you can maybe see my hand up der in the front

i had the weirdest dream so obviously i had to write a fic about it


They met at the park. It could have been a meet-cute, except Derek doesn’t do cute so it ended up just being weird.

Derek was taking Nora for a walk like he always does when she decided it would be a good idea to chase a squirrel and practically dragged him around, only stopping when another dog got in her way – probably chasing the squirrel too – and they started growling at each other.

“Hey, man. Control your dog, I’m not ready to be a grandpa!”

“My dog is a female.” Derek said, tried not to stare at the other guy’s hands as he struggled to hold his dog back.

“Well,” the other guy said, “how can you know under all – that.” He gestured towards Nora.

“She’s an Alaskan malamute.” Derek took a step back, dragging Nora away from asshole-guy and his dalmatian. “Much better than a dog that you don’t know if it’s white or black.”

The other guy stopped, looked between Derek and his dog. “How dare you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Leia is beautiful.

“Leia?” Derek asked, smirking. “What happened to creativity these days?”

“I’ll show you creativity.” The guy growled, much like Nora was doing, then took Derek’s hand, dragged him towards a bench and started to list all the reasons he named his dog after Princess Leia.

Nora and Leia ended up getting along fabulously, and as fate would have it, so did their owners.

“Unfair.” Stiles mumbles, watching as Derek heads to the bathroom. “I’m supposed to be going to work. Stop teasing me.”

Derek smirks over his shoulder. “Are you sure? I was going to ask you to join me in the shower.”

Gah.” Stiles says as his dick responds to Derek’s smile. “I hate you.”

Derek laughs. “I know.” He walks into the shower, moans purposefully loud when the hot water hits his body. Stiles yells at him to shut up and seconds later he’s joining Derek under the spray.

“You’re gonna kill me.” He leans in for a kiss, nips at Derek’s bottom lip as he runs his hands over Derek’s wet chest. “Fuck,” he moans when Derek presses him against the wall, rubs their dicks together, “you’re awful.”

Derek bites softly at Stiles’ pulse point, enjoys the moan it elicits from him. He’s always talking, moaning, yelling, seriously, Derek is the one who’s going to die here.

It’s been two months and they aren’t even close to getting tired from each other. It’s still hot, fun and - even more - exciting. Sometimes, in between fixing a car or two, Derek checks his phone, sends messages to Stiles, some of them explicit others just telling him about his day, the awful clients that destroy their cars and ask Derek to perform miracles. Other times, it’s Stiles that calls him, rambles about his dad and Leia, about his friends and what he ate that morning.

They haven’t talked about what they are – if they are something – but Stiles doesn’t seem in a hurry, so Derek isn’t going to force him, as much as he wants to.

Really, Derek’s got it so bad even his boss noticed and he’s seventy.

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dylanlovesthemets  asked:

“You look pretty hot in plaid" this could go both ways w sterek i think, like derek complimenting stiles on his daily outfits or stiles seeing derek in plaid for the first time

@dylanlovesthemets i almost listened but it kind of got away from me :D 

“Move, Scott,” Derek grumbles, irritated and tired and protective.

Stiles is limp in Derek’s arms after being struck by the monster of the week. Scott had once again failed to account for Stiles’ fragility and left him without so much as a bat to defend himself.

Derek had seen it happen, seen the big scaly tail knock Stiles off his feet and into a tree. And he’s done what he could to hear if Stiles was hurt worse than a concussion and so far hasn’t been able to hear anything out of the ordinary. Heartbeat still in a normal rhythm, no bones creaking or scraping against each other as Derek rolled Stiles onto his back to check him over.

He’s got Stiles bridal style in his arms and is walking back to the cars now that the thing has been taken care of. But Scott is hovering.

“We should take him to see Deaton, or at least have my mom look at him,” Scott is saying, still trailing behind Derek, gripping at Derek’s shoulder and Derek bites back a growl of irritation. He just doesn’t want anyone in his space right now.

“I’m taking him to my apartment. His dad is working tomorrow and through the weekend and Stiles is going to need someone to wake him up every couple hours if he does have a concussion. A test which I am well equipped to do, Scott, since I am an EMT,” Derek impatiently explains as they come up to the cars all parked together in a clearing.

“I know, I know,” Scott is quick to answer but he’s still hesitant. Derek knows they trust each other but apparently that trust doesn’t extend to trusting Derek with Stiles.

Once Stiles is laid comfortably, but still unconscious in the back of Derek’s Toyota he turns to face Scott’s worried face.

“He’s going to be fine and if he’s not, you’re the first person I call,” Derek says and it’s true. If Stiles wakes up in more pain than a concussion warrants or he stops breathing or something, Scott would be the first person Derek would contact…along with Melissa and John in the group text.

But the reassurance is enough for Scott who nods and steps away. Derek talks quickly to Isaac, Erica and Boyd, making sure they’re all still in one piece after the small tussle in the woods. But they’re fine and he gets an eye roll from Erica so they’re really okay if they’re able to sass their alpha at 3am.

Now he just has to get Stiles back to his apartment and make sure he wakes up in a reasonable amount of time.

Derek is pacing slowly in the apartment. He’s not overly anxious, Stiles has been awake since they got in and confirmed only a headache before swallowing some advil and going back to sleep. Derek is still concerned there might be other aches and pains that Stiles is waving off that should be addressed.

For now, he’s on concussion watch though so he’s trying to keep himself awake for the next hour until it’s time to wake Stiles again. He’d sleep himself but the couch isn’t appealing tonight and he knows when he falls asleep it’s going to be hellish to drag himself out of it. He’d rather get another check in with Stiles before he loses consciousness for the next few hours.

The pacing is to keep his mind focused on something, one foot in front of the other, eight steps, turn, eight again. He can hear Stiles’ steady, shallow, sleeping breathing as he does and he thinks he’s pretty calm despite the circumstances. He’s more surprised that he’s surprised than actually startled when the door opens and Stiles is standing there, leaning against the door jam. His eyes are droopy but Derek can still hear his heart beating exactly how it’s supposed to.

“You look pretty hot in plaid,” Stiles says, his clear voice showing that despite his sleepy expression, he’s completely alert.

Derek looks down at his pajama pants before looking up at Stiles with a soft smile.

“You’ve said that before,” Derek replies, tracing his own steps as he walks over towards where Stiles is wavering on his feet now that he’s no longer leaning against the door frame.

He settles his hands on Stiles’ warm waist and relishes the small smile he gets at the welcome touch.

“It’s worth repeating,” Stiles says and tilts his head back, Derek is all too happy to oblige and press a quick dry kiss on his lips.

This thing between them is new, not so new that Derek questions the kiss but it is still something they’ve kept just between them. And it’s something they haven’t taken much further than kissing. Derek had been set and ready to tell Stiles he needed to wait before things got physical in their relationship. But Stiles had been the one who put limits on things.

The pack doesn’t know. And Scott doesn’t know. But the Sheriff knows and that’s enough for them right now. It’s why Derek was so determined to get Stiles to his apartment. The sheriff really will be at work for the better part of the next few days and they both would want someone with Stiles while he’s concussed. The fact that Derek has his EMT license now only furthered the Sheriff’s approval of him dating his son. He’s been doing more to get his life together, to be a contributing member of society.

“How are you feeling,” Derek asks quietly and pushes Stiles’ hair off his face gently.

“Like I got my head smashed into the ground,” he murmurs as his eyes close again and he leans into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” he says into Derek’s chest and Derek brings his arms up to rub Stiles’ back comfortingly.

“Of course,” Derek says gently and starts to walk them back into the bedroom.

“Don’t know if I’ve said this but, I feel safe here. With you. Your space. You make me feel safe, Der,” Stiles says softly and Derek tries to keep from letting the excitement those words incited from leaking out.

“I-“ Derek clears the emotion from his throat, “I’m really happy to hear that Stiles. How are you doing for painkillers? Do you need me to get more advil? More pain drain?” Derek offers but Stiles shakes his head.

“No, just you. Come lay down with me?” he requests as he crawls into the bed with Derek holding the covers up for him to settle beneath them.

Those sleepy eyes, the soft fluffy hair and the circumstances have Derek capitulating without much resistance.

“Let me just grab you some water and I’ll be right back,” Derek explains as he tucks the covers around Stiles.

Stiles nods into his pillow and Derek dashes quickly back to the outer rooms. He checks the door again, fills up a large glass with water and snags the bottle of Advil – just in case. He makes quick work of putting both down on the nightstand next to Stiles. He crosses to the other side of the queen size bed and gently lifts the covers, stealing beneath and wrapping Stiles close in his arms.

After a few minutes of slow steady breathing Stiles snuffles into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks, Der,” he mumbles and Derek’s arms squeeze gently in a closer embrace.

“Anytime,” he says and is completely unsurprised that he means it. That he means something more, something they haven’t said to each other yet. But, Derek thinks, maybe they say it in other ways.

And suddenly there were 400

Seriously though, it was like three days ago tops when I announced 300. I swear you’re just trying to squeeze celebratory fics out of me … 

“You’re so fucking stubborn!” Stiles shouts in exasperation, running his hands through already messy hair. They had been at it for at least twenty minutes now, arguing because Derek didn’t want to go to Lydia’s engagement party. He didn’t want to, knowing Lydia would be inviting everyone and their mother who had anything to do with her and Parrish. It would be too many people, too much noise and he simply didn’t want to if she was going to hold a pack-only version the week after. Stiles said he should go out of duty as her Alpha. 

“No, you just won’t let it go,” Derek growls, fists clenched in his lap so his claws don’t rip up the couch again. Although, last time, it was under much more fun circumstances.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to argue. It ranged from small skirmishes that end in mumbled apologies to bigger blow outs that ended in mutually satisfying hate sex that Stiles seemed to enjoy enough to start shit for (and Derek plays along because he loves his boyfriend and absolutely not because he likes it, too). The fights could rarely be called fights because it just was never really that heated.

Derek’s nose wanted to shrivel up and die with the anger Stiles’ scent was boiling in and his wolf howled with such an unhappy mate. Even as his human mind wanted to throw something at a wall with how angry he was, his wolf prowled in distress and he wasn’t sure if that was annoying or reassuring.

