#isaac on drums

[nowritingonthewall]

Hands? Hands!

OSCAR ISAAC for Brioni

Fall/Winter 2024

[blackhholes]

teen wolf - i think i'm losing

what if I should be losing everything now I think I'm losing everything

[dreamings-free]

.

[milafm2002]

This song Is Very Gwen Stacy ( Spider Gwen ) Coded

It Reminds Me Of That Beautiful Opening Sequence ( my fave Movie Opening Of 2023 )

And The Drums On This Song 👌

[theslowestpoke]

Stiles as the audio engineer with his own studio he built up from a tiny basement to a hole-in-the-wall place that gets clientele only from word of mouth because he can't be bothered to do any promotion on his own, but he's a fucking wizard at mixing and he charges just enough to pay his bills, so most of the local bands have recorded with him at least once and quite a few have done multiple albums with him.

Isaac as the live sound tech who works the circuit of local venues, same as everyone else, and he's been doing it for several years, but he's never lost the joy of discovering new bands and essentially getting to see all the ones you already know for free and making them sound as excellent as possible so someone else can fall in love with them, too. He remembers the names and instruments of bands he's teched and has dumb inside jokes with all the drummers because they spend so much time together when he's doing setup and load-outs.

Scott as the bassist of a long-standing favorite local band who has been trying to get the two of them together for years, because even though all the musicians know them both, they've never had occasion to run into each other. He always makes sure to name drop them to each other when his band is setting up to perform or record and the drummer, Cora, backs him up, but their schedules are always too busy for it to work out.

Luckily, there's a big music festival coming up and Scott begged Stiles to come and record their live set even though he knows Stiles hates doing it, but he owes him a favor. That Isaac is on the schedule as the tech for their stage is totally coincidental and serendipitous, right?

[y2k-2day]

Hanson - Where’s the Love (1997)

[louisupdates]

Steve Durham posts photos of FAITH IN THE FUTURE WORLD TOUR and Grestch drums to Instagram story [21.3.2024]

[cowabunga354]

The band room board is a wild thing

Edit: Part Two

[melto]

have a short reading im stage managing starting tomorrow.....first time they are sending me to a school rather than just working out of the theatre.....

[drfeelgreed]

tag drop 001.

purchase. / edith carmine. use. / begg garrott. collapse. / roy maddock.

joy anger sorrow FUN. / maiza avaro. joy anger SORROW fun. / czeslaw meyer. JOY anger sorrow fun. / sylvie lumiere. joy ANGER sorrow fun. / nile. (smile.) / elmer c. albatross.

oil drum. / dallas genoard. flowers and dominos. / isaac dian. spear and knives and japanese katanas. / adele. rain and a letter and scissors and love and... / tick jefferson. documents and information. storm and terrorists. / rachel jones. the lethal weapons' lunacy is elated. / christopher shaldred. red eyes and red hair. / claire stanfield. slash. / maria barcelito.

[cmonbartender]

The lady drummer - Isaac Israëls

[christinesficrecs]

Also, these gems are still on tumblr for your enjoyment. 🧡💙🧡 here, here, here, and especially this one. Oooh, this one too.

the lunch table configuration | 16.6K | Explicit

When Isaac makes Derek switch lunch tables, the last thing Derek expected was to fall for Stiles.

between the click of the light and the start of the dream | 105.1K | Explicit

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

The Hollow Moon | 180K

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.

Blind Date With A Book  | 30.3K

Stiles thought the Blind Date With a Book trend was a great way to drum up business for his small bookshop. He definitely thought it was a great idea after the hot guy kept returning and buying more blind dates with books.

Derek didn’t know how he kept getting set up on blind dates by his family, or why he kept going on them. The highlight of his night was when the date was over and he could go to the little bookshop in town and buy something to read for the rest of the night. He wanted to read, not date.

This Started As Only Make Believe | 44.1K | Explicit

Derek is trying (and failing) to juggle his career, coach lacrosse, and raise his 5 year old werewolf daughter. When he adds his bitter ex-wife and his daughter's slight attachment to him, Derek knows he doesn't have any time for a life of his own - and definitely no time for the super cute daycare teacher.

Past The Breakers | 40.7K

Stiles and Scott get summer jobs at the exclusive Seawolf Beach Resort, and the last thing Stiles expects is to start taking surf lessons from the hot lifeguard.

This Might Be Irony  | 38.3K

Stiles and Derek have been close friends since the Hale siblings moved in next door after their parents’ death. But Derek’s in the popular group, he’s a star baseball player, and he dates popular Pep Squad captain Jennifer Blake. Stiles doesn’t have any of that, just his skateboard and a hopeless crush on Derek (oh yeah, and his Vote Lydia Martin Prom Queen button). As prom and the baseball state championship grow closer, Stiles and Derek start rekindling their friendship.

And it all begins with two white boards.

heart as black as night | 97.7K | Explicit

It's 1924, and Derek Hale is a bootlegger and runs one of the many speakeasies in New York with the help of his Pack. They don't know, however, that he's also a hitman for his Uncle Peter, a shady Omega with mafia ties to whom Derek owes a huge debt.

Stiles Stilinski is about to graduate from high school and start working at the docks when he stumbles into the Sour Wolf, a speakeasy with lively music, a glamorous jazz singer, and a certain dark, handsome, and moody bartender that Stiles can't stop thinking about.

my heart’s been offline  | 58.8K

31/M/New York. Rich, lays in bed all day, likes to read (aka Derek Hale, son of an Oscar winning actress, brother of one obnoxious reality star and one rebellious fashion designer, hates the paparazzi so much he’s a recluse)

26/M/California. Boring office job, likes to read (aka Stiles Stilinski, co-owner of a 100 acre organic farm with his dad and two best friends, writer of obits for a newspaper, has absolutely no life)

Or, where Derek and Stiles meet online, and Stiles has no clue Derek’s part of a famous family.

