#anyway the caption. watch out if u listen to this song you’ll be staring at the wall for a solid hour (source me)

[merevide]

you can listen to this song on repeat as long as you want. but Watch Out

[marvelouspeterparker]

A small imagine where singer!reader is dating tom and releases a really sexy song about him and tom watches the music video and he's like 🥵🥵🥵 plsss

this took me forever to respond to but i feel like with ari’s new album the timing is perfect now

18+ under the cut u know the vibes

i took a page out of @hollandbaby‘s book and used an ari song for this, but the music video concept is fictional! listen to ‘nasty’ while you read this if u want :)

–––

he didn’t even know you had filmed a music video recently, and he hadn’t even heard the song yet. he was in for quite the surprise. 

your music video was dropping at 12pm est and it was currently 11:55pm. you were currently on your way to his house for the next few months to spend the weekend. he was about to film the next spider-man film and luckily you had some spare time before work took you elsewhere. you were ten minutes away from his house and smiled as you felt your phone buzz with a notification, knowing exactly who it was from.

when you reached a red light, you opened it.

tom: ‘so excited to see you love :)’

you smirked as you typed out a response.

y/n: ‘you have no idea how excited i am to see you too tommy’

as the light turned green you set your phone aside and stepped on the gas. you smiled as you looked up and noticed a billboard with your album cover on it. you were excited for the fans to hear your new music, but especially tom. the entire album was essentially dedicated to him anyway. 

when you hit traffic you looked at your phone and realized it was already 12pm. you sent the link to tom with no comment before posting it to your story and set the phone aside. 

tom smiled to himself when he heard the notification, thinking you were telling him that you were close by but his brows furrowed when he noticed what you had sent. when he noticed the title of the song, he shook his head, that little minx. he decided to search it up on his tv instead, wanting to see it as clear as possible. he’d never pressed the controls on his remote faster. 

as the video started up he could feel his heart pounding. 

you got me all up in my feels in all kind of ways, i be tryna wait

the song started and the camera panned up your legs slowly to show you walking along a hallway in a house, your body shining thanks to some body glitter, a beautifully revealing gown on you, with two slits on the side to show your smooth legs. you glared into the camera lustfully and tom felt his pants tighten as he clenched his jaw, his mouth suddenly feeling dry but somehow salivating at the same time. 

i just wanna make time for ya swear it's just right for ya 

the way you were singing the song was so sensual, it felt like you were singing right to him. and the way you were looking into his soul through the camera, he could tell you really were. 

like this pussy designed for ya

you got down on your hands and knees and crawled to the camera slowly, like a predator alluring it’s prey. “christ––” 

don't wanna wait on it tonight, i wanna get nasty (yeah, yeah)

he licked his lips, his eyes completely entranced by you and the way you were moving. the camera panned to you laying on a bed in the prettiest lingerie he’d ever seen but then again, anything would look that pretty on you. 

what you waiting for?  what you waiting for?

you were staring up at the camera, mouthing the words as your hands ran up and down your body and tom could barely contain himself, he wanted to pick up his phone and ask you where you were because he was getting impatient but he didn’t want to miss a thing on the screen.

don't wanna wait on it tonight, i wanna get nasty 

for the whole rest of the video, tom’s mouth was wide open, his eyes completely hypnotized as he watched you, wondering how on earth he got so lucky. 

you slowly made your way to his house, unlocking the door quietly with your own key as you heard the song playing through his speakers. he felt blood rush to his heart and his cock when he saw the dedication at the end, ‘dedicated to my love.’ you chuckled to yourself when you stepped into the living room behind the couch and saw tom wordlessly replay the video. 

you stepped back and took your phone out to record him, enjoying the way he was completely focused on the video, sitting up with his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to see everything as much as he could.

after you posted to video to your story, captioning it ‘my inspiration approves of the song ;)’ you couldn’t keep in the laugh anymore. you set your phone and jacket aside before taking your shoes off and walking over to tom. he perked up instantly, looking at you in awe, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were real. 

his hands reached out for you and pulled you in to sit in his lap, your arms going around his neck as you looked down at him lovingly. “you gonna replay it for a third time?” you teased.

his eyes lit up playfully, “i think i deserve to, it is about me, after all.”

you nodded, a bright smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss him. he moaned into the kiss, his arms squeezing around your waist as you arched into him. 

he pulled away for a few split seconds, between kisses, not wanting to lose your lips or your taste. “that––” he licked his lips, trying to contain himself, “that lingerie you were wearing in the video––” he looked up at you hopefully. 

you interrupted him, amused and nonchalant, “oh you mean the one i’m wearing right now?”

you’d never seen his gaze darken so fast. he stood up immediately and you squealed as he practically dragged you to the room, one thing on his mind.

he stripped you down and when the lacy fabric came into his view he traced his hands over your skin softly, memorizing the look and the feel of you under his hands. he pushed you down to lay down on the bed and the way you were looking up at him, just as you were in the video made him curse as he tugged his shirt off. 