“News flash, buddy, you can’t be a hermit,” Stiles spits and Derek growl increases in volume in response. He may grumble about ‘big guy’ and snap his teeth as Stiles giggles about ‘sourwolf’, but he absolutely despised ‘buddy’. It only ever came out when Stiles was pissed and his sarcasm grew teeth that he intended to shred whoever his opponent was.

“I’m not a hermit, I go out. We go out,” Derek snaps back, eyes tracking as Stiles paces in front of where he sits on the couch. The line of his shoulders is stiff and the soft skin of his cheeks is blotched red.

“Yes, thank you, you’re dating me, but that doesn’t count as social interaction.”

“Why not?”

“Because! You need more people in your life besides me and the pack! You can’t have just me forever!” Stiles shouts, throwing his arms up obviously trying to dispel the anger that seems to build in his joints when he gets worked up. Derek just scoffs as he gets up and retreats to their kitchen.

He stops right there, even as Stiles continues his angry rant in the other room behind him. He pauses in the middle of their kitchen with the backsplash Stiles chose after weeks of debating it over and the cabinets Derek bled over while he installed them (staple guns were dangerous, damnit). Down the hall was a movie room that Stiles insisted on because pack movie nights were always going to be a thing. Upstairs and to the left was the master bedroom where their scents were so soaked into the very frame work, there was no way to tear apart Derek’s from Stiles’. This was their home, their pack, their life.

Derek turned around, eyes wide but unflinching as he walked back to where Stiles was still ranting and pacing. He’s still seething, and Derek can relate. He still wants to throw Stiles onto the couch and pin him there in full shift for a week until Lydia’s party has past. Instead he stops a few feet away and opens his mouth.

“Marry me.” Stiles stumbles where he’s wearing a divot into the carpet, dropping off mid-sentence to turn his head and stare open mouthed.

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My Boss’ Son

So I uh…wrote fic. This is the first thing I’ve finished in a while. Just a quick thing I wrote while at work. It’s unbeta’d with no reread because I didn’t want to give myself a chance to hate it.


Stiles liked his boss. He knew a lot of people didn’t like theirs, and he knew he was lucky. Talia Hale was beautiful, and could be pretty tough if you didn’t do your job, but Stiles loved what he did too.

Network administration wasn’t for everyone, but Stiles saw doing it for a rapidly growing business as a challenge. The pay was nothing to sneeze at either. At this rate, his student loans would be paid off in half the time, and Talia always listened if Stiles needed something. Especially new equipment.

The only problem with Talia was that she kept trying to set him up with her son.

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Sterek A-Z Challenge: one word prompts

Week 23: W - Worry

When Stiles came home from his afternoon developmental psychopathology class, Lydia Martin was sitting in his apartment rhythmically drumming her perfectly manicured nails against the armrest of his favourite armchair. Stiles sidled into the apartment and slide the loft door closed behind him. The lock clunked into place. Shrugging out of his purple hoodie, he dropped it and his Batman messenger bag beside the door.

“Hey, Lydia,” Stiles greeted cautiously and glanced around the apartment. His boyfriend’s sneakers and leather jacket were missing. “Where’s Derek?”

“Picking up dinner from the cute little bistro on the corner.” Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Your bottle of ketchup and a jar of pickles was… unacceptable.” She stopped drumming her fingers to inspect her nails. “He should be back any minute.”

“Right… but it’s Tuesday,” Stiles said as he inched into the main living area and hovered awkwardly beside the couch, afraid to sit down.

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Stiles gave a short painful laugh and rubbed the back of his head, which knocked askew the beanie he’d forgotten he’d been wearing. “It’s date night.”

“Date night,” Lydia repeated. Her eyebrow crept higher.

“Yeah, you know, dinner, movie, walk in the park, and all that jazz,” Stiles said. He scratched his cheek and shifted from one foot to the other, unable to meet Lydia’s judgy glare.

“On a Tuesday?” Lydia said.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. “Yes?”

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The Godfather-(Derek Hale)

Originally posted by dylan-robrien

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Derek Hale and (Y/N)

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Word Count: 1950

Warnings: swearing

Summary: (Y/N) and Derek meet again after 6 years of being apart

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All night

Originally posted by songsoftheheartless

Warnings: SMUTTTTTTTT, oral (both receiving), Alpha kink. 

pairing: Derek Hale x reader
A/N: This is my first smut so if I got a few things wrong I’m sorry. So… just dont be harsh please :)  

“I’m off to a pack meeting Y/N!” Derek shouted throughout the loft. “Have no fun without me pup”

“Hey, I used to be an alpha you know”

“Emphases on the term ‘used to’” He scowled,

“You love me really though Der”

“That’s true”.

 It’s been 20 minutes since Derek left. I have been getting a few ideas for what to do when Derek comes back. Then it hit me, this caused me smirk to myself.

“What are you smirking about shithead?”

“Shut up and listen, I need you to piss off for the night you piece of burned toast.”

“Why do I have to leave this is my loft too y’know?”

“Well unless you want to listen to your nephews moans all night I suggest you leave”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve heard you guys go at it” Peter scoffed.

“Listen hear toastie, you might be 4 times my age and supernatural but I can still beat your ass if it’s necessary”

“And how will you do that?” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I will grab you by your unnecessarily long V-neck and choke you with it”

“Well use protection; we don’t want me being a grand uncle now do we, I’m already a terrible uncle”

“That’s for sure”.

“Princess, I’m home”. He threw his keys into the key bowl we left by the door and walked in further. As he got to the bottom step from the door. I covered his eyes with my hands. “You’re being arrested for being too sexy in that leather jacket” He chuckled. “Anything you say or do will be held against you in the court of law. And by court of law I mean our bedroom”. I nibbled at his earlobe and heard a growl from his throat. I could already see the tent forming in his pants. I lead him to the bedroom and sat him on the chair I specifically put there and straddled him. He opened his eyes to see me in front of him. He smirked.

 My lips attached to his hungrily, his hands began to slide up my thighs. I broke the kiss and held onto his hands that rested on my thighs. “Tut tut tut you can’t go any further than that babe”, “oh come on princess.” He huffed as I shook my head.

 I started to kiss along his jaw line, he tugged at the hem of my shirt I lifted up my arms as he took of my top and I repeated the same on him. I cupped his face and kissed him passionately. He licked my bottom lip for access, which I happily granted. Once we got to this stage I knew Derek had to have his hands on my ass. His hands gripped my ass roughly causing me to gasp. “Wanna take this to the room?” he whispered. I bit my bottom lip in response.

 I wrapped my legs around his waist and he walked into his room. He threw me onto the bed. He hovered over me and started to leave wet kisses down my neck to the valley of my breasts. “The clasp is in the front” I gasped. “Classy” he said between kisses, I giggled.

 I took my bra off while Derek unzipped my jeans and left me in my black lace thong. He started to kiss my stomach and leave a trail from my belly button down to the waistband of my underwear.  He kissed my inner thighs. “Stop being a tease Der”

“This is my revenge for earlier princess”. He rips my underwear off my body. “I literally just bought those yesterday and they were for you”. “Maybe you shouldn’t wear any” he looked at me through those gorgeous lashes. He kissed along my inner thighs, without warning, he flicked my clit with his wet tongue and cause me to moan. My finger automatically tangled with his hair. He started to suck on my clit and brought me closer and closer to the edge.

“Der… I’m gonna…”


 And with that hum the vibrations sent me over the edge, I arched my back in pleasure. Derek started to suck purple bruises on my hips and moved up to my boobs and took the right nipple into his mouth and massaging the other breast then swapping giving the left breast the same attention. As he made his way back up leaving hickeys on the way his lips finally reconnected with mine. I took all my strength to flip him over so that I would be on top, I started to do the same thing to him as he did to me. Kissing down to the waistband of his boxer. I pulled down his boxers letting his erection free.

 I licked the prominent vein along the shaft causing Derek to growl which made me smirk as I kissed his tip. “Fuck Y/N” he growled. I took as much as I could into my mouth and massaged his balls with my hand. “Fuck you’re so good at this!”.i hollowed my cheeks and bobbed my head to get as much as I could, his hands gripped my hair and started tugging on it. I hummed and felt his member twitch in my mouth.

“I’m close Princess”. I hummed again and his member twitched in my mouth releasing his load into my throat as I swallowed.

 I hovered over him kissing his jaw line. “Don’t be fool and wrap your tool babe” I whispered in to his ear and licked the shell of his ear while he put on the condom. Derek flipped us back over and whispered “Who am I?” while teasing me with his dick at my entrance. My breath hitched, “ You’re the Alpha” I gasped.


 I yelped when he thrusted into me. It started slow and passionate then he picked up the speed and became fast and rough. That’s the  way I liked, scrap that that’s the way I loved it.  He buried his head in my neck and started to suck more purple marks that for sure will not fade for weeks. “I’m close…alpha”, “Me too princess”. I take about 5 more thrusts until the knot in my stomach exploded. I screamed his name and the sound of his name leaving my lips Derek came into the condom.

 He flopped onto the bed beside me and started to kiss my shoulder. He wrapped his muscular hand around my waist and pulled me close so my back was against his chest. I turned my head to see the sunlight starting to dance through the window. I turned around so that our chests were against each other’s.

“Good morning Der”    

cathyminnix  asked:

Ugh, too hard to choose just one, but Number 18 and Sterek, please?

18. “This is… exactly what it looks like.”


this list

Also on AO3

Derek is ready to be home. He’d had a long day at work and just wants to curl up on the couch with Stiles and relax. Maybe drink some tea. As long as he’s with Stiles and doesn’t have to move he doesn’t care. He loves his job but today had been rough. He never knew owning a bookstore could be so stressful.

Derek walks into the house, feeling so worn down that his senses aren’t at the level they should be. If they had been he would have heard the extra heartbeat in the house and been better prepared for the scene he’s greeted with.

Stiles is sitting on the floor with Lydia’s daughter Genevieve, or Evie as they call her, across from him. He can’t fully see what Stiles looks like but he can only imagine what his front looks like given the state of things from the back. There appears to be a tiara on his head and a sheet wrapped around him.

