Asking To Feel JJ While He’s Soft And He’s Like: “wtf? But Yea.” And As Soon As You Touch Him

⋆˚࿔ PREGNANT!POGUE!READER MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗

rafe finding out

ward and rose finding out

house debate

rafe finding reader applying for a better job

first sonogram visit that rafe came too

baby tip jar

trust issues

first moment with baby

rafe asking reader to move in

welcome home party

rafe pampering reader after birth

reader is insecure about her postpartum body

©RAFESGREASYCURTAINBANGS ⋆˙⟡ est. 2025

watch your back — carl gallagher x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, drunk sex, body worship, vouyerism, masturbation, squirting, dirty talk, lip is a perv, all the characters in the fic are over the legal age of consent

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: one of the gallagher brothers is having their way with you, while one of the others can only stand by and wish it were them

✧.*

the neon lights of the alibi room flickered behind you as you stumbled down the dimly lit sidewalk, carl's arm draped over your shoulders for balance. laughter bubbled up from both of you as the alcohol in your systems worked its magic, making every step an adventure in itself. the night air was cool, a welcome relief from the warmth of the bar.

“did you see the look on kev's face when he dropped that tray?” carl slurred, his words tinged with amusement.

you stiffled your laughter, a giggle escaping your lips. “and how v nearly tackled him for it? classic.”

carl's grin widened as he gazed down at you, his eyes slightly glazed but filled with affection. “you're fucking amazing, you know that?” you leaned into him, playfully nudging his side. “only when i'm three shots and a cocktail in.”

as you reached the front door of the gallagher household, carl fumbled with the keys for a moment before finally managing to unlock it. the door swung open, revealing the familiar chaos of the home. you both stumbled inside, laughter echoing through the hallway.

“home sweet home,” carl declared, his arm still draped over your shoulders as he led you further into the house.

you both swayed slightly as you made your way to the kitchen, the room bathed in the soft glow of the overhead light. the scent of leftover takeout and a hint of spilled beer lingered in the air.

“can you get me a beer?” you slurred as you dropped down to the kitchen floor, legs spread in a manner you would have thought twice about if you were sober. carl shot you a smile, already two steps ahead of you as he waved the bottle that was already in his hand before throwing it at you. “you know me so well.”

he cackled at the way you nearly dropped the bottle, shaking his head. “dude, you're fucking wasted.” With a playful roll of your eyes, you managed to pop the cap off the beer and take a long swig, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “i'm living my best life right now.”

while your laughter grew louder, lip gallagher felt himself stirring from his sleep in the room upstairs, his curiosity piqued by the commotion. your whispers and laughter, though still playful, became a bit too raucous, the noise gradually seeping into lip's consciousness. he groaned, rubbing his eyes as he got up from the makeshift bed he'd crashed on earlier in the night. groggily, he shuffled into the kitchen, his disheveled appearance drawing no attention from you two. you hadn't even notice him there. he wanted to say something, but he froze in his tracks when he saw you with his brother.

“this is the last time i let you go out like this,” carl slurred, referring to what you were wearing. it was nothing too scandalous, but he knew he couldn't look away when your breasts were pushed up together, spilling out of your dress, the fabric outlining your ass and waist in the worst way possible. “had the nerve to beat up about 12 different guys tonight.””

your laughter bubbled up again as you playfully nudged carl, the flirtatious energy between you two palpable as you climbed into his lap, snaking your arms around his neck. “you really are my hero.” carl smirked, his fingers grazing the exposed skin of your thigh. “damn right.”

lip, still standing unnoticed in the doorway, a mixture of amusement and disbelief settling over him. the sight before him was unexpected, to say the least. he had no idea things had progressed this far between you and carl. he knew he needed to look away, but all he could do was stand there and watch. he watched the way your bare thighs hung out exposed, tits poking out from the side, your ass pressed against his brother's jeans. he swallowed his nervousness, ignoring the way his jeans tightened at the sight of you.

as the flirtatious banter and playful teasing continued to fill the air, the magnetic pull between you and carl seemed to intensify. his fingers gently traced the curve of your jaw, his touch sending shivers down your spine. you felt your breath hitch as his gaze locked onto yours, the world around you narrowing to focus solely on each other.

without a word, his lips descended towards yours, his movements slow and deliberate. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your heart pounding in your chest as your lips grew tantalizingly close. the soft warmth of his breath danced across your skin, and then, finally, his lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss.

the sensation was electric, a rush of warmth flooding your senses as your lips moved against his. the kiss started tenderly, as if testing the waters, but the desire between you both quickly overtook any hesitation. his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you in closer, and your arms wound around his neck, drawing him impossibly near.

