#i've known roughly how & when it happens since i started the fic but finally got down to the details. peak fic writing feeling right there

[vinelark]

happy friday! here is a little bbts chapter 5 proof of life

When Tim comes down again his mouth is full of blood—bitten cheek—and his whole head throbs, an almost fizzy numbness flooding through his jaw in the sudden absence of pain. He struggles through another wheezing breath, wincing at the familiar sensation of torn muscles around his rib cage. “Ah,” Checkered Shirt is saying. “There does seem to be a localized paralytic effect. That last placement may have been counterintuitive; my mistake. But as we discussed, that’s the beauty of mistakes in a setting like this. The opportunity to learn from them.” Tim tips his head. Clumsily spits a mouthful of blood on the metal floor—evidence, he thinks hazily, if he moves me—and finds his tongue. “Funny how you still haven’t gotten what you want,” he half-slurs, “considering how many opportunities you keep having.”

[muskywolfthings]

Hi! I'm new to your page. I had just come across your a03 page, and I've gotta say, I love your work, especially the one entitled, "The Bet". Are you still taking ideas? If so, could you do another foot fetish story involving Scott and Sheriff Stilinski? Perhaps, Scott stops by to visit Stiles, but he's out. Noah then invites him in to wait for him to get back. Somehow, Scott's foot fetish is triggered. (my message is about to be cut off, so i'm going to send a follow up to this)

((This ones taken me a while to get to, so I apologize Nonnie! I just have to be in a very particular mood for the Sheriff, you know to write about him? He’s an incredibly sexy man to me, but his image is tainted a bit in my mind since realizing people write him in a lot of fics as um…lets just say a breaking point in one of the biggest ships of the show, in the most disgusting way, and its put me off of his character in fics. But every now and then i’ll forget the trauma of it all and want him as my daddy, so….here ya go XD Hope you didn’t lose faith in me, nonnie!))((Oh, and Sheriff will always be John to me, I’m too deep in fandom to care about what they say his real name is ;3))“What happened to your key?” John called, blocking the sun from his eyes with one hand as he watched Scott pause on his way up the side of the house, the only other window then the farthest in the living room here the one on the second floor. Stiles’ window. Obviously. “Uh…think it got lost somewhere in the woods? Last time I tried to use my claws to open the front lock you had to have the door replaced.” Scott reminded the older man, blushing as the memory of having to sit and watch he and Stiles dry and glue the splintered wood back together, before deciding they needed a new door altogether. An embarrassing, if not eventful day.“Stiles keeps his window lined these days, no way for you to get in even if you wanted to. I doubt the Alpha thing comes with the ability to break past every barrier. Come on inside, I’ve got a spare somewhere.” John instructed, leaving no room for argument as he made his way back around the front of the house and inside. About to kick off his work boots to get a few hours rest before his next shift, but Scott came crashing in-none of the grace you’d think a werewolf would possess following him, and they both nearly fell over. John managing to grip the hall table as Scott continued past and to the floor. Head next to his boot, and John would be lying if he said he wasn’t embarrassed by the obvious sniff and retreat Scott game towards his feet. “Sorry bout that, twelve hour shift, Stiles didn’t do the laundry this week like he was supposed to, so it was doubling up on dirty socks. I don’t even wanna know how bad they smell to you.” He laughed, trying to play it off as he shut and locked the door, completely oblivious to the way Scott’s head followed after his feet, breathing in through his mouth and adjusting his crooked cock in his jeans. 

“Stiles isn’t home, he’s out at the Hale house, doing god knows what with that man.” He had his suspicions, but he couldn’t help but wonder if two people who hated each other so much could actually be hiding a relationship. Or if anything some sort of intense sexual tension they needed to release every once in a while. He was spending more and more time over there, or at the loft Hale had purchased and begun renovating. But every time he came home he was even more frustrated then when he left. They were going to need to talk about that at some point. Maybe when the dark side of John’s mind could get past the flashes of pale skin, size difference- his boy getting stretched and fucked and taken by someone with a no doubt impressive….yeah. He was going to hell, he’d come to terms with it, but that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to have that conversation if he couldn’t keep flaccid while doing it. End of story.