I Ran (So Far) | 33.7K

In which Stiles’ summer starts off so badly he starts running, gets pelted by paint balls, and decides he is, in fact, going crazy if he willingly wants to hang out with Derek Hale.

But The World Won’t Stop Turning  | 19.9K

Derek glances at Stiles, who is watching him with a curious expression.

“Oh shit,” Stiles exclaims as comprehension dawns on him. “Everything makes sense now. Derek, I know what the witch did, she cursed you with – “

But before Stiles is able to finish his sentence, everything fades away and Derek is surrounded by darkness.

I'll Be Seeing You | 81.4K | Explicit

In the summer of 1941, with the country on the brink of war, diner waiter Stiles meets Derek Hale, an army soldier just passing through Beacon Hills.

Babcia Knows Best | 11.8K

Stiles takes his grandmother to bingo every Thursday. Now there’s a new guy calling out the numbers, and his grandmother has decided to set them up.

Wild Horses | 78.9K | Explicit

Derek's a drifter with no home, no destination, and no will to live. Stiles works on his family's failing cattle and horse ranch while all his friends are going off to college. When Derek falls asleep in a random barn, exhausted and half-starved, he doesn't expect to wake up on the other end of the sheriff's shotgun. And Stiles sure as hell doesn't expect his dad to invite the drifter in for breakfast.

no aphrodisiac like loneliness  | 19.7K | Explicit

Stiles is 27 now, with a master’s degree and a career and a house and a serious boyfriend and a life in San Francisco that doesn’t include Derek. But then Stiles unexpectedly shows back up in Beacon Hills, and Derek would recognize that scent anywhere.

[dreamings-free]

2/8/24

[zeroxs-stuff]

Give me tough love.

SAVE PALESTINE^

☆summary: abby’s anger and frustration gets the best of her as your attempts to get her to snap finally takes effect. She has no choice but to discipline you in the only way she knows how, tough love.

☆content warning (?)/tags: angry sex, gagging, lesbian sex, use of strap, use of the word “cock” for strap, doggy-style sex, face fucking, aggressive sex, crying kink, (mild) dumbification kink, incorrect use of a couch.

☆pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

!nsfw under the cut!

She couldn’t take it anymore. The fuck were you doing—? being so god damn stubborn.

First, it was the missions. You had almost risked getting bitten by an infected just so you could ‘show off’ apparently, like that would ever work in a life or death situation. Then it was patrol; you begged and pleaded to isaac just to let you come with anyone else that wasn’t manny—because of course, you just can't handle two seconds without being able to fucking complain today, which she related to in most cases—but in this one? It was too fucking much. And oh my god, that isn’t even all.

All day, youve been teasing her and making fun of literally everything and goodness—she loved you with all her heart, but she really could not fucking take another word from you—not today.

As you were just about to make another aggravating complaint about how annoying Manny was yesterday when you and him were on patrol together, her inhumane thoughts paired with your speaking was interrupted by her own voice. She turns around to look at you, “baby— could you just—please, give me a second? I’m working.” She says in a cold and stern tone, getting back to writing her reports in the nick of time before you could say anything else.

But to her not surprise, of course you didn’t shut up.

You whined like a little kid—a cheeky smile plastered on your face as you resumed the mission of bothering her, “Hey..don’t be like that.” you demand as you tug on her strong and unmoving arms, “Can’t you just do the reports later or something?” you said while your face lit up with amusement.

She couldn’t fucking handle it anymore.

She got up from her chair with a loud thud, angrily walking to you and her’s shared bedroom and loudly opening one of the drawers.

Which just so happened to be….that drawer.

She closed it just as loudly as she had opened it, in her hands held a strap that she would usually use on you—and considering the circumstances, that definitely was going to be the case today.

Her steps to you echoed through the room like a drum. She was practically fuming as she attached it onto herself, making sure to do it quickly because she couldn’t handle another second of your mouth running over, and over, and over again.

Within a split second of your panicking state—you realized what she was gonna do, and you knew in your mind that you had to stop her aggression from getting any worse because god forbid , you were about to get your shit rocked.

She took you by your waist and dragged you onto the couch, making you drop down on it harshly.

The image of her lubricating her strap came into view and your vision started going hazy. You attempted to protest—to ask for mercy before your limbs were about to go numb because of her.

You tugged on her arm as sorry whines came out of your mouth, trying your hardest to persuade her. “A-Abby—please, ‘m so, so sorry—“

Your words were cut off when she shoved the strap down your throat.

She sighed deeply in relief, “Fuckin’ finally.” She said, shoving it in deeper just to taunt you as you heard the squelch of the strap being pushed inches down your throat.

She put her rough, calloused hands and put them behind your head, grabbing your hair so she could support herself easier. Meanwhile you were being forced to take it with tears streaming down your eyes; your gag reflex being triggered but having no choice but to just take it.

You looked up at her with glossy eyes, some tears even falling down to your chin. You couldn’t say anything—not with this god damn strap down your throat.

She chuckled at the sight, it was an understatement to say she was so, fucking satisfied. She put her other hand on your face, cupping your cheek, “Poor baby..what? Can’t talk ‘nymore?”

You cried on her cock, but slowly getting used to the feeling of having something so big down your throat. You couldn’t let anything out but twisted and muffled mumbles and cries, “Nnggghh—” You whimpered in an attempt to get her to pull out of you.

She only shoved herself deeper—grabbing the back of your head and shoving herself in, consoling you in the most humiliating way possible, “shhh..it's okay doll, just let it happen.” she laughs while leaning down and whispering in your ear, “you were meant to be down there anyway.”

You whimpered in pain, though.. but you actually started enjoying it.