“Stiles?” Derek questions.

Stiles jumps up, whirling around to face Derek with wide eyes, “This is… exactly what it looks like.”

Derek grins at the sight before him. Not only is Stiles in a sheet with a tiara placed on his head, but his face is covered in makeup. “What are you supposed to be?”

“He’s a princess,” Evie says, moving to stand in front of Stiles, “and since you’re here you can be the prince that saves him.”

Derek kneels down in front of the eight year old, “And what are you supposed to be?”

Evie straightens her back, jutting her chin out, “I’m the dragon that’s holding him captive.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and if you want to save Stiles you have to defeat me.”

“Excuse me,” Stiles says, “I’m more than capable of saving myself.”

“You’re trapped in a tower Stiles,” Evie tells him, “Derek needs to defeat me in order to get the key and free you.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to defeat you then,” Derek says, “you better run dragon.”

Derek stands up and Evie runs off, leaving Derek to chase after her. He could easily catch her but he lets her run around the room, keeping a safe distance between them, the two of them laughing happily.

After a few minutes, Derek’s swoops in and picks a screeching Evie up into his arms, spinning around while she laughs, “I believe I have defeated you dragon.”

Evie nods solemnly, “You have. Now you can get your princess.”

She gestures for Derek to put her down, walking over to where her toys are once she’s on the floor. Derek glances at Stiles to see Stiles’ eyes already on him, a fond smile gracing his lips. Evie returns to Derek, something held in front of her. Derek bends down to her level, allowing her to whisper in his ear, “You have to have a gift when you rescue the princess.”

Derek nods, “Of course. What do you have for me?”

She trusts her hand out, opening up her fist and dropping something into Derek’s waiting hand. It’s a plastic ring, “Mommy said you needed to buy Stiles a ring so you two can get married. Now you don’t have to because you have this.”

Derek smiles at her, looking to see Stiles watching the two of them his expression a mix between shock and amusement.

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For You (Part 2)

Thanks to @torakodragon  for this absolutely adorable art and for being my muse in the sequel to For You which has gotten 295 NOTES LIKE WHAT

  Stiles is six when Talia starts to enforce the use of the coat pegs by the front door.

  “I had your father put those up to be used, not admired for his craftsmanship. Use them or extra chores,” She would tell her children. Stiles wasn’t quite tall enough to reach them and after the third near fatal attempt to use a precarious stack of things to reach his designated peg, someone would always be there to help him.

  But, Stiles was tall enough to do other things. Things that Laura had found so cute she had to coo at Derek until he went to smack her as his ears turned red. He had quickly started to undo the loose knot Stiles had put in the sleeves of their jackets, making it look like the articles of clothing were holding hands. But was brought to a halt by the sounds of quiet sniffles behind him.

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The Night Ahead (Part 4)

summary: bucky came out of cryostasis after just a few months. with the help of steve, he’s trying to piece the fractions of his mind back together. while flipping through old HYDRA files, he remembers something from his days as the winter soldier: you.

pairing: bucky x reader (sort of?? it’s complicated)

series contains: angsty angst, sadness, bucky reliving memories as the Winter Soldier, violence, people die a lot, bucky trying to cope, really awful translations of German, Russian, and Romanian (thanks to google translate i apologize in advance)

a/n: as always, thank you for the comments and reblogs. any kind of feedback is loved and appreciated. MASTER LIST | PART THREE

Originally posted by khalblogo

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Work Visits

Another part to my nurseydex children series! Ive offically deemed this Au “Things That Stop You Dreaming” and it can be found on AO3 under that title!

Enjoy Addy being cute af, plus an introduction to Bella! 

(pst, i posted this in two parts on AO3 but yall will get it all in one bc im lazy)

“Daddy, are we there?”

Derek sighed and looked at his daughter for probably the seventh time in the last 10 minutes he’s been driving. This was the seventh time she asked.

“Addison, I know you have the route to the rink memorized, so I know that you know that we are literally in the arena parking lot. You don’t have to antagonize me.”

Addison gave what could only be described as a shit-eating grin from her spot in the back seat. She swung her legs happily. “I know Daddy, but Papa says that I should mess with you more often. He says its funny”

Derek was going to kill his husband.

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Our Kid - Derek Hale

Originally posted by hoechlin


Summary: stilinski!reader dating Derek gets pregnant.

Word Count: 1819

Warnings: none? use protection?

You’d been dating Derek Hale for a year, the only catch was that no one knew besides the two of you. It wasn’t a mutual agreement to keep it a secret—more so him making that choice for you in order to ‘keep you safe’. You weren’t happy with it but soon after realized it was probably not only best for the two of you to flourish behind closed doors but also to avoid the stupid comments from those around you. There was an age gap, something both of you knew about going into the relationship but you couldn’t control how you fell for the infamous sourwolf. The way you caught him glancing at you longer than the rest of Scott’s friends or the way he’d instantly stand in front of you if there was a threat.

You weren’t sure if it was just his wolf instinct to keep the people around him protected or if he had a little crush but you soon brushed it out of your mind when Erica planted a kiss on him during a training session. Scott, your brother, didn’t have any idea you went to Derek’s loft in your spare time. It wasn’t anything but platonic you thought to yourself until he could smell the jealousy radiating off of you and saw how fast your eyes snapped away from his after Erica pounced. You hated it. Once he’d kicked Erica and Isaac out it was just you two, you more confused as to why you weren’t kicked out as well. Derek walked over and pried the history textbook away from you before planting a firm and passionate kiss to your lips. It was your first kiss, which he soon felt horrible for taking without permission until you kissed him again, and again, and again. And now, a year later you two were happier than ever. A few people noticed the way you two acted so stiff around the pack but most of them assumed it was a weird crush.

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Honey Bee

Third part to the Bees Sting story.

Negan x Bee (reader’s nickname)

2300 words

Warnings ~ Negan language, sexual innuendo, Bee’s quirkiness(?)

Lyrics from “Big Spender”

If you want to be tagged, or asked to be tagged and I didn’t, please let me know!

@negans-network, @ladyhawk4133, @jenniegs, @memphisgirl1977, @mwesterfeld1985 @foreverplagued

    As we walked down the hall to my room, her tiny fingers never leaving mine, I chanced a quick glance at her. Her head was down, not even fucking looking where she was walking, just taking the chance that I wouldn’t let her walk into anything.

 “Bee, are you fine with this? You’re awfully fucking quiet, and with your head down like that you kinda look like you’re being led to a fucking firing squad. I can take you back to your room doll, is that what you want?” I was willing her to say no, that she was fucking fine coming to my room.

 Suddenly, she let go of my hand, running like a little rabbit down the hall, stopping right in front of my fucking door. She leaned back against it, placing my scarf around her neck, then gently dropping the toy bee down her top again. Looking directly at me, she smirked. “It’s what I want, Negan.” Winking, she started twirling the ends of my scarf, humming, then singing.

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anonymous asked:

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” Sterek Smutty.

This was a lot of fun to write, thank you for the prompt! I’m probably going to expand this at some point, but here’s 4.3k of angsty, smutty, fight and make up sex Stereky goodness. Enjoy!


Derek followed Stiles into the kitchen silently, so Stiles’ surprised startle when he turned and caught sight of the other man was expected. Unfortunately, so was the forced casual “Hey, dude. What’s up?” And the teasing grin around “I forget to get your drink order, man?”

Derek growls, and it makes Stiles shift uncomfortably, confusion twisting his features, eyebrows arching almost comically when Derek spits out an angry “Stop doing that,” between clenched teeth.

“Doing what, man? Being a good host?” Stiles smirks, his scent sour with anxiety.

“Talking to me like we’re bros. We aren’t friends, Stiles,” his voice is hard and tinged with hurt, Stiles is definitely not afraid of Derek, but this anger being directed at him is new, like the very beginning of their admittedly fucked up relationship, and it makes him tense and nervous.

He forces a laugh, “Well, that’s a little harsh, big guy, after everything we’ve been through…” his voice trails off without his consent as Derek’s posture changes, he’s all hard lines and fight stance, and then he’s stalking forward, forcing Stiles to take a retreating step backwards, Derek’s all predatory grace and a hard set jaw. Stiles shivers, realizes he’s prey.

“You know damn well that’s not what I meant, Stiles. Stop being purposefully obtuse,” he’s practically shouting, and Stiles shushes him. Derek growls, and it makes Stiles’ dick twitch, he hopes he schools his features enough that they don’t give him away, though he knows Derek can smell it. He realizes distantly that Derek is still stalking forward, and that he’s still retreating.

Stiles’ ass hits the counter just as Derek grumbles a sarcastic “Want me to keep my voice down? What’s wrong, baby, afraid someone might hear us? Huh,” he’s sneering at Stiles, an angry smile that’s all teeth. He’s right in Stiles’ ear, his hard muscled chest a long line of heat pressed into Stiles’ own, when he continues, voice less than kindly teasing, “You don’t seem to mind when I’m loud when you’re fucking me into the mattress.”

Derek licks the shell of Stiles’ ear before pulling back to run his nose down the side of his throat. He speaks louder this time, still close enough for it to be considered intimate, his voice is still cruelly distant, but roughened by an edge of desire. “You don’t worry about who can hear when you’re begging me to let you come; when I’m opening you up with my tongue,” he’s palming Stiles’ hip now, and Stiles can feel himself responding, even as he wants to shy away from the harsh tone Derek’s using. “You don’t seem concerned with volume control when you’re screaming around my cock, Stiles. Maybe you just don’t want your friends,” he says the word like it tastes spoiled and sharp, it makes Stiles wince, “to know how much you like it when I call you baby, how I keen for you. How you whine so pretty when I’m inside you,” his breath is whispering over the sensitive skin of Stiles’ neck, raising the fine hairs there and making Stiles tingle, “Is that the problem, hmm?”

