#teen wolf x you

[murdrdocs]

eye ... just had a thought but abt stiles (cw unprotected piv + creampies)

stiles fucking you, hips pushing into yours with a certain desperation you only get to see in small doses. tonight, he's let completely go, doe eyes bigger and more watery than usual, his tongue looser than it's ever been before as he babbles praises, his grip tight and unyielding against your skin. it's cute, adorable even, to watch him drive himself insane as you purposefully squeeze around him, your nails dragging along his scalp, pushing the sweat-matted hair off of his forehead affectionately.

you know that the cause of his demise is technically your fault, as you were the one begging to forgo the use of a condom for the night. you needed stiles, you really did, but he'd made you cum twice, and a third was brewing, and at this point you were more entranced with the way he managed to hold off throughout your own orgasms. you were transfixed with his appearance, eagerly awaiting for his warning.

the words follow quicker than you'd expected, a pathetic whimper of, "i'm close," slipping past his swollen lips. you know he's telling you to unlink your ankles from his back. he's asking you to let him pull away from you, to prevent a potential accident that would cause more trouble than it's worth.

but you couldn't care less right now, reckless behavior be damned. your link at his back tightens, you pull him closer into you, your nails dig into his scalp as a warning when his eyes widen, almost comically.

"sweetheart, ah, lemme, i gotta–" you shake your head, pulling stiles down for a kiss. he hesitates, but he could never resist your lips, his own puckering to meet yours in a messy, sloppy kiss that is more clashing of teeth and tongue and swapping of saliva than anything else.

your lips separate from his with enough room to speak, enough room for his attentive ears—used to seeking out your moans and whimpers and whines—to hear you.

"come in me, stiles. please, i need it."

stiles would never deprive you of something you wanted, much less something you needed. so he nods, obedient in nature, and then his thrusts get sloppy and he stills with one hard thrust, warm spurts of cum painting your walls. you gasp, unused to the feeling, back arching as stiles' thumb circles your clit. your own orgasm (the third of the night) sinks into you, sliding down throughout your body as stiles is still twitching from his.

he doesn't pull out, not yet, instead burying his head in the crook of your neck, letting you comb through his hair as the both of you attempt to regain your breath. stiles miraculously recovers first, lips appreciatively kissing over your sweaty skin, hand rubbing along your side until it stops.

he stills once more, lifting himself up to look you in the eye. "you took your pill this morning, right?" you nod, still a little hazy from the feeling of stiles' cum leaking out around his cock still sheathed inside of you. "and uh ... how much is plan b again?"

you shrug. "around 50 i think?"

a beat. "shit."

[angelltheninth]

How about Derek Hale seeing his gf wearing his shirt for the first time?

"So you're the clothes stealer hm?" Derek smiled against your shoulder as he pulled you into his lap. He was still in bed when he noticed his shirt missing, granted it was hard to locate any clothes in the mess his room was because of last nights activities but his nose didn't lie.

"Guilty." You cupped his cheeks as you took your seat on his lap, your bare thighs pressing against his. He was still naked. Oh. "You didn't get dressed at all?"

Derek smirked and pulled the shirt down, his mouth hot against the skin of your shoulder, "I would, but someone stole my favorite shirt. You have your own."

"Oh now you want me in my clothes?" You teased as you pointed out the scratch marks on your legs that the shirt barely covered, "I need to cover these up Derek. I'm not going out in shorts."

"But you were happy to ask for them. And you seem happy to let people know we're together. Everyone saw that kiss yesterday, and they're sure as hell gonna smell me on you even if you don't walk out wearing my shirt." Part of him wanted to see you wearing his clothes, "How about you wear it only for me?" But the other possessive wolf part of him wanted you for himself.

[theemporium]

hey bestie, smut prompt 22 for stiles? 🙂

22. “can you feel what your doing to me”

.

It was an incredibly stupid plan—but then again, when wasn’t it when it came to the pack of Beacon Hills?

You couldn’t exactly remember what had led you into this situation, or how you and Stiles got the short-end of the stick to be volunteered into it. But what you did remember was Derek rambling about hunters having a sixth sense for supernatural beings in close vicinity so—as the only two humans in the pack—you and Stiles were thrown in the deep end. 

And now the deep end meant hiding in a really small closet whilst some of the deadliest hunters stood in the room just before you. 

“Can you stop moving? They will hear you rustling.” 

“I can’t!” 

“Oh my god.” 

You were pressed against the door, using a small crack to watch the hunters in the room. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but the tables of weapons spread out in front of them was intimidating enough. 

“I’m serious, stop wiggling,” Stiles hissed from behind you, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Stiles, I can’t,” you hissed back at him. “If you move the hanger that is poking me, maybe I’ll fucking stop.” 

There was a pause before the boy spoke. 

“That’s not a hanger.” 

Your body tensed for a few moments as the boy’s words ran through your head, taking you a few moments to really process his words before you felt your cheeks heating up. 

“Stiles—” 

“I can’t control it,” he grumbled from behind you, letting out a small groan when you tried to move away again, only to push your ass further against him. “Fuck, don’t do that. Can you feel what you're doing to me?” 

“I’m trying to help!” you whisper-yelled under your breath.

“That’s the opposite of helping,” Stiles groaned into your ear, biting down on his lip. His hands found your waist, gripping it tightly in hopes of making you stay still. “Just…stop.”

Your heart was thundering in your chest, your lungs feeling like they were on fire and the last thing you should be focusing on was Stiles’ dick pressing into your ass when your lives were quite literally in danger. 

And yet, it was your only focus. 

Maybe you could blame it on the adrenaline pumping through your body at the risk of getting caught. Maybe you could blame it on a temporary lapse of judgement. Maybe you could even blame it on the crush you had been harbouring for the boy for ages.

Or maybe, you wouldn’t really need a reason as you pushed your ass back into him, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Shit,” Stiles hissed through clenched teeth and gripped your waist harder. “What are you doing?” 

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help,” you murmured as your arms wound behind your, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaned against your shoulder. “Just keep quiet, Stiles.” 

“Fuck,” he moaned against your shoulder as he began to grind his hip against your ass, something about the action so needy and desperate, and yet it set your whole body on fire. 

Your hands dropped to cover his, slowly guiding them up until they were cupping your tits over your shirts, a pathetic whine leaving the boy’s lips as he continued to rut against your ass. It didn’t take long for muffled curses to leave his lips as he finally came. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathlessly chanted as you continued to circle your ass against him, even when he let out a small whine. “I-I can’t, it’s too much.” 

“Such a good boy, Stiles,” you whispered in the closet knowing you still had to find a way out before your luck ran out. “Such a good boy for me.” 

“Just for you,” he whispered, face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he squeezed your tits, listening to the soft mewls you let out as you both desperately tried to keep your cover from being blown.

.

[soulofapatrick]

Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader 

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to. 

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin. 

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming. 

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him? 

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates. 

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him. 

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. 

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me. 

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us? 

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen. 

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present. 

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued. 

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring. 

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory. 

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement. 

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me. 

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. 

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him. 

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown. 

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard. 

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us. 

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer. 

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable. 

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together. 

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. 

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden. 

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away. 

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged. 

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending. 

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory. 

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream. 

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing. 

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires. 

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection. 

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions. 

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words. 

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads. 

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me. 

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge. 

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him. 

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs. 

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head. 

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes. 

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips. 

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[asterias-record-shop]

Okay, but Stiles finally spoiling you with a date night after weeks of working himself to the bone on his current FBI case 😭❤️👏🏻 Maybe he gets a call in the middle of the date with someone trying to interrupt (unintentionally), but tonight is all about you?

no because this is so cute!! probably going to make a pt 2 :) also, Dylan O’Brien as Thomas?? omfg

—𓆩[honey, honey]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - FBI Agent! Stiles Stilinski x Fem! Fiancée! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.3K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - It’s been a long fucking week, and Stiles has finally caught a break to spend time with you… until he gets a call right in the middle about the case he’s working on, but tonight is about you and nothing is going to change that.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - totally made you a spoiled princess in this, Stiles loves you too much to say no || FBI office based off of the BAU from Criminal Minds and like a little crossover || cursing I think? ||

“How’s the case coming along, Stilinski?” Agent Morrison asks, a sigh coming from Stiles’ mouth as he stares down at the stack of files on his desk.

He grins up at the man. “Absolutely delightful, Agent Morrison.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughs, looking down at his watch. “Gonna tell the missus you’re going to be home late?”

Stiles looks at the wedding band he didn’t stop playing with, sighing. “No, I’m going to go home early, actually. It’s date night.”

Agent Morrison laughs. “Date night! Date nights are good, don’t stop having those,” he looks down at his ring, sighing. “Makes the spark dim.”

Stiles sits there awkwardly for a minute. “Not too late to start them up again?”

Agent Morrison nods slightly. “You’re right. Well, your new partner is supposed to be coming in any minute, he was supposed to be here-”

“I’m here! I’m here!” A voice yells, quickly running in as they panted. “I’m here, I missed the bus.”

Stiles stares for a minute, jaw slack. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes I’m fine!” He walked forward. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I work with the BAU at Quantico, I’m here for Mieczyslaw-”

“Stiles,” the said man stands quickly, shaking his head. “Everyone calls me Stiles.”

Reid paused. “Stiles… Stiles Stilinski?”

“That’s what I said,” Agent Morrison stands, sighing. “Well, you both have fun. If you need anything, don’t call me.”

“We will call you as soon as we have a problem, Morrison!” Stiles yells as Morrison goes up the stairs.

“Don’t do that!”

“I’m positive I will, Morrison!”

“You do that, I’ll kill you!”

“Calling you right now sir!” Stiles smiles when he hears the door slam shut, another man stepping into the office. “That your bodyguard?”

Reid looks back and he shakes his head. “Oh no, that’s Morgan! Derek Morgan.”

Stiles hums, waiting for the other man to come to his substitute desk while he waits for everyone to clean his office.

The taller man walks over, a bright smile on his face. “You must be M-”

“Stiles!” Morrison yells out, opening his door. “Your offices are clean and Y/N is here!”

His brows furrow, it wasn’t that late was it? He opened the drawer with his phone, it was only 2:30 and he wasn’t supposed to get off until at least 5:00. “Uhm, I’m sorry, give me one second.”

When his phone rings again, he quickly answers it. “Hey honey-”

“I brought you lunch.”

He looks up, smiling when he sees you holding up a bag of food making him hang up, quickly excusing himself from his new partners. He jogs over to you, smiles wide as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your head. “Hey.”

You giggled, handing him the bag. “Hey. Made some of your favorite, just thought I’d bring it by.”

He nods, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in for a soft kiss. “You’re fucking amazing, honey.”

“I know,” you laughed as you pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you later?”

He basically pouts. “You can’t stay a bit longer?”

You shake your head, softly brushing your hand against his cheek. “Last time I stayed we fucked in your office.”

He grins mischievously. “Well my office is almost clean-”

“Behave, Stiles!” Two voices say, both yours and Morrison’s whose door was now open.

“Yeah, okay!” He yelled back, looking down at you. “He won’t know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I still have to get back home and finish making our food for tonight.”

He really does pout this time. “You’re no fun.”

You hum. “I’ll remember that, Stilinski.” He groans dramatically before you press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you. See you later.”

He nods, smiling. “I love you too.”

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to get off, giving his number to his new partners before making his way home where you already made dinner, and for fucks sake it was delicious.

You both settled on the couch, a movie you both really weren’t paying attention to as you sat on Stiles’ lap, his hands on your hips as you leaned back into him.

He laughs as he holds your chin, pulling you back just enough for a soft kiss. “You know, I was thinking-”

“Oh well that doesn’t sound good,” you teased, making him roll his eyes playfully. “What about?”

He shrugs, leaning into the crook of your neck. “Just… you know, I get my bonus soon.”

“Right,” you say, looking back just enough to look at his eyes. “What’s up?”

“We should take a trip, or something,” he says, shrugging. “I have some paid time off, you work for yourself… what do you think?”

You smiled widely, nodding. “I think that sounds fucking amazing.”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips again. “Perfect. And how’s our wedding coming along?”

Stiles left you in charge of pretty much everything, all he was doing was paying for it.

“Oh, good! I’m going dress shopping soon,” you say with a wide smile. “I’m super excited. Have a feeling this one will be great.”

You both had been engaged for a while, but you both wanted everything to be perfect before actually tying the knot, and Stiles wasn’t going to let you walk down the aisle in a dress you didn’t love.

He smiled, his hands sneaking around your waist as he kissed the back of your neck. “I know it will be, love. You liked that dress we saw in Mexico, right? You want to go dress shopping there?”

You gasp, quickly turning around in his lap. “You’d do that?”

He laughs. “Well, of course I will. But we need to bring an extra suitcase to make sure it fits.”

You pull him in for a firm kiss, humming. “You’re fucking amazing.”

He smiles before his phone starts to ring, pulling you closer before you finally pull away. “What if it’s important?”

He shook his head, pulling you back down. “Nothings more important than you.”

He pulled you back down for another kiss, your hands pushing into the back of his shirt before his phone continued to ring. You pulled away, sighing as you grabbed his phone and handed it to him. “Don't worry, I’ll be okay for the five minutes it takes you to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “What if I’m not?”

You answer the phone, making him straighten. “This is Stilinski.”

“Hi Agent Stilinski, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we met today, I’m your new partner along with Derek Morgan, but he isn’t here right now…” Reid continues to mutter, making Stiles raise a brow.

“Dr. Reid, is there a… point to this call?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry, I was wondering if you were busy right now? I found something big.”

He looks at you, your slightly sad smile as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “We can finish the movie later.”

“Y/N, honey-” he sighs as you go into the kitchen, rubbing the center of his forehead. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, do you mind if we talk about it tomorrow? I’m with my fiancée right now.”

Reid exclaims. “Oh, right! Sorry, talk to you tomorrow bye!” Reid hangs up quickly, Stiles smiling as he goes into the kitchen.

