Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12939897.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sheriff_Stilinski/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Sheriff_Stilinski, Stiles_Stilinski, Claudia_Stilinski, OFC
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Older_Man/Younger_Woman, Age_Difference, Dubious_Consent,
      Emotional_Manipulation, Slut_Shaming, Vaginal_Sex, Object_Insertion, Anal
      Sex, Sheriff_Stilinski's_Name_is_John, Sheriff_Stilinski_is_Not_Stiles
      Stilinski's_Parent, Dark_Sheriff_Stilinski, Dirty_Talk, Light_Bondage,
      Orgasm_Delay, Female_Stiles_Stilinski
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-07 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 9542
****** Entangled ******
by ChainsAroundWings_(AlzeahXei)
Summary
     Once you're trapped in the spider's web, it's nigh impossible to
     escape.
     Some are able to, but are you one of them?
Notes
     Before scrolling down, please PLEASE read the tags first. There are
     triggering words and situations that you may not want to read about.
     Please inform me if I didn't put the appropriate tag or miss one.
     This is purely fiction. I DO NOT CONDONE these behaviors in real
     life. If you're to post wrathful comments below, I'll just reply
     'told you so :D' (Yes, with the smiley.)
     And of course, this is not beta. All mistakes belong to me.
***** Chapter 1 *****
“Oh thank God you’re here!” Stiles barely manages to land her foot over the
threshold when Mrs. Stilinski barrels into her direction, little Mietek a
magical mass in her arms as if he popped out of air. With the sudden added
seventeen pounds of weight Stiles has to rediscover her sense of equilibrium in
between juggling her overnight bag swinging precariously on the edge of her
shoulder and the avoiding crushing the toddler’s limbs. “I’m sorry for this
last minute rush!” Mrs. Stilinski already has her coat on and is checking over
the pockets and handbag in case she misses something. “There is a
misunderstanding in the schedule and now I’m 15 minutes late! Not your fault,
of course. I just hate to be behind time and not giving Mietek my best, and
you–”
“Claudia!” It’s actually pretty funny to watch the whirlwind of a woman halts
with a startled look on her face, if only they have the time to appreciate the
humor. “It’s not my first rodeo taking care of Mietek for a night.” Stiles
kindly reminds her. In her arms Mietek watches the drama around him while idly
sucking on his fist. “And besides, we won’t be alone for long. I’ll be fine,
your son will be fine, and you’ll be very late if you’re not on the road now.”
The last sentence jolts Claudia back into motion as she goes through her
pockets and handbag for the last time. “Okay. Okay, I’m leaving now. Mommy
loves you,” She smacks a kiss on her son’s crown. “And you too,” The peck on
Stiles’ cheek is less of a kiss and more of a slap that nearly throws her off
her feet. “Two days is just a blink of an eye. I hope.” And then the engine of
her blue jeep starts and she’s out of sight in no time.
“Wow. You mom sure knows how to make an exit,” Stiles says to the toddler, who
agrees by slapping his spit-drenched hand on her nose.
 
