her, but you don't smell like you're distressed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it's just a lot. Every time you move I feel it so intensely.”

“Take a breath for me and relax.” You listen to Abby and breathe out, relaxing.

Abby is slow: she kisses all around your pussy, the junction of your thighs, your lips, your pubic bone. You're suffocating in her scent, you feel already devoured by her with the heavy scent of possession and dominance filling your nose. It helps you relax and Abby finally opens your thighs so she could eat you out properly. Her eyes are red and she can't help her growling - god, if you ever want to mate her she'll leave her bite right between your legs, because this pussy is hers.

Abby licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and you jump, your grip in Abby's hair tight.

“Fuck!”

Abby doesn't listen anymore: she tasted you and her brain waved goodbye. She licks all of your pussy, rubs your clit gently while you whine above her. You can't keep your legs open, caging her between your thighs, so Abby wraps her arms around them and pins you down, her instincts going berserk with the want to keep you under her control.

You look at her biceps bulging and roll your eyes in pleasure, letting the word “alpha” escape your mouth.

Abby's brain short-circuits and she moans into your cunt, humping the bed. You buck your hips in response but she just presses you down and shoves her tongue inside you, moaning at your taste. You squeak and get up on your elbows, overwhelmed: it's too much and absolutely not enough, having Abby's mouth on you, hearing all the noises she makes because of you, smelling her scent dominating you. It's good, it's so good and you feel so empty, you need to have her inside you.

“Abby- fuck-” You screw your eyes shut when she sucks on your clit. “I wanna- want a finger.”

Abby looks up and you fall back on the bed after meeting her feral eyes: you submit to her fully, and Abby smirks, satisfied. Abby moves away and watches your soaked pussy for a moment before caressing it with her fingers, making you twitch when she touches your clit.

“How many do you usually use?” Abby rasps.

“Two.” You whimper. Abby hums and slowly, very slowly, pushes one finger inside.

“God, baby.” Abby sighs dreamingly. “So tight.”

“I'm a virgin, Abby.” You giggle, but feeling Abby inside distracts you.

Abby tries not to think how you'll feel around her dick, so hot and tight, clenching around her, but even a glimpse of it makes her hump the bed. She watches your face as you get used to having someone else's finger inside of you, and then she curls her finger gently. You gasp, and nod, humming in approval.

Abby starts moving her finger and curling it, seeing your cum collect at the base of her finger. It takes you little time before you relax and Abby pushes the second finger in. It's tighter and Abby doesn't move her fingers when she smells a faint scent of hurt.

“Hurts?”

“I like it.” You say shortly, because you do like feeling how Abby stretches you. You think about her dick stretching you and you clench around Abby's fingers, making her growl, her self-control crumbling.

You don't need Abby to be careful, but she still is, curling her fingers gently. You're moaning quietly on every curl and the hurt evaporates from your scent - it's beautiful. Abby puts her mouth back on you and you whine when her thrusts inside you match the pace of her tongue on your clit.

“Oh my god you'll make me cum.” You whimper and Abby groans, her humping gets more aggressive. You fist the blanket in your fingers, feeling your lower stomach tensing in approaching orgasm. “Shit, oh my god, Abby, please-”

You grip her hair tighter, practically shoving her face into your cunt and Abby moans again: she loves feeling your fingers in her hair, loves hearing you beg.

It takes one more gentle curl for your whole body to tense and a loud whimper to escape your throat. Your scent spikes in euphoria and Abby groans when she feels how you pulsate around her fingers. She drags her cock over the covers and shudders, too turned on, while she watches your face. You're fucking divine like this, cumming on her fingers, the only thing keeping you still is Abby's grip on your hips.

“Abby, oh my god, fuck!” You moan and your hips jump when Abby sucks on your clit, but the pleasure starts to hurt. “It's too much, please-”

Abby moves away and watches your cunt flutter around her fingers rhythmically, drenching her hand. She is spellbound, and for a moment you two are in separate worlds: you're coming down from your high and she is somewhere in her darkest fantasies. Abby will never hurt you, but she cannot not think about fucking you right now, pushing inside you and not letting you escape her, splitting you on her cock.

You take a big breath to calm yourself down, but then you look at Abby and gulp: her eyes are so dark with something hot and dangerous. It makes you shudder and you remember that she hasn't cum yet.

“Abby-” Her sharp eyes look up and you feel like you're in front of a predator. “Come here, baby.”

