"Once upon a time,” Stiles began, and Thomas sighed happily, resting his cheek in the hollow of Stiles’ shoulder. “There was a gangly, clumsy, freckle-faced young boy, and a beautiful, majestic wolf —”
“You mean, there was a beautiful, brilliant, amber-eyed boy, and a half-starved, mangy-looking wolf,” a voice interrupted. “It looks like I made it just in time, huh?” Derek said with a conspiratorial smirk at Thomas. “Gotta make sure you tell it right.”
“Yeah, Daddy!” Thomas parroted. “Tell it right!”
“Okay, okay,” Stiles sighed, settling his arm across Thomas with his hand resting on his husband’s waist, thumb drawing an absent-minded little circle. “Once upon a time, there was a probably-going-to-grow-into-his-looks-just-fine young boy, and a very lonely wolf…”
Bookmarked by prettyboys4me
19 Sep 2017
Derek watched as the black tattoos swirling down Stiles’ neck to his arms glowed and moved around his skin. He knew the lines on his back would be writhing in rage at the insinuation that Stiles couldn't take care of himself, and Derek knew he was going to lose this fight.
Or, when a challenging pack is toying with the Hale's, Stiles takes it upon himself to seek them out.
"you’re having a really bad day and look up and kinda say, “please, please, please, someone help me”, and one minute later a guy with little horns pops up from NOWHERE and just goes, “man, you don’t know how fast angels are. like, daaaaaamn. can you believe I am feeling the tiniest bit exhausted? WOW”
apparently the Devil’s son heard your request and had to fight several angels just to arrive first and be your helping “guardian” because “you’re cute”."
I saw this post on tumblr like an hour ago and this story is the result.
Stiles never feels more like a wrung out slut than when Derek has him spread out and gasping for it, dripping wet and moaning into the pillows. The rough words roll over him, ghosting along the peaks and valleys of bone and sinew, lodging in the base of his skull and the tip of his uncomfortably hard and untouched cock.
"Fuck, Stiles. You're so tight. So wet. So desperate for me."
A nip of sharp teeth along Stiles’ jaw stings pleasantly.
"You're mine, aren't you, baby? Tell me. Tell me you're my dirty little slut who spreads his legs any time I want."
So suppose Stiles slept every night with his plush wolf doll, to ward off bad dreams. Only that doll was Derek under a spell, and he came alive in Stiles’ dreams. Specifically, in the type of dreams that involve coming.