#
 
It’s true when Stiles said they won’t be alone, since Mr. Stilinski is bound
for home for dinner. Unless something else of importance holds him back at the
station. Well, there is a reason Stiles is their speed-dial-nanny-in-case-of-
emergency.
Ask any parents, and they’ll tell you that a child consumes not only your
sanity, but everything else around you – an adorable, but equally disruptive,
black hole. When both husband and wife have time-demanding jobs – one’s a
sheriff, the other’s a nurse – adding a child into the family equation is
definitely a step away from madness. Or at least that was one of the reasons
why Stiles got the job as their babysitter after Mrs. Stilinski grumbled
groggily to Stiles’ mother at the diner where she works. Finding someone to
take care of your enormously dependent child when both parents’ shift
unexpectedly collided is a kind of hell.
It’s nearly Mietek bedtime when the front door opens to reveal Sheriff
Stilinski in his uniform. “Welcome home,” Stiles greets while patting a fussy
toddler in the verge of sleep. She can never understand why babies tend to
fight sleep so much since they spend most of their time in it, other than eat
and play. The fond smile stretches John’s cheeks and he looks less weary as he
comes forward and places a kiss on his son’s hair. Mietek gives him a
disgruntled whine and hides his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, soft
laughter follows him into the dark.
“Here, I’ll put him to bed,” John picks Mietek up into his arms, much to the
grumpy baby displeasure. “I hope there is dinner waiting for me when I’m done?”
Stiles rolls her eyes at his smirk. “I remember your share. Roasted chicken and
squash stew with couscous. I’ll make sure your dinner isn’t cold by the time
you’re done with shower.”
“Are you saying I stink?”
A hand splayed above her heart as Stiles gasped. “I would never! Don’t want my
employer to kick me onto the curb now, do I?”
John’s laugh trails him up the staircase. Stiles warms his dinner in the
microwave and later tries to herd Mietek’s toys into a neat bunch. A steaming
plate is waiting for John at the dining table by the time he comes down in a
plain shirt and sweatpants, and the man takes a detour to fetch a bottle of red
wine. “Should I fetch the candles?” Stiles pipes up as she watches John pours
the crimson liquid into a wine glass.
“If the lady wants to dine with me. Nothing upsets the stomach more than eating
alone,” John takes his seat, the spoon in his hand as he gives Stiles an
expected look. Stiles takes the catty-corner with a put-upon sigh. Or as
credible as she could. Although the tilt at the corner of John’s mouth tells
otherwise. He swallows a couple spoonfuls before asking about Stiles and her
mother. Stiles has been a dinner guest to the Stilinski ever since she started
babysitting little Mietek six months ago and they’re comfortable around each
other now to be able to talk about nothing and everything. Stiles babbles about
her plans for summer holiday, while John tries to distract Stiles away from
diving too deep into his ongoing investigation. It’s frustrating and fun; John
is like the father she hopes she’s born to, instead of the asshole of a sperm
donor who left them one night and never came back.
Besides, John does rock the DILF look. Or so says half of the girls in her
school after comparing Sheriff Stilinski to his deputies on Career Day. Tan
skin, blue eyes, sun-bleached hair, lines on his face that makes him look sexy
instead of elderly – he’s in his late thirties, after all. He’s a no-nonsense
kind of adult, but actually let you off the hook with amusement twinkling in
his eyes most of the time.
John takes a sip of wine and notices Stiles’ stare. “Want a sip?”
Stiles’ nose scrunches up. “Hellooo. Minor here.”
“And you’re telling me you follow the rule book to the last dot?”
“Well…no one in reality does that. But you aren’t the right person either to
encourage underage drinking.”
John’s shoulders roll. “I shouldn’t. But I rather encourage responsible
drinking under adult supervision than downing spiked punch in Winter Formal.
You’re sixteen and in high school, don’t tell me you haven’t done anything
illegal yet.”
“That’s stereotyping. And it’s outdated.” John slants an indulgent smile at her
since she doesn’t outright deny. “I can say the v-card is safe in my pocket,
and I’m sensibly terrified of needles.”
John chuckles as he rolls the stem between his thumb and index finger. Stiles’
gaze is fixed to the clear ruby liquid swaying elegantly in the glass. It
doesn’t take a full minute before her curiosity rears its tail in interest.
“Fine. Give it here.” She empties the last mouthful and nearly gags at the
first rush of red wine down over her tongue and down her throat. “Oh God, this
is vile. HOW can you enjoy something like this?”
John snickers loudly at her reaction and claims back the wine glass before she
drops it out of spite. “Looks like you’re out as a wine connoisseur.” He
ignores the scathing glare aimed at him as he gets to his feet and collects the
dirty plate and used utensils. “It’ll take some time getting used to the taste.
Then you’ll either like it or you don’t.” He fills the glass again and instead
of pouring down his throat, he holds the glass towards Stiles. “Dare to take
the challenge again?”
Stiles isn’t a coward, but she is not dumb either. There is no other reason but
the provoking gleam in John’s cerulean eyes for Stiles to ingest alcohol again.
Still, before she could talk herself round and round with logic, her feet have
transported her across the room and her fingers closing in on the smooth and
cool surface of the glass. She raises a brow defiantly and she downs the wine
in one go, working her throat so the awful liquid stays inside her instead of
in the sink, along with the remains of her dinner. She slams the wine glass
down – it’s a miracle the glass doesn’t shatter upon contact with the marbled
island – and a proud chin held high. “There. And FYI: The second time doesn’t
make it better.”
“Impressive.” John notes as he starts up the dishwasher. The claps John gives
her after sound mocking. “But I did say it takes time.” Crimson liquid splashes
into the glass again and Stiles watches John’s Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a
gulp, her throat swallows dryly in chorus. There is a surge in warmth in her
belly that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature or the season, and the
fuzziness surrounding her mind that didn’t exist in the first place. It’s the
alcohol, Stiles is certain, and she should stop accepting the drink John waves
at her.
Last one. No more.
“It still tastes like shit,” The cotton balls must be inbreeding in her mind,
which…ewww. Stiles holds out the wine glass and John must have mistaken her
intention when he tips the bottle and out flow the wine back into the glass.
It’s common for Stiles to lose brain-to-limbs coordination in any hour of the
day, and she should have at least make sure the glass rim touches her lips
before attempting to let gravity get hold of the liquid. Stiles isn’t too drunk
to not notice that the wine should go into her mouth and not on her shirt.
“Shit!” John is there in a heartbeat and puts the glass somewhere safe first as
he assesses the mess – the distinct red stain down her collar and over her
chest. “No worries, we can wash this off. Here, let’s get this off first,” And
promptly pulls the shirt off Stiles, who could only blink with her hands in air
while waiting for reaction, any reaction, to catch up.
“You got some on your bra too.” John releases the front hooks, exposing her
nipples to warm air. Stiles is a fraction second too late in bringing down her
arms and gasps in shock at the drag of John’s hot tongue over the curve of a
breast, cleaning away the droplets of rubies clinging to her skin. The sensory
under her flesh apparently elects to dial sensitivity up to eleven at the
contact of someone else’s appendage; her blood boiling with a constant jolt of
electricity running up and down her spine that has her shiver involuntarily,
her nipples half-awake for attention. Fingers clench and slacken, untether and
so, so lost, when her bra is tugged to fall from behind. Finally they decide to
attach themselves on John’s solid biceps, an anchor so she can get her feet
back on solid ground. The wine is gone from her skin, yet John continues to
draw wet stripes around her breasts, with an occasional scraping from his
teeth.
“AH!” Stiles let out a yelp the moment John closes his lips around a nipple and
