reading good porn in public like
but on the inside being like
I CACKLING SO HARD RIGHT NOW AND MY DOG IS LIKE WHY
How many… notes is that…?
The last time I saw this was when it was at ~50 notes….
SOMEONE SEND THIS INSANITY TO JEFF DAVIS RIGHT NOW OMFG
SAID THE WHOLE INTERNET
holy crap! the numbers though
Derek sinking down onto Stiles’ cock, whining through his teeth while Stiles guides him down slowly. (*≧▽≦)
Derek riding Stiles slowly, forehead pressed against Stiles’ so they can share lazy kisses. (*≧▽≦)
Stiles gritting his teeth against the need to push Derek onto his…
Well there goes the rest of my night.
Sometimes… sometimes there are nights when Derek remembers how it feels to be a beta. Sometimes when Stiles whispers softly against the shell of his ear, he remembers the feel of submission. He remembers how to bare his throat, eyes closed and breathing shallow as he waits to be commanded.
Those are the nights that Stiles takes his time. The nights when his palms smooth over Derek’s skin in the wake of his clothing. He can feel the flex of muscles beneath Derek’s skin everywhere his fingers touch, everywhere he presses his soft lips to the heat of Derek’s body. He traces every line he can find, in a pattern, like a map, and Derek writhes, hips lifting into Stiles’ hands as they wander ever lower.
Stiles huffs a laugh, because Derek isn’t even aware he’s doing it, arching his back, seeking more, seeking contact, seeking Stiles. “At least its not your hands again,” Stiles murmurs, thumbs following the line of Derek’s cock over his underwear. The noise Derek makes is almost unfair enough to make Stiles give in, to let Derek ignore the order to keep his hands at his sides.
To let Stiles do whatever he pleases.
To take commands for once, let go of his responsibility.
“Stiles,” Derek groans and whether it’s a demand or a plea it’s broken over how badly he needs this. The firm drag of Stiles’ nails over the cut of his hips is not helping.
A smile curves Stiles’ lips and Derek can feel it against the line of his inner thigh. “I love when you’re like this,” Stile tells him, warm breath feathering across Derek’s skin. “Pliant,” he adds and delights in the twitch of Derek’s hips.
Derek’s breath hitches when he feels Stiles’ tongue, when he feels the way Stiles mouths at the fabric keeping them apart, runs his nose along Derek’s length, hands sliding back up. When he feels the scrape of nails at the edge of the cloth, he meets Stiles’ golden-brown eyes, watching the blaze of desire behind that gaze as Stiles watches him. Stiles tugs gently and Derek’s hips lift almost of their own accord, in response to the silent command.
His last vestiges of clothing disappear over Stiles’ shoulder.
“Better,” Stiles almost hums a moment before his mouth descends.
Stiles teases him, supple, wet lips just barely making contact as he huffs out warm breaths along Derek’s length. Derek bites his lip against a whine, but it leaks out and Stiles’ lips twitch against Derek’s cock. Derek’s fists clench and unclench at his sides, fighting the almost unbearable urge to reach out, to run his fingers through Stiles’ hair.
Stiles’ tongue begins to dart out, tip just barely lapping at the pre-cum dripping down, and Derek’s hips lift into the sensation involuntarily.
"Ah ah ah," Stiles whispers as his face pulls back, wagging his index finger. He places his hands on Derek, long fingers splayed along the crease between his thighs and crotch, thumbs tickling Derek’s balls. "Stay put," he breathes out as he presses his weight into his hands, forcing Derek’s hips down.
Derek’s head falls back against the floor with a soft thud and a huff of breath. Derek’s mouth hangs open, jaw twitching open and closed uselessly as Stiles noses along the underside of his dick. Stiles’ tongue winds its way around the thick base and Derek’s blunt fingernails dig into the floor beneath him, scraping as he lets out a “Ughnngh.”
The warm, slick tongue unwinds slowly as Stiles circles Derek and Derek realizes how heavily he’s breathing, like he just ran a mile, his chest heaving up and down. Derek tips his head, twisting it a bit so that he can look at Stiles. Stiles’ eyes are closed, nostrils wide, lips shiny and red. Derek watches Stiles work, his entire body going taut as he tries to control the explosive sensations.
Derek fights to keep his arms pressed down beside him, just dying to caress Stiles’ face, brush over those lips, fingers itching to curl into the soft hair. Even his blunt, human fingernails are digging into the skin of his palms and the faint scent of blood mixes with the sweat and heat and passion.
"Stiles, I need-" he begs, breath still huffing out, making his voice rough. "Please."
"Shh, Derek," Stiles whispers, hands squeezing and fingers curling, causing Derek’s cock to twitch and his breath to catch. "I’ve got you." He rubs his soft cheek against the inside of Derek’s thigh, soothing. "I’ll take care of you."
White-hot tendrils shoot down Derek’s spine to bury themselves in his lower belly. His back arches into it, keeping his hips and shoulders obediently down and he looks down his body at Stiles.
Those gorgeous, golden eyes lock onto Derek’s and don’t let go. Derek is mesmerized, watching with wide eyes as Stiles lowers down again, eyes flashing excitedly at Derek and maintaining eye contact as he parts his lips with a soft pop and swallows him.
AKA the teen wolf fandom as a whole
powerless nogitsune in his true form (◡‿◡✿)
quick doodle about the recent discovery about derek being the “king” :)
— sorry 4 the flat colors and the hands anatomy XD it was just a quick thing XD —
ps: the “merlin” fan should be able to notice that the crown is exactly from “merlin”. :)
transparent kawaii hoechlin, i just couldn’t resist ;____;