#so I just put another pinwheel there XD

[bigbrainbiology]

Birthday art for Best Girl <3

[mikuyuuss]

i still think about your older post about female demon slayer character designs 😭 i go back to it a lot and it has made me put deeper thought into how intentional the design choices are in gotouge's part. i wanna know if you have any other thoughts on the design choices of the other characters??

Omg sorry the delay. Idk why I wasn't notified of this but I'm glad u liked my old posts, even if the writing is kinda messy and all over the place, pls forgive me (I still do stand by a lot of my thoughts on it, if you can look pass the grammar errors)

I'm not sure if I can still make another detailed analysis for all of them, I did the girls before since there's only four of them, so its easier (and then giyuu just because XD) but I do think Gotouge did a great job with all of them. The hashiras definitely stood out to me, and I'll try to summarize.

I like that they are all wearing very customized uniforms. It really shows they they are a unit while still being unique individuals. I know some people found their designs kinda ridiculous and weird at first, but I think Gotouge simply took the classic "Almighty student council" trope in anime where a group of people within an organization are so powerful and above the rules, that they can be as weird as they want. I think Gotouge applied that trope to the hashiras, and dialed it up to show how strong and unique each of them are.

I think it works for them. It adds to their charm. In kny, we rarely see the characters doing things outside of demon slaying, so giving them over the top designs and breathing styles, help give us a little glimpse into what kind of the person they are and what we think their hobbies could be.

If you just look at Uzui's design, you already get the vibe that he's someone who enjoys fireworks and explosions (and he does!) He even has nail polish on his nails, which shows that Uzui takes good care of his looks and is stylish, maybe his wives even paint it for him! He used to be a Shinobi, someone who has to live in the shadows, but everything about his design is loud and screaming, which really tells us about how sick he is of his former lifestyle.

With Muichiro it's hard to pinpoint, because there's a sense of mystery to him. Everything about his clothes and his hair is plain and loose. The way his hair moves sometimes covers obscures his face, which very much matches his mist breathing. It's all intentional! It shows how Muichiro didn't fully know himself.

With Himejima he has a very top heavy design to show how strong he is and to match with stone breathing, he has very earth colors. I do like that the scar on his forehead is horizontal, bc horizontal motif expresses stability and it could imply his gentler nature, which is why it's no surprise when we learned that he's into cats, and cares for children.

With Sanemi, everything about him is rugged. His scars are mostly diagonal, even the belts on his ankles are diagonal. He doesn't seem like someone who cares about aesthetics. He just wants to show how angry (and hot) he is. His overall design isn't that colorful either, except for a few hints of green. I like that green is mostly a calm color yet used for someone aggressive like Sanemi, maybe this could imply his hidden kindness? Also LOVE the design of his swordguard, the little spikes forming a pinwheel! It adds a little playfulness to his otherwise angry design.

With Rengoku, he is ketchup mustard, guy fieri aesthetic from head to toe. Everything about his design is super straight forward which matches his direct, honest and extroverted personality. I also feel that red and flame motifs are things that are very much favored in shounen media. Either that, or green to which red and green are complimentary colors, so it makes sense why his relationship with Tanjiro ended up being so important. The moment I saw Rengoku I knew he was going to be especially important bc of his design.

With Obanai, the stripes really compliment the socks he gave Mitsuri, which already shows their connection. Most people are already aware about the stripes on Obanai's haori and how it relates to his backstory, so I won't go over that anymore. I like the how Mitsuri has thin stripes vs Obanai's bold stripes. It shows the contrast between them with how Mitsuri is sweet yet physically strong, while Obanai is not as strong but has a more aggressive personality. Vertical stripes are often associated with prisoners and social misfits, which is a motif that is very fitting for him and Mitsuri.

