Honestly I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know if I can keep living like this, I mean it’s been 4 years already. 4 fucking years and I’m still having trouble with picking a bias in exo. What the heck man, why are they so perfect??!!?
My headcanons of Adrienette consist a lot of Marinette going “……” to Adrien’s face (bc whoa this guy looks kinda like someone she knows). And yeah Adrienette is my favorite pairing out of the whole messy love square UvU
These were drawn on 3x5″ flashcards. If you’re interested in commission on card this size, please see my commission page.
your hand on my ass?” Stiles’ eyes widen, trying to swallow down a small whine
as he looks around the club.
Derek tends to get a little…possessive over
him at times. Not in a romantic way- although Stiles desperately wishes-but in a back-off-this-is-my-human kind of
way. Apparently Stiles’ 18 year old
hormones, combined with his budding spark, means he’s now some kind of werewolf
cock tease. Kind of like a siren, but for
werewolves, Deaton had said, and wasn’t thatjust what Stiles had wanted to hear from his
slightly shifty neighbourhood vet.
Stiles Stilinski actually dogot a booty and apparently all the local
weres want a piece of it. It’s flattering, most of the time. Until it’s not.
Stiles can usually take care of himself, but he can’t go around carrying his
trusty bat with him all the time, and he’s still got a lot to learn about
protection spells before he can actually do one.
And so, enter Derek,
who, for some unknown, slightly painful to Stiles’ long suffering crush on him
and his eyebrows reason, is totally
cool with playing the part of Stiles’ pretend boyfriend when they go out.
(The fact that Derek even goes outwith Stiles at all is baffling in itself, but
hey, Stiles isn’t going to question a good thing. If Derek gets something out
of watching him get his groove on heain’t
gonna ask no questions.)
Usually, Derek just growls a lot when Stiles’
hormones, siren song, whatever, starts triggering overzealous reactions in
people, sometimes pulling him wonderfully close and scenting
him, just a little. (Stiles is super proud of himself for not whimpering during
these moments. He deserves medals, or, at the very least, milkshakes. The good cholesterol
killing kind he never lets his dad have.) Never though, never has Derek touched his ass.
Stiles isn’t too
sure how he feels about it. Should he back up into it? Is Derek trying to
initiatesomething? Shit, maybe he hit his head and
he’s dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time Stiles has dreamt about Derek
groping him in public. (Shut up, he has an exhibitionist kink okay? It’s
normal. Erica said so.)
“Shhh, Stiles, just
let it happen,” Derek…giggles?
Swinging around, Stiles’
eyes widen even further, a surprised laugh catching in his throat. “Are you…are
Derek never gets drunk. Ever.
“I don’t know,”
Derek frowns, eyebrows pulling down adorably. “What is drunk supposed to feel
like?” He looks up then, face completely earnest, and Stiles’ heart kind of
stops. Not even Scott manages to pull of that
puppy level of cute.
Stiles has caught
glimpses of Derek’s softer side before. He rarely lets people see it, but it’s
there, and Stiles wants nothing more than to find ways to coax it out of him
for the rest of his life.
(He’ll admit, he’s
in pretty deep.)
“It’s different for
everyone,” he finally manages to get out, licking his lips, unable to help it, breath
stuttering as he watches Derek track the movement. “How do you, uh, feel?”
actually pouts. Oh my god. “I like it
when I can touch you, makes me feel safe, and I’m not touching you. So I feel…unsafe.”
Derek’s frown deepens, like he’s a little confused by his own words, but then
he’s looking at Stiles in that way he
sometimes does when he’s struggling with something, like Stiles is the only
person in the whole world who understands him. It takes Stiles’ breath away
every time, that trust, and even now it takes him a few moments to recollect
himself, to focus on what Derek is saying.