He comes behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and kissing against your temple. “Moved plans to tomorrow. We got all night, honey.”

You giggled, turning around. “I already looked at tickets to Mexico. What week are we thinking?”

“Any week you want, darling. This week is all about you.”

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

© asterias-record-shop

[heartbreakgrill]

out of the woods: theo raeken.

1989 (Heartbreak Grill’s Version)

looking at it now it all seems to simple. we were lying on your couch. i remember.

“i have to go.”

theo groaned as the words left my lips. his arms, wrapped securely around my waist, tightened their grip as he inhaled a hopeless breath.

“no,” he nudged my neck with his nose, eliciting a soft giggle from me. “no, stay, please.”

“theo,” i wriggled away from his ticklish touches, “i have to go.”

i tried to remove myself from his grasps, but he was strong. his large, warm hands, slid over my bare stomach, gripping onto my hips. he pressed my back into the mattress, as my wrestling arms came to rest on his shoulders. he had been growing out his hair and now it hung low enough to ghost over my collarbones. i shivered as the strands drug across my skin, theo’s lips attached to my neck.

“theo,” i persisted, “scott gets off at 8. he’s going to come into my room and check if i’m there. when i’m not, he’s going to notify every single supernatural within a thirty mile radius, and every policeman within the county. they will be on your doorstep by 8:15, and i will be dead.”

as i spoke, i continued to try to fight theo’s strong hold, lifting my body from the mattress, and pushing back at his shoulders. my words seemed like a good enough threat to get him moving.

“i don’t want you to go,” he moved to the edge of the bed, feet flat upon the floor.

i stood and gathered my clothes, occasionally tossing him pointed glances, “as much as i enjoy this- i would prefer to not die tonight. i have a chemistry exam tomorrow. here-“

theo rolled his eyes as i tossed his boxers to him. it landed on top of his head. i stifled a laugh and tugged on my jeans.

theo ripped the boxers off and mocked my laughter, “haha, very funny.”

i shrugged and stuck my head through my t-shirt. “listen,” i made my way towards the front door of theo’s tiny, studio apartment. it wasn’t much, but it beat sleeping in his truck every night, like he had been doing. i laced up my shoes, “i should be able to see you tomorrow night. i’ll text you, though, let you know what’s happening.”

theo noticed i was reaching for the door handle and quickly shimmied into his boxers. he slapped a hand against the door, “wait!”

it slammed shut. i looked up at him, an expectant expression on my face. “yeah?”

theo caught my chin in his hands, and planted a sweet kiss on my lips. i melted into the moment, leaning my weight into his hold, allowing my fingers to gently ghost his chest. however, as soon as theo moved to deepen the exchange, my phone started ringing.

my eyes flew open, a wide, worried look taking over my dazed face. i held out a finger towards theo, as if to shush him, as i answered the call.

“hello? oh, hi, scott,” i shot theo a glance. he crossed his arms, figure shrunk in a guilty demeanor. “no, yeah- i’m on my way home now. oh, chinese sounds good. yep- no, yeah. just gotta shower first. just- with gina. yep. studying. chem exam tomorrow! yep. yeah. k. love you! bye.”

i stared at my phone for a second, as though scott were going to climb out of it and kill theo for even being in the same room as me. when that didn’t happen, i let out a deep breath.

“okay,” i looked to the boy, “i have got to get going. i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“yeah,” theo couldn’t help but grin down at me, “tomorrow.”

i noticed his body tilt towards mine, his chest lean towards me, and i held up a finger, cocked a brow. “don’t even think about it or i will never get out of here.”

i could hear him groaning as i shut the door behind me.

–

you took a polaroid of us, then discovered the rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color.

“what are you doing for your birthday?”

i balanced the popcorn bowl on my lap as i twisted around on the couch. theo glanced over at me from the fridge, flashing that bright, wide grin.

i couldn’t help but smile, though nothing special really was happening. “not sure yet. why do you ask?”

“just wondering.”

i stared at the back of his stooped, trying to read between the lines of his very few words. theo could feel my gaze, could hear my curious heartbeat, and looked up against. “what?”

i slowly brought a piece of popcorn to my lips, brows furrowed, “why are you asking?”

“nothing,” he reached into the fridge and grabbed a can of coke. the door shut softly behind him. he neared the couch and cracked open the drink. i continued to stare him. “why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“because i know it’s not nothing,” i set the bowl down on the coffee table and came up onto my knees. theo tilted his head and peered down at me. “you’ve got stuff on your mind. say it. let it out into the open. this is a judgement free zone.”

he chuckled softly as i gestured to the tiny apartment. “not exactly a zone as is.”

i reached up and smacked his forearm. “just tell me! please?”

theo took another sip of his coke, thinking intensely. “there’s really not much to say. i was just thinking how your birthday is coming up and i wanted to maybe do something special for you.”

“wait, really?” i perked up, elbows pressed into the back of the couch and chin planted upon my palms. “aw, wait really?”

theo rolled his eyes, “yes, really. but, i know you guys probably have stuff planned. so, i was just trying to get a feel for when we could fit something in.”

“no one’s said anything to me about any plans. though,” my mind wandered a bit, and the stupid hope theo’s healing heart always gave me filled my lungs, “if they do figure something out, i don’t see why you couldn’t just come to that..?”

theo’s soft face hardened slightly, a gut wrenching frown painting his pink lips. “yeah…i don’t know about that. liam still wants me dead. scott and stiles hate me- not to mention malia and lydia probably would be happy to kick me in the balls.”

i thought over the words, imagining each scenario play out. he was right. “yeah…” i trailed off, “yeah, i don’t think that would happen. i just-“

i struggled to find my words, gaze distant, hope shattered. “i don’t know-“

“i know,” theo touched my cheek, fingers cold from the can of coke now in his other hand. “i know.”

“i’m tired of hiding, theo,” my voice came out quiet and timid, expressive to how i was truly feeling. it was exhausting, constantly sneaking around, always being on the lookout for scott.

“i know, baby,” he squatted down to my level, holding my face with both hands, now. his thumbs brushed over the apples of my cheeks, eyes catching my distant ones. “listen…i know it’s hard, but…they just don’t understand it, okay? they wouldn’t get it. you- you put your faith in me when i didn’t deserve it. if it wasn’t for you, if it wasn’t for your hope, i don’t think i would be the man i am today. you saw a lost, broken boy and you helped me get back on my feet. you helped me make up for every wrong i’ve done. i…”

he didn’t continue any sentence. he just pressed his lips together. my heart fluttered at the anticipation of what it could’ve been he wanted to say.

“i just wish…” i gathered some thoughts, “i wish they’d give you a chance.”

“one day,” theo kissed me shortly, “i think…one day, it’ll happen.”

we curled up on the tiny couch, fit for his small apartment, and watched a movie. i lay in the crevice of his side, clutching to his body like it would be taken from me. often, i worried that that would happen. scott would catch us, committing no crimes, and juror theo to a fate worse than death. it seemed so silly- scott was the sworn protector of this town. he always ensured everyone’s happiness, health, prosperity. yet, when it came to me, those guarantees fell short. he’d rather i be holed up in my room, or holed up at school, my nose in a book, than i live, than i date or work or go out with friends.

it made everything so complicated. it made my life complicated- i had rules to follow, i had curfews, i had to answer the phone every time he called or the entire world would fall apart. i understood my brother just wanted me to be safe, to stay alive- but he was ruining my life while trying to save it.

i looked up towards theo, worry swimming through my eyes. he turned his head at my own shuffling and smiled, though it faded at the sight of my worried face.

“hey, hey,” he shifted his body towards mine, “baby…it’s okay. hey…everything’s gonna be okay, yeah? i won’t let anything ruin this, okay?”

“i’m just worried he’s gonna take you away from me…”

“i know,” theo brushed the hair from my face, “i know, but i won’t let him. i…”

that unfinished thought again.

i set my hands upon theo’s shoulder, worry being coaxed down by the affection i felt for him. “i love you,” i admitted.

theo’s face softened, the gold flecks in his eyes on fire from my confession. he pulled my face closer towards his, rushing out a response before crashing our lips together.

“i love you.”

–

and i remember thinking: are we out of the woods yet? are we in the clear yet good?

“i saw theo today.”

i looked up from my plate, eyes widened in curiosity. i flicked my gaze between lydia, scott, stiles, malia, and liam. everyone paused from eating their food. they focused on lydia’s words.

scott straightened his stooped neck. his thick brows were furrowed with inquiry, “really? where?”

“the store,” lydia spoke pointedly. “he was buying a dozen roses from the supermarket.”

“well, at least we know he’s a cheap date,” stiles was quick to nip.

i felt my face grow warm, both from worry and frustration. i shoveled some noodles into my mouth.

malia poked at her straw, “what’s he doing here? i thought he left?”

“i think we all did,” scott sighed. he wiped a napkin across his face. “did he have any other groceries?”

lydia rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, as if to recite the items she saw in his cart. “eggs, milk, icing, chicken nuggets, a loaf of bread, and, i think, penne noodles. could’ve been elbow macaroni, though. couldn’t really tell.”

a smile creeped onto my face as i pieced together the groceries. i was supposed to see theo tonight, though i’d told mom and scott i was going to gina’s for a sleepover. i guess i had a birthday cake and flowers to look forward to.

everyone thought for a moment. then, stiles cracked another lame joke, “hey, maybe he’s going to make up for nearly killing y/n by baking her a cake!”

i choked on my water. scott reached a concerned hand over to pat my back. i pressed a napkin to my face and coughed erratically. “you okay?” scott brushed hair form my cheek.

i nodded wildly, “yep- yeah. yep! great. good. sorry.”

scott patted my back again before returning to the conversation. “for his sake, i hope he isn’t planning on doing that. i hope he isn’t planning on contacting any of us. if he does, you all need to tell me- immediately, okay? stiles, let your dad know he’s lingering around. y/n-“

i sniffled from my coughing fit. “yeah?”

scott’s face was lined with a deepened worry, brown eyes swimming with concern for me. “i don’t think i want you going to gina’s tonight. or anywhere but school for the time being. not until we know what theo’s doing here.”

my brows furrowed tightly, “what? no! what- why- how is that fair? no- scott. i can’t-“

“mom will agree,” scott cut me off. “i’m not risking anything.”

“but…” i went to continue to argue my case, but scott continued rattling off instructional orders to the rest of the group.

and, so, my birthday dinner turned into driving to the sheriff’s station with the entire pack. sitting in stilinki’s office until we figured out where theo was living. we drove to the street and patrolled his apartment until 1am. then, stiles dropped scott and i off at home.

nobody even sang me happy birthday.

looking at it now, last december, we were built to fall apart. then fall back together.

“it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“theo,” i grinned as i took a box from him. a big red bow adorned the glittery wrapping paper. it wasn’t heavy, and the size of the box was quite small. but my heart lit on fire from the lovely gesture. “you really shouldn’t have.”

“no, i wanted to,” he waved me off. “you deserve…so much. the world.”

i met his eyes and recognized that familiar, glistening adoration i’d gotten so used to. “i just…feel bad. you don’t have much money, and-“

“it doesn’t matter,” theo pressed a hand to my knee.

we were criss-cross on the couch, sparse christmas decorations scattered through his tiny apartment. i’d insisted on lining tinsel across the door, lights around the tv console, putting the fake tree in the already crowded corner. i hadn’t been able to come over much and wanted theo to be able to feel some semblance of joyous occasion when i wasn’t there. this was the first time we’d seen each other since thanksgiving.

i only managed to escape the house because i convinced scott that gina and i had to spend christmas together.

“open it!” theo squeezed my knee again.

i giggled at his excited stature and quickly unraveled the bow. inside, amidst the folds of a velvet box, was a necklace with the letter t hanging off of a gold chain. i grinned at the sight, “oh, my gosh! here- put it on me!”

i held my hair from my shoulders as theo clipped the necklace at the nape of my spine. his cold fingers ghosted across my skin until his palms were around my shoulders. he tugged my back into his chest, laying us down upon the couch.

your necklace hanging from my neck, the night we couldn't quite forget when we decided to move the furniture so we could dance.

silence enveloped our presence, a comforting feeling of peace that we rarely had. “i love you, theo,” i let myself whisper. i tried to say it more often than not, worried that one day i wouldn’t be able to remind him of it.

“we should tell scott.”

i pulled myself up, out of theo’s hold, turning to face him on the couch. i was bewildered. my face surely showed it, “what?”

theo ran a hand through his hair, “i think we should tell scott, y/n.”

i shook my head slightly, “no, no. no- we can’t do that. theo- no.”

his tone became increasingly critical, disagreeing with my own disapproval. “why not? im tired of hiding-“

“he’ll kill you, theo,” i rushed out. my breathing was anticipatory in it’s quick speed. “scott will kill you, theo.”

“i don’t know. he’s…merciful. i think if we tell him, we can-“

“theo, no!” i jumped from the couch. “please, just stop. i don’t want to fight about this with you. it’s not happening. end of stor-“

“why does that get to just be your decision? why don’t i get to have a say in this relationship? it’s all up to you!” theo followed me from our seats. he spoke wildly, his hands moving with his words.

i crossed my arms, “i risk everything every single day that i text you. i put myself on the line just to see you. i’m lying to my brother, my best friend- my mom! theo- i thought you understood-“

“i’m just tired of being your little secret. i want to be able to- to see you. i want to come to your birthday dinners and spend christmas morning with you. i want to be in your life. i feel like i’m just on the sidelines!”

“maybe you shouldn’t have tried to kill all of us!”

the words blurted from my lips before i could stop them. the stale silence that followed my heartless thoughts was bitter and cold. theo turned his shoulder from me, dropping his head into his hands.

“oh, my god,” i stepped forward, bracing my hands for impact. “i’m so sorry. theo- i-“

“i thought you’d forgiven me,” he murmured into his palm. “you told me you forgave me for that.”

“i did- i did, i just- i’m sorry! i don’t know why i said tha-“

“maybe scott’s right,” theo met my eyes finally, tears blurring his green ones.