sucks. “W-Wait, John…” She can’t replace the moans bubbling out her throat with
words as John rolls the pebbling nub under his tongue, or as he sucks fervently
as if milking her, or clamping down his teeth that sends another jolt straight
down to her crotch. Stiles let out an embarrassing mewl when calloused fingers
pinch the other nipple, working on it until the bud is puffy and tight and
standing proud. There is a heated coil under her gut, and Stiles knows it is
stretched too thin and too taut. “J-John…” Stiles tries to warn him – or shove
him away, her mind can’t make up its mind – when a graze of a fingernail over
the tender nipple finally snaps the coil into pieces, the short-circuited
current explodes and her vision whites.
When awareness returns Stiles finds herself faint with her body juddering from
head to toes. Somewhere between her thighs there is a foreign pulsing that is
making her knees weak; Stiles is certain the hands on her hips is the only
reason she’s not a heap of sprawling limbs on the floor. It takes a while for
Stiles’ brain to identify the words John whispering into her ear, his hot
breath painting a layer of moist on her skin. “–simply by having your tits
played. Such a naughty girl. But I know you don’t want to resist me; you just
want to be my good girl, right?”
What? No. Stiles didn’t have an orgasm for John’s sake. Right?
Stiles opens her mouth to say something – to refute, to deny, to scream – only
to have John’s lips crashing down on hers, the kiss all demanding and consuming
and honeyed-hot. With her air stolen from her lungs and mind, Stiles can only
hooks her fingers into John’s shirt and melt under his kiss, not noticing two
fingers seeping into the elastic waistband of her pajamas shorts and panties
and yank downwards, gravity claiming the garments from knees onwards. John
hungrily feeds on her moans with both of his hands palming and squeezing her
plump bottom, his tongue a successful conqueror of the warm wet cavern it
invaded. Stiles nearly jumps out of her skin when two fingers slide along the
cleft of her vagina, wet with her slick, and then prods at the entrance. She
tries to squirm away from the invasive touch to no avail.
The kiss breaks and wanders to her jaw and neck, and Stiles takes the chance to
gulp as much air as her body needs. John follows the trail of her moles by
peppering little bites behind. “Here, brace your hands like this,” After
securing her palms flat on the island’s surface, John goes south and maps her
back with the same method as her front, his lips brushing any skin they come in
contact with. “J-John…” Stiles can’t turn around, not with the steel grip on
her hips, the moment she feels hot puffs at her ass hole.
“Shhh,” John soothes as he squeezes her cheeks apart for a better view. “You’re
a good girl, right? And good girls get to come more than once.” Stiles can’t
have her legs close on reflex, so she has to compensate by letting her
fingernails bite into her palm at the first touch of tongue on her labia. The
filthy slurping of her leaking juice swamped over the thudding in her ears; her
hips twitch indecisively between moving away or getting more as John’s tongue
dives into her hole, her juice flooding over taste buds. “Please...stop…” Once
again she feels lost to sensory overload. “Ah! No…” Her mind is confused at the
uneven blend of pain and pleasure as John sucks on her clit – the sting of
overstimulation overwhelmed by bright golden ecstasy. This time climaxing
didn’t wreck her as much as the first time, but still leave her breathless and
mind just as hazy.
“Good girl. You’re doing so wonderful for me,” John praises into the kiss,
Stiles a string-less puppet in his arms. She vaguely remembers stumbling out of
the kitchen, John’s arm a firm hold around her waist to keep her from crashing
to the ground as he steals more kisses. In another blink she lands on the
couch, John not breaking the kiss as he follows her down and brackets her with
his elbow. When Stiles is about to run out of air, John finally lifts up his
torso; a clear sheen colors his lips, his eyes have been blown up so much the
blue is only a fine ring around burning black. He plucks away his sweat-soaked
shirt in one graceful movement; sinewy muscles ripple as he reaches for his
pants and tosses it in the same direction as his discarded shirt. There is a
rock-hard bulge under the brief, and a visible wet spot that is definitely not
piss.
“Can you feel how wet you are, sweetheart?” Stiles’ breath hitches as John
collects her slick and licks it of his fingers. “With the amount of juice your
body is producing, I don’t even need lube,” He affirms by circling his thumb
around the rim before plunging in. Stiles chokes on air as the ring muscles
resist at first, but the slick allows smooth entry. John watches as he thrust
his thumb in and out, marvels at the sight of Stiles’ cunt swallowing a part of
him into her hot, velvety creamy hole. “Christ, you’re starving to be filled
up, aren’t you?” He removes his thumb only to replace with two of his fingers.
And it hurts. The sudden stretch of muscles burn in warning. “You dirty little
slut, trying to milk my fingers.”
“’m not…” Stiles tries and cuts off as a third finger joins in and oh fucking
hell that fucking HURTS. Her attempt in writhing away is stopped by the hand on
her hip, and she could only whine as the scissoring fingers inside her prods
and curls and stretches her stubborn tight hole. “S-Stop…please… No more.” John
doesn’t seem to hear her as he sinks his fingers to the knuckle and draws back,
a repetitive gesture in parody of fucking. The pain finally drops to a
manageable dull throb when John removes them and the man gets up from the
couch. Heavy lids could no longer stay open and Stiles let them fall over her
eyes and she takes a breather. An unidentifiable crinkle reaches her ear and
soon John’s hands are back on her. Stiles’ thighs draw close on reflex, but
John has her arranged to be on her knees and hands, and the implication behind
this position instantly snaps Stiles’ eyes open. “No, wait–no–”
“Hush. I know you’re ready for this,” Stiles sucks in sharply at something
blunt caressing her labia – no doubt the head of John’s dick. “You say you’re a
virgin, but I bet you’re a born whore. A slut always hungry for a cock,” Stiles
sobs brokenly at the renew pain as the thick dick penetrates through the rim
inch by inch. “I know you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time
now. Always flashing your ass at me, begging to be fucked–”
“No–”
A loud smack on her butt cheek has Stiles digging her teeth into her bottom lip
at the flare of sting, a tear escaping out of her eye to fall on the armrest.
“Don’t lie to me, you filthy slut. I know whores like you – can never stand the
emptiness inside you so you’ll present to any available cock. You made the
right choice, though. Don’t worry, I know what you desire and you’ll take
everything I give like the good girl you are, right?” John’s balls sits on her
ass and the man sighs fondly. “Feel how much your inside is clenching onto my
cock? Your body is so happy to finally have a cock it doesn’t want to let go.”
Stiles shakes her head, knowing it’s a wasted gesture. She feels to full, as if
her throat is choked from inside instead of out. She gasps wetly as John starts
to move, pulling out until only the glans is still inside, and dives back in
not so gently. Stiles’ body rocks with every thrust. “Ugh, yesss, you’re
perfect, Stiles. Look at you, taking me so beautifully,” John mutters into her
ear before taking a bite on the shell. John’s body a furnace covering her back;
one hand cups her breast while the other entwines with her fingers, palm to
palm. Stiles cringes at the intimate gesture.
Stiles didn’t think she has anymore in her for one more climax, but her body
proves to be contrarily and decides to pull another out of her. John growls at
the squeezing of her inner muscles and pounds into her harder, faster, until
his body suddenly tenses, his fingers nearly crush hers in his tighten clutch.
Stiles sags into the couch, mind and body too drained to do anything. Even the
simple act of breathing hurts. Soft lips descend on her sweaty temple as a hand
strokes her back, soothing her shivers away. “Good girl,” Coarse voice pierces
through the fog that drives Stiles further to the edge of abyss. “You’d done
well, my sweet slut. You make me happy, I’m so proud of you.”
Another step, and Stiles falls into the darkness and remembers nothing else.
 
