Stiles Stilinski Fanfiction

prettyfacejj

1 year ago

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

Tags

stiles x reader stiles stilinski imagine stiles stilinski smut stiles stilinski fanfiction stiles x y/n

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kowbelll

1 month ago

Hii! How's dairy queen Stiles doing!?

Hi! He's good, but he's anxiously waiting to see a certain someone again...

A little drabble based on the Dairy Queen!Stiles AU.

Word count: 291

Stiles never thought he'd be excited to go work at a fast-food restaurant, but his entire world was flipped last week when he met an angel.

He wakes up before his alarm, something he's never experienced before, but he's not upset about it because he can use this time to search every corner of the internet for the mystery girl. There's only so many people living in Beacon Hills; he's bound to find her eventually.

Yes, he knows she has a boyfriend - Victor, or whatever, but after watching them interact, he doesn't imagine they'll last very long. He hopes not, at least.

The minutes seem to pass like hours at work. He spends his downtime conspicuously gazing out of the windows, hoping he'll catch a glimpse of her hair or something, anything. His head whips over to the door every time the bell rings, signaling a customer's arrival. Just those seconds of distraction are enough for disaster to strike - just what he needs, more messes. He remakes drinks, refills cartons of fries, and mops up puddles of ice cream even more often than usual.

The whole process is frustrating, but he's getting increasingly slick to avoid more angry rants from the manager. His acting skills have improved greatly, though he's sure his smile is looking faker as the days go on.

When he finally goes home and collapses in his bed for the night, his dreams are filled with fantasies of beating the shit out of that douchbag boyfriend and spending peaceful, romantic moments with the angel he can't wait to see again (mostly the latter). He knows it's possible that he never will, but he also knows that if he does, it'll be absolutely magical, just like the first time.

Tags

teen wolf stiles stilinski dob dylan o'brien dylan o'brien imagine stiles stilinski imagine dylan obrien x reader stiles stilinski fanfiction stiles stilinski fluff stiles imagine stiles fluff stiles stilinski x reader stiles stilinski x reader fluff dylan o'brien fluff stiles stilinski x reader imagine stiles blurb dairy queen stiles dairy queen stiles au

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kowbelll

1 month ago

Sorry to ruin everyone's day, but Stiles holds hands when he cries, without a doubt.

Maybe he holds his love's soft palm against his own cheek while he speaks with a tremble, using it as a tether to help him work through his emotions. Their hands are practically soaked from all of his tears, but he doesn't even notice. He's only focused on her and all the love he feels radiating from her touch.

Or maybe she's sitting with him while he waits for his appointment with his therapist after a long, hard day. He squeezes her hand, trying to take deep breaths and ignore how much his leg is shaking. He wipes his face of the tears that escape with a bit of annoyance at his vulnerability in a public space. Sure, there's only a few other people in there with them, and they're all there for the same reason - to get help - but Stiles has always been good at bottling his emotions up. Why couldn't he do it now?

And especially during his panic attacks, when every muscle in his body feels like it's on fire and when his lungs can't grasp the air he's reaching for, he uses both of his hands to hold onto hers, so tightly that they shake. Sometimes he presses their hold against his chest or his forehead, needing to know that it's real, she's real, she's there with him.

Also, just imagine little Scott holding little Stiles' hand as they walk home from their elementary school after getting into another fight with the biggest bully in the second grade. Maybe boys aren't "supposed to" hold hands, like everyone says when they're eight years old and clueless. Stiles doesn't care, though, he knows he needs this (yes, he waited until they were in his neighborhood, away from any curious gazes).

The moral of the story is that sweet, sweet Stiles needs physical touch to survive. Everything becomes easier when he has a hand to hold, and this goes far beyond just crying.