“what-?”

“maybe i never will change. maybe i’m just a bad guy. maybe it’s not a good idea for you to be around me.”

“no, theo, no-“ he kept interrupting me.

“you should leave.”

i couldn’t find the words to stay, but i needed to.

i stepped forward, again, touching theo’s shoulder. he whipped his head back to face me, beautiful eyes darkened by the yellow hue, fangs protruding from his teeth, claws digging into his palms that were beginning to bleed.

“get out!” he roared.

i flinched, throwing myself back a few feet. my hands were shaking. i quickly gathered my things, never turning my back from the monstrous boy standing before me. his chest heaved with anger. he glared.

for the first time in a long time, i was scared of theo.

so, i ran.

baby, like we stood a chance; two paper airplanes flying. and i remember thinking…

“are you awake?”

scott knocked upon my bedroom door.

i rolled over in my bed, away from the sound of his voice, away from his incessant worry.

i knew he could hear my heartbeat. i knew he could smell my pheromones.

i ignored him. he had his answers. i wanted to be left alone.

scott sighed. “please talk to me.”

i didn’t want to.

“well,” he tried to sound cheery, but it failed, “i’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

weeks had passed.

silence had followed.

scott was always wondering why i didn’t go to study group with gina. mom worried why i didn’t want to eat my favorite dinner on thursday nights. stiles was confused when i would voluntarily tag along on patrols with him and scott. when we’d pass theo’s house, i’d press my headphones into my ears and drown the two teenage boys out.

lydia drug me to the mall the following week. scott had told everyone he was worried i was depressed. but he didn’t know why.

i knew why.

i didn’t text theo. and he didn’t try to reach me.

i let the necklace pool in my makeup drawer. my fingers ghosted over it every morning, and i’d flinch as though it burned me. it just made me brain flicker with unwanted memories.

i had nightmares about him.

he’d come into my room and tear me apart.

he’d kill scott right in front of me.

he’d rip my mom’s throat out during dinner.

i dreamed of him, too.

of his arms, the contradictory peace i felt from his fingers. i knew, deep down inside, that his threatening demeanor wasn’t real. it was a projection of his innermost insecurities, his frustration because he could only ever have parts of me.

but i was still terrified. it took me back to a time in my life when theo really was the villain. back to the night when the dread doctors nearly killed me. it reminded me of things i’d worked hard to get over.

it felt like last year, only this time, my heart was broken, too.

i don’t know why i thought it would work. bad people never changed. they’d maybe give you a hurricane eye, false hope that things would be clearing up, the storm would pass. and, then, their true, dark colors would appear like the rain. thundering down on you.

i thought back to months ago, when i first let him in. i’d run into him at the grocery store, like lydia. he was buying tuna fish and a potted plant. he had a certain soil type in his cart. i didn’t recognize him at first, mostly because i’d blocked his face from my memory, and his hair had grown out. he was hiding beneath his hoodie, too.

are we out of the woods yet? are we in the clear yet? good.

“that soils gonna kill that plant.”

i peered over at the stranger’s cart, my own basket swinging from my arm.

“oh!” he looked up from the cereal box in his hands, surprised by my voice.

his brows furrowed, friendly smile faltering slightly. “oh. uh…” he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

i chuckled shortly, “sorry to startle you? i just…don’t want to watch this poor guy be carted off to his death.”

theo looked at the plant as i pointed to it. he set the cereal down in his car, shook his head once, and met my eyes again, “oh. that’s okay. um…would you mind telling me what soil i need?”

“yeah, of course. cmon.”

i marched us off to the plant aisle. as we walked across the entire supermarket, i told him all about my plant collection at home. i shared personal details of my life, remarked as he brought up his own stories.

then, i found the small bag easily, and dumped it into his cart, shoveling the other one back onto the shelf.

he thanked me with this sweet grin. “wow, uh, thank you, so much. any other tips?”

his smile twisted into a smirk, something friendly, nothing too extreme. but, it’s what clicked my memories together. i recognized him then.

i frowned and took a slow step back, “um. sorry…”

i quickly turned on my heel and raced away from the aisle. theo was hot on my heels. he chased me with his cart, stumbling over apologies that i was sure didn’t mean anything. “wait- no! y/n! i’m sorry! please! please let me-! i’m so sorry!”

i tried to pull my phone from my pocket to call scott, but it clattered to the floor. i skidded to a stop, dropping to my knees to grab it. the basket in my arm tipped and everything sprawled across the floor.

i reached for my phone and cursed at the mess. his hand came down over mine. he shot his grip back, apologizing. “i didn’t mea-“

“leave me alone.”

i don’t know how he convinced me to go to dinner with him.

remember when you hit the brakes too soon? 20 stitches in the hospital room. when you started crying, baby, i did, too. but, when the sun came up i was looking at you.

“i think we should talk.”

i glanced over at lydia, thumbs pressing into my thighs anxiously. i sucked in a breath, cold air drowning in my lungs. the wipers rubbed over the window wildly, rain pouring down outside. the radio played softly.

i watched a raindrop race down the window, then glanced over at lydia. “about what?”

she met my eye for a second. she looked like she knew something i didn’t want her to. i gulped.

“you know i…” she trailed off. she licked her teeth in an attempt to find her words, carefully. “i can see things, y/n.”

i sucked in another breath. i couldn’t get enough. i should’ve known this would happen. lydia didn’t just get premonitions of death. if she was connected to somebody enough, like me, she could see flashes of secrets.

“yeah…” i whispered.

“i don’t…” lydia struggled to speak, “i don’t know what to say, necessarily. i only know bits and pieces. like…christmas. he- he wanted to hurt you. but, then- at the grocery store. he was gonna bake you a cake. wha- please tell me what happened, y/n.”

i explained the situation with a shaky voice, fingers rubbing one another in a ruminating anxiety. lydia just listened intently. i was worried she was going to turn the car around, drive us back home to tell scott. i’d get holed up in my room while the pack went on a man and wolf hunt.

but, when i was finished, lydia just stared off at the road.

“well?” i pressed.

she glanced at me, again, “wow. i don’t…i don’t know what to say. i just…i’ve loved some bad people, y/n. one of them- died. the other moved to london, but…but they did change. i changed them, i’d like to think. they became good people. but, i think that’s because they were good people, in their core. they were just scared…i know you probably know theo better than i do, but…i don’t know. he killed his sister. if he were a real wolf, his eyes would be blue, y/n. he came to this town to kill your brother. to take our pack. and he nearly killed you. so many of our classmates’ lives ended because of theo. i just- he’s…”

as she spoke, images flashed through my mind.

two months ago, theo and i had drove three hours outside of town to go to the movie theater. as we walked inside, we saw a little girl sitting upon the curb. she was leaned over, sobbing into her hands. i didn’t know what to do. i was never really good with kids.

theo dropped my hand, ignoring the end of our conversation. he marched over to her, squatted down to speak to her. i couldn’t quite hear what he said, but she looked up at him with these huge, sad eyes. tears stained her face.

theo stood. he offered her his hand. she took it gladly.

he talked to her, quietly, as they walked inside. i followed closely. we stood with the movie theater attendants while they found the girl’s mom.

later, theo showed me a photo of his sister that he kept tucked within a book in his bedroom. it was the only thing he had left of her. that, and the awful memory of what he’d done to her.

she looked to be the age of that little girl, the one who squeezed theo like an old friend before running off to her mommy. she kissed his cheek. she thanked him.

“every night, i have nightmares about…”

i remember holding him through these terrifying dreams…

“about what i did to her. i regret it- i regret it, y/n. if i could give my life to get her back i- i would do it in a heartbeat. i…i’m so sorry of who i am. of where i’ve been and what i’ve done. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry. i wish..i wish we could start over. i wish i could meet you in another lifetime, one where none of this ever happened.”

i held his face in my hands, gently, “theo…it’s okay. we all…we’ve all done things that we wish we could take back. we can only deal with the consequences, and make the best of it. i love you- i love you so much. i forgive you.”

remember when we couldn’t take the heat? i walked out. i said, ‘i’m setting you free.’ but the monsters turned out to be just trees. when the sun came up- you were looking at me.

“theo is…”

lydia didn’t quite finish her sentence, but my i did with my own sad realizations. “scared. he’s scared. he’s…he’s been fighting his whole life. he was just a…just a boy when the dread doctors found him. they manipulated him and- and, god. i-i was helping him and then…god, i’m so mean. i let your guys’ threats against theo ruin my own beliefs. and i let it ruin us…lydia- i-“

“i’m sorry,” she said. it was sincere. “i didn’t…i didn’t know. i’m so sorry, y/n. don’t blame yourself for how it ended. you…you had every right to say what you did. it was his choice as to how he reacted to it. and he pushed you away.“

“but, but- i could have stayed. i could have helped him. we could have worked it out- i need to go see him. lydia, please- take me home-“

lydia screamed.

my eardrums burst.

blood dripped down my jaw, staining the collar of my jean jacket. the tired squealed against the slick pavement. the car went over the side of the road, flying through an empty field, and crashing down on it’s head. broken glass scraped across my face. the seatbelt nearly choked me as our bodies twisted upside down with the car.

i was awake for a mere moments after the car stilled. the radio continued to play soft, haunting melodies. the rain pattered, splashing my face.

the only thing i could picture was theo’s face.

it was almost as if he was right there before me.

when i woke, i was in a hospital bed. i couldn’t quite open my eyes. my head was pounding and the florescent lighting stung my vision. the cuts in my skin thumped with my heartbeat. the iv in my arm felt thick, heavy, cold fluids running in my veins.

above the annoying beeping of the machines attached to my body were two voices. angry voices. arguing voices.

theo and scott.

“no, i don’t think you understand, theo! get out! i don’t want you anywhere near my sister! you- i don’t trust you! this probably happened because of you!”

my eyes shot open.

theo stepped back as scott yelled in his face. his tone was more calm than my brother’s, hands raised defensively, yet in a surrendering offer with his palms facing the ceiling. “scott, please, just-“

“no! get out! leave! before i make you!” scott’s hands were shaking with anger. he seethed, chest rising up and down wildly.

i tried to move, but my body paralyzed. words wouldn’t come, either, because a breathing mask was over my mouth.

“scott-!” theo tried, once more.

scott growled, eyes turning red, ears pointing up towards the moon in the window. he was completely transformed. i knew how dangerous that was. i knew how angry he was.

my eyes shot towards the doorway as mom quickly entered. she stopped before scott, placing her hands on his shoulders gently, “scott…honey, cmon, you’ve gotta breathe, okay? i’ve got a hospital full of patients and the last thing i need is to have the night janitor clean up after two werewolves.”

“then tell him to leave!” scott pointed a claw at theo.

mom looked towards the boy, brows furrowing in anger. she composed herself better. “theo…” mom spoke warily, “you need to leave. now.”

“no, you don’t understand! i didn’t do this! i-i brought her here! if i wanted to kill her, why would i bring her here!”

“to save your ass!” scott roared.

i examined theo’s face as it tilted towards the light. tears shone on his cheeks. mom pushed scott back an inch, “no, scott! hey, honey, cmon! he’s- he’s telling the truth. he brought her here- he didn’t try to kill her, scott!”

“then what did?”

“a deer,” mom spoke blankly. she pursed her lips. the confession was awkward, humanized compared to what we were all used to.

scott straightened his posture, transforming back into a human. his breathing evened out. “oh. i’m….”

theo sighed, ran a hand over his face. “look…i know you hate me. and you have every right to. but…i just…i’m not leaving. i’m staying.”

he took a step towards my bed. scott moved in front of him, blocking me. “stay away from her.”

“scott,” mom examined theo’s face as he met my eyes. he breathed out a sigh of relief and quickly grabbed my hand.

theo dropped to the chair beside my bed, clutching my fingers in his. he pressed his forehead to my touch, mumbling gratitude beneath his breath.

“i thought i lost you,” theo whispered.

mom and scott watched. mom crossed her arms over her chest, a wondrously pleased expression in her eyes. she glanced at scott. he gasped at our interaction.

i blinked away a tear. theo kissed the back of my hand. “i really thought i lost you. god- i’m…i’m never letting you leave me again. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for scaring you. i promise, i promise it’ll never happen again. i’m never gonna let go of you, i’m never gonna push you away again, okay? i love you.”

i nodded gently, unable to do much else. my fingers wriggled in his hands. he squeezed mine.

scott stepped forward, “theo…”

theo met scott’s eyes. he huffed, “please. please just five minutes. i’ll leave if you want me to, but…please, scott just give me five minutes, okay? you can chase me out of beacon hills, to the ends of the earth, but please let me have five minutes with my girl.”

scott went to say something else, but mom grabbed his bicep. “five minutes.”

she began leading then to the hall, scott following begrudgingly. she looked over her shoulder to tell theo, “five minutes and then we have a lot to talk about, okay? starting with you’re gonna start going to therapy and i have a 24 pack of condoms in my office.”

my face turned beat red.

theo laughed, a relieved, gentle sound i had missed for far too long. he met my eyes again.

“i love you.”

you were looking at me. i remember. are we out of the woods yet? are we in the clear yet? good.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Burn for you ❞

post-s6!Stiles Stilinski x werewolf!male!reader | nsfw, smut | sub.bttm. reader (AMAB) | not proofread | wc: 4k

warnings: omegaverse dynamics (r!), praise kink, biting, scratching, spanking

req: can I ask for a stiles fic, like reader(m) is a werewolf n went into heat and the only person he actually trusts from the pack is stiles so he just bursts into his room in the middle of the night all hot and sweaty and stiles is just dumbfounded until he realised what was wrong and he helps him all night 😋😋 anyway and like end it with some cuddles n stuff if you can, oh and like a shit ton of praise just like mass amounts, plus like biting, scratching maybe a few smacks here and there and that's it! (bottom amab reader pls)

"This is insane," by all accounts he was right. Stupid, cunning, frantic and witty Stiles Stilinski was right. This was insane. "Stiles," but here you are — countering his factual statement. "Stiles, please..." The hands in his hair stop and he looks at the state you're in. Actually looks. His eyes take in the wildness in your eyes that, once upon a time, would've made him flinch as they glow in the dim lighting of his dorm room. Yet at this moment, they're anything but frightening, instead they're desperate.

