I got an idea. Then I did a thing.
I think I set this both before they all turn 18, and before Cora, but before Jackson leaves. Not really sure, and not sure its relevant, tbh.
Disclaimer: Why don't I own teen wolf?
Enjoy.
Hard core pwp, darlings. Not sorry.
G x
Contrary to popular belief, Stiles doesn't dress this way because she likes to, even though she adores her geeky t shirts and sweatpants.
No, she dresses this way so people underestimate her. She wants them to, so that on occasion she can shock the hell out of them, just for fun.
The only person who picks her up on it is her dad, who chastises her for fooling her friends.
"It's not my fault they aren't observant enough to recognise that they shouldn't assume that I'm just the girl with adhd." She replies, and wipes off the make up she had put on for her aunt's visit.
Her dad tends to leave it alone when she says stuff like that.
Back to the fooling.
Lydia, Erica and Allison think it's fun to press gang her into going clubbing. With the rest of the pack.
Tonight.
Apparently they figured if they gave her little enough warning, she couldn't back out. So she (fake)sighs reluctantly, puts on her big girl panties, and lets Lydia 'bully' her into going.
But, she puts her foot down when the girls want to do her make up and hair.
"If I'm going clubbing with you guys, I'm at least going to wear something I am comfy in." She tells them.
Cue three hours of them trying to convince her to let them give her a make over, and "Come on, Stiles, it'll be fun!"
She doesn't give in, and when they eventually do, they command her to dress sexily.
"I'm serious, Stiles!" Erica says. "Sexy. I want those boys to have to pick their jaws up off the floor."
If it all goes the way she intends, she wants everyone picking their jaws up. All night. She has more than one trick up her sleeve.
Not that there will be sleeves.
So she turns her attention back to her essay, and scribbles out some discombobulated sentences that she knows will get her an A.
When she has three hours before she has to leave, she strips, jumps in the shower, and scrubs herself with her new shower gel. She purposefully picked one that she knew would be like catnip for the wolves.
Rinsing off, she doesn't bother with a towel, but saunters to dry her hair into loose waves completely naked, so the scent dries into her skin. Once her hair is set in the shape she wants, she swipes the bag with her new underwear in from the floor by her bed, and snaps the tags off cheerily, then slides the panties up her legs.
She turns to regard herself in the mirror, smirking at the way the colour looks against her pale skin.
Cocking a hip, she snaps the bra into place too, and hums a few bars of walking on sunshine.
"Walking on sunshine, wo-ooh-oah..." She sings softly.
She doesn't put deodorant on, knowing that the shower gel will keep her smelling good. Then she goes to town with her make up.
Thick black liner, long lashes, red lipstick, faint blusher. She puckers her lips at her reflection and chuckles.
"They aren't going to know what hit them." She tells mirror Stiles. Then she slips her dress over her head, careful to not muss her hair or make up. She can't reach the zip, and so she pulls her hair over one shoulder and out of the way, noting that she should get it cut soon. It's almost down to her ass, even wavy.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?" Her dad calls back from the office.
"Can you come and zip me up?" Her father replies with a yes and a few seconds later, she is safely zipped up, and her dad is looking at her with a mix of shock and awe.
"What? I dress up when we have family round." She says, internally gloating.
"Yeah, but. This. Not how you dress when your aunt is here."
"Only because she's super religious." She mutters, grabbing two pairs of very high heels, and holding them up.
"Which pair?"
The sheriff points at the pair she holds in her left hand, and she slides them on, grinning at the height boost, and the colour, giggling at how appropriate it is. Red is fast becoming her favourite colour.
"Ready. Do you know where my coat is?" She throws a few things into her purse, and discretely drops a knife in, out of her dad's line of sight. Just in case.
"Last I saw, the closet in the office, out of the way. Want me to get it for you?"
"Please." Her dad disappears and returns with a garment bag. Unzipping it, he hands her the contents, and she shrugs it on.
"Want me to drive you?"
"Is that all right? I know you have work tonight."
"Yeah, let me just grab my keys, sweetheart. I'll drop you off on my way to the station."
Stiles clatters her way downstairs, and grabs her door keys, waiting for the Sheriff to come down.
When he does, he drives her to the club Lydia had picked, and pulls up around the corner from it.
"Stay safe, baby. Have fun. Knock 'em dead." She grins widely, and gets out of the car.
"Have a good shift." She walks around the corner, and spying Danny, she sneaks up and taps him on the shoulder.
"Oh, hey Stiles." His eyes are wide as he stares, and she cocks a hip again, raising an eyebrow.
"Hey Danny. Ethan here?" The handsome boy shakes his head.
"Something came up, he couldn't make it."
"Shame." Danny makes a face, still staring.
"The others here yet?"
"Lyds texted me earlier to say all the others are coming together, so they'll be along in a bit."
"Cool. Did you get the third essay question in class yesterday?"
With that, they chat until they are at the front of the line.
"Hey, Arne!" Stiles embraces the huge bouncer, teetering on tiptoes even in her heels.