He traces a soft line with his thumb and just a hint of blunt human nail along the strip of skin just above Stiles’ jeans, and Stiles feels his eyelashes flutter as all his attention focuses on those bare inches. A thousand miles away, Stiles dimly registers the soft slam of a door and several sets of footsteps; he doesn’t hear the chorus of “About time,” and “Can’t we stay and watch,”and “Pay up, bitches,” but Derek does, he hides his satisfied smile in a soft nip at Stiles’ earlobe.

“D-Derek? I-” Stiles tries to stutter out a question, desperately tries to get Derek to meet his gaze for more than a fleeting moment; he can’t help but feel like he missed something important, there’s so much more than anger in Derek’s voice and demeanor, something else laced heavily through the man’s actions, but he can’t figure it out. Before he can do more than open his mouth to continue, Derek takes a single claw tipped finger and drags it down the front of Stiles’ shirt, splitting it cleanly in two and revealing his lightly muscled chest, his nipples pebble at the cool air rushing over him; after the heat of Derek’s body pressing against him, it’s a shock. He gasps and Derek makes a pleased sound.

“Do you let all your friends do this,” he asks, indicating the swollen, reddened skin on Stiles’ chest, the trail of purple-red bruises along his collarbones. “You let Danny suck on your nipples until you’re babbling nonsense at him, hmm?” Derek traces around one nipple with featherlight touches, drawing soft pants from Stiles’ lips; without warning, he pinches it, hard, and Stiles whines in the back of his throat, his hips stuttering into Derek’s. As their erections brush against one another, Stiles throws his head back and Derek huffs an unhappy laugh into Stiles’ neck.

“And these,” Derek licks at a particularly dark hickey on Stiles’ shoulder, rolls his hips achingly slowly, dragging his hard, jeans clad length along Stiles’, “Do you let Scott bite and suck and worry your flesh between his lips while you jack your dicks together, Stiles?” He sucks at the bruise wetly, adding a sharp bite to make his point, the slow thrust of his dick against Stiles’ not changing, the maddening pace delicious and torturous. “Does Lydia know that if she leaves a little trail of bruises here,” he swipes a spit slick finger down his sternum, connecting a line of freckles and hickies in an obscene constellation and making Stiles shiver and moan loudly, “That it’ll make you leak and whine so beautifully for days after?”

Derek is practically fucking him against the counter now, hips and thighs moving in agonizingly careful counterpoint, one of his big, warm palms still anchored to Stiles’ hip, strong fingers wrapped around to just brush against the swell of his ass, hot and comforting even through the denim, even through the fog of whatever has Derek so angry, he handles Stiles with perfect care. Stiles has one hand braced against the countertop, the cool surface helping to calm his shattering nerves, the other is desperately holding onto Derek wherever he can find purchase; his shoulder, his neck, tangled in his shirt or in the thick silky strands of his hair.

Derek drags his nose, his stubbled cheek, along the long column of Stiles’ throat, rubbing against a mark there that days later still perfectly mimics the shape of Derek’s teeth. “And this? Does my cousin get the pleasure of setting her teeth against your pulse point? Does she get to feel the rush of your heart against her tongue, the warmth of your blood singing through your veins as you beg for her cock? As you come hot and thick between the two of you? Do all your friends know how fucking beautiful you are when you let go, Stiles?”

Stiles makes a desperate sound, and Derek tightens his grip on Stiles’ hip, tugs on his hair with his other hand, drags his lips over the imprint of his mouth, a low rumble in his chest vibrating pleasantly through Stiles where they’re connected. “Or maybe,” Derek whispers conspiratorially, “Maybe we’re more than friends, and you fucking know it,” he finishes on a growl, voice angry and sharp as he steps away from Stiles with a shove. And it’s the way his voice breaks on the word “friends” that lets Stiles finally identify the other emotion that’s been controlling Derek’s actions, coloring his words; it’s hurt. Derek is hurting, and Stiles doesn’t understand why.

Stiles blinks at Derek, standing a few feet away now and practically rebuilding a wall between them as he watches the tension and the pain wash over the man he’s not so secretly in love with, the man he’s been falling into bed with in a rather stupid friends with benefits arrangement over the last few months, the man who maybe, possibly, wants more? Stiles wonders how he could have missed those signs, and is immediately certain he would have written them off as wishful thinking. He sees Derek bracing himself to turn, to walk away, and a monumentally ridiculous and panicked “I didn’t know!” bursts from his mouth before he can think better of it.

It’s Derek’s turn to blink at him, now. Disbelief obvious on his face, he repeats “You didn’t know,” and even if it’s not a question, Stiles feels compelled to answer, because Derek deserves an explanation, and also because it’s been a very long time since he’s spoken, and it’s difficult to hold his silence.

Stiles takes a cautious step toward Derek, hands up and splayed in a placating gesture. “I didn’t know that we could be more than friends, Der. I didn’t know it was on the table, ok. I thought I’d lose what we have if I even thought about us as more,” he takes another small step forward, another, until he’s close enough to reach for Derek, to cup his cheek in one wide, warm, slightly unsteady palm. “No matter how much I wanted more, Derek, I didn’t know it was an option. So, I need you to be pretty explicit here, babe. If more is what you want, I’m on board,” he pulls Derek close with a hand on his hip, winding his arm behind the man’s back and feeling a knot of anxiety unfurl as Derek uncrosses his arms and seeks Stiles’ hand on his face with one of his own, the other settling on Stiles’ chest. “I’m with you as whatever you want us to be, but I need to hear it so I know I’m not making it up, ok?”

His attempt at humor falls flat, but Derek moves a tiny fraction closer, his fingers scrabbling absently at Stiles’ shoulder. He ducks his head, still avoiding eye contact, and speaks on an exhale, voice small, “I thought you- I thought you were-” he takes a long, shuddery breath, and leans his forehead against Stiles’. As he collects himself, the pieces start to fall into place, the things Derek’s said, the way he’s said them… Oh.

“Oh, Der,” Stiles whispers, wrapping himself securely around the idiot wolf in his arms. He makes sure his voice is gentle when he continues, “You thought I was hiding us, that I was-”

“Ashamed,” Derek finishes for him, and his voice cracks painfully on the word, Stiles heart clenches painfully at the resignation in Derek’s voice. Stiles gently nudges Derek’s chin, encouraging him to look up, when he does, impossibly beautiful eyes meeting Stiles’ own, he releases a breath he was only half aware he was holding.

“Hey, there you are,” Stiles smiles, a small, private thing that Derek accepts greedily as the comfort it’s meant as. Stiles takes a breath, taking in the smell of Derek, of aborted arousal, of salty, barely shed tears, he holds Derek close, one large palm cradling his artfully stubbled cheek, the hair surprisingly soft, he takes a moment to revel in the feel of warm skin through cotton and the muscled expanse of Derek’s back beneath his splayed fingers. “You need to know that I could never be anything but proud to be with you, Derek, I just- I didn’t know that we were anything more than what we’ve been these last few years. I thought that we were just good friends who occasionally had really incredible sex,” Derek makes a sound that’s a combination of satisfied and incredulous. Stiles kisses him, a quick, chaste thing that ends up a slow, dragging meeting of lips, matching shy smiles following them out of the kiss.

“Derek, if I had known I could claim you as mine, I would have,” Stiles uses the word claim purposely, a pleased flush humming through him as it hits its target with the intended force, Derek’s pupils dilating and nostrils flaring, his fingers tightening against Stiles, fists pulling his shirt; the ruined material slides further off his shoulders, and Derek licks his lips, eyes darting to the once more revealed markings on Stiles’ bared torso.

Stiles lets his leg slide between Derek’s, just a little. Just enough that he can wriggle his hips in the tiniest of circles and push their groins together almost imperceptibly. Derek groans, low in his throat, and it’s almost a growl. “Derek,” Stiles says, voice breathy and suggestive around the word, “Der, tell me you want this, and I’ll take out an ad in the fucking paper. I’ll call everyone we know right now, but you’ve gotta talk to me,” Stiles knows it’s not fair, to tease the growing bulge in Derek’s pants, to speak low into the space between them, to stroke the bare skin of Derek’s hip where his shirt is rucked up, to smell like want like he knows he does. But, he figures any advantage he can press is a good idea, as resistant as Derek is to the idea of communication.

So he presses. Presses his thigh into the v of Derek’s thighs, presses his thumb into the shelf of Derek’s hipbone, presses a kiss into the corner of Derek’s mouth, follows his kiss with a swipe of his tongue. Derek whimpers, and Stiles’ dick twitches.

“Just- Just, please,” Derek pants lightly, leaning into Stiles, pressing back, “Please stop acting like we’re just-” Derek ruts against him, hard, “Fucking,” another filthy roll of hips, a shared gasp, hands grasping at bare skin, “Friends,” a deep, rumbling moan. A crash of lips, tongues licking and twining, teeth catching; a startled laugh swallowed down eagerly.

They separate, catching their breath in labored pants, foreheads resting together. Stiles laughs, the sound broken by necessary gulps of air, “Baby, I think we are the definition of fucking friends, but if you want to be my boyfriend, I can live with that.”

Derek groans at the awful pun, but he’s smiling fondly at Stiles when he says, “You’re lucky I love you, because you’re not very funny,” he deadpans, and Stiles’ breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah, yeah I’m lucky,” he says. “Buddy.”

“I take it back,” Derek grumbles into Stiles’ neck.

Stiles takes a step back, trailing his hands down Derek’s arms until he can join their hands. “C’mon, boyfriend, let’s go upstairs,” he aims for seductive, but his voice comes out soft and affectionate, but it makes Derek’s whole face light up, so he figures it came out just right.

They make their way up to Stiles’ bedroom, it takes considerably longer than it should, both stopping to push the other against the wall, exchanging deep, searching kisses. Derek strokes up Stiles’ chest, skims his torn shirt off his shoulders to puddle on the staircase, his fingertips bump reverently along the curve of Stiles’ spine, his lips dragging wetly along the column of Stiles’ throat as the other man moans and threads his fingers in Derek’s hair.

Stiles pulls Derek to him for a kiss, he opens his mouth on a gasp, and Derek licks into him. Stiles takes control of the kiss with a swirl of his tongue around Derek’s, sucking the slick muscle into his mouth, hands tangled in Derek’s hair, hips rolling and rutting together.