She took her fingers and shoved them deep into your scalp, taking a big portion of your hair and pulling back so she could thrust into you deeper. Your body obliged to her requests—taking her almost perfectly. She smiles and lets go of her grip on your hair as a reward, a sign of mercy. “Atta girl, that’s it.”

she mumbles, “Just let it happen.”

Just as you were starting to get used to the discomfort, she pulled out of you which caused you to let out one of the most painful sounded yelps of your life. You cough in surprise, “M-Mph—o-ouch..” you said, rubbing your throat.

She wanted to shut you up yet again. To your surprise, she kissed you roughly–though keeping her hands at a gentle pace, because of course, she wouldn't want to actually hurt you. But her words spoke harshly in contrast, “did i tell you you could talk?” she says while making sure to tug at your hair a bit.

You barely had time to react because just as you were about to speak, she pulled away and shifted gears to turning you around and shoving your face in one of the couch pillows, making you bend over. You felt your back arch forcefully at the cold contact of her hands on your waist–those same hands practically folding you in half, instinctively listening to whatever she wanted you to do.

As you were fully bent over–face down, your bottom half on full view for her, she leaned over you and gave you stability; her punishing and intimidating demeanor almost fully vanishing as she checked for your physical state as well as your consent, “you okay with this?” she asks worryingly while rubbing circles on your tummy with her hand, and patting you on the back with the other. You chuckled at the switch of her attitude, “mhm.” you nodded.

Despite your agreement to her conditions, she still needed confirmation. She asks again in hopes of a reassuring answer, “are you sure?” she says.

You smile and give her a small kiss on the cheek, leaning back a bit since the position wasn’t the best for kisses. “Promise.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ☆ɞ⋅ » ──────»

God, you wish you didn’t fucking say that.

Because next thing you know, your brain power was long gone, so and so was the stability in your limbs. You couldn’t form any coherent thoughts, neither coherent words.

Each time she thrusted into you, your brain would reset and you could barely even speak clearly. You slurred over yourself as the slick ran down both of your thighs that abby held apart, “mhhh….ahh…p-please,” you begged, though she thrusted again, “aah–! mmmnhh…” you cried— your brain being blanked out and milked of all the thoughts it could produce.

The squelching noises of her cock disappearing into you and reappearing as she pulled out filled the heavy aroma of the room. She slowed down her speed but made sure to thrust in a little deeper than she did before, her strap touching the rim of your cervix with the penetration, “Shh..thats it, thats my girl.…just keep yourself like this f’ me.”

You nodded and got off to her praise. You were getting close to the edge.

So.

Fucking.

Close.

She thrusted faster, and faster and faster, your back arching and clawing at the bedsheets below you; ready to finally recieve what you were waiting and working fucking hours for—

wait…what?

The satisfaction was ripped away in a split second as you felt her stop at the last second, your sensitivity quickly increasing and the chances of gaining back your orgasm decreasing.

You cried out almost pitifully, “A-Abs—-p-please…-not again—!”

She leaned over and kissed your cheek as she kept her cock still stuffed in you, not pulling out any time soon, “Shh…one more for me pretty girl, just one more.” it had seemed like the millionth time that shes said something like that, but you complied anyway. “Okay..” you said with a tired but oh so fucking satisfied tone.

She starts thrusting in again, “That’s my girl.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ☆ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Authors note: hello!! Thank you for reading :)) i apologize, since this was a bit short and a bit rushed; and was more like a oneshot than an actual fic. Though i hope you guys still enjoyed despite that.

(P.S, abby probably gives AMAZING aftercare after this. So don’t worry too much hehe （＾∇＾) )

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 5)

Hi everyone! I am back from brink of death to bring you yet another platter of fic recs. Thank you all so much for you patience and for the continued love you all have shown these posts. I truly appreciate you all.

Also, just in case this has been bothering anyone: you will definitely see more author-diversity and newer fics as I work my way though my bookmarks. I'm working chronologically through my Sterek bookmarks from the oldest to the newest, so that means we're all currently reliving the early Sterek scene together while also getting to experience the moments where I would discover an author whose writing-style I particularly liked and then binged their entire body of work all at once before going back to the main tag's offerings (hence the large number of works by specific authors going on right now). Not sure if that bothered anyone, particularly the point about there being multiple fics from the same authors--people care about odd things sometimes, but I've seen discourse around this specific thing and would like to head it off at the pass--but I thought I'd make a statement about it because I was noticing it and was like "I wonder if this is bothering people...lemme speak on it". And now here we are!

Okay, enough yappin' from me. Let's do this!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

************************************************************************

DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

************************************************************************

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

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i'm just the same as i was (now don't you understand?) by paradis (T | 1/1 | 2,738)

"You're a virgin," Jackson says. "Everyone says you're a virgin." "Everyone but me," Stiles points out. More silence. Stiles thinks he can hear crickets chirping. "I'm kinda cold," he complains. "Well when were you not a virgin anymore?" Isaac asks, perplexed.

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by nightlights the children pray by hoars (T | 1/1 | 2,745)

Scott leaves for ten years and comes back.

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Nothing is as Bad as it Seems by paradis (T | 1/1 | 3,636)

“I know, it’s a shock,” he says. “But there’s more. Your friends– they’re werewolves. And that’s dangerous, Stiles. But I can keep them away!”

“I know they’re werewolves, you idiot!” Stiles shouts

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Stiles Stilinski's Knitting School for the Were, Other-Worldly and Supernaturally-Inclined by TypewriterLove (G | 1/1 | 3,789)

He'd trawled through online pattern directories, before finding something called Ravelry. Drumming his fingers against the desk, he'd hit the "register now!" button.

ScarletNerded's first action on their new account is to look up patterns with "wolf" keywords.