Taking a seat at the kitchen table and swinging a leg up onto his knee, he began unlacing his boots- not expecting Stiles back for a few hours, and that would give him time to air out the house before dinner. He gestured Scott towards the nearest drawer, as he finally slid his boot off with a sigh- wiggling his toes in his drenched sock, and leaning back as the intense foot funk hit his nose. “Jesus…extra key is in that drawer, make a copy or two if you need them.” He explained, reaching down to rub the knots in his toes with a low moan, the scent of his feet now as familiar as the musk coating his fat nuts at the end of a long day. Always took a second to get used to, but much like the former, he almost couldn’t get enough of it after he started.And neither could Scott. His eyes had gone read, reflected back at him through the window above the sink as he rummaged through the drawer, setting the key out finally on the counter, and rutting against the drawer hard enough to creak the metal sliding inside. John frowned, peeling off his sock and sniffing it, before tossing it aside- taking in Scott’s hunched shoulders, and labored breathing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he was doing. Sure it took the sheriff a few moments to catch on, but when he did, he wasn’t sure what to do. And throughout his now rigid, almost tough exterior, the sound Scott made when he spoke reminded John of when he and Stiles were young. “I’m sorry.” He whined, humping against the drawer again, and slamming it back into the rest of them with its intensity. A high pitched noise escaping between his teeth as his ears lengthened, before flattening against his skull as he looked over his shoulder at John. ‘I don’t….it smells…..fuck, I…sorry.” He was breathing so quickly John thought he might pass out, so he allowed himself just another moment to think, before picking his sock back up and tossing it over to Scott. Smirking as the boy caught it, pupils widening until the red of Scott’s eyes were nothing but slits, and he dropped to his knees. Growling as he tore the sock apart. Sniffing and licking the fabric, claws shredding it up as he did so, until there was nothing but strips and lint in a pile underneath him. “Reel it back and i’ll let you taste the real thing.” John couldn’t help himself. He felt like a pervert, holding his sweaty foot out for his sons best friend- images in his mind of Stiles when he was young, always wanting to rub John’s feet for him after his nightly patrol. Often times even kissing his toes, and John wanted to cry because it felt too good. Knowing his son practically worshiped his rank feet before bed- he’d smell it on his cheeks and lips when he’d kiss him goodnight. But right now was about Scott. Claws digging holes into the linoleum, before they retracted finally, and he scrambled across the floor to take John’s foot into his hand like it was something precious. Running his nose along the wet sole, sliding it in between his toes, before he finally allowed himself a taste. Wrapping his tongue around each toe, before sliding those plump, fang bitten lips over the biggest. Both of them moaning, John thrusting up into the hand he hadn’t even known was stroking his cock through his khakis. A wet spot already where the head was, and when he brought his hand up, he could smell his cock. Balls. Dirty and ripe, man stink at its finest. Scott could smell it too, the spike of sour earthiness, and the barest hint of cum. It drove him while, as he huffed on John’s foot like his life depended on it- his own big crooked cock out and dripping freely, foreskin pulled back tight to expose the shiny red head, throbbing. John pulled his free foot back to remove his boot and sock quickly, before lifting the warm foot up to play with Scott’s balls. Kneading them against his taint with the tops of his toes, as Scott’s cock jerked wildy and leaked all over the top of his foot. It wasn’t long before John made him switch, releasing his own cock when the quietest murmurings of ‘Daddy daddy daddy” could be heard around the boys mouthful. He needed to cum, and he was going to cum with this sweet boy taking pleasure from a mans feet. A mans funky fucking toes and stink. God, John was going to cum so hard. Maybe see if Scott would let him cum on that filthy face of his. “Who’s your daddy.” John’s voice sounded strange to even him. Too loud, too deep, too authoritative, but he loved it. And so did Scott. He froze, grinding his cock down between John’s toes as he met his gaze. “You are.” He spoke quietly, but fiercely, before licking a long stripe up John’s foot, before swallowing down his big toe like it was a cock, and Scott was thirsty for cum. “Want something to suck on, baby? Get your ass up here and swallow daddy’s cock. Come on, I see you wiggling your nose up at me. See if you can take it down to the root, get that nose in my nasty bush.” He was leaking just as much as Scott now, as he lifted his cock with one hand, and slapped it against the palm of his other. Sliding fingers beneath the foreskin to flare up the stink of old piss droplets, and cum that had stuck around after a quick morning jerk, and not a lot of time between lunch and his usual rounds. Scott roared, worrying the sheriff for only a second, before he was angling his cock between both of the older Stilinski’s feet, fucking into them quickly as he did just as John had asked him too.He wasn’t very skilled, but he took him down his throat, and for a man on an impressive, girthy eight and a half inches, it was quite the feat for a teenage boy who might have only taken one or two boy cocks into that slutty mouth of his. “Never had a daddy cock, have you boy? Never tasted a mans cock? Bet you wanted your dads. Maybe even coach at school? Huh? Ever think about them when jerking this cock?” He asked roughly, squeezing almost too tight with his feet around Scott’s cock, causing him to choke and pull off of the sheriffs cock. Trying to fuck into the too tight crevice of his feet. ‘Yes! Fuck, wanted their cocks so bad!” He shouted, almost as angry as John loosened his hold, and shoved Scott back down on his cock- gripping the hair he’d started growing out again, and fucking deep into his throat- the gagging, wet, slurping sounds coming from below- the tears and ferocity in Scott’s eyes as their gazes met again, it was all to much. “Gonna fuck cum. Don’t swallow it.” He ordered, pulling back to strip his dick in Scott’s mouth. the boy suckling at the head till John seized up off the chair and began to shoot. Grunting through every spasm, every spurt of hot cum into Scott’s mouth. Filling it up so much he could feel a pool of it around the head of his cock.Sitting back with a loud thump, and a gasp of breath, he ordered Scott to open. His mouth full of thick white cum, and John had enough energy to slide two fingers inside. Along the boys tongue, before bringing them back to taste his own spunk. Scott cried as he came across the sheriffs toes, and all over the floor. Obediently doing as he was asked, licking up the floor till there wasn’t a spot left, and cleaning himself up. “Take these home.” John sighed, still trying to catch his breath as he tied the laces of his boots together and tossed them at Scott’s feet. “Print those keys, come around any time you want another taste of that. Or if you ever want that hole fucked by a real name….and don’t tell Stiles.” He added offhandedly, lifting a brow as Scott chuckled, and shook his head. “Stiles doesn’t do the laundry so he can steal your dirty underwear and get off with them when he’s alone. Maybe talk to him sometime.” The sheriff had called him out, but the idea of incest firmly on the table, and found Scott had the same thoughts. Between the two of them, he didn’t see anything wrong in possibly giving Stiles what he wanted.Even if he had a constant source of stink and dick with Derek.But that was neither he, nor the sheriffs business.