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stiles he naked 

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My average writing experience:

"Alright I think I'm almost done actually-"

*Google doc grows second health bar and a choir starts singing in latin*

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why say "ok boomer" when you could say "ok bootlicker" and target capitalist shills of all ages with a single phrase

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Nothing like going to a Pride event and then heading off to go beat up some bad guys in full glam.

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Pried ficlet thoughts

Got a mental image of Stiles stretch out on a bench, lounging in a rainbow wife beater and maroon sweats with a backwards baseball cap and garish sunglasses. Derek approaches. "Didn't that bench have armrests in the middle?" "Yep." "What'd you do?" "Well, it's pride, right?" -Derek raises an eyebrow- "And I wanted to lie down, so I, you know, pried them off. For pride." -insert shit eating grin as he pulls out a bright pink crowbar-

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Stiles Stilinski, Chaos Eater - ch 1

On AO3

"My dad always said if I ever get arrested my first call should be to him, but I think you may be the better option in this case," Stiles says, and Peter can hear the strain under the attempt at cheerful bravado. "Please tell me you've heard of the Houston Hub?"

~

Stiles just wanted to have a fun weekend in Houston.

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WIP (no longer) Wednesday

I was tagged by the fantastic @renmackree! I didn't get a chance to follow up on it on Wednesday and it is now decidedly NOT Wednesday, but you know what, screw it. Ya'all are getting more of the incubus/paralysis demon Stiles fic. For context, he has been trapped in a single room for a very long time thanks to sleep paralysis demon bullshit. He also feeds on energy given off by pleasure/fulfilled desire/positive non-demon emotions. A room that never sees traffic is, quite literally, his worst nightmare.

He woke up and everything was wrong. Wrong windows, wrong doors, wrong smell, wrong sheets. It was too peaceful, too terrifyingly idyllic. He was wearing clothes, soft, well-worn clothes as warm, supple blankets rested across his skin. Beyond, the windows showed an endless expanse of trees, and the doors? The doors were open, taunting him. The closet had no clothes. Stiles' eyes roamed the room, noting a dresser without clutter. A clean, tidy, empty room that seldom saw use, a spare room. He couldn't even smell the faintest whiff of stale body odor. He'd find no food here, it was a room fit to starve him. Stiles panicked. His heart pounded, his chest ached, his vision blurred as his muscles tensed up in terror. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He was trapped in a spare room. He was going to die. He was going to starve to death and he wouldn't even get to be awake to see it. He was dead. This was the end. After everything, he was going to die, he��

Gonna tag @lalaithquetzallicaresi @thotpuppy @whimsicalmeerkat & @dear-massacre even though it's a tad early for WIP Wednesday. Feel free to wait until it's actually Wednesday or to ignore this.

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WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by both @dear-massacre and @teencopandthesourwolf both who provided some delicious words. (highly lucky to get to read them)

I'm going to pull more from my Necromancer!Stiles Kyrkogrim!Derek

[...]

He could see the little lip leading onto the roof of the church and thought very briefly about climbing up there himself when he saw the black mass sleeping on it.

Stiles’ sucked in a breath as he saw the dark fur lifting in the wind. Derek’s tail was curled around his front paws, both underneath his muzzle and curled inward. Briefly he thought the wolf might be dead, but the slow, steady rise of his back indicated he was still breathing (though Stiles didn’t actually know if a Kyrkogrim needed to breathe) and the pointed ears flicked occasionally. Stiles slowly stepped onto the roof, inching closer to Derek as he did.

Everything in his mind was telling him not to, but Stiles reached a hand out to press against the black fur. It was coarser and denser than he had imagined, but as he sank his hand into the top coat and into the undercoat, he felt a little more of the softness he had expected. His hand almost completely disappeared into the inky blackness, eyes flicking over Derek as he began scratching the skin. Derek didn’t move from his spot, his body curled so tightly together that he looked like a fuzzy rock. Stiles could see the wolf looked tired and continued moving his hands up into the dark fur. A low whimper rumbled through his chest and Stiles moved one had to brush the cheek ruffs. The fur was softer, Stiles’ fingers running through it like smooth silk: it was possibly most luxurious thing he had ever felt in his life.

“Holy shit, do you only groom one place?”

All at once, the wolf let out a snarl and snapped at Stiles’ hand, teeth grazing over his flesh and drawing pinpricks of blood. Derek’s hackles raised and the massive paws pinned Stiles down to the roof of the church before wrapping his maw around Stiles’ throat. The fangs paused on his neck, Derek so close to snapping down and taking him out in one quick, death-stench bite: Stiles’ cock twitched in his jeans.

