Stiles snaps his mouth shut mid-sentence, his nostrils flaring as he catches Derek’s scent, and he doesn’t bother saying goodbye to the others as he turns away. Derek’s only just gotten out of his cruiser but the air is already heavy with the scent of his impending heat; it’s not something anyone with a nose can ignore or misinterpret. It’s enough to have Stiles’ nipple go tight, to make his dick fatten up in his shorts, his body getting ready to fuck. Stiles tucks the corners of his mouth down as he rounds Lydia’s car, swaggering towards Derek. Derek doesn’t take kindly to teasing when his heat brings him to Stiles.
No. Derek in heat is a willful, bossy creature, and Stiles never had a pliant omega under him, only ever had Derek since he popped his first knot at fifteen. He knows only the taste of Derek’s slick and come, knows only what it means to be manhandled into place by an omega in need. Knows how sweet it is when Derek, fucked-out and blissful from hours of breeding, gives himself over in the end, lets Stiles push him onto his back and pull his legs apart, sink into him and fuck him, hold him down.
It’s been two years now of shared heats and ruts, but outside of it, they’re still only the Sheriff’s son and the town’s best deputy to each other, never mind that everyone knows what’s going on.
Stiles is the kid Derek fucks when he can’t stay away, and Derek is the omega Stiles set his eyes on when he was fourteen and couldn’t even knot his own hand yet.
When he flicks his eyes up, Derek’s leaning back against the cruiser. He’s still in uniform, and he looks angry, pissed off, his arms crossed over his chest, and Stiles scents the air as he closes in on him.
“Already messing up your pants, huh,” he says, feeling a little dizzy with how prominent the scent of Derek’s slick is in the air this close to him.
Derek looks Stiles up and down, and Stiles straightens up in response. “You look like a fucking tool.”
Stiles smirks, unable to help himself as his dick goes fully hard between one heartbeat and the next. “I have a tool to fuck you—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Derek presses out between clenched teeth, grabbing Stiles by the arm and pushing him up against the car, crowding up against him and caging him in with his arms. “Just shut up, Stiles.”
Stiles licks his lips, hooks his fingers into Derek’s belt loops and pulls him in until Derek has to feel how hard Stiles is already for him, how good he’ll knot him. “Make me.”
I think the thing about omega!Stiles is that he’s never been one for those stereotypical alphas at all. Sure, during his heats his body wants what it wants, but ask him during literally any other time he’ll always pick a nice beta or fellow omega, or, in a pinch, an atypical and less jacked-up-testosterone-bomb of an alpha.
In Stiles’ experience, alphas are more often than not complete assholes, and Stiles’ life is too short for this, frankly.
Then, along comes Derek. He looks like every single horrible alpha stereotype. Too preoccupied with how large he can make his muscles and how tight he can make his jeans to make sure his junk is always prominently on display. Ugh. Stiles is just not into it, have some fucking tact.
But, in spite of himself, he finds himself really loving that beard. Loving it to a point where he maybe facebook stalks Derek just a little bit. Just to check out the beard. Maybe he could make Scott try for a beard, just to have a beard in his circle of friends and maybe get over this weird beard obsession. He’d grow one himself, but past attempts had proved to a devasting degree how pathetic a beard his body can manage even under the best of circumstances.
It gets worse, though, when he happens to end up next to Derek for a while at a casual party, and he smells amazing. Alphas usually smell good from sheer chemistry, but Derek is a whole other level. Stiles wants to rub himself all over that.
He assumes his heat is just coming on early, and spends a weird three weeks expecting it to hit any day, only for it to not happen at all. He even goes to the doctor, who tells him his hormone levels show that his heat is on schedule to arrive a month later like expected.
It doesn’t make sense.
Another party comes up, and Stiles subtly passes Derek a few times just to test… and yes, Derek smells just as amazing as last time.
So he’s forced to conclude that not only does he have a kink for salt-and-pepper beard (but only Derek’s for some reason. Other beards don’t seem to have the same effect, what the fuck…) but his body has also apparently decided that they have amazing physical chemistry. But the muscles alone… no, there’s no way Derek isn’t a dick, Stiles is just not getting anywhere near that. He loves himself too much, okay.