"Hey Stiles!" The muscular man picks her up and gives her a squeeze, and the pair of them talk for a minute.
"Is it just the pair of you tonight?" Stiles smiles at him.
"No, I have some friends coming later. Scowly, probably wearing leather?"
"I'll let them in."
"You're the best, Arne." Stiles leaves a kiss print on the large man's cheek, and takes Danny by the hand, tugging him to the bar.
"Hey, Elle, two jack and cokes?" The heavily tattooed woman shoots her a grin, and mixes the drinks quickly, setting them down.
"On the house, sugar." Stiles blows her a kiss. Danny looks at Stiles incredulously.
"How are you doing this? Where's my bumbling, hyper Stiles?" She raises one eyebrow at him once more, and he shrugs helplessly.
"I haven't even taken my coat off yet. You haven't seen anything, Danny boy." She sips her drink calmly. Danny sighs in confusion, and picks up his drink, despite the fact that neither of them are old enough to drink legally.
At some point Danny realises that Stiles is doing the equivalent of filling a dance card, and telling her various suitors that she'll dance with them later.
She has no intention of doing so, but they don't know that.
"Jesus, how often do you come here, Stiles?" He asks. He is starting to get extremely curious about what is under her coat, as well.
"Often enough, babe." A guy leers at Stiles and she shoots him a Lydia like, disdainful glare.
"Bye, random weirdo." She scoffs, and drags Danny to another part of the bar. The guy lumbers after them, and Stiles sighs, sets her drink down carefully, and gives her purse to Danny.
"Okay, guy, I don't want to do this, but if you carry on giving me a reason, I will." She sounds far more menacing than she ever has before, and Danny manages to absently think that if he wasn't gay, Stiles would be his type.
"You're cute, little girl." The drunk man slurs, and paws at the hem of her coat. Danny bristles, ready to step in, but Stiles beats him to it, take a swift step forward and grabbing a handful of denim and flesh, squeezing the man's crotch so hard tears stream from his eyes.
Then she twists. Danny flinches reflexively as the guy howls in pain, and Arne barrels through the crowd, hoisting the guy into the air by his collar and depositing him out the door.
"Go home when you can breathe, scum." He spits, and turns to wink at Stiles. She gives a nonchalant wave, and sips her drink.
"Who the hell are you and what did you do with my best friend?" Scott says, having arrived with the rest of the pack in time to witness the spectacle. Stiles heaves a sigh, and toys with the belt of her coat.
"Hey, Scott. Hey guys." Finishing her drink, she unbuckles her coat, and unbuttons it, letting it fall from her shoulders, and passes it to the bar girl, who tucks it away for her.
Complete silence from the pack.
She smirks, and beckons Elle over again. She bends over the bar in a way that she knows assure that their eyes are glued to her ass, clad in scarlet fabric reaching mid thigh, her hair not far behind that.
"Is Eric in?" Elle's eyes twinkle, and she points her over to the other side of the dance floor. "Look after my purse for me?" Elle puts it with the coat, and goes to the customer a little way down the bar.
Stiles stalks up to the pack, and smirks coyly.
"You'll catch flies." She says softly, and taps Isaac's jaw with a painted nail to close it. She smugly watches the wolves sniff at her scent, knowing the anise is driving them mad. Then she struts over to the shirtless, sweaty man grinding up against a blonde man on the other side of the room.
"Eric, you busy?" She taps the huge guy on the shoulder. "Alex, would you mind lending that piece of hot stuff to me?" The blonde man shrieks when he sees her, and wriggles out of the guy's arms, shimmying over to her and giving her a huge kiss on the cheek.
"Girl, how the hell are you?" He yells over the bass.
"Dance with me." She leads him over to a space.
"That bad?"
"No, I'm just waiting for my friends to find their jaws." She gestures down at the lacy red halter neck dress practically glued to her slender form, and shrugs. Giggling, she settles into her usual position, chest and hips pressed to Eric's, while his arms snake around her hips.
They sinuously roll against each other, and Stiles raises her arms, and sways side to side, trusting Eric to catch her if she topples. She is so involved in the heavily beat of the music that she barely notices when a body presses against her back and fingers clasp her hips.
"You look gorgeous, Stiles." Isaac whispers in her ear. The three of them move against each other for a while, and Stiles fists one hand in Isaac's hair when Eric leaves, leaving one arm behind her head and one looping their fingers together where they rest on the cut out of her dress, on her bare skin.
"How did I know you would be the first one to get over how I look?" She purrs. Isaac swallows, and she can feel the motion of his adam's apple against her shoulder, where the heels have boosted her height.
"I haven't gotten over it. I'm just taking advantage." He whispers.
Eventually, she gets thirsty, and they go back to the bar, where Elle gives them water, and quirks an eyebrow at Isaac's hair, messy from where Stiles' hands have been buried in it. They return to the pack, where Lydia and Erica are animatedly discussing her dress, and Allison is obviously trying to move the topic to her hair.