When they finally stumble into Stiles’ bedroom, their pants are halfway open and they each have a hand in the others underwear, Stiles’ teasing the base of Derek’s cock with his fingers, palm flat against Derek’s groin, Derek’s hand kneading Stiles’ ass, the edge of his thumb pushing into the cleft just above his hole. They’re both achingly hard, moving eagerly against each other, swallowing each other’s increasingly urgent moans.

Stiles breaks away from the kiss with a broken noise, holding Derek’s face in his hands and nipping at his lower lip, he smiles, thumb catching on Derek’s lip and pulling it down. He kisses a trail down Derek’s chest, stopping to worship each nipple with a firm suck, a brief bite followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue. He places light kisses and nips along Derek’s hips as he pulls his jeans and boxer briefs down, fingers tracing an uneven line down Derek’s strongly muscled, hair dusted legs. Stiles groans into the crease of his groin when Derek rests his hand on top of his head, pulls Stiles’ hair lightly. Stiles licks a long, slow stripe up Derek’s shaft with the flat of his tongue, twirls it around the flared head of Derek’s tip, gathers the salty slick precome gathered there before sinking down slowly, until his nose is buried in the crinkly hair at the base of Derek’s dick, eyes locked on Derek’s the whole time.

Derek makes a small, surprised sound, lets his head fall back as his eyes drift shut, focuses on the pleasure that Stiles is giving, on the hot wet suction, the caress of Stiles’ soft palate on his sensitive flesh, the squeeze of Stiles’ throat. He feels Stiles’ head bobbing, feels the rumble of Stiles’ moan vibrate along his erection, feels his long, sure fingers kneading his balls, skimming along his perineum, one soft fingertip pressing at his hole. His hips are stuttering, fucking his cock into Stiles’ throat in short thrusts as the other man moans and drools around him. Stiles pulls off with an exaggerated pop, and grins up at Derek, his balls still cradled in one warm palm.

Derek reaches for him, pulls Stiles to his feet and dives into a kiss, seeking a trace of his own flavor on Stiles’ tongue, the way their tastes mingle is intoxicating. He thinks he might never get enough.

Stepping out of his pants, he walks backwards toward the bed, guiding Stiles with him, lips still eagerly pressing and pulling and sucking at Stiles’ mouth, fingers digging into Stiles back, into the firm swell of his ass. Derek pulls Stiles to him with both hands firmly gripping his butt, forcing his hands to pool at his feet; he kneads and squeezes Stiles’ ass, using his grip to pull the other man against him, their leaking lengths dragging and grinding against one another.

Derek hoists Stiles up, encouraging the man to wrap his legs around his waist, and Stiles whimpers at the display of strength. Derek bites along Stiles’ jaw, his chin, he finds the place where Stiles’ neck still wears his mark and laves at it reverently, tongue hot and slow as it traces the imprint of his own teeth. He sucks a deep, red bruise around the bite.

Between them, they’re both dripping, small pools of precome gathering and dotting Derek’s stomach, catching in his chest hair. Stiles unwinds one arm from around Derek’s shoulders to scratch and pull at the dark, springy hairs that cover Derek’s chest, they both groan at the sensation. After a moment, Stiles wraps a hand around them both, pressing their shafts together and dragging his hand slowly up and down, he pauses to lick his hand, watching Derek watch him with lust blown pupils. Once he’s satisfied with the slickness of his palm, he returns it too it’s previous position, adding to the existing slick pleasantly. Derek teases Stiles’ hole with one blunt finger, and remains his mouth in a bruising kiss, licking into Stiles’ mouth like he’s seeking answers.

Just as they both begin to thrust into the hot clench of Stiles’ hand, Derek breaks away from the kiss, stills Stiles’ hand with his own and moves it back to test behind his neck. Derek returns his lips to Stiles’, a gentle, slow exploration, he slides one hand from where he’s holding the other man aloft to settle it between his shoulder blades, uses the embrace to pull Stiles closer and then to lower him, soft as can be, onto the bed.

Derek blankets Stiles with his weight, presses his body into Stiles’ smaller one, takes a moment to appreciate the contrast of Stiles’ paler skin and general lack of body hair (except for one delicious and enticing trail from his navel) against his own hirsute, olive toned flesh. Stiles is all lean strength and smooth lines, marred after all the years of fighting by the occasional scar, but no less beautiful. He kisses Stiles with deliberate gentleness, more soft brushes of lips and slow, deep sweeps of tongue than anything, a long, dragging scrape of teeth as Derek captures Stiles’ bottom lip. They kiss like that until they’re both trembling, holding each other close with just their fingertips, bodies rocking against one another with achingly careful movements.

When they break the kiss, they stare at each other, breathing heavily into the small space between their bodies, for an indefinitely long moment, the intimacy shocking in its completeness, and Stiles cups Derek’s face with a shaking hand, an action Derek mirrors with equal care.

“So much more,” Stiles says quietly and full of wonder, it’s barely a whisper but Derek hears it like a proclamation. He hears all the endings to that sentence, all the things he’s ached to hear and to say. He hears so much more than friends, so much more than I ever dared to hope for, so much more I want to do, so much more time to be together, so much more love I want to give you, and Stiles means every single one.

Without discussion, they move further up the bed, Stiles sliding slowly up, Derek crawling after him, his body caging Stiles’. Their skin is not quiet touching, but the heat between them is like a ghostly caress, a tingling sensation, a buzz and thrum in their veins. They’ve always had this awareness of one another, but it’s never felt so alive between them, like electricity and magic at once.

When they reach the headboard, Derek settles between Stiles’ splayed legs and they kiss, this time a simple press of lips that lingers sweetly. Stiles presses a small bottle into Derek’s hand, and it takes him a moment to realize what it is, and before he can start to wonder how he missed Stiles procuring the lube, Stiles is raking his fingertips up Derek’s sides and whimpering “Please,” as he rolls his hips into Derek’s.

Derek has never been able to deny Stiles, and he doesn’t want to start now. He takes a generous amount of lube and warms it with his fingers before he draws a tight circle around Stiles’ hole, pushing steadily but not hurriedly at the tight furl of flesh and muscle. Derek wants to use his tongue, wants to taste Stiles and feel him clench around it, but he wants to go slow, to watch the pressure wash over Stiles’ face, so as he presses two thick fingers into Stiles, he doesn’t look away from his cinnamon and whiskey gaze, and Stiles expression does not disappoint. His jaw goes slack and his pupils dilate, leaving just a narrow ring of their beloved color; his eyelashes flutter and his forehead creases. Derek is enamored with the way Stiles looks in moments of passion, open and radiant and honest.

Stiles moans as Derek pushes both fingers into him with one long, slow glide, curling to brush his prostate before retreating and pushing forward once again, slowly and expertly fucking into him and opening him up. By the time Derek has three fingers moving in and out of him, Stiles is babbling and clutching Derek’s shoulder, tangling his hand on Derek’s hair, and they’re both moaning and cursing and saying each other’s names like sacred mantras.

When Derek pulls his fingers back, they both make a sound of protest, but it’s quickly replaced with a satisfied sigh as he pushes into Stiles in one slow, even thrust. The clenching heat is overwhelming, and Derek has to close his eyes, has to block out the look of rapture on Stiles’ face to keep from coming before he can even move. After regaining his composure somewhat, he looks back at Stiles, finds him with his head thrown back, neck bared and flushed and beautiful. The weight of Derek’s gaze brings Stiles’ to meet it, and they smile at each other as they begin to move in perfect counterpoint, Stiles’ hips rising to meet every downward thrust of Derek’s. Their rhythm steady but deliberate, careful even as they drive each other closer and closer to orgasm, even as they kiss like starving men and holds each other impossibly close.

They thread their fingers together, rest their joined hands above Stiles’ head as Derek’s other hand grips Stiles’ thigh, pushing it higher on his own hip so the heel of Stiles’ foot rests at the small of Derek’s back. They look at one another even as their movements become erratic and their hips stutter, as their kiss becomes an uncoordinated press and drag of lips and tongue. Even as Stiles tightens impossibly around Derek’s cock as he comes between them, untouched dick spasming and shooting hotstickywhite all over his own stomach and chest and Derek’s chest hair, the milky fluid almost obscene against the dark curls.

They look at each other fondly even as Derek is overcome by the squeezing heat of Stiles’ orgasm and tumbles into his own, filling Stiles with his own hot rush of come. They look at each other and stroke passion heated skin with come-clumsy fingers and matching awed expressions, even as Derek licks at a small puddle of Stiles’ come that landed on Stiles’ nipple.

They hold each other for a long time, as their bodies cool, Stiles will lift his head briefly from Derek’s chest to pull the blanket up from the foot of the bed. As they drift off to sleep, Derek will kiss the top of Stiles’ head. When he is almost asleep, Stiles will whisper “I love you,” and kiss Derek’s neck. Derek will run a thumb along where he knows his bite marks Stiles’ neck and whisper back a deadpan “Me, too. Pal,” and they will both laugh after Stiles ineffectually slaps his shoulder and makes an offended squawk.

They both sleep better than either has in years, plans for a mutually desired future playing behind their closed eyelids.

artemis69  asked:

CONGRATULATIONS ON THE 2k!! you deserve each and everyone of them ly lovely :D I'm gonna try the prompt with jealous!Derek/oblivious!Stiles and "other werewolves hitting on Stiles" :D

Okay, college is whooping my ass but I FINALLY FINISHED!!! This took super long mostly because I wrote about six different drafts and hated all of them so this is what finally passed the last Haelley inspection. Hope you enjoy it and thanks for being a rad mutual!! 

“Hey, Stiles,” Stiles looks up from his phone and spots a head of mousy brown hair that levels with his shoulder. “Missed you in History today.”

“Ana, what’s up?” he smiles, accepting the hug she opens her arms for. “Yeah, I decided to take the day off with my friends,” Stiles says with a shrug, not mentioning that the “beach trip” he and the pack took was really a treaty talk that went sour fast. Isaac nearly became a mermaid’s pet sea turtle.

