bakerstreet | THE IN HEAT/IN RUT AU MEME

THE IN HEAT/IN RUT AU MEME

THE IN HEAT/IN RUT AU MEME
not an alpha/beta/omega meme

There's no need for elaborate backstories for this AU. You go into heat, rut, whatever you'd like to call it. You've always done so since you were of age to do so. It's a socially accepted norm, and people have gotten used to the difficulties that come with the mating seasons. Life goes on.

Isn't this alpha/beta/omega, then? No, not at all. In this meme, there are no gender-variant genitalia unless your character comes prepackaged with those. No giant cocks - again, unless your character is already packing - or self-lubricating assholes or anal wombs, and no knotting. Unless that's your thing. There's also no set in stone roles with regards to dominance and submission, and some people do not even feel the inclination towards either. Still, there are a few similarities, mainly being that the pheromones of others can put someone into heat that was not in it before and the bond between mates. In addition, some humans/human-stand-ins have created packlike dynamics in response, but this is not universal.

In this meme, it's just regular old human...oids feeling the urge for sex. And by "urge," we of course mean all-consuming drive. If characters choose to ignore that urge, it will backfire on them. The more they put it off, the more they will lose their control, becoming more irritable and aggressive, and eventually be nothing but a rutting animal until the need to mate is satisfied. Not all heats call for mating, of course, and most people can just relieve themselves, but when you do mate, you feel the urge to stay by their side and essentially "nest." These desires don't always pan out into offspring, and mating isn't forever unless it's mutually decided upon. However, impregnating your mate is said to be one of the most euphoric experiences a person can have, even if some people only mate because they want to utterly possess someone, as mates are bonded for a while.

If there's anything that's to your fancy that's been left out, go ahead and add it in. Play it how you'd like!

HOW TO PLAY

Comment with your character and preferences.

Include what you're interested and not interested in.

Respond to others!

PROMPTS

first heat: Baby's first heat. YOU'RE A TEENAGER/LATE BLOOMER AND WHAT IS THIS?

old hand: You've done this a million times, but it never gets any easier.

happen to be here: You're not picky. You can't afford to be. You'll take anybody who's nearby.

old faithful: You're going to the person you always go to in order to relieve your problem.

worked something out: The two of you aren't involved. You just help each other out.

unexpected: You never expected to rut with this person, but here you are.

forbidden: AKA the obligatory incest or age difference option.

volunteer: You've offered yourself up out of the kindness of your heart.

tribute: This isn't your offer. You're the offer from others, a gift for someone powerful to sate their appetite.

mating: You've decided to go one step further and make your relationship deeper.

nesting: Aaah, (temporary) domestic bliss. And lots of fucking. Lots and lots of fucking. Like, you'll barely be able to stand.

bonding: The bond, which is mildly psychic and intensely physical, makes sex even more intense.

the natural conclusion: Heat calls for pregnancy. Get someone pregnant.

already pregnant: Unfortunately, being knocked up doesn't abate your partner's desires. Or yours.

mates for life: Now you're absolutely certain that you want to be with no one else. Of course, this means you'll be in synch with their heat for the rest of forever.

save you: You've been saved from the advances of an undesired mate by someone who may be much more suited. Show your gratitude?

cockfight: Two people want the same mate. That won't do. There are ways to figure that out, not always involving fists.

increase in dominance: Exactly what it says.

increase in submission: Again, exactly what it says.

unexpected dominance: No one expects you to ever be dominant. Prove them wrong.

protect: You want to protect your mate from others, and that means putting your scent all over them.

set off by someone else: You were doing fine until you got a whiff of someone else's pheromones.

resisting temptation: Your heart belongs to someone. You want to stay out of this "heat" thing. You want to rise above it. Whatever it may be, you just have to not take the bait. Easier said than done.

all worked up: You're beginning to lose control and yourself. Quick, do something before you're jumping anything that moves.

pack: As mentioned prior, some people, especially those far out from civilization proper, have formed packs that hold to the more traditional alpha structure. Of course, these packs come with their own rules when it comes to heat and mating.

suitable partner: The desire for certain mates can come from a subconscious level, and you can find yourself aroused by someone showing how strong they are (they can protect you), how curvaceous they look (that must mean they're fertile), or any other number of traits that can benefit you.

desperation: You'll take anyone! Anything!

final release: You've reached your breaking point and your mindless. At least you'll get relief.

fighter: Part of your process is seeing who's worthy of you by testing their mettle. That, or you want to fight anything.

off your meds: It's fairly rare, but some can get blockers for their heat. What if those blockers run out? Why, it makes your heat ten times worse!

noncon: They don't want this. You don't want to stop this.

dubcon: You say no, but your body says yes and you can't stop loving it.

calm you down: Whether it's to fuck or to fight, you're going mad, and they have to bring you back down to Earth.

territorial: How dare someone look at what belongs to you? You'll have to make things right.

odd man out: For some reason, you don't go into heat. Never have. Being with you is pretty relaxing, and some find it appealing to not have to deal with pheromones that aren't theirs. You do have to learn how to appreciate their problems, though.

WILDCARD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

{No pregnancy related prompts, please.}

[ “That time of the month” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

For the past week, Malia has been increasingly restless and unpredictable. One classmate who’d spotted her steadily rubbing her hands up her arms and shoulders, and over her thighs was sure he’d heard her growl when she’d flashed him a piercing glare and snapped at him to mind his own business.

