stiles kissing down derek’s hairy chest and then his stomach, acting incredibly sultry and smooth, until he reaches derek’s belly button and pauses for a second—looks straight into derek’s eyes—and then blows a huge giant raspberry there before derek shoves him off the bed (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)
teen wolf is on top of their advertising game this year
madison are u implying derek hale has an std
is that why he looks so sad
werewolves probably don’t have std. Like any.
He is sad because None of these fit.
NONE OF THESE FIT. OH MY GOD
Super, now I can’t get super-sad!Derek out of my head, who sits alone in his bathroom, trying on condoms.
He probably talks to his dick while he tries on a bunch of different condoms varying in size, color and flavor.
this post is fifty shades of perfection and I can’t name them all
Stiles heard muffled, angry muttering coming from the bathroom. The door was half-cracked, so he didn’t think to knock before he opened it.
"Derek what are you- OHMYGOD,” he nearly brained himself trying to slap a hand over his eyes. Derek was sitting there, naked, on the edge of the bathtub, with what looked like about fifty different condoms and their associated wrappers scattered on the floor around him. “What the actual fuck are you doing?” he asked, as Derek picked up another, and began to try and open its wrapper with his teeth.
"Nothing," he grumbled, completely ignoring the fact that he wasn’t wearing any clothes in front of another person, let alone Stiles. Who totally wasn’t looking at him through the gaps in his fingers or anything creepy like that.
"Then why the hell are you sitting here," Stiles removed his hand, and ignored the way that 1) his ears were suddenly the temperature of the sun and 2) all his blood was beginning to pool in his southerly regions at the sight of naked, frustrated Derek, "Naked, growling at what appears to be an entire pallet of condoms?” Seriously, there were even a few boxes already tossed into the trash. He’d been at this for some time.
"None of these fit," Derek growled, still working on the wrapper of the one Stiles had seen him pick up as he walked in. It was neither adorable nor heinously sexy. Nope. Not at all.
Stiles scoffed. “‘none of these fi-‘,” he repeated, finally stopping to consider what that meant. He looked down, and his eyes widened. “Wow, I can see why.” Derek growled.
His cock was massive. He was hard, Stiles noticed, but the weight of it kept it settled on his thigh, head pointing toward his knees. The tip was starting to collect little droplets of pre-come. Stiles’ mouth went dry looking at it, and he suddenly wondered how the whole thing would feel bottomed out against his throat.
"What?" he shrugged, suddenly conscious of Derek’s glare. "There is no way you are ever gonna get that thing into a condom designed for… smaller equipment.”
"They’re all made for smaller equipment,” Derek snapped. Stiles cocked an eyebrow.
"Wait a minute, have you never-"
"No," Derek grumbled, finally giving up on the condom wrapper he’d been working on. He tossed it aside. It was apparently wrapped in unobtainium or something. "I never really needed to, what with being a werewolf and all."
Stiles shrugged, as he shuffled around several boxes of flavored, scented, and textured condoms that Derek had stacked on the counter. “So why start now?” Derek shrugged.
"Figured it was probably a good idea." Stiles abandoned his search. The one type he was looking for wasn’t there. He sighed, and pulled out his wallet, to the emergency condom he’d placed there earlier today. The one that would probably expire before it saw any action.
What? You gotta be prepared, right?
"Well, if you’re gonna use ‘em, I’d suggest this one." He handed Derek the condom. Derek’s eyebrows of doom shot up on his forehead as he read the ‘XXL’ on the wrapper. His dick twitched. Stiles’ definitely did not do the exact same thing in response. "It’ll fit, at least. And it helps if you have someone help you put it on for you." Derek leveled an intrigued look at him, before standing up, grabbing Stiles’ hand, and leading him from the bathroom without another word.