his lips were soft yet demanding, a perfect balance between urgency and gentleness. each press of his mouth against yours sent waves of heat through your body, the chemistry between you igniting like a wildfire. your lips moved in sync, a rhythm born from unspoken longing and shared attraction.

carl's kiss deepened, his tongue gently seeking entrance, and you parted your lips with a soft sigh. the taste of him was intoxicating, the mingling of desire and the faintest hint of alcohol creating a heady concoction. your tongues danced together in a sensuous exploration, a dance that felt both familiar and new.

time seemed to slow as the kiss deepened further, the world outside the kitchen fading into obscurity. the room was filled with the sounds of heavy breaths and the wet, delicious sounds of your mouths moving against each other. every touch, every sensation, seemed to reverberate through your entire being.

your fingers traced the contours of his strong jaw, the heat of his skin searing into your memory. his grip on you tightened, his hand moving from your hair to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer as he began to lift your dress. the intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a combination of pent-up desire and the freedom that came with the intoxicating mix of alcohol and desire. lip was still watching from the sidelines—of course, he wasn't watching his brother. he was watching you, the tightness in his boxers waking him up fully.

“take it off, princess,” carl snarled into your mouth, slurring his words ever so slightly. “take the dress off for daddy.” lip mentally cursed himself as he watched, only able to beg the man above to bring this to a halt. he wished that you wouldn't comply, so that he could look away and retreat back to his room, but when he heard you giggle, he knew there was no going back.

you pulled the dress off your head, discarding it onto the floor, leaving you in nothing but a bra and thong. carl groaned at the sight of you, feeling the way his jeans only grew tighter and tighter, but he wasn't the only one losing his cool.

from the sidelines, lip whispered a quiet “fuck,” under his breath as he admired your curves, all of you. you were the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen, and he couldn't do much about it. the only thing he could do was quietly pull his pajama bottoms down, along with his boxers. he quietly hissed at the cool air caressing his bare cock, but he couldn't resist himself. he needed you to take care of his urges.

“all mine,” carl groaned as he pulled you in for another aggressive kiss. he groped your tits with a force that was bound to bruise you, exploring your mouth with his tongue. your bra came off in an instant, bare tits now free to hang right under his chin. he switched positions, with him now practically on top of you, but your back pressed to the kitchen drawers. “need you so fucking bad.”

lip watched you from an amazing angle, his spit-slicked hand stroking his cock in slow, agonizing motions. he watched you from the side, admiring the way moans passed your lips, tits bouncing with every move. he licked his lips, stiffling grunts as he jerked himself off.

carl's hands roamed your body, groping everything he could touch. he left a trail of kisses down your stomach before sliding your panties down with his teeth. “jesus fucking christ,” he practically moaned as he admired your pussy. “dripping all over the fucking floor.” his words only fueled lip's experience, and he was right, you were gonna stain the tiles with your slick. you whined as his hot breath fanned your core, lips leaving faint kisses along your inner thighs before his tongue began prodding your clit. “can't help it, daddy,” your fingers tugged at his blond locks, pulling him in closer with a groan of delight. “need you to fuck me so bad.”

lip sighed as your voice filled his ears, spoiling himself by massaging his balls and taunting thebslit of his dick. all he could think about was you—on your knees, helping him out with the same generosity carl was used to.

“you want daddy to fuck you, huh?” you nodded eagerly, pressing one of your bare feet to his crotch and he quickly began undoing his belt. “so needy you can't wait five minutes, huh princess?” you shook your head, desperate sounds leaving you as you pressed your bare back against the cold wall.

“so needy, daddy, need you right now,” you moaned in response. carl grinned, sliding his bottoms off with no hesitation before crawling back towards you, his lips inches away from yours. he positioned the head of his dick right on top of your entrance, but didn't push in, staying right where he was. “gonna let daddy tear your pussy up, huh?” you nodded, smiling right back at him with nothing but a playful glint in your eyes. “i'm gonna let daddy use my pussy and fill me up,” you both smiled before he pressed his lips to yours, engaging in another passionate kiss.

lip couldn't believe the filth that was coming out of your mouth. it had exposed him to a side of you he never knew existed. the same girl who used to sing liam to sleep, was now fueling his need to cum. his hair stuck to his forehead as he pumped his dick, watching the way your legs were spread, wet pussy shimmering with carl's dick placed on your clit. he couldn't wait to see and hear you get fucked.

