CHERRY BOMB 🍒 STILES STILINSKI

what's your name?

Stiles is not exactly sure how he got here, in the woods behind the lacrosse field with some pretty, no-name girl on her back in the leaves and dirt, being just as loud as she wants because nobody will hear her over the cheering of a crowd in the 3rd quarter of a lacrosse game.

He seriously does not know what the fuck is going on, but he's not fucking questioning it.

One minute he was walking behind the bleachers to take a breather and the next thing he knew, some dark-haired girl had her hand down his maroon track pants, jerking him off while she whispered about how she always wanted to fuck a lacrosse player. Stiles just can't figure out why she's after him because when most girls say that they mean a lacrosse playing lacrosse player, not some bench warming loser who the coach doesn't even require to wear his official uniform to games because he would literally pick someone out of the bleachers to play before he put Stiles in the game. He has picked someone out of the bleachers.

Which Stiles is suddenly really okay with because it meant that when the mysterious, caramel-complexioned girl with the hypnotic green eyes starts pulling him towards the tree line, no one will even fucking notice he's gone. Except Scott, but fuck Scott in this particular moment, dude.

Stiles is breaking every safe sex guideline he's ever been taught, and it's awesome.

The girl is on her back, the pleated bottom of her peacoat and frilly skirt of her velvet dress rustling against Stiles' official team zip-up as he fucks into her with reckless abandon. He's having public sex with a complete stranger yards away from a lacrosse game that he's a part of, this is his first time having sex ever, and he's not even wearing a condom.

For some reason, Stiles expected to be wayyyy worse at this. Everybody always talks about how hard the first time is, and how they all busted two seconds in, and how they didn't know what they were doing and it was awkward, but if Stiles is going off the sounds this girl is making, he's one hundred percent sure that he's doing everything right. This sex shit is easy as pie.

Stiles hauls her legs up by the meat of her thighs, getting a hand underneath each knee so he can lean into them and really scoop out her guts with his dick.

The girl's pale green eyes burst wide, mouth dropping open like she wants to moan but she's too overwhelmed to actually make a noise. She just stares up at him with dilated eyes, huffing hot clouds of air into his face, expression going dumber and dumber until her slack lips turn up in an absent half-smile and she arches her back, digging her shiny black hair into the dirt and leaves.

"Oh fuuuuuuck," she whines breathlessly, her pussy gripping his dick over and over so hard it almost hurts. Stiles has to go still for a second because he thinks she's literally going to break his dick, but then her whole body goes lax, and he just starts drilling her. He waits until the very last second, until his head is swimming and he just barely overpowers the stutter of his hips that almost forces him in deeper when his orgasm hits. He pulls out cumming across the underside of her dress, and he can't resist pushing it up with one hand and grabbing his dick with the other so he can jerk off the last couple waves of his high to the sight of his cum splattered over the lining of her posh-looking dress, a little rope of it clinging to the outside of the crotch of her blue cotton panties where he almost didn't make it out in time.

The girl surges up, capturing his lips in a kiss that's almost filthier than the depraved forest sex they just had. When they finally break apart, the girl's got an awestruck look painted on her face, eyebrows raising hopefully as she pants, "What's your name?"