“you don’t have to give this back do you?” he asked as he played with the waistband of the bottoms. 

you bit your lip as you shook your head, “nope. it’s all mine.”

he grinned, “good, cause i’d really like to fuck you in it.”

he positioned himself between your legs, slid the fabric to the side and swiped his thumb between your folds, pleased to see how wet you were. seeing him all riled up because of a music video of yours did wonders to your ego and your sex drive. 

he spread your wetness around, making a proper mess between your thighs, before rubbing his thumb over your clit. you sighed and rolled your hips into his touch, yearning for more. when you became too needy, he slid a finger in, then when you begged for it, a second one. he was giving you everything you wanted, you more than deserved it after the treat you gave him.

soon he was pumping two fingers into you, rubbing against your g-spot just the way you needed as his thumb rubbed your bundle of nerves. you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut, your body arching and tensing as you tipped over the edge, your thighs trying but failing to shut closed. 

“that’s it, such a good girl.” 

when you came to again, your eyes opened to find tom scanning your body, his two fingers inside his mouth as he cleaned your wetness off of them, clearly enjoying the taste and the sight of you. 

he shrugged his sweats off, along with his boxers all in one go and quickly made his way back over to you. his hand rubbing your thigh soothingly as he positioned his cock at your entrance. he slid in easily, the two of you fitting like puzzle pieces and he bottomed out instantly, the both of you moaning into the sultry atmosphere of the room. 

his hands held onto you tight as he thrusted into you, eyes never leaving your body for a second. you looked like a goddess lying there underneath him, your body covered in that intricate lace design. he would never be able to get enough of you. 

“had me bulging through my boxers since i started the video, love. you know that?”

you looked up at him, your eyes bright as you pulled him down and locked your lips together. “couldn’t wait for you to see it. was thinking of you the whole time we filmed.”

he bit your lip smugly and turned his attention to your neck. he wanted these marks to last even after you left in a few days. “all mine,” he mumbled into your skin and your breath hitched as he sped up his movements. 

“gonna make me cum tommy, want you to cum with me.” your fingers gripped his curls, your other arm tightening around his back as he pounded into you.

“yeah baby? i’m close too, please cum with me, darling. that’s it.”

several thrusts, moans and curses later, tom was panting on top of you, the both of you trying to catch your breaths, as you lied there sweaty and satisfied.

he pulled out and lied next to you, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. “that video was really something, love.” 

you smiled cheekily, “wait until you hear the rest of the album.”

he let out a loud breath of air before pulling you closer to him by your waist and leaving a kiss on your forehead. “you’ll be the death of me, darling.”

you giggled but sat up when he got off of the bed. you tilted your head as you watched him, “where are you going?”

he turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “gonna go get the speaker. think i have the perfect album for us to listen to while we...” he looked you up and down, licking his lips teasingly. “get nasty, as you put it.”

[bibliosexxual]

accidentally?

Based on this prompt I said I’d fill a few days ago:

boss: “know why I called you in here?” me: “because I accidentally sent you a dick pic” boss: “accidentally?”

yup.

(on ao3)

“You need to stop pining after people you haven’t even spoken to,” Lydia says one day, probably because Derek—er, Mr. Hale, their boss—has just stepped through the front door of the cafe where they’re having lunch, and Stiles has trailed off mid-word to watch him walk up to the counter. In Stiles’ defense, he’s never seen Mr. Hale outside of the office before, let alone Mr. Hale wearing a leather jacket over his dress shirt. God, and Stiles thought the tailored suits were bad enough…

Anyway.

“Uh, I have too spoken to him,” Stiles says indignantly, tearing his eyes away from Derek’s broad back across the room. “One day I was coming out of the break room and I almost walked right into him and he said, ‘Excuse me,’ so then I said, ‘Oops,’ and he smiled at me. Kind of. A little bit. I mean, I interpreted it as a smile. There was some prolonged eye contact.”

