viventakbar:

-The King and The Queen-

Derek : “So…”

Stiles : “What?”

Derek : “I’m your king now”

Stiles : “How did you kn…?”

Derek : “Wanna be my queen?”

Stiles : “///////////”

Derek : “:)”

me : “i just wanna see they do fluffy, adorable, cutie pie, cuddle, hug, kiss, making out, coming out, whatever it is and watch Derek’s sun bright smile like Hoechlin when he with Stiles at the end of this chaos season. dammit i just wanna STEREK so badly”

If this is torture…

sterekruinedme:

on AO3

“Can you do me a favor?”

Derek so did not like when Stiles
tried to use puppy eyes on him. Everyone knew that Scott was better at
it. Scott looked adorable, Stiles looked-

Puppy eyes shouldn’t look like that! They shouldn’t make Derek wanna push him onto his knees, this was so wrong.

“Fine,
what is it?”, he sighed. Anything would be better than looking into
those wide doe eyes. They looked like melted chocolate in this light and
Derek really should focus on something else.

“Do you remember Mary?”, Stiles asked, his eyes still pleading, but not that wide anymore.

“That girl from your chem class? Yeah, why?”

Stiles shuffled with his feet a bit, looking onto the ground. “She asked me out.”

“Okay?” Derek frowned, not getting how this was bad. Stiles was always complaining that he wasn’t getting any after all.

“And
I couldn’t just say no, okay? She is such a sweetheart, so I tried to
let her down easily, but she just wouldn’t get it and then I blurted out
that I was gay. And she laughed, which, seriously? Rude. I could
totally be gay. I mean I am kinda gay, bisexual actually. Anyways”,
Stiles trailed off, laughing nervously. “I kinda told her that I have
boyfriend. So I need you to fake date me. Please?”

Derek blinked
once. Twice. Tried to process all that information. Blinked again.
Stiles was still staring up at him, biting his lip and it was so goddamn
distracting.

Keep reading

So i’m not saying that the reason Derek decided to let his chest hair grow was because he started dating Stiles and Stiles found out he waxed and was like ‘wtf man first of all pls stop with the pain as an anchor thing it’s very sad but also I really love your chest hair I think it’s so sexy and obviously it’s your choice but it’d be very hot if you decided to let it grow’ and so Derek blushed and threw away the wax… That’s not what I’m saying at all…

pale-silver-comb:

I feel so bad about letting so many beautiful things like this pile up in my inbox over the past 6 months. Guys, I am really, so so sorry. If you have sent me something I promise I’m getting there! Also eeeeeeeeeeeep. I love this, nonnie!

“Stop.”

Derek turns around, watches as Stiles practically falls into bathroom.

“What are you doing?” he gasps.

Derek frowns. “Waxing my chest? What are are you doing?”

“Stopping you. You’re hairy. I didn’t know- jesus.”  

Derek feels himself blush, does his best to cover it up by raising his eyebrows. For whatever reason, that always seems to distract Stiles. “I am aware of that,” he says. “That’s why I wax.”

Stiles’ mouth falls open and Derek tries not to get distracted by it. It’s been harder to ignore his feelings towards Stiles lately, especially now that he’s eighteen. Hypothetically, Derek could make a move. Hypothetically.

“Derek, I swear to god, if you do not put that pot of wax down right now I am going to cry.”

“Why?” Derek asks, confused now. “You wanna do it? Practising to become a beautician or something?”

Stiles narrows his eyes, but quickly averts them. “No,” he whispers. “I just…” he mumbles something too low for even Derek to catch.

“What?”

Stiles looks up at him and Derek doesn’t know why, but a rush of heat courses through him, settling in places he really doesn’t want Stiles to know about.

“Ihaveahairkinkokay?” he groans, throwing his hands up in the air. “Happy now?”

“What’s that got to me with me?”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “Oh, for the love of-” and then he’s striding forward and pushing Derek back against the sink, kissing him deeply.

“Wha-” oh. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Stiles smiles, taking the pot of wax from him, putting it to one side. “Let’s stop pretending we don’t want this, us, shall we?”

Derek nods dumbly, heart pounding.

“Now,” Stiles smirks, although Derek can smells his nerves, “if you don’t mind, I would really like to explore just how much hair you have before you wax it all off. Please, if that would be, uh, okay with you.”

Derek grins, burying his face in Stiles’ neck, breathing in. “More than okay.”

~

(Spoiler: He never waxes again. Not with the way Stiles looks at him.)