(In which Stiles ends up teaching the entire pack how to knit- which results in werewolves making socks. Alternatively named "Beacon Hills Stitch & Bitch")

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different definitions of good by preromantics (G | 1/1 | 4,259)

The one where Stiles has a fishy sort of excuse for not getting in a boat on the ocean. "Maybe I'm not really into the idea of getting caught by the coast guard on a stolen boat," Stiles says. Which, while not the reason Stiles definitely needs to stay behind, is also a pretty valid reason.

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No Destination by scottmcniceass (T | 1/1 | 5,043)

It's not like they're going anywhere in particular. They're just driving, getting away for a bit. Escaping everything. Together.

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Well Tempered by jsea (T | 1/1 | 5,290)

His fingers start moving almost of their own accord, and it feels easier suddenly. His fingers feel less clumsy, and the music that flows forth isn’t quite so somber anymore. It’s not the happy airy sound he wants so desperately to give to Stiles, but this feels right in its own way. More him. More them.

Or, the fic where Derek used to play piano, and he does again. But only for Stiles.

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we are tangled by drunktuesdays (T | 1/1 | 5,716)

"Derek was at your house?" "For like ten seconds," Stiles said. "I'd say it was weird, but is anything about Derek ever not weird?"

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can't be hateful, gotta be grateful by HalfFizzbin (T | 1/1 | 6,260)

"Be cool, Dad, we've decided to con Grandma."

(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's and she gets the right wrong idea.)

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Flint and Tinder by rufflefeather (T | 1/1 | 6,781)

"Hi," a voice comes through and Derek really wishes it’d take more than that to know who it is.

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The Alpha to My Alpha by CupcakeGirlA (T | 1/1 | 10,717)

“Derek will kill you. He’ll tear you limb from limb!” Stiles says, scrambling away from him. The Alpha ambles closer.

“No, I don’t think he will,” the Alpha says. “I mean aside from killing a couple of hikers in his territory and doing him this favor, I haven’t really done anything to Hale. Once I’m gone he’ll probably be happy with the gift I’ve left for him.”

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Derelictions of Duty by Regann (T | 1/1 | 10,846)

No one wants to be the bearer of bad news to someone as nice as Sheriff Stilinski -- especially when he's your boss. That's why none of his employees want to be the first one to tell him about the scandalous goings-on between his only son and the former murder suspect Derek Hale. For all of their sakes, hopefully the Sheriff will find out all on his own...

(Or, 5 times a Beacon County Sheriff's Office employee witnesses the unique relationship between Stiles and Derek but neglects to tell the Sheriff and 1 time he witnesses it for himself.)

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Going, Going, Gone by paradis (M | 3/3 | 12,296)

The Sheriff comes up to him after the services. "I don't believe he's dead," he tells Derek.

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Promises aren't Meant to be Broken by paradis (T | 1/1 | 12,463)

“Thanks for saving me,” Stiles blurts out, staring up at Laura, wide eyed.

Laura grins. “I like you,” she says, “we’ll be friends.”

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powerful in-scent-ive by kellifer_fic (T | 1/1 | 14,533)

Stiles holds up a hand, because he really can't listen to the bites-are-all-right speech that Derek has given Scott dozens of times. "Dude, don't."

"Look-" Derek tries again, oddly persistent.

"Derek, man, my worst nightmare is not me getting bitten, it's him. It's always been him."

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Strangeness and Charm series by hoars (4 works | NR-M | 14,744)

The Gypsy AU

1. for the way this animal love, lurches monstrous up my chest (M | 1/1 | 2,481) “Strangeness follows the Romani, what is a little more?” Elder Travj asked. That was the night Derek’s pack began to follow the caravan; a night marked by fire and loss. 2. wanting to make you happy and warm and unafraid and free (M | 1/1 | 4,022) "Laura called you a thief." Derek breathes into his neck. "And what did the she-wolf call you?" Stiles asks. "She called me a gypsy." And Derek does not sound wronged. He sounds insecure and of longing. "Then perhaps she finally speaks truths." Stiles says. "I am a thief and you like me, a Roma." 3. these places will have to substitute (NR | 1/1 | 2,229) (Interlude) “The chovihano is harmless to Derek.” Mother says. “I assure you, Miss Laura, Stiles would not hurt Derek.” The shaman says. “Stiles cares greatly for your brother.” But still. Something in her is screaming, howling and growling. 4. for the grunts and the screams we extract from each other (NR | 1/1 | 6,012) It doesn't make sense for the lunatic to be eating people but biting others. All evidence but for the mass grave indicated the lunatic had been recruiting, building a pack, not finding a meat source. Werewolves, even lunatics, weren't prone to cannibalism. “It's a true sign of madness.” Derek says, as if repeating something he’s heard a dozen times since he was a child. "The mark of the beast."

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You Make Me See How Much I Have by paradis (T | 1/1 | 16,943)

“You’re lucky you got here now,” he says, “Ten minutes – maybe you could get your –” there’s a crash before he can say get your daughter, and Stiles resists the urge to either slap his hand against his face, or slap Derek, because no one ever understands how difficult it is to have a kid in the store by themselves unless they’re also parents.