Lydia abruptly stops stirring her fat-free latte to stare at him—one of those Oh god, it’s worse than I thought kind of looks. “That’s it?”

“No. I wasn’t finished,” Stiles says. “We also ate lunch together last Monday. I forgot to bring my lunch, so I was just eating a bag of chips from the vending machine and he offered me half his tuna sandwich.”

It had been one of the nicest office lunch breaks he’d ever had, actually. Stiles was sitting on the low brick wall at the edge of the picnic area, and to his surprise, Derek sat down there, too, in his probably-thousand-dollar suit, while Stiles gaped at him a little for doing it. 

Derek had then continued to sit there even after giving away the sandwich. It had been clear from the way he kept glancing at Stiles that he didn’t know what to say but he wanted to say something, so Stiles had prompted, “Got any weekend plans?” and Derek had said he didn’t have any, so Stiles had rambled for a while about his weekend plans, which involved going down to San Francisco for the weekend for a Bastille concert. Derek sat there and listened attentively the whole time, which, in Stiles’ experience, not many people would do. He also said he didn’t know who Bastille was. That was a little surprising, but then again, Stiles supposed Derek didn’t have a lot of time to absorb pop culture, what with running the foundation and owning a dog and all.

He’d obviously had a bit of time at that moment, though, so Stiles had pulled out his phone and played Derek some of their songs, and Derek had nodded his head subtly to the beat and smiled a little and instantly made Stiles’ crush on him a whole lot more intense.

“And that’s it,” he concludes now. “So do you think he’s into me at all?“

"How should I know? I’m not a mind reader.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Stiles mutters, thinking about all the times she’s guessed ahead of time what he was going to get her for her birthday and all the times she’s taken one look at him and known with an uncanny certainty that he’s just gotten laid or, more commonly, that he’s just spent the whole night playing video games and ignoring life’s responsibilities.

Now Lydia sighs. “Look, all I know is, office romances are tricky. Even if he is interested, he’d probably feel like he can’t ask you out because of the power dynamic. You’ll have to make the first move.”

“Yeah, right,” Stiles snorts.

Lydia raises her eyebrows like, I thought so. “Stiles…” she says, “as your friend who’s concerned for your happiness, I’m going to ask you something: Have you gone on a single date in the last month? The last six months?”

Stiles resists the urge to squirm under her knowing gaze. She could be a world-class interrogator if she ever wanted a career change. “Okay, but… I’ve been busy, okay? It has nothing to do with Der— Mr. Hale. As if. That’s ridiculous. Totally ludicrous.”

“I see,” Lydia says, unimpressed.

The next thing he knows, she’s installing a dating app on his phone and filling in a profile that’s a hundred times more charming and put-together than anything Stiles could’ve come up with on his own and finagling a promise out of him that he’ll at least give it a decent try.

Stiles gives his word, but privately he wonders if he can keep it.

It was actually Derek who inspired Stiles to apply to work at the Howls for Change Foundation to begin with. The local newspaper interviewed him a couple of years ago about the foundation, back when it was just starting up. Stiles had been just skimming, not planning to sit down and read the paper for half an hour, but that’s just what he ended up doing, drawn in by Derek’s interview—his enthusiasm and love for wolves, his eloquence in replying to the journalist’s questions, the accompanying picture of him… He was in jogging clothes, crouched on a trail out in the woods somewhere and hugging his German Shepherd while flashing the camera a rare, genuine smile so bright it made Stiles feel warm all over, and yeah, Stiles applied to this job about 75% because he loved wildlife conservation and about 25% because he wanted to see Derek Hale smile like that again, and possibly be the one to make him do it.

The feeling has only gotten stronger since then.

Derek likes to act like he’s just one of the employees, even though he’s not only the boss but also the organization’s founder. He has his own corner office, but he mainly just uses it for meeting with local policymakers and other bigwigs. The rest of the time, he has a cubicle where he plugs away on his laptop or just sits contemplatively, eating an apple or listening to music on an old CD player he keeps in the top drawer. He eats lunch outside in the picnic area with his employees, too, when it’s nice out. He brings bag lunches from home, which Stiles finds oddly charming.