“gonna ruin you,” carl groaned as he grabbed his shaft. it only took a second for him to bury himself into the depths of your pussy, all the way from his tip to his balls. you let out a cry of ecstasy, holding onto his shoulders for support. he was now seated on the floor, his back against the counter with you in his lap. “bounce on daddy's dick now, okay?”

you leaned back, moans passing your lips as you arched your back, now bouncing up and down on his cock. you shuddered as you did so, the angle setting off fireworks in your stomach. you sped up the pace, carl grunting as he tilted his hips upward, now meeting your bounces with thrusts. you locked your fingers in his hair, pulling him into your tits. he didn't hesitate to suck on them, marking the fat and biting your hardened nipples. you couldn't help but squeal at the overwhelming feeling of your pussy sucking him in.

“look at you, taking my dick so well,” he wasn't the only one looking at you. lip trembled as he continued to ferociously pump his cock, watching the way you kept bouncing. he watched the way your greedy cunt sucked up his brother's dick, the way your tits and ass bounced along with you, the wsy the counter shook from your brutal movements. he couldn't help himself—he would've given his liver to switch places with carl, for a chance to make you feel good. “you like the way daddy fucks you?”

you nodded feverishly, your bounces quickening in order to match his harsh thrusts. you spread your legs, giving your boyfriend and uninvited visitor a good look at the way your pussy took his dick—the way it disappeared inside you and came back for a split second, the way he was soaked in your juices. you began to whimper, a familiar sensation in your stomach forming. “i can't, i'm gonna cum,” you whined, holding onto carl's legs for support.

he had taken ahold of your hips, now thrusting inside you on his terms. he groaned loudly at the feeling of your pussy sucking him in, refusing to let go. “i'm gonna cum, too,” he announced, but he didn't stop. he didn't stop pounding into you, burying his thick cock until it was slamming into your cervix. he didn't stop until his brain went foggy and your cries were his only source of sense. “doing so good for me, baby, come on. cum on daddy's dick, baby. yeah,” he sputtered out words of encouragement until you were practically sobbing his name.

when you came, lip came, too. he stood in the doorway, his fist in the shape of a tight hole that was no match for you, draining the rest of the cum he had pent up inside him. he came with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, suppressing the sounds threatening to catch your attention. he milked his orgasm dry, getting every last drop that he had wasted on you. he came happily, knowing his last sight was a good one—with you drenching yourself in your own arousal.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MILO MANHEIM 💗💗🥳🥳🎂🍰

teehee

Minor Malfunctions

plot: Zed’s Z-Band decides to send him into an odd frenzy

pairing(s): Zed Necrodopolis x afab!cheerleader!reader

warning(s): 18+, SMUT SO SMUTTY, this might be shitty im sorry, doggy style, (slight) non-con, frenzy!Zed, sort of in heat style?, biting, sorta breeding????, public sex, p in v, no protection (WRAP IT PEOPLE), CHARACTERS ARE 18 AND ARE SENIORS

a/n: YALL IM SO TIRED OF THERE NOT BEING SMUT FOR ZED PLUS I NEEDED THIS TO BE OUT IN THE WORLD!

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this could not be happening to him. The loud beeping filled his ear drums as he stared at his watch. He accidentally had knocked a drink over onto his watch and somehow it had made it freak out. He was trying to go to school as fast as he could to see if Eliza could help in any way, slowly but surely his mind was starting to fuzz up and he was losing any sense of control.

the sound of cheers could be heard from the football field outside of Seabrook High, the familiar sound of his girlfriends voice louder than any of the other cheerleaders was ringing in his ears. And just like that any of the control he had built up was out the window. His body was overly hot and his mouth felt dry. But this was different from his usual zombie frenzies. He wasn’t thirsting for flesh, or any sort of human anything…well. That was a lie. His body was aching all over and he felt a sudden tightness in his black jeans. Was this frenzy…making him aroused?

he let out a low growl as he skulked onto the field, watching the cheer team disperse leaving his familiar love alone. The closer he got the more he could smell her, and the worse the heat felt surrounding him. The shorter girl heard the footsteps and spun around, making immediately eye contact with the zombie teen. Her bright smile would usually cause him to smile as well but with his frenzy in action he only gave a snarl.

“Zed! I thought you had gone home….hey, are you feeling okay,” her question seemed to go unheard as he reached her.

His arms shot out and grabbed ahold of her, yanking her into his chest roughy as he buried his face into her neck. For a few brief seconds he just smelt her, feeling his mouth started to salivate from her delicious scent. Every fiber of his being was crying out to taste her fully, to put her into his mouth.

“zed, you’re kind of scaring me right now,” she let out a whimper as Zed pressed against her more.

his mouth opened and latched onto her skin, listening to the sharp intake she took. She tasted so delicious, like a batch of cookies…if they had been outside cheerleading and had been spritzed with sweetpea perfume. He gave a groan as he started to leave open mouth kisses along her neck, listening to her let out shaky moans. She tried to push him away to fully look a him but he swatted her hands away and held her tight to his chest.