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Past Imperfect, Future Conditional series by elisera (3 works | T-E | 17,311)

1. Necessitate by (E | 1/1 | 3,888) Derek’s juggling the kids -- Noah hanging off his back, Ella standing on his foot while holding onto his jeans with a death grip and both of them still talking up a storm about their day at kindergarten -- and two bags of groceries in his arms that evening when the sight of Stiles standing in the backyard makes him weak in the knees. Stiles is in profile, ranting on his phone to Scott about the contract negotiations for the new construction on the Peterson property, and there’s a flush on his face, his ears pink and his mouth red from where he keeps biting it but the worst thing, the absolute worst thing is the round curve of his stomach, straining against the tank top he liberated earlier in the week from Derek when the heat wave hit and none of his own fit him anymore. It’s going to be stretched to hell by the time the kid is born but right now Derek can’t find it in himself to care. 2. The Weapon You Choose (E | 1/1 | 12,029) When Noah trudges down the backstairs that morning, he finds Dad sitting on a step halfway down and chewing on his knuckles, watching Papa making coffee like it’s a special on the discovery channel and not an almost daily ritual. Anyway, Noah needs the car on Friday; he might as well make nice so he sits down next to Dad, jostling his shoulder with his own in greeting. Dad raises an eyebrow, mirth in his eyes and his mouth curving around the knuckle stuck in it. Papa grunts just then, still trying and failing to open the tin with the ground coffee in it and Dad head snaps around, once again riveted. Noah rolls his eyes hard but he guesses people who’ve been together since the dawn of time need to get their fun wherever they can find it. 3. Pancake Wolves (T | 1/1 | 1,394) Stiles is on his third cup of coffee when Derek tromps down the stairs. He looks at him over his shoulder, taking in his barely open eyes and the pillow creases on his face, unable to keep from smiling at him. Derek yawns widely and just keeps going until he can wrap his arms tightly around Stiles’ waist and lean against his back, letting Stiles take his weight.

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Jurisdiction series by elisera (3 works | T-E | 19,897)

1. Jurisdiction (M | 1/1 | 7,025) John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before. But the temper is still there. He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders. 2. Life With Werewolves: A Beginner's Class (T | 1/1 | 2,836) Five times Sheriff Stilinski was really through with werewolves and one time he wasn’t. 3. Life With Humans: The Stilinski Edition (E | 1/1 | 10,036) “You still smell weird,” Derek says, pressing his nose against Stiles’ armpit, trying to figure out what about Stiles’ scent still bothers him so much. Stiles slaps his head and Derek nips the soft skin of his inner bicep in retaliation. “I,” Stiles says, still panting and shivering from his orgasm, “do not smell weird, you weirdo. Maybe you should take your nose in for a checkup, it’s clearly out of whack.”

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red series by hoars (3 works | NR-E | 32,156)

1. Festival of Red (E | 1/1 | 11,592) “See? I need my daisy crown or I won’t get Chased.” Stiles frowned. “And then I’ll have to do it again next year. I really don’t want to do it twice.” The good and the bad of getting Caught this year included not having to do it again and the bad was he’d have a werewolf mate for the rest of his life. Stiles is seventeen. He has a lot of life to live. Unless his wolfy mate has no sense of humor or a temper. Those with no sense of humor and tempers tended to hate Stiles the most and wouldn’t that suck? Being tied to someone for the rest of his life who hates him. That actually sounds like his type of luck. “You’ll be fine.” Allison beams because she’s a sweet person and can obviously read Stiles like a picture book aimed at toddlers. 2. Navigating our Marriage (NR | 1/1 | 8,316) The squeal to the bride-hunting fic that involves moving, emancipation, a family feud, a baby shower, a list of reasons and a magic cat lady. 3. Families: Eternally Messy (NR | 1/1 | 12,248) The third installment to the bride hunting fic that now involves pregnancy then babies, adult looking responsibilities, epic fails and proof no one picks their family.

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[futureplayboibunnie]

Strong Enough

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

18+ MDNI (y’all pls this is filthy)

- GIGGLING. KICKING MY FEET. i came back from spiderverse with JUST THIS MAN ON MY MIND. oscar isaac ur service is appreciated cause gah dayum.

- i had to write some super angsty smut abt him. i just had to, he’s so lana del rey vinylllll. i’m sorry if my spanish is crap (i had to use google translate bc my stupid ass took german instead of spanish in school- pls tell me if there were any mistakes. kiss kiss x)

warnings: dom!miguel, pnv, lotsa dirty talk (think i got carried away), angsty miguel, FANGS, sort of a soft end. AGGHH IM SO CRAZY ABOUT HIM WHAT THE FUCK.

enjoy bbygirls x

Miguel was furious as usual, his blood was beating like a drum with it, his mind buzzing akin to white noise. New anomalies, new foes but mostly a pesky kid who didn't know how to stay put and shut the fuck up- Miles Morales. He was seething- his eyes glowing a crimson hue violently assaulting against the hazel of his eyes. He looked like shit. Hell, he felt like shit. He was slipping, letting things get in the way, and he blamed you for it. Miguel doesn't slip. Miguel doesn't let things get in the way. Only until you came into his life and veered him off his intended course.

It was his hegemonic masculinity piping up like a hot breath down his neck. Miguel brought together the spider society- he was the solution to every problem, every anomaly, the answer to every spider. But he doesn't answer to himself. No, he didn't. You were the one that was overseeing Miguel's little society, hiding and checking in from time to time if the multiverse wasn't fucked up and every dimension was in a semi-stable state. Miguel was in control of the other spiders, he had to run his orders by you first even if you weren't at HQ half of the time. Being in a subservient position was exorbitantly and intensely frustrating and it made him highly hostile to anyone who talked to him.

You on the other hand had the jurisdiction to give him the authority- you gave him the damn idea, you were from his damn universe, but you couldn't deal with the politics and moral dilemmas that came with leading it. Also, you enjoyed toying with him. Fuck you found so much satisfaction in crawling through him, blowing at that over-inflated ego, those broad shoulders filled to the brim with hubris and pride. Hm, he was good at what he did though- actively scaring off anyone who dared speak against him. Except for Morales. You appreciated his pluck, it reminded you of yourself. Miguel was formidable but you understood why he needed to apprehend Morales- for some reason every time you were near the kid you started glitching out, it fucking hurt and messed with your brainwaves. You understood why he had to capture Miles but you didn't agree with how he was handling it. Miguel was sitting at his desk trying to figure out why this was happening and why this was happening to you but he came up empty. He didn't know what to think about it let alone do. It made him feel uneasy and he hated it. Cómo pedo solucionar esto? (How do I fix this?) kept looping throughout his head and it made him feel helpless and weak. Two words he would never associate with himself.