Tags

teen wolf stiles stilinski dylan o'brien stiles x reader dylan o'brien fanfiction dylan o'brien imagine stiles stilinski imagine teen wolf stiles dylan obrien x reader stiles stilinski fanfiction teen wolf fluff stiles stilinski fluff stiles imagine stiles fanfiction stiles fluff stiles stilinski x reader stiles stilinski x reader fluff dylan o'brien fluff stiles stilinski x reader imagine stiles blurb stiles x reader fluff dylan o'brien x reader fluff dylan o brien stiles fic stiles stilinski fic dylan o'brien x reader imagine

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kowbelll

2 months ago

I'm about to go to bed, I can't take this heartache right now - I just can't.

stiles misses you

a/n: i have no excuse for this except i’m on my period and i love crying. this can be interpreted as the reader is dead or they broke up, whichever makes you cry more. xoxo 🫶🏻

stiles misses you.

he misses the sweet scent of your perfume when he walks past you and the lingering daze he’d be in from looking at you. he misses the saccharine smiles you’d give him and the playful ones you’d respond with when he winked at you in class. he misses the color of your hair and the way it shone in the sun like a beacon signaling home. he misses the sparkle in your eyes when you finally figure out something that’s been bugging you.

he misses the sound of your laughter, bright as bells and unapologetic, echoing through the halls and in his brain and how it was so much more intoxicating when he was the one who made you laugh. he misses your kind words, the gentleness in your tone and the way you can make anything sound sweet. he misses how you’d comfort him when he cried and whenever he had a bad day, rubbing soothing circles into his back and quiet murmurs of reassurance.

he misses the familiar sound of your voice, the way he hears it first out of every sound that goes through his adhd-riddled brain. he misses hearing your voice and knowing everything would be okay because you’re here and you’re safe and you’re all that matters to him.

he even misses the way that you fight. riding in silence in his jeep until you can’t take it anymore and yelling until you can’t breathe until you finally give in to one another and have it out the way you need to. whether it’s harsh or disappointing or all-consuming heartache, he misses all of the feelings you give him.

he misses your heartbeat. the steady sound of it pounding in his ears as his head lays across your chest and your fingers thread through his hair as you hum softly to him. he misses the constant calmness that comes with you being around when he’s alone, mind racing with anything and everything that won’t let him sleep at night.

he misses your clothes, the ones you’d leave around his house after sleepovers or just in case you ever needed an outfit replacement after some supernatural horror ruined yours. he misses the way they smell like you because the ones he has are beginning to fade and he’s afraid he’ll forget what that smell is. the smell of home.

he misses driving around beacon hills with you in the middle of the night when you’re stuck doing werewolf patrol, the silly games you’d play and the way you’d make up some outlandish rules to twist the odds in your favor.

he misses the way he always had someone on his side, how you would always believe him no matter what anyone said or did. you always held firm in your belief that stiles was right. he misses having someone to stick up for him about his ideas and having someone in his corner, rain or shine, right or wrong. he misses the feeling of togetherness, of being half of a whole.

stiles misses your stupid texts, the ones you’d send him while bored in class, not caring if you got caught and had your phone taken away. he misses the heart emoji you’d always put at the end of every one as a reminder that you loved him. he misses the texts in the middle of the night about questions neither of you can answer, whether philosophical or entirely improbable. he misses the way you’d text him good morning and how you’d always text him to make sure he got home okay.

he misses the hours-long phone calls talking about everything that was going on in your world, supernatural or not, good or bad. he misses being able to say whatever he wants to say without fear of judgement or apprehension. he misses the stretches of silence that come after you fall asleep on the phone together, your voice slurring as you fight sleep but you don’t want to hang up because you just want him. he misses knowing that you’re on the other end of the line, always waiting for him.

he misses you so bad that it chokes him, hot tears on his pillow as he looks at the picture of you two that he keeps on his nightstand. he misses you so bad he can’t breathe through the pained sobs that plague him every night, holding onto the pillow you used to use when you slept over, trying to cling to the memories that are starting to fade.

stiles misses you.

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teen wolf stiles stilinski dylan o'brien but in a good way stiles stilinski imagine stiles stilinski fanfiction stiles stilinski fluff stiles stilinski x reader stiles stilinski x reader fluff this is so beautifully written and tender BUT MY HEART HURTS you always get me i swear

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kowbelll

3 months ago

Cute

I'm a little late, but here's more of the twins, Stiles and Stuart Stilinski! And bis thanks to @darkintothedawn for the inspiration! I couldn't have done it without your phenomenal ideas!