Abby climbs on top of you, her fingers still trapped inside you, and you kiss her. You feel her cock poking your thigh and suddenly you’re overcome with the need to make her to cum.

“I wanna fuck you so bad.” Abby admits and licks your neck, half-feral.

“I wanna make you cum.” You tell her and kiss her temple. “Lie down.”

Abby slowly takes her fingers out of you and licks them clean, making your face burn, but you don't stay embarrassed long: Abby lies on her back and you're presented with the magnificence that she is.

“I'll need your help.” You tell her: even though you're very turned on, you're still intimidated. For a moment you feel like you bit more than you could chew, but Abby gently pets your head and nods.

“Of course. Don't push yourself, doll.”

You feel easier after that and lean down to kiss Abby's scent glands. She squeezes your thigh and hums in pleasure. You move lower, kissing her sternum and then, like under some spell, you latch onto her nipple. Abby twitches and moans quietly, and your ears ring: it was one thing hearing Abby groan when she was between your legs, and another thing knowing it's your direct actions that make her moan.

Your eyes fall on her stomach, where the precum is glistening, dripping from her hard, wet cock. Abby is big, fuck she is big, and you mouth salivates. You try not to think how it's going to fit in you one day, but right now you really want to fit it in your mouth.

You crawl between her legs and Abby gulps while her fingers grab your hair. She is not guiding your head, letting you control the pace. You wrap your fingers around her cock and Abby hisses, so turned on by seeing your hand on her dick. You look up, panicking that you hurt her, but Abby's scent only spikes with joy.

“Tighter, baby.” Abby pants and you listen, eagerly wrapping your hand tighter and pumping her cock. Abby starts panting, her chest heaving, and you smile.

“I love seeing you like this.” You murmur and then, in a sudden wave of bravery, you lean down, licking the head of her dick. Abby grips your hair tighter, almost causing pain, but you don't care.

You take your time to adjust to the velvet soft texture and the salty taste, but the more you lick, the more addicted you get, especially smelling her growing arousal, her desire to break you.

“Shit, baby.” Abby growls and very lightly pushes your head down: you don't even register it at first, but then you eagerly swallow her down, as much as you can take. Abby moans and her thighs shake: your mouth is hot and wet, and Abby breathes through her nose to not cum immediately.

You notice and grin before sucking on her head, whirling your tongue slowly. Abby groans, soft delicate sounds falling from her lips and you look up to her, making eye contact.

“I won't last long, babe.” Abby growls and you wiggle your butt, delighted. “Yeah? You like the thought that you can make me cum so soon?” You hum in agreement and Abby's head falls on the pillow. “Shit!”

This is interesting. You keep moaning around Abby's cock, sucking her off as best as you can, and then you cup her balls gently, scared to hurt her. Abby moans, loud, and you wish you had something inside you right now to compensate for emptiness Abby’s fingers left in you. It's so hot seeing Abby coming undone, Abby, who probably had way better blowjobs in her life, but because it's you, it turns her into a teenager.

“Fuck. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum.” Abby moans and you hum again. “Fuck!”

You let Abby cum in your mouth, even though you don't know quite what to expect - but you feel her balls tighten and her cock pulsate as your mouth gets filled with her cum, and you don’t move away, too greedy. It's a lot, but it's not unpleasant, although you can't keep up and swallow everything. You let her dick out of your mouth and a few spurts end up on your face.

Abby pants and moans, watching your surprised face: she laughs through her moans and wipes your cheek with a shaking hand.

“Thank you, baby.”

You grin and flop on top of Abby, kissing her. You both are covered in cum, and it makes you giggle, knowing you're gonna smell like each other for the next few days.

“Love you.” Abby murmurs, sleepy: she always wants to nap after sex. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing. Can't wait for you to fuck me properly.”

“Whenever you want, babe. Whenever you want.”

It's ironic, but you have your first “real” sex (cue’s Abby's eye roll) in the morning. It's Saturday and you both sleep in: Abby's holding you close even in her sleep, her arm wrapped around your waist. You wake up earlier than Abby and giggle: not the first time when you wake up with Abby's hard cock pressing into you. You have no idea what she is dreaming about, but you hope it's you.

And this time, you can actually do something about it. You snuggle closer to her and kiss Abby's scent glands, making her sigh. It makes you grin and you snake your hand down into her boxers, lightly brushing your fingertips over her cock. Abby sighs again and bucks her hips, seeking more, but you stop and kiss her neck again.