Thing is, though, heat partners are a thing, and Stiles is not an idiot. His heat-ridden self would weep with joy from having Derek around to fuck him through the floor for those two-three days until he regains the use of his senses. So he sends Derek the paperwork, all nice and neutral to avoid anyone feeling pressured, and the papers come back all filled out and signed. They even match up almost exactly on the “will do, won’t do” list. Derek has a thing about his stomach being touched too much, and Stiles doesn’t want to be called degrading names. Sure, in heat he’d lap it up, but afterwards he’d feel dirty.
Anywho, heat comes up and Stiles barely even remembers it afterwards. He’s already way into the heat daze when Derek arrives, and barely has enough sense to reconfirm his consent before it’s on. Three amazing days pass, and Stiles’ spank bank is filled for the next several years.
Thing is, he does have vague memories of Derek being very tender and caring, and judging from the food wrappers and empty water bottles in the trash, neatly put away by the time Stiles wakes up alone on day four, Derek had been diligent in his caretaker duties as well. So he forced to admit that Derek is at least a marginally nice person.
But he’s still a jacked up alpha, and Stiles isn’t into that.
Except, two heats later Stiles isn’t so sure. Day three hadn’t even really been a heat for the last one, he’d been so thoroughly sated. But he hadn’t said anything when he woke up and got Derek worked up for another round, and Derek hadn’t commented on the lack of heat scent on him. It had been almost a full day of just… lounging around, having lazy sex and eating junk food. And they didn’t talk about it.
But, as was mentioned earlier, Stiles isn’t actually an idiot, despite what Lydia likes to say. So he pulls himself together and has a talk with Derek. Which ends with a date. And then another date, and oh god, only a few weeks later Stiles has to eat his words and admit to the world and himself that Derek is a completely nice guy. He does like to work out a lot, but seems mostly uninterested in how it makes his body look. He does spend quite a lot of time and product on his beard and hair, but Stiles is into that, so win/win.
And most of all, Derek is just incredibly kind and caring, and admits to Stiles during a post-coital snuggle that he was shocked beyond belief when he presented as an alpha. He’d literally never thought it possible.
Cue some very interesting conversations and kink discussions, and okay, Stiles is gonna marry this man, there’s literally no force on earth that can stop him.
Sterek AU: Alpha!Derek and Omega!Stiles are known for their unorthodox approach to the Alpha/Beta/Omega traditions.That’s how they end up in bed, agreeing on casual relationship. While being afraid of falling into the “traps” of their biology they don’t realise they’ve already fallen in love…
This sorta turned into A/B/O so I hope you don’t mind! Also on ao3!
As an omega of somewhat considerable means, Stiles never had to worry about going through a heat alone.
After he had turned eighteen―having officially presented as an omega at seventeen to the surprise of nearly everyone who knew him, even just in passing―his dad had started the arduous, and often traumatizingly embarrassing, search for an alpha to help see Stiles through his heats. It was a typical occurrence for omegas and their families, hiring an alpha, something that most accepted as a simple fact of life while others compared it to sexual slavery, nevermind the fact that it was merely business.
It had taken the Sheriff months of extensive interviews and grueling interrogations with various alphas before they had finally found Stiles a suitable heat partner. Said partner none other than the Sheriff’s most decorated, most dedicated deputy: one alpha by the name of Derek Hale.
By his own admission, the Sheriff had never once thought to look within his own department for an alpha, not wanting to blur the lines between his work and personal lives too much. Not until the incident with the arrested alpha.
Stiles had been dropping off a healthy lunch for the Sheriff at the station when an alpha who had been in the station’s holding cell, waiting to be booked for a drunk and disorderly, started harassing Stiles. He had called Stiles a colorful array of disparaging, derogatory omega slurs, making all sorts of disgusting, demeaning sexual comments.
Paralyzed in both humiliation and anger, not sure whether to cry or scream in anger, Stiles had simply stood there in the middle of the station, helpless to stop the barrage of insults and sleazy propositions. His only salvation came in the form of Derek who had rushed to his side after entering the bullpen from the evidence room, flashing his eyes at the alpha in the holding cell until he relented and bared his throat, falling silent as Derek viciously growled at him.