Word Count: 965

She couldn’t remember falling asleep, nor how she ended up so perfectly snuggled between her two favorite boys. She did, however, know exactly who was who, just by feeling them breathe against her. Stuart was lying on his back, his arm bent so that his hand held the back of his neck, creating the perfect nook for her head to rest on his chest. Her arm was already wrapped around his waist when she instinctively pulled him closer. Stiles, being the more deliberate twin, was behind her, spooning her and keeping her in a tight embrace while his nose stayed buried in her hair.

When the three of them began dating, snuggling was sometimes more comparable to a cold war: no physical attacks, but verbal arguments and even threats about who should be where and what positions they should lay in. The poor girl had to be the mediator, begging them to compromise somewhere in the middle for her sake. They had been whipped since they first met her, so it’s no surprise that they listened, although somewhat begrudgingly.

At this point, they have nearly mastered the art of going with the flow or, in other words, letting her get comfortable first, and then sliding in on either side, always taking turns facing her. Many things are like this in their relationship since their circumstances are somewhat unusual.

As if on cue, they both lifted their heads to look at her and she looked between them in turn.

“There she is,” Stiles said with an adoring grin.

“It’s about time,” quipped Stuart.

The last time she was conscious, Stiles was driving them back to their house after their date at the zoo. Seeing her beam about each animal as they wandered through the park ignited more love in their hearts for her. There wasn’t a single thing she could do that wouldn’t make them ruminate on her excessive amounts of ‘cuteness’, as they say. Apparently, all of that walking and enthusing tuckered her out, because she was out like a light, slumped against Stuart’s shoulder in the backseat. She figured one of them must have carried her inside and upstairs.

“What time is it anyway?” she said before yawning.

Stuart glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Almost eight.” His fingers traced random patterns on her arm, still wrapped around his waist.

“Wow. I’ve been asleep this whole time?”

“Yeah, it’s very cute,” Stiles said, nuzzling into her hair blissfully.

“Again, with the ‘cute’ thing? Aren’t there any other words you can use to describe me?” As of recently, she’d been growing tired of their teasing insistence. ‘Cute’ was basically their new favorite word.

“Nope. You’re cute, it’s time to accept it,” Stiles stated simply.

“I’m not rejecting it!”

“Yes, you are. And it’s not very nice,” Stuart added.

She couldn’t believe they turned this onto her, yet again! The few times they actually work together are spent teasing her. Not when she asks them to stop bickering about nonsense, no, that would be too easy. They just have to throw a wrench in the works.

“What!? How am I not being nice?” she exclaimed.

“You know exactly how. Don’t try to act all innocent.” Stiles was too sly for anyone’s good.

“I’m not-”

“Oh, come on. We all know what you’re doing,” interjected Stuart. “You’re fishing for compliments! You know, your greed is gonna catch up with you eventually.” He wore a poker face that was convincing enough to make her face flush, turning rosy.

Stiles lifted his head and caught a glimpse her warm pout and chuckled, saying, “Oh, don’t do that, you know we’re just messing with you.”

“Whatever. I’m hungry.”

“So that’s why you’re so grumpy,” Stuart started, but stopped and furrowed his eyebrows when he felt her begin to release herself from their holds. “Wait, where are you going?” He and Stiles both tightened their grasps.

“To the kitchen. I’m hungry.” Her repeated words were blunt because, to her, it was obvious.

“Woah, wait a damn minute, you can’t leave yet!” Stiles said.

“Why not?” She narrowed her eyes at him, looking behind her.

“Because.”

“Because? That’s it?”

“Yes!” he asserted.

“What he means,” Stuart glared at his twin, “is that we... uh... really, really don’t want you to.” He wore a pained expression, knowing full well that his reasoning was probably only hurting their cause, and Stiles gave him the death stare right back.

She sighed, beginning to move again, and he knew this meant he only had one choice left. “Ok, ok, we’re sorry, we’re sorry... Please don’t get up. Seriously.” He paused to think, then continued, "Hey, how about you stay here, and someone brings food to you?”