There's a startling realization that the werewolf before him was desperate for him that makes Stiles choke on his own spit. The hands in his hair travel down to cover his mouth but you know it's still in that annoyingly slacked-jaw pose. Why were you sneaking into his dormitory room through a window!? "Stiles!" You land on your feet and now Stiles has a werewolf in his dormitory room. The carpet silences the thudding your shoes make as you reach for the collar of his shirt. It's new. Sheriff Stilinski probably bought some new clothes for Stiles for Christmas —that's not the point. The point is, his shirt is new and you're stretching the round collar wider at the front, claws teasing the fabric as you grit your teeth together to stop your fangs from making an appearance. "Hey, easy, easy!" His palms rest on your face. Stiles squeezes your cheeks together when he feels fur attempting to sprout. He shushes, twisting his head on a swivel around his tiny room. His roommate said he'd be out but the lights from underneath Stiles door is on and he sees shadows moving. He can handle a werewolf in distress but handling that whilst keeping the secret of the supernatural away is a juggling act he'd rather not attempt. He's had his fill from his high school days. He'd rather not repeat it again in college.

What were you even doing here? Last time you two called you'd been in Beacon Hills, California helping his father out with some rogue werewolves. What the hell were you doing in Quantico, Virginia!? "(Y/N)," his eyes are set in a determined squint. Yours are furrowed, eyebrows meeting in the centre that makes a slideshow of memories appear behind Stiles eyes with every blink. The second time he says your name it's softer. As if he recalls who you are and you squeeze your eyes shut at the warmth in his voice. Shoulders sagging and grip loosening, you lean forward to bury your face in the crook of Stile's neck.

Everything is fuzzy. There's someone else nearby — two someone's, to be exact, but everything beyond Stiles' door is irrelevant.

Everything beyond Stiles is irrelevant.

Stiles wraps his arms around you. You swear you can feel every scar on his palms and finger pads despite the jacket you wore. It's mindboggling how amplified Stiles is right now.

He eyes the shadows from his door. They pause and Stiles grip on you tightens. It elicits a gasp from you as you clutch the front of his shirt again. Stiles ignores how hot his ears feel as your lips brush against his skin and how he can feel the tips of your teeth (not fangs, thankfully) whisper along the thickest junction between his neck and shoulder — or he tries to. His pulse quickens and you're so close too him you can feel it, see it, hear it. Your hands are flat against his sternum. With your eyes aglow you tilt your head down to spread your fingers across his chest. "Shh, shh, my roommates asleep," Stiles would thank Tom (his roommate) for being considerate but a few giggles escape the girl he's brought over and Tom is pushed against the door. The sound is decidedly too loud for an already sensitive werewolf so you lips curl in distaste. Your growl only cut short by Stiles hands smacking itself over your mouth so hard your head tilts back.

"Stiles — !" "(Y/N)" his whisper is sharper than you're used to. The frown etched onto his face is so familiar but so...grown. It had only been a year since graduation. Since that mess with the Wild Hunt and everything in between. Stiles looks so adult now. Oh, there's still mischief written all over his face but everything that was soft-edged was sharper and there was this hint of a stubble along his jaw and chin. The bags under his eyes were probably because of wild nights roaming Beacon Hills woods for dead bodies but it seemed college exacerbated it tenfold. It reminded you of the Nogitsune when it had Stiles but he wasn't pale and he was still familiar. You're staring. You realize that you are but Stiles just looks so handsome and the memories are flooding in faster than you can stop them. His hands smell like energy drinks, spilled pen ink, dusty cold-case files Stiles definitely had no authority to be snooping through and home. Stiles flinches, chest concaving away from you when you whimper and tug at his shirt.

No, not whimper.

Moan.

"...Your roommate has company too," Tom's girl whispers barely reach his ears through the door. Their shadows stumble away with a few 'hushed' giggles but Stiles only tears his eyes away when he hears his roommates door shut.

"What the - Are you hurt? (Y/N), it's 2 am — You-You're supposed to be in Beacon Hills!"

Why is he so far away from you? He's pacing again, combing through his hair again and he's rambling again.

"Stiles," he doesn't pause as you call for him. He's too frantic to see the way you're panting or the way your cheeks are heated. "You know you're supposed to call me first when things happen!" He gasps and spins to looks at you. "Is it an emergency? Does Peter have another kid running around or something? Hunters? Are you —"

You're breathing too hard. He inches closer again. It feels like he's teasing you. Moving to-and-fro like a sly fox teasing a wolf.

"You're hurt?" "Stiles," the whine is high in your throat. A keening almost. It makes Stiles hands hover over your shoulders when he'd been gripping you so tightly minutes before. "Stiles, I need you"

"Need? Need...Need me to - For what exactly?" Your jacket is shrugged off. He can see the way your shirt is sticking to your skin. To his relief he sees no wounds, no blackened veins bulging and spreading across your skin because a hunter gave you a dose of Wolfsbane poisoning. It leaves him more confused. More flustered. "Somethings happening to me," you take steps forward. Stiles lets you. "What's wrong, (Y/N)?" He wants to turn on the lights in his room. Moonlight looks wonderful on you and the table lamp is less headache inducing to work in during these times but he's frozen with concern.

What if you were cut by a tiny blade covered in Yellow Wolfsbane? Or some other type of poison — a Kanima maybe? No, you weren't paralyzed. You weren't dying, if you were dying he' be sure you'd be more panicky but goddammit what if you were and you didn't realize it!?

"Derek...Derek said it happens to werewolves wuh-when we've...matured," Stiles wasn't there to witness the chaos the pack went through with the other wolves. Blissfully unaware of the embarrassment that lasted for days and it wasn't as though Scott was going to tell Stiles about the time he was so painfully horny after his 18th birthday that Malia and him effectively traumatized Melissa. "Matured...?" "Stiles, my birthday just passed," you don't want to say it. It kills you every time you even think about it so why would you want to say it out loud? "Happy...birthday?" But Stiles wasn't catching on. Derek had advised you about holing up somewhere. Said something about finding someone to partner up with. Preferably a pack mate and not some stranger in a bar. The notion was far too embarrassing. Scott was like an older brother to you and he was dating Malia who you think would probably not mind if you decided to spend your heat with the two of them. You minded though. So, no. Derek was a definitive no. Too much angst, too broody and too old for you and Lydia didn't deserve to be subjected to anymore werewolf biology nonsense then she already had. There were more pack mates but they were all a no but, Stiles...? He made you feel so safe. His brilliance was blinding (sarcastic quips included) and his valor in deathly situations were enough to make you swoon. Such kindness despite the torments life had thrown his way. Even now, he's showing it. He's holding you, tender and sweet, and his eyes are scanning you for injuries. "Stiles..." Your eyes meet. His brow furrows and his hand is cupping your cheek again. "Stiles, I'm...I'm in heat." His mouth opens then closes then opens before closing. Stiles is doing that thing where his brows are moving on their own and his eyes are blinking rapidly which means he's thinking. "Whaaat does that mean? Just - just as a clarification ya' know" You groan. The pants you're wearing has been achingly tight and you can't stand it anymore. "Dammit, Stiles! I need you to fuck me! I'm in heat, I feel - I feel like my skin is on fire and I - I just, fuck, please, Stiles, please" There's tears in your eyes. Embarrassment be damned, it's too much. It felt like your senses were fucking with you, it's been like this for days, symptoms of oversensitivity steadily raising until it reached its boiling point that caused you to drive all the way to here. But all of it washes away when Stiles is holding you. All your focus is on him and it relieves you of so much pain why the fuck isn't he holding you now? "Please, I need you, I need you so badly."

Stiles catches you when you trip over your own feet, faceplanting into his chest where he can feel your open-mouthed breathing. Your hands cling to his shoulders, his wrap themselves around your middle as you cry. "It hurts, Stiles. I can't, I can't think I just — Mmf, you smell so fuckin' good," your gaze lifts up and Stiles groans into your mouth when you surge forward to kiss him. It's a shitty kiss. Sloppy, messy, and there's a clear lack of coordination but fuck it was hot. His tongue brushing against yours along with his lips.

You feel the dry patches he has — clearly college has triumphed his basic needs so you fix it by wetting his lips with your tongue. His grip tightens as you push him back, back and back until the back of his knees knock onto his bed. He falls. You fall too. It's not the first time he's had a werewolf over him but it is the first time he's had a werewolf in heat on top of him. He prefers this compared to the other instances. The window of his room, where moonlight floods in, cast you in this blue hue. It contrasts with the warm hued light of his desk and the colours look so fucking good on your skin. Your lashes are dark with tears. Stiles is certain he's tasted a few of them while kissing you. He reaches up and wipes the evidence of their path away. You turn your nose into his palm like a puppy and Stile's plaid patterned pajama pants feels a little tight. A tear slips and Stiles uses both hands to hold you. Those pretty eyes flutter open and Stiles gulps. You were (Y/N) (L/N), a longtime friend. One of the first guys that made him realize he was bisexual. A cherished friend, someone he could imagine one day meeting up for drinks even after decades have passed. Here you were, on his lap. "Why, why me...?" It was a fair inquiry. He lived miles away and he hadn't been available as of late too. You? You were a looker. So handsome and kind it made Stiles feel guilty every time he jerked off and your face appeared in his thoughts. You could have anyone you wanted. If the werewolf thing was stopping you from getting with anyone...well, it wasn't as if there were a shortage of werewolves in Beacon Hills. The sounds of your breathing muffles the beat of silence. Then, you're leaning down and Stiles places a hand on your chest to stop you. "You...You don't want me?" He feels your muscles tensing. Ready to dart if he nods but he doesn't. "I...I really want you, (Y/N)" You lean again and again he stops you. "Stiles, please —" "Why me, (Y/N)?" He knows you're thinking. You have this tell on your face when you do and since you're just inches away from him he'd be blind not to see it. "Because I...I trust you, Stiles. Muh...More than anyone else. I don't just need you, Stiles, I...I want you" It's his turn to talk but he's quiet. You're whimpering again, hips twitching as you try so very hard not to act on impulse despite the way your body is on fire. There was this annoyingly loud voice in your head just chanting Stiles name and it's killing you that he is so, so, close but not fucking you. When Stiles kisses you it takes you aback, teeth clacking and all but neither of you care. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and he's gripping the back of your neck as he all but devours you. Your hands slide up his shirt. He flinches, pulling away from the kiss and squeezing your neck. "I bruise easily," you're confused. He motions to your hand with his eyes and your eyes widen when you see your claws fully extended. "Shit, Stiles, I'm sorry —" He cuts you off with his mouth. Your eyes are rolling back and he swallows every pathetic noise as he grabs your hips, ass, then your thighs. The yelp you let out when he twists you surprises you both. He's between your legs now, above you and grinning boyishly. "That's — That's new," he nods before diving in to mottle your neck. Your fingers are curled into fists as you arch your back into him. "Learned some self-defense moves, came in handy, huh?" Your laughter dies when you feel Stiles teeth playfully bite into your flesh. "I mean, it works against werewolves" Both of you glance at the wall behind you when you hear repetitive thuds, followed by a squeal of pleasure. Stiles wants you to scream on his dick like that too. You gasp, whispering out his name when Stiles undoes the annoying obstacles that is your pants. Your boxers have a wet patch on them and you nearly kick Stiles off when he presses a kiss on it. He's hastily tugging your pants away from your legs but you're not cold at all. Everywhere he touches you feels like he's setting you on fire.

But it's good. Not like "before Stiles", not like "without Stiles" burning that makes you feverish and turns your skin unbearably lonely. Stiles touches spreads this delicious burn across your skin. Your shirt is next. Stiles doesn't help you with, just watches as you take it off and toss it to the side. He's over you again, kissing you again and you're so overwhelmed you can't help the noises you're making. His fingers ghost along your navel but you've no time for foreplay. You grab his wrist and guide it down to your crotch, bucking your hips up from his ghost-like touches. "Fuck, you're pent-up," You're nodding in agreement, balls tightening as he finally, finally, slips a hand into your underwear. Your torso twists to the side, moaning like a whore as he holds your cock in his hands. "Really pent-up" Stiles jerks his wrist and you're biting your hand to keep the noises down. "Don't, not like they're holding back" Stiles reminds as the headboard banging grew more incessant. He pulls your hand away, pinning it down as he watches your face. His fingers are so good, palm warm and your precum is excessively leaking down. Probably a side-effect of the whole "in heat" thing. His thumb digs into your slit and he's groaning at your wanton moans. Curious, he slides his hand down. "Stiles," you feel him touch your balls but he slips further down to your perineum then to your twitching entrance. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "You're wet" Stiles astute observation makes you dig your heels into the mattress. "You're wet"

"Stiles!" You can't handle this. You need him inside you not have a QNA session. "You've fought werewolves, a Kanima, hunters, the Wild Hunt, the Nogitsune, fuck — You survived holding Derek Hale up in a pool full of water while he was paralyzed for hours, stranger things have happened than my ass being self-lubricating!" You spread your legs, holding your thigh open as you try to catch your breath. He watches, entranced, as your fingers slip into yourself. It slides in with ease and familiarity. You're pumping one finger then two and then three. The way your rim stretches and clenches — Stiles sees it all. Stiles towers over the foot of his bed, over you, and you're relieved as you spot his hands replacing yours. His fingers are longer than yours and it has you melting as he pumps into you. "Shit, you're so warm" "All for you, baby, just for you," his ears are burning again. You look so blissed out but Stiles knows this isn't what you want. His shirt is the first to go and after stepping out from the puddle of checkered patterns Stiles is naked too. His cock is just as pretty as he is. There's moles on it, veins decorating the underside of it. It's long, more girthy near the base. "You manscape...?" You ask. "Shut up," Stiles replies. Stiles splits your legs apart, they're cushioned on the top of his thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck. The tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips catching yours again. He only pulls away when you feels his head catch on your rim. Stiles watches your face as the pressure gives and he's inside of you. He's biting his lower lip, wanting to only hear you (Tom isn't helping but that's not in his control). "Oh fuuuck, Stiles, Stiles your — " Stiles nods, pulling his hips away a bit before inching more inside. It has you whining. The delicious drag of his dick makes you clench and he hisses. "You feel so fucking good," he whispers against your Adam's apple, grinning as it bobs when you gulp thickly. Your claws are out again but he's electing to ignore it as it leaves kitten scratches across his shoulders. "God, (Y/N), you're so tight, so warm — Jesus fucking Christ, I —"

His words are making you squirm. It feels like an eternity but once he's fully sheathed inside of you it feels like all those days of overstimulation hell was worth it. The both of you moan and Stiles relishes in your velvety walls as they welcome him. "Like you were made for me," You whimper out his name. He notices your eyes are wet with tears and so he braces himself on his elbows, pushing you further up his bed. The jostling makes his dick pump into you and you mewl sweetly. "Don't have to cry, pretty boy, I've got you," he cradles the back of your head and places his forehead on yours. "Stiles..." Your eyes widen as he thrusts into you. He's watching closely. Your face scrunched up in ecstasy as he moves in and out of you. "You're so beautiful, fuck, (Y/N)" He hisses again when you clamp down at him. Only looking away to see your cock twitching in a tell-tale sign of an oncoming orgasm. Stiles chuckles as he grips at the base making you groan, shaking your head. "Hey, shh, relax, I'm helping you out. I'm not an asshole," he does that thing with his wrist again and your back arches. You see white and he slows his thrusts down, his back stinging but it's not the worst thing he's been through.