I recently learned in fashion school the saying that "A good design should serve its purpose." It's less about whether it looks good or not, that's subjective. As long as there's clear aesthetic that serves its purpose (expressing the characters) it's already good fashion, so kny characters are stylish af /jk/lh

[hiddendreamer67]

Last thought before I fall unconscious: human twins Roman and Remus find some tinies and treat them as toys. Roman dresses them up and makes them kiss like dolls. Remus straps them to the tracks of his toy train. Choo-choo motherfucker >:)

(that last line ‘Choo-choo motherfucker’ gets me every time oml XD anyways here’s the prompt for the week, posted a day early!)

Check out more of my writings at @hiddendreamerwriting!

Warning: gross. Remus being Remus again. Also injury.

——————————————————————————————————

“Alright you two, that’s enough!” Their mother scolded, nearly booting the twins outside the door. “Go play outside for a while.”

Roman glared at his brother. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” The child in question gasped dramatically. “You’re the one who wasn’t playing right.”

“Fairy tales are supposed to have happy endings!” Roman stomped his foot.

“That’s boring.” Remus groaned. “Why doesn’t the dragon ever get to eat the hero?”

“Ugh, you’re so gross.” Roman stuck out his tongue.

“You’re the one that’s gross.” Remus stuck his own tongue out. “Who cares about a dumb wedding? That’s a stupid ending.”

“You’re a stupid ending.” Roman retorted creatively. He dodged, watching Remus bring his tongue closer. “AUGH! Don’t lick me! MOM!”

“Mom can’t hear you.” Remus taunted.

“Well then she can’t hear you either.” Roman said, giving his brother a shove.

“Augh!” Remus panicked, grabbing onto Roman’s sleeve and unbalancing them both to go tumbling down the hill.

“Owwwww…” Remus whined, having crashed them both into a bush. Roman was rubbing at his head as well. “That one was your fault.”

“Remus, shhh.” Roman blinked, spotting something just beyond their crash landing. Remus was mercifully quiet, noticing Roman’s conspiring smile.

There, in a clearing just entering the forest, the twins spotted four individuals each hardly larger than their little hands. The group sat atop a circle of mushrooms, levitating tiny teacups between them and giggling as their wings danced in the sunlight.

“Fairies.” Roman whispered, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

“I want the green one.” Remus decided, pointing.

“That’s not green, that’s yellow.” Roman rolled his eyes.

“It’s green if I want it to be green.” Remus stuck up his nose.

“Uh oh.” Roman hushed. “I think they noticed us.”

Indeed, there had been a fluttering of wings, and now the fae were all glancing at the bush that served as their hiding space. The one dressed in periwinkle petals took a few steps forward, trying to peer into the darkness.

On three. Roman and Remus seemed to agree, nodding with their twin telepathy. One…two…

“AAAAAH!” Remus came charging out, startling all the little things so much that it was easy to dive and surround all of them. Roman lunged his arm out, grabbing the one closest to the bush in his fist.

“Don’t crush them!” Roman protested, standing to emerge from the bush. He watched as Remus scooped them all towards himself and made a sort of basket with the front of his shirt.

Remus giggled, his clothing wriggling as he held the makeshift pocket closed. “They tickle.”

Roman couldn’t help but agree. Just the one trying to flutter out of his hand tickled his fingers pleasantly with its nervous struggles. “Aww, you’re so cute!” Roman cooed, bringing the fairy higher. “It’s okay, little fairy, I’m not gonna hurtcha.”

“I’m gonna take these back to my room.” Remus decided, carefully beginning to waddle back up the hill.

“Our room- hey! You can’t have all three!” Roman’s arms swung at his sides, jostling the fairy as he ran to catch up with his brother.

“Finders Keepers.” Remus teased.

“Well, I found them, so then they’re all mine.” Roman argued.

“You can have one.” Remus relented, the twins by now used to sharing, even if Remus liked to take larger portions. “And not the green one.”

“Yellow one.” Roman stuck his arm out. “Wait, stop. You can’t go in the kitchen, mom will see us.”