‘’Miguel.’’ Your voice echoed off the walls and shot straight to his ears, it was smoky and breathy.

"Y/N. Qué estás haciendo aquí? What do you want?’’ His usual low timbre makes your brows furrow involuntarily. ‘’Get out of the shadows.’’ He ordered and for once you listened to him, hopping on his platform behind him.

‘’Morales.’’ You stated deadpan knowing the reaction he was going to get, Miguel's eyes drastically narrowed and changed from a soft ambient scarlet to a scorching blood red. He turned his face a little to the side to glare at you.

"That kid touches anything in another dimension, I'll kill him myself.’’ He replied huskily. You weren't sure if you could trust his words. Yes, he was capable of it but you know deep down he wouldn't want to.

His moral compass strayed once, he won't let that happen again. Never.

"You wanna kill kids now? Is that how low we're going?'’

'We? There's we now?’’

You cocked your head at his question, your face remaining hard.

He stared at you in silent fury, of course he wouldn't want to resort to that but he had to do what he had to do. Miguel was surprised you didn't want to take him yourself considering he makes you glitch out. He hates you, God he hates you. But what happened to you...scared him. You'd been a part of this for so long, if anyone was going to hurt you it would be him- not anyone else. If anyone else did- Miguel dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Sometimes when he looked at you, he couldn't help but admire your callousness, your brutality yet your undying generosity to people who didn't deserve such a royalty. On the other hand, you were fucking gorgeous. He hated it. It was distracting. It was cruel. Though he couldn't help a little blip or mishap with his thought process- he was still a man after all. Miguel wondered what was under that suit. Wondered what you would like with nothing on at all. Wondered if you would still talk back with that snotty little attitude if you were choking on his dick instead. Though he wouldn't trust you not to bite his dick off in the process. Would you like his fangs? Would you like his claws? He shouldn’t be thinking such a thing.

‘’I should ask you the same question since he affects your stability también.’’ He replied calmly, slightly shocking you. ‘’No matter, I'll stop it. Alone.’’ He growled as he stepped off the platform, tired of entertaining this conversation with you. ‘’You've done enough damage as it is, now I have to fix it.’’

‘’I caused this damage? You realize how fucking stupid you sound. You control the spiders, I let you make orders.’’ You strike a harsh tone as you jolted in front of him to stop his path. Shit, he towered above you, all broad shoulders and disheveled hair. Although he undermined you like this, you wouldn't mind it in other situations...but at work, he was quite literally a piece of work and it made your blood boil. You both knew, you both could feel the palpable hatred swinging and beating again. ‘’And alone? I don't trust you not to kill him, Miguel.’’ You scowled, your eyes wide and piercing through him, halting him in his tracks. The gaze shared between you both was impenetrable, scorching, a battle against wills.

‘’I can't let you.’’ He shot back with a frown and grating red eyes.

‘’While I watch helplessly from the sidelines? I don’t think so. ’’ You challenged him white cold.

‘’I'm asking you, don't let me make you.’’ He gritted through clenched teeth, his fangs lightly protruding.

He was trying to scare you, it wasn't working.

‘’What is this to you? Playtime? To prove you're the strongest, to create fear wherever you go?’’ You pleaded with him orotund, inviting a yelling match to prove you weren't going down easy on this occasion.

You let Miguel do whatever he damn pleased like this was his own hunting grounds- but you won't let him lose his sanity.

‘’What? No.’’He replied shocked and confused at your presumed reasons why he was doing this. He just had to. He couldn't tell you the deep-rooted reason.

He didn't want to admit it.

Fuck, he couldn't admit it.

What kind of man would that make him?

What kind of leader? What kind of example would he be?

‘’Then what is it-?’’ He was trying to walk away from you but you snaggled onto his suit and brought him back to face you. ‘’Tell me.’’ You ordered stiffly.

‘’I have to do this alone.’’ His voice faltered a little and he was afraid that you might have heard it, that he gave you a glaring view of how quickly he was slipping through the cracks- how weak you've made him, how weak he was becoming.

‘’Why? Why do you need to, Miguel?!’’ You were almost yelling at him and no one other than you would get the privilege of living if they did that.

‘’Stop it.’��� He grunted like a wild animal.

"Then what-? What is it?’’ Your eyes searched for his as he was avoiding looking at your face, terrified that it would be written all over it. His heart was pounding.

‘’I'm not-‘’

‘’Not what?’’ You implored, pushing him further and further to the edge.

‘’I'm not strong enough.’’

‘'Strong enough? Oh yeah, and going after a kid will make you stronger.’’ You chided, eyes stiff cold, and judgemental.

‘’Yes, fuck. I-. No!’’ Miguel raked an exasperated hand through his hair, his palm was twitching and his talons were ready to come out. If only he could make you understand without telling you- but you were insatiable, a tick under his skin. Ready for another fucking fight.

Your eyebrows wilted as you said the words, so unbelievably paralyzed by his gall, his hubris, his never-ending need to prove he's the strongest, that he could do all of this. You knew he fucking could. ‘’That's what this is, some sort of bench press exercise for you? Some sort of work-out?!’’ Miguel grabbed you by the arms and his talons pinched at your skin through his suit, like he was trying to shake some sense into you.

‘’I can't lose you again!’’ He yelled at you, his face merely inches away from yours.