“Lucky you, Mr. Weinhert was a total bore today,” Ana laments and Stiles laughs at the eyeroll she offers, shoulders slumping with it.

“Maybe you could make a break for it one of these days,” Stiles tells her, understanding the dire need for any kind of escape from Mr. Weinert’s droning voice. That man wouldn’t know what inflection was if it smacked him upside the head.

“Maybe you could show me that beach you went to sometime?” Before Stiles can even attempt to come up with a plausible reason for Ana to never go to that beach he feels a warm palm settle on the curve of his lower back.

“The movie is about to start.” Stiles catches the way Ana’s eyes widen and stare at the figure likely looking all imposing and scary over his shoulder. He was probably doing that constipated growly face that the women all over town tend to call “mysterious” and “brooding” and somehow found crazily attractive. The pretty bastard.

“Did you guys get the snacks?” Stiles turns to look at the alpha behind him, oddly surprised by how aggressive the glare resting on his features is. The pack had come a long way, had managed to become more a of team than just begrudging allies and with that came a much less “I-have-a-stick-up-my-ass” Derek and more “I’m-aggressive-because-I-care” Derek which although not the end goal, was a very appreciated change. Derek seemed to glare less often and it felt less threatening and more concerned. It was character growth damnit, and Stiles couldn’t figure out why his alpha was suddenly reverting back.

He turns, not dislodging Derek’s hand from his back but adjusting his stance so he could place a hand on his chest. There’s a soft ‘oh’ from behind him (presumably Ana) but Stiles isn’t concerned with that right now. Stiles’ eyebrows draw together, silently asking Derek what’s wrong.

“I don’t see why you need to buy snacks when you have Erica and Isaac smuggling in two whole pizzas.” Derek gives no acknowledgement to Stiles’ concern, but keeps his gaze on Ana which makes Stiles freak out just a bit thinking another one of his classmates is some creature of the night ready to snack on some human flesh.

“You look suspicious if you don’t buy food!” Stiles huffs, indignant to how Derek must have been ignoring his well crafted explanation from when they all drove to the theater.

“Uh, it was nice seeing you Stiles,” Ana speaks up and Stiles turns, remembering having a conversation before Derek the Caveman appeared. Ana is backing away, looking shy and maybe a little cowed? So, maybe not a supernatural if she’s so easily deterred. Lord only knows why all the supernaturals in this town are so damn cocky.

“Yeah, you too. See you in class!” Stiles turns after responding to his retreating classmate, catching her smile as she rushes off towards a group of girls by the door to leave. Now that there wasn’t an audience, Stiles turns to look at Derek fully.

“Spit it out, Stiles,” Derek sighs when Stiles doesn’t say anything other than stare at the werewolf in concern.

“Is something wrong? You looked upset.” He tilts his head, looking over Derek’s hardened features and feeling his anxiety ratchet up. If the action also happens to reveal the vulnerable skin of his throat in placation of his alpha, well no one had to know but him.

“No, I’m fine. Who was she?” Derek’s gaze shifts from Stiles to the group of girls at the exit, still huddled around in a group, most of their attention on a blushing Ana.

“Ana? Just a friend from class.” Derek huffs out a breath and starts guiding him with a gentle pressure on his lower back, heading towards the pack. “Did you smell something? Is she a monster?” Stiles’ shoulders slump rather than tense at the thought of a new monster and maybe that says a little too much on just how deep he is into the supernatural. “Don’t tell me she’s another mermaid,” he whines, “I couldn’t even look at a fish right now. My dad’s gonna be eating just chicken for weeks because of today.”

Derek shakes his head and staves off a smile, “She smelt fine, Stiles.” And maybe that admittance sours his mood, but no one but him had to know.

Keep reading

dasey + (requested)

“Oh, my God. You’re in love with him.”

a/n: line prompt request. I’ve had part of this written for awhile now for a bigger story. So the only thing I’d like to add is that after ‘Vacation with Derek’ is that Casey does decide to skip college and go dance in New York but she does visit, obviously.


There’s a party back at Queens and Derek actually invites Casey, begrudgingly, she thinks, but he offers and she accepts because she just honestly doesn’t have anything else to do. He kept introducing all his friends to Casey. Granted he had to introduce her as Klutzilla and Space Case, at first. But after a quick hit in the shoulder with a 'Der-ek!’ he had subsided with a laugh. 

But then Casey sees them out of the corner of her eye while she’s talking with Derek and some of his friends. And suddenly  her blood is boiling and she feels like she’s  back in high school again. 

Because right before her very eyes is Vicky. And Truman. And more importantly it’s them together. But the thing is, is she already knew they were but it makes her sick all the same to have to witness it.

Derek glances over at Casey then over his shoulder where Casey’s staring. He puts a protective arm around Casey because he knows she’s hurting and angry. He pulls her against him until she looks at him and not them. 

“You wanna go?” He asks quietly, not taking his eyes off her. 

She glances back at them and sighs. “No. I’m fine.” He smirks down at her and moves his hand from the small of her back to sling an arm around her shoulders.

Here’s the thing about Vicky and Truman and Casey. He cheated on her but everyone knows that. And like an idiot she forgave him and took him back but everybody knows that. What most don’t know is that he cheated again. With Vicky, again. And then he had the nerve to break up with her before she could break up with him. She wished she had punched him. Or her. Both would be ideal, she thinks.

But when she feels Derek’s arm tighten slightly around her as he laughs loudly at something his friends had said, it calms her down. She relaxes and turns back to the conversation at hand. She can ignore them. As long as they leave her alone. She’ll be fine. But they don’t, of course, because they’re idiots. 

“Hey Case!” Vicky says going in for a hug. Casey doesn’t hug back. Derek also doesn’t remove his arm which makes it that much more awkward. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you in forever, back from New York?”

“Yeah. Vacation."

"That’s fun! How you been? How’s your boyfriend.. Andrew?"

"Fine and fine. It was nice seeing you.” And she tries to turn away but-

“Did he come down with you? I’d love to meet him."

"Why? So you can kiss him while my backs turned, too?”

It’s harsh and she hadn’t actually meant to blurt that out but she’s glad she said it by the look on Vicky’s face. Like she’s just been slapped. Derek’s friends crow loudly and she can just sense Derek trying not to smile too widely. When she manages to look at him for a split second, she’s sees she’s right.

“Excuse me.” She says taken aback. 

“Okay, you’re excused." 

"Casey this is completely uncalled for.” Truman appears then and that just really gets her going. 

“Truman. Let me just explain something real quick. I don’t like you. I don’t like her. And I don’t fucking have to.”

“Look, Casey-” Truman begins.

“What part of that made you think I still wanted to converse with you?”

“I know-”

“No, you don’t. There are over a hundred people here that you can talk to. But you chose to irritate me. I don’t want apologies or small talk or anything you two have to offer except a good-bye. Go and be happy together but don’t bring the person you cheated on apart of any further communication. Because I don’t care.”

“Casey, it was just a simple hello! You have no right to insult her for trying to be friendly!”

She snorts and steps out of Derek’s arm. “It’s not really an insult, it’s more of an observation.”

Truman stepped forward to speak and Derek slides in between them. “Truman, get lost.”

“What are you? Her bodyguard?” Casey wants to slap that smug grin off his face. How had she ever seen that look as charming?

“Something like that."

"Hmm, well, being honest, yanno man to man. You look like a little whipped bitch.”

“Babe, let’s go.” Vicky tries grabbing at his arm and not looking at anyone. 

“No.” He snaps pulling his arm out of her hands. “You tried to be cordial and I’m not about to let people talk to my girl that way."

"Well,” Derek smiled coyly, “I don’t let people talk to my girl that way either.”

“Your girl? Casey’s your girl? Yanno, I always knew there was something between you two. All that fighting. Just didn’t realize it was sexual frustration. Wouldn’t that make it incest? Just a little bit, ri-”

Casey decks him, right in the nose and he crumbles to the floor in a slur of curses and blood. Vicky drops down next to him frantic and screaming as the party starts to erupt in mass chaos of cheering on the fight at hand. 

But the only thing Casey can hear is Truman’s words ringing in her ears. And trying to ignore the way her heart had fluttered when Derek had called her his girl.

“Fucking shit, you psycho bitch!” Truman screams from the floor as blood pours out of his nose.

“Fuck, Case, c'mon. We gotta go.”

She nods deftly, letting Derek lead her through the swarm of people. His hand is laced in hers as she’s dragged behind him out into the street. The Prince is parked a block away but his hand never leaves hers and they’re almost to the car when he stops them underneath a street lamp.

He turns to look at her and ultimately drops her hand only to pick up the other one. “Nice punch, by the way.” The smile on his face is like looking into the sun. 

“I can’t believe I did that.”

He snorts and that damn smirk is on his face as he glances up at her before turning his attention back to her hand. “Well, I can’t believe you didn’t do it sooner. Or that you even know how to throw a punch, Princess.”

“I’m not completely helpless you know.” She argues.

One eyebrow raises up as he says, “Clearly. This is going to be bruised like hell tomorrow. But, at least, you didn’t break anything."

He’s still kind of holding her hand in his and all she can think of is 'I always knew there was something between you two.’ She wants to cry or scream or maybe both because suddenly there’s one thought rushing in her head and it feels like a ticking time bomb. Casey rushes forward and buries her face in Derek’s chest. She’ll settle for just crying. 

Derek’s awkwardly stiff for half a second before his arms completely engulf her. Neither of them say anything but Casey’s arms are up underneath his jacket and his hand is kinda stroking her hair and it feels like home she realizes. 

His voice is soft and smirky as he says, "Don’t cry on the leather jacket, Case.”

And she sniffles out a laugh, hugging him tighter. "Shut up, Derek.“

The ride home is a blur. Mostly because the high of actually punching Truman gives away to the actual pain in her hand. She might have known how to throw a punch enough to not break anything but it was already beginning to bruise and swell up.

She whines and he rolls his eyes. She complains that they should stop for ice and he argues they have ice at home. They bicker the whole way home and it only ends when they enter the house because if they wake up the baby, George and Nora will kill them.

Derek walks straight to the kitchen and throws some ice into a dishcloth. "Here, Princess.”

