You know what my favourite thing about first time fics are? Whether it be the first first time or the first time with each other?
The morning after.
The morning after where they wake up sleepy and happy (and very sated), maybe even a little nervous, wondering if the other is going to try and leave, if this is actually something they are going to get to keep.
Waking up and the other person is gone, only for them to walk into the room that exact second carrying a breakfast tray and wearing the other person’s clothes from the night before and their heart just fluttering because you remembered I like butter andchocolate spread on my toast.
That first lazy morning kiss, one of them trying to pull away because morning breath but the other one not giving a damn and deepening the kiss just to make a point of yes, I love you this much.
Morning cuddles where they just hold hands and stare at each other for an embarrassingly long time.
Forehead kisses, blankets and cartoons, each of them thinking that yeah, they could get used to this forever.
Shared morning showers, laughing and teasing and so goddamn domestic they have to engage in a soapy kissing battle just to deal with the amount of feelings they are experiencing before they explode with them.
Feeling happier than they have been in a long time.
Just a little morning after drabble I had floating around my head. Sterek. 1k.
Derek wakes on the 9th of April to warm sun and soft sheets and a newly minted 18-year-old snoring into his ear. His heart trips over itself then kicks into double time, and Derek rolls onto his side, nose just inches from another one.
Stiles is on his stomach, arms curled up under his pillow, left leg bent up at the knee and hips pressed into the mattress. The sheet is draped low on his waist, the curve of his ass just peeking over the top, and with the hazy morning glow skating over all that pale skin he looks like something otherworldly. Something ethereal, angelic, pure.
Stiles snorts in his sleep.
Derek muffles a laugh in his pillow and wonders just what the fresh hell he was thinking.
He leans up on his elbow and gently drags his nose from Stiles’ temple into his messy hair, breathing in the scent of him. Stiles smells like sugar and cream and cake flavored vodka. He smells like ink and grass and something metallic, the Jeep or his Adderall or his numerous electronics. But all of that is secondary to the scent of salt and sweat and sex. He smells like Derek.
Stiles being insecure about his body is one of my major headcanons
actually, mostly because I genuinely think Stiles has major self esteem
problems. Actually, there is no denying that, especially in scenes with
his dad. Couple that with the fact we never see Stiles shirtless and boom, thoughts like this start floating around my head.. I mean, if were were to see Stiles half naked, that side of the headcanon could pretty much be thrown out the window because
HELLO
Yeah,
Stiles could still be insecure, insecurity isn’t non-existent just
because you look like THAT, that isn’t how body confidence works, but in
my head Stiles kind of strives to hide his body because he’s maybe
embarrassed by it. He wears clothes that don’t show him off, but hide
him. He changes as fast as possible after practice, not even letting
Scott see him.
He never used to think much about it really.
Scott always shared the same body type as him, but then the werewolf
thing happened and Scott started working out and the abs came easily and
Stiles…well, Stiles is still struggling with the suicide runs.
Everyone he knows is pretty much perfect and while logically Stiles knows there is nothing he has to be ashamed of, that his body is his body and he shouldn’t and doesn’t have
to change it, he can’t help but feel, well, down about it. For all his
talk about wanting sex- and god, does he want it- the thought of being naked while having sex is a different story.
In
clothes he’s fine, and there are very few situations where he has to be
out of them in front of anyone, and while he is constantly reminded of
what he sees as huge body flaws in himself compared to others- pale
skin, an embarrassing amount of moles, more boyish definition than man-
he learns to live with it. He doesn’t even masturbate naked, or in the
light, so really it’s all going pretty well for him. He learns to ignore
the problem, hoping one day it will just magically go away. After all,
that’s his preferred method for most things.
That is until he
starts dating Derek. Derek and him come about out of the blue, really.
Looking back, Stiles sees how it was a long time coming, that both of
them may have been dancing around each other in ignorance for a crazy
amount of time (five years to be exact). But the moment it happens
shocks Stiles’ whole system, taking him completely unaware. One second
they are arguing, and the next Derek is kissing him. It is an angry kiss
and at first Stiles is convinced Derek has gotten so mad at him it was
either kiss him or punch him out of the need to do something, because
words were growing futile at this point, but when Derek pulls back from
him, his eyes scared, hands trembling slightly, Stiles just pulls him
right back in because fucking godammit he knows then. HE KNOWS. Why didn’t anybody tell him he is in love with Derek?
Kissing Derek is fine. More than fine. It’s fan-fucking-tastic. Their mouths fit together like there are fucking meant to be or
something equally as corny. Making out is just as natural and Stiles
isn’t even ashamed to say he has come in his pants more times than he
can count now.
Of course, bliss never lasts forever and when
Stiles moves Derek’s hand away from sliding under his shirt when they
are kissing on Derek’s couch one day to stop him from feeling the skin
there, moving it to his neck instead, Derek pulls away completely from
him rather than just going with the flow.
“What?” Stiles asks, trying to sound annoyed and confused, although he knows exactly what.
“Stiles,”
Derek sighs. “It’s not that I mind going slow. In fact, I really like
slow. But, is something wrong? Every time I try to-” he nods in the
direction of Stiles’ shirt- “you stop me.”
Stiles swallows.
He wants to fight Derek on this, claim he has no idea what he is trying
to get at, but Derek isn’t good with words and Stiles doesn’t feel right
about making Derek work for the answers. Plus, Derek will just hear his
heartbeat beytray his lie anyway, right?