Stiles kisses down your throat and chest. He rubs soothing circles in your hips but he's still so painfully hard inside of you. The very feeling has your cock filling up again. He wraps his lips around your nipple, twirling his tongue around it and letting his teeth catch it as he pulls away. The entire thing has you shuddering. Stiles grabs a handful of your ass then maneuvers you onto your stomach, slipping out of you smoothly before positioning himself behind you. "FBI training?" You pant out as you look at him from over your shoulder. It makes Stiles laugh. "No, uh, just good ole' experience and porn" You roll your eyes at him and he grunts as he grips your hips. "Oh, I'll give you a reason to roll those pretty eyes," His pulls almost all the way out then slides back home. You moan out his name, clutching onto his bedsheets so hard there's a distinctive ripping sound. None of that matters though. The position you're in makes Stiles go in so deep it feels like you're in heaven. Your back is bowed and your face is in the sheets. Stiles sucks his teeth as he watches the way your ass ripples and bounces with every thrust in. You're writhing on the bed, moaning out his name as he plows into you. Stiles can't help himself. He lifts his hand and you squeal at the impact of his hand against you ass. "That feel good?" With the way you're backing up on him, he assumes that means yes. He squeezes your ass in his hands, watching the flesh blush because of his hands. Every spank makes you tighten around him and he groans as he soothes the stinging with his kneading hands. "So good for me, fuck, (Y/N), that's it just — Ah shit, shit, shit, your ass feels so good" Your cock is hanging heavy between your legs. Stiles grip on your hips is almost bruising. Your sweat slicked skin under moonlight has Stiles approaching his orgasm quicker than he anticipated. "I'm going to — " "Yes, yes, yes! Inside me, inside me, Stiles"

His thrusts become more and more erratic and you feel your second orgasm coming at you like a freight train. He's so beautifully loud the closer and closer he gets to his orgasm, you're whimpering as he ruts into you. His hands slide up your hips and he curls his arms around your shoulders to pull you up. Your back flushed against his chest. Stiles kisses you, messy and hot, and you only pull away to moan out his name as you come all over the bed sheets. He's not far behind, he fills the inside of your ass with thick ropes of cum and every involuntary twitch of his hips makes you let out whiny moans. His thighs twitch but Stiles makes sure you don't fall in your own cum. He lays you down next to it, slipping out of you with a groan before he bunches up his blanket to toss it to the pile of dirty laundry. You cling the second he lays next to you and he does not object. He pulls you closer, catching his breath as he kisses the top of your head. "That felt good?" You nod, asking him the same question with a scratchy voice. "Fuck yeah it did, holy shit," You grin as you grasp at his chin to give him a rewarding peck. "You're so...You're so hot, you know that?" "Stiles," you bashfully glance away (an odd time to be bashful but that can't be helped) and Stiles squeezes you closer. "I'm serious! I'm not saying it because of the post-sex glow or whatever — which, by the way, you are glowing" Your guffaw, hiding your face with your hands as he continues look oh-so-proud of himself. "I slept with (Y/N), I spanked his ass — He wanted me" "You're talking to yourself," you murmur, ear twitching as you hear Tom and his girl also coming down from their romp. How nice. Orgasms for all it seems. "And it's wants not wanted" He feels something twitch against his hip. Stiles peeks down and laughs in disbelief. "I still want you, Stiles..." Your eyes glow again. The way you're nosing his neck makes his dick raise to attention. "Stiles," you call. "I've got you, (Y/N)," he answers.

[stilinskibaby]

FRATBOY!STILES STILINSKI × READER

a breath of fresh air, that's how stiles describes you. he has a reputation but you puts all of that on hold the moment he meets you. he's all craft beer, snap backs and teasing smirks. he makes you feel like you're on fire, a spark that can't put out. can you make him settle down?

[starshipsofstarlord]

Little Rascal

The pack discovers that Peter has a life that he cares about hidden in Beacon Hills. A wife and a son that they have never before met (1.4k)

Warnings - fluff, pet names, dad!Peter, brief mention of murder and sex, Peter’s secret little life, threats, season 4 based yet loosely different with how Peter goes about working with Scott, deadpool

peter hale masterlist main masterlist more teen wolf

To say that Peter was glad to be home, away from all of the chaos that he contributed within the McCall pack, was a dangerous understatement. He hates being away from his own little world, for he cared for those he had in it, and he was a whole different person whilst he was there.

Home, it was the first time in a long duration of such where he felt as though he could call a place that. But it wasn’t just the environment, it was also those that lived in it alongside him, he loved the mundane aspects, how he could relax on the sofa and not have to worry about the ghosts that were in his scorned past.

“Honey Bee.” Peter called out to his sentimental lover; the only one he could love other than his troublesome young son. The dismissive clatter of dishes reached his ears as they were placed in the kitchen basin, and his love came to stand before him as he was seated on the couch, a tiny monster of his own creation clasped with his arms around his mothers legs.

“Yes darling?” She spoke softly to him, combing through her son’s dark locks with her maternal fingers, and the sight made the big bad wolf smile a real smile, one of happy content. Y/N’s head was cocked to the side as she enquired on why he called for her presence, and the man stood, untangling his child from around his wife’s legs and brought him up into his arms.

Taryn was weightless, yet he weighed down Peter’s heart heavy with loving adoration. He could not wait until he and Y/N procreated another little critter that would run around their home just the same as the one he held did. It was the best thing to ever happen to him, being a father.

He had not watched Malia grow up, and that was nothing short of a shame, but now he had the chance to do better and be there as he was more than well aware of the ever encompassing presence of his youngest child.

“I-“ before he could speak on what he had planned, there was an ever so stiff knock rattling on the front door to his secret haven. A derelict sigh made the man roll his tortured eyes as he steadied Taryn more securely upon his hip, pressing a firm peck to his wife’s temple before stepping towards the entrance to their home and unlocking the barrier that protected all that he cared for to onlooking eyes.

And there on the other side was formidably confused pack members, of which he occasionally aided, his only surviving nephew included. His arm propped more securely around his son as he glared with lack of impression, bemused about his unexpected visitors.

They shouldn’t have been here, he hadn’t even let them know the whereabouts of his address, and thus they must have tracked his scent to here. “Can I help you?” The old alpha scowled, his expression creasing even more when Derek dared to take a step closer. “That’s your son.” His raven haired nephew stated, picking up on the boy’s familiar scent.

“You have a kid, other than Malia?” Stiles retorted, feeling rather glad that his werecoyote girlfriend had not accompanied them to their destination. Scott too was rather surprised, he had expected that Peter had nothing driving his life other than a blood lust for power, however it appeared that they had all been wrong. There was a piece of him that was surprisingly human, and it was something that none of them had ever expected to uncover.

After all he had done, perhaps he had committed his wrong doings for another reason than vengeance; he was protecting his own little pack. “Peter, we need your help.” Scott stated with his soft alpha demeanour, understanding if he were unwilling to give his aid at this particular time. He had never been a fan of Peter, not after changing him to be a werewolf against his will, and especially not after threatening the lives of those he cared about, but he had to admit, he conditioned a heart felt feeling for the man. It wasn’t quite happiness, but it wasn’t not happiness either.

“I guess you’ve caught me in a good mood.” It was something the pack members had rarely witnessed, Peter was hardly generous, but he wanted to try and be a good example for his son. “Come on in - but don’t make yourselves at home. I’d prefer for this to not take too long.”

At least his blunt honesty wasn’t peculiar behaviour, and thus with wary footsteps Stiles was forced by Scott’s hand upon the back of his shoulder to enter the home of Peter Hale. “What’s your kid’s name?” Derek asked, curious about his newly discovered cousin. The kid shyly bowed his head, his locks falling before his eyes as Peter placed him like a feather on the floor.

Taryn was preferable to remain in Peter’s shadow. Tucking his hands around his father’s legs as he adapted to the strangers that his father had invited inside. Without hesitancy, despite the company he had, Peter crouch’s down and comforted his son. “It’s okay, you can introduce yourself. These are… some friends of mine.” He’d have rather proclaimed them as acquaintances however that would unsettle Taryn, and it wasn’t exactly the truth.

“My name is Taryn.” The spawn of Scott’s first enemy quietly spoke, making his father proud for doing so. “Why don’t you go to your room son, I’ll be right in after talking to my friends.” The boy needn’t be told twice, he was shy, especially around the rare amount of strangers he had met, and so he gladly trotted off down the hallway, giddy for his ‘daddy’s friends’ leave.

Peter stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “What is it that you needed from me?” His stoic demeanour returned as he expectedly awaited an answer to those that brought constant chaos into his now calm life. “Perhaps to know who would have a child with you, the mass murderer that went around the town killing only for it all to be blamed on a mountain lion.” Stiles scoffed, shocked that someone would willingly procreate with such a monster.

“That would be me.” A voice startled the sarcastic boy, one of feminine grace and beauty which astounded Stiles whom was gasping at the sight of the goddess like creature that stalked in the room before them. “Do we have a problem here darling, or do I need to rip a tongue or two out to bring some quiet back to our home?” Her eyebrows raised as she glowered upon the folk that were crowded in the entryway, looking to her husband for confirmation.

“It’s fine Y/N.” It wasn’t very often that Peter called her by her name, however he was on edge for the seriousness that was contorting the faces of the pack members. “But what I am wanting to know is what isn’t fine, since I assume that’s what you lot were going to tell me.” Derek inhaled through his nose as Scott stepped closer, understanding that the threat was far larger to Peter than he had earlier anticipated.

“There’s a dead pool for supernatural creatures. They are going to try and kill us for money, your money in fact. And I’m willing to bet your family are on the other parts of the list; so, are you willing to help us protect our kind, or will you run, like you always do? I’d understand if you did the latter, I never knew you had a son and a…”

“Wife.” Y/N finished the sentence for Scott, crossing her arms as she stood closer to her husband. “If you need help, you have mine, I will do anything to protect my son.” It was unexpected however Derek nodded in appreciation for her words. Peter weaved his fingers through hers as he ogled worryingly at his beauty, and he was the beast, a beast that was to be hunted and fighting for the life of his family.

“Our son.” He spoke humbly, becoming protective as he thought of all he had to lose. “Just tell us what you want us to do Scott, but remember, our priority is Taryn, his life is more important than any other to us. I will not save a life if it means risking his, but we will do our best.”

“I understand.” Scott said harmlessly, for the first time gracing his maker with a smile. None of this would have tied the alpha up in this mess if Peter had never bitten him, however there was nothing for him to do that would erase that past. “And thank you, I’m glad that we’re on the same side when it comes to this.”

[blondwhowrites]

✨My Stiles Stilinski Headcanons✨

Is absolutely enamored by you and he had no idea how to talk to you at first without becoming an awkward mess. When you first met him Scott literally had to pull him away from you because he just kept on staring at you

Helps you with homework and school projects because it gives him an excuse to spend time with you and he also gets to show off how smart he is

You are the only person he shares his food with

He forces you to binge-watch Star Wars with him, and if he finds out you already liked Star Wars he's ecstatic

He is a Percy Jackson reader and prefers it over Harry Potter!!!!!!!

Is always late to dates because of his time blindness but he tries hard to make it on time!

Tells you about his ongoing cases and theories and encourages you to put your input in and is extremely proud whenever one of your theories turns out to be correct

Noah of course has his reservations at first since he obviously worries about his son, but once he sees you two together he instantly loves you

You become a part of the pack almost instantly

Lydia, Malia, and Addison (depending on the season) instantly take you in. You best believe you are invited to all of the sleepovers and shopping trips

Literally, everyone has no idea how Stiles managed to bag you. Stiles has no idea either

Is a mix of sassy men apocalypse™ and golden retriever vibes

No, just because he loves you does not mean you are safe from his witty retorts or sarcastic comments

He gets you a matching metal bat so you can protect yourself

Is wary of taking you along on cases because he worries you might get hurt. He especially worries after what happened with Void

Is the little spoon most of the time because he loves being held. He feels so safe whenever he is in your arms. With you he finally doesn't wake up every night from nightmares

He has a lot of deeply rooted trauma from losing his mom, and from everything that has happened to him since sophomore year

Will talk about random nonsense and then stop in the middle of the conversation because he notices you are actually listening to him instead of just ignoring him like other people do and he swears he falls in love with you all over again 🥹

Has panic attacks, and you are one of the few people who can instantly calm him down by just being near him

Loves talking to you about his mother. He even takes you to her grave and introduces you to her

Later he finds out that you go to her grave weekly and put flowers there and when he asks you why you do that you just say 'Because you love her and that means I love her too' and he sobs.