“…to the window!” Remus cried instead, running towards the side of the house. Here the twins could look through the glass, seeing their room perfectly split in half. On one side the walls were red, with Roman’s golden bed pressed into a corner and an army of stuffies surrounding it like a true knight. On Remus’ side the walls were puke green, and had an assortment of beheaded stuffies that were both his own and any of Roman’s unfortunate enough to find themselves on Remus’ side of the bedroom.

“Ugh, it’s too heavy.” Roman grunted, trying to push open the window with one hand. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but open your shirt, let me put this fairy in too.”

As much as Remus liked taking off his shirt, he shook his head. “No way! Then all of mine will fly away.”

“All of ours.” Roman growled, already sick and tired of how Remus was trying to claim his find. “So, then what are we gonna do? We can’t have this one flying away, but I need both my hands.”

“I know somewhere you can put it.” Remus’s tone was too mischievous to be taken seriously, and sure enough a moment later he opened his mouth wide. The fairy in Roman’s hand really began to panic then, its eyes wide and a string of chittering bell sounds frantically coming out.

“Stop it, you’re so gross!” Roman rolled his eyes. He thought about closing Remus’s mouth himself, but feared being licked. Remus just laughed, amused at both reactions.

“Alright, um…” Roman looked down at himself, trying to find a solution. His pants had pockets, but none with buttons so surely the fairy could just fly right out. Instead Roman set the fairy on the ground, raising his foot up. The fairy gave a shriek so high-pitched it hurt Roman’s ears, but he just gently set his shoe down so that he was pining the fairy by the wing.

“There!” Roman smiled, proud of his solution as he stood back up. Roman tried to keep his footing secure, not wanting to slip and fall onto the actual fairy as he pushed against the bottom of the window. Finally the panel slid open, leaving a gap big enough for a child to climb inside.

“Me first!” Remus declared, shoving Roman aside to clamber on in. Roman pinwheeled his arms, trying to keep his balance. The boy managed to stay upright, but in his fight to do so Roman felt his foot twist, and the fairy gave another wail.

“oh no!” Roman sunk to the ground, quickly gathering up his fairy. His heart sank, seeing there was now a large tear along what had once been a pair of beautiful, shimmering iridescent wings. “Oh little fairy, I’m so sorry…” Roman’s sadness turned to anger, the boy climbing through the window with the tiny person cradled to his chest. “Remus, you dung beetle, you broke him!”

“Not my fault.” Remus shrugged, looking unapologetic. “You stepped on him.”

Roman kept muttering curses at his brother, setting his fairy on the window ledge while he closed the window. At least he didn’t have to worry about him flying away again.

“Don’t worry little fairy, I’ll help you.” Roman assured him, rushing over to his crafting table. He shoved the mess to the side, clearing a space as paints and glitters tumbled everywhere. “Nurse!”

“Nurse yourself.” Remus responded, busy on his side of the room dumping the other fairies into a pillowcase. He tied it up, giving the container a few shakes for good measure.

Roman grabbed the craft glue, pining the injured wing down with his fingers. The fairy tried to pull away but Roman just shushed him, smearing the sticky substance all over the rip. “Ugh, Remy, you’ve ruined it! His wing doesn’t look pretty anymore.”

“Can I have it then?” Remy came over, peering over Roman’s shoulder. The struggling case was dragged along at his side.

“No, he’s still the prettiest.” Roman declared, pulling out some rainbow glitter. He opened the bottle, dumping the contents onto the glue. “There. It’s…better.”

“It looks gross.” Remus stuck out his tongue.

“Whatever, you’re gross.” Roman looked at the pillowcase. “Remus, let them out, they’re gonna suffocate.”

“You promise?” Remus teased, but the two boys went over to Roman’s bed that was much more clean for the occasion. Remus gave the bag another shake, making sure the fairies were disoriented before dumping them onto the bed.

“I call the purple one- OW!” Roman flinched back, cradling his wrist to his chest. “It bit me!”

“Good boy.” Remus gave a pleased smile, grabbing the purple one to dangle by its leg so its teeth were out of reach. His other hand had possessively grabbed the yellow one, pressing it happily to his cheek.

