BleedingBlueKunoichi

How bodies decompose

Wilderness survival skills

Mob mentality

Other cultures

What it takes for a human to die in a given situation

Common tropes in your genre

How bodies decompose

Wilderness survival skills

Mob mentality

Other cultures

What it takes for a human to die in a given situation

Common tropes for your genre

Grab your favorite v-neck and packs of reeses and join the merriment! For the fifth year running the best Steter Secret Santa out there is back and better than ever!

The Plan

It’s pretty simple and organized like most secret santas: you’ll be assigned to another participating person and make them a gift. This can be anything such as a gifset, graphic, fanfic, video, playlist, etc. It’s all pretty much up for grabs. This is just for fun so don’t stress about it being the best thing ever (everyone in this fandom is awesome and pretty easy going).

You can join until November 6th

Sign ups:  https://stetersecretsanta1.wufoo.com/forms/zya4gz21tpeaor/      just fill out the quick form and you are ready to go.

Assignments will be sent out November 8th via email

On December 21st the exchange will take place

Other Things

I’ll try to pair people up according to their preferences but I do not promise miracles.

If you find out that you can no longer participate message me asap.

word count minimum for fics is 500 words.

If you want to message your assigned person to ask them any questions please do it anonymously. Be as mysterious as Peter is on the spiral staircase of sass.

On December 21st  when things are posted tag your assigned person so they see it or at least let them know it’s on ao3 or whatever. Also if you want to tag anything for this project use  “steter secret santa 2018”. An AO3 collection will also be made

Most importantly: HAVE FUN and don’t be an asshat but this fandom shouldn’t have any trouble with that.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for the right person to come along,” Derek argues. 

“Yeah, cos the right person is just going to fall out of the sky.”

And then about a second later Stiles Stilinski falls off a ladder and into Derek’s arms.

And that is how they meet.

But honestly, even a canon compliant fic of this scenario is still beautiful. Derek catching Stiles bridal style and there is a moment of awkwardness before Derek just dumps him onto the ground.

You’re the best <3. And I tried. I’m not sure this worked. But I hope you like it!!!!________________

“Do you really think you can beat me at this?” Derek’s eyes dart across, resting on Stiles, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. They’re currently on the 80 making their way across country to Pennsylvania to see a warlock about a spell, and after endless rounds of madlibs, a vicious argument over what constitutes good music, and a heated debate about which Avenger is the coolest, this is what they’ve been reduced to. God. Stiles is by far the most infuriating, intelligent and outright sexy person Derek has ever known, and for the last two years he’s been nursing the most ridiculous crush. Unrequited crush. Which he now has to somehow keep in check for the next few days, while they’re travelling together on pack business. He isn’t sure he can manage it to be honest. Stiles is all there. In his face. Being all snarky and perfect. Derek just wants to lean over the centre console and bite him. In a sexy way.

Across from, Stiles grins. “Do you really think I can’t?”

“Have you forgotten that I had two sisters?”

“Have you forgotten that I’m the world’s most persistent person?”

“Are you sure you’re not confusing persistent with annoying?”

Stiles hesitates, his eyes narrow. “Did Cora used to kick your ass at this game?”

Derek purses his lips, unnerved. Snipes back, “Did you used to practice this all alone in your bedroom?”

“Do you really wanna know what I used to practice all alone in my bedroom?” Stiles grins, shark like, and Derek wills himself not to blush. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and feels it groan a little under the strain.

“Do you like being a dick?” he mutters.

Stiles snorts with laughter like he knows he’s won something, he waggles his eyebrows and says, “Why? Do you like dick?” All brash and cocksure, like he’s certain of the answer. Like he assumes– Oh. Oh God–Like he assumes Derek’s going to say no.

Derek takes a deep, cleansing breath. Willing himself calm, he glances over at Stiles, catches his eye, lets his gaze linger, and says ever so casually,  “Why? Do you like to top?”

Stiles’ lips part slightly, like he’s almost about to smile, but he’s uncertain. “Do you– Are you–” Stiles begins, but hesitates, a splotchy blush is spreading up his neck, and over his cheeks, and, bruising the air around him, the scent of Stiles’ arousal. Derek allows himself to smile, even as his heart picks up in his chest.

“Are you going to finish that question?”

Stiles scrubs his hands across the knees of his jeans, like maybe they’re a bit sweaty, says acidly, “Are you going to let me?” He seems jittery. The scent of arousal growing stronger, but his eyes are strangely serious, and it occurs to Derek that this might not just be lust– that maybe Derek’s not the only one that’s been nursing a crush.