It was only a few minutes of him marking her up, took entranced by her taste but the brain fog cleared just enough for him to slide his hands up her uniform shirt, listening to her squeak as his cold fingers brushed along her soft skin. His fingers brushed along each of her ribs before grabbing ahold of her breasts, groaning as he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra at all. She flinched away a bit which caused him to let out an angry growl. He pulled his face back and, with the strength given to him by the frenzy, ripped her cheer top clean down the middle.

The girl went to complain but was knocked speechless as she was taken down to the ground. Her breath was gone but only for a second as Zed pulled her cheer skirt up her thighs to pool around her hips and then ripped both her underwear cover and her panties themselves off her body leaving her practically naked to him.

the panic began to set in as she realized they were out in the middle of a field at school. She had prayed to whatever was up there that no one would come out and catch her with her zombie boyfriend between her legs. Between her legs??? When did he get there? It didn’t matter now, as his hands were moving her legs up a bit to rest on her chest and his face was being buried into her pussy lips. A cry of pleasure and surprise erupted from her chest as her head flew back and hit the ground of the field. Her fingers gripped the grass roughly, trying to keep her grounded as slurping sounds came from the zombie teen. He was slurping her like she was his favorite drink and fuck did it make her even more aroused.

his tongue was poking and prodding at her entrance, carefully lapping up her slick and thrusting deep into the tight cavern. He could already feel his chin become soaked from her arousal, but he didn’t care. She tasted so good and he was fucking starving. He carefully moved to wrap his mouth around her clit and sucked carefully on it, letting his tongue roll figure eights onto the bundle of nerves which caused her whimpers to turn into high pitched moans.

she could already feel herself getting closer to the edge, her eyes crossing a bit as she prepared for the delicious feeling to finally crash over her. But it never came. She moved a bit to look at her boyfriend, to complain that she was almost there but was left speechless as he was pulling his pale hard on from the confines of his skinny jeans. She’d seen it before but each time still surprised her. How could he be that big?

With a swift push she was spun to her hands and knees, her ass being yanked back to him. The knowledge of their location had popped back into her brain and she turned her head to look at him again, “Zed, wait please what if someone-.”

a loud moan erupted from her throat again as Zed pushed into her entrance, her fingers wrapping up in the grass again as he gave no time to adjust as he fully sheathed himself inside her tight cunt. Her head fell forward a bit as she tried to relax herself but Zed had no intentions of letting her relax. He grabbed ahold of her hips in a bruising vice as he started to bring his hips back, only to slam right back into her. And he didn’t stop there. His pace he had set was unforgiving.

the sound of skin on skin was loud on the field, along with the cheerleaders cries of pleasure and shouts of the football captains name. Loud growls were emitting from the zombie teen himself, the need to fill her full of his cum was almost too much to bare. With a push, the cheerleaders face was pressed harshly into the grass and the new found angle had her squeezing tight around her sex crazed boyfriend. The feel of his cock bruising her cervix was started to build up that knot in stomach again and she was so ready for it.

she reached back for her boyfriend and slapped her hand against his arm, her loud sobs of carnal pleasure were fueling both his ego and his frenzy and he could feel himself twitch inside of her. The thought of finally being able to fill her made him let out a animalistic growl and his hips started to fuck even faster into her.

and thats all it took as the cheerleader let out a scream of his name, her cum splashing back against his raging cock sent the zombie himself to orbit. With a few final harsh thrusts he was burying himself deep into her and spilling his seed into her womb. And as her hand fell from his arm, it carefully brushed the z-band and somehow zapped it back to normal.

Zed went back and flopped onto the ground behind him, his chest heaving a bit as he tried to gather himself. And after a beat he shot up again and scrambled to his fucked out girlfriend, eyes wide with concern, “baby. Holy shit i’m so sorry.”

the girl gave a soft whine as she wad picked up and cradled in his arms, shivers running down her spine as she realized her boyfriend was normal again. She leaned into him and closed her eyes, relaxing a bit. “Fucking hell, Zed. What was that?”

He gave an awkward chuckle as he reached to her cheer bag that had been strewn away as he had attacked her earlier. He carefully pulled out the extra leggings she had and tugged them onto her as well as his jersey she also had stashed inside, “i accidentally spilt some juice on it earlier and it went on the fritz. But that frenzy…fuck i don’t know where it came from.”

she stood up on shaky legs following her boyfriend and gripped onto his arms, listening to him chuckle at her shakiness. “Well, whatever it was…it was kind of hot.”

Zed felt his body tense a bit at the his girlfriends new kink discovery and sighed, knowing damn well he’d have to pull it out more.