“Whatever, you can have your messed up fairies.” Roman grabbed the last one, all dressed in dark blue. He seemed to match Roman’s other fairy anyways, almost as if they were meant to be a pair. “Aww, aren’t you cute~? I’m gonna make a home for my lil’ guys.”

“They’re not gonna want to live in one of your creations.” Remus gagged, thinking of his brother’s gaudy structures.

“They’re not gonna live at all if you try to make them a home.” Roman had seen Remus’ handiwork in the past. His dollhouses tended to be more like deathtraps, while Roman liked to make them into mansions.

“Is that a challenge?” Remus smirked. He wiggled the purple one back and forth. “Wanna test your luck in the death castle, little fairy?” The fairy hissed at him.

“Now-“ Roman used his decree-ing voice, sounding very official as he carried the blue one back to the crafting table. “If you two are going to be living together, we simply must have a wedding first.” Roman wasn’t sure if that was a rule, but it certainly should be in his opinion. Who doesn’t want a wedding? Why aren’t there weddings every day, anyhow? Roman had been asking such questions ever since the family attended the ceremony of a distant cousin earlier in the month, and his parents never seemed to give him a straight answer.

“Those are both boy fairies.” Remus pointed out. “You can’t have a wedding.”

“Boys can love boys!” Roman stomped his foot. He would just have to improvise. Roman grabbed his wedding dolls from his bin, holding the dark blue fairy underneath his leg while he worked to undress the dolls. Satisfied, Roman took the fae and shoved him into the tuxedo.

“He looks ridiculous.” Remus gaffed, watching as he sat cross-legged on Roman’s bed.

“Get off my side, you cretin!” Roman screeched, pointing to the other half of the room. Remus rolled off the bed, hurrying over to his side.

“Now, what to do with you?” Remus hummed, holding out both his fairies upside down. The purple one had begun to look a bit purple in the face, being held upside down so long. In fact, like this, Remus thought he almost looked like a popsicle.

What do fairies taste like, anyhow? Remus wondered, turning his fists upside right again to gain a better grip. Remus was no stranger to putting things in his mouth; he was a very curious child and would often test what things were by giving them a good lick. It was not surprising by this point in his life that Remus had consumed quite a large amount of dirt.

So, once the question entered his brain, Remus knew he needed answers. He lifted both of his hands, weighing them like a scale to decide who should go first. Of course, it was really no question, considering Remus had a favorite.

“Ah~” Remus let his tongue hang out of his mouth, bringing the yellow-green one up to his mouth and giving the fairy a big lick. Remus recoiled at the bitter taste, but the fairy’s reaction alone made it worth it. His hair stuck up wildly from Remus’s saliva, eyes wide with shock and mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. Remus gave a large belly laugh, nearly toppling over in his amusement.

“Alright, your turn.” Remus taunted, raising the purple one above his head to dangle above his mouth. It was already flailing, and Remus felt pleasure in watching its struggles increase as he lowered it in.

“Your turn for-? REMUS!” Roman shrieked, looking over to see Remus sucking on something and a pair of purple legs kicking wildly outside his lips. “Spit him out!”

“Mm-mm!” Remus shook his head, and though he cringed at the terrible flavor Remus couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly at his brother through his pain.

“I am not letting you anywhere near mine if that’s how you treat them.” Roman huffed, turning back to his work. The injured one seemed to be glued to the table, and Roman was trying to scrape it up with the edge of a paintbrush. The dark blue one was impatiently waiting in the overturned paint jar, pounding on the glass to get Roman’s attention.

Finally Remus spat the purple one back into his hand. It shivered in the air-conditioned environment, probably extra cold now that he was drenched in spit.

“Alright fairies.” Remus used his own voice of decrees, stomping over to his train table. “I think I know another game we can play.”

“Again, if you lose yours, that’s it.” Roman insisted, shoving a struggling periwinkle fairy into a wedding dress. The outfit had once been white, but Roman had long since scribbled over it in a rainbow of marker to try to make the ensemble less boring.

