sterek truth spell fic where they both get whammied and at the risk of retaliation Stiles asks Derek, in true Stiles fashion, “are you attracted to me?”
And Derek pauses a moment before answering, “parts of you.”
Stiles’ eyebrows shooting up and before Derek can say anything he asks, “what most?”
Derek answering, “your lips,” before shooting back, “yeah? And what about you?” Not so much upset as slightly put out, it’s familiar to Stiles.
Stiles doesn’t have enough time to truly process the whole lips thing, before he responds, “your deadpan humor.”
And both of them are equally surprised by the others’ answer. Especially, Derek. Very especially Derek.
Also basically Stiles becomes obnoxious about the lips thing when he puckers them at Derek at every opportunity, until Derek finally just kisses the smug grin off his face.
Later, when Stiles is sprawled atop Derek after they’ve been making out and dry humping on Derek’s bed, Stiles says, “I mean I’m definitely attracted to all of you. I just don’t want you to think that I don’t think you have a hot bod.”
Stiles’ dick is still hard against Derek’s hip.
“Thank you, Stiles. I was worried.” Derek deadpans.
Quick sterek plot bunny: Stiles likes his oversized shirts, right, and at one point he sort of by accident manages to go completely overboard and buy one that’s MASSIVELY oversized. But despite the fact that it billows around him like a circus tent he kinda likes it? Maybe it has the exact right nerdy print on the front, and maybe it was a limited edition something and this was the only size left? Who the fuck knows.
In any case, Stiles loves that fucking shirt, and he’s gonna wear it, dammit!
Cue Derek Hale having a big fat problem. In his pants. Because now Stiles is walking around the loft every other day with at least one shoulder bare because the damn shirt keeps slipping down. There’s just… so much skin. So much delectable neck and bitable shoulder, it’s more than any wolf should have to bear, okay?!
Of course Stiles is completely unaware of his allure, and remains unaware until Derek fucking loses it and there’s probably some hot and heavy grinding against a wall or something. IDK.
Someone (not me) should write it.
You made me this!! Well not literally but good as!
Talking about Stiles and ridiculous pet names, what if he calls Derek his ‘little chocolate croissant’ because Derek once said that chocolate croissants are his favorite thing in the world
Today’s photoset is dedicated to the amazing @foreverblue-navy who makes the most amazing photosets ever. I love your work, Beth!!! ❤ (Sorry the fic got kinda angsty; I was having too many feels)
Werewolves have an autumn full moon festival for lost souls. It comes around on the first full moon in autumn and werewolves from all over America travel to the small lake in a forest near Beacon Hills to light floating lights and set them on the water to represent the souls of all the wolves they’ve lost to the Hunters.
Derek never went to any because he would have had fourteen candles to light and he knew he couldn’t do it on his own.
That is, until Stiles comes home with a dusty old tome and tells Derek about the festival he already knew about. At first Derek doesn’t say anything but then he reaches for Stiles’ hand, intertwines their fingers and swallows. “I never could have lit fourteen candles by myself. But if you’re willing to come with me, I think I can do it,” he says in a small voice, not meeting Stiles’ eyes.
“Oh, Derek,” Stiles whispers, squeezing his hand tightly and leaning in to hold him close, “Of course, I’ll come with you. Of course, I will.” Derek smiles against his shoulder and leans in to breathe in Stiles’ scent deeply. He may never admit it but it calms him down like nothing else can.
So they take a road trip to the site of the festival. They trek through the forest, Stiles in his hiking boots, Derek in his wolf form. They reach the lake by twilight and Stiles stands at the edge of the water, fascinated by all the wolves and their friends and families, while Derek goes to buy the candles.
When he returns with fifteen instead of fourteen, Stiles stares and is just about to ask why when Derek hands one to him.
“For your mom,” he whispers in the fading light of day as Stiles looks at the red wax candle in his hands, “Loss is easier shared,” Derek explains simply, giving Stiles a small, sad smile.
Stiles turns the candle over in his hand and notices that Derek has had her name engraved on it too. He swallows as his fingers trace over the familiar string of letters and then he looks up, his eyes shining with unshed tears and throws both arms around Derek’s neck and buries his face in his neck.
“I love you,” he mumbles into his skin and feels the rumble of the words in Derek’s throat before he hears them.
Derek has a neck kink like no other. Not that Stiles has anyone else to compare that last statement with but given the amount of attention the man gives his neck, he figures that its got to be a given. Especially after he’d cornered Scott and asked him if it was some werewolf thing to want to leave so many hickies and marks on your boyfriend or girlfriend’s neck until it looks like a purple and red mess. Scott had given him a confused frown before telling him no so.
Derek has a neck kink.
Now, this doesn’t mean that Stiles is complaining cause fuck you, he isn’t. What’s there to complain about having soft lips, scuff and teeth kissing, nipping, teasing you so much that you’re just a puddle of your former self trying to become one with the couch? Nothing at all, that’s right.
