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Links 1 through 10 of 424 pokeitwithastick's Bookmarks

It's the summer after Stiles' first year of college, and he's working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he's okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn't care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he's just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

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I have this fantasy.

And maybe it's Stiles' favorite one. And maybe it's been buzzing under his skin for the longest time. So he makes a post about it. There’s nothing shameful about that. That's what blogs like this are for. He expects most of the responses he gets - the supporters, the enthusiasts, the creeps.

But the simple message: Would you trust me to give you that?

After that, all bets are off.

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Derek waits until the door is shut behind him before he turns around. He holds out his hand, plants his ‘if you’re not weird about it, I won’t be’ smile on his face and says, “Nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m Michael. What kind of a good time are you looking for tonight?”

Or, the hooker!Derek fic of my id.

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“Dude, you should totally come with me.”

“What? Like on the road trip?"

“No, come with me. To Austin. Get out of Beacon Hills.”

Derek paused. “What?” he asked again.

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“You like happy endings, huh?” Stiles says, lying pressed in against his back, sliding his fingers along the edge of Derek’s chest, along his ribs and up his sternum.

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Stiles is gay, out and proud, and a Beacon Hills deputy. Derek is a firefighter and war veteran who thinks he's straight; or, Derek and Stiles have lots of semi-public hatesex on the road to Love.

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Derek sighs, frustrated, not yet willing to resign himself to his fate of an arranged relationship even though it’s seeming more and more inevitable.

He forces the whole ordeal out of his mind and stares hard at his laptop, re-reading the same sentence over and over again, trying to stare it into submission, when a familiar scent distracts him, jolts him out of his pitiful attempt to focus.

Through the heavy haze of rich coffee and warm cookies that fills the café he can smell that weed-tinged spice and fresh citrus, cool rain water and the slight hint of another werewolf. Vivid memories flash and fill his senses: the way that scent sweetened with mouth-watering arousal, the solid, steady thrum of a wildly quickened pulse, running his tongue over intricate tattoos, throaty mewls of pleasure punctuated with muttered curses and pleas not to stop, a firm, tight ass bouncing against his thighs.

Stiles Stilinski.

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“Derek, my man, you missed an epic party on Saturday. Seriously, dude, I know morning Mass is like, your thing, but come on. You’re missing on out so much life has to offer, bro.”

Big hands land on shoulders with a thump and a squeeze while Derek stands at his locker, loading his gigantic calculus book into his backpack. He gives his best friend a practiced sidelong glare, which of course just encourages him. “You’ll change your mind when I tell you who sucked me off in Lydia Martin’s bedroom,” Stiles snickers into his ear.

Despite himself, Derek is curious. He tries to hide it by focusing on his books, but he knows the heat in his cheeks betrays him. “Who,” he asks, giving in, knowing he will eventually.

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Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha, is thrown into a dark cell which already contains another captive. Someone quite young. Someone who's clearly been badly treated. Someone who cannot speak and who has a cruel collar around his neck.

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“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

Haunted wolf figurines

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