#
 
Her mom or Scott always bemoans her on her selective self-preservation about
her situations. Well, like any other times Stiles knows they’re wrong. Like
right now. Stiles is back to consciousness at the flip of a switch, and the
first thing that her mind registers is the partially familiar room. She must
had been into the room a handful of times, or at least taking a glance long
enough to be accustomed to parts of the room’s characteristics – the fitted
wardrobe, the light curtains, the bedside lamp with knitted shades. It must be
close to sunrise, since the room is drape in purplish grey.
“Ah, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Stiles’ breath comes to a shuddering halt at
John’s voice coming from…between her legs. It was then that she’s aware of the
familiar faint pulsing around her labia, as if…as if… Stiles cuts off her train
of thoughts and turns her attention to John as he takes his sweet time nibbling
the flesh of her inner thigh. “I said I will be taking care of your needs, and
your body’s been anticipating too long for the right cock to fill it up. I’m
not a cruel person, Stiles; I’ll be sure to keep your pussy satisfied any time
of the day.” He nips at her clit that has her throat shrinks before fetching
something from the side. Stiles recognizes the condom packet and watches as
John puts the rubber on before lining his dick to her entrance. Either her body
is soft from sleep or John has taken time to prepare her beforehand, his dick
slides in with minimal resistance. “I’m right. Your cunt is already hungry for
my cock. Such a greedy cunt.” John bends his body and gives her lips a quick
peck. “Such a greedy, dirty whore.” And begins to fuck her on a wild pace that
has them going over the peak in no time.
Or on time for the baby mobile to announce little Mietek awaken from his
slumber by his cries.
“Heheh. He has great timing,” John chuckles into the crook of Stiles’ neck as
he waits for the wave of intense release to ebb away. He plants kisses on her
collarbone and one of her nipples before drawing out his limp dick, ties the
rubber and aims true to the wastebasket by the vanity table. A thumb brush
tenderly over her flush cheek. “Why don’t you go take a shower first while I
check on the little man? You must be uncomfortable with the overnight sweat.”
He gets up and collects Stiles to her feet too. She winces at the ache shooting
straight up her spine at the smallest movement of her hips. She feels more than
see the smile as John plants it on her shoulder – an apology that bloats up the
ego instead of humbling it.
“Here,” John picks a shirt out of the wardrobe. “No need to bother detouring to
the guest room for your clothes when you can shower in here.” A hand caresses
her arm. “Take your time. I’ll see you when you’re done.” And he’s out of the
room. Mind blank for the first time, Stiles isn’t sure if she should comply or
run the hell out of the house. What John had done to her, what she’s
experiencing right now – nothing about it is appropriate, nothing is normal,
right? She’s not a slut, nor did she display any amorous behavior, no matter
what John guarantees her to be.
…right?
Stiles drops her gaze to the shirt in hand – a well-worn Henley that has been
stretched to the fabric’s limit. John says not to bother with her clothes. That
means… Stiles ears burn from the blood rushing up to her head. John wants her
in his shirt and nothing else. Stiles is Mietek’s babysitter first and
foremost, how could John want her to be around his child without any lingerie?!
This, this is crazy! The man’s out of his mind!
Stiles takes a step forward, only to stop by the sting on her butt cheek. An
image flits through her mind: the moment John spanked her hard enough for her
bones to rattle. Not over 12 hours ago. Stiles doesn’t dare to move from her
spot, mind whirring with frustration and uneasiness and anger and weary
submission. Finally Stiles lets her body decides, and it guides her away from
the door towards the hall.
 
#
 
Freshly out of a delightfully long hot shower, Stiles finds the paracetamol in
the medicine cabinet and pops two dry. She then heads downstairs and finds both
father and son on the couch. Crimson splashes over Stiles’ face as she
remembers it’s the same couch John fucks her on. And now John has his son in
mid-air, the toddler bursts into fit of cackles every time his father lifts him
back up.
Looking at the man laughing along with his son, Stiles can’t compute this
father to the same John who had coerced her into drinking wine and making her
come and fucking her twice since. Everyone in town knows the sheriff and hardly
any would have genuine terrible appraisal for the dutiful and benevolent man.
And yet, Stiles would never agree she’s delusional enough to dreamt John’s dick
inside her.
“Stiles,” During her silent contemplation Stiles didn’t notice John approaching
her. Her frozen body relaxes when the man transfers Mietek into her arms. “I’d
changed and fed him milk. You can put him in the booster chair and make
breakfast first. I’ll feed him the baby food after my turn in the shower.”
“Ah…o-okay.”
She should have expected the hand stroking up her thigh to catch a handful of
her bare bottom instead of wishing for John to simply walk away. The pleased
smile on him both aggravates her nerves and lifting her heart to the sky above
with thousand balloons. He dips to her ear and says in a syrupy soft tone,
“Good girl.” And gives her ass a nice squeeze. Stiles inhales stutteringly at
the lingering knead and the brush of his fair stubble over her jaw.
“It-It is all right for you to be this touchy-feely in front of Mietek?” Stiles
mumbles under her breath as John sweeps his lips at the corner of Stiles’
mouth.
“Mhmm,” John turns and blows raspberry on Mietek’s belly, earning the child’s
giggles as he reaches out for his father’s ears. John gives him his finger to
gum instead as he turns a smirk on Stiles. “Mietek can identify kisses and hugs
as affection. So for now he’ll see me as the affectionate dad who dotes on him
and his nanny. Nothing wrong to him.” With a peck on Mietek’s hair the man
saunters up the stairs. Stiles’ gaze follows until the figure disappears and
tells Mietek, “Your dad is shameless.”
Mietek hums and blows spit bubbles.
 