“you better pay to get me a new uniform, Necrodopolis,” she snapped as she picked up her shredded uniform.

it was worth it, right?

milo manheim.

Masterlist

Quietus

Wally Clark x OC

Summary: Wally never expected for fall for a living student- until the day he heard Ellie say his name. He found himself watching her more and more. Lingering in the music room as she played piano, looking for her in the halls, wishing he could talk to her. But no matter how much he liked her, he knew they would never meet. Unless…

Warnings: 18+ only, mentions of death/suicide of a loved one, emotional abuse, mentions of sex, SA, drugs, canon divergence, eventually maybe smut?

Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any character, setting or plot designed by the creators of School Spirits.

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NNE | TEN | ELEVEN | TWELVE | THIRTEEN | FOURTEEN | FIFTEEN

Why is he so sexy? I can’t handle thisss

Marshmallow Miles

summary: prompt fill. Wally needs to get the hell out of Split River. thankfully, he finds the perfect excuse and takes you along for the ride. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut lite. fluff. AU - everybody is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen. same 'verse as Cuddle Bug.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧁

Marshmallow Miles

Wally spent the last 40 years haunting the high school. Then spent the last few months within the town limits, adjusting to being a regular student while he got his second chance at life organized. Principal Hartman, Ms. Chung, and Mrs. Moretz—the guidance counselor—banded together to help the formerly-dead reacclimate, and part of that means they all need to graduate.

Except, obviously, Mr. Martin, who Sheriff Baxter's keeping a tight leash on. Or Janet, wherever the hell she is.

Point being, Wally and his friends are still tethered to the place they hate most in the world. Even if there is a light at the end of the tunnel this time, they don't get to enjoy it until they walk across the stage, diplomas in hand.

Which means Wally? Is feeling somewhat-very claustrophobic. Skin too tight, walls closing in, suffocated and nauseous at the thought of having to spend another goddamn second in the town that killed him.

It's as he's listening to you, hanging onto your every word like psalms, that the idea strikes. Light. Bulb. Wausau? Claire's stepdad's ski lodge? You don't say!

He knows your birthday's coming up (Simon made sure to stick post-it notes in every single one of Wally's text- and notebooks to remind him) and he's been fretting over what to do for weeks. But this? This is it! Not only will Wally be able to celebrate you the way you deserve, doing something you seem genuinely keen on, he'll be able to put Split River in the rearview for a whole week.

Is it a little selfish to use your birthday as an excuse to escape? Kind of, sort of, maybe. But he's desperate to find out if he can have a life beyond this. Beyond Split River High and Number 57 and tragedy and discombobulating rise-agains. And the only person he wants to find anything out with, well, is you.

It's two-birds-one-stone, honestly, and don't you always praise his efficiency? Hell yeah, you do. His biggest fan. Besides, he will dote on you, treat you right, make you feel like the center of the universe because you are. At least, you're the center of his, and that's why he has to do this. To prove there's a future with him that has more potential than cultivating small town syndrome.

You catch him grinning that dopey little grin he gets when he's thinking about surprising you, but Maddie distracts you before you can question it. Which gives Wally the rest of lunch to plot into his tater tots.

Thank you, Maddie. Best wingwoman ever.

‗•‗

The plan comes together seamlessly. Everyone pitches in to help bring Wally's vision to life. Claire gives him the keys to her stepdad's lodge. Maddie and Charley morally support Wally as he shops for warm clothes in your size that he can smuggle in his own luggage so you stay in the dark for as long as possible.

Nicole and Rhonda, the unlikeliest of best buds, drag him into The Body Shop and Victoria's Secret—"imagine a romantic bubble bath after skiing all day?" Nicole coos. "Imagine undressing her on a bearskin rug in front of a fire." Rhonda smirks around her new vape.

That's. Really. All the convincing Wally needs to make a dent in the allowance Rodney gives him.

Wally even swallows his pride, puts on his most charming smile, and asks Xavier for his truck. He knows the only reason Xavier agrees is because it's for you, but still, a win is a win. With a general, "hurt her and I'll rip your balls off," from your platonic soulmate, Wally joyfully departs. Tosses the keys in the air and catches them, his chest feeling lighter than it has in decades.

Everything is packed in the truck and ready to go the night before. He called you earlier to impart the vaguest of instructions as to what you should bring, proud of himself for not giving anything away too soon. Even when you asked in that silly-sweet voice, pouting on the screen like a princess, "Please? At least give me a hint!"

No. No hints.

Like a child on Christmas, Wally can barely sleep, he's so excited, but he manages a few hours. Dreams of the world beyond Split River as if he's setting off on some grand adventure and not just driving a 3.5 hour span of state highway.

