VOID STILES X READER
Our Little Secret
please wright something ab void stiles pleaseeeeeeeeee
desc: Scott kidnaps and ties reader to a chair in order to lure an infatuated void Stiles out to him, but the plan backfires and the one who takes off the blindfold isn’t Scott. (gagging/binding, lust, etc.)
a/n: I know practically every void stiles work is a smut, but tried to do a little bit of something else, though this is def. open for a part two if you can imagine where that’d go ;)
She shifted her hands but found they were bound by rope. She tried to blink but found her eyes restrained by a blindfold. She tried to call out but found her mouth stuffed with cloth. It was dark and terrifying, like a black hole had sucked her up, and now there was nothing but empty silence and the cold chill of whatever room she was in. Her muffled cries were heard at last, the fabric being removed from her eyes only, and they narrowed under the bright white lights as she was met with a set of fiercely glowing red eyes.
“I know, I know, okay?!” Scott hushed her before she could even begin to protest, his eyes resuming their warm gold color. “I’ll ungag you if you promise not to bite, okay?” he joked, trying to warm the mood but clearly failing.
He sighed and fumbled nervously as he pulled the black cloth from the girl’s mouth. Her lips were chapped, bent into a permanent frown, her eyes tired, hair a messy halo around her face.
“What the hell Scott?!” she hissed.
“Shh,” he placed a finger to her pouted lips, “quiet, okay? I need you to be quiet.”
“What did you do to me?” she ignored him.
He bit at his lip, scratching at his head like he wasn’t sure what she was onto.
“I swear to god, McCall-”
“Fine, Fine!” he cut her off, “just don’t be mad.”
She glared daggers at him, her silence enough of a response.
“Okay, so uh, I may have slipped a little something in your drink earlier,” he clicked his tongue nervously.
“I’m sorry,” he filched when she snapped forward, her hands still bound to the wooden chair, luckily for him. “It was the only way I could get you to go through with the plan, alright?”
She was still wearing the navy strapped dress from earlier in the afternoon, the one she’d word when Scott had kindly offered her a big glass of iced water.
“What,” she inhaled sharply, “is the plan?”
“I-okay-w-I needed a way to lure him out here,” Scott cleared his throat and pushed back his dark hair.
“Who exactly are we talking about?” her voice lowered as she feared his next words.
His eyes narrowed guiltily, “you know…”
“No I don’t, asshole, so maybe you should grow a pair and tell m-”
Her breath was caught at once, her vision going hazy.
“He is not Stiles,” she growled, “what the hell were you thinking?”
“Don’t say that, (Y/N). He has to be in there somewhere, I-I know it,” Scott stuttered, “and you’re the only one he, you know, cares about.”
She felt her cheeks burn red, her brows furrowing, “he’s a creepy murderer in the shell of our best friend.”
“And that creepy murderer is weirdly intrigued with you and you know it,” he shrugged.
“So what? You think you can just kidnap me and expect him to actually show up?”
As if at once, a loud thud came from above the tiny and chilly room, and Scott’s eyes flashed at once, head snapping up, nostrils flaring, “he’s here.”
“Scott, don’t you d-” she tried, unable to stop the gag being shoved back in her mouth, or the sheet of black encompassing her vision.
She heard the footsteps of the werewolf as he bounded up whatever stairs led from the door, and it was silent, but for only the briefest of moments. She could hear the sound of her unsteady breath, feet clacking on the ground, and then suddenly, a large crash of noise. She could make out a cry of pain, a slash of claws, a series of clashes, and then a drop of a body to the floor. It all happened so fast, the clatter coming like a symphony of brief destruction before dissipating into nothingness. Then she heard them, the slow, drawn out footsteps on the floors above her, and she prayed to anyone who would listen that it was Scott who stood upstairs. But the sound, the careful and dangerous way they moved, were wrong. The way she heard each one creaking on the steps of the stairs as they descended into the room was wrong. And the absolute silence that accompanied their entrance into the room, was just wrong. She held her breath, unable to pause the shaking of her chest, or the tears that her blindfold held back. The wooden floorboards clacked softly as the person approached her, kneeling down in front of her when he was just inches away. And he, whoever it was, simply memorized her for excruciatingly long seconds, his minty breath fanning over her skin, cold fingers coming to brush her cheek. She flinched at his touch, catching a hum of quiet discontempt. Then his hands were at her blindfold, and she almost wished he wouldn’t pull it away because she was terrified of what she’d see.
Two dark eyes, blank, hollow, soulless. And those purple rings that circled under them. The pale skin of the demon who sat before her. The twitch of his lips when he saw her face. His thumbs hooked in her gag, pulling it from her mouth, eyes darting between her tear filled orbs and colorless lips.
“Stiles?” she tried softly.
He laughed quietly, “aw, close, but not quite.”
He brushed her nose lightly with his thumb, big grin emerging on his face when she shifted away.
“You shouldn’t be scared,” he sighed, pursing his lips. “I mean, they should, but, they don’t have quiet the effect you’ve drawn to me,” he hummed lowly.
“Leave me the hell alone,” she hissed.
“Ouch,” he snorted, raising his hands in defense, “she bites.”
She didn’t respond.
“Mmm, silent method, huh?” his empty eyes narrowed. “See, as much as I’d enjoy hearing you scream, I’d pick the binds if I only had the one choice.”
