Characters: reader x Stiles
Word count: 1,940
Warning: smutty smut smut!
A/N Holy crap THANK YOU guys for over 300 followers, ya’ll are awesome! Here’s another Stiles smut because, again, I’m trash. Let ya girl know whatcya think! -Er
Stiles, your boyfriend of almost a year, rests his body on yours, pushing you gently against your locker. The kiss turns into a light make out session until Scott slams his locker door shut a few feet away, causing you to jump.
“We’re kinda busy here, if you didn’t notice,” Stiles complained, mumbling against your lips.
“Yeah, I did notice. I notice every morning when this happens actually,” Scott teased as he threw his backpack over one shoulder. “It’s like all you guys do lately is make out,” he scrunched his face.
“Have you seen my girl? It’s kind of hard to do anything else,” Stiles smirked, kissing your nose before turning to his best friend. “You’re just jealous,” he teased.
“Jealous of what? My relationship with Kira involves more than what you guys are doing,” Scott laughs, motioning towards the action that had unfortunately stopped.
“We do more than just make you,” you say as you playfully hit Scott in the arm.
“Yeah, the sex is pretty great too,” Stiles smirked, wrapping his arm around your lower waist. You pushed him away, rolling your eyes.
“We can stop whenever we want,” you explained confidently.
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Scott joked, patting Stiles on the shoulder before walking down the hall.
Stiles pulled you closer and placed a sweet kiss on your lips before you pulled away.
“We’re not actually stopping, right?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
“I mean, we could tone it down a bit,” you said, turning to open up your locker.
“Why would I want to do that?” he smiled, leaning against the metal door to your left.
“Just forget it, it’s not like you could restrain yourself anyways,” you teased, shoving an unbelievably large textbook in your locker, shutting his quietly right after.
“Are you insinuating that I have no self control?” Stiles asked, placing a hand over his chest, pretending to be offended.
“You said it, not me,” you winked, walking around him. He ran ahead and stopped you in your tracks.
“Hey, I have self control woman,” he exclaimed, wagging a finger in your face. “You’re the one who can’t keep her hands to herself,” he shot back.
“I bet I could go longer without kissing or making out than you could,” you bet, crossing your arms over your body. “In fact, I think I could go without sex longer than you too,” you boasted.
“Uh-uh, no way. I would totally dominate,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you.
“You wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants for more than a day tops, Stilinski,” you challenged.
“You’re on,” he held out his hand and you took it in yours, shaking it firmly.
“It’s a bet,” you agreed, “and I’m assuming you forgot we were supposed to meet in the locker room during lunch today to-uh, ya know,” you smirked, flicking your eyes down to his pants and back up. You placed a prolonged kiss to his lips before walking away. “Starting now!” you called over your shoulder.
“Yeah, whatever,” Stiles commented, giving Malia a cold shoulder to something she had said.
You just met up with your friends at your lunch table and sat down, opening up your bottle of water and taking a sip.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Stilinski?” Malia shot back, annoyed, “You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”
“Our friend has just been a little sexually frustrated since he and y/n stopped having sex,” Scott grinned, swinging an arm over Stiles’ shoulder.
You choked on your water when Scott said that., your face turning red after. “We didn’t stop having sex, we made a bet to see who could go longer without it,” you explained, “A bet that I’m going to win, by the way,” you smirked at Stiles.
“You just keep telling yourself that, baby,” Stiles said, starring at his lunch tray. It was so obvious this bet was killing him.
Later that night, you and Stiles were snuggled up on the couch in your living room, watching a Star Wars movie. You’ve watched all six with Stiles so many times, you couldn’t even keep track of what events happened in which movie.
You were laying against Stiles with your left arm draped across his waist, his left arm around your shoulder. Your leg was falling asleep and when you went to readjust your position, your elbow grazed over Stiles’ crotch, causing his body to tense up.
“Oops, sorry,” you smiled innocently. It really was an accident, but you didn’t see the harm in having a little fun.
“C-can we just watch the movie please,” Stiles stuttered, not taking his eyes off of the tv.
You couldn’t believe how stressed out he was over this stupid bet. You have both spent weeks away from each other between all of the holidays that came in the past ten months. He didn’t seem completely sex deprived when you got back together. Maybe it’s the fact that he can touch you, but not touch you that’s eating away at him. Not to say that you aren’t suffering as well; you totally are! You haven’t kissed your boyfriend in almost three weeks and you missed it. Not enough to forfeit the bet, of course. Being the competitive person that your are, you decided to try to make Stiles lose. It shouldn’t take that long, considering the condition he’s in. You delicately dragged the hand that was around his waist up to his chest and slowly dragging it down until it rested on his abdomen, just above the top of his grey sweatpants. The same sweatpants that he’s never wearing for longer than an hour before you’re ripping them off of him. Yeah, they make him look that good.