His eyes flit to Stiles. “Do you want to know what I’d let you do to me?” The words linger between them. Full of promise. Derek can hear Stiles heart beating rabbit quick in his chest, and suddenly he knows exactly where this is going.

Stiles eyes narrow, his lips go tight. He inhales shakily. “Would you– let me fuck you?” His voice breaks slightly over the words.

“Would you finger me first?” Derek says glancing down at Stiles’ hands again. God. He’s always loved Stiles’ hands. Just the thought of those fingers is enough to have him chubbing up in his jeans.

Stiles runs his tongue over his top lip. “Would you let me blow you?”

Derek releases a punched out little breath at the thought. Stutters out, “D-Do you want to?”

This time, when he chances a glance at Stiles, Stiles’ complexion is a ruddy, his mouth parted, pupils blown. They hold each other’s gaze. “Are you messing with me?” Stiles breathes.

Derek swallows, reaches out a hand, places it on Stiles’ knee. “Do you really think I would, about this?”

“Are you going to pull over?” Stiles says, voice tight and soft.

Derek squeezes his knee. “Will you check your phone and find out where the next motel is?”

“Why?”

Derek looks at him, smiles. “Why do you think?”

-

Later, when they’re stretched out naked and sweaty on a bed in a motel 6, Stiles turns to him and says, “Did we just make love?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, lazy and sex stupid. “Yeah I think we did.”

“I win!” Stiles yells, sitting bolt upright in the bed and punching the air.

Derek scowls.

“Don’t look at me like that. That was not a question, buddy.”

Derek grabs him, rolls him over so he’s lying on top of Stiles chest to chest. Bares his teeth. Says, “Did you know that you’re an asshole?”

Legolas showing up late on a half sunk raft holding up Gimli: HEY EVERYONE I MADE IT! MEET MY DWARF GIMLI! WE TOTALLY GOT MARRIED!

The other elves: (⊙_⊙)

Galadriel: this is hilarious. I love it! I completely and utterly give my full approval!

Other Elves: YOU ARE DEFINITELY THE FIRST ELF TO DO THIS, YES!!!

Legolas: …Oh.

*whispered conversation with Gimli*

Legolas: Well tough beans if you want your own dwarves you’ll have to sail back for them yourselves.

He decided some time before that of he was going to be forced to do this her might as well have fun with it right? So he goes to lush and buys one of the black bath bombs, and cuts it in half.

Now fast forward to the day of and he is wearing a small harness under his shirt that is keeping both haves of the bath bomb one either shoulder blade.

He volunteers to get baptised

They take him up put him in the white robe and then he waits for his turn. Now the friend who invited him had no clue what he is doing. They are pleasantly surprised to see him participating.

Honestly. A mistake on their part.

I only knew this guy for a max of 45 minutes and I could already tell this dude was a chaos entity.

So his turn comes up and they go to dunk him and the water immediately starts to foam and turn black and he starts screaming like a banchee jumps out the water and hisses at the priest

Everyone fucking lost it and her was banned from ever attending that church again.

When the box is opened, Stiles spots the bright blue beads that remind him of Derek’s eyes. When another bag is popped open and Stiles sees the moon pendant he calls dibs loudly and snatches it off the floor. 

Derek is probably on the other side of the house reading and pretending like having them all over doesn’t thrill him. After they’re finished there’s pizza and a movie and video games and a wrestling match and mostly everyone forgets about the bracelets until the end of the night.

They’re all shuffling out the door when Stiles goes over to where Derek has resumed reading and tugs the book out of his hand rudely. Derek reprimands him but Stiles is holding out his bracelet, dangling between two fingers. 

“I made you a friendship bracelet,” Stiles tells him. He’s pretty proud of it. 

Derek just stares at it, taken aback, even as he reaches out and takes it from Stiles. Stiles just laughs at him, “you don’t have to wear it, or anything,” Stiles assures him, and then without another word he sort of flounces off after the others. 

Stiles doesn’t actually expect Derek to do more than wait until Stiles is gone before tossing them bracelet. But, then a few days later when Derek reaches for something and his sleeve slides down Stiles sees the bracelet secure around his wrist. 

Stiles beams for days. Thinks he might have to reconsider the friendship part of the bracelet.

Meanwhile, Derek is probably unsure whether this was a friendly friendship bracelet or if this was a gift from a potential suitor. Was Stiles wooing him? 

