could you please please write something with model!stiles and just derek can be anything. like a photographer. or his agent. or a fan. idec please niamh PLZ ilys <3


"This is not what we contractually agreed to, Duke, and you fucking know it.” The sentence is punctuated by - what sounds like - a fist connecting with wood, and Stiles cocks his head before nudging the door open.

Erica is sitting on the edge of the plush leather couch, legs crossed delicately while she taps at an iPad. Her eyes find Stiles as he enters the room, but what his gaze is immediately drawn to is the set of his agent’s shoulders, pacing back and forth in front of the water cooler, phone to his ear, stalking the room like a caged lion.

He’s never seen Derek like this.

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tweet dirty to me


For this Sterek pornstar au request at wolfprompts. Explicit-y.

Stiles Stilinski isn’t one of the most well-known, highly paid adult “models” in America, for nothing. Just because he won both “Best Mouth” and “Best Ass” in 2013 doesn’t mean he’s not smart, because he is, and Stiles dominates social media like nobody’s business, promoting his newest videos, his art, his other buddies in the company. He talks to fans on a regular basis through his Twitter and is quite popular for his witty commentary on life in general. 

So Stiles is a little surprised when he finds he keeps getting tagged in things that he has no clue what its about. Apparently he has quite a large fanbase from… what is this, a supernatural TV show? His Twitter handle keeps getting bundled along with their hashtag, so he investigates. He scrolls through his mentions, trying to figure out why his last video with Dale Cooper keeps getting linked. People are very excited about it and keep tagging it with this thing, is it a name? Stiles isn’t very good with portmanteaus, but he figures it’s a pairing on the show. 

where’s @daledoesporn these days? apparently we have fans from #alphagames

Stiles’ tweet breaks his personal record for number of favorites and retweets within the hour. Man, he had no idea there were so many of these fans out there. He’s amused by all his mentions, from omg @stilesdoesporn totally knows!! asdfdjkjl to get @stilesdoesporn on the set of @alphagames immediately so he can act out all our dreams!!

By the time Dale responds, Stiles’ phone is nearly dying from all the notifications he’s getting. 

@stilesdoesporn what’s #alphagames

@daledoesporn we look like two of the characters??

Stiles plugs in his phone to charge, scrolling through the usual lewd comments for some interesting questions he can answer hopefully before he goes to bed. There are a few people who keep asking him about this Derek Hale guy, the actor on that Alpha Games show, so Stiles does a quick internet search.

Whoa. Yeah, Stiles is all about that. Derek bears a slight resemblance to Dale, body-wise, and they share similar facial hair so he can see where the fans have definitely latched onto that, but all Derek’s photo stills radiate powerful intensity and his eyes, damn. He’s got incredible eyes. 

Stiles types out a quick response, a considerable hum emanating from his lips as he settles into bed. 

@aLphaaaaaaaa yes, i would totally do @DerekHale. he can be my alpha any day yumm

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sterek au: record halestiles sees a help wanted sign in the window of the record shop derek owns.

happy birthday to my tumblr bff, foreverblue-navy! you are the best and deserve all the awards for putting up with my fandom whining and ranting and flailing, and all my real life stuff too. thanks for being my cheerleader and my friend <3 since this is one of many sterek aus i’ve promised to write you, i thought i’d give you a taste of your “derek owns a record store” idea until i have time to turn it into a proper fic :D


Stiles is walking towards the coffee shop on the corner, counting the change in his pocket and hoping he has enough for even the smallest cup of coffee. But he’s distracted when the hand-written HELP WANTED sign in the nearby window catches his eye. The script is messy, written in a thick black marker. The store sign painted on the window simply reads Records. Plain. Understated.

Stiles looks at the change in his palm, fifty cents short of a basic cup of black coffee, and enters the store. How hard could the job be? Nobody even listens to records anymore.

The store is small and cluttered, but in a homey sort of way. Shelves upon shelves of vinyl lined the walls, and crates were sitting randomly in the floor. There is a guy on the floor with huge headphones plugged into a turntable, listening to a record and bobbing his head. A couple of girls are browsing through the shelves.

As Stiles makes his way towards the back, he catches sight of a display of cassette tapes, and is that – omg 8tracks. Stiles leans on the counter, taking it all in while he waits for someone to notice he’s there. The song playing overhead is familiar. Some seventies rock song he thinks his mom used to listen to.

He’s combing through his internal music database when an extremely hot guy walks out from the back. He’s wearing a black Johnny Cash t-shirt, a loose grey cardigan pushed up to his elbows, and tight jeans. Stiles tries not to slip in his drool. It’s no better when he raises his eyes and sees dark stubble and black, thick-rimmed glasses. He has to work here, his sex life demands it.

“Can I help you?” The man sounds more angry than helpful, and Stiles wonders if trying to apply for a job in a tiny, hipster record shop while wearing his lego Spiderman t-shirt was the best idea.

The man is still glaring, so Stiles stupidly blurts out, “Is this America?”