If you’re still doing prompts, “finally”. Really enjoy your writing; congrats on the followers!

troubleiwant:

SO THREE FOUR MONTHS LATER, have some PWP! Semi-related to @mad-madam-m and @pale-silver-comb‘s ongoing saga of Derek Hale being rimmed into self-acceptance, but with added BDSM ❤


Where it goes wrong is the point where Derek says Stiles’ name.

He’s so fucking close to coming, all wound up and sensitive, thighs literally trembling under Stiles’ broad hands as his boyfriend does that one thing with his tongue, lathing the tender underside of Derek’s cock while he sucks him down. He’s so close to coming, a heartbeat away from it.

Only he says Stiles’ name, whimpering the syllable like a benediction. He can’t help but make the sound even though he knows he shouldn’t, and that’s it: Stiles’ mouth is gone instantly, his hands too, every source of friction, pleasure, potential release.

Not that Derek couldn’t still come. He’s on edge enough he doesn’t need to be touched, he could give himself over to that shuddering completion so easily. But…

“No,” Stiles says, all sharp authority.

Derek forces himself to obey almost on instinct and then the chance is lost. He’s painfully hard, arching wantonly despite himself, twisting on the sheets, begging for it with his body as well as his voice – Stiles, come on, please, please Stiles, let me, so good, please. He’s not sure he’d be able to resist the urge to reach down and bring himself off, fast and rough, except that his hands are tied above his head. It wouldn’t be that much of a deterrent in itself – just simple rope to their headboard, nothing werewolf resistant.

He’s perfectly aware, though, that Stiles would make him regret it.

Keep reading

Voicemails

acountrygirlsfun:

@pale-silver-comb made this post and then I had post-season-5-feelings so this happened 🙂 

It just became a thing they did. Stiles knew Derek needed to get out, needed to get away. Stiles knew better than a lot of his friends and could understand how much it would help Derek to get out of Beacon Hills and the hellhole that it is. But over the course of all their interactions Stiles had started to trust Derek, had started to rely on him. Stiles had gotten a hold of Derek’s number just for emergencies but he didn’t have to resort to theft to always have Derek’s latest number because Stiles became the first person Derek shared it with.

So even though he has a connection to Derek, Stiles doesn’t use it all that often. He doesn’t use it to beg Derek to come back even when he really, really could. He sends Derek stupid shit he finds on the internet. He asks Derek where he is and what he’s doing. If he’s still with Braeden, if he’s happy. Derek always, always responds. Sometimes it takes a couple hours but they both know the texts are their way of making sure the other is still alive. Even if things aren’t perfect on either side, they’re alive and that’s the most important part.

Derek doesn’t lie to him. He doesn’t sugar coat things. He rants in a voicemail and tells Stiles how sick he is of driving. How he knows he will probably come back but he just can’t stomach it yet. They need to find Kate and Peter; he needs to see them dead and gone for good before he trusts himself to settle in Beacon Hills for good. 

He and Cora fight sometimes.

Whenever that happens Stiles gets a voicemail of Derek complaining about younger siblings and they don’t understand and she’s so spoiled Stiles. She got taken in after the fire right away as soon as she’d stopped running and she didn’t want for anything. Laura and I survived off soup kitchen and homeless shelters for a whole year, Stiles, before the insurance money was cleared and we could afford to stop and stay somewhere, afford to actually buy groceries.

But he always sends a second voicemail saying how much he really is glad to have his sister. That he’s glad she didn’t have to live like he and Laura did. That for as much as they irritate each other they’re happy to have each other.

Stiles was the one that started the voicemail thing, and he does it more often than Derek really ever does. But Derek’s life isn’t as driven by insanity as Stiles’ life in Beacon Hills is anymore. At the beginning he’d sent Derek a text that read: “I just need to vent to someone I know understands but I don’t want to just throw this shit at you so just don’t answer your phone and let it go to voicemail.  It’s your choice if you want to listen or not. Don’t feel like you have to.”

It used to be stupid stuff over the summer that Derek would listen to as he worked in the yard around the house he bought up in New England. But things changed when Stiles left a message ranting about some guy named Theo and how Stiles doesn’t trust him, something is off and Stiles knows he’s up to something. It had been amusing initially because it was just such a Stiles reaction. But after all they’ve been through, Derek knows this isn’t some misguided knee jerk reaction to someone new coming into their group. If Stiles got this worked up it means he’s got a reason, and most likely, Scott didn’t want to listen until Stiles had more proof.