The girl smiled slightly and began to relax into the bed again. “Alright. I can agree to that.”

Stiles’ face lit up. “Perfect! Stuart will go.”

Stuart’s eyes widened with rage. That scheming bastard! he thought, and he sat up with malintent radiating off of him, causing Stiles to practically duck, burying his face in her hair yet again. He huffed, knowing that he can’t beat his brother’s ass when their girlfriend is anywhere near him; he would not take that risk.

He took a couple of seconds to relax (for now, he’d get his revenge after she went home), then leaned down to press a sweet kiss to her forehead. “Anything for the cutest girl in the world.”

Seeing her soft smile almost made the trip downstairs worth it, but he knew tackling Stiles and throwing him down those same stairs later would cure him.

As soon as Stuart left the room, Stiles pulled her impossibly closer, relishing in the few moments of alone time.

“You know Stuart is going to kill you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

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kowbelll

3 months ago

Hi, friends! I hope everyone is doing well.

If I have time this week, I'd like to write some fluff for the twins (Stiles and Stuart) trope, but I don't have any ideas or inspiration. If anyone does, please let me know! I absolutely love hearing from you all! Thank you! 💜

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teen wolf stiles stilinski dylan o'brien dylan o'brien fanfiction dylan o'brien imagine stiles stilinski imagine stiles stilinski fanfiction stuart twombly stiles and stuart stiles and stuart twins stiles stilinski fluff the internship dylan o'brien fluff stuart twombly fluff stuart twombly imagine stuart twombly fanfiction

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kowbelll

3 months ago

Stiles Stilinski valentine’s day💌💐

✮⋆˙ Stiles would show up to your house and knock on the door before you’ve even woken up. He’s just too excited to spend this whole day that he’s planned. ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙ He’s come over with your favourite breakfast, drink and a bunch of flowers. His bag filled with all your gifts and cards. ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙ The day is a simple day but tailored to you. Your favourite lunch, he’s got it. Your favourite place, you’ll be there. Whether that be the arcade, aquarium or even a museum he is taking you and paying for the whole thing. ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙ Of course he brought you lego to do. A shared interest between you too. The lego flowers were made together. The star wars lego you bought him was built together too. ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙ The day ended in you and him cuddled up in bed watching some movie he let you choose. Eating and drinking your favourite food that he bought you.✮⋆˙

JJ Maybank and Spencer Reid coming soon…

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teen wolf stiles stilinski dylan o'brien stiles stilinski imagine stiles stilinski fanfiction stiles stilinski fluff stiles stilinski x reader AN ABSOLUTE DREAM LOVE THIS TO DEATH

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kowbelll

3 months ago

Effort for Love ❤️

Word count: 1,078

Happy Valentine's Day!

Stiles had it all planned out. It was going to be the best Valentine’s Day ever. It had to be; it was their first spent together as a couple. Some (Isaac) might say he was taking it too seriously, but he strongly disagreed. It was his duty to make his girlfriend feel as special and loved as possible.

With a big smile, he drove to the surprise destination, stubbornly refusing to answer all of her questions. She was radiating with excitement in the passenger seat – she had never had someone so dedicated to her happiness. It took all of her strength not to peek under the blanket in the backseat which was clearly hiding a menagerie of items for their date.

She was giddy, and seeing that on her face made Stiles giddy too. He did that. He was the one who was making her feel that way. And knowing that was the best feeling in the world.

“Can I at least get a hint or something? I need to mentally prepare!”

“Absolutely not. And don’t worry about mentally preparing, you’ll be very relaxed, I promise.” Stiles spoke with a calm yet adamant voice, though he couldn’t ignore his nerves. This was a big moment for him.

“Oh, I’ll be relaxed? Does this mean there’s a massage in my future?” she teased.

He smirked. “Maybe later if your gift is as good as I think it’s going to be.” He glanced at the neatly wrapped box sitting in her lap, filled with all of his favorite goodies and the new video game disk he’s had his eye on for his Xbox. She knows him better than he’d like to admit.

“Well, I guess we both just have to wait and find out then.”