Still, Stiles can see Derek is set apart. No matter how much he acts like he’s just an employee, no one ever forgets he’s the boss. When he walks into the break room, a hush always falls, and if they were talking about something gossipy or off-color before he walked in, they always hastily change the subject to something more workplace-appropriate and bland, like the weather or what’s for lunch, and Derek nods politely at them, gets his coffee, and leaves without a word. Stiles thinks he looks kind of lonely. He always comes off as hardworking and unpretentious, but he also doesn’t seem that fond of small talk or smiling, and it clearly makes a lot of people feel awkward around him.

For all the great work Derek is doing in the conservation world, he doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends.

Even so, the thought of Stiles asking him out and Derek actually saying yes… Well. It’s laughable, really.

So Lydia says, “Promise me you’ll at least try the app?” and Stiles says he will.

*

Two weeks and several mediocre first dates later, Stiles is sitting in a budget meeting at 9 a.m. on a Monday morning, poking at his phone under the table. He doesn’t make any attempt to stay on task first; whenever Greenberg starts talking in these meetings, like clockwork Stiles always gets this unbearable itch to look at his phone or pick at his nails or even just stare blankly out the window, anything but listen to him.

He deletes a dozen spam emails and replies to a couple punny texts from Scott from last night before he finally, reluctantly thumbs over to his unread messages on the dating app. By this point he’s not very optimistic. Turns out he was right to be, because someone has sent him an unsolicited dick pic.

Instinctively he sinks down a little lower in his seat. It turns out to be an unnecessary precaution, though. One glance around confirms it: the woman to his left is absorbed in doodling Power Rangers on her notepad, and the man to his right is gazing straight ahead into space, so zoned out he’s practically comatose.

Stiles looks back down at his phone.

It’s a nice dick pic, objectively. Very artistic, very tasteful. The guy, whose head is cropped out of the photo, is sprawled on his back on a turquoise sheet, soft sunlight falling on his naked torso, one long-fingered hand curled lazily around his erection. A+ for aesthetics.

Still, Stiles did not wake up this morning after only three hours of sleep (what can he say, he got distracted by Wikipedia again) just so he could see a complete stranger’s junk.

The sad thing is, this isn’t even the first time this has happened, or the third, or the fifth… Would it kill these guys to say hello first?

Stiles screenshots it, then pastes it into a new email to Lydia (he’s been keeping her apprised of his dating app adventures, at her insistence). He captions it with a grumpy, “guess how my morning is going.”

She’s the one who thought this app would be such a great idea in the first place. Maybe now, face-to-face with what Stiles has had to put up with on a daily basis for the past two weeks, she’ll finally admit the whole online dating thing was a bad idea and stop shooting him pitying looks whenever the subject of Derek Hale comes up.

After that, he blocks the dick-pic-sender and puts his phone away. Greenberg is still talking, still meticulously going over lots of hard-to-read charts, and Stiles’ gaze inevitably wanders to fall on Derek instead. Derek, who’s sitting at the head of the table, looking at something on his phone and not even trying to hide it.

Stiles supposes if you’re the founder of the company, you don’t have to pretend to be paying attention while Greenberg talks.

Derek’s phone buzzes in his hand; Stiles can just barely hear it. Derek taps at the screen while lifting his glass of water to his mouth, and then he must read something shocking because he simultaneously spits out his water all over his notes and starts coughing furiously, doubling over like he’s dying, his phone clattering to the table.

Greenberg momentarily stops his monotone speech, hovering like he’s not sure what to do, while pretty much everyone around the table freezes up except for the vice president, Boyd, who’s sitting next to him and never seems even remotely fazed by anything. He pounds Derek heartily on the back a couple times.

It seems to help. After a long half minute, the coughing fit passes. Derek looks up, red-faced, and rasps, “I’m okay.”

Hesitantly, Greenberg starts talking again. Derek straightens his tie and puts his phone away, and Stiles’ fellow employees go back to slumping in their seats with blank, I’m-bored-out-of-my-mind expressions on their faces, and that’s that.

Stiles can’t help wondering what it was Derek saw that got such a reaction out of him. Whatever it was, it’s guaranteed to be more interesting than this meeting.

Ah, well. Stiles will probably never know.

Or so he thinks until about half an hour later, when his phone buzzes with a new email from Derek—the only email he’s ever gotten from Derek, not counting the company-wide newsletters and memos.

It’s a good thing Stiles finishes pouring his coffee before taking a look at it, because otherwise he probably would have scalded the skin of his hand off and spilled coffee all over his shoes and the break room floor in the process.