“Abby.” You call sweetly, not wanting to startle her, and she hums. “Wake up.”

“What's up?”

“Your dick.”

Abby laughs at this and you smile, happy.

“Wanna do something about it?”

You hum and stroke Abby's cock gently, feather like - the quickest way to get her worked up. Her scent gets heavier and you chuckle, gripping her cock tighter. Abby grunts and sneaks her arm behind your back, prodding at your hole - you're wet, your thighs are sticky with your cum.

“Got yourself worked up, huh?” Abby asks, her voice still sleepy and raspy. You nod and wiggle your butt, trying to get her fingers inside you. “How about you ride me?”

You gulp, suddenly extremely turned on, your scent getting thicker with desire, and Abby moves the blanket away. She helps you straddle her and you part your lips so they're on either side of Abby's cock, your clit dragging over her length. It's hot, you love covering Abby in your cum, feeling extremely possessive over her.

Abby holds your hips in her strong hands and guides your moves on top of her, keeping them slow. You both pant and moan, you twitch when Abby pinches your nipple under your shirt.

“Take it off.” Abby growls and you smile, a little fuzzy from her voice: she can't always control it, ordering you around. You throw your shirt somewhere and Abby grunts: seeing you on top of her, confident, safe, giggling and moaning, is the best view in her life.

Abby squeezes your sides when your clit catches on the head of her cock, and when you slide up, you feel her poking your hole. It sends a hot wave down your spine and you try to do it again, slowing down every time you grind back, making Abby's cock press into you.

Abby catches up on your actions and moans: you are a menace. She wishes you pushed a little harder, pulled her inside, into your tight, hot cunt.

“Abby-”

“Yeah, baby?” Abby pants, watching your determined face.

“Fuck me.”

Abby blinks and digs her fingers into your thighs, so fucking turned on: you want to take her. She will finally claim you, she will be the first (and the last) person you trust with this. You still smell a little nervous, but Abby learnt to read it by now: when you're good nervous and bad nervous. This seems to be a "good nervous" scent.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Abby brings you down and kisses you, kneading your ass so you could keep grinding against her, her scent quickly growing agressive. She pushes one finger in carefully and you moan, desperate.

“Abby, please-” You beg and Abby gulps, fighting for her self-control.

She turns you both and slides down to put her mouth on you, and you whimper when Abby gently sucks on your clit. You're wet and you smell like her, your scents mixing together. It drives Abby crazy: she wants to mate you so fucking bad, she wants you to be hers for the rest of your lives.

You take two of her fingers easily, dripping down her palm after all these times Abby fingered you, and Abby licks up all of your cum, addicted to your taste. But then Abby presses the third finger in and you grip her hair, excited. It goes tighter, but you love it - you even get a little sad when the sting of the stretch passes. Abby curls her fingers and you jump, dangerously close to your orgasm.

“Abby- Don't- don't make me cum.” You beg through your moans and Abby looks up.

“Why?”

“Want to cum on your cock.”

Abby would laugh if it didn't turn her on so much. She sucks your clit on purpose and you jump before tugging on her hair.

“I swear to god-” You start your threat but Abby curls her fingers, making you squeak.

But Abby slows down: she wants you dripping, relaxed and blissed out before she fucks you. She keeps moving her fingers slowly while she licks and sucks on your pussy, and you sigh sweetly above her, your grip on her hair relaxing. Abby is almost lazy, but she watches you intently. You're wet, your cum mixed with her saliva and Abby moans quietly, getting off on the fact that she marked you. Your thighs start twitching soon, and you tug on Abby's hair again.

“Come here.” You ask, and Abby obeys. She slowly takes her fingers out and kisses you, letting you taste yourself. You moan when you feel Abby's taste lingering as well.

“You're so beautiful.” Abby murmurs into your neck as she nuzzles you, wanting to comfort you and make you feel safe.

You nuzzle back, grinning: you love how Abby takes care of you. You hug her shoulders and kiss her gently, slowing down as well. Abby snakes her hand between your bodies and slowly circles your clit with her thumb, watching intently as your face changes from pleasure; she tries not to overwhelm you. You sigh softly and Abby chuckles into your shoulder.

“You're cute.”

“Fuck off.” You laugh, embarrassed. Abby laughs too and kisses your tit before gently sucking on your nipple. You thread your fingers through Abby's hair and arch into her. “I love you.”

Abby's scent spikes and you giggle.

“Love you so much.” She whispers feverishly into your skin.