Tomorrow, Wally will experience a first. Something that was so far out of reach there was no point entertaining it because all it led to was disappointment and regret. Instead there were years upon years of distractions. Mock Trials and obituaries and looking at his feet when he should've looked back.

Wally sometimes wonders if those missed opportunities weren't the yellow brick road that brought him to you. Everyone else walked through The Door with him, but there's no sign of Dawn who crossed over. If Mr. Martin didn't do what he did, Wally might've moved on, and you and he wouldn't exist...

His heart lurches in his chest.

No sense ruminating. You have him. He has you. That's all that matters now. And tomorrow, Wally will have his first real taste of freedom with the only person he wants to share that moment with.

It's going to be perfect.

‗•‗

Wally picks you up just after sunrise. You're grumpy and sleepwarm and, Jesus, Wally loves you. Pouting at him like he's both a menace and your savior. Arms up, lower lip jutted out, a sweet demand of carry me before you slump into his embrace and force him to take your weight. Which he does, easily, big grin on his face as he toddler-carries you to the passenger side of Xavier's truck.

He bundles you in, sets you up with the softest blanket Claire found at Target—Yuri and Ajay not doing their jobs as devil's advocate at all as the cart filled up with Claire's suggestions. Honestly, Wally doesn't care. Especially not after your eyes brighten as you run your fingers over it, wiggling happily in your seat.

"You cozy, babygirl?" He asks as soon as he's behind the wheel and the smile you give him makes him fucking melt.

"You got me a blanket." You state, tucking yourself in more securely; shoes off, feet up, elbow on the console so you can lean over it and kiss Wally's cheek. "Thank you."

Wally blushes, he can't help it, and shrugs as if it's nothing. "I got you a bunch of things, baby," he says as he starts the truck, "Just wait and see. You're gonna feel like a princess, I promise."

You slip your hand into his, fingers laced, and he rests them on your thigh as he drives. Down the street, turn left, continue to the intersection of Main and 4th. Right on 4th, all the way to the end and then left on Pine. Drive until the highway onramp. Now Leaving Split River, We'll Miss You!

Oh God... Wally's heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears. This feels bigger than his first step off school property. Bigger than feeling air in his lungs and a drum in his chest after being hollow for so long.

Somehow, and Wally doesn't know how, you manage to talk him through pulling over, crawling over the console to plant yourself in his lap. Hands cradling his jaw, you press your forehead against his and guide him away from the edge of a panic attack.

"—got you, Wally, I'm right here, you're okay, shh, you're okay..." The steady cadence of your voice sharpens as his breathing regulates. He's holding you like a lifeline, arms fastened around your waist, heaving great gulps of air as he trembles slightly.

"I'm sorry, baby," He gasps and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Nuh-uh, no apologies, Wally Clark," You say firmly. There's a lull before you chuckle, gentle and kind, "Hey, this was a lot better than the night you first stepped across the school boundary line, right?"

Fuck, that was a mess. However, Wally wasn't alone when that happened. Charley and Rhonda and Yuri, Mr. Martin and Ajay, Mina, they were all there too, equally as overwhelmed. Rhonda threw up on Quinn's shoes. Charley passed all the way out. Yuri and Ajay were fine, fuck them, but Mina just...screamed. And then laughed. Then cried. Then screamed some more, listening to the sound ricochet off the surrounding buildings in a way it wouldn't have days before The Door.

Wally snorts, "Yeah. Sure," and finally peeks up at you. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks that he realizes belatedly feel damp. Is he crying? Weak. But you aren't judging him, simply gazing at him like he hung the moon; you're perfect person, the man you love most, and Wally's chest swells. "We're out of Split River," Wally croaks.

You beam at him, "We're out of Split River."

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River.

‗•‗

After climbing out of the truck to holler into the ether. To chase each other around the Now Leaving sign. To grab you, spin you around and fall into the grass as you and he laugh and laugh and laugh, Wally finally gets the show back on the road.

Once again, he tucks you into your seat, takes your hand, checks his mirrors and then pulls back onto the highway, the town that raised him then witnessed his death becoming a speck in the background with every mile marker you and he pass.

He lifts your hand, grazes a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes on the road and his mind on you and everything he has planned for this trip. At the halfway point, he stops for gas, shadows you as you browse the aisles for exactly the right snacks. Fondly gazes after you the whole time as you make tough decisions: Nerds or Twizzlers? Cookies or chocolate? Wally, do I want a vanilla or butterscotch pudding with my Oreos? Because that's a normal combination, what?