Noah also finds that out and he instantly knows that you are the one for his son. He is proud to call you his future child in-law

Loves PDA and has no problem holding your hand, or kissing you in public

He always needs to be touching you in some sort of way even if it's just holding your hand or resting his hand on your thigh

You are so supportive of his want to be in the FBI! He loves knowing that you'll always be cheering him on

You go to every single lacrosse game and cheer him on even if he doesn't get put in you are still yelling his name and cheering for him

You wear his jersey number all the time and he secretly loves it

Make outs in the jeep

Everything in the jeep

Overall 10/10 boyfriend

[murdrdocs]

concept not long enough for kinktober ; more stiles + vamp!gf minors dni

Stiles has a bit of a pain kink. 

He realizes this when you’re riding him, nails scratching down his chest. You’ve got insane stamina, evidence of your non-human abilities, but this is your third orgasm and you’re faltering. Stiles does what he can to help out, situating himself a little sturdier against the headboard so he can wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in, heels digging into the mattress to give him leverage to thrust up into you. 

You take the change gratefully, lips pressing to Stiles neck as you let out pretty little breaths that have a pitch resembling a moan. 

Your nails dig into his shoulders, they scrape around his back, and he can feel the marks being created. They sting, a delicious feeling he thought was just a one time thing in high school, his body younger and amped up on adrenaline during one of his first times having sex. 

Now, this is another tally in the dozens of times you’ve fucked him, and he knows that the feeling of you marking him is one he thoroughly enjoys. 

Your hand threads in his hair, grown out along the back simply because he likes it when you do this. You tug, nails scratching at his burning scalp, and Stiles stifles his moan by biting down onto his bottom lip. 

His hands dig into your hips, his thrusts increase in pressure and speed. 

He’s close, but hellbent on sending you over first. It’s not until your lips part and Stiles feels the gentle scrape of your teeth along the pronounced vein in his neck that he realizes he’s gonna cum first, a warning of his speedily impending orgasm barely slipping from his lips before he’s cumming into the condom, fucking himself through his orgasm while still attempting to fuck you to yours. 

When you cum, the strongest time of the night, Stiles has a fleeting wish for your teeth to slip into his neck. He imagines the pressure, the slight pain of the bones puncturing his skin and veins, and he’s already becoming hard again.

[newlynova]

MDNI. every night you wake up in a cold sweat— arms and legs too heavy to move, tongue weighed down by blocks of cement. you can barely breathe on your own, stale air trapped in your lungs as the glowing eyes in the shadow of your bedroom watch you squirm. pinned under by the weight of darkness, it seems that the demon in the corner of your room wants to give you more of a reason to squirm. cw void!stiles stilinski, sleep paralysis, somnophilia, dubcon. 1k.

"you're finally awake, hm?" a low voice breathed into your ear, the ghost of a fingertip brushing along the thin strap of your tank top. their touch was cold, sending an uncontrollable shiver down your spine as their fingers danced along the length of your chest.

"but not truly, are you? if you were… you'd be recoiling from me in disgust, you'd be screaming," they gave a sharp tug on your spaghetti strap, pulling on the elastic band far enough that when released, it made a harsh smack against your skin, the pain from the snap would have made you wince, would have at least prompted a scared whimper from your lips. but, you could barely make a sound— your limbs betraying you, laying uselessly by your side.

the edge of the bed dipped under the weight of the demon, the shadow of the night concealing his features with a dark mask. "i can see why the boy is so fond of you," the figure murmured to himself, their voice barely above a whisper. their fingers danced up the curve of your shoulder, ghosting over your neck before settling beneath your jaw, shifting your head in their direction.

"you're a lot stronger than you seem… a lot more stubborn than i realized," the figure leaned over you, their face just mere inches from your own. "but, you're not strong enough to evade me. you're in my domain now, and i will not allow you to break free from me so easily."

underneath the pale white glow of the moon, you could finally see who the intruder was— your best friend, your childhood crush: stiles stilinski. but, it wasn't really stiles, was it? no. no, it wasn't.

his skin was too pale, and the warmth in his chocolate brown eyes had transformed into something more… predatory. the hold stiles maintained on your throat tightened, his chapped lips curling up into a wicked smile. it was as if the boy you knew had checked out, and something else, something darker had checked in instead.

"you're a beautiful girl, did you know that? with such a pretty face, i can understand why the boy has allowed you to consume his every waking thought," stiles gave your neck a gentle squeeze, your pulse growing faster beneath his grip. you could barely breathe, the cool slivers of air you were allowed in barely filling your lungs. "i think i'll keep you here… make you mine and toy with you whenever i need. how does that sound, hmm? for me to keep you around like a pet?"

stiles leaned closer, the tip of his nose mere centimeters away from yours. you could feel the coolness of his breath fanning over your lips, his hand twitching against your throat. you wanted to scream, to push him, to hit, to do something. but, your body was powerless and the weight of his control over you was suffocating.

his other hand lingered over your hip, thumb brushing along the curve of your hip bone before shifting over to the warmth between your legs. your stomach grew sour as he peeled your thighs apart, your limbs stiff as he opened your body up to him. the smile on his lips grew larger, the white pearls of his teeth exposed as a cheshire grin painted itself across his face.

"look at you," he whistled as he straightened back up, his eyes now locked on the sight of your vulnerability. a damp patch had formed at the front of your panties, the thin fabric clinging to the outline of your folds. "look at how your body betrays you, darling. i'm not even touching you yet… but, here you are… already wet and aching for me like the good little pet you're meant to be."

the hair along your arms and legs stood on end as stiles licked at his lips, a glint of hunger swirling in his eyes. you wanted to throw up, the feeling of his gaze on your body making you grow nauseous. "i can feel your mind fighting your body, darling," stiles's tone darkened, his voice dropping an octave as he shifted into a comfortable position between your legs. "you're trying to convince yourself that you don't want this… that your body doesn't want to be bent, and stretched, and spread by my hands,"

"but, guess what?" stiles tugged the silver zipper of his jeans down, the rustling of fabric making your mouth grow dry. "it's better if you don't fight it. you're mine now, after all, it'll be better in the long run if you give in now, darling."

the weight of stiles's cock slapping against your cunt almost made you jolt in surprise, the heaviness of his erection prompting your cunt to flutter around emptiness. your clit twitched beneath the weight, his hips grinding against you at a languid pace. you wanted to push him away, wanted to hate the feeling of his dominance consuming you. but, even under the spell of sleep paralysis, you couldn't quite push him away. at least, mentally.

"that's my good girl," stiles praised with a wolfish grin, his large hands cupping the back of your knees, forcing your legs up towards your chest. he had folded you into a position of his desire, pushing your panties to the side with one hand while the other squished your thighs together to keep you in place.

the head of his flushed cock glided through your messy pussy lips, collecting and smearing your arousal around before dipping slowly into your entrance. your brain couldn't fight against him anymore, the burning stretch of his cock diving deep into you almost coaxing a moan through your dry lips.

"open yourself up to me, pet," stiles grunted as his hips slowly began to rock into you, the hooked curve of his cock catching against the sensitive gooey spot along your walls with each thrust. your cunt clenched around his cock, strangling his length and drawing him in deeper and deeper. "and, let me make you mine."

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN]

[3.1k] or, void understands you. he can help you. he isn’t scared of you or what you are. you just have to let him set you free. (smut)

.

“Look at you,” he cooed softly, his hands running over your exposed skin with a feather-like touch. “So pretty when you listen, little dove.”

“Please,” you whimpered out, your voice was breathy and soft and he loved it. He loved the way your glossy eyes stared up at him, the way your cheeks were flushed and your lips raw and the way your whole body responded to him.

“Good girl using her manners now, hm?” he murmured with an amused huff as his fingers trailed over the plain of your stomach, smirking a little when your body twitched under his touch. “What would they say if they saw you right now?”

“I—” you gasped when you felt his hand grip your thigh, keeping your legs open and spread just for him.

“They’re scared of you,” he told her as his eyes caught hers. His stare was intense and deep and made her squirm beneath him. “They don’t understand you and they never will, little dove. They don’t understand people like you and me.”

And despite your better judgement, the snide remark slipped past your lips. “And you do?”

There was a pause. The hands exploring your body stopped, the soft creaking of the pipes were the only sound that could be heard as the seconds dragged on and you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head up.

But Void had no problem solving that for you.

You felt his fingers roughly grab your chin, forcefully tilting your head back until his dark eyes met yours.

“I know you better than you know yourself, baby,” he gritted through clenched teeth as his leg slid between your own. “I know what makes you happy…what makes you sad,” he dipped down so his lips were brushing your own. “I know what makes you scream.”

Your eyes fluttered closed but quickly snapped back open when his grip tightened.

“They will never understand you like I do,” he whispered softly, almost like he cared. Almost like a lover’s words. “They will never give you what you need like I would.”

And a part of you knew what he said was true. They would never understand what you were or what you could do. It scared them. It scared them so much they locked you up in Eichen House without a second thought. They locked you away when they could no longer control you. 

“Pretty little dove trapped in a pretty little cage,” Void whispered as his hand slipped between your thighs, your legs practically shaking in anticipation. “I can set you free.”

“Please,” you breathed out, desperate and needy and so beyond caring what it meant now. It had been weeks now. Weeks of the lingering gazes and teasing touches, whispered words and late night talks. You found yourself intrigued by the hyperactive brunette, wanting—no, needing to know more about him.

Then something changed.

Something snapped in him.

Something darker.

But you, being the foolish and hopeful fool you were, you still blindly followed him because he wasn’t scared. He didn’t treat you like a freak of nature or a monster. He looked at you like you meant something, that you were worth something.

You followed him down to the basement because you craved it more than anything else. You craved him more than anything else.

It was a blur of emotions and pleasure. The way his hands gripped your hips, the way he led you back towards the couch and trapped you beneath him. The way his lips were on yours, his kisses as addictive as his words and the little sounds he made making you want to whatever he asked. Just as long as he kept touching you. 

He was pulling the scratchy material of your shirt off with your sweatpants following quickly after until you were tucked beneath him, dressed in only a pair of flimsy panties and your body burning up as you desperately chased your high over and over again.

But he would never let you reach it.

“You want that, baby?” Void hummed, his thumb brushing along the soaked material, drawing out a small whine from you when he circled your clit. “I can you make you feel so good.”

You nodded, hands gripping his wrist as you helplessly tried to grind against his palm. But Void was two steps ahead, pulling away from you completely as he tsked mockingly.  You let out a pathetic whine, every instinct in your body wanting to reach out for him, for the warmth of his body.

“Use your words, little dove.”

You stared up at him as he sat there, kneeled on the couch above you. Your eyes glanced down at his hands, following up his arms to the shirt that practically stuck to his body. Your gaze dropped to the front of his sweatpants, your throat going dry when you saw how hard he was, when you saw how badly he wanted you to.

“I want you to set me free,” you spoke so softly, looking like the semblance of innocence as your shaking hands rested on your stomach. Your pinkie darted down to trace the hem of your panties and he was seconds away from ripping the material off with his teeth.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, gulping a little. It made him hard to know he still scared you a little.

“You understand me.”

“That’s right, baby,” he praised as he leaned down to press a long, hard kiss against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands instantly reaching to grip his shirt as you tried to pull him closer. “I fucking understand you. I am the only one who can help you.”

“You’re the only one who can help me,” you repeated breathlessly.

The movements were quick and fast, almost invisible to the human eye but then again, Void wasn’t human. He sat back against the couch, with you now prettily straddling his lap. He could feel the goosebumps on your skin as he ran his hands up and down your arms. He could feel the way your body leaned into his. 

“If I’m gonna set you free, baby, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Void spoke, his voice low and gravelly and it sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded.

“Words, little dove.”

“Yes.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll obey you,” you said, your voice shaking a little.

“Atta girl,” Void murmured happily as his hands rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips. He watched with eager eyes as you wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking the digit as happily as you’d suck his cock if he let you.

You whined as he pulled his hand away, slumping back in his seat as he took in the sight in front of him. Your hands tucked behind your back, chest rising and falling with little pants and your eyes glued to him, waiting for him to touch you again. Waiting for him to allow you to touch him.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, little dove?” The mocking tone in his voice wasn’t lost on you, wanting to press your thighs together but your position prevented you from doing so. “So wet and needy for me. Bet you are just desperate to come, hm?”

You gulped, nodding your head frantically. “Wanna come so bad.”

“Yeah? My little dove wants to come?” his voice sounded so soothing, so fucking patronising but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame. “Go ahead then, baby.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as he relaxed in his seat, head laying against the back of the couch. “What?”

“Make yourself come,” he repeated again, his lips twitching into something quite vindictive and yet you couldn’t help but think how pretty he looked. “Use me, baby. Use me to set yourself free.”

“I-I don’t get what you—” you babbled, your cheeks burning under his watchful gaze as he cooed mockingly.

“Don’t get shy on me now, little dove, thought you were my good girl,” Void spoke as he ran his hands up and down your bare thighs. “What was that silly little fantasy you had? You…my thighs…yeah, you liked that one, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched as he let out a small laugh. You don’t know how he knew, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know how. The nights were you were unable to sleep, the covers were stuffy and your body felt warm and the only thing that made it bearable was slipping your hand beneath the hem of your panties and letting the pillow muffle your moans so you don’t get caught.

For him to know, to hear the little whispers and fantasies you thought you shared in the privacy of the dark rooms at night…

It shouldn’t have excited you as much as it did to know there was a possibility he was watching you, listening to you…that he was right there with you.

