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Exclusively Sterek

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Is he having eye sex with the reporter or what the fuck is going on here?!

Stiles Stilinski was the most ridiculously named movie star Derek had ever interviewed, and that cartoonish name, along with Stilinski’s string of B-grade teen romance movies, led Derek to expect inane answers to his in-depth questions about acting.

Derek’s editor—who also happened to be his domineering elder sister, Laura—had insisted that Derek ask questions that weren’t as pretentious as his usual fare, that he focus on Stilinski’s notorious sense of humor and his playful, spontaneous approach to an otherwise soulless film industry.

What bloody use would that be? Derek hadn’t become an entertainment reporter to spout the same brainless garbage as everyone else. He respected the art of acting, and he covered national and international theater, independent films and foreign-language masterpieces. He hadn’t won his awards for covering the sorts of throwaway movies Stiles Stilinski acted in, and he had no patience with good-looking golden boys who couldn’t act their way out of a paper bag.

Granted, Stilinski’s acting was… bearable, but his roles were so vacuous as to induce migraines in discerning viewers, and Derek couldn’t fathom why Laura was so fixated on Derek “chilling out” and “learning to have fun on the job.” Derek had plenty of fun, thank you very much. He had more fun reporting on Tom Hiddleston’s latest reinvention of Shakespeare than he did being dragged around the set of a Halloween-themed crowd-pleaser whose script—or lack thereof—was peppered with boorish, off-color, slapstick comedy.

Which was the movie Stilinski was currently acting in, playing the part of the hormone-driven teenage hero.

Continued on AO3.

(Source: hoechloin)

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(via felicitysmock)

(Source: hoechloin, via lonewolfed)

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Anonymous asked: amy rose please write the muffled against a wall library!sex! your tags put this pit in my stomach and i need it like air! more beautiful words, all the ust. when you have time, or at all of course :)


The night before classes start, Erica drags Derek to a house party and he finds himself making out with an extremely attractive guy called Stiles. Stiles of all the names in all the world. It could be a damn fugitive’s name, odd and vague and fitting for the man that leans against the kitchen counter as he talks to Derek, feet turned towards him and pink lips turned up in a smile as they wrap around a beer bottle. Stiles has big, earnest eyes and talks with his hands. He teases Derek about his awkward flirting, and his slightly too short haircut. Derek mocks Stiles’ own messy hair, even as he’s itching to run his fingers through it, and he could tell by the way Stiles’ gaze had dropped constantly to his mouth that he was thinking similar things to Derek. 

Dirty things. 

Things Derek shouldn’t be thinking about when he has class in nine hours. 

Derek’s out of his element as they stumble back to Stiles’ shared house, he’s never really had one night stands, taken his studies seriously, put books first, earned his place at college through hard work and a dusty social life. He’s remarkably okay with pretending to be someone who does this regularly if it means he gets one night of it with Stiles. Stiles rims him on the stairs and they fuck on Stiles’ too small bed. It’s wild and intense and Derek forgets his inhibitions, is loud and laughs when Stiles can’t get his shoes off, clutches the headboard as he rides Stiles, relishes the scrape and the burn and the fast, heady pleasure of it all. 

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