She takes a pillow and puts it under your butt, making you comfortable. Both of your clothes are around you and you feel extremely safe. It's Abby, it's your alpha, she will take care of you. You spread your legs and Abby parts your folds, replacing her thumb with her cock. You sigh and shake under her, too sensitive. You love when you grind against each other: it's so intimate and perfect. You know Abby loves it too, your slick making the best sounds for Abby's ears.

You watch Abby frown and bite her lip to not make any sounds, so you kiss her, not letting her hide from you. Your clit catches on the head of her cock again and you both moan.

“Come on, baby.” You encourage Abby and she nods, lining up her cock with your hole.

“If I smell hurt, we're stopping.” She warns you and you nod. You don't want your alpha to know she hurt you during your most vulnerable time either.

Abby doesn't push right away, just lightly pressing on the edges of your hole like you did it yourself before, but when she gets the head of her cock wet enough, she pushes harder.

“God.” Abby sighs, feeling your tight walls squeeze her cock. You don't smell like pain so Abby pushes further while you cling to her shoulders. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

You hum, but you're too concentrated on your own feelings: Abby is so big and it's a lot, it's intense and feels so different from her fingers. You're thankful she doesn't go all the way in, giving you time. Abby slowly pushes back and forth, fucking your gently until all of her length is inside you, and you relish in the feeling of her being in you. Abby bottoms out and you cling to her, turned on from being so full, so stretched. It doesn't hurt but it still stings a little - and you like it. You like knowing Abby is a little too big for you.

“I'm gonna cum.” You whine when Abby slowly thrusts inside. You need one little touch to your clit and you'll come undone, you're sure of it. “Slowly, yeah?”

Abby nods and kisses you as she slowly fucks you; she doesn't go all the way out, letting you get used to it. You moan softly as she moves, her cock touching every nerve ending in your walls.

“Good?” Abby asks, and you understand that she is nervous. Your heart swells with affection and your scent spikes with love.

“Perfect.” You smile and kiss her. “You can go harder.”

Abby grips your thighs and thrusts hard enough to punch the air out of you. You choke on your moan and Abby pulls out, watching her cock glisten with your cum. It makes her feral and she gets more confident, fucking you harder, letting her hips slap against yours. It's intense and you can't think, overwhelmed by how good it feels, so you let your brain go all fizzy.

“Fuck, Abby, please.” You whine desperately and Abby swallowa, gripping you harder. She doesn't want to hurt you, but you start bucking your hips, trying to get Abby deeper and that's it.

Abby’s scent changes: it’s suffocating now, bending you to her will, dark and possessive. Abby pins your thighs to the bed and starts hammering inside you, growling on every thrust. She knows you can take it, smells your pleasure, so Abby doesn't restrain herself. She fucks you hard and fast, listening to your whines and whimpers with the only thought in her head:

“Mine.” Abby growls and you bare your throat for her like a good little omega you are. “You were made for my cock, taking it so well on your first try, huh? Good fucking girl.” Abby leans down and sucks a hickey into your scent glands, claiming you.

Your eyes roll into your skull and you claw at Abby's shoulders, so desperate. You're close, but your brain is a mush and you can only beg. Abby smirks and moves her hand down your thigh so she can hold you open and flick your clit with her thumb.

You shake and cum with a loud moan, spasming around Abby's cock, and she groans. Abby bottoms out and stills, letting herself feel it, how your walls trap her inside. It's better than any of the fantasies she had before: not only you're so tight around her, but you're also so fucking pretty, with her mark blooming on your neck, your throat still bared. You're vulnerable, trusting, and Abby feels honoured she can get you to this point. But then she gets hungry. She starts moving again, and you're lost in your pleasure now: your head is so fuzzy, your cunt is full with your alpha's cock, and all you want now is for Abby to cum deep inside you, claiming you.

“I'm yours, fuck-” You squeal when Abby thrusts especially deep.

Abby chuckles and starts thumbing your clit, eager to make you cum again.

“And I'm yours, pretty girl.” Abby sighs, getting hazy with her own devotion to you, the smell of love almost overpowering lust. “Cum.”

You close your thighs around Abby and cum again, not able to disobey her. It's a neat trick, having Abby use her voice on you, making you even more turned on. Abby moans softly as she tries to fuck you through your orgasm, but you spasm right on her head and she cums with a groan, bottoming out, painting your walls with her cum. You’re still pulsating around her, milking Abby’s cock and she pushes even deeper, until you choke on your moan and press on her shoulder to stop her, but you’re so deliciously tight Abby can’t help herself. She digs her nails into your inner thighs and pulls out just to see her cock covered in your and her cum, mixed together.