“Go on,” Void’s lips twitched upwards as he slowly guided you to straddle one of his thighs. “Put on a show for me.”

Deep down a part of you knew this was a bad idea. That you shouldn’t be here with him, alone and in this position. That following him down was your first mistake and everything else that followed only added to the mess. Deep down you knew that he was bad.

But you just truly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Your hands moved to grip his shoulders, lip nervously tucked between your teeth as you began to rock your hips back and forth. Slow, deliberate movies as your clit brushed against the material of his sweatpants, and it felt good but it was not enough. 

“C’mon, baby, use me,” Void urged, his fingers ghosting along your skin. “Thought you wanted to come, hm?”

“I do,” you whispered.

“Then stop acting like a fucking brat and do as you’re told,” he growled as his fingers twisted around the material of your panties and ripped them with ease, letting the ruined material drop to the floor.

Your hips stuttered against his thigh, your hands gripping his shirt as you tried to get the words out of your mouth but no sound came out. You stared down at him, helpless and dazed and god, you didn’t think you had ever seen something so fucking hot.

“Can’t do anything yourself, can you?” Void commented, shaking his head slowly and something in your stomach twisted. “Need my help for everything, don’t you, little dove? Can’t even come yourself.”

“I…I can,” you argued but it fell limp when he gripped your hips, guiding them along his thigh.

“Can you?” he mocked, head tilted to the side as your hips began to move more frantically. Moans began to spill from your lips, desperate and shameless and sounding so pretty so his ears. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” you cried out, shaking your head as he bounced his leg beneath you.

“You look so pretty like this,” Void praised as you clutched onto him like a lifeline. “Nobody can make you feel like this. Nobody can make you feel like this but me.”

“Just you,” you whined out, tears welling in your eyes and your thighs burning but you couldn’t stop, not even if you wanted to.

“Just me, baby,” he growled, lifting his hand to roughly grip his cheeks so he could watch the dazed look on your face as you reached your high. “You only need me.”

“I only need you,” you whimpered, lips parting when you felt the muscles in your body tensing up. “Please.”

“Say it.”

“Please,” you moaned out, eyes fluttering closed. “Please, let me come. I-I need to, just please, please, please—”

Words escaped you in a desperate plea, like a mantra he could have listened to over and over again. Your body clinging to him, hair sticking to the back of your neck and your whole body shaking as you shamelessly fucked yourself on his thigh as he sat there, fully clothed and amused. 

“Come for me, little dove.”

The words barely processed in your head as your orgasm washed over you, a bright white light shining behind your closed eyes. Your head tilted back, his name and moans mixed together deliciously with sobs as your body let the pleasure wash over you. You were exhausted and sore and barely fucking coherent.

But he wasn’t done.

He ignored the whimpers that left your mouth as his grip on your hips remained, your cunt pressed against his thigh. He guided your face to his, unable to help himself as he kissed along your wet cheeks, the salty taste of your tears making him groan.

“Look how good I’m helping you,” Void murmured, lips brushing against yours but he never quite let you lean closer to kiss him. “You’re gonna help me too, hm?”

You let out a shuddered breath.

“Gonna be my good girl and help me, yeah?”

“I wanna be your good girl,” you whined softly, squirming in your spot and letting out a small moan as your clit brushed against his thigh again. “I wanna help.”

“So good for me,” Void praised as you leaned into his touch. He had you wrapped around his finger and he knew that. He knew that you were so fucked out and so fucking out of it that you would have done whatever he said, would have done whatever he pleased. And he would be lying if he said that thought alone didn’t make him unbearably hard.

You barely had time to respond before he had flipped you over, your stomach pressing into the edge as he bent you over the back of the couch. You could feel him behind you, his hands gliding along your back and down to your ass, squeezing and groping it. You jumped a little when he landed a quick slap on your cheek, the sound echoing through the basement along with your soft whimpers. 

You wanted to turn your head back, to look at him over your shoulder and see his face as he enters you but something told you to do otherwise. Instead you laid there, hands clenching the fabric of the couch as he spread your legs and let the cool air hit your soaking cunt.

“So wet for me,” he mused with a laugh, his fingers sliding along your slit and pressing slow, deliberate circles against your swollen clit. He lightly shushed you as you whined, his fingers moving to slowly push one inside you, enamoured by the way your cunt instantly clenched around him.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Void muttered as he fucked you at a torturous pace, sliding in another finger to tease you that little bit more. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take me, little dove.”

“I can,” you gasped out, nodding your head helplessly. “I can take it. I promise I can take it.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to help you.”

Void groaned under his breath, the words sounding so desperate and innocent from your lips that he couldn’t resist any longer. He shrugged off the clothing with little care, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he pumped it a few times, spreading the bead of precum along his tip.

You could feel the heat of his body behind you, his arms caging you in against the couch as he ran the head of his cock along your cunt, tapping your clit as you wriggled and squirmed beneath him. Breathless pleas escaped your lips as you urged him to fuck you, to finally be inside you and who was he to deny you when you sounded so pretty.

A broken moan let your lips as he thrusted inside you, little care about being gentle or tender with you. The groans that escaped his lips didn’t sound human as he entered you, feeling your tight cunt clench around him with such neediness.

“You wanted this, little dove, you wanted me to fuck you like this,” he growled as he bottomed out inside of you. “Such a desperate little thing, so needy for attention, aren’t you?”

“Void,” you moaned out, one hand reaching back to grab or hold some part of him as he mercilessly fucked you, your body bouncing with each thrust but it felt so good you couldn’t even care. “Please, please, please.”

“So fucking cockdrunk you can’t even answer me,” he said with a laugh that sounded so patronising it shouldn’t have made you clench around him the way you did. “Do I do your fantasies justice, hm? Can he make you feel like I can?”

You let out a high-pitched whine. “Stiles—”

“Don’t fucking say his name when I’m inside you,” he growled, his hand finding it’s place around your throat as he pulled you back until you were pressed against his chest. “He wouldn’t even know what to do with a desperate little thing like you.”

Your brain felt fuzzy as you approached your second high of the night, so close to the last and yet your body crazed it. You crazed the release—you craved him—like an addiction, a shot of pure fucking adrenaline and dopamine straight to your brain. You craved him like you craved air.

“Please,” you cried out, your legs shaking as you reached closer and closer to that edge.

“Come around my cock,” It sounded more like an order over anything else, but you were happy to comply. “Come around my cock and scream my name. You sound so pretty when you scream my name, when you tell everybody in this fucking prison who makes you feel like this.”

Everything passed in a blur. The tidal wave of exhaustion and pleasure as your second orgasm wracked through your body, the way Void groaned your name as he quickly followed you through your high a few thrusts later, coming inside you as he did. The way your eyes fluttered closed because it took too much effort to keep them open. It took too much effort to do anything at that moment.

But you could still feel him. His warm, heavy body behind you as he slowly pulled out, a soft whine leaving your lips when you felt his fingers graze over your leaking cunt, slowly fucking his cum back into you with two fingers. Your body felt buzzed and tired and sore, and yet you didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop.

Not as he fucked you through another orgasm.

Not as he held your shaking body as you cried out his name.

Not as he pressed his lips against your jugular, whispering “you’re mine” over and over again until it was the last thing you remembered as you passed out.

Because he was right.

He was the only one who understood and he was the only one who could help you.  

You were his.

.

[soulofapatrick]

Rebuilding - Derek Hale x female reader

Summary: You show Derek the rebuilt Hale House you did for him

Words: 1.8k

warnings: none really; heavy making out

Notes: I can make a smutty part two

Y/N’s POV

The old Hale House had stood as a haunting reminder of the past, a testament to the tragedy and loss the family had endured. But now, it has been transformed into something new, something hopeful. With the combined effort of the pack and my Dad, it had become a symbol of rebirth and unity, a mansion that has welcomed every member with open arms and spare rooms for new pack members. 

As I stand in front of the restored mansion, I can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Derek, who had once lived here in its glory days, deserves to see what I’ve done to the place. He’s been through so much, and I wanted this surprise to be a new beginning for him… for us hopefully. 

The anticipation in the air is palpable, and I can’t help but fidget with the key in my hand as I wait for Derek. The old Hale House, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, seems to hold its breath in eager anticipation of his arrival. And then, I hear it - the familiar purr of Derek’s car engine. It’s a sound that I’ve come to associate with his arrival, and my heart quickens in response. The car pulls down the long, winding driveway, and I keep staring at the house, my hands shaking a little as I fiddle with the keys. 

Suddenly, there he is. Derek appears beside me, his tall, brooding frame casting a shadow on the gravel driveway. He looks rugged and handsome as ever, with that alluring air of mystery that has always drawn me to him. His dark brows are furrowed in curiosity and confusion, his eyes scanning the mansion before us as if he’s trying to work out where we are. It makes my heart drop as he doesn’t recognise it despite me trying to keep it as near as I can to the original Hale house. 

But then, something remarkable happens. As his eyes roam over the mansion’s exterior, his brows furrow even deeper, and then there’s a hint of disbelief in his expression. It’s as if the familiarity of the place has begun to dawn on him, piece by piece. The realisation hits him like a tidal wave. His kaleidoscope eyes widen, and a gasps escapes his pretty and plump lips, “Is… is this….?” His voice trembles with emotion, and for a moment, he can’t seem to find the words. 

I hold out the keys for him and he looks between the house and the keys and then back at the house, “I can’t… I… can you…” His voice falters, and it’s clear that he’s fighting back tears, the enormity of the moment almost too much to bear. Without a word, I’m nodding and reaching for his trembling hands. Our fingers interlace, and with a gentle squeeze, I lead him towards the grand entrance. 

Derek’s eyes remain locked onto the mansion, his disbelief and wonder still etched across his features. But he doesn’t need to say anything more for me to understand the whirlwind of emotions storming within him. 

I turn the key in the lock, my own fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. The door swings open, revealing the lovingly restored interior. The warm, golden light spills into the entryway, painting a new chapter on the old canvas of the Hale House. The grand entrance is now invitingly open, Derek taking a step forwards. His presence is so close to me that his chest is practically pressed against my back. The feel of him so near is electrifying, and it sends a shiver down my spine. 

“Welcome home Derek.” I say, my voice a soft, heartfelt whisper, as we cross the threshold together. 

The atmosphere inside is a mixture of nostalgia and fresh beginnings. The original features of the Hale House have been preserved, the hardwood floors polished, the walls adorned with artworks from the pack. The spaciousness of the rooms has been maintained, yet there’s a sense of cozy warmth that wasn’t there before. 

Derek’s gaze dances the space, a mixture of awe and sentimentality reflected in his expressive eyes. He appreciates the care and attention that went into preserving the essence of the house he called home. 

Then, he grabs my hands again with a gentle yet firm grip, leading me through the echoing halls as the pack gave us the house for Derek to see alone.  It’s a touch that sends a rush of warmth through me, the electricity of his touch palatable. We move through the house, our footsteps echoing, and Derek’s strides confident, as if he’s revisiting his own memories. 

As we ender the kitchen, Derek stops in his tracks. A soft, almost reverent sound escapes him, and his eyes widen again as he takes in the layout. It’s practically identical to the original Hale House kitchen, meticulously restored to match his recollections with the help of creepy uncle Peter. 

His grip on my hand tightens, and he turns to me, his expression filled with amazement, “This… it’s just like I remember it.” He says, his vice soft and filed with wonder, “You’ve brought it all back to life.” 

I can’t help but smile at his reaction. The kitchen holds countless memories for him, both happy and bittersweet, and seeing it so faithfully restored means the world to him. "We wanted it to feel like home," I reply, my voice equally hushed, knowing how much this place means to him. Derek’s thumb brushes over the back of my hand, his touch conveying the depth of his gratitude. It’s a silent exchange of emotions, the unspoken understanding between us.

And then, something changes in the air. Derek turns to me, his kaleidoscope eyes now shining with warmth and something else, something that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. His gaze flits down my lips, and in response, I can’t help but wet them with my tongue, suddenly feeling acutely aware of their dryness. It draws a small sound from Derek’s throat, low and almost involuntary, a testament to the magnetic pull between us. He leans in, closing the distance between our lips with a purposeful intent. Our mouths meet in a soft, longing kiss, a silent declaration of the emotions that have simmered between us for so long. 

His lips are soft yet insistent, moving against mine with a deliberate tenderness. I can feel the gentle, rhythmic movement of his mouth, each touch setting my heart racing. There’s a hint of urgency in his kiss, a desire that has been simmering just beneath the surface. Derek’s hands finding their way to my waist, holding e close as if he never wants to let me go. The touch of his fingertips against my skin sends shivers down my spine, and I press my body closer to his, wanting to feel every inch of him. 

My own hands move to rest on his chest, feeling the solid warmth of his body beneath my touch. They gradually work their way up, entwining in his shirt, wanting to pull him closer still. The connection between us deepens with every passing second, a silent confirmation of the emotions we’ve held back fr so long. 

Derek’s hands, which had been gently holding my waist, suddenly tighten their grip and before I can react, he’s lifting me up with a powerful yet careful motion. My legs instinctively wrap around this waist as he sets me on the edge of the kitchen island, never once breaking the kiss. 

Our lips remain locked in a heated embrace, a heated embrace, a testament to the fiery passion that's been ignited between us. Derek's tongue brushes over my lips, seeking entrance, and without hesitation, I part them, with a small, embracing sound escaping my lips which he swallows, tongue slipping past my lips. It's a dance of desire, a clash of longing, and a melding of two souls that have been drawn together by an irresistible force. Our mouths move with a shared urgency, each kiss deeper and more consuming than the last.

As our tongues explore and intertwine, Derek’s grip on my hips tightens, pulling me closer until I’m arched on the edge of the kitchen island. The sensation of his body pressed against mine is electrifying, sending heat down south where I’m pressed against his growing problem. It has my thighs tightening around him, hips jerking a little and drawing sounds from both of us. 