super nsfw so click if you dare
derek being totally speechless and holding his breath when he first holds his and stiles’ daughter in his arms (◡‿◡✿)
derek letting their daughter wash his hair with her mulan shampoo while he’s giving her a bath (✿◠‿◠)
derek almost having an aneurysm when he sees her holding hands with some boy in kindergarten when he comes to pick her up (◕‿◕✿)
derek tearing up at her first recital and telling stiles he has something in his eye when stiles tangles their fingers together and looks at him fondly surprised (｡♥‿♥｡)
derek giving their daughter’s first date the judgemental eyebrow raise when he comes to pick her up, then annoying stiles the entire night, asking him whether he thinks they’re doing it already in the backseat of the guy’s car or not and how stiles and derek should kill him (ʘ‿ʘ✿)
derek being the most concerned adorable dad ever (ﾉ♥‿♥)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
"He can do it!"
#i still really love this scene for the fact that Derek let Stiles wind him up#totally played into it #and then pretended like it wasn’t him #the little shrug at Scott like ‘what?! i didn’t hurt him’ #and Stiles’ cross little glance at Derek like they’re so INTUNE to each other #all the way through 3A #it’s nice to watch when you condense to just their scenes #because it’s like watching a married couple bicker and pull each other’s pigtails #but then SHIT GETS REAL and they get mad at each other and yell it out #but they always seem to come back to one another #and have each other’s backs #and do dumb things like make fists and squabble #and really they’re just a domestic moment away from hugging #and then pretending it did //not// happen #except both of them won’t be able to stop thinking about it #won’t be able to stop pondering over the fact they KEEP having these moments where it’s all about each other #where they notice each other #come back for each other #believe in each other #maybe consider one another kind of PACK #and worthy of their time and like the two strangers that stared through the metal cage of a police car grill have come pretty far #and maybe kind of like each other #w/e man this scene is so dumb and ridiculous and i hate it because it makes me feel things in my OTP toes (via halesparkles)
Julie suggested that I might want to write about Derek the difficult matchmaking client for Failwolf Friday, and you know … I KIND OF DID?
(I’M SORRY, HE DOESN’T FAIL AS HARD AS HE MIGHT’VE, I DID ALL I COULD.)
“Look, your brochure clearly states—”
“Do not quote the brochure at me, man, seriously, don’t do it.”
“—that if you can’t find a match, there’s a money-back guarantee.” Derek leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow. “And do you usually talk to your clients like they’re your frat brothers?”
“I do when I’ve taken them on as a favor to an old friend,” Stiles snaps, tossing his tablet onto the desk with a force that makes Derek fight back a wince. Those things always seem so freaking fragile to him. “But hey, if that’s what you really want, I can absolutely refund Cora’s money. I’ll make sure to call her and let her know exactly why I’m doing it: he pain-in-the-ass, uptight big brother couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort to so much as try to make this work. And then she’ll tell Laura, and both of your sisters will be on your ass about it until the end of time.” His smile is sharp and merciless, and Derek shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Sound good?”
Derek crosses his arms, pressing his lips together into a sharp line that does not constitute pouting, no matter what his sisters say. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m not engaging in deliberate acts of sabotage here, the dates were just bad.”
“Yeah,” Stiles sighs. He pulls off his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t actually surprise me. I looked over the profile you put together again, and there are some areas of—”
“What are you—”
“—some areas of concern,” Stiles pressed on, glaring him into silence. “Come on, dude, why are you even here if you don’t want to find someone?”
“My sisters …”
“I don’t know Laura that well, but I know Cora’d get over it if you decided this wasn’t for you. I can talk to her for you if you want, tell her this is just making you miserable. This is my business, okay, my time is worth too much to keep wasting it on these meetings once a week if you’re just doing this to keep them quiet.”
“Why is this your business?” Derek blurts out, and Stiles blinks back at him.
Derek shrugs tightly. “When you used to come by the house when you and Cora were in school, you never seemed like … I just never would’ve pegged you as the matchmaker type. It’s weird.”
