SCREAMING. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF VILLAIN PLACES A FUCK OR DIE CURSE CONTINGENT ON RIMMING? sPOILER: it me. It is always me. I am the villain. Eat Stiles out or I shall cook all the children in my cauldron and eat them for dinner.
IMAGINE? IMAGINE?? IMAGINE STILES TURNING OVER, REDFACED AND EMBARRASSED, PREPARED TO ENDURE, BECAUSE NO ONE’S EVER DONE THIS TO HIM BEFORE AND HE CAN’T—HE CAN’T IMAGINE LETTING GO ENOUGH TO ENJOY IT, NOT AFTER CATCHING THE LOOK ON DEREK’S FACE—GRIM, MISERABLE, UNHAPPY. But the first touch of tongue to Stiles’s hole is soft, gentle, not what Stiles was expecting at all. He had expected something more perfunctory, following the letter of the curse efficiently, but that’s not what’s happening. Derek’s thumbs are spreading him wider, holding him bare and open and his hot, wet tongue is tracing everywhere, around his hole, down his taint and behind his balls—and Stiles thanks every deity that he’s a stringent bather after lacrosse.
He’s getting hard, and he doesn’t know what to do about it, whether he should be embarrassed, whether it’s crossing a line, but Derek’s tongue is in his ass, so he’s not sure they have any more lines to be crossed. He’s thinking about slowly, carefully reaching for his dick when Derek’s tongue stabs in, surprising a low moan out from his throat. He flushes even redder, because now Derek will know, it has to be making a horrible situation worse.
Derek just hums, in approval maybe, touches the tip of his finger against the rim, tapping like he’s asking a question. Stiles can’t, he can’t say the words, but he spreads his knees farther, tilts up and Derek must take that as a good enough response because a finger is wiggling in where Stiles is slick and messy, and Derek’s licking around it. Stiles isn’t even trying to hide his noises now, just ah ah ah and mortifying whimpers that seem to get Derek working hard, faster.
Stiles is losing it, the plot, the thread, his sanity. He’s not going to come like this, he isn’t, this is what—but he is. Derek presses two fingers in, spits in between them, and fucks in with his tongue again, and Stiles can’t help it, he comes.
Derek releases him once Stiles has stopped shaking, guides him down onto his stomach, finds a cloth from somewhere and wipes him up. ”Sorry,” he says, after a minute. ”I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.”
Stiles rolls over to stare at him, uncomprehendingly.
The look on Derek’s face is ashamed and horrible. ”I should have asked you what—what you wanted.”
"You just lost it when you got a glimpse of the old Stilinski butt," Stiles says, fumbling, lost for how to say thank you.
Derek tenses, looks wrecked. ”Sorry,” he says again.
Breathe. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Just breathe. Breathe, and remind yourself of all the times in the past you felt this scared. All of the times you felt this anxious and this overwhelmed. All of the times you felt this level of pain. And remind yourself how each time, you made it through. Life has thrown so much at you, and despite how difficult things have been, you’ve survived. Breathe and trust that you can survive this too. Trust that this struggle is part of the process. And trust that as long as you don’t give up and keep pushing forward, no matter how hopeless things seem, you will make it.”
okay so imagine an au where the potters live. harry dates oliver wood briefly. james hears of this and pulls harry aside. stares him in the eye with a deadly serious face
“he’s a Keeper”
You made an entire AU that would alter almost every facet of that series
For a pun
You’re a beautiful person.
this blog tries to be a teen wolf but it's mostly dylan o'brien and pretty things (like dylan o'brien)