You shouldn’t be in the church.

Derek’s voice floated through his mind, the wolf still poised to rip down at any moment. Hot breath played across Stiles’ skin, sending gooseflesh up his arms as he thought about how this was probably the closest he had been to anyone he found attractive in… well, in forever. Even in wolf form, Stiles was finding it hard to concentrate on the words Derek was saying.

“Why?” Hesitantly, Stiles reached up and pressed his fingers through the soft fur on the wolf’s cheeks again. Derek’s tongue grazed against his throat and left a trail of cold spit on his warm skin, as if he wasn’t already turned on by this whole situation. He vowed that Jackson would never find out about this or he’d never hear the end of it.

Finally Stiles pushed Derek's head up from his neck so they could be eye to eye: human brown to supernatural red. “Oh, let me guess. Because I’m a Necromancer and I’ll profane it?”

Derek moved his paw from Stiles’ chest but didn’t pull back from the hands in his fur right away: like he wanted to keep the touch just a bit longer. It didn’t last long and Derek backed up on the roof again, eyes still like molten rocks gazing back at Stiles.

No, the wood is old and you might fall through the floor.

I'm going to tag: @cw0ffeefandomaddict; @hedwig221b; @whimsicalmeerkat;@definitivelydrivel; @rugbertgoeshome

@heavensenthale; @violetfairydust; @thotpuppy; @endwersed; @seaweed-water; and anyone else who wants to do this because everyone should!

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Prompt - Derek and Stiles are out on a date and Derek accidentally refers to Stiles as his hooker, instead of boyfriend.

There are SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS this could play out, though. Off the top of my head:

I.

“You,” Stiles hisses, prodding Derek in the stomach viciously enough to make him double over in pain, “are so going to suck my cock six thousand fucking ways from Sunday to make up for this.”

II.

“Derek?” Stiles calls out. “That dude left. You can come out from under the table now.”

“I’m sorry,” comes Derek’s muffled reply. “I’m so sorry, I have no idea what— I didn’t mean to—”

III.

Derek turns an exceptional shade of beet red after his slip of the tongue, but: “Yup, he, like, totally picked me up from a street corner and everything,” Stiles says without even batting an eye, “and then we just kind of fell in love. It was all very Pretty Woman. Any other questions?”

IV.

“Boyfriend, I meant boyfriend, okay?” Derek says frantically. “I meant to say boyfriend, I didn’t—”

Stiles is still staring at him.

“Please say something,” Derek says.

“I’m trying to process the fact that you just called me your boyfriend for the first time,” Stiles says slowly. “Like, twenty times. In rapid succession.”

Derek stares at him.

V.

The woman laughs disbelievingly. “Surely you’re—”

Champagne sloshes over the rim of Stiles’ glass when he sets it down, hard. “Excuse me?” he says in a sharp voice. “Wait, no, seriously, come again? Are you trying to imply that this mouth doesn’t look like it was made for sucking cock? Because—”

“Oh my God,” Derek says, and pulls Stiles away from the table.

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WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by the inimitable @dear-massacre for WIP Wednesday. Have part of the next chapter of Stasis. Maybe this will get me to finally edit and post it. Thanks for the tag!

~

"Tell me about the spell," Derek says, and Stiles seizes it like the olive branch he's pretty sure it is.

"The spell on Peter or the spell I'll have to do to break it?" he asks.

"Either. Both. You said something about a kitchen sink approach," Derek answers.

"Yeah, the person who cast this spell really had it in for Peter," Stiles says with a wince. "I mean, obviously they did, but this shit seems really personal. They wanted him to suffer."

Derek is pale. Stiles decides he'd better get to the little bit of good news.

"The other thing I've figured out is that this witch didn't really know what they were doing. They knew enough to keep him in stasis, but most of the things they built in couldn't get past the bonds he had with you and your sister."

"But now he doesn't have a bond to Laura," Derek says heavily.

"Yeah," Stiles says, "That's why we need to break him out of this as soon as we can. I'm concerned about his sanity if he's in the amount of pain I think he's in."

"I'm concerned about that even without taking the pain into account," Derek says.

Stiles nods. "That's why the bonds will be important."

"What about your friend?" Derek asks.

"Who? Scott?"

"Yes," Derek says. "He's a wolf. Surely having another wolf in the pack would be a better plan than just assuming you and Peter can bond as mates."

"First of all," Stiles replies, "you are severely underestimating how awesome I and my magic will be to have in your pack. Second, Scott is tied to Beacon Hills. He might leave for college, but he'll be back."