#
 
All through breakfast John stays close to her, but doesn’t fondle her more than
mere lingering touches on the small of her back or arms or wrists. With Mietek
demanding attention, there is nothing else on the to-do list but to inhale the
omelet and toasts on their plates as well as making sure it’s not the onesie
who eats the baby food. Though Stiles is certain John gets his jollies from
watching Stiles squirms in the oversized shirt whenever she sits her bare butt
down.
All bets are off the moment little Mietek takes his nap. As soon as she closes
the nursery room’s door John has her cornered to the wall beside it for a
claiming kiss that has Stiles’ lips smarting from the bites bestow on them.
John has grabbed her tit and rubs her nipple through the shirt, the other spare
hand sneaks under the shirt to reacquaint to each patch of her skin. Dizzy from
the kiss, Stiles barely has time to prepare when John seizes her thighs and
hoists her up to prop on the wall. Stiles immediately wraps her legs around the
man’s waist, her arms an unforgiving hold on his shoulders. John doesn’t seem
to mind as he alternates nips and pecks on any skin exposed atop of the collar,
his hips rocking below that bumps into Stiles’ pussy on multiple occasions.
John doesn’t slow down when he releases a hand to fish something out of his
pocket. It’s a condom, and Stiles is wondering how John will be rolling it on
in their current position when the foil packet enters her sight. “Put it on for
me,” John grunts lowly, the rumbly sound of an old tractor. Stiles takes the
foil packet and hesitates, long enough for John to be impatient and tugs
painfully on her earlobe. “Stop dawdling. Your insatiable cunt can’t go any
longer without getting a good fuck, and you know it. Stop denying your body
what it needs; I know what your body’s real craving, and that’s my cock. Be a
good girl and be good to yourself.” Stiles tears the foil and rolls the rubber
onto John’s flush dick with shaky hands. She tries to contain the moans rushing
up her throat as John fucks her in earnest right outside his son’s bedroom,
obscene squelching of flesh against flesh fills the hall.
John lets her down on quaking legs the moment she climaxes and guides her into
the room across the hallway – the bedroom belonging to him and Claudia. Once he
has her settled on the bed and pillows with the shirt off, John plugs his dick
into her hole again and Stiles realizes then that John hasn’t find his release
yet. “See how much better you feel once you have my cock filling you up,
sweetheart. There is no reason to second guess yourself. Or me – I’m here to
take care of my little sweet whore to take care of you. You just need to open
up yourself to me and take whatever I give you.” This time he sets the rhythm
on slow – unhurriedly thrusting into her as he explores her body with his
mouth, hanging back once a while on her tits that have the nubs raw and tender
by the time he deviates somewhere else.
Once he places a final peck below her bellybutton John comes back up and dives
for her mouth, a thumb rubbing incessantly on her clit that has Stiles
shuddering through her release. John plunges in for another two times before he
comes into the condom, his mouth an ‘O’ for a silent groan as he continues to
fuck her until her pussy milks him dry. The condom taken care of, John checks
the time on his phone. “Oh. Looks like two more hours and Claudia will be home
from her conference.”
Something must have shown on her face as John smiles indulgently at her as if a
parent would at their child when they ask why do they need to eat the greens.
“Oh Stiles,” He climbs the bed and lays next to her on his elbow, the hand
running up and down her belly as if an owner would stroke a cat. “There is no
need to worry. Claudia is oblivious to everything else but her career and
Mietek. But if you want to tell her…” He pinches a nipple that has Stiles
twitches but not move away. “You can. I won’t mind. But you’re a smart girl,
Stiles. I know you’ll think about consequences before diving right into action,
right?”
From her point of view under him, the light casts shadows on John’s contours,
and not all the shadows are kind. The hand continues to her thigh, calloused
skin rubbing over silky young flesh. “You’re a minor, so I’ll undeniably be
charged with statutory rape and lose my job and my family. But you, Stiles,
people in town know you as Stephanie Miles, the daughter to a single mother who
works in the diner as a waitress, right? The mother who can’t keep her man as
he ran away in the dark.” The fingers sweeping along her sopping cleft end at
her entrance and settle to take a peek inside.
“It’s all a matter of social perception; a respected sheriff with a loving wife
and a newborn son, and you, a horny teenager with a chance of daddy issue,
searching for attention, covetous for a man to take care of your needs,” Three
fingers curl inside her and the thumb rubs the flesh around her clit. Stiles’
eyelids flutter stubbornly to stay open as John nuzzles along her jaw. “I can
move to another state and start a new life if this town doesn’t accept me. But
you? You’ll always be known as the avaricious filthy slut who seduced the nice
sheriff and cost him his life, all just because you want someone to notice you.
And your poor mother? She’ll be the one taking the brunt and the humiliation
for your amatory exploits. Shame on her, isn’t it?” John pulls away to show her
his sad smile and bright eyes.
It’s near impossible to complete a proper sentence in her cloudy mind, let
alone not slurring the words like a stoned alcoholic. Still, something must
have shown on her face since John’s smile splits his cheeks after he read it.
He pumps his wrist that draws waves upon waves of intense pleasure, vacating
Stiles’ mind for one blissful moment. By the time her vision clears John has
surged forward to bruise her lips with his teeth and tongue. “Good girl,” He
says into her pants, into her sweaty skin, between the puffy pink folds leaking
clear juice – a stamp to seal a deal, or a promise.
Stiles can’t tell anymore.
 