“I hate my body, okay?”
he mumbles, averting his eyes. “And please don’t tell me I have nothing
to hate, or that I am being stupid, because that won’t change anything.
It’ll just make it worse.“
Derek stares at him for a moment,
but Stiles doesn’t meet his eyes to see his expression, holding his
breath instead until Derek finally just whispers “okay”, and goes back
to kissing him, keeping his hands beside Stiles’ head exactly where
Stiles likes them. Stiles knows Derek isn’t just going to let the whole
thing go, but it’s nice to pretend it is that easy while he kisses him
back with everything he has got.
At first, Stiles doesn’t notice the changes Derek starts making. Or rather, the comments
he starts making. The brief kisses followed by phrases like “you’re
beautiful” or stealing a bite of Stiles’ breakfast, cutting off his cry
of protest with something like, “you’re so fucking gorgeous in the
morning”.
Derek is far more playful than he used to be- it’s a
little scary sometimes, but entirely welcome as far as Stiles is
concerned- so Stiles just rolls his eyes when Derek says these kind of
things, not even considering them as compliments, even if they do make
him feel kind of good (in a totally non school girly kind of way, alright?)
That is until Derek starts saying them not so casually.
It was @hoechlinslapsdylansbutt‘s birthday yesterday and because I am awful, I changed my mind about the plot of her birthday fic half way through writing it despite the fact I was literally only writing her porn. (I have issues, shhh, leave me to them.) So here it is, a day late. You are a wonderful person, Bells, and as a thank you, please accept some virgin, bottom!Derek from me to you!
“Wow,” Stiles whispers, biting down on a grin.
“What?” Derek asks, frowning.
“I’ve just never seen someone who wears leather blush so hard before is all.”
The comment makes Derek blush even further and Stiles can’t help it, he winks, just to see what
will happen. Call him an asshole, everyone does.
He doesn’t expect the sound Derek makes- something close to
a whimper- nor the way his cock visibly twitches in his sweatpants. Huh. It
looks like Stiles owes Erica twenty bucks.
When they graduated high school, Stiles didn’t just come
away with kick ass grades and a knowledge of Star Wars trivia that is notuseless, Scott, thank you very much. Apparently
he came away with sex appeal.
Stiles isn’t exactly proud to say he’s fucked more people
than he’s gotten to know in the past couple of years, but hey, he always takes the
time to learn names and even an interesting fact or two before getting down and
dirty, so that’s got to count for something, right? (Sure, sometimeshe only remembers to ask for a name so
he isn’t calling out the wrong one when he’s coming, but that’s only when he’s really drunk. He’s pretty sure that
still counts for good manners.)
“So,” Stiles says, rocking back on his heels a little, the
silence making him uncomfortable. “How do you want to do this?”
“How do I want you to take my virginity?” Derek’s eyes widen
and the blush extends to his ears. It’s freaking adorable. “Gee, I don’t know, Stiles. That’s why I asked you.”
Stiles rolls his eyes, but decides Derek has a point. Stiles
isn’t exactly sure how, but he’s got a bit of a reputation for good sexual etiquette.
He didn’t know it was such a rare thing to have, but apparently it is.
Apparently most guys are “selfish asshats” in bed. Stiles would like defend his own sex, really
he would, but he’s watched enough movies with Lydia and bought more than enough I’m-sorry-he-was-a-jerk
ice cream for Erica and Isaac, to
know he wouldn’t have much of a leg to stand on if he tried.
So, here he is. Stiles Stilinski. Major in Criminal Law and,
evidently, that special lovin’ feeling.
“Okay, well, last night you said you wanted me to”- Stiles
pretends to read his hand- “pin you down and fuck you until graduation.” He
grins, winking again, just to see Derek bite his lip and make that sound again. Holy shit. “I’m not sure I
have the stamina for that, but for you baby, I’ll give it my best shot.”
Derek grimaces, burying his face in his hands. “I was
drunk.”
reminder that you should be writing virgin!derek fic right now
JEEZ QUIT YOUR NAGGING HERE HAVE A COLLEGE AU:
“Okay, now you look like you’re ready for sex!” Stiles declares, fingers warm against Derek’s neck as he fiddles with his shirt collar
And god, Derek’s had so many fantasies that start exactly like this—the two of them alone in their dorm room; Stiles crowding in close, smelling like sugar and Red Bull and the sandalwood shampoo he always steals out of Derek’s shower caddy; Stiles touching him, saying ‘sex’ to him in that silly, exaggeratedly-lascivious way he always does that makes Derek’s stupid heart go all syncopated.
Except this isn’t one of Derek’s fantasies. Because Stiles is talking about sex with somebody else.
“I need you to get a little bit more excited about this party, Hale,” Stiles is saying, moving his hands up to adjust Derek’s hair. His palms brush the edges of Derek’s ears on the way, and Derek shudders and clenches his teeth. “Wow, okay, interesting approach. You can try glowering at people until they sleep with you, but I’ve never had much success with it, personally. It might work for you. You’ve got a killer jawline for scowling, dude.”
“I shouldn’t go,” Derek says, not for the first time.
“I went out on so many limbs to score us invites, Derek! Hot sorority girls. Everywhere. More sorority girls than you can shake a stick at! Which, in this case, is a strikingly appropriate if inelegant idiom.”
“You’re the worst,” Derek reminds him, fondly, “and I’m requesting a new roommate.”
shealwaysreads 