The subject line reads, “re: guess how my morning is going.”

Stiles freezes.

Blinks.

Closes out of his email app and opens it again.

The email is still there. It’s still titled "re: guess how my morning is going.” Stiles didn’t misread it.

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t breathe for a solid five minutes while he lets the mingled surges of horror and adrenaline wash over him. It’s like one of those nightmares he used to have in high school where he’d stand up in class to give a presentation, only to look down and realize he was inexplicably buck-ass naked and everyone was laughing at him.

Finally he sucks in enough air to gasp, "Oh god. I’m dead. I’m so dead.” There’s no one else in the break room, but he still says it. It seems like the kind of momentous occasion that needs stating out loud to the universe.

Then he chugs his entire mug of coffee and speed-walks as casually as possible down the hall. A few people glance at him curiously from their cubicles, probably because he’s blushing so hard he looks like a tomato on the verge of a nervous breakdown, or possibly because no one runs in this office, anywhere, for any reason. Dignity is the name of the game. Stiles has none.

Stiles ignores them all in favor of diving into Lydia’s office and slamming the door shut behind him. He doesn’t care what work she might be doing; this is more important. This is a crisis.

She must get some sense of that from the look on his face, or maybe from the way he’s slumped back against the door and panting, because she doesn’t snap at him or even look that annoyed.

Stiles waves his phone at her and tries, in a rambling and adrenaline-fueled outburst, to explain. He’s not sure how much of it is actually anything bordering on English, but he thinks he ultimately conveys the important bits.

While he talks, Lydia rests her elbows on her desk, steepling her fingers, and looks intrigued. “So,” she says when he finally runs out of breath, “what did Derek actually say?”

“I don’t know!” Stiles says, only a little hysterically.

“You didn’t read the email?“

Stiles shakes his head, sheepish. She’s undoubtedly judging him so hard right now, and he knows, okay. He knows.

Lydia lets out one of her trademark "why am I surrounded by incompetence” sighs and holds out her hand for his phone. Stiles meekly hands it over.

Lydia unlocks it without asking him for the passcode, which suggests either that Stiles needs to make his passwords stronger or that they spend entirely too much time together. Then she reads, and Stiles chews on his thumbnail and practices the breathing exercises his therapist taught him.

Lydia hands his phone back after only half a minute, her expression softening to something almost sympathetic. That’s when Stiles truly comprehends how truly, apocalyptically bad this is. Lydia never looks sympathetic.

“Well?” Stiles croaks.

“It just says he’d like you to come see him in his office as soon as you get a chance.”

Stiles has never heard anything so ominous.

“You shouldn’t keep him waiting,” she says gently. “Go get it over with, and while you’re doing that, I’ll write you a glowing recommendation letter.”

A recommendation letter. To take with him when he gets fired. Oh god.

*

When Stiles edges into Derek’s office, Derek is standing over by the window. He looks stunning as usual, tailored suit perfectly accenting the powerful lines of his body, but his ears are kind of pink. He’s got out a bottle of wine and two glasses on a little trolley table; he must have an important meeting with a big client later today. Stiles will probably never find out about it, though, seeing as he’s about to get fired and all.

“Stiles,” Derek nods.

Stiles would reply, but he’s afraid nothing will come out but an unmanly squeak, so instead he just focuses on perching on the edge of the nearest chair. He’s never actually been in Derek’s office before. It’s very Derek; it reminds him of the woods, lots of earth tones and accents of green. If not for the circumstances, Stiles would probably find it calming. As it is, he’s not sure he would find anything calming right now, except maybe a Xanax.

“Do you know why I called you in here?“ Derek asks.

Oh god, does he have to say it out loud? It’s not like they don’t both know already. Stiles opens his mouth, and no words come out. His mind is one long internal scream. All he can do is clutch the arms of his chair and watch as Derek uncorks the wine and starts pouring it into the first glass with intimidating casualness. He looks like he’s not mad at all. It’s terrifying.

Finally Stiles manages to force the words out. “Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic.”

Derek stops pouring wine into the second glass. “Accidentally?”

“Yes!” Stiles says, latching onto that word like a lifeline. Is it even legal to fire someone for an accident? Well. Probably yes, if it results in somebody’s arm getting lopped off or something, but a dick pic isn’t quite on that level. Stiles hopes so, anyway. “And it wasn’t even my dick!”

Derek puts down the bottle of wine completely. “So… your boyfriend’s…?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Don’t have one.”