“Thanks.” Casey sighs. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it. Literally.”

She grins a bit, “We wouldn’t want anyone to think that the great Derek Venturi has a heart now would we?”

He rolls his eyes and snorts then extends his hand toward her. “Lemme see.” She begrudgingly puts her hand in his and he takes the opportunity to push down roughly on the bruise. “That hurt?”

She hits him hard on the shoulder with her good hand while cradling the bruised one against her chest. “Der-ek, you’re such an asshole!”

He laughs out, “I think you’ll survive.”

“You’re an idiot,” she huffs.

They argue (somewhat quietly as to not wake anyone) as they make their way up the stairs until they’re both standing in front of their respective rooms. Casey glances at her door for a second before her eyes are back to Derek with the ever present smirk on his face.

“Thanks for having my back tonight.” She whispers.

His smirk softens in a way she somehow knows is just for her. It’s always just for her. “Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me.”

She smiles an answer because she would in a heartbeat. “Goodnight, Derek.”

“Night, Case.” They’re still looking at each other as they enter their rooms and those soft smiles they reserve for each other are on both their faces.

Casey closes her door and leans back against it as she switches on her light. Immediately, she sees her face in the mirror directly across her room and sighs. “Oh my God,” she whispers to her reflection, “You’re in love with him.”

a/n: I have one more line prompt request waiting in my inbox and I will begin working on that next, loves.

Sterek A-Z Challenge: one word prompts

Week 21: U - Useless

Stiles completely lost his shit on a Wednesday. It was a week after he had been released from the hospital, and at first, he’d loved the sudden increase in attention, and had been shameless in taking advantage of Derek and his dad’s sudden need to dote on him. It had been fun to watch Derek scurry around the apartment at a mere suggestion or a quiet sigh. Even his dad had begun to willingly make healthy meal suggestions and choices to lessen Stiles’ apparent stress.

Relegated to cherished invalid, Stiles was waited on, hand and foot, twenty-four seven by his boyfriend and his dad, which included a myriad of increasingly ridiculous tasks from being carried from bed to couch to kitchen, cuddled by his favourite living, breathing, fluffy wolf-pillow, and sponge-bathed daily since his nearly full leg cast couldn’t go in the shower.

His dad had only tried to help sponge him down once, and that had been enough. Apparently, it had been more than his dad ever wanted to see of his adult son, and Derek had happily, almost eagerly, taken over the duties. Not that Stiles could deny his boyfriend the honour of sponging his naked body because the end results usually lead to a little more clean up.

But then, the had guilt set in.

Every pained whimper etched another crease into his dad’s already worried brow and sent Derek’s protective instincts into overdrive with his need to take care of Stiles. Derek and his dad did everything for him. Stiles wasn’t used to sitting back and doing nothing because he liked to be in on the action and throw himself into the fray. Relax hadn’t been a part of his vocabulary for a long time. Beacon Hills saw to that.

Moving to New York to attend Columbia had been a huge lift on the pressure and stress, a break in the nightmare of fighting for his life every single day, but he had thrown himself into his work, both school and job, to fill the sudden emptiness. No time to slow down. He planned to graduate with honours. But then, a little girl had chased a balloon into a busy street, and it hadn’t even been a choice for Stiles.

Stiles had woken up in the hospital almost a day later with a terrified Derek and his worried dad, who had flown across the country, at his bedside.

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A Softer Voice

Lena deals with panic attacks

This was beta-ed by the absolutely amazing and fabulous @rtarara . She is the best. 

You can read this on AO3

Sometimes everything is too much. It claws up her throat, grasping at her tongue. Her heart beating in her chest slipping till it’s the only sound in her ears. Then the images start, slow and steady, until there’s an unending cascade, spilling, spilling across her eyes.

They bend her forward, those images, spiraling, spiraling until her head’s between her knees. Her throat closes, she can’t breathe. Tiny gasps through clenched teeth as the faces of her family play out across her eyelids.

Lex, Lex, Lex, that manic look in your eyes, “We’ll kill them all”

The voices come one after another, overlapping so it’s hard to make out each individual sound. They scream and whisper things that should never be said.

Mother, mother why? “You were never a Luthor to begin with, only a tool, a broken one at that.”

She rocks forward and back, her hands pressed to her ears. Her heartbeat hammers against her fingertips and she traces those faces with closed eyes.

She can see them coming for her, she can hear every footstep, can feel every breath against the back of her neck. She doesn’t scream; just breathes and feels as she rocks on her heels.

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Drinking Game, Never the Same.(Extended Version)

A/N: The long awaited extended version. If you already read my unedited version, reread this one because it’ll make more sense.

Here it was Friday night and while all the normal kids were out partying, here I was with a bed full of snacks watching Netflix. This was my usual ritual, especially when one of those parties was being thrown by my best friend Lydia. It was widely known she threw the best parties in Beacon Hills and no one, I mean no one, missed them. But tonight, drunken bodies grinding against each other didn’t really appeal to me. My friends had all begged me to come, and even now my phone chimed every other second it seemed from them asking me join them. I always politely declined, besides I was comfy in my warm bed.


I almost didn’t hear the sound at first. I didn’t pay much mind to it until…


I paused my show making my room go silent and I frowned as I looked around trying to find the orientation of the noise.

Tick. Tick.

I snapped my head in the direction of my window where I was sure the sound was coming from.

Tick tick tick tick tick.

Someone was throwing tiny rocks at my window, and the the latter time throwing more than one at once. I stood up slowly from my resting spot on my bed, and cautiously walked to my window. There was one more tick before I peered discreetly out my window. It was pretty dark out, but the street lamp that was just outside my house brought some light to my yard. There I saw a boy standing in the shadows of my lawn and he didn’t seem all that steady. He was looking on the ground for something and a second later he seemed to find it. I moved fully in front of my window, knowing now the culprit would be able to see me. I watched as he drew his arm back as to throw something, but stopped when he saw me. He remained just outside of the reach of the street light, hindering me from seeing his features. My eyes adjusted more to the darkness and I could see now that he was jumping up and down, waving his arms emphatically. This person apparently knew me, so I unlocked my window and slid the glass up.

“Y/N!” The boy yelled happily. The voice was familiar but there was a slight slur to his words.

“Who’s there?” I whispered loudly back.

“What do you mean ‘Who’s there’? You’re looking right at me.” He sassed loudly.

“No,” I said trying to keep my voice as quiet as possible. “All I see is a dark figure lurking in the shadows like a creep.”

“Ohhhh.” The boy sang. “Can you see me now?” He moved from the darkness to the light and finally I could see my mysterious visitor. The dull light lit up his features and I could see clearly now the goofy smile I loved so much.


“It’s me.” He slurred moving his hands in a dopey manner.

“Are you drunk?” I sounded.

“What? Me? No!” He swatted his hand forward dismissing the comment but swung too hard and stumbled a few steps forward.

“Okay. Slightly inebriated.” He chuckled.

I shook my head at him a smile forming on my lips. “Why are you here?”

“Lydia’s party was boring without you.” He said boisterously.

“Shhh.” I hissed bringing my index finger to my lips.

“Can I come in already?” He whined. I took a moment to mull this over but made my decision quickly when he clumsily wobbled aimlessly around like a ballerina humming an off beat tune.

“Yes! Fine! But be quiet!” I warned. I tiptoed out of my room and down the stairs, opening my door to my amber eyed best friend. Now up close I could see they were sort of glossed over and he wore a smile. I opened the door wider allowing him entrance and closed it silently after he walk through it. Stiles waited for me at the foot of the stairs, and I led the way to my room. His heavy feet stomped up the incline behind me, I winced each time praying my parents wouldn’t hear. I rushed him inside and closed my door. I breathed a sigh of relief blowing my bangs up momentarily in the process. I watched Stiles wonder around my room observing the photos he’d already seen a million times.

“How did you get here?” I asked not recalling have seen the big blue jeep out front.

“I walked.” He said as he started pulling articles out of his jacket pocket and unloading them on my bed.

“You walked from Lydia’s?” I implored almost forgetting to whisper.

“Mhm.” He hummed fiddling with the objects on the bed. They clanked together which made me think it was glass.

“What’s that?” I questioned stepping to him and pushed him aside so I could see. I gapped and let out a single breathy laugh as I took in the sight on my bed. There lie at least twenty five mini bottles of liquor.

“Where did you get these?” I asked in awe.

“Lisa Kudrow brought a case from her mom’s work at that fancy new hotel downtown.” He beamed. “You didn’t come to the party, so I brought the party to you.”

“Thanks bud.” I smiled raising my hand for him to high five it. Instead he went in for huge bear hug. It was endearing at first, but in his intoxicated state she did realize he was beginning to hug me too tightly.

“Stiles.” I wheezed.

“Oops, sorry Y/N.” He apologized releasing me. I smiling indicating I was okay and glanced at the alcohol again.

“Wanna play a round of buzz?” I offered with a cynical smile. Buzz was a drinking game my friends and I played any rare occasion we had alcohol drinks. It was simply, but increasingly hard the more you drank. It was basically a counting game, but by different multiples. For example, each person takes turns counting each, let’s say, seventh multiple you have to say buzz if you forget or say the wrong one you have to drink.

“Hell yeah.” He grinned.

We sat on my bed with all the drinks between us and began.

“Let’s do threes.” I told him. “One.” I started.

“Two.” He followed.

“Buzz!” I shout whispered.

“Three.” He continued.

“Drink!” I laughed picking up a random bottle and handing it to him.

“What?” He whined.

“It’s one, two, buzz, four, loser.” I pushed the bottle into his hand, and he snatched it jokingly. He unsealed it and chugged the liquid, making a face as he did. We kept going until both of us were too drunk to even know what a number was. Somehow we ended up on my floor laying next to each other, playing fuck, marry, kill.

“Okay.” I hiccuped. “Liam, Derek, Scott.

“Oh no.” Stiles laughed. He took a moment to think before answering. “Well I’d have to marry my best friend and kill Liam, for obvious reasons.”

“So you’d fuck Derek?!” I giggled a little obnoxiously due to my state.

“Well with Liam’s anger issues, what other choice do I have?”