Afterward, Derek had escorted Stiles to the Sheriff’s office, making absolutely sure he was alright before leaving to get back to work, having to file some pertinent paperwork. He had flared his eyes at the other alpha again for good measure as he passed on his way to his desk, smirking to himself as the grown man whimpered like a pup.
The Sheriff had approached Derek later that same evening to see if he would have any interest in assisting with Stiles’ heats, after thoroughly discussing the idea with Stiles first, of course, Derek one of the only alphas Stiles had ever approved of. Derek had been pretty amenable to the idea, agreeing to the terms the Sheriff laid out without insisting on adding any additional terms of his own to better benefit himself, only asking for a comfortable bed.
It had originally been a ruse to keep other alphas from sniffing around during Stiles’ heats, the presence of another eligible, virile alpha of fine breeding enough to deter them from chasing after Stiles like a pack of horny whelps. But of course, their little arrangement did not remain completely innocuous for very long at all.
The last couple of times I’ve opened prompts, I’ve had multiple requests for various royalty AUs, so here’s another ABO one that’s kind of a mishmash of all the different requests I received. (It was supposed to be longer, tbh, but it’s been sitting in my draft folder for several months now so I think this is as far as it’s going. It’s also the second version; the first one I wrote was way too dark and painful.)
“Try to be polite,” Laura whispered, reaching over to straighten the collar of Derek’s robes.
Derek nodded stiffly, his jaw clenched tight with nerves. The terms of the marriage agreement were already laid out and agreed to between Laura and Derek’s future husband; this meeting was merely a formality, a chance for them to meet before the ceremony, but there was still time for things to go wrong. Derek wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the union – their kingdom needed the aid his marriage would bring, their people starving after two years of failed harvests – but his mind whirled with the myriad ways things could go wrong.
He and Laura both stood when the doors opened and two men entered the room. One man was older, his face worn but friendly – this was the king father, John; it was his son the king, Stiles, that Derek was to marry. The last time Derek saw Stiles was at Stiles’ coronation after the death of his mother; Stiles had been ten, Derek fourteen. Stiles was no longer the scrawny child whose head was barely large enough for his crown – now he was lean and broad-shouldered, and he held himself in an easy, confident way that Derek found himself envying. As he drew near, Derek could smell his alpha scent, rich and strong, and his breath came out of him in a quiet exhale that made Laura frown at him.
Derek felt his face warm as the king looked at him, his expression calculating, and not entirely friendly – but then he gave Derek a faint smile, one side of his mouth quirking up, and Derek’s face grew even warmer.
apparently my university has turned into an ABO au
Did the Alphas originally refuse to play because they might hurt the little delicate Omegas with their Big Alpha Muscles? Did the Omegas make passive-aggressive remarks about Fragile Alpha Egos until the Alphas cracked? Do the Omegas play dirty? Leaving scent trails and forming a complete first line of unclaimed Omega players? Do they wear the tiny little volleyball shorts for no reason in particular and keep needing to crane their necks to look at stuff really high up on the roof, seemingly only when an alpha is about to take a shot?? Do they completely annihilate the Alphas until they give up all semblance of old-world decency and start slamming the ball back? Do the Omegas who are ‘out’ decide to do some yoga on the sidelines because it’s super urgent? Do the alphas start getting into scuffles with each other, crazy with hormones? Does the referee have to be a beta for fairness reasons?
my favorite part of this is that the dodgeball and volleyball tournament is followed by an omega cookout. now tradition dictates that one would think that it might be the kind of thing where the omegas cook all this delicious stuff, but no.
basically the omegas hold court and alphas try their best to cook the most appealing and delicious dish and show up at the omega (frathouse?) and basically beg to be considered
Derek bit his lip, squirming in the passenger seat of Stiles’ jeep. He knew he had to ask him. In his head, the conversation had run perfectly with Derek communicating proper words and everything, but now that he was here, having to actually say those words…
“Out with it,” Stiles said, cutting the engine and turning bodily to face Derek. “I’ve known you since you were five. Don’t you think for one second I can’t read you like a book.”
Derek took a deep breath, nodding, because that was exactly why he was asking Stiles, wasn’t it? Because out of everyone he knew, Stiles was the only one Derek felt comfortable enough around to see himself letting go for. Presenting for. The thought alone was making him wet, and Derek rolled down the window, before his stupid omega pheremones could stink out the whole car.