“I guess so.”

The next ten or so minutes were peaceful, their chatting and laughter filled the air. That was until an unsettling screech made a bold interruption. Before they knew it, the Jeep was slowing down. Stiles instinctively pulled off the mostly empty highway. See, he took a route that he knew she wouldn’t recognize, one that most wouldn’t take on a holiday because it leads away from town and past all the popular scenic spots.

The poor guy was trying not to panic. He had just recently gotten major work done on the vehicle, so watching it break down yet again was beyond frustrating. He put it in park and stepped out with a huff, closing the door with a little bit more force than he meant to. Steam flowed from the front of the Jeep as he lifted the hood, making him cough a couple of times.

Seeing his anger and devastation as he cursed out his car was worrying for his girlfriend. She knew that he had spent over a week planning this, but she started to truly realize how much he truly wanted to do this for her as she, too, stepped out, making her way to his side.

“Stiles-”

He shook his head, looking at her with sincere remorse as he interjected. “No, look, I’m sorry. I know you were excited and this kind of ruins everything I had planned, but we could try again another day, you know? We could have another Valentine’s Day next week and just forget everything-”

She couldn’t believe what he was saying. Yes, he had always been hard on himself, but this was just ridiculous. “What? No. Stiles, I don’t care if it’s not perfect or not exactly how you planned, weren’t not just going to throw it all away. We still have time; we still have the whole evening.”

“Yeah, but we’re not going to make it to the beach in time for sunset and a tow truck could take hours, maybe all night!” he blurted, his frustration at the situation still growing.

Warmth filled her cheeks and a soft smile grew on her face. “You were taking me to the beach for the sunset?” she said delicately. Her heart had never felt so full.

“Yes,” he sighed. His hand then gestured toward the still steaming Jeep as he spoke, saying, “Yeah, I was… Until this stupid piece of-”

“You’re the most adorable, romantic, sweet, and loving man in the world.” Her words were filled with such sincerity that Stiles froze, his face turning to the same rosy red as hers.

“Wha-… Really? You’re not, like, mad or something?” For some incomprehensible reason, he was struggling to believe the situation at hand. How could she be so understanding? Why was she so calm? And smiling? What the hell was going on?

“Of course I’m not mad,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Why would I be mad when I have the world’s perfect boyfriend all to myself on Valentine’s Day?”

He was faltering, his hands barely making contact with her waist. “I’m not perfect…”

Her lips were firmly pressed against his instantly. “Shut up. Yes, you are.”

Stiles was floating, a nervous, blushing mess. How did he get so lucky?

After a little more convincing, Stiles agreed to go through with his plan on the side of the highway instead of the beach since they were still miles away. He made his girlfriend wait in the passenger seat with her eyes closed (he was very firm about that) while he moved the blanket from the backseat to the pavement and set up the red candles, red and pink flowers, sandwiches he made himself, and boxes of chocolates for dessert.

The scene in front of her when she opened her eyes was straight out of a romance movie. She was practically speechless as she moved towards the blanket to sit with her beau, both of them grinning uncontrollably. The evening turned out to be the most magical moment imaginable, beginning with a call with the towing company, of course. They spent the five-hour wait basking in the love they had for each other and the sunset that still made an appearance.

When it became too cold to sit outside any longer, they packed up and sat in the Jeep again, where Stiles opened his gift with glee. He nearly crushed her ribcage with the bear hug he gave her. And yes, it earned her a massage, of sorts, in the backseat.

Curled up against each other under the blanket, they exchanged handwritten love letters and read them out loud to each other, closing their very romantic date with a loving bang.

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kowbelll

3 months ago

How do you think stiles would react to finding out his gf was cheated on in the past?

He gets busy and forgets to let her know he’ll be late to their movie night and she immediately assumes the worst and he’s shocked to find her upset and self conscious and insecure when he finally makes it home.

I bet he would feel so bad even though he genuinely didn’t do anything. He would be absolutely flabbergasted that anyone would dare step out on her. He would probably even get genuinely angry at the idiot when she tells the full story.

Oh my gosh, this is so sad yet sweet at the same time!