He's absolutely no help at all, too busy mooning over you as you flutter between the fridge and the chest freezer, babbling about how integral to your mood it is to pick the right snack. To cover for the fact that he isn't paying attention, Wally grabs a bag of marshmallows off one of the shelves when you call him out for not listening.

"These." He says, holding the bag up and then glancing at the graham crackers and Hershey's displayed at eye-level. "Maybe these?"

"You wanna make s'mores in the truck?" You ask, dubious.

"No," Wally saves himself, "Just these," and he jiggles the bag of marshmallows. They're the jumbo kind; the kind he used to bet his cousin Dennis to eat five of in one bite or else he couldn't play Wally's Magnavox Odyssey.

You consider the marshmallows for a moment and then, with a decisive nod, "And hot chocolate."

"And hot chocolate," Wally agrees, following you around the shop to the coffee station.

Wally pays for everything, hip-butting you (carefully, no spills) out of the way when you try to pass the cashier your card. He takes the bag and the tray of hot chocolate and still holds the door open for you with his heel. No fucking way is his princess lifting a finger on her birthday-slash-Wally's-freedom trip.

For every mile, you dip a marshmallow in your hot chocolate—dipping Wally's as well and feeding him, giggling when he nips or sucks the gooey sugar from your fingertips. It's silly and sweet and Wally basks in every second of it. Every second of your off-key singing, your trivia answers, your arguments over which is better, Thunderbirds or Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.

"You know, I have been catching up on TV shows, right?" Wally laughs, "You can use better examples."

"What's wrong with puppets, Wally? Are you a pupaphobist?"

Wally barks a laugh, "That's not a thing!"

"It definitely is a thing," And you wield your phone, flashing Google as Exhibit A. "So? Are you? Just say it, you hate Jim Henson and everything he stood for."

And it's amazing. It's anything and everything and so much more than Wally could've ever hoped for. Even the quiet intervals when the sugar wears off and the early wakeup call catches up to you; your body curled up in your seat awkwardly just so you can angle yourself right to rest your head on the console and place Wally's hand in your hair.

Adorable little diva.

As you doze, Wally watches the scenery drift by, his lungs expanding more and more with every mile he puts between himself and Split River.

Eventually, he turns off the highway and onto the backroads without you noticing a thing. His fingers card through your hair, trace the shape of your jaw and cheek as he absorbs the softness of the moment and tucks it away behind his ribs. Safe and sound, to be pulled out and cherished when he's alone.

When he parks, he's reluctant to wake you. So, he doesn't. Not immediately. Rather, he spends a few minutes just resting himself, sinking down a little in the driver's seat. Then slants sideways, curls over and around you to kiss your ear, cheek, jaw.

He couldn't dim his smile if he tried, enamored when you protest at first, but then sigh, realize where you are and who you're with before groggily chuckling at Wally's antics.

"Surprise, baby girl," He whispers, letting you sit up so you can take in your surroundings.

The look on your face tells Wally he did a good job. The way you tackle him into the inside of his door and kiss him tells him he's going to have to start planning next year's surprise tomorrow, because, fuck yeah, this is exactly the reaction he's looking for.

Getting out of the truck and staring at Claire's stepdad's lodge; at the trees and the snow and the vast expanse of sky, it hits him again like a ton of bricks.

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River!

‗•‗

He doesn't wait to celebrate. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he reels you in, kisses you deep and hungry while you're only halfway out of your jacket. That's okay, he helps you get it the rest of the way off, along with everything else.

"Let me make you feel good, baby," He whispers against your skin, hands everywhere, his hips rolling into yours as he pins you to the wall beside the door. "Let me show you how much I love you..."

Wally kisses you deep, hungry, groaning into your mouth as he keeps grinding his hard cock against you, fuck, you get him going like nothing else. All you have to do is breathe in his direction and his pants tent.

Heat courses through him, curls tight in his belly and flushes outward to his limbs, God, he needs you. Now. Right fucking now, baby, come on. He carries you to the enormous kitchen island, peels your leggings and panties off and has his lips on you and tongue in you faster than you can cry out his name.

"So sweet, baby," He moans into your pussy, panting, not bothering to breathe in his greed for your taste and pleasure. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you."

He spears his tongue in and out of you before teasing little circles around your clit, his fingers plunging into you in place of his tongue. Wally could do this all day and never get tired; the sounds you make, the way you writhe and beg for him, Jesus, he can't imagine ever wanting anything else.

Cruel, desperate, he doesn't care what you call it, he stops right as you're about to come, shoves his sweatpants just below his balls and drags your hips off the counter to punch his cock into you. His head falls back as soon as he feels you around him, so tight and hot, "Fuck, yes, baby, so good for me."