The problem is the part after the vigorous and thoroughly enjoyable necking. The part that comes after Derek stealing one last kiss from his lips and he passes a mirror. Stiles has complicated feelings about that.
Because on one hand, it’s clear as day that a. Derek is seriously into him (like the erection he keeps grinding against Stiles’ wasn’t a dead away for that) and b. he likes to mark Stiles like whoa. But on the other hand, it means having to wear make up to conceal all the marks that Derek deliberately places so high up his neck that Stiles can’t even cover them with a high neck shirt. Unless of course he wears a turtleneck but who the fuck would wear a turtleneck in the middle of the fucking Californian summer?
Derek had strenuously objected to the make up. And by that Stiles means that there had been a lot of silent glowering involved before he had dragged Stiles into the bathroom, scrubbed his neck raw before dropping feather light kisses on the red skin.
“You know…” Stiles begins, tipping his head back with a happy sigh when Derek’s lips kiss his jugular. “Considering the fact that you keep leaving behind all these hickies, you should be the one paying for the concealer I keep needing to buy.”
The werewolf mumbles something into Stiles’ neck. It sounds like a no and Stiles knows that he should care but Derek’s doing this thing with his teeth that’s making all his common sense go bye bye and little Stiles go ‘hello! hi there! pay attention to me right now, thanks!’ “I’m serious!” Stiles insists breathlessly, hands clutching at Derek’s shoulders. “I get that you wanna show off that I’m getting some, and I’m down with that! But given how many marks you leave behind, its like… you might as well make me wear a collar that’s says ‘Property of Derek Hale’ on it or something.”
Stiles blinks in surprise at the poster across from him as Derek freezes. He jumps and swears that he doesn’t yelp when Derek’s hands tight on him and pulls him in tighter. Stiles pulls away a few inches, feeling a little dizzy now that he’s straddling Derek’s thighs and lap and their crotches are aligned just right for some prime grinding. But what really gets his attention, and makes his head spin, is the utterly wicked look in Derek’s pale eyes. He looks ready to eat Stiles in the best way possible.
“Shit.” Stiles moans, fingers sliding up Derek’s shoulders with a new sense of desperation before they grab the back of his head and pull him in for a searing kiss that makes his spine melt. “Totally getting a collar.” He groans into Derek’s mouth, swallowing down his answering moan like a heady sip of whiskey. Derek’s hands slide under his shirt, clutching at his shoulder blades before biting down on Stiles’ lips.
Couple turned business partners Eliad (goldsmith) + Maya (Product and Architectural lighting designer) first met in India. From their unexpected love affair, they traveled through Africa and the Far East, where they immersed themselves in local traditions. Abroad, the couple explored color and age-old jewelry-making techniques passed down through the generations of tribal cultures.
After being exposed to modern,cutting edge technology of jewelry marking, such as 3D printing CAD, they’ve developed a set of unique and contemporary rings on their shop Cadi Jewellery.
Their collection of promise rings, engagement rings and anniversary rings are made of gold, sterling silver and lots of love. The “Wedding Engagement Ring” collection is designed as a puzzle, which implies the feelings of finding you other half and soul mate. Find them in theirEtsy shop.
IMAGINE IF YOU WILL – sterek getting these as their wedding bands. With whichever little design you prefer and cue Derek really liking the idea of them really only making sense together – right? Two sides of the same coin, two half of one whole etc.
Stiles though? Stiles does (not so) secretly love all that side of it. What he really gloats about to anyone that will stop and listen? Is that they get to fist bump in order to get the design to line up.
He prefers to keep it just between the two of them the way his heart still skips a beat when Derek holds his hand, fingers interlaced, and their designs match up in-between their palms. Their secret, private little moment of seeing the visual representation of they way they so perfectly line up and complete each other.
imagine the Sheriff risking his life to save Derek and Derek is just like not used to that. And worse better still, he expects Stiles to be upset about it. To chastise his father for risking his life at all, let alone for Derek.
Except, Stiles is all pale and shaky and sweating and he keeps grabbing the edge of Derek’s sleeves, at his wrist, like he’s afraid to let go.
Imagine Derek being a part of a family and not even knowing it.
Stiles needs a pillow to sleep. He also hogs the blankets. It drives Derek crazy, because he rarely ever sleeps with a blanket and Stiles somehow builds a blanket fortress and Derek can’t even spoon him anymore.
They figure it out one particularly warm summer night, the air so humid that even Stiles throws the blanket of the bed. As the temperatur finally cools down during the night, Stiles rolls closer to Derek, too lazy to pick the blanket up.
Stiles abuses Derek’s chest as a pillow and his body heat as a blanket, but Derek doesn’t mind. At all. He can finally hold him close.
shealwaysreads 