Since he doesn't already know that she was cheated on, walking in to see her in tears and unable to keep eye contact with him would be beyond confusing and concerning for him. He'd rush over to her, immediately wanting to hold her and talk everything out, asking what was wrong, only to painfully watch her take a step back from him.

"Where were you, Stiles? Where the hell were you?" she'd sob out, keeping a cautious hand between them.

He'd be thrown off by the question, not expecting an interrogation and stuttering his words out. "I-I was just helping Scott with a lead after practice, that's it, I swear..."

"Call him." she'd order, trying to sound like she has a grip on the situation, but her insecurity is evident.

"What?"

"Call him!" At this point, she's desperate, needing certainty and concrete proof that he's telling the truth.

Stiles almost jumps, still so confused about why she's so upset. "Ok, ok, I'm calling him right now. See?" He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns it so she can see what he's doing. He calls Scott right away.

Without giving him any context or revealing her presence, Stiles asks him to tell him all about their previous whereabouts. Scott speaks casually and simply but is clearly lost on why he's doing this. However, she knows he's telling the truth because he's not really known for his lying abilities...

Stiles hangs up right after she gets her proof. "There. Do you believe me now? Or can you at least tell me what's wrong? I hate seeing you like this, you know I hate it when y-" He stops at the feeling of her body practically crashing into his as she clings to him tightly, letting a few more soft sobs out. His mind goes blank for a second before he gets his bearings and wraps his arms around her in a firm embrace. "Hey... It's ok. I got you. Just talk to me. What's going on?"

With a shaky voice, she tells him everything. Certain details are harder to get out than others, so at some point, Stiles leads them to the couch, still holding her close as she curls up against his chest.

Empathizing with people can be hard for Stiles sometimes, but never with his sweet angel. A menagerie of emotions swirls inside of him as he listens to her well - guilt, anger, disgust, sympathy, protectiveness, the list goes on and on.

He gently holds her face in his hands, looking straight into her eyes as he makes her a promise to never do anything horrible like that to her, to never show her any disrespect, to always be faithful to her, and to always let her know if he'll be running late from then on.

Still cradling her against him, they decide to watch something innocent and peaceful, and land on Bambi. Stiles will never admit it, but he teared up at the mother's death, squeezing her even tighter. Thankfully, she fell asleep before the movie ended

Thank you so much for your submission! I'm pretty sure I switched tenses halfway through, but I am far too tired to reread and edit this... My apologies, we'll all just have to deal with it. 💜

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teen wolf stiles stilinski dylan o'brien stiles x reader Teen Wolf Fanfiction dylan o'brien fanfiction dylan o'brien imagine stiles stilinski imagine dylan obrien x reader stiles stilinski fanfiction teen wolf fluff stiles stilinski fluff stiles imagine stiles fluff stiles stilinski x reader stiles stilinski x reader fluff dylan o'brien fluff stiles stilinski x reader imagine dylan o'brien x reader fluff

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kowbelll

4 months ago

Dairy Queen Dream

Word count: 1,030

I'm so sorry that this took me so long to write, but here it finally is! Big thanks to @sleepyminyard for the encouragement! I'm considering making a second part someday, but I'll let you guys decide. Also, if you've seen American Assassin, I used Victor's name and description (kinda) from that movie to help myself visualize better. My sincerest apologies for the slight angst, but I hope you enjoy!

Stiles walked into work with a sigh. He was officially an employee of Dairy Queen for a whole week, though it already felt like it had been a year. He thought working at a fast-food establishment would be easy; he was wrong. Training nearly killed him, thanks to that stupid ice cream machine. Maybe it was his clumsiness that made using it such a struggle, but he believed the thing had it out for him. If his Jeep wasn’t in grave shambles and didn’t require every penny he had, he might consider walking away and finding some other job. But alas, Dairy Queen was a necessary evil.

He supposed it was sort of fun sometimes. He enjoyed discreetly tossing a few bits of candy into his mouth now and then, and talking to the costumers in the drive-thru with the headset made him feel like he was receiving orders from his captain on a spaceship.