Derek had been settled in the little cottage in New Hampshire since the spring when he got that first voicemail about Theo. He’d wanted to really experience a New England fall and was determined to do so. Stiles didn’t have to know he listened to the message. Didn’t have to know that Derek was always waiting for the next one, waiting for a call for help.

Stiles kept sending him his normal comments on his day or his dad but Derek got an increasing amount of voicemails left on his phone.

Somebody is making supernatural creatures. Creatures that don’t have to follow the supernatural laws they should. There’s a halfhearted joke about the laws being ‘more like guidelines anyway.’

Scott’s trying to be a leader without actually using the people he’s leading to help him. He’s trying to just do everything, figure out everything by himself.

(He doesn’t get a voicemail from Stiles that people are dying but he does get a text from Scott that if he’s heard anything about it not to worry that they’ve got everything under control. He doesn’t need to come home. Derek had appreciated Scott’s words, he knew Scott didn’t mean that Derek wasn’t welcome but they both knew things would just be weird between them because of the power shift. That it would take an adjustment period before they would ever be able to be in the same pack.)

The voicemail that has Derek almost packing up and jumping on a plane is the one that starts with Stiles’ voice coming through so shaky and vulnerable Derek had had a bag pulled out of his closet before he even heard the words, “I killed somebody.”

He listens to the whole message though before he does anything rash. He listens as Stiles pulls himself together, rationalizes that even if he has to tell Scott eventually, it was self-defense. It was self-defense. Stiles was going to die if he hadn’t done what he’d done. Surely Scott would rather Stiles be alive and a killer than let the bad guy kill him. It takes a lot for Derek not to buy a red-eye flight back to California.

But then he gets a second message telling him that Stiles doesn’t want him to come back for him, he wants Derek to come back for himself.

And then Stiles doesn’t text or call for almost two weeks.

Derek wakes up from a deep, uninterrupted sleep to a beautiful fall day and two voicemails.

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice comes through quiet and shaky and Derek already dreads what this message is going to end like. “Theo is worse than I expected him to be. He- he went after my dad. He hurt my dad. And Scott,” Derek hates the way Stiles’ voice breaks. ”Scott he doesn’t trust me, didn’t believe me and-“

There’s silence for a moment but Derek knows, Scott is Stiles’ brother, he’s Stiles’ rock, someone he depends on always being there. He knows what it’s like to have the world pull out from under your feet like this. Peter wasn’t always clinically insane. Derek hates that Stiles has to experience that feeling, that feeling like everything you depend on suddenly shifts and changes and isn’t there anymore.

Stiles’ voice is croaking like he’s speaking through a throat tight with emotion when he says, “I need,” before he just groans and hangs up.

Derek fumbles with his phone for a minute trying to see when the second voicemail came through and listen to it. He knows Stiles’ had been crying before he called back and finally told Derek what he has been waiting to hear.

“I know I always say I don’t want you to come back for me, to-to help me. And I still don’t; I wish you could make the decision if you’re coming back or staying away. But I can’t not ask you to come back because I want your help. I need you here, not across the country listening to my voicemails. Please, Derek, I need you to come back. You don’t have to stay, you can leave again if you need to but I just-”

“I need you here.”

Derek left the cottage within the hour, with one ticket to California and two tickets back to New Hampshire. 

eeyore9990:

The first time Stiles (and Scott and Liam and Malia…the Sheriff, Melissa – basically everyone who was not outside the church in Mexico) saw Derek perform his full shift, evolved form magic mojo, Stiles felt something in his soul splinter.

It wasn’t a bad feeling necessarily, but it sort of hit him all at once. The feelings he had for Derek, the hope and anxiety and fear for him. The exasperation and annoyance and anger.

All of the feelings he’d ever felt for this complicated man expanded and popped like a bubble and left him feeling a little bereft and a lot like he’d missed his chance for something even as his heart swelled with joy for Derek. For finding this thing inside him. For connecting to that piece of his past and bringing it into his present.

He was… not healed. You can’t heal from the kinds of wounds Derek had experienced, not really. Stiles knew that better than anyone. But he was healthy again.

Keep reading

betabutt:

swallow me down, raw like you mean it by bleep0bleep (E, 8k)  

Derek isn’t quite sure what to do, but he can’t look away from the way Stiles’ mouth moves while he talks, and then Stiles’ shirt rides up a little with a particular wild gesture, revealing an expanse of pale skin. The comment I have these in red reverberates in his mind, and now Derek is frozen, imagining the man before him clad in nothing but a pair of lacy red panties.