“So you’re saying you sent me porn.”

Stiles groans and drops his head to his hands. He can’t look at Derek right now; he’s already reached maximum mortification levels. “No, I, um, so the thing is, I have Lydia Martin down in my email contacts as ‘Divine Goddess,’ which alphabetically puts her next to you, so I accidentally emailed the dick pic to you when I meant to email it to her, and before you say anything, I know I’m not supposed to send explicit materials over the company email and I swear it won’t happen again.” Assuming Stiles ever gets another chance to use his company email, that is, but he’s not going to be the one to point that out.

There’s a long silence, and Stiles risks a peek up through his fingers. Derek is frowning at him, but not like he’s angry. More like he’s confused. “Isn’t Lydia married? To a woman?”

That makes Stiles forget for a moment about being embarrassed. He sits up straight, flailing his hands in a chopping motion. “Whoa, no, it’s definitely not like that. It’s not a flirting thing. We’re just friends, and you’re right, she and Allison are very happily married and I’d never do anything to get between that. Ever. It’s just, she set me up for an online dating profile recently and I kind of hate it because I keep getting dick pics, so that pic you saw was like, like a status update. Like, 'Look how terribly this is going, I hate all of these dudes sending me dick pics because none of them are you'—”

Shit. He bites his tongue so hard he’s surprised he doesn’t taste blood, because nope, what the fuck, that was not supposed to be a part of this conversation, and now Derek’s grip on the neck of the wine bottle has gone white-knuckled and he’s just staring at Stiles, all deer-in-the-headlights.

Not for the first time in his life, or even the hundredth, Stiles wishes he had the power to rewind the last ten or so seconds of what just happened and start over. Unfortunately, no such luck.

“Just to clarify, I didn’t mean to imply that I want you to send me a pic of your dick,” Stiles blurts. “I just meant in a, um, a purely romantic sense, no one on that app is as good as… yeah.” Stiles trails off because Derek’s eyes are continuing to widen, and that’s probably not good. “Oh god, I’m making this worse. I shouldn’t be allowed to talk.”

Derek still doesn’t say anything. Maybe it’s an interrogation tactic or maybe (probably) he’s just in shock.

Either way, Stiles feels compelled to break the silence. “Are you going to fire me?” he asks tentatively, after what feels like the longest and most awkward minute of his life to date.

Derek finally blinks and relaxes his death-grip on the wine bottle. “I’d be crazy to fire you. You’re one of my best employees.”

“Except for the whole dick pic thing,” Stiles points out, risking a smile, and Derek smiles back. Stiles feels a little of the oh-god-I’m-about-to-get-fired tension leave him, and in its place the usual oh-god-I’m-in-the-presence-of-Derek-Hale tension starts creeping back in. That’s a lot more familiar, and a lot more exciting.

“Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t…” Derek starts, looking away out the window and then nervously meeting Stiles’ eyes. “I didn’t mind the dick pic thing so much. Not when it was from you.”

It’s Stiles’ turn to stare in shock.

Derek spins jerkily on his heel and picks up one of the wine glasses and starts chugging it down, and okay. Maybe Stiles isn’t the only one who’s pretty nervous right now. That thought makes Stiles a whole lot less nervous, and he stands up and moves around the desk while it lasts. Derek turns his head a little. Stiles reaches up and takes the glass away and sets it down on the table.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— It’s not professional—” Derek starts.

“I would send you a picture of my dick if you asked,” Stiles blurts, and it feels like one of the bravest and most romantic things he’s ever said.

“I would send you one, too,” Derek says, blushing furiously.

That basically shreds the last bit of Stiles’ self-control. He grabs Derek’s fancy silk tie and tugs, and, before he can second-guess it, kisses Derek Hale the way he deserves to be kissed, thoroughly and so enthusiastically that Derek ends up sinking back to lean against his desk like his knees just won’t hold him up anymore.

“So, just to clarify,” Stiles pants, resting a hand on Derek’s chest and thrilling that he can do that now, “I’m definitely not fired.”

Derek rolls his eyes and pulls him back in.