“So fucking pretty.” Abby growls and pushes back in, overstimulating herself. You feel her twitch inside you, and you sigh, also overstimulated.

You're shaking, but you still find some strengh to bring Abby closer, burying your nose in her neck, whining and panting into her ear while she sinks her teeth into your shoulder gently, not causing any pain.

“Jesus.” You pant as your head clears up.

“Are you okay?” Abby asks and you chuckle: there she is, your caring soft alpha.

“I’m fucking floating in space, Abby.”

“Good.”

You lie like this for a few minutes before Abby pulls out - you wince, sore, and Abby comforts you with kisses. She insists on helping you in the shower and brings you her softest clothes, and you tease her for being so whipped. Abby rolls her eyes and puts her hoodie on you. It hurts to sit just a bit, but you don’t mind and hiss at Abby when she tries to make it easier for you.

You’re hers, your body and soul, and you want the evidence of it to be constant.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #alpha!abby #it feels like a letter to my younger self for some reason

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 6 months

Text

What did you just say?

Aegon x Fem reader (y/n)

«The news of your marriage and pregnancy woke the dragon inside him.»

Sorry I just watched this gif and I couldn't avoid thinking about a moment like this. Also I want to utilize this short writing to let you know that I also like Game of thrones, House of the dragon, star wars, teen wolf, etc. so, occasionally I will start to post about those characters too.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Part 2 is finally here.

A soft knock on the door echoed in the room, Aegon was sitting, drinking his morning cup of wine.

- Come in.

- My king.

A servant appeared in the meeting room, Aegon was waiting for him anxiously. Since he became king he only wanted one thing. You.

Both were betrothed before Alicent decided to cancel it and marry Aegon with his sister, Helaena.

He really needed you at his side, he wanted you, his mother made a mistake, he always said that, it was unfair not only for him but for Helaena too, so, now he was king, he wanted a new wife, he wanted what a long time ago belonged to him.

Unfortunately, the poor servant's face was not the kind of face that brings good news.

- Speak now, where's she? Where's my betrothed?

- My king... I... The information I obtained, it's maybe just rumours, I do not intend to defile Lady (y/n)'s reputation or her virtue, But...

Before the servant could end, Alicent appeared at the door, the look in her eyes could say there was guilt and fear.

- Get out, I want to talk with my son.

The servant nodded and started to walk out when Aegon stopped him, he wouldn't let him go without knowing the news or rumors about his beloved.

- Stay, you haven't finished yet, What do you know about her?

- Aegon...

- Silence, you Continue.

- Lady y/n got married a few moons ago with the lord of the north, as I said these are maybe just rumors, but it's probably she's pregnant, a wolf is growing inside her, My king.

Aegon stood up and walked around the room, the servant hadn't moved, Alicent closed her eyes, she was standing there like a statue just waiting for Aegon's reaction. Suddenly, Aegon walked directly to the servant, his face was almost purple of Anger, his eyes could burn, certainly, the news of your marriage and pregnancy woke the dragon inside him.

His hot breaths with the smell of the wine he drank before, were now filling the servant's nose and lungs.

The goblet In his hand flew to the other side of the room, tension filled the room, silence was uncomfortable, then, Aegon simply asked.

- What did you just say?!

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 10 days

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Hii!!! Your blog is literally so perfect. Love it.

Could you recommend some more angsty fics where either Derek or Stiles is really insecure and has low self esteem? Happy ending only, if that’s alright. I really appreciate it!

Aw thanks anon! There's already an insecure!stiles tag so I focused on insecure!derek.

The (Tell-Tale) Heart Doesn’t Lie by novemberhush

(1/1 I 100 I General I Sterek)

After a little gentle teasing unexpectedly hits a nerve with Derek Stiles is quick to reassure him that he knows there’s more to the handsome werewolf than just being really, really, really ridiculously good-looking.

I Know the Pieces Fit by shealynn88

(1/1 I 2,700 I Teen)

“Stiles?”

It’s Derek’s voice, quiet in the dark with the low hum of the pack behind him.

Derek's the hardest one for Stiles to understand. Sometimes he thinks…but then it becomes clear, it’s not like that. Derek tolerates him. Appreciates his loyalty, at least. The way Stiles appreciates the brave hiss of a kitten. Cute. Admirable. But not equal.