#
 
Stiles enters her home just as Melanie Miles steps out of her room for water,
the empty glass in her hand the obvious proof. “Welcome home honey.” Mother and
daughter hug, and Stiles hopes her mom is still groggy from sleep to not notice
her tensing muscles at her touch. “Had fun at the Stilinskis?”
“Yeah. We’re lucky baby Mietek party like a pro while awake and sleep like the
dead once his juice is out.” Stiles pulls back a little to take note of the
mother she hardly spends any time with – with long hours at the diner and
school and everything else, taking a fresh breath of air seems more important
to either of them. Stiles registers her dark circles under her eyes, messy dull
hair and pasty skin – a woman who’d worked so hard yet got nothing in return.
How is this fair, world? “How about our dearest queen? Stop eating cookie dough
just because I’m not here to cook.”
Melanie rolls her eyes mightily. They’re making a point. “That was only ONCE. I
can cook too, you know.”
“I know, I know. You’re the one who taught me all the secrets of making the
perfect omelet, right?” Stiles gives her mother a good squeeze, cheek to cheek.
“Now go back to your beauty sleep. You know you need it.”
“Bossy,” Melanie grins with humor dancing on the lines of her face as she heads
back to her bed.
It isn’t until she’s in bed once the sky is shrouded in ink that Stiles finds
herself anticipating for something.
Or rather, her body is ravenous, despite having filled with dinner an hour ago.
She feels restless – her skin too tight yet a deep hollow balloon inside.
Taking a glance at the thin wall that separates mother and daughter’s bedroom,
Stiles slips her hand under the cover and brushes her pussy. There is a faint
tingle, and that’s all. Nothing to threaten to shake her bones apart or make
her toes curl. Stiles tries to insert her fingers into her hole, and has to
muffle a hiss into the pillow at the awful burn since there isn’t enough of her
slick to ease her dry fingers inside. She even attempts to mimic the rhythm
John designed, and frustratingly she isn’t even halfway to the peak.
It can’t be…
In a fit of insanity, and horribly unsatisfied, Stiles ends up with a marker
pen in hand. Of course, she has enough common sense left not to plug the pen
straight inside her and wiped it down with the hydrogen peroxide in the first-
aid box. Fondling her clit yields minimal slick, but enough for the glossy
surface of the pen to slide in without fuss. It seems her body is confused by
the less thick girth of the pen and refuses to come no matter how deep she
pushes the pen inside. Exasperated, and with the little mix of shame, has
Stiles tossed the pen at the wall. She yanks the blanket over her head and
tries to keep her mind blank for the rest of the night, ignoring the siren call
to a certain cock down the familiar path.
 
#
 
Three days later finds Stiles knocking on the Stilinski’s door. Claudia greets
her enthusiastically the moment she crosses into the house. “Thank you again
for staying the night. We don’t even know what to do without you – I have the
night shift, and John needs to be at the station early tomorrow. You’ll have
Mietek and the house until tomorrow afternoon. We’re not disturbing your plans
for the summer, are we?”
“Nah. Not really. I’ll either be the third wheel with Scott and Allison at the
bowling alley or taking a shift at Anna Beans. I heard the Stilinskis have the
easiest money.”
Claudia laughs in delight as she herds Stiles towards the den, where John is
watching the news channel. The man turns around and gives her a warm smile. “Hi
Stiles. Glad you’re back again.”
Stiles’ lips curve into what she hopes is a tentative smile. Claudia, not
noticing the sudden awkwardness in the air, bulldozes on. “Yes! That’s what I
said. You mom won’t mind if you move in with us right?” She chuckles at her own
joke. “Well, Mietek’s out cold. For now. No need to be humble inside these
walls. And John, make sure she’s taken care of.” Oh if only she knew the
suggestive implication behind those words.
“Yes ma’am.” John gets out of the couch and gives his wife a farewell gift on
her cheek before walking her to the door. Witnessing the simple affection
between them has Stiles’ gut churning distastefully. What did she really hope
to gain in the first place when she bounds towards Claudia’s call at the first
ring? She’s from a single-parent family, and no, she doesn’t think it’s
incomplete or need mending, but that doesn’t mean she gets high on watching
someone else’s family break apart. Claudia doesn’t deserve it, and Mietek the
least.
Deep in her swirly thoughts she didn’t move from her spot since Claudia last
left her at, or the approaching figure, and nearly jumps out of her skin at the
hand grabbing her tit from behind. John nuzzles the point between the neck and
shoulder as he drags her into his embrace, her back to his solid chest. Stiles’
eyes widened at the hard-on poking into her bottom, and is aghast by the relief
swelling under her ribs.
“How is my sweet slut?” He mouths on an ear and nibbles the lobe. “Did you give
your body the attention it needs? Did you get a substitute cock to fulfill your
demanding cunt? Or were you satisfied by your fingers only?”
“C-Can’t–”
“Hmm, what?”
There is no reason to add to Stiles’ bucket of shame. But it’s been three days.
Three days with wrongwrongwrong chanting in her mind whenever she tried
multiple methods and multiple positions just for that one single, intense
release. She’s frustrated as hell, and she knows she’s at her limit. Or at
least, her body is.
“I tried…with my fingers. Can’t find it, can’t c-come… Please…” Stiles chokes
on a bubbling sob, but she can’t find it to mind.
“Hush. It’s all right. There is nothing wrong with you,” A flick of his fingers
and the button comes free and the zip loose. Her chest expands at the first
contact of John’s hand under her panties, her hips rocking in search for his
touch to sooth away the ache, to silence her yearning mind. “See how wet you
are right now? And I’m not even doing anything. I’m right. You are a natural
cockslut – you won’t be able to come just by stuffing a dildo inside. Your body
doesn’t belong to you, but to whoever that can fuck you good with a real cock.”
John rolls his hips leisurely, and Stiles shudders at the meager taste of what
is about to come. “And you’re lucky to have me.” With those words he rams his
fingers inside her until Stiles sees stars.
Stiles is faintly aware of John moving her to the dining table and taking the
chair behind her, his strong thighs framing her sides. “Why don’t we try
something else tonight?” Stiles cranes over her shoulder to fix her gaze on
John, and then at the erect dick capable of slicing diamond. “You pussy must be
famished by now, so why don’t you be the one to feed my cock? You take the
helm, and decide how much you need. It’s not difficult; just go slow,” John
guides her back to his dick, the glans giving the rim a welcoming kiss. “Just
sink your ass down…yesss.” John purrs at the velvet creamy heat consuming him;
he’s barely able to hold onto the rein of control at the slow descending pace.
With her constant fingering, the ring of muscles thankfully doesn’t flare in
pain at the intrusion, and Stiles barely register the fingers digging bruises
into her skin. The moment she sits on John’s balls, Stiles lets out a long
exhale – the final piece of the puzzle finally fits in. A kiss is planted
between her shoulder blades. “That’s it. You did so good. That’s my good girl.”
The hands guide her hips to rock gently on his lap until Stiles finds the
strength to lift up until only half of his dick is inside and drops back down.
With her hands perch on the table, Stiles sets the rhythm of spearing her pussy
open with John’s dick, while the man fondles her tits from time to time. There
is no competition for a swift climax, yet achieving the release is equally
intense.
“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart,” Stiles nods languidly and lets the hand on
her shoulder steers her up the stairs and into the bedroom. Once she’s
comfortably among the pillows John sheaths his half rigid dick back inside her,
the ruined rubber disposed and a new one in its place. They lie on their side,
sharing casual honeyed kisses and savory touches as they wait for John’s
refractory period to pass. Stiles can feel the shaft inside her swells and
throbs into a solid rod, no doubt aided by the convulsing inner muscles flexing
on instinct. Stiles is actually glad in knowing that John isn’t as unaffected
as she is by the heavy breaths she’s drinking in.
“Come here, you naughty whore,” John’s voice is a low gravel as he straightens
them up without detaching his dick from her hole. Stiles mewls as she takes the
dick to the root, the consuming fullness inside her that cannot be replicated
elsewhere. “You perfect cockslut. Look how much you’re glowing just from cock-
warming, just having a cock plugging your hole. That’s why I know you’ll keep
our little tryst a secret from Claudia.” He sucks a nipple to pebble hard and
raw before heading for the other, peppering kisses along the way.
“There are so many chances for you to call the station, or Claudia, or anyone.
But you didn’t. And you know why?” The firm grip hauls her up to the tip and
slams her back down, punching a keen out of her. “That’s because your body is
afraid of losing me. You subconsciously know you’re made for taking my cock, so
you can’t stand to be separated from me. I’ll bet that’s how you feel for the
past three days, right?” Stiles bounces her hips on her own accord,
occasionally interrupted by John nailing upwards. The bedframe rattles beneath
them. “Good girl. Take it like the pretty whore you are. You know you’re made
for this – to be fucked and your cunt wrecked and nothing else.”
After Stiles sags under his chin feeling as if she’d blown her mind with
dynamite sticks, John continues to rock his dick until he shoots his load into
the rubber with a silent grunt. A finger under her chin directs her up to
John’s mouth, relishing the aftermath in lazy sloppy kisses. “Such a good girl
for me.” He taps a quick kiss between her sweaty brows; his voice a slithering
black snake into her ears. “Give all of you to me, hmm? I gave my word to
Claudia to take care of you, and you’d hate me to break my promise, right?”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Same as the first chapter, there is triggering materials below. Read
     at your own risk.
     And if you hate this kind of work, don't tell me. I'll just reply
     'told you so :D' (Yes, with the smiley.) Why? Well, then, why are you
     even in chapter 2?
     Again, no beta. All mistakes are mine.
Two Years Later
 