(end)

[keerawrrr]

so yesterday I mentioned Juicy dealing with some news with his sisters. well he asked me in the morning if he could come over after work, I was like sure, I'm here for you whenever.....so he comes thru, I feed him, provide his fav soda and our fav Spanish snack; we watch friends, talk and laugh for a bit. I make him share a dream he was sposed to tell me the other day (before our big blow up) and then I share two of mine with him lol my shit was bonkers; I finally ask him what's up with his sisters; he relays everything, and I can see how upset he was, I give him a lil advice from my perspective and if I were in such a situation but I know it's a SLIM chance, he gon do anything I would when it comes to his family lol -eye roll-...anyway so he relaxes a bit and gets to cuddling me; he ends up going into my room and relaxing, I follow, we talk some more and laugh, I help him with a H&R survey, we find him a phone case online...eventually he starts staring into my eyes n complimenting me, stroking my hair and having me lay across him or him lay up under me, pressing me to him and we make out lol he gives me and inch and I try to take a mile...unsuccessfully lol but I DID get to put my hand down the back of his pants and hold one of his cheeks for a very long time without him freaking out lol #Victory 😂😂 We did have a convo about the first time we became attracted to eachother and when we realized how close we were, cuz honestly both things jst kinda came outta nowhere; he's a guy and I know him and another dude would eyeball me and snicker about my boobs or ass but to actually BE interested in each other or start giving a fck about each other, we dnt have a starting reference lol all I have for sure is the day he stood up for me wit a customer, almost beating they ass; the first time he grabbed my waist and moved me out the way in drive thru and the first time he told me he would eat me out; all 3 were major shockers for me lol but ANYWAYYYYY; he also told me he loved me twice (that's always something I'm gonna mention, like yea it's old news but so what lol), After all the bed wrestling, he was ready to go; had to catch the bus. I get a text from one of our managers saying she's at the gym so I figure instead of him catching the bus, I can jst drop him off since it's in the same area. as I'm JST checking my msgs, he falls asleep snoring on the bed; I tap him like aye wake up, u snoring, he denies it, claims he wasn't even asleep lol oooook....I start getting dressed and the muhfcka falls BACK to sleep, so I grab his phone and record him on his snapchat with a nice lil caption & then a pic of me snickering with "goteeeeeeeeeem" 😂😂 I finally wake him back up, get him up and about and we dip out. we're riding and he's singing along to the radio and stuff, browsing cars on CraigsList, he seems OK. I drop him off, we hug and before he closes the door he goes "Thanks Cherokee, fa real..." and idk what to say so I jst blow him a kiss. I get to the gym and he texts me saying that I really helped him out today, I made him forget everything he was dealing with

ends up sending me 4 videos, all with a song playing, I make sure I listen to them all twice and when I tell u them bitches were ACCURATE! man, it was SOOOOOO sweet; like for u to know Juicy, you'd be like damn dude....lol so here's both verses he sent:

"I reminisce, on the first time we ever kissed, In the devilish world you my only angel. Cancel concerts to stay with you and watch cable, kiss your navel, candlelights on the table; You never cared if I was financially stable...12 years, to me it feels like 12 minutes; My love for you sees no limits"

"its paradise no matter where we at, The movies, the club, Six Flags, the Super Track; I was a dropout, no education whatsoever but you stuck with me through all kinds of fucked up weather, hoping days'll get better like I said they would....They said "Stand by your man", and there you stood. I was 17, now I'm 29 and I pray you'll be mine 'til the end of time"

& I actually liked this part myself after listening to the song twice:

"You take the breath from me, make my life heavenly, I can't believe the way the good Lord is blessin' me. One in a million, mother of my children; me without you like car without engine. You listen to my dreams that I vision, respect that I smoke Mary Jane, it's like my religion. The pigeons, sometimes make you worry but I can see , you know my vision ain't blurry" -SPM, MISS PERFECT

I didn't KNOW it was SPM until I asked his ass twice to tell me so I could download it lol; he loves SPM (well most Hispanics do lol) but bitch I was all in 17yr old first love dedication mode lol

this dude man, he surprises me more and more everyday....and I'm glad he knows that bullshit aside (petty ass arguments), when shit gets serious I'm here for him (cuz our argument wasn't over 10 seconds when the shit with his sisters started and I switched gears to focus on him even tho we were JST pissed at each other a few ago lol)....I even remember him saying earlier in the night that it's not jst physical between us and I looked at him like no shit, u ain't gotta tell me that. I told him, I know it's not, I know what we have...I said even tho what we have makes me wanna rip your clothes off and rape u, I know we're not JST that, he started cracking up 😂 😂

but man....fck, I jst love him lol OK I'm done lol I'm done