However, he already had six little burns on his poor fingers from the fry oil, and he accidentally exploded another blizzard yesterday – the fourth one thus far. The manager gave him a warning, but they both knew that Beacon Hills’ DQ was quite understaffed. They needed him, or someone like him. Stiles was the only applicant in many months.

Hearing the bell above the door chime, signaling that another customer was entering, he made his way over to the counter, not paying any attention to what was in front of him. “Welcome to Dairy Queen. What can I get for y-” Stiles froze as his eyes made contact with hers.

Just looking at her made his face flush, turning a deep red, and his hands suddenly felt clammy. He had never seen someone with such pure beauty. Every little detail pierced him as his gaze took her in. She was almost overwhelming.

Her smile at the awkward moment reeled him back in and he cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “Sorry, uh... How can I help you?”

As she gave him her order with that euphonious voice, he felt dizzy. And when the blizzard she asked for was the exact same as his favorite (since he was five years old), he almost felt out of breath. He couldn’t stop the grin that formed on his face. Stiles was smitten!

He could see it all, right then and there: the sparkling ring he’d put on her finger, the long white dress she’d wear, the quaint home they’d live in together, the fuzzy puppy they’d adopt. Everything would’ve been perfect. Until he watched painfully as a tall, well-built, Ryan Gosling lookalike wrapped an arm around her waist and began listing his order too.

A pit formed in Stiles’ stomach, making him nauseous. He knew nothing about the guy, yet he already hated him. He unknowingly blocked out everything he said, too busy with the jealousy that began to spark inside of him.

He rubbed his forehead, trying to get his bearings. “Um, what was that?”

An annoyed sigh left the ‘man’ before he recited his order again: the most disgusting concoction Stiles had ever heard. Yep, he definitely hated him.

Stiles stared at him from around the corner as he made his blizzard, s He was too consumed to notice his hands drifting away from the mixer, causing ice cream to splatter everywhere, including all over him. “Fuck, not again...” he muttered, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in frustration. The only bright side was that it wasn’t her blizzard that exploded.

That stupid guy had the nerve to look over and laugh, pointing a finger at poor Stiles. “Oh shit! Is it baby’s first day? Do you need a napkin?” he mocked, followed by more obnoxious laughter.

Holding back because he knew his manager was in his office, Stiles bit his lip. To his surprise, a voice did come through to defend him.

“Knock it off, Victor. He’s just trying to do his job.” The angel of a girl stepped in front of him and urged him to take a seat in one of the booths. She then looked back at Stiles and gave him a sweet, sympathetic smile, which he returned. “I’m really sorry about him.”

“It’s alright. I’d probably laugh too.”

“Maybe, but that wasn’t just a laugh...” She lowered her voice as she continued, embarrassed by her boyfriend’s actions, “That was an outburst.”

Stiles suddenly felt horrible for her. The look on her face showed that this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and the guilt she clearly felt wasn’t fair. Everything inside of him told him to hop over the counter and save her – run away with her, hug her close, and make her feel safe, loved, and appreciated. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, and Victor looked like he could knock him out with one good punch.

“Hey, really, it’s ok. Don’t feel bad on his behalf.”

Her smile partially returned. “Well, thank you. I’ll make sure he gives you a good tip.”

“Alright, I’m looking forward to it,” he said, chuckling.

With that, Stiles quickly wiped up what he could and made a new blizzard for the douchebag, this time without making a massive mess and a fool of himself. Once all of their order was together, he carried the trays to their table, making sure to flip both of the blizzards. He completely ignored Victor’s existence and focused on the beautiful smiling angel instead.

Walking away was harder than he thought it would be. In the short amount of time since he met her, he somehow grew attached to her. He couldn’t explain why or how, but he knew he felt something strong for her.

He decided that watching her enjoy a meal with that scum was too much for him to bear, so he went on his lunch break and got some fresh air outside. He hoped that he’d at least see her lovely face one more time before they left, but when he came back inside, they were gone, just a crumpled ten-dollar bill left in their place, and his heart cracked. Stiles had no idea if he’d ever see her again, but he certainly hoped so.

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