“They can take it.” Remus shrugged, pulling out some string. He disconnected a piece of track, tying the fairies to it with practiced ease. This was a common game they played, with Roman playing the heroes trying to save the damsel dolls tied to the tracks and Remus being the constructor urging the train on. When they played on Remus’ half of the room, the dolls often lost.

“Wait a minute, I’m nearly done!” Roman whined, not wanting to miss it despite himself. He threw some paper confetti into the air, watching it sprinkle down. “Okay, you’re married. Nowwww, kiss.” Roman took a fairy in each hand, shoving their little faces together a couple times to imitate a kissing motion. Their noses scrunched up, but Roman thought their lips touched once so that was good enough. “Okay my hero husbands are ready!”

“And my victims are ready.” Remus placed the track back into place. He grabbed the controller, turning on the train. The lights turned on and the machine’s whistle sounded, making both fairies tied to the tracks begin to squirm.

“Hey, maybe they actually stand a chance!” Roman perked up, excited by the idea of a happy ending. “I’ll set my fairies down, and we’ll see if they can untie them in time.”

“Fine by me.” Remus shrugged, already chugging his train along at full force. The rumbles it sent through the tracks made the struggles increase.

“Alright, go little fairies.” Roman urged, setting his blue fairies down. Instantly both fairies began tugging at the ropes, trying to save their friends. “So, how do we know if they lose?”

“The train crashes into them.” Remus grinned.

“Remuuuuuus.” Roman groaned. “You can’t do that! We don’t want to hurt them.”

“It probably won’t hurt them.” Remus lied, pushing the train to go even faster. He pressed the whistle again, watching all four tiny people jump. The train was getting closer, the clacking making the fairies’ hands slip as they struggled to undo Remus’ solid knots.

Roman bit his lip, trying to judge how far away the train was. If Remus was going to act all stupid again, Roman didn’t want his fairies to end up in harm’s way. The train rounded the corner, and seeing that the knots were nowhere near undone Roman quickly gathered up his fairies for safety. Both of them struggled, trying to get back onto the tracks the silly things.

“Choo choo!” Remus declared, driving the train full steam ahead. In three…two…one…

“Haha!” “Aww….”

Both boys had very different reactions when the train rammed into the fairy’s side, only to harmlessly bounce off onto the tracks. Just like with the dolls, the train was just not strong enough to drive straight through and likely did no more damage than a little bruising to the yellow one.

“Fate chooses the side of good once again!” Roman gave a victory fist pump.

“For now.” Remus bent over, untying his living toys. He wasn’t that upset the train hadn’t worked; it only meant he could have even more fun with his fairies.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @mermaid-reyes!

Happy Holidays, mermaid-reyes! Your blog was such a wealth of wonderful ideas and inspiration, it was hard to choose just one thing to write! I would have loved to have written you an intensely detailed AU, but then reality set in and I remembered that I'm more of a fluff and smut writer! XD So I hope you enjoy this silly little offering anyway! <3

Read on AO3

*****

Pushed to the Limit

Derek watches as Stiles pulls on a fitted tee. He turns front to back and side to side, checking his reflection in the mirror. It’s the sixth shirt he’s tried on, each one tighter than the last. Derek doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

If someone had told Derek a few months ago that he’d be spending his senior year of college rooming with a freshman, he wouldn’t have believed them. Or if he had, he probably would’ve just taken the initiative and put himself out of his misery before it could come true. And yet, he’s survived an entire semester and, surprisingly, it hasn’t been all bad.

Stiles has his faults to be sure, but the worst part isn’t what Derek would have expected. He’s found he can deal with the mess. He can deal with the noise. He can deal with all of Stiles’ many quirks. He can even deal with Stiles’ friends.

The worst part is the desire. What Derek cannot deal with is how much he wants.

“This isn’t working.” Stiles pulls up the shirt he was trying on, his voice muffled under the material as it gets caught on his head.

He finally struggles free and turns towards Derek, bare-chested.

