Teen Wolf Preferences

Chapter X: Hot and Bothered.

DEREK HALE.

There was something about you wearing a tank top and shorts that barely covered your plump behind that got Derek all hot and bothered. The bad side of it all was that it was your usual attire whenever you were at his place. He never mentioned anything, but you could see the way he was eyeing you when you moved about the loft.

So you proceeded to tease him with a shorter tank top, bending over around him with the back of your body in full view. He suddenly growled and picked you up, hearing a squeal of laughter leave your lips.
"Derek, what are you doing?"
"I'm fixing an issue. You've been naughty." He smirked and flashed his eyes at you after he dropped you on the bed.

And just like you turned him on with your clothes, the control you heard in Derek's voice turned you on.

SCOTT MCCALL.

If nothing else, Scott was very candid about things and he always gave you compliments - dirty or nice, even in public if it was deemed necessary. He loved seeing you in skirts, it was a really good way to expose your long legs and rounded butt. He didn't like others staring, but he sure loved walking just a foot behind you.

"Scott, come on. We're gonna be late, stop being slow." You urged and grabbed his hand, pulling him alongside you. He whined and you rolled your eyes. "But I like walking behind you."
"You're a perv."
"Your fault for wearing skirts."
"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow then blushed, "oh. I like skirts..."
"Oh, trust me, sweetheart. I love 'em." He smacks your bottom as you round the corner to head to another class. Luckily, the hallway was empty.

STILES STILINSKI.

Stiles loved seeing you wear his shirts. Sometimes, he would purposely get all your clothing at his place dirty or forget to wash them, just so he could watch you walk around an empty house in his plaid shirt.

"Stiles!" You whined, looking through the drawer you managed to occupy, or half of it, for your clothes. "There's nothing here, but my underwear. Where are all my clothes?"
"Err, in the wash?"
"Again? Still? Who does the laundry around here?!" You sighed in frustration and walked to the bed, slipping on his shirt that was precariously laid on it. You could smell it was fresh as you breathed in the lovely softener when you noticed Stiles staring at you mesmerised. You blinked in embarrassment and quickly slipped it on you, dropping the towel to the ground.

He gulped and you could see the growing erection in his pants, so you sat down on his lap and smirked, his shirt opened to reveal some of your flawless skin.
"The shirts do it for you, eh, lover?"
He nodded and attacked your neck with his lips.

JORDAN PARRISH.

You loved staring at his thoughtful face and the muscles on his arms twitching whenever he was doing something, especially writing. He was a masterpiece ready to be outlined by an artist. You would stare so often you completely blanked out, only to be snapped out of your lustful thoughts by his hand on your shoulder, face or his voice calling your name.

One night, the two of you were working on a case once more, trying to figure out the strange occurrences and murders in Beacon Hills. But yet again, you were enthralled in him that you didn't hear his explanation. When he noticed that he started with nonsense to which you just nodded, then he continued into the more kinky conversation and you nodded yet again.
"(y/n), snap out of it."
You blinked up at him and cleared your throat, embarrassed. He smirked knowingly, pulling you to your feet and into the table, your noses touching.