there’s baby Hoechlin

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and teen Hoechlin

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and Derek Hoechlin

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and precious Hoechlin

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I can’t stop loving him, damn you fuckface!

jadelinneharley:

fishfornoreason:

dougies-headband:

marco-the-cutie:

allmysecretdaydreams:

How is this not the best thing? No period AND you get to be a guy for a week

I GET TO HAVE A DICK FOR A WEEK??? SIGN ME UP

i wonder how i look genderbend,short and hot,or average height and hot?

my future husband will just have to deal with being gay for one week a month

DAMN DEAL.
I can already imagine it

i’ve been waiting for the dark to come
my temptation & salvation

viviena:

- Don’t “Rrrrrr” me, i’m holding a weapon and i’m not afraid to use it!

Holland Roden attends Day 1 of the LACOSTE Beautiful Desert Pool Party on April 12, 2014.

dyleon:

Just read Sense of Home” by Sinyhale and I’m totally done with my life. THIS IS SO AMAZING!! Had to write a song for it.

arm porn (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚

Legendary Wolf.

prettiestalpha:

The Mini Were’s and their owners <3

prettiestalpha:

how to be dark and adorable by Mini!Derek

cynictis:

Second picture for Wolf charity campaign. This one for everythingshiny, who too wanted something cuddly (and other prompts are so domestic… I’ll die from amount of sterek fluff). The bidder chose a forest version at the end, but I like some laconism myself.

halfhardtorock:

I really, really want fic about Stiles being a little cocktease to Derek. 

Like the night before he goes to college he clumsily propositions him and Derek’s face goes forbidding and he holds him away firmly and shakes his head. And Stiles whines. Because why not?

And Derek is all frank about how Stiles is way too young and it’s irresponsible and he won’t take advantage and he’s going away and werewolves don’t fuck around casually. Werewolf dudes need committed, adult relationships.

So Stiles is like, “Whatever bro,” and rolls his eyes. And instead of doing his best to CONVINCE Derek of how grown up and responsible he is, he just TEASES HIM.

Like, calls him from parties to groan in his ear about how he almost got off between this dude and his girlfriend, how they danced with him until Stiles nearly creamed his pants.

And then he has this super-casual, make-out for fun relationship with his roommate and snaps selfies of the dude sucking marks into his neck, making sure his eyes are all blissed and lidded. 

And then he films himself sitting in bed, hair askew, blanket over his lap but obviously naked and moving, moving. And it’s clear when he starts crooning and biting his lip, head fallen back, that he’s nailing himself open with something. Using something inside his ass. And after a while he rolls his head forward again and glares, hot and frustrated at the camera before he suddenly jolts and whimpers, drops his head back again and groans about how he needs “more.”

He thinks it’s going to take a few months to get what he wants at least but he’s in week 3 of Project: Cocktease Derek Until He Cries, walking home from class when he gets his hoodie grabbed from the back, the hood twisted up. And he shouts as he’s jerked backwards, pulled along, feet tripping and when he finally sees his attacker, he gasps because it’s Derek, fucking Derek, who looks royally pissed, mouth set in a sharp, scowling line, eyes glaring ahead as he walks.

They end up at Derek’s car and he shoves Stiles into it and bites him. Bites his shoulder through his sweatshirt, teeth actually pricking because he’s half-wolfed out. And Stiles arches into the pain, teeth in his own lip, taking his punishment so good.

After a long, shaking moment, Derek would pull off with a noisy exhale and be like “Where can I fuck you? I need to fucking wreck you, Stiles.”

And Stiles would whine in his throat, he wants that, and nod, nod emphatically and slur out “B-back at my place. My roommate is gone for—”

And Derek’s eyes would flash and he’d growl “Stop. Talking.”

And in Stiles’ dorm room, Derek would snarl in his throat and actually stop to bury his face in Stiles’ laundry basket, scenting and roughing his cheek against everything, frustrated by how much it smells like STILES AND OTHER GUY in there.

Stiles would get up to try to calm him and he’d end up face first against his own desk, bent over it, ass in the air. 

"You little shit," Derek would snarl and strip him, roughly ripping his fly apart and tearing down his cords, his underwear, while Stiles panted into his arm, trembling.

He’d jolt when Derek slapped a fucking bottle of lube down on the table and a condom.

He’d get no real foreplay, just Derek’s lube-wet fingers impatiently opening him, stretching his virgin asshole sharply and crudely, like he doesn’t care if it feels good to Stiles or not.

And when Stiles squirms at the forcefulness of it, Derek puts a hand to his head and pins it in place while Stiles gasps.

He’d see Derek’s clawed hand scrabbling at the condom and he’d whine “Nooooooo, no condom—” and Derek would make this angry, broken sound, hissing “Do you just give it up like that to everyone? All hot and bare?”

Before he can answer, there’s Derek’s raw, thick cock cleaving him apart and Stiles’ eyes cross at the shock, at the suddenness of it. All this sharp, intense stretch that he’s never gotten close to mimicking with a toy and he just stares sightlessly at the wall with his mouth jarred open into a soft o, taking it.

Derek gives him two slow, trembling thrusts and then he’s being fucked, ass spanked by Derek’s narrow, restless hips, drilled. Derek presses at his lower back with his free hand, holds him still so he can rut the kid into a sobby, begging mess.

When it gets so hot between them, when Derek’s hand starts to skid on Stiles’ sweaty back, Stiles groans “F-fuck, oh fuck yes, it’s so much better, so much—” 

And Derek loses it, grabs Stiles by his hips and LIFTS him off the floor and jerks him back onto his frantic cock like a ragdoll, snarling “Don’t fucking talk about him. Anyone else. I don’t want to hear it.”

And Stiles’ hands would scramble on the desk to hold himself up and he’d whine “There is no one else, Derek! No one’s touched me there. J-just me—”

The truth is too much, would make Derek throw his head back, face crumpled in pain. He’d whine “Stiles! Fuck, Stiles—” while he mated him, his knot swelling up tight and knitting the kid to him compulsively.

They’d end up on the bed and Stiles would groan at all the places he aches while Derek trembled at the adrenaline drop and nuzzled at him, whimpering in his throat. He’d kiss Stiles everywhere he can reach, upset about Stiles’ pain.

But his knot makes his pleasure so potent, he’d keep dropping his head and shivering as he orgasms again.

And Stiles would swat at him, exhausted, and be like “Jesus. Next time just fucking ask if I’m fooling around before you decide to tie my virgin ass up for hours.”

Derek would grumble to himself and then he’d carefully nudge Stiles’ head back so he can lick the sweat off his mottled throat.