And Dwell Beneath My Shadow by lielabell

(1/1 I 8,695 I Mature)

Derek is not stupid. He gets why Stiles puts up with him. It's clear every time Stiles looks at him, the spicy scent of lust and arousal Stiles's body can't help but put off. It doesn’t surprise him. Not at all. Derek knows what he looks like, knows that his face and his body are more than enough to compensate for his shitty personality. Stiles wants him more than he is annoyed by him. Nothing more, nothing less. It's not anything to be amazed over, nothing to write home about. Stiles isn't the first-- and most likely won't be the last-- hormone soaked teen who has panted over Derek.

Cliche by adult_disneyprincess (orphan_account)

(2/2 I 9,305 I Teen)

It’s cliché as shit, Stiles thinks. The nerd in love with the punk. He figures he wouldn’t want Derek Hale so much if he didn’t have those fucking tattoos everywhere, didn’t give a shit what people thought about him, and didn’t wear those stupid leather jackets. They’re not the same jacket either, Stiles has counted at least four different ones that the resident punk owns

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit

(1/1 I 18,010 I Teen)

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

Defying Convention by rororowyourboat

(13/13 I 24,331 I Teen)

Stiles is a newly certified fully-trained Spark, and he's on the market to chose a werewolf pack to act as Emissary for. The biggest problem? Almost every pack in North America wants him, and he's supposed to choose a pack at the 3-day conference. But how's he supposed to get to know any of the likely candidates when they're just being so damn polite and respectful?

Derek and his sisters are at the conference with bleak hopes: their pack was decimated by hunters years ago and their caustic attitudes have turned away most potential applicants.

Rarity by peanutbutter4lyfe

(8/8 I 29,837 I Explicit)

Derek let's the guys throw a party for Stiles' 18th at his loft and instantly regrets it. During the party Derek starts acting strangely, his senses going wild. He reads the signs and thinks Scott is his mate. It drives him crazy when Scott doesn't feel the same, until he figures it out... with a little help from Peter.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 58,399 I Teen)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist.

Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope.

He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles.

“I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

You're stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter

(15/15 I 234,195 I Not Rated)

Stiles survives his encounter with Gerard and his goons, but it isn't easy.

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

My summaries are rubbish but I hope you'll still give it a chance!

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #bamf!stiles #anon #fake/pretend relationship

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 1 month

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Call Me biles

Stiles Stilinski Masterlist Summary: Being Coach’s daughter isn’t that bad. Of course, you're in the lacrosse team, which makes him proud and happy. But falling for the worst player (after Greenberg), going out with him in secret, and lying to your dad… That's bad. But the worst is… Ever since you started dating him, you've been calling him Biles and no one told you you were wrong. Word Count: 2080 Pairing: Stiles x F!Reader A/n: I was feeling the absolute worse today so decided to write the absolute cutest story I could to cheer me up. Teen Wolf, it's been a while! Hope y'all enjoy! Sorry for any mistake! (I wrote this with 3 hours of sleep)

“Faster! My grandma could beat you with her eyes closed, and she’s dead! You suck Greenberg! That’s good sweetie, keep going!”

Obviously, Coach was after everyone. It was understandable, Beacon Hills hadn't won a game in forever, it was almost depressing to be on this team. Other schools made fun of you when they crushed you during games.

And Coach wasn’t only screaming at the student in his team, but at everyone in the class currently running on the field.

But obviously, when Coach spoke to you, he didn't treat you the same way as the others. His tone changed, a proud smile appeared on his face, and he began to encourage you instead of denigrating you.

Obviously. Since Coach was your dad.

You finished your lap, out of breath, and leaned over to put your hands on your knees. In the distance, you could hear your dad's voice return to its usual tone as other insults replaced the encouragement he only offered to you.

“Is that everyone?” You looked up to see the last person finally finishing their lap and collapsing in front of your dad, face red and covered in sweat. A small laugh escaped your vigilance with a smile that you quickly hid when you saw you had Coach's attention on you. “Pathetic,” he finished as he headed towards the school, announcing that class was over.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye, and, once certain that he was out of range, headed towards the poor wretch collapsed on the ground.

“Biles!” you laughed, helping him up. “You really need to improve your cardio, or we’ll get crushed at the next game!”

Once on his feet, you met his gaze and it was your turn to lose your breath as you inevitably lost yourself in the beauty of his amber eyes.