Her chair thrust forward as she pushed herself angrily at the boy, but clearly did nothing to come close to harming him.
“That’s cute,” his lips twitched. “You have a lot of fire in there,” he indicated at her heart, “I like it.”
Her eyes narrowed, her breathing heavy, “what did you do to Scott and the others?”
“I took care of them,” he shrugged, adding, when he saw her expression, “oh calm down, they’re not dead….yet.”
“So why are you here?” she demanded.
“Because here is where Scott used you as human bait, which was smart, until I kicked his ass,” Stiles stood, running his pale slender fingers through his messy chocolate hair.
“Why me?” she begged softly.
He turned on his heel, shadows cast over his cheekbones, “don’t pretend like you don’t know it, sweetheart.” He stepped back to her, brushing away the loose hair gently from her face, “I am completely infatuated with you.”
Her nails dug into her palms, teeth biting at the inside of her cheek as she stared into the void’s face, “well then stop it.”
“It comes too easy with you,” he ignored her, shifting upright, “especially with that idiot nagging in my chest,” he fidgeted at the dark tee that clung snugly to his chest.
“Wh-Stiles?!” she breathed.
Void grunted softly, his eyes closing, “believe me, he has the same thoughts I do about you, sweetheart. They’re just a little more…” his eyes opened, “PG.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that every thought of you eats away at me just like it used to with him,” he sighed, pacing around the poorly lit room. He smirked, full lips bent, “It also means I’d like to do lots of selfish, dirty, and impure things to you.”
Her heart raced, the strange stir in her gut unfamiliar and daunting.
“Let me out right now so that I can strangle you,” she growled.
“Kinky,” Stiles winked, “but I prefer you submissive.”
She tried not to focus on the sound of her blood rushing through her ears, “what are you going to do to me?”
She didn’t mean to, she wanted to seem brave, but anyone could’ve heard that fear in her whisper.
He sunk before her again, and though the usual sparkle in his eyes was still snuffed out, she sensed his empathy. “Look, I won’t hurt you,” he sighed, touching her cheek lightly with he fingertips. “I’ll gladly soak my hands with anyone’s blood but yours,” he tried to humor her.
She turned her face away, and his voice was aggressive when he snapped at her to look at him. He forced her jaw forward, caressing her flesh lightly, “don’t be scared.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, the crystal droplets trailing from her eyes, “I am.”
“Of me?” he breathed, “or of admitting what you want?”
She stopped breathing, her eyes glazing over, unable to see straight.
“I-I don’t-” she shook her head through a short sob, “I don’t know.”
“Shh,” he cooed, brushing the moisture from her face, “it’s okay.”
It was strange, to hear those words coming from him and actually feel eased, to loosen at the soothing remarks a monster whispered.
“I know what you want, (Y/N)” he said with yearning, voice hoarse. “And god, I want it too,” he pleaded. “But I also know you don’t see it yet, or you do but you can’t admit it.”
Her lower lip trembled as she stared into those black orbs.
“So I’ll be patient,” he shook his head, “because frankly, there’s something about you that makes every second worth it. And I’m just waiting for you to open your eyes one day and realize we’re not so different.”
“Aren’t we?” she asked quietly.
His throat rumbled, “so there’s no part of you that wonders…?” his eyes caught on her parted lips.
She gulped down the lump in her throat, “n-no.”
He gave a half smirk, “you can’t even convince yourself of what you’re saying.”
Her heart pounded obnoxiously, centimeters between her, the boy, and the strangely fitting sleep deprived rings that clung to his face.
“What if I told you that you could close your eyes, and that the next time you’d open them, I’d be gone?” he asked, placing his palm to the midnight blue dress that cut down her thighs, his gaze tantalizing, aroma overwhelming.
“You’d leave?” she said, “and nobody would-”
“Know?” he finished for her. “No, just you and I, just one little secret moment. One where you can either open those beautiful eyes and ache knowing you’re going to feel that regret forever, or one where you take what you want. How does that sound, sweetheart?”
She chewed at her lip, giving a little nod.
“Okay baby, close your eyes,” he hummed, hands wrapping around her to gain access to the rope that bound her.
His hands fumbled gently until she was free, and though she couldn’t see it, she could feel Stile’s thumbs rubbing gently against her raw flesh. He gently rested her hands back into her lap, his tongue flickering over his dried lips, “whenever you open them,” he promised.
“And you’ll be gone,” she breathed shakily.
“I’ll be gone.”
His last words were muffled as he felt a set of lips lock lightly to her mouth, and his response was instantaneous. Her hands flew up to his face and forced him to her mouth, releasing a moan into his skin as he pressed himself tightly against her body, his taste absolutely intoxicating, like cocaine to her lips. She dug her fingers through his hair, her breath heavy as he growled against her mouth and grinded her lightly to the rhythm of their kiss, his tongue relentlessly invading her mouth.
It was Stiles who pulled away, and she could feel the grin on his lips when he did. She nudged forward for more but he released her with a small shake of his head, knowing very well he’d given her just enough to have her hooked, and left her with just enough to keep her craving more. His thumb came to her lip, and he tugged gently down on it with a smile, “my little secret.”
And then her eyes opened, and he was gone, nothing but a ravenous longing left to signify he’d ever been there at all.