And he sets a frenzied pace, unable to keep himself in check now that he has you like this. His fingers dig into your lovehandles, your legs hooked over his elbows. He's grunting, you're mewling your pleasure, and Wally about loses it before you do. But he doesn't. He's better than that, fucks you like a beast until you scream and shake and squirt around his cock.

It's game over after that. No way can he hold on, his body tensing, hips grinding, as he spills deep inside you. Carefully, he sits you more firmly on the counter and leans in to kiss you, soft, sated, a little blissdrunk in the afterglow. Bodies pressed together, slowly recovering, Wally strokes the arches of your cheeks with his thumbs and gives you a muzzy smile.

"You're my whole world, you know that?" He tells you and then captures your lips in a kiss that quickly turns heated, "I'll do anything for you, baby." Fuck, he's already getting worked up again, needs more of you, always needs more. "I'll die all over again if you asked me to."

"Wally..." You gasp when he rocks his hips forward, driving his cock back into you.

It's just after sundown before you and he finally check out what's beyond the open kitchen/living room space, the table and couch and ottoman and, shit, bearskin rug fully christened in sweat and come.

You and he jump on the beds with childlike glee, music blaring on speakers that cost more than Rodney's mortgage. Claire explicitly forbade Wally from using the master suite so, taking that into consideration, that's the first bedroom he fucks you in—from behind, driving his hips forward while he pulls you back against him. What? He'll do the necessary laundry.

If he remembers...

‗•‗

After a supper of haphazardly thrown together and grossly microwaved nachos, Wally snuggles you between his legs on one of the Adirondack chairs outside, under a thick blanket and dressed accordingly in the thermals and sweater and fuzzy socks he secretly bought and brought for you.

The fire pit blazes, the stars above twinkle, and the land around is a peaceful kind of dark. Not the ominous, suffocating dark Wally grew accustomed to in the confines of the school. The comfortable silence between you and him is accentuated by the crackle and pop of the fire, the scene so peaceful, Wally has to wonder if he ever experienced any such feeling before.

His arms tighten around you and he presses a kiss to your cheek from behind, watching the flames dance as you lance another marshmallow on your stick.

Tomorrow is your birthday and he intends to take you skiing. Or, when he knows you'll diplomatically decide to trade skis for slippers, he'll bring you back here at noon and spoil you rotten with presents and a homecooked meal; that bubble bath Nicole suggested (thank you, Nicole), and a long night on that bearskin rug (thank you Rhonda).

It's going to be an incredible week, he assures himself. And on Saturday, the others will arrive while he takes you into the resort town to explore so they can set up your big surprise party. Yuri will grill in a t-shirt, and Charley will force everyone to play 90s boardgames he died too soon to play, and Rhonda will make everyone take shots whenever Wally gives you heart eyes just to watch the messiness unfurl.

Claire will probably reprimand him for fucking in her parents' bedroom, but Wally doesn't care. Because it means he celebrated you right. That you and he had fun. That there's evidence of the fact that, for the first time in 40 years, holy fuck, Wally made it out of Split River!

fin.

🧁___________________________

also on AO3!

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if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Tongue Twister.

a PWP drabble highlighting Wally Clark's addiction to eating your pussy like a man possessed.

── jealous girl

paring stiles stilinski x fem!reader, word count 316, genre angst, ( masterlist )

jealousy. jealousy was the only thing that could explain how you felt right now in this moment.

the cheerleader uniform that you wore for tonight’s game seemed to be getting everyone else’s attention beside his, stiles.

he seemed to be too preoccupied with the new girl. she obviously had a big crush on him, but he was too clueless to notice.

you listened in on their conversation, as you separate with the rest of the cheerleaders to go to your locker.

he was leaned against his locker telling her some story. the same exact story he tells you about to help you go to sleep on restless nights. him and scott was practicing lacrosse and with stiles poor aim at the time he accidentally hit scott in his face leaving him with a black eye for a couple weeks.

she was laughing and touching his upper arm being a bit too comfortable with him for your liking. stiles was nervous after the touch on his arm his heartbeat picked up rapidly. you noticed that afterwards he continued to steal glances at you every five seconds.

poor girl was in denial believing she had a chance. once the bell rings signaling to go to class. you shut your locker and make your way through the crowd to meet him at his locker.

"baby, you ready?" you smiled, not even sparing a glance at the girl.

"yeah," his eyes lit up once he saw you. he shut his locker adjusting his backpack. "see you later." he waved at the girl, as he slipped his hand in yours intertwining your hands together walking off to first period.

it was sad really. the next day the girl was reported dead. apparently, she was attacked by some kind of animal that completely ripped her throat out and gutted her.

he was yours no one else in this world could have him.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2023

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.