“Y/N,” Stiles said calmly.
“Hmm?” you pretended to be focused on the movie as you lightly traced circles against his shirt, making it ride up a little every so often.
“Whatcya doin’?” he asked, with an annoyed smile.
“Watching Star Wars? What’re you doing?” you asked, nonchalantly.
“I think you’re close to making yourself lose the bet,” he smirked his ‘i know i’m right’ smile.
“You couldn’t be more wrong, Stilinski, I’m as cool as a cucumber,” you explained, pulling away and sitting back against the couch, “I could keep at this for another month if I had to.”
“Y/N, you might as well just give up now because there is nothing you can do that would make me lose this bet,” he crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly.
Without any hesitation, you stood up from the couch and pulled your black v-neck over your head and tossed it to the side, revealing your lavender lace bra. Stiles’ jaw was practically on the floor. Before he could wrap his head around what you had done, you bent down and pulled your grey leggings down with you. Stiles racked his eyes up and down your body, focusing longer on your chest and the matching panties that you wore below.
“I’m pretty sure this is cheating,” he whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“It’s only cheating if you do something about it,” you smirked.
Stiles shot up from his spot on the couch and yanked his shirt over his head, starring you down as he did so. He hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his sweatpants, those goddamn sweatpants, and pushed them down, letting them pool at his ankles before kicking them to the side. You both stood there, in your underwear, starring at each other with straight faces, neither of you daring to look anywhere else.
“Oh, screw it,” Stiles whispered before lunging at you, grabbing onto your hips with his rough hands and slamming his lips into yours.
Thank god, you thought. Another second and you would’ve been the one to make the first move. You threw your arms around his neck and jumped up, knowing Stiles would catch you. He did and you wrapped your legs around his lower waist as he carried you down the hallway to your bedroom. Once there, he dropped you on your bed so suddenly that you let out a yelp. Stiles didn’t waste any time with hastily pulling your panties down your legs. He crawled back up on the bed and rested in an oh so familiar spot; between your legs. He hiked your right leg over his shoulder before attacking your clit with his tongue, earning a cry from you. Stiles often referred to you as his cheerleader because the louder you moaned and groaned, the faster and harder he was. You reached down and grasped a hand full of hair and tugged it hard, causing Stiles to moan in return. He slipped two digits inside of you and continued to swirl patterns around your bundle of nerves with his tongue. You’ve know it for awhile, but there were so many better things Stiles could do with his mouth besides making sarcastic, smartass comments.
“Stiles, oh my god,” you breathily screamed, your head falling back against bed.
In no time you were coming and your breathing became longer and deeper as you began to come down from your high. Without a word, Stiles placed his two fingers in his mouth, sucking all of your juices off because crawling past you and laying his head on a pillow. You took a second to catch your breath, but when you looked back at Stiles, you saw he had already removed his boxers. He pumped himself a few times before you felt the need to take over what he was doing. You firmly grasped his length in your hand, moving it up and down, running your thumb over the tip and spreading the precum that had formed. You sucked the tip for a second before dropping your head all the way down until his member was tapping the back of your throat. You bobbed your head up and down, hallowing out your cheeks to take more of him in.
“God, y/n,” Stiles groaned, tugging at your hair. You let out a moan that sent vibrations through Stiles, making him moan so much louder.
You were suddenly being pulled up on top of Stiles. He kissed your lips furiously before flipping you over and pressing his body against yours. He thrusted his hips against you a few times before you reached down to stroke his dick a handful of times, pun intended, and lined him up with your entrance. He immediately slammed into you.
“Stiles, fuck,” you shouted, when he didn’t give you a chance to adjust to him before thrusting in and out of you. You scrapped your nails down his body, leaving faint red marks behind. You placed opened mouth kisses up and down his neck and you jerked at his hair. About five more minutes passed and Stiles was coming inside of you with a low growl. He continued thrusting in and out, helping you ride out your high until you were coming for the second time tonight. Completely out of breath, Stiles pulled out and flopped down next to you on the bed. He wrapped both arms around you and pulled you close to him as he peppered your forehead with sweet kisses.
“Just for the record,” you breathed out, “I totally won.”
“Yeah, whatever, babe,” he smirked, rolling his eyes.
“Just admit it, Stilinski, I won and you lost,” you sang.
“Okay fine, you won,” he smiled sweetly, holding you tighter.
“Also for the record, we are never ever ever making a bet like that again,” he added.