Your mouth popped open at his frazzled admission of honesty, his glowing red eyes faded as he stared at you, hoping for an answer he was sure you wouldn't give him. Miguel's harsh expression was lost with the wind when he hung his head to avoid that fucking look in your eyes. The one that made all the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders all the more fucking heavier, his hands raked down your arms as if he was soothing himself, and his breath became heavier as he closed his eyes to process the words he uttered. You glitching out every time Miles was near you is not an option he was willing to entertain: it was his job to worry about anomalies and canon events but on this occasion- he didn't. And he was admitting that to you.

It's not the fact that he's dangerous or an anomaly. It's because of you.

What kind of selfish would that make him?

Last time that happened he lost everything.

He would never make the same mistake again.

But look at him now.

Making the same mistake.

‘’I can't lose you. No otra vez....I'm not str-I'm not strong enough.’’ His head hung low as if the weight of the universe was saving him from completely falling apart.

You sighed in a mix of relief and pity. This is what it was all about? Pobre cosa (poor thing). Your eyes were wide with a magnetic pulse and your body was radiating a mesmeric need. He felt it. Your hands flew to his chest and slowly meandered to his broad shoulders, he was panting in exhaustion and regret but your fingers went to his chin and jutted it upwards so your longing stare could meet his. It was a scorching look between two tired and exhausted people. Miguel was working himself so hard and you just wanted to make him forget about it, just once.

‘’Miguel…’’

‘’Ahora me he dado cuenta de que no puedo hacer nada de esto sin ti.’’ (I've now come to realize that I can't do any of this without you). Miguel's eyes flitted to your lips, his voice low and husky...needy. ‘’But I'm a selfish man... y te necesito.’’ (and I need you). Your face looked blank, it's obvious you didn't understand a word he was saying. ‘’Whatever, you wouldn't understand what I'm saying anyway.’’ Miguel dismissed you as he let go of your embrace and attempted to head out.

Before he could move away too far, you exposed your wrist and webbed him, dragging him back to you. His eyes glinted with a surprise yet they were dark with need and arrogance. Miguel was in front of you and your pussy started throbbing. His senses went into overdrive and he couldn't hold back his will to not touch you anymore.

‘'He entendido cada palabra que me has dicho.’’ (I've understood every word you've ever said to me.)

He gripped your face and kissed you hard, it was furious and mean, and he tasted dangerous- just as you expected, just as you had been silently begging him to. Lord, you were sure you'd regret this but right now your body was alive. Miguel's massive hands pulled at your hair to open your mouth wider

'’Miguel...féllame, por favor.’’ (fuck me, please) you uttered breathlessly, his mouth traveling from your bottom lip, chin, and then neck. His lips then went to breathe raggedly in your ear.

‘’You've understood everything I've ever said under my breath about you?’’ He murmured, imploring you to make him understand. He thought he had the privilege of saying things secretly as no one understood his Spanish but him, so he could say things he didn't want to keep inside without anyone else knowing. But you pulled the rug out from under him, you've been fooling him. He hated it. The number of times he's mumbled how much he wanted you under his breath- fuck.

‘’Mhm.’’ You moaned as his hands flew to your hips and slammed you down on his desk with no finesse, planting himself between your soft thighs. ‘’I thought you would've caught me earlier than this chico.’’ You teased- the thought made him angry. His talons seeped out of his skin and ripped at your suit, exposing the bare skin of your waist.

‘’Y me he dado cuenta de lo mojada que te pones cuando estás cerca de mí.’’ (And I've noticed how wet you get when you're near me) The filthy words rolled off of his tongue like velvet. ‘’Don't think you have the upper hand here sweetheart.’’

‘’Even when I want you to fuck me, you still have to fucking argue with me.’’ You growled as your hands burrowed into his long raven hair

‘’Oh, but you like it this way.’’ He smirked in your ear, the cadence of his voice reducing your knees to that of fucking jelly.

"How do you know what I like? You never asked.’’ You flirted back, treading on dangerous waters with the man that is known for having paper-thin patience.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ Miguel clawed at your waist and then spun you around so the tops of your thighs were. digging into the translucent glass of his desk. All of a sudden, he placed his large palm just below your neck and shoved you flat onto the desk just with brute force. You were sure you were about to start salivating.

‘’Oh, mierda.’’ He breathed raggedly, his wandering hands ripping at your suit. ‘’Beautiful, dangerous, deadly. Pretending as if you're better than me... like you're not capable of killing.’’ He ripped at your suit some more, exposing more of your skin. Your breath trembled in anticipation as he bent down to whisper hotly in your ear, your ass already feeling his strong- oh. Shit. ‘’You drive my fucking crazy, you know that?’’ He ripped your suit until it was nothing but scraps. You were naked and desperate under him.

‘’Me vuelves loco.’’ (You make me insane).

‘’Stop fucking talking and just take me, Miguel.’’ You whined desperately as your cheek pressed coldly against the glass, your hair splaying all over your shoulders like a waterfall.

‘’Abre la boca.’’ (Open your mouth) He growled like an animal but you were too concerned with your wobbly legs and fraying patience, you replied with a stunned silence, almost jittering like a fool. A frown contorted on Miguel's perfect face, scrunching up his chiseled, picturesque features. His right hand gripped your hair pulling you up to him, his left hand brushed against your lips until he fully force-plunged two fingers in your mouth- saliva coating his fingers as you gagged and choked. Oh, he couldn't wait to get you on your knees- the thought provoked some visceral reaction within him.

‘’'That's it, good girl.’’ He grumbled the affirmation and it sent sparks shooting throughout your body.

Miguel rarely ever praised or complimented so this....fuck. ...this was different, you felt so damn special to him. The ever-so-broody Miguel O'Hara calling you a 'good girl' made an unstoppable moan rip through your throat. ‘’Oh, so you like to be loud? Seems like you can't shut up when you're getting fucked too.’’ He insulted adding insult to injury which just made you sweat.