Derek stares -- licking his lips at the sight of Stiles’ small, pink, little nipples -- then forces himself to close his eyes, but the image is already burned into his retinas.

When he opens them again, Stiles is dressed once more. Derek isn’t sure if that’s better or worse.

“What do you think of this one?” Stiles says, frowning at his reflection in the mirror.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Derek grits out. “Just like all the rest.” He breathes in through his nose and pushes down the need to reach out to touch -- to claim.

“Fine?!” Stiles yanks the offending shirt up and off and tosses it onto the growing pile of clothes in the corner of their room -- the pile that Derek will undoubtedly be the one to pick up later.

“Yes, fine.” Derek repeats. “What’s wrong with fine?”

“Wow, what a glowing recommendation,” Stiles deadpans. “Fine isn’t good enough. It needs to be so much better than fine.”

He pouts, and Derek gnashes his teeth.

“It’s great. They’re all great. You look great.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible. Absolutely no help at all,” he says as he plops down on Derek’s bed. He starfishes his arms and legs, spreading them out until he’s taking up every inch of the bed possible, his bare skin rubbing against Derek’s sheets and spreading his scent all over.

Derek clears his throat, crosses his arms, and digs his too-sharp nails into his palms as Stiles lays in his bed -- his scent no doubt soaking deeper and deeper into the sheets the longer he lies there.

Not that his scent isn’t already permeating every inch of the room, but Stiles seems to have an obsession with Derek’s bed in particular.

Derek swears that Stiles spends more time in Derek’s bed than he does his own. He sits on it. He lays on it. Derek’s even come back from class and caught him napping on it.

He really wants to ask Stiles why he doesn’t just use his own bed, but he’s too afraid that if he does, then Stiles will stop, and that would be so much worse. As it stands, Derek’s only real complaint is that Stiles only claims his bed when Derek himself is not actually in it.

“I wish Lydia were here. She’d know exactly what I should wear,” Stiles whines.

“Why don’t you just wear the shirt that Lydia gave you for Christmas? That seems like a safe bet.”

“Dirty.” Stiles frowns and covers his face with Derek’s pillow.

“It’s just a club. It’s not a damn runway. Pick something.”

“You would say that.” Stiles glares at him. “You always look like a model no matter what you wear.”

“Please -- just pick something.” Derek growls.

“I want someone to actually touch me tonight. I need touching, Derek.”

Oh, how Derek wants to be the one to touch him.

Clinging to Derek’s pillow, he rolls over onto his stomach and tucks it under his chin. “I know I’ve said this before, but it’s still true. I don’t want to die a virgin. I intend to find someone to fuck me tonight. It’s my Christmas present to myself.”

Derek gapes at him.

“Don’t look so shocked, sourwolf. I neeed someone to sex me up. Remember sex? I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

It takes everything Derek has to plant his feet and stay where he is. His wolf howls for him to take the few steps towards Stiles, grab him, and make him his.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Stiles shouts as he bounces up out of the bed and returns to rifling through the closet again.

Derek is immensely grateful for the distraction. Until Stiles reappears with yet another shirt, one that looks extremely familiar and is obviously too large for him.

“That’s my shirt,” Derek says, but Stiles is already pulling it on.

“Yep,” Stiles answers, with a pop at the end of the word.

Derek closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. The universe is obviously testing him. There’s only so much temptation one werewolf can take.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to the sight of Stiles wearing his shirt. It’s a poor fit to be sure -- far too big for him -- but Derek can’t help but think it looks amazing despite that.

To Derek’s eternal regret, it doesn’t take long for Stiles to decide against this one as well.

Stiles pinwheels his arms, waving the rejected tee at Derek, their shared scent wafting towards him with every gesture of Stiles’ hand.

Stiles’ tosses the shirt at Derek’s head and he reaches out to catch it, holding it tight in his hand and refusing to allow himself to bury his face in the fabric.