Finally our lips part, but only slightly, our foreheads resting against each other as we catch our breath. Derek’s voice is a husky whisper, filled with raw desire, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confesses, his words heavy with yearning, “ I couldn’t keep it in any longer.” 

My heart flutters at his admission, and I look into his kaleidoscope eyes, my own filled with the same longing, “Der…” I breathe, “I’ve felt the same way. I’ve wanted this as much as you have.” 

His lips find mine again, and the kiss that follows is fierce and fervent, a passionate culmination of our unspoken desires. It's a promise, a declaration, and a celebration of the love that has finally been acknowledged. 

But then, Derek's lips trail down from mine to my neck, and his kisses ignite a trail of fire across my skin. I gasp as his mouth leaves a mark, a fervent, possessive hickey, and another one right beside it. Each one is a silent proclamation of his desire, a mark of his longing for me. As Derek's kisses continue to trail down my neck, I gasp and my fingers clutch at his shoulders. The sensation is almost too much to bear, the heat of his mouth leaving a trail of fire across my skin, marked by possessive hickeys.

“Y/N,” He murmurs breathlessly voice heavy with desire, “If we don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He pulls away slightly, his eyes dark and smouldering now and he lets out a low and sensual chuckle when an embarrassing moan escapes me. 

“Maybe…” I have to clear my throat, “Maybe we should check out your room.” My heart is racing as I say it, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and desire, eager to hear his response but also somewhat ready for the rejection. 

Instead, he groans, head falling to my shoulder before he growls out, “Don’t… don’t say things like that baby girl.” I stay silent, knowing there’s more and he kissing my collarbone sweetly before murmuring, “But, I think it’s a very, very good idea.”

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

Teen Wolf Masterlist

TAGS

@bellabadacadabra

[specialagentlokitty]

Derek hale x Sister!reader - my sister

Hi so this is the request I try to send you before through the inbox. I wanted to know if you could write a Derek Hale x big sister reader where the reader is very very protective like almost overprotective of him ( he could be her anchor )and I wanted to see how the whole pack would react to that because everyone know that Derek can take care of himself and also that he's very strong, they don't really understand why the reader is so protective over him and then someone explain why she so protectives over him ( it could be Chris, Peter, Noah or even Deaton) and that since the fire it got a little bit more worse. Please, I love how you write the siblings bond that I read on your blog. Sorry it's very long - @bakakara666💜

Looking at your little brother come limping into the loft, you pointed to the couch and he sat down, watching as you wondered away.

Everyone else filed in behind Derek, Scott a little injured but nowhere near as bad as Derek was, and they watched as you came back over.

You dragged the coffee table over and sat in front of Derek, taking his arm in yours as you wordlessly tended to his wounds.

“Doesn’t he know how to do that himself…?” Stiles whispered.

“Of course he does idiot.” Peter hissed.

Peter looked at you carefully tending to your brothers wounds and he sighed softly.

“Then why is (Y/N) doing it?” Lydia asked.

You glared at them all, and Peter ushered the into a different part of the loft while you carried on helping your brother.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Hunters, nothing serious don’t worry.”

You nodded your head very slowly, and began to clean the wounds on his other arm.

“How’s your side?” You asked.

“Healing, it should be mostly healed now.” He said.

You nodded again.

Derek looked down at you, your tired eyes focusing carefully on what you were doing and he sighed a little bit.

“You don’t have to do this.” He said.

“Yes I do.”

Derek reached up, grabbing your wrist in his hand and stopped you, forcing you to turn your attention up to him.

“You don’t. It’ll heal.”

“I have to do this Derek.”

You both stared at one another for a few moments before he slowly let go of your wrist, letting you go back to looking after him.

“Are they still alive?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You tossed everything into a bag and set it aside, standing up, you began to walk towards the door.

“(Y/N) don’t!”

Everyone else came out of the room to see you standing in front of the doors to the loft, yellow eyes fixated on the door.

“(Y/N).” Peter warned.

You glared at him.

“Leave it, they’re not worth it.” Derek said.

You slowly turned around, your yellow eyes staring into his blue ones.

“They hurt you. That’s all the do. Hurt.” You growled.

“And we handled it they’re not coming back. It’s fine.”

Derek walked over and he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t do it…” he whispered.

Gazing at your brother, you sighed, letting your eyes return to normal as you nodded and walked away to properly clean up.

Derek sighed heavily as he looked at you.

“What would she have done…?” Alison whispered.

“She would’ve ripped every hunter she came across to bits without thinking twice about it.” Derek said.

“So she’s dangerous? Great!” Stiles scoffed.

Derek turned around, grabbing stiles by the shirt and pulled him of his feet a little bit while everyone called for him to stop.

“My sister is not dangerous.” Derek growled.

He dropped stiles, shoving him back a few steps.

“Don’t ever call her that again.”

With that, Derek stormed away and when you noticed you went after him, calling his name.

Stile turned to Peter.

“What the hell is his problem?” Stiles asked.

Peter glared at Stiles.

“He doesn’t have a problem you called his sister, by niece, dangerous of course he’s going to be pissed.”

“Why is (Y/N) so protective of Derek?” Lydia asked.

Peter glanced towards the stairs then gestured to the couch, so everyone went to sit down and he stood in front of them all, arms crossed over his chest.

Upstairs you were sat with Derek, your hand in his as you both just sat silently.

“She’s always been protective of him. Older than him by 5 years, (Y/N) always felt the need to look after Derek. If he fell, she was there, scared, upset, angry she was right there for it all.”

Peter sat down on the table like you did.

“They were incredibly close. After the fire she became more protective, she had lost everyone aside from him.”

Peter glanced to the stairs again before looking at them.

“Derek is protective of her, sure. But she would bring this whole town to its knees if she had to just to keep him safe. (Y/N) can’t loose anymore of her family, it would tear her apart.”

Everyone nodded their heads.

“That’s why she was going to go find those hunters, right?” Scott asked.

“Exactly, she’d have killed them if Derek hadn’t stopped her. He’s the only one who can keep her temper in check, so remember that when you’re trying to get him arrested again.”

You stood up, placing your hand on Derek’s shoulder as you turned around to look at him.

“You’re okay, right?” You asked.

“I’m fine, I promise. Don’t worry about it’s nothing.”

You nodded your head a little and walked over to the window to look outside.

“Next time I’m coming with you.”

Derek glanced at you and said nothing about it because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop you.

If you wanted to go you would, and he knew there was absolutely no way that he could stop you from doing it, all he could do was stop you from trying to kill anyone who hurt him

[obriengf]

24 Minutes || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: You find Stiles hiding away after the burial of his mother. Words: 1.6k Warnings: sadness, mentions of death, mentions of graves, mentions of loss Notes: this was sad to write! also these babies are now 9 years old, growing up fast!

part two of TWENTY FOUR - a stiles stilinski series (masterlist)

The sky was grey; a murky tone that cast a shadowy blanket over a small town, a quintessential backdrop to a ceremony that held sadness and loss. It was the depth of angst that settled within hearts, pulling and tearing until a hole was formed and left unfilled. There was one less mother, wife, daughter, friend in the world and it was felt tenfold by every single person that surrounded her wooden casket. The rain had held off but it didn't make the circumstances any more fortunate - the sombre air only further strangulating the grieving weeps of townsfolk, the thick tension gathering within Beacon Hill's cemetery with such magnetic force. Today... was an incredibly sad day. It was hard to watch as your friend stared at his dress shoes, inadvertently accepting the sombre apologies from friends and family that were projected toward him and his father. He was usually a loud kid, full of energy and excitement and mischief - never able to settle down or lose his smile. From the day you first met him, Stiles Stilinski was the epitome of sunshine, but the decline of his mother's health brought out a gloominess in him that hurt your young heart nearly as much as it did his own. His hands were tucked behind his back, but you knew he was fiddling with his fingers - a way to express the anxious energy that was constantly building within him. The past few months had been extremely tough on the young boy, but today was the worst by far, and it was written so painfully across his permanent frown and puffy red eyes. You stood to the side beside your parents as they made small talk with others from around town, their voices drowning out as you kept your focus on Stiles and the immense sympathy you were holding for him. You desired to talk to him, to comfort him, hold his hand and be a shoulder to cry on - something that children your age should never have to worry about feeling, and yet, your chest squeezed with the inclination to do just that.

The ceremony was dismal, but the melancholy somehow was much stronger as you all gathered downstairs of the Stilinski residence - bodies clad in black moving slowly, sadly, as stories were shared and memories reminisced. It didn't feel right to be in this house with the absence of smiles and laughter from the family you grew so close to; the ones who you treated like an extension of your own tree, with as much love and trust that you had for your parents.

You were standing to the side as Scott McCall nudged your shoulder, his frame just slightly taller than yours. It had only taken six months of daily measuring until he finally passed that threshold - but he wasn't gloating about it today. The boy instead offered a smile of complete sorrow, a commiserative gesture, the only thing you two could muster despite the circumstances. He was the type to comfort anyone who needed it due to testing trials of his own and the demons that he still didn't understand clearly. A story of which you weren't aware of yet.

"Has anybody seen my son?" Noah's voice croaked, the hoarseness evident from hours of grieving. The crowd in the living room declined, quickly followed by the guests filtered into the kitchen. He looked worried as sudden urgency grappled at his features, an anxious act that was mirrored so easily when it came to Stiles' turn to express such emotion. Stiles was Noah's reminder of Claudia Stilinski - a physical being with her eyes and freckled complexion - and with that loss, he turned to panic.

Your hand was gentle as it grabbed Scott's wrist, careful not to tug too hard as you ushered him to follow you across the room. Noah Stilinski was a second father to you, and you hated the idea of your family hurting. You stopped abruptly in front of him, Scott nearly bumping into your back as he gathered composure, your eyes wide as you peered up. "We can find him, Mr Stilinski."

"Please, that would... I would really appreciate it, kids." Noah's left hand settled on your shoulder, as his right sat upon Scott's. He knew that if anybody could locate his son, it would be his two best friends.

You turned to Scott, pushing back every inclination to poke fun at his missing front tooth, before you nodded your head toward him, "Okay, Scotty. Where should we start?"

Twenty minutes had already passed by the time you peered down to your watch - red and blue pictures staring back at you, a Spiderman-themed timekeeper courtesy of Stiles for your eighth birthday. Stiles was still missing and you were running out of hiding places.

You huffed, frustrated at your inability to find him, and it prompted Scott to turn around with consoling eyes, "We'll find him, Y/N. Promise." A tight-lipped smile was all you could reply with before Scott hummed, his gaze flicking around the room in thought. You could've sworn you saw a lightbulb go off as an idea struck his young mind, that gap-tooth smile making another appearance, "Okay, how about we split up? I'll go outside and you can check some more upstairs!"

It was a good plan, you thought, despite already ducking your heads into the upstairs bathroom and Stiles' bedroom without any success. You wondered if Scott was trying to distract you, to buy some time as he tried to think of something better - but you complied regardless, not wanting to give up on looking for your friend. Especially after the weighted events of today.

Your little steps made the boards creak as you ascended the staircase, any further moves stopped as you ended up standing aimlessly in the landing. Stiles wouldn't have ventured far, he wasn't that type of kid, choosing to instead make new places out of the ones he already knew - and it reminded you of all the times you couldn't find him during Hide and Seek. Your friend was as creative as he was mischievous and it made such a simple game into an absolute challenge.

It wasn't until you remembered the one place you actually found him, before any of this creativity of his fell into serious play. It was obvious the more you thought about it and suddenly, a smile tugged up between your cheeks at the possibility that you knew where Stiles would be.

The hinges of his bedroom door carried a long squeak as you gently pushed it open, the echo loud as it bounced around the room. It didn't look any different to when you and Scott were here earlier, your watch now indicating that it had been twenty-four minutes since you declared your search party mission to Noah Stilinski. It was dull at first - the sorrowful sound of a cry, a sniffle to interrupt the heartache of a young boy. You hadn't noticed it before but now you found it hard not to. You followed it slowly as if any quick movements would set him off, and it led you to where you wanted to be.

"Stiles?" Your voice was tender and quiet, an alert to let him know that you had finally found him. Your friend sniffled in reply and your smile quickly dropped to a worried frown. You stared at the closet before opening the door - light filtering inside before highlighting the cowered figure of Stiles in the corner.

His knees dragged to his chest as arms locked around them, face buried except for the big glassy brown eyes you knew too well. He was heavily distraught and your heart ached dearly for him. You cooed before walking in beside him and taking a seat, your arms brushing as a form of comfort. Legs were crossed in front of you as your hands settled in your lap, gaze now trained on the boy as he had yet to look away from you.

"We've been looking for you." You spoke, head tilting only slightly to better see his face.

Stiles took a shaky breath as arms dragged over his eyes, an attempt to wipe away the trail of tears that had been nursing him in your absence. His voice was scratchy and fractured, "There were too many people... and they kept saying sorry, a-and it was too much."

"I know." Your arm reached out for him as it sat idly on his shoulder, trying to soothe his sobs. Stiles' head leaned against it swiftly as a form of comfort. "We can stay up here a little longer if ya want?"

He sat up straight; eyes widened as honey-glazed hues stared back at you, doe-like and sparked with hope. He was glad that you didn't try to force him back downstairs. "D'ya mean it?"

"Of course." Arms were held wide toward Stiles, an offering for him to fall into them before you enclosed them tightly around his frame. The embrace was sweet, and soon regarded as necessary as Stiles began to cry into your shoulder. He was tired of it all.

His voice was muffled, but you could still make out his words as the boy pressed further into you. "She's really gone, Y/N. Mom's gone." Your hands moved in circles over his jacket as he continued to cry, something your parents would do when you were upset to make you feel better. And as you did, Stiles' hands grasped the fabric at the back of your dress and pulled you against his chest - the mere thought of letting you go scaring him into thinking he'd lose you too.

Your features were scrunched as your brows furrowed and lips downturned. If made you coo, a soft hum, shushing delicately into the young boy's ear, "She is, Stiles. But I'll help you get through it. I'll always be here for you."

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise."