bottom!Derek appreciation life

Okay, but can we all just take a moment to think about Stiles’ unhealthy worshipping of Derek’s ass? Like, it gets to the point he uses it as a pillow. He drools on it. Derek would find the whole thing utterly disgusting but Stiles is kind of adorable when he is all tuckered out and drooling- lord help him, he’s sickeningly in love and he hates it. 

Alright, but here’s the thing. Here’s the fucking thing. Derek may or may not have led Stiles to believe he doesn’t like to bottom because he is super nervous, okay? He’s nervous because he watches as Stiles falls apart under him, blissed out and exposed, and he trusts Stiles to take care of him but he’s never given himself over like that to anyone. He’s spent so long making sure he doesn’t appear vulnerable to anyone and while in his darkest moments he always turns to Stiles, he’s still not good at letting himself be vulnerable. 

And of course Stiles finds out, like he always does. Derek isn’t as stealthy as he thinks. It starts out with Stiles being a dork and nuzzling Derek’s ass because “it’s an ass for cuddling, Derek. You don’t understand.” And he nuzzles some more and then he play bites and Derek lets out the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard himself make, dick hardening far too quickly for his own liking. He wants to be happy in the knowledge Stiles doesn’t have werewolf senses to smell how turned on he is just from a little “nuzzling” but Stiles has always had more perception than any werewolf anyway and before he knows it, Derek is being turned on his back and Stiles’ eyes are sweeping over his face and…lower. 

He’s not smug though, like Derek thinks he will be. And that makes something in Derek break because…well, he doesn’t really know. All he knows is Stiles is looking at him like Derek is Han Solo and Leia all wrapped up in one and he couldn’t want for anything more. He’s looking at Derek like he hung the moon and Derek just….he really isn’t aware of himself as he spreads his legs, asking, nervous, trembling slightly. Stiles asks, “are you sure?” and Derek nods, says, “please” and gives Stiles a look he hopes he’ll understand. The one that says I’m scared. The one that says I trust you. The one that says only you. 

And Stiles understands. Of course he does. He always does. And he takes Derek apart. Slowly, surely, making sure to hold Derek when his body starts shaking, kissing him softly and often, praising him and telling Derek it’s okay to be clingy. That he’s here. And Derek wants to say it’s not okay, but then he would be a hypocrite. Because that is exactly what he tells Stiles all the time. That Derek loves how clingy Stiles is. Because Stiles has never been allowed to be clingy. He’s never been given back the love he always gives and Derek wants to spend the rest of his life making Stiles understand he loves him for everything he is, not just parts of him. That he loves his loud mouth and his curiosity and how much he rambles during sex and movies. Things Derek knows Stiles gets anxious about even though he doesn’t let on and Derek wants to murder all the people who ever made Stiles feel unworthy. Like second choice. 

Which is why he knows he has to let Stiles do the same. That he has to try his hardest to listen when Stiles says he’ll never leave him. That Derek is kind and beautiful and nothing was his fault. That when he slides inside him it’s okay to let the tears come because Stiles is right there with him and won’t let him fall. And it’s so fucking beautiful that when Derek comes he doesn’t quite see stars, but he sees something. Peace, maybe. Happiness. Love. All the things he thought he’d never feel again, right there in front of him. Tangible. His. 

(Okay, ambush sexing will never stop making me laugh. NEVER.)

The woods were mostly silent save for the usual ambient sounds of nature. Nothing that would alert him to the presence of his prey. “Uncle Peter?”

Derek glanced around, frowning to himself at the fact that he’d managed to lose the scent trail he was supposed to follow. Go train with your uncle, his mother had said. You’ll have fun, she’d said. She had completely forgotten how slippery Peter could be once he’d made a promise to his nephew if he could catch him.

He moved further into the woods, keeping his footsteps light over the leaves on the ground.

There was a shock of pain as he was suddenly pressed face down into the ground, sharp claws just barely digging into the skin of his neck and an elbow pressing into his back to keep him in place. “You’re not very good at this, are you, Derek?”

Derek huffed in annoyance, struggling only for a moment before going limp at the threat of Peter’s claws. “You’re cheating somehow.”

“Aww, is baby Derek upset that he lost?” Peter asked, shifting in place above him until he was pressing his crotch against Derek’s ass. “I thought you loved bending over for your favorite uncle.”

The huff turned into a sigh and he started to hunch back to present his ass without meaning to. “You promised,” he whined. “You promised if I caught you I’d get to fuck you.”

Peter hummed behind him, moving his hand to start tugging down on Derek’s jeans as he nuzzled at the back of his neck. “And you will when you can beat me. Until then, you’re my pretty little bitch. Aren’t you?” 

Derek wasn’t able to answer that before fingers were pressing into him, filling up his ass only enough to tease him rather than give him what he needed right now. He rocked back onto Peter’s fingers as much as he could manage pinned to the ground.

Okay, y’all don’t even know (or maybe you do because you follow this blog and it’s very easy to keep up with everything that I post) but I have feelings about enthusiastic bottom Derek. Like, the guy is strong and blunt and knows what he wants and what he wants is his big, furry ass played with, goddamnit. Why else would he wear those ridiculous jeans and find reasons to make his asscheeks literally bounce?! 

And Stiles is totally who his heart wants, but he’s still kind of afraid of that because so far following his heart has not lead to some very good things. He wants some D real bad, but is it worth getting all tangled up in another thing that could go remarkably south? Especially with a guy that’s kinda sorta becoming one of his best friends that he’s ever had? 

So let’s go on a journey here and say that Derek actually has the thirst for everyone and he thinks that’s all it is. As long as he just gets himself some regular, good dickings, then he can stave off what he’s feeling for Stiles. It’s a slutty, coward’s move, but he just needs more time to put it off, to try and figure out what he wants and if he did want, if he could actually have. 

At the very least he’s thankful Stiles is totally oblivious to it, because he’s sure whatever chances he might have would be totally obliterated if the guy knew Derek was sitting on every dick in the pack but his. It started with Scott just hanging around after a pack meeting, asking more about born-wolf pack dynamics and how to better bond everyone. Derek was listening and he was actually pretty invested in the conversation, about Scott actually wanting to do this right and maybe get his pack on solid ground for the first time. 

But he was also crazy horny. Stiles had sat next to him during the movie earlier, thigh to thigh, and kept turning his head to whisper quips to Derek, brushing his lips against the side of Derek’s face and ghosting his warm, wet breath inside his ear. It’s made him chubbed in his jeans for the last hour and Scott’s here, and an alpha, which totally gets Derek even hotter. He starts thinking about if Scott’s smaller body has a more compact strength, if his alpha power could hold him down and pound him good, if he’d bite at the back of Derek’s neck. 

Scott starts trailing off as soon as he smells the precum wet Derek’s dick and they just look at each other for a second before Derek strolls across the room, pushes Scott down onto the couch, and growls “take off your pants” as he’s already shucking his and then straddling the younger boy. Their shirts and shoes stay on, jeans tight on their calves as Derek rides him, supporting himself on Scott’s chest as the alpha holds his hips and just makes surprised, spluttering noises, squirming and grinning and whining as Derek milks his beautifully crooked cock, coming only after Scott has creamed him twice. 

Then he’d climbed off, pulled up his jeans, and given Scott a short, sharp nod and a murmured thanks before walking to his bedroom in a bit of a dismissal. They haven’t talked about it since, but it hasn’t seemed to trip up happy-go-lucky Scott for a second, so it was a worthwhile distraction. 

Frotting and fingering with Jackson was not quite as simple. It was more of his unresolved sexual tension and frustrated aggression coming out. He wanted to shove Stiles to his knees and sit on his face, see how perfectly that cute little upturned nose slotted into his furry crack. Instead when Jackson teased him about being out of touch with his emotions and a total dudebro, he shoved the fucker up against a wall and growled at him, baring his teeth. He didn’t count on Jackson whimpering, melting against him, and making the most pathetic humiliation lover’s expression as his cock got hard against Derek’s hip. 

But then it was all over from there. Derek got hard in response, Jackson started rolling his hips, and before he knew it, they both had their fingers rudely fucking into each other while they dry humped in each other’s pre cum, hard cocks rutting and sliding while their balls mashed together. Jackson kept trying to kiss him and Derek kept pulling away and telling him, “Harder, more!” It was clear they’re both hungry bottom bitches and the frustration of trying to get each other off without one shoving their cock in the other was almost more angry than stimulating. Almost. 

The struggle, the clawing, and the battle for orgasm made it that perfect kind of brutal. It was that bruising kind of fuck that you feel sore for days after, but it helped keep Derek focused. Every time Stiles would smirk at him, laughter shining in those amber eyes, Derek would feel the ache in his ass and remember that just hours ago he’d texted Jackson and made him leave a family fundraiser to buy them a double ended dildo to play with. 

They had to stop because Jackson wanted more and Derek was closing his eyes to try and imagine Stiles while they screwed and that was very obviously not a good thing. The kid was still kind of salty about it, but in that way that he was shitty to Stiles, but was still rubbing up against Derek like a damn cat in heat. 

So he moved on to someone he knew wasn’t emotionally ready for a relationship either. Isaac was also getting reacquainted with his body, also learning to be okay with what he wanted and other people wanting things of him. They understood each other in that way– how there was a thin line between good and bad bruises, good and bad ways to say certain words, good and bad ways to be challenged. It was easy being with him because there was no worry and no fronting and they didn’t have to pretend like they weren’t both a little fucked in the head about these things. 

Isaac had a real slender cock, like noticeably so. It took very little prep to get him inside, but the great thing was it made up for it in length. He could drive deep, use that slimness to get in fast and then just keep going and going. Derek fucking loved it. When he needed to be fucked it was never more than five minutes away, could be done with spit for lube if he was hard up enough not to mind the bit of burn, and he’d be sure to have his prostate bashed nice and rough. 

Stopping was easy between them, there wasn’t even a conversation. Just one day they both kind of knew that what they needed from each other had been fulfilled and it was nice. They smiled at each other, bumped shoulders, and exchanged one dry, long, soft kiss. 

And then Derek’s left with Stiles. Stiles who makes him smile even when he really doesn’t want to. Stiles who steals his breath away doing the most mundane shit. Stiles who leaves his scent strung around the loft like it’s no big deal, like Derek being able to smell his hair on the pillows, his sweat in the couch, his affection in the air all the goddamn time isn’t maddening. 

Derek can’t help the way he acts around him, like an excitable puppy, bounding around for attention. Maybe he could help all the unnecessary backflips, but Stiles always looks at him with those huge eyes, wide with awe and envy, he always laughs, and he always lets off deep whaffs of arousal. He makes Derek unconsciously flex around him, makes him forget proper personal space, and worst of all, makes him present. 

All the boys and even the girls try not to let him catch them snickering as he snaps his spine straight back, ears fiercely red as he realizes he had his ass jutted out again. He does that all the time now, wears low rise jeans and no underwear. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, making his asscheeks jiggle and bounce as they reposition, settling with one higher than the other. He lounges against things, leans across long spaces, picks shit up off the floor, and does so many damn squats his thighs have started to really stretch his pants. 

It’s ridiculous and embarrassing and makes him so damn hot for it that he buys a vibrator just to try and stave it off. But then Stiles is at the sex shop. Stiles is oblivious to him for a second as Derek is trying to rush the cashier who can’t quite figure out the register while also being unable to keep his hands away from scratching his balls for more than thirty seconds. 

And then the boy sees him, a gleeful, wicked smile on his face as he comes over. Derek wants to die right then and there. Stiles sees what he’s buying, and that teasing expression smolders into something so heated Derek’s nuts pulse. There’s not even words as the toy is abandoned and he’s dragged to the bathroom, the lock thrown, the glory holes ignored as Stiles shoves him up onto a sink, spreads his legs, and yanks down his jeans. 

Derek just moans and nods and reaches down to part his cheeks for him, flash his hole and even make it unfurl for Stiles. His stomach is quivering and they haven’t even started and Stiles is getting on his knees to eat him out and he didn’t even ask for it, didn’t push on his head or straddle his face. Derek’s trying his best to simultaneously grasp onto the mirrored medicine cabinet with condoms, lube, and wipes inside without tearing it off the goddamn wall because Stiles is making the lewdest goddamn noises as he fucking makes out with Derek’s asshole. He sucking and licking and nibbling and just straight up kissing the dusky, wrinkled skin, burrowing his face so deep his nose is smashing right behind Derek’s balls and his face is getting swallowed by the ample meat of his cheeks. 

Derek is fucking seeing God with the way that boy’s tongue moves– all finesse even as his hunger is sloppy-wrecked– moaning and writhing just as much as Derek like he can’t fucking get enough. It’s fucking amazing, but Derek also wants dick and he wants it now, so he does tug on Stiles’ hair, makes him stand up, and with too many pauses to gulp in breath says, “Get… inside me… now.” 

And Stiles stutters for a moment, hesitates for the first time, and Derek can’t fathom why. Every dude ever will stick their dick anywhere you let them. He already did the part that usually takes some bartering. He was just suffocating in Derek’s ass, why is he waiting to flip it out and get balls deep? 

But then he just goes for it, drops his pants and fluorescent briefs, and he’s hard as nails, a legitimately pretty pink. He’s the picture perfect dichotomy that you only get in dicks where he looks hard enough to snap, but so incredibly soft. His balls are full and peachy, his bush thick and dark. And he’s about three inches, three and a half maybe. 

Derek would never call himself a size queen, but he does want to be fucked kind of like an animal and so he doesn’t really know how to react. But then Stiles is stepping back into him, rubbing that stub between his cheeks, teasing his hole and letting Derek feel the pre running down his short shaft. He’s pressing their bodies together, nipping at Derek’s lips, licking into his mouth. He’s groping Derek’s pecs, petting his flanks, and massaging his balls while Derek is holding himself open, begging for it. 

Then they’re fucking and holy goddamn shit does Stiles know what he’s doing. The kid doesn’t just jackrabbit inside of him, using Derek like a living fleshlight. He’s got moves. The rhythms his hips make are fucking transfixing. Derek doesn’t miss a goddamn inch. Derek comes so hard he gives himself a facial. 

Ah! Thanks so much! I always worry that they’re just tedious tide-overs for most people until I publish another full fic, but it does my heart good to see more requests for them. Plus it makes me feel like I’m actually putting out content semi regularly instead of just once every other month. :P But anyway! 

1. I’d love it if Derek immediately knew what it was, because I still don’t think we got enough of him in the show being the guy that actually knew what was going on since he grew up in this world. We got occasional glimpses, but it could have been so much more. Anyway, he takes the hunter down, but it doesn’t feel like any kind of victory because he knows this kind of weaponized strain. It’s old school– considered inhumane by the more modern hunting groups like the Argents that only step in when humans are endangered– and was used as a terror incitier. There’s all different variants, but the blanket effect is that they accentuate aggressors and suppress inhibitions. They were used to make shape shifters look more primal and less in control. Whether through violence or sex or animalistic behaviors, it was used often times to justify poaching and cullings of his kind. 

2. Of course he tries to keep it secret from everyone and find a solution to the problem all on his own. He’s that way about pretty much everything anyway, but when it comes down to him no longer being able to control his sexual urges, that takes it to a whole other level. So he spends days in his loft, naked and sweating and painfully frustrated as he tries everything he can think of– magic to mundane. He makes poultices and breathes incense, tries anal beads and fucks flesh lights, even contemplates posting a private ad and just letting some strangers walk into his unlocked apartment to let him drain his balls dry and get rid of this. 

3. Jackson is actually the one that shows up first, wandering in with that same, quivering little-boy-trying-to-be-brave voice that he always has when he’s alone with Derek. It almost makes the alpha feel bad for how he handled things with his first beta, almost. Because Jackson is still a smug, self important little ass and Derek would find him irritating if it wasn’t somehow kind of endearing. The kid is up his ass twenty four seven, always trying to figure out better angles to get what he wants from his alpha and sire. In this case, it’s actually a blessing that he won’t take no for an answer, because he comes in even when Derek shouts for him to go away and they’re staring at each other from across the room– Derek completely naked, sweating, and hard enough to drill for diamonds, and Jackson, wide eyed and breathing heavy and tenting his designer jeans as he takes it all in. 

4. Derek can’t even fight it anymore. The pollen has been in his system too long, he’s too tired from staving it off, and Jackson is smirking at him as he sheds his leather jacket and licks his lips. So Derek just bares his teeth in reply, peels back his foreskin, and spreads his legs enough so Jackson can sit. For all the blustery the teen usually has, the second he’s given an opportunity to be someone’s bottom bitch, he takes it without hesitation. Derek’s surprised to see he has ginger pubes as he gets naked and the kid must have plenty practice with himself because Derek’s bottoming out in minutes. It helps that the pollen is making him precum fucking rivers it wants him to mate so badly, but still. Slick doesn’t make an unworked hole this magically greedy, it just doesn’t. Luckily, there doesn’t seem to be any need for pretense though, because Jackson is riding his dick and moaning for it like he’s in a porno and Derek can’t help but feel his entire system set aflame with the thrill that mounting his beta gives him. Simultaneously marking. claiming, dominating, and caring for his closest pack member makes his balls practically churn with arousal and he starts meeting Jackson’s hard slams down with eager fucks of his hips. 

5. Only thing is, after twenty minutes he hasn’t come, not even once, and while Derek’s definitely an advocate of marathon sex, it’s only fun because as a werewolf his exhaustion meter is almost non existent and no matter how many loads he blows, there’ll always be another in ten minutes. But Jackson’s already spilled all over his alpha’s dark, thick treasure trail twice and it’s just making Derek froth that he hasn’t started to cream that freckled ass he’s wrecking. He doesn’t want to admit to himself why that is– what else he needs– but luckily he doesn’t have to, because he’s apparently a thousand times more transparent than he wanted to be and he doesn’t quite know whether he likes how well his pack knows him or whether it scares him, but either way Jackson is somehow fondly sneering at him from atop his cock and says he knows just what this situation needs. 

Neither of them were prepared for Scott’s shaky voice when he grabbed his own dick and begged Derek to continue or how pretty Derek’s moans would sound when he sucks himself off. Also, they were not expecting frantic sex they had shortly after that, Derek writhing on the bed while Scott fingers him, promising he will suck him off later but will Scott, please, just please, get inside him.

no | rather not | I dunno | I guess | sure | yes | FUCK yes | oh god you don’t even know

I’m right there with you. I’ve been thinking about Hoechlin’s thighs for way too long to be healthy but listEN, DEREK RIDING STILES IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS, I LOVE IT SO MUCH, YOU HAVE NO IDEA

Imagine Derek straddling Stiles while they’re making out, clothes scattered around the room. Derek is grinding back against Stiles’ already hard cock and Stiles is moaning into his mouth, reaching around to touch Derek’s ass and between the cheeks

Imagine Derek holding Stiles down on the bed while he lifts himself up, lines Stiles’ dick up and slowly sinks down onto him, taking him all in, and Stiles is just gaping at him, taking in the beauty of Derek Hale sinking down onto him, rock hard and lips parted in a shaky moan

Imagine Stiles first just laying there, stunned because Derek is riding him. But then his hands start to wander. First they touch Derek’s tense abs, then they stroke his cock maybe a few times, but eventually they find their way to Derek’s thighs and they just stay there. Imagine Derek really liking to be touched there, so he throws his head back in a deep and throaty moan while Stiles’ hands run up and down his thighs and telling him how beautiful he looks like this

BUT THEN imagine Stiles always touching Derek’s thighs when he’s rimming him. Just slowly, teasingly, running his hands up and down them while his tongue is making Derek a moaning mess

Imagine Stiles leaving kisses along both Derek’s thighs for a long time, before finally taking his cock in his mouth and blowing him, hands switching between touching his balls and his thighs

Imagine Stiles only having to touch along Derek’s thigh for Derek to get aroused, because Derek loves to be touched there, loves the feeling of Stiles’ long fingers running along his strong thighs, the fingers that know exactly how to make him feel good with just a few touches

Just imagine him bouncing on Stiles’ dick, thighs juddering from how hard he slams himself down. Or imagine Stiles ramming into Derek from behind, their thighs clashing together beautifully. Or imagine Stiles pooning up behind Derek to fuck between those clenched thighs. 

BUT ALSO

Imagine Derek alone, winding himself up by stroking or scratching his thighs, not touching his cock until it’s deep read and leaking from the thigh love. Imagine him pinching the skin gently until it reddens, letting go just long enough for it to pale, and then starting all over again. Imagine someone (reader’s choice) spanking those thighs until they’re blushing, or sucking brief marks into the inside of them, the soft skin purpling so very easily. 

OR

Imagine him in those tight jeans, going out on the town, and yeah, he knows his ass is amazing, he’s told about it enough. But Stiles knows him, and knows that to really race his engine, what he needs is just a butterfly touch to his thigh, maybe followed by a slow grope and an even slower journey up his inseam. 

Yeah, worship Derek’s thighs 2K16 needs to be a thing.

Right bro? @crossroadswrite 

Also, Emma needs to see this too @pale-silver-comb, and maybe all the bottom!Derek peeps? I NEED THIS TO SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE!

So, in addition to writing it for Mating Games last year (here), I had to write a little with some bottom!Derek for you. ^_^

——–

Derek’s shoulders tense and release as he presses his ass back, eager to feel everything just a little bit more. He’s blissed out, his cock dripping with precome just to spite the tightness of the cock ring holding him back from a final release, but it doesn’t change the way that Kira’s fingers have brought him beyond the edge over and over again already that night, her knuckles bruising his ass as she slams into him with a pace he can’t keep track of. Electricity has always been something used to keep him restrained, but the crackle of it from Kira’s fingertips as she prods his prostate is like freedom. It’s life flowing through his veins and then catching in his spine and cresting waves of pleasure throughout his entire being that lingers in the form of little shakes and gasps of aftershocks.