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PART TWO: DERA

 

Of fucking course.

 

Because absolutely nothing in Dera’s life can happen in her favour (besides being pretty, smart, athletically gifted, healthy, over five feet tall, and being born into the oldest and most powerful bloodline in the county), she should have known that when Stiles Assclown Stilinski approached her after basketball practice to ask her on a date it was going to end poorly.

 

Also she should have known it was a really bad idea to have public unprotected sex in the woods in broad daylight on said date with the sheriff’s son. But Dera can totally explain that one away because:

 

(1) Every other thing that had (loudly) come out of Stiles’ mouth before they had sex was a complaint about being a virgin, so there was at least a 96% chance he didn’t have a congenital STD. Although, Stiles’ mom was a bit of a hippie when she was alive so who knows what she got up to when she was still kicking.

 

(2) Only two complete morons would try to have sex in their houses when their parents are the mayor and the sheriff. Sure, the nature preserve wasn’t a great place either, but Dera did her best to drag him as far from civilisation as she could without tiring him out too badly. Not to mention that Mr. Stump had no business being all flat and secluded and perfect for fucking on top of.

 

And (3) when the guy that you’ve been obsessed with since the second grade waits for two hours after school just to ask you out, you say fucking yes. Like, Dera has a reputation to uphold and all, so she did her very best to keep all her responses icy and indifferent in front of her teammates, but there was never a chance of her turning him down.

 

Over the last nine years, she’s amassed four whole multi-subject notebooks full of all things Stiles like cute or funny things he’s said (including every single word he’s ever said to her verbatim), outfits he’s worn, his birthday (June 6th), his favorite color (red), his favorite movie (Star Wars Episode IV), his favorite show (South Park), his favorite food (curly fries), his eye color (birth certificate says brown, but it’s rootbeer with honey highlights and dark chocolate lowlights), his favorite animal (blue-ringed octopus), his blood type (O negative), his ethnicity (Polish and German aka vanilla ice cream with vanilla sprinkles), his address (23 Laurel Lane), his parents’ names (Noah Stilinski and Claudia Gajos), his height (5’12), his license plate number (60GM387), his favorite school subject (history). She even has a dated log of every time he gets a haircut. 

 

So, when Stiles mentioned a picnic, Dera jumped on the chance to get him alone in the woods. She immediately came up with a fool proof plan to get him out of his pants and then pussy whip the fuck out of him. And it worked.

 

Well, kind of. He texted her a few times after over the weekend, but Dera was a little preoccupied thinking about him while fucking anything in her room that was in the slightest bit phallic and blacking out for hours at a time. She couldn’t reply to him due to the fact that if she so much as thought of the letter S, it seemed to set her off into some kind of sex frenzy. She even got off a couple times to the street view of his house on google maps. And on Monday, when she saw him at school, the only thing keeping her from eating him alive was the shame of having two full body orgasms just trying to type his address into the search bar. (And the niggling fear that Stiles asked her out as a joke and she made a fool of herself by fucking him.) It took every ounce of her willpower to approach him at lunch without screaming in embarrassment or begging for his dick or doing both at the same time. And for a second, it felt like her body was doing what she needed it to do instead of what she felt like doing, almost like it was on autopilot.

 

Now, she knows that was not the case because a few short hours later, she blacked out entirely and woke up to a splitting headache, half naked on Stiles’ bedroom floor. So, she does what any sane person would do after waking up with semen in their vagina and no recollection of how it got there. She tries to kill the person who has their penis out. And she doesn’t even feel bad about it in retrospect because the second she showed him mercy and stopped strangling him, he went off on some tangent accusing her of being magic. He really said magic with his whole chest at his big age. He was kind of right, but still what a stupid ass thing to come at her for right out the gate.

 

As it turned out, he was the magic one and the fact that he didn’t think for a second that this could be his fault when he performed a ritual on her says volumes about him as a person. Like, Dera knew he was an asshole, but ‘asshole’ was clearly an understatement. He isn’t a cunt with a heart of gold. He’s just a cunt. A cute cunt. With a big dick. And pretty eyes. And these adorable little moles all over his body.

 

Anyways, just because Dera wants to play connect the dots on his ass doesn’t mean he can just treat her any type of way. She has standards. If she didn’t, she would have fucked that homophobic bitch Kate Argent when she grabbed her ass at a party a month ago. But she didn’t because Kate Argent graduated six years ago with Dera’s uncle, Peter, and keeps showing up to high school parties to get drunk and pretend she’s not gay while eating clit a’la cum for dinner.

 

As if Dera needed more proof that Stiles is a piece of shit undeserving of her amazing pussy, he wasn’t even the one who told her that he did a ritual on her the first place! She found out that night while sitting in the bathroom floor with an allowance’s worth of pregnancy tests and Plan B. She only did one test out of curiosity even though she knew it was too early to tell because she wanted know how it worked.

 

While she was peeing on the stick, however, a loud cackle startled her so badly that she dropped it into the toilet. It didn’t just sound like it was in the room with her. It sounded like it was in her head with her.

 

Dera didn’t even have enough time to doubt that it happened, the voice tsking at her and saying something in some weird Slavic language. (She only knows it’s Slavic because of the two weeks she spent trying to learn Polish to impress Stiles, which never happened because she’s never had a reason to speak Polish.) Dera, having long accepted that she’s crazy, figured that hearing voices was long overdue and just started responding to it. What harm is there in talking to something made up by her subconscious anyway?

 

She asked the voice who it was, and it said it was her, so it’s not like she wasn’t a little skeptical to begin with. Plus, it knew all this weird stuff like how she wasn’t pregnant and why nothing she’d eaten in the last two days had satiated the emptiness in her belly.

 

Food requires energy to consume, energy to digest, energy to convert to energy to acquire more food to consume. We need more energy than food we can consume. We need to absorb energy.”

 

“How do I do that?”

 

Let’s visit the mage, and I’ll show you.”

 

Turns out by ‘mage’ it meant ‘Stiles’, and on the hour walk from the school to the vet’s office the next day, the voice had plenty to reveal about Stiles. Firstly, he’s not a sex god. He just killed a goat or something in the name of an actual sex god so he’d be a good lay. But most importantly, that he’d taken advantage of her willingness to fuck him to get to her virginity, and that he’d used her virginity as currency to buy magical energy. So, if you think about it, that energy belongs to Dera. And Dera has every intention of taking it back.

 

She figures if Stiles rolled out the demonic welcome mat on her body, then he it’s his responsibility to get this demon the fuck out of her. Luckily, he seems to be on the same page, so after Dera is demon-free, she’s going to blackmail him into being her personal magic monkey until his well is dry. And on top of that, she’s going to tease him mercilessly until his balls turn navy blue and fall off, then she’s going to play hackysack with them on his grave. 

 

Also Scott’s a werewolf, and surprisingly that answers more questions than it creates.