Derek did not know what to do. Cora was only mildly sympathetic. 

“What do you want it to mean? She asks.

“I don’t know.”

Do you want  him to be wooing you?” 

“I don’t know.”

“What if I told you it mean’t nothing?” Cora asks. Derek’s head snaps up to look at her and he asks,

“Why did he tell you something?”

And Cora laughs in his face and says, “No. But now we know how thirsty you are for Stilinski, you’re an embarrassment to the Hale name,” Cora informs him.

She’s probably not wrong about both of it.

Stiles sighed, far louder than he would if his faculties were not soaked through with alcohol, and licked his lips.

Derek looked fine. Damn fine.

It was a good thing, Stiles thought, that everyone in the room, even the wolves, were just as sloshed as he was. ‘Cause otherwise they’d be able to smell just how turned on he was by Derek. They also probably wouldn’t all still be naked after their evening run, either, though.

Derek, in Stiles’ completely unbiased opinion, was rocking the whole skin-is-in vibe better than any of them. 

It wasn’t wasn’t just because the obvious, either. Oh, Stiles could happily rant and rave — until the moon danced around the earth and back again — about Derek’s perfectly round nipples and the astonishingly exquisite V of his Adonis belt and his superbly furry chest and the impeccable cut of his abs and well, now that Stiles’ had got a look at it for more than a few seconds? Even the man’s cock looked exquisite: long and thick, with a magnificently generous foreskin and heavy, low hanging balls that Stiles just wanted to suck inside his mouth and…

Stiles sat back and hoped no one noticed he was hard, or drooling. Thankfully they were all, apparently, too focused on the fact that Derek had just downed his third wolf’s brew in a row. He was beating the Markowitz pack’s alpha by at least half a glass.

What really turned Stiles on, more even than all of the above, was that Derek was letting himself relax and enjoy and be something akin to what he might have if not for all the shit that Beacon Hills had thrown at him over the years. 

He looked happy.

“Hale’s going to beat Dad,” Alexandr, the future Markowitz alpha, moaned as he slid a little closer. He’d been friendly with them all, but a little more so with Stiles. The attention was nice. Even if it could go nowhere because of distance and pack politics and the fact that Stiles was very much head-over-unrequited-heels for his own grumpy alpha. “You’ll help me deal with the shame, won’t you, Stiles?” Stiles could practically hear the guy’s lashes fluttering.

Then he heard a crunch and crash and turned around and Derek’s eyes were rage-red and he was bleeding around the shards of shattered beer glass in his hand. He was making a sound Stiles didn’t think he’d ever heard before — a low, warm rumble that seemed to come from under his lungs rather than in them. His fangs had dropped.

Stiles caught, out of the corner of his eye, the sharp movements as Alexandr bent his neck and then most everyone else followed.

The Markowitz alpha didn’t quite go that far, but the man sounded contrite, even to Stiles’ drunk ears. “Our apologies, Alpha Hale. We didn’t realize Mister Stilinski was spoken for. I’m sure my son meant no offense.”

Stiles blinked and tried not to notice that Derek’s body, all of his body, was at attention, ready to fight: the knot was difficult to miss. He summoned his own voice, hoping that it didn’t waiver. “Derek?”

Derek shifted his gaze from Alexandr to Stiles, his eyes fading back to green. He blinked a few times and seemed to focus his gaze on Stiles and flared his nostrils and.

Stiles could not not notice that Derek’s still-hard cock twitched.

Oh.

Stiles was spoken for.

please

Of course, a lady’s Sarlaac Pit is designed to accomodate rather large things. That does not, however, mean that it is comfortable or fun to have those large things in your hermetically-sealed shame basket, not to mention have it ramming repeatedly against your cervix. Ow fucking ow.

Contrary to popular belief, bigger is NOT ALWAYS BETTER.

A rectum can be between 5-7 inches deep. A pliable dildo could push past that, taking that sharp curve into the large intestine, if you’re patient and flexible and you have a lot of lube at your disposal. And you don’t mind things being in your INTESTINES, oh my God. A hard dick, however, that isn’t so bendy, would be another story entirely.

So if you’re shooting for realistic sex and your bottom isn’t into pain, you may want to reconsider giving your top anything over 7-8 inches of dick. 10+ inches might sound awesome but like Communism, for most people at least, it’s better in theory than it is in practice.

This very NSFW and TMI-imbued post brought to you by all the fucks I do not give.