“Oh. Uh, I guess … I don’t know, it’s kind of like a license to be professionally nosy, right? So it was either this or private investigator,” he grins, “and this pays better.”
“Right.” He shifts in his chair again and sighs. “What concerns?”
“You said you had concerns about my profile. What are they?”
“Right. Yeah! Okay!” Stiles slides his glasses on again and pokes at his tablet as he talks, fingers flying over the screen. “Your dates haven’t been going well, and I think I’ve narrowed down the problem.”
Stiles grins up at him, crooked and obnoxious. “You’re a freakin’ liar.”
Derek bristles. “Excuse me?”
“Okay, look, under Interests, you listed ‘working out’ and ‘healthy eating’.” Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s all.”
“Yeah … so?” Derek glares back, defensive. “Those are the things I’m interested in.”
“Right, first of all, no they’re not. Those aren’t things that anyone is actually interested in.”
“Just because you wouldn’t know a free weight from a Big Mac—”
“Woah, hey, I am at the peak of physical health,” Stiles protests, spreading his arms wide. “My metabolism is like a freakin’ teenager’s, okay?”
“Sure,” Derek snorts. “Okay.”
“Anyway,” Stiles says with a glare. “Pretending for a minute that you’re not completely full of shit—and pretending that I didn’t see you finishing up a king-sized Snickers bar right before you came in today, you fucking phony—those can’t be your only interests. What kinds of people have your dates turned out to be, huh? Health nuts, whose most interesting topic of conversation is the calorie count in a low-fat raisin muffin?”
“You’re the one who arranged those dates,” Derek points out, and Stiles tosses his hands in the air.
“Because you’re not giving me anything to go on here, dude! Come on, you’ve gotta work with me.” He leans forward over the desk, unnervingly earnest, without any of the evil, teasing glint in his eyes that Derek generally expects. “One date, okay?” he says, and Derek’s heart gives a single hard thump before he goes on. “Give me something real to work with, and if the next date I find you isn’t at least a little bit better, I’ll refund your sister’s money and buy you a whole box of candy bars. Deal?”
Derek lowers his eyes to glare at the desk, but after a moment he manages to grudgingly say, “Gogol.”
He sighs. “Gogol. Nikolai Gogol? I like Russian literature.”
“Okay. Okay, uh … wow, yeah, I wouldn’t have pegged that one.” Stiles taps something into his tablet. “That’s a start. We know you like chocolate,” he says, glancing up with a grin. “What else?”
“This is stupid.”
“Suck it up. TV shows?”
“I don’t watch a lot of TV. By the time I get home from work all that’s on is crap. I tried Netflix for a while, but they never had anything I want to watch.” He shrugs again. “I like quiz shows a lot.”
“That’s …” Stiles glances up again, and quickly back down. “Cool. That’s cool. What about movies?”
Derek opens his mouth, closes it again. “Just—movies. Whatever I’m in the mood for, I guess.”
“God, just—Star Wars, maybe one of the classic Bond movies.” He works his jaw for a second, debating with himself, before letting out a resigned sigh. “Jackass,” he admits. When he looks up again, Stiles is staring at him. “What?”
“Do you wanna have dinner with me?” Stiles blurts out, and immediately flushes bright red.
“Did …” Derek stares back. “Did you just—”
“Is this your answer to finding me a date?” Derek demanded, and Stiles’s eyes go huge and horrified.
“What? No! No, I wouldn’t, I absolutely wouldn’t. You’re just … my friend’s big brother, and I always had sort of a crush on you, and … god. Sorry, that was stupid, it’s just that Cora said—
“I’ve had a thing for you since your freshman year of college.” It’s Derek’s turn to go red, now, even as Stiles’s wide-eyed surprise turns to the sort of giddy grin that means Derek will be getting shit over this for basically forever. “When you and Cora came home over summer break, and you and all your friends would come over to go swimming in the lake just inside the preserve.” Oh god, oh god, why was he still talking?