That’s when he snaps. The stimulus is just too much. He can’t take it any longer. As if the sight of Stiles’ smooth skin on display wasn’t enough, knowing Stiles’ goal for the night pushes him over the edge. The scent of them together combined with the overpowering need to touch breaks the thin thread of control that Derek has been so desperately holding onto for the last few months.

With superhuman speed, he moves across the room, grabs hold of Stiles waist, pins him between the wall and Derek’s own body, and kisses him.

When the kiss breaks, Stiles is smiling at him. “Well, that took you long enough. I was starting to get desperate.”

Derek dips his head into the crook of Stiles’ neck and growls.

“You want someone to touch you?” Derek asks.

“Please,” Stiles begs, breathless as he thrusts forward, his dick hard in his jeans.

“You don’t need to go out. I promise you won’t need anyone else. I’m the only one you need. I promise, I’ll make you feel so good.” He reaches down, unbuttons Stiles’ fly and cups his dick through his underwear.

'That's - Yeah,” Stiles whimpers.

He shoves his thigh between Stiles’ legs, grabs his ass and pulls him forward until he’s humping Derek’s thigh.

“That’s it. Just like that, baby. Rub yourself off. Take some of the pressure off now, then I’ll fuck you until you come again.”

He runs his fingers down Stiles’ trembling spine and slips one hand down the back of Stiles’ pants. Derek grips Stiles’ ass cheek in his palms, fingers digging into the flesh as he bends his head, buries his face in Stiles’s neck again, scenting him. He licks his throat and nudges behind his ear as Stiles moves against Derek’s muscled thigh, seeking the perfect amount of friction.

Stiles whines as his hips move faster and his arms slide around Derek’s neck, holding tight. Derek watches his mouth as Stiles’ licks his lips, his mouth hanging open like always.

Derek leans in for another kiss and considers the many many things he’s dreamed of doing to that mouth.

Derek’s lips move further down Stiles’ cheek and neck as he works kisses down his collarbone and chest.

Derek shifts his leg, giving Stiles more leverage and pulling him into position so that he can get his mouth on Stiles’ pouty little nipples. He sucks one in his mouth and thumbs the other as Stiles moans in pleasure, his orgasm drawing near.

Derek’s cock is aching, but he can’t think about that yet. Stiles is still grinding on his thigh, his cock dribbling precome, making him so wet that Derek can smell it leaking from his tip and soaking into his underwear.

Derek’s fingers dip lower, sliding into the cleft of Stiles’ ass to tease his rim. He rubs over the tight clench of Stiles’ body, gently circling his hole until he can barely press in.

“You’re so tight. I’ll have to finger you for hours just to fit my cock in you.”

Whimpering like a puppy, Stiles moves his hips forward and back, his cock rubbing against Derek’s leg and his ass thrusting back on Derek’s finger.

“Fuck, Derek, yes! I’m going to come.”

“That’s it, baby,” Derek growls, his voice going deeper, almost inhuman. “Come for me, Stiles. I want you to.”

Derek bites suddenly on his shoulder and Stiles twitches. He presses his teeth down, just holding him there, careful not to break skin as he slips his hand between them again and grips Stiles’ dick.

“Derek, yes, yes --” and then he comes, hips jerking erratically as he pulses into Derek’s hand with a broken off cry. His legs give out as Derek pulls him close, supporting his weight. Even with his cock still pressing against Stiles’ hip, he feels satisfied and more content than he has in a long time.

Derek looks at him and feels an overwhelming urge to kiss him again, but Stiles’ beats him to it. He leans in sliding his tongue across Derek’s bottom lip causing a spark of friction to run down Derek’s spine as their tongues touch.

“I really hope we’re planning to do that so many more times.” Stiles grins at him.

“As much as you want,” Derek promises with a kiss as he steps backwards until the his knees hit the edge of his bed.

“You should really be careful what you promise.”

Derek sits down, catching Stiles easily as he topples forward onto him.

“Can I tell you something?” Derek asks, voice muffled against Stiles’ hair.

“Hmm?”

“I liked you best in my shirt.”

“I know,” Stiles replies.