The guy’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at Stiles like he’s an idiot. “I mean, the song, not the country. I mean, duh, I know we live in America. ‘Ventura Highway,’ I think?” The man nods, but says nothing else. Stiles can’t stop from staring at his eyes, so bright and odd behind the spectacles. After a few awkward, silent moments, the main raises his eyebrows in question. Stiles is pretty sure he has spoken more with his eyebrows in the last few minutes than with words. “I was here to apply for the job.”

“It’s yours.” The man turns and starts back inside the back room. “Be here tomorrow at 11.”

“Wait!” Stiles yells, and the man halts in the doorway and glances over his shoulder. “That’s it? I just get it like that? No application, no interview, no social security number and references and tedious work history?”

“Do you want the job or not?” the man asks, exasperated.

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims, and the man looks like he’s already regretting his decision. “But why?”

The man shrugs and points to the ceiling. “America. You’re the first person who came in here who recognized my music and didn’t wax poetically about how shit like Bruno Mars and Katy Perry is actually fucking music or try to impress me by mentioning some hipster bullshit like Radiohead, LCD Soundsystem, or goddamn Lana del Rey.”

The man disappears into the back, and Stiles is left there, mouth agape.


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 Anonymous ASKED:
  Oh my gosh, Stiles following Derek around whenever he's sad. That is so fucking adorable what the fuck. I need someone to write this please oh my god


Derek comes home to a quiet house. The lights are off, the television’s silent, and there’s no take out boxes on the table, no loud greeting or big hands flying to catch his face for Stiles to kiss him hello. 

He’s just a little concerned. 


There’s a grumble from the couch, and Derek kicks off his shoes, pads into the living room to where there’s a full on nest of blankets and pillows. 

"Did you relocate our bed?"

"Shit day," Stiles murmurs, toes sticking out over the couch arm. Derek squeezes his foot as he passes, tosses off his jacket and drops down to the floor. 

Stiles peeks out from under a blanket, gives him a doleful smile, “Hi.”

"Hey," Derek runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair, and Stiles’ eyes flutter shut as he sighs, reaches out to grab Derek’s wrist. 

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In Flames

In Flames

Dangerous Things
PSA: This is actually a WIP. Totally missed that&#8230; Whoops.

Dangerous Things

PSA: This is actually a WIP. Totally missed that… Whoops.

 Anonymous ASKED:
  Hey! I was wondering if you have any post season 4 fics?

I realized I haven’t added a tag post season 4 tag. So, here you go! There aren’t a lot… Mostly everyone has completely ignored season 4. Here’s what I could find that has to do with after season 4, (and if you check this tag it’s the fics that take place during season 4.)

That’s New (oneshot: 2,458: Mature)

Stiles missed out on seeing Derek’s transformation, so a few days after Mexico, he goes to see for himself.

(trying to) break through (oneshot: 5,507: Explicit)

At first, it’s just sex.

It’s good sex – Derek comes every time, Stiles comes every time, says things like “whoa,” and “do that again, yeah, yeah, like that, fuck,” – but still: it’s just sex. They don’t speak much, at first. They don’t kiss as much as bite down on each other’s bottom lips and breathe heavily into each other’s mouths when they’re about to blow their load. Derek is not sure if it qualifies as kissing at all. He’s not sure if he wants it to.

(He’s not sure why he wants it to.)

All the Ways… (oneshot: 8,021: Mature)

Stiles is pissed off and hurt. Of course it’s Derek’s fault. It leads him to go and find Derek and things get a little out of hand.

Going Nowhere (oneshot: 4,003: General)

It had been nearly a week since the shit had hit the fan.

 Anonymous ASKED:
  sterek being reunited after surviving the zombie apocalypse unknowing if the other was alive or dead AU. my soul needs this


3rd April, 2013 2015 we had sex in a broken down car wash. can check off steamy hand prints on a window from the bucket list. FUCK YEAH.

Stiles kept a log of everything. The camp stopped counting days, calendars were useless, phones had no signal, time was measured purely in trips in and out of the gate. Footfall, heads at tables, mouths being fed, those were what mattered to the Sheriff, to everyone in charge. It didn’t make a difference if it was a Tuesday or a Thursday. 

But, Stiles needed something to commemorate the day, to have it written down, and Derek found a journal on one of their scouting trips, brought it back and tossed it on the bed. 

"To stop you scraping damn notches on the bed post," he’d remarked. 

Stiles had laughed, smirked at him even as his eyes were fond and filled with gratitude, “Everyone else thinks they’re for something else.”

"They must think we have a great deal of stamina," Derek had replied, dropping down on the lumpy mattress. 

Stiles had hummed, run dirty but gentle fingers through Derek’s hair, “Or, that we’re desperate and frantic at the end of the world.”

"Is that why you kissed me last year, then?"

"Nope, I would have done that eventually; I’ve always been desperate about you, obviously."

"Obviously," Derek had repeated drily, buried his face in Stiles’ thigh, listened to him write something on the first page, his heartbeat fill the room. 

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Sour Kush

Sour Kush

We Got Something Magic

We Got Something Magic