‘’Is the venom from your fangs rushing straight to your head, Miguel? Or did you not hear what I said?’’ You spat with a distinct sharpness that he'd come to expect from you, he was glad to see he hadn't scared the personality out of you which he had the tendency to do to every single person he met. However, one thing he absolutely couldn't tolerate was backtalking- which you had a tendency to get away with most times but he thought this was the perfect situation to reinstate his rules. Miguel tugged on your hair again like his own personal leash.

‘’Puede que quiera joderte ahora mismo, pero no pienses ni por un segundo que no te haré sufrir en el proceso.’’ (I may want to fuck the shit out of you right now but don't think for a second that I won't make you suffer in the process) His voice was aggressive and heady and you were stiff with arousal, your pussy was aching for him.

‘’Por favor Miguel.’’ You begged softly and it made his gaze narrow and his fangs spike out of his gums.

At times like this, he was glad he had a suit that would come on and off as he pleased- right now he was sweating with need and he was thankful he was able to quickly rid of his suit. Miguel didn't think he would be this hard, but then again you did always have a knack for surprising him when he least expected it. His large palm smacked at your ass and he was happy to see a large indent of the outline he made. Like he had a claim on you.

‘’Miguel!’’ You whined like a bitch in heat.

He didn't listen to your plead, he didn't even tease you into it first, his rigid dick just slipped into your soaking wet heat and he'd never felt this pleasure...ever. You were seriously about to cry. He wanted you to. Your pussy molded around his dick, and you were afraid he wasn't even going to fit- but Miguel always finds a way. He felt so...fucking good. The dull ache inside of your stomach was twisting into a fit of knots and butterflies, he quite literally pulsated inside of you

"Tan apretado cariño.’’ (So tight sweetheart) Miguel's chest rumbled alongside his dirty words. Fucking hell, it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. He started rutting into you with abandon, without mercy.

You felt so good. He was so.. good...at this, as much as you hated to admit it. He kept pawing at your body, his talons creating the animalistic tension that much heavier between you.

‘’Mi vida...’’ He purred in your ear, going harder and faster with every pained moan that ripped through your throat like it was an incentive for him to keep going.

‘’So perfect for me. Squeezing me so well...Mierda.’’

‘’You want me?’’ You teased innocently as you twisted your head to look at him through doe eyes. His eyes were roaring red as his grip on your hips seeped into your skin harder.

‘’You know I do.’’ Miguel gritted through clenched teeth, baring his fangs. The sight just made you wetter. ‘’Let me show you how much.’’ He bent down and it felt like he was going to snap you in half, you were so close to reaching your peak. To add insult to injury, he bit down on the skin of your bare shoulder blade and blood dripped from his fangs when he pulled away- your moan in response was that of perfection. Fuck it hurt but it felt amazing.

‘’It's okay, mi vida, come for me. I won't tell.’’ Miguel cooed, showing a tender side to him as he kissed down your shoulder blade to your back. You obeyed his command and came onto him- violently, so fucking hard. A guttural groan rumbled from his chest and your honeyed pants brought him back to life- a cause and effect. He fucked you through your orgasm and allowed himself the privilege of finishing inside you.

Miguel pulled out of you, leaking against the back of your thigh in the process. The scene was filthy, completely obscene and you never thought this would actually happen. ‘’Stay still princesa.’’ He commanded and you actually listened to him. The pressure of Miguel's body left you exposed as your ears pricked up to hear a rustle of draws and a clattering of things behind you. You turned your head around and his hologram suit was back on, it hugged him so fucking tightly your knees were starting to shake again.

You felt his presence again as you felt a cloth clean up the leaks down your thighs. ‘’Muchas gracias, Miguel.’’ Smartass. You flirted and he just smirked back at you, helping you stand up straight and face him when he got you cleaned up. You gazed up at him, quite chipper if you were being completely honest. Maybe a good hard fucking from his was all you needed to straighten you out. His eyes were still greedy as they raked up and down your naked body.

‘’As much as I prefer you like this...here.’’ A hologram covered you and your suit was back on, fine lines and all- well, that's easier than what you have to go through every day to get it sitting nicely.

You gazed at the scraps of your suit that were on the floor. Jesus Christ, he fucked like an animal.

"Nice to know chivalry isn't dead.' You tiptoed so you could get closer to his face and kissed his cheek. ‘’Thanks for the fuck, Miguel. Also by the way, I'm still not letting you kill that kid.’’ You patted his shoulder sarcastically- toying with him even further. You just walked away from him and his platform, you left him in a stunned silence and a blank expression, he scoffed breathlessly as he turned around to see you saunter away so damn confidently.

‘’Princesa no tan rapida.’’ (Not so fast princess) He replied back with a broken half smile. He suddenly exposed his wrist and a web flew to your waist and he instantaneously pulled you back in front of him. The breathless expression on your face was something that needed to be showcased in galleries.

‘’Can't lose me again? Object permanence is a thing you know torombolo.’’ You joked and his brows furrowed slightly in response, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

‘’Don't joke about that mi vida.’’ Miguel's face had a sheen of concern and it made your stomach twist into butterflies. ‘’You could die.’’ His voice came across as more stern than intended but you didn't back away like anyone else would do- you accepted him for who he was.

‘’Oh, Miguel...Please, we'll figure it out. But that kid you're after is probably scared and alone- just like you were, just like I was and I don't want that to swallow him.’’

‘’But every time-‘’ You pressed your pointer finger to stop his lips from moving.

"Shush. I've always trusted you, Miguel, now I don't even think there's a point in me being your higher-up. If we work together, you don't have to be afraid.’’ You caressed his face tenderly and he got lost in the softness of your words and your ever so guileless eyes.

‘’Okay?’’ Miguel turned his head to kiss at your palm as an affirmation.

‘’Okay.’’