“You’re dad will crush me before,” he grimaced as he started walking towards the school alongside you. It was the first class of the day, and you knew the rest of the day would be long, especially with Lacrosse practice scheduled for the evening. “You’re lucky he’s not always on your back, you know?”

You shook your head, understanding what he meant. “He wants what’s best for me. I asked to join the team, he didn’t force me nor did he agreed I join because I was his daughter. He made me go through the tryouts like everyone else and I got no special treatments or favoritism. He just… Made a promise to my mom before she passed away, to never be the cause of my tears. He’s a great dad. Well, except when it comes to dating boys…”

Biles shook his head and sighed as he opened the door to let you enter the school first. “What about the other guys? Aren’t they mad about Coach’s daughter being on the team?”

At his question, a grimace of suffering stretched your face and you stopped walking. Biles mimicked your movement and turned to you, one eyebrow raised.

“Let’s say he made it veeeeerryyyy clear to the ones that complained. And the few ones that started rumors…” You shivered at the thought. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I don’t wanna know,” an expression of terror was now on his face. “Alright, I’ll hit the shower, see you at lunch,” Biles quickly scanned his surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and leaned down to place his lips on yours. They were soft and warm and even though it wasn't the first kiss you had shared, the butterflies still woke up in your stomach.

“See you later,” you watched him leave, a stupid smile plastered on your face.

Gosh, you loved that boy.

Later the same day, it was Lacrosse practice.

Even though you had spent time with Biles during the day, you were very excited to see him again to play the sport that bonded you two together at the beginning. And then, hiding from your father all day, always looking behind your shoulder to make sure no one was following you, spending dinner breaks in Biles' jeep to make sure no other teacher saw you together at the cafeteria…

It was grueling.

Sometimes, you wish you had the courage to just tell your dad. After all, even though he appeared rather withdrawn, he always supported you in your decisions and encouraged you to pursue your dreams. But a boy in your life?

You feared his reaction.

“Hey, Stiles!”

The unfamiliar name, albeit with a familiar connotation, caught your attention and you turned your head towards the source. Practice had already started, but as usual, your boyfriend was on the bench while you were on the field. The person who had just spoken was also on the team, number 11 and friend of Biles, who, true to form, arrived late.

Biles jumped to his feet as if he had springs in his shoes and rushed towards Scott to whisper something frantically. You raised an eyebrow, not really understanding the reason for the secrets exchanged between the two boys, and continued playing without worrying anymore about what was happening.

Stiles Pov

“Hey, Stiles!”

Nervousness coursed through his veins as if he had just received a violent electric shock. The current reached his feet, and immediately he was standing up and rushing towards Scott, his stress-fueled speed almost on par with the werewolves.

“Biles. My name is Biles. Call me Biles!” Stiles quickly whispered, his hands going all over the place as if he was trying to fly away.

Scott froze, his mouth half open, and his gaze left his friend and rested on the source of all this stress. The girl in question had stopped playing to look at them, but quickly returned to the game, shrugging one shoulder. “You know, you should tell her.”

“Are you crazy?!” Stiles' voice rose an octave, which caught Coach's attention. A quick wave of his hand to apologize, and Stiles continued the conversation in a low voice. “She’s Coach’s kid, and I love her so much, man, if she thinks my name is Biles, my name is Biles. Hell, I’m ready to change it on my birth certificate.”

Scott looked at his friend with wide eyes. “You love her that much?”

Stiles sighed, his head turning to look behind him where the girl of his dreams had just caught the ball and scored a point. Pleased with herself, her gaze immediately went to her dad who applauded her, then to him, Stiles - well, Biles, who looked at her with eyes full of affection. “You have no idea.”

“Stilinski! On the field! Greenberg, out of my sight!”

Hearing his name, Stiles was already standing, helmet on his head and lacrosse stick in his hands. Since he arrived, he was ready to play and radiated energy. Finally on the field, he ran towards the person he wanted to see the most and stopped next to her, smiling under his helmet.

“Hey there.”

“Hey,” she replied, her smile just as big.

A loud whistle startled them both, but it was the calling of their names that made them break out in a cold sweat. Sweats of horror. Sweats…

Of terror.

“Stilinski! Finstock! Stop flirting and go go go!!” Coach yelled in their direction.

Stiles shared a frightened look with his girlfriend, the fear of being found out strong in their veins. “Do you think he knows?”