“You know, you were my last appointment for the day.”
Derek swallows. “All right.”
“If you maybe wanted to get some dinner, and then … I’ve got Star Wars on DVD at home.”
“It’s the Limited Edition ones, with the remastered original versions,” Stiles adds, and Derek’s heart just sort of flips over in his chest.
“Yeah,” he says, starting to smile now, as well. “Sounds good.”
MEL YOU ARE A HERO AND I LOVE YOU BYE
The first time Stiles rides Derek, it’s make up sex.
He’s still angry, still ridiculously fucking angry, tearing at Derek’s clothes and biting bruises onto his jaw, doesn’t even watch to see how they heal like he did over the summer. He’s a constant thrum of more, more, more, raking nails over Derek’s skin until his own fingertips ache.
And he would’ve fucked Derek this time around, really would have, but there was something comforting in knowing that Derek could fuck him, that Derek wasn’t dead, wasn’t dead like everyone had thought he was.
Wasn’t dead and thought it was no big deal, not to say anything. Thought it was, what, a ‘hey, I’m not dead, miscommunication, sorry.’?
Well. Derek thought wrong. Shocker.
Stiles’ palms tremble as they shove Derek back onto his bed, and Derek goes, of course he fucking goes, and it becomes a scramble to rip off his own clothes and crawl onto Derek, eyes pleading.
Derek doesn’t do anything but press a palm to Stiles’ back, and fuck.
Stiles controls the pace this time around, hands planted firmly on Derek’s chest as he snaps his hips in quick, hurried rolls, quiet sounds passing from lips, leaving both of them breathless. There’s so much he wants to do with Derek and it shakes him to the core to think that there’s a possibility it’s not going to happen.
He wants to make milkshakes with a faulty blender that explodes all over the kitchen and Derek, wants to have sex with him in his ugly new car, wants to give him a blow job against the table where everyone plans in the loft, wants, wants, wants, and Stiles isn’t going to give it up without a fight.
It isn’t until Stiles moves his hands to Derek’s shoulders and bends forward, tired of the relentless fucking, that Derek does something other than roll with Stiles. He slides both hands down the smooth dip in Stiles’ lower back to his ass, slowing the pace down to something deeper and slower and actually like make up sex, not angry sex.
(Looking back on it, when they’re both okay, Stiles will sort of realize he may have gotten a 2-in-1 deal that night.)
Derek licks Stiles’ sweat-slicked skin, runs his lips over the shell of Stiles’ ear, kisses the hollow of his jaw and sucks a bruise onto Stiles’ neck, and it’s too much. Stiles wants to be angry, wants to be furious. Wants to fight and fuck and scream, but Derek’s moving at a maddeningly slow pace, and it’s so good Stiles can feel it in his toes. He’s aching with it.
They fuck until Stiles is begging for it, cock dragging between their bellies and it’s not enough; Derek’s not speeding up and the way his orgasm builds is almost painful. He comes loudly, sinking his teeth into Derek’s shoulder. There’s white hot pressure at the pit of his stomach and his whole body tightens around Derek, who gasps out an apology against the side of Stiles’ throat.
Stiles’ spine tingles as Derek comes, pressed so tightly against him that he can feel Derek’s heartbeat, can feel the twitch of muscles in his stomach, slowly rolls his hips three, four, five more times until they’re both trembling. And his mouth moves quietly along the fading bite marks, kissing his own apology into the skin, lips burning an invisible brand against it. He’s moving his face over, then, over until he has a cheek rubbing against a stubbled jaw until it prickles red.
There’s a moment of silence before Derek’s tipping his head down, gently nudging Stiles’ face up with the subtle presses of chin and nose, until he finally, finally has Derek’s lips on his for the first time since late July.
Derek licks into Stiles’ mouth something soft and tender, and oh, oh god. Derek knows. They both know. This isn’t some summer fuck, not anymore. To be honest, Stiles doesn’t really know if it ever was.