“I knew you had a thing for Derek.” I teased.

“No way.” He mumbled. “I like boobs…and butts. Big butts.”

“Okay!” I said slapping his shoulder. “My turn.”

He smiled devilishly and when he said the names I was almost surprised I hadn’t expected them.

“Scott, Liam, and…Der-um actually me.”

With my mind slightly foggy, I tired really hard to consider my options. The three choices were all my friends, and Stiles my best friend. Trying to think of anyone of them that way felt weird.

“Well I guess I’d marry Liam, because he’s big and strong and could protect me.” I paused and drunkenly turned my head to Stiles to see his expression. Everything spun before it slowed resting on him. He was looking at the ceiling but nodded indicating he wanted me to continue. 

“and kill Scott, only because maybe if I did somehow I’d absorb his alpha powers.” Stiles snorted and finally turned his head to mine.

“It could happen.” I laughed, nudging him with my elbow. 

We both giggled crazily, but I didn’t really know why. When we settled a silence grew over us and I remembered I still had one more choice left. My heart lurched as I became aware of what I’d just implied. Stiles said nothing. Again he stared at the ceiling making it hard for me to read him. 

“You know what I remember?” I said quickly trying to change the subject.

“What?” My golden eyed friend asked finally looking over to me.

“I remember when you used to carry that ratty old bear around with you everywhere.” I giggled before letting out a loud hiccup.

Stiles turned a shade of scarlet and fought back a smile trying not to show his amusement of the memory.

“You know what I remember?” He said in a low voice, a smile forming over his lips.

He didn’t give me anytime to answer as he pounce on top of me quickly moving his fingers over my ribs and my underarms. The pleasurable yet painful sensation rushed over me as he found all my sensitive spots and attacked them. I cried out in uncontrollable laughter.  

“I remember.” He grunted followed by a laugh as I tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “that you’re really…”

He tickled my collarbone.


He tickled my ribs again.

“Ticklish.” He snorted as I finally pushed his hands away and tried to scurry away knowing he’d come back for more. I laughed again when he grabbed my waist pulling me back to him and than pinned my hands down to my side. We were both giggling and laughing no longer trying to keep our voices down.

“So,” he said finally. “You’d fuck me?”

I blushed at the words, realizing I’d never heard Stiles say something like that before. The question was loaded although it seemed simply. Would I have sex with my best friend? No. But apart of me felt like that’s what I was suppose to say, ‘No’. But did I really mean it? If the opportunity presented itself would I do…’it’ with Stiles?

His eyes scanned my face, looking over my hair, eyes, cheeks, and coming to rest at my lips. They lingered there for a moment before shooting up to my eyes, meeting my stare. His eyes widen as he seemed to realise what he’d just done and he quickly sat up. He scratched the back of his awkwardly mumbling something I didn’t quite catch. He struggled to look anywhere but at me only to catch himself accidentally gazing at my lips again. This exchange was odd for us, in our twelve years as friends I couldn’t recall an awkward moment between us. Even being drunk, I was confused as to why this exchange was different from all the others. But like a broken levy it came rushing to me all at once and with out warning. This was different because for the first time ever, there was an attraction between us. A desire to want more than words could hold. The way that Stiles looked at me only confirmed my suspicions, and somehow only made me want him more.

I sat up fully, which took him by surprise, and he watched me intently as I did so. He continued to watch me as I closed my eyes and leaned in slowly placing a kiss on his soft wet lips. The kiss was brief but seemed to last a life time. He tasted sweet and his lips held power over mine. I was curious as we pulled away, eyes still closed, if the there would be anything between us other than our long friendship. When I opened my eyes his were already wide looking at me. For a small second, we stared at each other gaging one another’s reaction. His eyes mirrored what I knew mine beamed, certain desire. No words were needed as we reconnected our lips once again, this time with more confidence and eagerness. Stiles moved his hand up to my cheek, pulling me closer to him. I craned up further to keep pace with his lips. I never knew that I could see Stiles this way. It was uncharacteristic of him, but he was mysterious and sexy. Sexy? The thought made me laugh in to our kiss. Stiles pulled away, his hand still tenderly on my cheek, and looked at me.

“What?” He asked concerned.

I realized I must have shook his confidence a little.

“You’re a great kisser.” I smiled trying to recover from my rudeness.

He smiled, and I was amazed at how the small action could make my heart speed up slightly.

“Bed?” I suggested. He nodded in response and I climbed on to my bed centring myself in the middle of it. Stiles climb on it but laid his body above mine. We’d never been so close and I could feel his body heat against. Something hard was pressing against my thigh and it didn’t take too much thought to realise what it was. The idea that I did that too him turned me on so bad. I reached between the two of us pulling at the hem of my shirt only to pull it off my body. Stiles stared at me clad in my bra. He blinked a few times and then his lips connected with my cleavage. He kissed it lightly following the natural curve of my breast. I sighed at the sensation and laced my finger in his hair. He moved down to my bare torso kissing every inch he could find, finally stopping at the waist band of my sleeping shorts. He glanced up at me asking for permission to take them off. I nodded and a second later they were tossed aside along with his t-shirt. His head was between my thighs now kissing up and down my thighs. I arched my back feeling my panties dampen each time his lips connected with them. I lifted my head up to watch him and noticed I was wearing my unicorn underwear, and cursed myself for picking today of all days to wear the most unsexy piece of clothing I owned. Stiles didn’t seem to mind as he skilfully discarded them from my body added them to the pile that was forming on the floor. He placed his head at my sex again, and without warning licked a stripe along my folds. I wined in pleasure as his tongue connected with my clit and he licked circles with it. I moaned and this only coaxed him to move faster along the sensitive bundle of nerves. Again, my fingers found his hair and tugged lightly on it pushing him further into my core. A rippling was forming in my stomach and my breathing became more and more laboured with every expert movement of his tongue.

“Stiles,” I breathed out knowing I was only seconds away from my release. “I’m going to come.”

“Come, Y/N.” His sweet voice saying the two words plummeted me over my edge and I writhed with satisfaction. He sat up from his perch between my legs licking every last bit of me from his lips. I was amazed at how sexy he could be without trying and I wondered how I’d gone this long without knowing. With both rid ourselves of the last of our clothing until we were both completely naked. Stiles was still sitting up and he looked over my body with greedy eyes. I hugged my chest, as I lay there, feeling exposed. But he pushed my arms away,

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he bent down to give me a kiss. His lips moved from mine to my jawline and up to the spot behind me ear down my neck nibbling and sucking until finally finding a home at my sweet spot on the crook of my neck. He hands floated over my body touching every inch it could reach.

“Stiles?” I wined.

“Hm?” He hummed into my neck.

“Fuck me, please?”

He stopped teasing me and sat up in awe of my words.

“W-what?” He stuttered.

“Please?” I begged and that’s all it took as he lined the tip of his hard length with my entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asked but I could already feel him entering achingly slow. I nodded my head furiously clawing at his hips to come closer to mine.

“Y/N, are you sure?” He said again and this time I heard the seriousness in his voice. I was unsure what response I was suppose to give. So I settle with a firm yes. Not a moment after I utter the word was the entirety of his member inside me and I chocked back a yelp that almost escaped me throat.

“Fuck.” Stiles groaned.

He began sliding in and out of me and at first it was slow and deliberate. But soon his thrusts quickened stirring up the familiar feeling in her lower abdomen. An excitement ran through my body at the though that I may come once again. I hadn’t had sex many times before, but not even to myself could I come more than once in such a small period of time. Stiles’s warm hands found my breast and held on to them as his movements grew needier and sloppy. With his thumb and forefinger he pinch and pulled the hard nubs adding to the pleasure he was already giving me. My wines and moans seemed to be giving him an equal amount of euphoria as I caught him several times watching me. He consistently grazed over my g-spot making the fire in my belly pool and threaten to spill over any moment.

“You’re going to make me come.” I wined digging my nails in to my bed sheets. He responded by slamming his body harder into mine and making his member hit my g-spot just as hard. I cried out and with one last thrust the fire inside me spilled over my body setting even my veins a flame. My walls tighten around him and I could feel him able to move easier inside me because of the new lubrication from my come. He threw his head back at the new feeling moving his hands from my boobs to my hips getting a better grip. Once again, he moved fast within me allowing me to ride out my orgasm and to reach his. Stiles let out a growl slowing his movements as I felt his hot white liquid released inside of me. He pulled out falling backwards on my bed, and only our breathing and the smell of sex filled my room. I laid there in a blissful state letting my thoughts run wild, and it was only when I began drifting off to sleep that it hit me.

We hadn’t used protection.

“Stiles!” I gasped shooting up.

He’d been a sleep and clumsily thrashed around on the bed only to fall off hitting the ground with a loud ‘thud.’

“What? What?” He said hastily massaging a spot on his back where he must have fallen.

“We fucked up.”

Surprise Visit (Pt 2)- Derek Hale/ Big Bros Sam & Dean Winchester (TW/SPN Crossover)

Originally posted by itsokaysammy

Request// Can you please do part two of surprise visit? -@imadangerouscause

*So this was sent to me by that beautiful person above 2 months ago, and sadly I’m just now getting to it, I hope you enjoy it and aren’t so mad at me xoxox*


(Part 1)

“So the rooms are clean and there’s beer in the fridge,” Derek reassured you as you watched over your phone.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. We shouldn’t have done this,” you said, nibbling on your nails.

Derek gave a low chuckle as he came up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. “They’re your brothers, Y/N. They’d show up whether we wanted them to or not.”

Usually you would be taking the role of the joyous host while Derek would try to think of a reason to uninvite any guests to the loft, but Sam and Dean were different circumstances. Who knew that your overprotective brothers would love your overprotective boyfriend (possibly even more than they loved you)? While Sam and Derek became close after helping one another with information on the supernatural, you teased your oldest brother about his bromance with Derek. Dean and Derek would be texting back and forth constantly about cars, and sports, and you so much that Derek would be more likely to know where they were in the country than you.

You were pulled from your thoughts as soon as you heard the impala roll into the parking lot below and you phone vibrated with a notification. We’re here.

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