“My…my first heat is coming up,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, like that would make the embarrassment of the whole thing go away. “And I was just wondering if you could maybe…help me before, you know, it happens.”
Every
full moon the pack gets together and plays an elaborate game of tag-
it’s Stiles’ favourite time of the month. The rules are simple: The omegas run,
and the alphas catch them. For the rest of the evening that alpha-omega pair
spends quality time together out in the woods getting to know each other, it’s
a way for the pack to bond and spend time with pack mates that they might not
know very well.
The
omegas get a five minute head start, and they always use their head start the
same way. Stiles laughs with the other omegas as they pause just outside of
hearing distance of the Hale house, and they begin to strip off most of their
own clothing and they quickly dress in each other’s discarded clothes to throw
off their alphas scents. Stiles leaves his jeans on- they’re too tight and
would slow him down too much, but he changes everything else. When his delicate
hearing catches the first crack of a branch in the distance he’s off running,
and only then does he inhale deeply to see whose scents he’s wearing.
Isaac’s
converse shoes, one of Danny’s socks, Kira’s blue t-shirt, and Mason’s grey
hoodie. Stiles grins to himself and takes a sharp left, he runs to the stream
on the northern side of the Hale property and begins to run upstream. His
favourite spot is the meadow at the Northwest corner of their territory- nobody
had ever caught him there, and he usually likes to spend half an hour just
laying amongst the flowers and grass before he decides that most of the other’s
are probably caught. Only then will he make his way back down, but this week is
different.
This
week Stiles has to push himself harder and go faster because there is
definitely the loud footsteps of a reckless alpha running after him. Stiles
growls to himself and steps out of the stream to swerve left, downwind, and
then he runs a big loop before getting himself back on his original path. He’s
curious about who is chasing him, but he has a reputation to uphold- and that
reputation is that he is almost always the last omega to be caught.
He
inhales deeply, and keeps a careful eye out, but there is no sign of whichever
alpha had been pursuing him, and Stiles grins to himself as he reaches the
meadow- another full moon well raced. The omega runs as fast as he can to the
middle of the field before throwing himself in the air and landing in a swift
shoulder roll as he collapses into the field. He only has half a moment to
relax into the familiar ground before he hears a deep chuckle- somehow the
alpha followed him. Stiles can feel his muscles tense, but before he has a
chance to run there is an alpha pouncing on him. They roll in a flurry of
glowing eyes, converse shoes, and a leather jacket. Finally Stiles is
straddling an exceptionally smug Derek Hale, who obviously let him with the brief
scuffle and he can’t help but be impressed. Derek always came off as a quiet
kind of aggressive. The alpha usually hung back until the others in the pack had
had their turn at something before he made any efforts towards the activity at
all, and so Stiles had never been able to properly judge the alpha’s abilities.
Apparently
Derek Hale was secretly more capable than any of the other alphas though, and
although Stiles wants his winning streak to continue, he can’t help but grin
down at the man. It’s about time for me to find an alpha who could keep up with
me anyways, Stiles reminds himself. They play fight in the meadow for awhile,
and eventually the duo begins to walk back down towards the house. Derek is a
good listener, and Stiles is thrilled to learn that the alpha spends a lot of his
time reading classic literature.
They
are both too caught up in each other to realize, and once the wind shifts it’s
too late. There is human, gun powder, and wolf’s bane in the wind. Hunters.
Stiles can feel his eyes flash as panic rises in his chest, and he looks up to
see that Derek’s eyes are glowing red too, but his gaze is towards the forest, as
he growls, “Run!”
“I
won’t leave you.” Stiles growls right back, and he flexes and extends his
fingers as his claws grow from his hands, but Derek snarls at him and says,
“Warn the pack, I’ll be right behind you.”
Stiles doesn’t want to run, but he
knows that omegas were built for speed, not strength, and he knows that Derek
won’t try to protect himself until Stiles is safe, and so with a whimper, he
obeys. Derek’s howl tears through the air, vibrating everything to the core,
and Stiles keeps running, but it doesn’t matter. There are more hunters than
they thought, and it doesn’t take long until Kate Argent has the barrel of a
gun pressed to his forehead.
shealwaysreads 