 
“Here we are. Finally,” With the jeep in park, John leaps out, filling his
lungs with the cool air of Lake Tahoe while his legs finding comfort on solid
soil after the five hours’ drive.
Stiles follows him out much more sedately, her eyes fix to the sight of the
enormous body of water and the cabin next to it – a cozy, rustic looking
building with a broad front porch and attached to a simple dock raised a few
inches above the water. The lake house is meant for a family vacation, and
Stiles is invited along after the Stilinskis got wind of her getting accepted
into Berkeley. The more the merrier, Claudia gushes, until the day she got a
call from her parents back in Poland, and had to tuck a tail between her legs
because how dare she not let them meet their three years older grandchild?!
“I don’t want him to travel until he’s built up immunity!” Claudia screamed on
this side of the line, but acquiesced to let them buy the tickets for mother
and son. “No, don’t cancel the trip just because we’re not here! You need a
break, Sheriff Stilinski, and so help me I’ll tie you to the passenger seat so
Stiles can drive you both there.”
Stiles takes her eyes away from the sparkling surface of the lake when a hand
lands on her shoulder, the smile John wears as warm as the sunlight oozing
through the trees. “Come on. Let’s get our bags in first.”
The cabin is two-story with basic layout, so it doesn’t take them long to
locate the master room. Huge French windows face the lake and the bed enough
for five to sleep abreast. There is even a nice fireplace by one side of the
wall. “Claudia will definitely love it here,” Stiles says the first thing that
comes to mind.
In her periphery John shrugs nonchalantly. “Can’t change what has been done.”
He takes a seat at the edge of the bed. “Come here, Stiles.”
Stiles turns and first notices the gap between John’s thighs – a space created
just for her. “Now?”
“Think of it as us commencing our first vacation together. It’ll be a worthy
memory, right?”
She licks her lips, letting saliva pools inside her mouth as she approaches
John and gets to her knees. A hand combs through her shoulder-length hair, all
gentle and fascinated, as Stiles free the man’s dick from the confines of his
brief and jeans. She closes her lips around the glans and give kitten-licks to
the slit, earning a sharp tug of her hair. Stiles lets herself take a small
amount of pride in it. Little by little she works her throat as she swallows
the hardening cock, a firm weight on her tongue while her cheeks dent in the
middle of sucking.
They had found out that as long as Stiles is given time to prepare her gagging
reflex is nonexistent. And not too soon she has her nose buried in fair pubic
hair with John’s dick lodged securely in her throat. In the empty room John’s
heavy breathing amplifies; there is a thudding ache to her scalp due to the
tight fist in her hair. Stiles pulls back and lets her tongue swirl around the
tip as her fingers pump the base and fondle the heavy balls.
“Christ. Christ.” John hisses out, his hips twitch impatiently as Stiles drags
her tongue over the underside of his dick before wrapping it in her warm wet
mouth again. John has once mentioned how obscene her pink lips look stretched
by the girth of his dick. The guttural growl is Stiles’ only warning before the
unforgiving grip has Stiles’ head immobile as he fucks into her throat in
abandoned. “Take it, slut. You like having your mouth ruined too, don’t you.
Turned on as you look at yourself with swollen lips and sore jaw in the mirror;
unable to resist having your tummy filled with my come before breakfast. You
hopeless, wanton whore.”
John comes straight down her throat and Stiles slurps for the last few drops
before letting go his limp shaft. John grabs her by the arms and throws her on
the bed, the man surges forward to taste his salty seed in her wet cavern and
Stiles’ moans. “As much as I love to keep you in bed,” John mumbles as he treks
kisses down to her collarbones, a supple mound of her breast cupped in his
palm. “I’d like to enjoy the view outside of four walls too.” He steals a last
kiss before getting out of the bed. “Let’s get you ready for the outdoor.”
 