"You're very sure of that," Derek says.

Stiles shrugs. "I've known him since we were little kids. This is where he belongs."

"But not you," Derek asks.

It doesn't come out sounding much  like a question, and not just because of Derek's chronic refusal to intonate questions. Derek has only known Stiles a day, but he knows he's dropped enough hints about his home life, not all intentional, that Derek knows it isn't a happy one. He's pretty sure even if they weren't potential mates, Derek would be able to see how poorly Stiles fits in Beacon Hills. Add that to the mix and it has to be obvious.

Still, Stiles says aloud, "I don't belong here. Not long term."

"Where do you belong," Derek challenges.

"With you and Peter," Stiles promptly answers.

Derek looks like he wishes he hadn't asked.

-

No pressure tags: @yogi-bogey-box @renmackree @rugbertgoeshome @definitively-different-drivel @thotpuppy

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WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by the wonderous @hedwig221b and for once, I'm taking time to do it! Have some more of my Necromancer!Stiles

“She fell down the stairs –” Stiles started, but Lydia was already stepping down to the small stain on the ground. She removed the charm bracelet from her wrist and tucked it into her pocket, resting her hand on the ground. Stiles watched as Lydia closed her eyes and listened to the room around them, getting down on her hands and knees to press her ear against the floor. Minutes passed and Stiles stared at Lydia while she listened with her eyes closed, boredom creeping in like a fog. “Is she singing the Banana Boat song?”  “Shut up, Stiles.” “I’m just asking if you’re hearing anything.” Lydia sighed, “Music, bottles smashing, someone calling her name, someone crying they need to help her – someone saying they should go because they weren’t supposed to be there. And… and… someone asking me stupid questions so I can’t concentrate.” Stiles made a face at the dig. He could take a hint and decided to take a walk around the cellar, trying to see if there was anything else that could find. This part of the investigation wasn’t really something he could help with – while he could directly see and interact with the Eidolon guise once it had been summoned, Lydia was the only one who could find the Klotho. Balance and Partnership, Stiles repeated the mantra his mother said over and over when she was alive.  “Here!”  Jerking his head in her direction, he walked back to where Lydia was on her knees again, pulling a shimmering thread from the floor. It danced in the fluorescent light and looked as delicate as spiderwebs but Stiles knew it was as strong as steel. Nothing could snap the Klotho except a Banshee’s scream. Slowly she grabbed the little spool from her pocket and began spinning it around the wooden dowel until it was completely filled. Lydia handed it to Stiles, clapping her hands together as she stood up. “It’s not as long as we’d like it, but it should give you a good twenty minutes.” “More than enough time to confirm if it’s an accident,” Stiles agreed. He slipped the spool into his pocket and patted it a few times.

Low stakes tags: @cw0ffeefandomaddict; @rugbertgoeshome; @dear-massacre; @violetfairydust;

@endwersed; @thotpuppy; @keldjinfae; @teencopandthesourwolf; @definitivelydrivel;

I'm sure some (all) of you have been tagged already, but !

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WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by the auspicious and excellent @renmackree and @whimsicalmeerkat! I'll throw out a scene I like from the fic I'm working on for the Sterek Collabang. Stiles is half incubus, half sleep paralysis demon. He inherited an inconvenient combination of abilities that make it difficult to feed. Beyond that, he was starving at a pretty young age, which triggered sleep paralysis demon powers that trapped him in a seedy motel room. In this snippet, Stiles remember an encounter with a certain werewolf whose memorable entrance into his life left a mark and left Stiles with a tad more energy than normal. As such, he take some of that energy and gives himself some ill-advised yet enjoyable action for the first time. Note: Demon ≠ church style demon. In this they're supernatural beings with various specific abilities who 'eat' energy given off by emotions. In Stiles' case, he eats positive emotions.

