Multifandom Smut

Scott McCall

You ever have that moment where you want someone just so damn bad, you swear you're about to have your heart beat out of your chest...or your pants are going to suddenly weigh you down from how soaked they are from your arousal?

Yeah...me too.

And if Scott licks his damn fingers one more time as he eats these nachos, I'm going to scream.

Like Lydia.

On steroids.

Now, you might be wondering, why not sleep with him? Or flirt? Or tell him to stop?

If I did that, he'd know I have a thing for him, so would Stiles, and Lord only knows that damn Stilinski won't let me live it down. So now here we are, in a diner, eating nachos, while I'm forced to suffer as he keeps licking each fucking finger like it's a damn Popsicle and I'm going insane with every flick of his tongue and trying to not moan or squirm in my seat as I sit next to said werewolf and across from the aforementioned Banshee and human.

"Y/N, you okay?" A voice interrupted my train of thought, causing my head to snap up and meet the gaze of the brown eyes that have been haunting my every thought.

"Hm? Oh yeah, no, yeah, I'm fine. I swear." I stuttered out, voice trying to keep its cool and not show how horny his unintentional actions were making me.

"You sure?" Stiles' voice cuts in, making me internally groan because of course, HE, would notice if that smirk was anything to go by.

"YES, I am sure." I reiterate, y/e/c eyes narrowing in annoyance at the hyperactive spaz.

"I'm going to go grab you another soda, your face is turning dark red, you might be overheating." Scott offered, already standing up from his seat and heading towards the counter before I could stop him.

This was not helping. It was bad enough that he was hot enough to melt steel in my opinion, but the fact that he was so kind and strong and protective didn't exactly help the whole- 'I'm falling in love with you and want to climb you like a damn tree' aspect of my confusing emotions. So instead, I choose to attempt to focus on my breathing, get my raging teenage hormones under control and just hope Stiles nor Lydia mentions anything out loud. My luck? That equals me getting the opposite of what I want.

"So...you still haven't told Scotty you have a thing for him, huh?" Stiles asked, smirking widely, or at least attempting to given the amount of hard chips he just shoved into his freckled face.

"Leave her alone, Stiles. It's not her fault that she's wetter than the ocean for him." Lydia pointed out with a shrug as if she was talking about the damn weather of all things. Seriously? What happened to that unspoken rule of girl code where you're not meant to throw your friends under the bus regarding sexual desires? Did she just magically decide that didn't exist anymore?

"I am not we-!" But before I could finish my sentence, I heard the faintest squeak of sneakers slipping on tile and suddenly, my entire body was drenched in a cold, sticky substance.

My y/h/c stuck to my face in thick lines, my black shirt clung to my chest and the entire front side of my jeans in my crotch area were soaked. Turns out, on his way back over with a soda for me, Scott managed to slip on the tile where there was a wet floor sign and succeeded in spilling the entire 20oz glass of soda down my entire front. How a werewolf trips that easily? I don't know. But what I do know is that Lydia's next words made my head slam so hard on the table, it made Stiles jump in surprise while Scott got the most worried puppy dog look on his face.

"This isn't what I meant by you being wet..."

By @/Roseringleader and @/skeletonangel1998 on Tumblr