#
 
By ‘getting her ready’ John means to strip her bare of fabric other than the
blindfold over her eyes, a spreader bar straps to her thighs, forcing her legs
apart and her hands resting on the deck chair’s armrests – not to be removed
until ordered otherwise. Inside her a butt plug settles contentedly.
Stiles keens, her shoulders squirm in self-constraint when John runs the
vibrator over her clit again and again in maddening feather-light degree, her
fingers digging into the wood of the chair in effort of keeping her hips still.
“Do you know we’re in the direct view of another lake house just across of
ours?” John says quietly as he nuzzles and nips the skin behind her ear. “What
happens if someone comes out of the house, hmm? What do you think will be their
focal point if they glance straight here?”
Stiles’ heart shrinks, her breath labored with the sudden rise of helpless
panic. With the blindfold in place she can’t make her own conclusion that the
lake house on the other side is undeniably empty. “I wonder if it’s just a
person, or a group renting the place. Can you imagine, having more than a pair
of eyes staring at you as you spreading your legs in open-air?” He pinches a
pebbled rosebud, more juice gushes out to soak the chair. “I bet they’ll think
you’re a horny bitch – all ripe and ready to be fucked and filled with their
seeds. But you’ll like it. Oh I know you’ll love it, you insatiable slut –
getting pounded nonstop by cocks, having come spreading over your body like
butter and leaking out of your holes. And even then you’ll beg for more.”
He presses down the vibrator on her clit and Stiles is a hairbreadth too late
in holding back the scream erupting from inside her. She’s not yet drops the
handle for her body to climax. In the past two years John had her body broken
in not to come until he had his dick inside her. The delayed orgasm always has
Stiles’ limbs frail like a newborn colt after, but the intense pleasure
juddering through her body is one she’ll go through fire and ice to experience
again.
“Good girl,” John praises as he runs soothing hand down her trembling side.
“Tell me what you need.”
A slew of demands, of pleads come fore to mind, all at the tip of her tongue.
She doesn’t let them have her voice. Instead, she asks for, “Kiss me, please.”
Stiles eagerly leans into the hand that cups her cheek, mewling beautifully as
she invites John’s tongue to stay with hers. It’s not easy to keep her mind
away from the heat gathering under her gut or the jolts of pleasure sprinting
into her mind, but she tries. Oh how hard she tries.
“Enough.” Stiles’ heart skips in delight at the undercurrent hankering in
John’s growl. She doesn’t move an iota when John switches off the vibrator, or
when he removes the spreader bar. Only when the man plucks her off into air
that Stiles does drape her arms round his neck, her ankles crosses at the small
of his back. He takes a bite at the thrumming pulse under her skin, hard enough
to break the flesh and has her keening for more.
“Place your hands to your sides and hold onto the rail.” John says once he
stops moving. With her fingers Stiles traces the course wood behind her and
clamp down. John has her elevated a little to shove his rock-hard shaft up into
her dripping pussy. With the extra presence of the butt plug her pussy seems to
be a tighter fit, but John manages. “Come for me. Go on…there’s a good girl.”
It doesn’t take more than five thrust for Stiles to come like the water of a
broken dam – the water emptying out in an uncontrollable and implausible speed.
John manhandles her until she has her back to him, her shaky feet on the ground
as she faces the lake. The soft fabric of John’s shirt prickles her back with
heightened senses as he closes in on her, one hand sliding the butt plug out
and leaves behind a gaping asshole. Stiles doesn’t think the sight is
attractive, but John assures her it’s the best view he’d ever set eyes on –
that no famed photograph or legendary art could compare – while rubbing the
sore rim reverently. John loves her pussy best; could spend hours eating her
out tirelessly. But sometimes he favors her asshole too, making sure to smear
the other hole with ample lube before fucking her into oblivion.
“You know what,” John says under heavy breath as he trails kisses along her
shoulder; his fingers tangled with Stiles’ atop the banister, content in
sheathing his dick first. “I don’t think I like sharing you with strangers. No.
Too much risk there. How about, how about I reward the boys at the station?
Hmm, what do you think? I know you have a blossoming crush for a certain Deputy
HALE there.”
The words may be muffled by the drumming in her ears, but Stiles hears them
loud enough, and writhes in embarrassment. No one is supposed to know; she
didn’t even tell SCOTTY.
“Yeah, I knew. You know better than to hide things from me, slut.” He rams into
her that nearly has Stiles loses her footing. “But it’s all right. Even I can
see the boy’s appeal – his hazel eyes, the biceps under the uniform, his
grouchy frown. I’d wager you must have seen him in leather, right? All the bad
boy image once he’s off the clock. And you must have dreamt of him fucking you
so rough you can’t even walk for days. Right?” Stiles’ breath hitches as John
bites down on a patch of skin that bounds to bloom into a deep bruise later.
“I have an idea. Since you’re moving to Berkeley, we can find an apartment for
you.” John lets go one of her hands to knead her tits, nail flicking her nipple
into full erect. “A place just for us, when we visit. No need to fret, I’ll
help with the budget.” Stiles rests her head on John’s shoulder as he nuzzles
her heated cheek. “I’ll have the deputies send in their clean bill first, of
course. But all that matters to you is that Hale kid, isn’t it. No worries,
I’ll let you have a solo night with him before I bring in the rest of the boys.
Or better yet, I’ll supervise right beside you as he fucks you. Don’t want you
damaged before the other boys get their share.” Two more pumps and his hot load
paints her inside white.
“Can’t wait for it, huh,” John dips down to kiss the rest of her energy away.
“That’s my sweet whore.”
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