Stiles couldn't get the image of the man masturbating out of his head. It was stupid. It was reckless, it was a bad idea, he knew he couldn't afford to waste the energy, but he couldn't help himself. The next time he took shape he sat at the head of the bed, dick in hand. It didn't look quite human, something about the shape of it, or maybe it was the way the angle changed depending on his thoughts, or maybe the fact that despite its sensitivity, it was more resilient, more able to handle his long, thin claws around its length, but it worked just the same. It felt good. Of course it did, but still, he'd never actually pleasured himself. He’d watched, of course he’d watched, he’d felt them in a second-hand sort of way through the leftover pleasure of others, but this? This was an entirely new experience. A few experimental strokes sent heat pooling in his stomach in a way he'd only experienced second-hand. Stiles closed his eyes. He remembered the way the stranger had smelled, alluring and edible, like something he wanted to sink his teeth into and eat up. He remembered the taste of his contentment, the shape of the man's dick as he'd unknowingly put on a private show. In Stiles’ mind's eye it was the other man's hands. He tried to imagine what it would be like, what it would feel like to get that delicious life-sustaining pleasure feedback while strong hands wrung him to completion. God, he wished so much that the man would come back, that, despite everything, he'd somehow magically want Stiles. He wanted that taste, that smell. He leaned back, stroking faster as he imagined the warmth of the man's thoughts, imagined a hell of a lot more than just a hand job. His tail swished along the bedspread, twitching in excitement; his wings curled along with his toes as he explored himself for the first time. He found he liked fondling his balls as he stroked, playing with the pressure and the angle and all the ways he could make himself feel. It didn't last. The novel feel of his own strong, long, lithe fingers sent him hurtling towards the edge until translucent fluids coated his stomach and chest. In demon form it showed its true color as it glistened in the light, iridescent. He was struck by how strangely pretty it was right before he dissolved into nothingness, taking his mess with him.

No pressure tags: @tkwritesdumbassassins @forceofcalm

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How do you write your Fics?

On my phone

On my computer

On paper (whether you later type it digitally or not)

Using voice

I don’t write them

Combination

(Pls add anything I forgot or anything that needs rephrasing, love the blog!!)

Also thank you anon! :)

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one, two, three, four, five

I saw @lucky-bishop do this, and it looked fun!

Rules: give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words (feel free to interpret however you would like; if not on AO3, can be on tumblr or FFN!).

Most Hits: Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame || 6,548 hits || T || Sterek

Second Most Kudos: You're Good || 563 kudos || E || Sterek

Third Most Comments: WolfTok || 30 comments || E || Sterek

Fourth Most Bookmarks: Late Night Devil || 48 Bookmarks || T || Steter

Fifth Most Words: Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame || 4,833 wc || T Sterek

Least Amount of Words: Tumblr Prompt Fills: Teen Wolf || 180 wc || Sterek

No pressure tags: @thotpuppy @endwersed @renmackree @adrianfridge and anyone that wants to

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April 2025 Prompts

Here are the Sterek Writers Events prompts for April 2025.

If you wish to participate, please be sure to tag Sterek Writers Events in any Tumblr story post and then add your work to the collection on ao3.

THE PROMPTS

APRIL 1st – 7th

•    Fresh Start

•    Goodnight Kiss

•    Shared Memory

APRIL 8th – 14th

•    Spring Rain

•    Muddy Trail

•    Walk in the Woods

APRIL 15th – 21st

•    Date for a Dance

•    Stranded or Trapped

•    Broken Pipe

APRIL 22nd – 28th

•    Fake Beau

•    Weekend Getaway

•    Inadvertent Admission

APRIL 29th – 30th

•    Mix and Match Free-For-All

THE DETAILS

Each week there are three prompts from which to choose. Sterek Writers are free to choose to write a story for a single prompt or all three prompts, or even combine them all into one piece.

Each prompt can be interpreted however the writer wishes to interpret them. The only limit is the writer’s imagination.

Each story can be any length, with any rating. So whether a writer wants to write a drabble, a ficlet, a one-shot, a novella, or even start a new WIP, it’s entirely up to the writer.

Stiles and Derek can be paired alone or with another character in a triad. Sterek can already know each other, or just be meeting for the first time.

Each week’s prompt is due for posting the last day of that week. However, if a writer misses a prompt or a writer wishes to combine prompts from different weeks, those stories are due the last two days of the month.

If a writer chooses to start a new WIP with any of the prompts, the writer can post the first chapter during the week of the chosen prompt or favorite prompt or wait until the end of the month and post it then. It’s entirely up to the writer.

TUMBLR POSTING TAGS

#sterek writers, #sterek writers prompt, #sterek writers 425, #sterek writers events, #sterek writers 425 event

AO3 COLLECTION FOR APRIL 2025 Posting: here

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Six Sentence (after) Sunday

I was tagged by the lovely and the talented @renmackree <3

Went over by a sentence, but I couldn't resist. I've been thinking about my nurse!Derek fic again.

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“What is it?”

“Oxycodone.”

“I’ll take the Advil and sell these for a mint.”

Derek smiled. “Don’t. Do you have any questions about the medication or your visit?”

Do you want to come back to my place and fuck me until I forget my name?

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No pressure tags: @dontcallpanic @dear-massacre @teencopandthesourwolf