"Who wants to dance?" Stiles says throatily. Isaac is grinning beside her as Erica and Jackson both take her hands, and pull her with them to the floor. She lets Jackson settle in behind her, and waits for Erica, lazily brushing her ass against the boy behind her.
"Catwoman?" She sighs. Erica is puzzling over where to slot herself in, so Stiles takes one of Jackson's hands and links it with Erica's, then pulls Erica chest to chest with herself. She cheekily slips a knee between Erica's and grasps her waist, already twirling her hips in time with Jackson's. Erica quickly picks up the rhythm, brushing her finger tips over Jackson's collarbones, and Stiles' shoulders. They sway and dip against each other for as long as they can, until they need water, and reluctantly drag themselves back for a drink.
This time, Stiles takes Danny and Allison to dance, pressing herself against the other girl's back, and yanking Danny in behind her. She revelled in the feeling of two bodies against her, until both of them go back for water. She dances alone for a while, rotating her hips, until Lydia appears, dragging Derek with her, Boyd and Erica following. They begin to dance near them, and Lydia pushes Derek at Stiles and goes to find Jackson.
Stiles trails hot fingertips up Derek's now bare arm, over the fabric of his t shirt, and up his neck. He shudders, shamelessly crowding in against her, until she loops her arms over his shoulders, and dips her hips down, forcing him to follow her. They grind, and sway, and move languidly with each other, until Stiles is quite sure she will be dancing with him for the rest of the night.
He is an excellent dancer. There has always been tension between them, and this is turning into a fabulous way to use it.
She is flushed, and damp with sweat, but so is Derek, and they are glorious in their movements.
The rest of the pack leave, claiming they are tired, and Derek and Stiles dance until the club closes.
They leave, collecting their coats from Elle.
She finds herself pushed up against his car, his mouth hot against her lips, their tongues tangling in a frenzied dance of their own, his hands gripping her thighs hard enough to hurt, but she doesn't care. She gives as good as she gets, and she moans in pleasure at the feel of his large, hot, heavy body pushing her into the cool metal, the contrast sending little shivers down her spine.
"Come back to mine." He mumbles into her neck.
"Okay." She gasps, and he scrapes his teeth over her skin.
He yanks himself away and clambers into the car with none of his usually grace. She scrambles in, and he breaks about seventy traffic laws to get them to his apartment. He leaps out, not bothering to let her walk, but her just scoops her up and carries her in, as she gasps playfully, and bites the shoulder she is draped over. He groans low in his throat.
"Biting kink." She hisses, gleeful. "Me too." She bites him again, harder this time. He growls and she feels the deep rumble between her legs, and she finds herself wondering if her could make her come like that.
That can be round two.
He throws her onto the bed, so she kicks off her heels, and pulls her dress over her head, dropping it to the floor.
He looks a little stunned.
"I've been waiting so long for you to do that." He snarls, and rakes his eyes over her blood red panties and bra.
"Take those off." She does, tosses her hair over her shoulder. Fully clothed, he stalks over, and brushes against her. The feel of the rough denim against her skin makes her fist her hands in his t shirt, and push it up. He takes it off, and throws it.
She doesn't see where it lands, and she doesn't care.
He unbuttons his jeans, and having already toed his shoes off, he steps out of them, and takes his socks off.
"Commando, eh?" She breathes. "Sexy."
"Stiles. Shut up, I'm looking." She lets him, his gaze on her body turning her on more than she had realised was possible. The wetness pools between her legs, and his nostrils widen.
"You can smell that?" He nods, eyes glazed over. "You smell what you're doing to me?" He makes fists.
"Stiles." He grits out. His eyes flicker red and back again.
"Fuck me, Derek." She whisper. He is before her faster than she can blink, picking her up, and sliding her onto his erect cock slowly, the weight of her pushing him deeper. They both moan in the back of their throats, and Derek captures her in a passionate kiss, tongue flicking the roof of her mouth in a way that ought to be illegal.
When she is fully seated, he takes all of her body weight, and thrusts up into her, already hitting her wall with every stroke. He fucks her hard, and fast, and her orgasm rushes over her like a freight train. To her surprise, he doesn't stop, just fucks her though it and carries on, leaning her against the wall, and pinning her there. She is unable to do much more than hold on and moan, but she does manage to rake her nails down his back, making his rhythm stutter. He growls, and she feels it through her entire body again, answering her earlier thought regarding whether he could make her come just by growling. Two orgasms, and he hasn't even come yet? She holds tighter as he speeds up, obviously chasing his own orgasm now, but seemingly determined to make her come again.
They come together, yelling out their pleasure, and panting into each others' necks.
Derek deposits her on the bed, and settles in beside her, curling around her like a puppy.
"Who knew. You like to cuddle." She mumbles, still too blissed out to care much about anything. Dropping a kiss on her lips, he pulls her closer and they begin to drift off.
She knows they will need to talk at some point, but for now she's pretty happy to snuggle, sleep, and have some awesome morning sex.
She likes it when people underestimate her.