“We were careful,” Y/n whispered as she ran to the other side of the field to start the practice match again. “But I can ask him after practice,” she offered, but seeing the fear in Stiles’ eyes, she felt compelled to specify “subtly, obviously.”

“Your dad scares me,” he added, getting into position.

“I know,” Y/n replied with a sigh. “I know.”

Your pov

The practice match was over. Although usually, playing Lacrosse managed to cure all of your daily life stresses and struggles, this time, even the sport that you knew and loved couldn’t stop the tornado of thoughts that invaded your mind.

Did your father find out about your relationship with Biles or not???

If so, you had to do everything to protect him, otherwise you were afraid for his life.

But first of all, you had to ask your father, subtly, if he had any doubts about the nature of your relationship with the number 24.

“Good job tonight Y/n! Dad’s proud of you!”

You had just returned to the stands when Coach walked to you, a friendly pat of encouragement on the back. Usually, you would have been really delighted -your father's compliments were as precious as a treasure lost for hundreds of years- but stress prevented all good feelings from existing. For the last hour, you've been reciting what you were going to say, how to ask him, how to bring up the subject without seeming suspicious, how-

“I was thinking, hotdogs for dinner. You down?” Your father asked, cutting off all your concentration and courage to ask him.

“Sure, uhm, dad, I uh… I wanted to-”

“Why don’t you invite your boyfriend too?”

You froze. Literally, your whole body turned to marble and you were stuck in the last position you had been in, mouth open, one hand outstretched towards him. Coach was putting away your equipment in your bag, completely unaware of what he just did by asking that simple question.

“Uh?”

“I think it’s time Stilinski acts like a man and steps up for his girl,” your father continued, glancing at you. Then, straightening up, he raised his voice and added: “STILINSKI! COME OVER HERE.”

Like a good soldier, Biles rushed towards Coach and you, leaving everything he was doing behind.

He was missing a shoe.

“Yes, Coach, I’m here, Stilinski, that’s me, reporting, present, right here.” With both hands on his hips, Biles looked at you, then at your father, then back at you, asking a thousand and one silent questions with his facial expressions.

“Hot dogs. You like em?”

“Yes, sir, love them, enjoy them, delicious, delicate food, truly amazing,” Biles nodded, sweat rolling down his forehead, definitely not from the practice match that had ended 15 minutes ago already.

“Alright. You are eating dinner with us tonight. I think it’s time you stop hiding, you two, gosh,” the coach rolled his eyes and threw his arms in the air, exasperated. For your part, you were still frozen. Your father started to walk away with your sport bag under his arm but suddenly he stopped to turn towards you. “And Stiles?”

“Yes, sir, yes, that’s me, yes?” Your boyfriend responded automatically, his body straightening to form a perfectly vertical straight line.

“You should stop parking in front of my car. I have eyes. Be there for 7!”

With these words, your father disappeared into the school parking lot, where he would wait for you to go back home. But for now...

“Holy shit I’m dead, right?”

“Wait, your name is STILES? Not Biles???” You exclaimed, turning towards him.

“Is that really what you remember from the conversation?!”

“You’re not denying it!!”

“I’m gonna die tonight!”

“You’re gonna be fine, Stiles!” You couldn't believe it. Not only your dad knew about your relationship, but you had completely shamed yourself by not even knowing your boyfriend's real name. “I’ve been calling you the wrong name all this time…”

You hid your face in your hands.

“Hey hey…” Warmth settles on your hands, and slowly, Stiles freed your face and gently lift your chin to look into your eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I kind of… liked it, you calling me Biles. It was our thing…” Stiles smiled, and damn, that smile was magical. You just couldn’t feel bad having someone so perfect near you.

“I feel stupid,” you furrowed your brows, your expression pouty.

“If it can make you feel better,” Stiles continued, putting an arm around your shoulders to start walking towards the parking lot with you. “I’ll be dead after tonight, probably,” he added with a laugh. “And also, my real name is not Stiles.”

You stopped walking to look at him. “Really.”

“Yeah. But I’ll only tell you if I survive tonight’s dinner.”

“Alright,” you laughed as you continued walking with him, obvious relief being felt in your heart. It was so nice not to have to hide. “I think I can help with that, Biles. But…” You glanced down.

“Hm?”

“You’re missing a shoe.”

“Oh, I know.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski x f!reader #teen wolf stiles fanfiction #teen wolf stiles x reader fanfiction #teen wolf stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf stiles x f!reader #teen wolf imagine

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