She tried to jump Stiles at the lunch table within the first few days, wrestling her tongue down his throat and straddling him on the bench until he and Kira more or less pried her with a crowbar and Stiles gave her the talk about situational context and public displays of affection.

It’s not quite her first time in heat, exactly. It usually happens once a year for coyotes, and that’s been the past three years for Malia. Unfortunately, it’s a lot more normal for a coyote to be rolling around in brush to try and get the burning itch out of their skin than for the teenage girl laying down on the grass in front of the school to be anything but weird. Dealing with it as a human is, well, more of an adjustment than the regular human stuff.

Needless to say, it’s a bad time for Cora to come back to check in on Derek's "condition." Malia finds them outside of the school talking by Stiles’ jeep. Her fangs are already itching her gums as she approaches, and when she reaches them, she grabs Cora by the upper arms and throws her down onto the hood of the car parked beside Stiles’. Her back slams into the metal with such force that it dents the hood and sets off the car alarm.

There’s really nothing that can be done about the ensuing scuffle as claws and fangs come out and they roll onto the asphalt, Cora defending herself in the only way Cora knows how—by attacking back—and Malia trying to take a piece out of her for the imagined slight of trying to steal her mate. ]

[There'd been suspicions as to what it was that was causing Malia to be more on edge lately, mostly suspicions caused by her tendency to want to have her hands all over a certain teenage boy and her reaction to being told it was a no no. Kira had muttered something about her acting like she was in heat and Stiles had, as Stiles was wont to do, gone and researched the whole thing. Right. Okay. So coyotes went into heat. Did werecoyotes? It wasn't like he had an abundance of female weres to go ask about it and he knew Scott would be just as clueless as him, so he thought he'd wait it out. See if there was evidence one way or the other that he could work with.

Then Cora had come along and he'd felt a sense of relief. Not only was she another born were, like Malia, she was her cousin and female and that made her the perfect person to ask. Now, if he could manage to bring the topic up without her punching him in the face for it...

The subject in question had just been breached when there was a sudden flurry of growling and snarling and--]

Malia! What the-- What are you doing? Get off her! Cora, Cora! Don't hurt her.

[Right, because of course Cora would be the one to leave a mark. Only not, as Stiles watched red lines bloom over Cora's arm, claw marks that were slashed into her by a pissed off Malia.]

Guys. Guys! We're in public! Do I have to go get Scott?

[ Cora gets the leg up for a moment, pinning Malia, then whips her head back to growl at Stiles for trying to tell her that she can’t hurt the psychotic werecoyote who attacked her first. That’s when Malia gets a real hit in, nails digging into Cora’s arms as she throws her off.

Springing onto her feet, she gets between Cora and Stiles—her goal isn’t to hurt the she-wolf, not really. She just wants Cora the hell away from what belongs to her. The growl that rumbles out of her throat curls her lips, showing off her fangs as she holds her claws out at her sides, shoulders hunched forward.

Cora also scrambles to her feet, ready to jump back at her until Stiles is threatening to call Scott and isn’t that a cheap shot. An invisible force seems to rebuff her with the way she jerks back in self-restraint. Malia steps forward and snarls, a reverberating noise that sets off a few more car alarms in the parking lot. Satisfied that the wolf is no longer a problem, she straightens and turns away, claws and fangs retracting steadily.

That’s when Cora runs for her, grabbing Malia by the hair and slamming her head into the front of the neighboring car’s fender. Malia staggers back and Cora looks at Stiles flipping hair out of her face with a scowl. You needed to ask me to be sure? That kind of aggression can only be one thing. It seems pretty self-evident from where the younger Hale sibling is standing.

Incredulity aside, she shakes her head, straightening as Malia gets her bearings. If you can’t keep her from lashing out when someone breaths too close to you, she needs to be locked up until it’s over. Learning control takes time. This isn’t some afternoon-fix. Cora may not have the best luck with her temper, but her control over her abilities is far beyond Malia’s, so when the coyote tries to grab her and send her skittering across the asphalt, they wind up tumbling again. With a fair amount of struggle, Cora wrestles her way on top and pins Malia to finish exposition hour. She’s been giving into these instincts for eight years. What are you expecting out of her?

#TeamMalia basically. Sry Stiles, family first. ]

[Stiles is just watching with a mix of dread and incredulity. There are voices starting to come over and he's about five seconds away from having a panic attack. They've both got their laser eyes on and claws are out along with teeth and if anyone finds them-- shit. Shit, shit, shit.

What would Scott do? God, he needed that on a bracelet right about now. Scott would... roar. Big ol' alpha roar and they'd cower in fear and listen like good little pups. Stiles could squeak and that wasn't going to cut it. He needed to be more of an actual deterrent to this cat fight. Dog fight? Were-fight. Yes. Okay. So... how could he do that?

The only way he knew how; the way that everyone warned you not to stop a girl fight. He went over and actually tried to start wedging himself between them.]

Guys, I'm serious. Stop it. People are coming and you're all wolfed and coyoted out and no. This is bad. Please, just stop.

[P.S., he might have texted Scott to get his furry ass over here.]

[ Cora raises her hands as Stiles gets in between the wrestling match, rising to her feet and stepping off. She has the self-control to rein it in when she has enough room to take a breather. Malia looks ready to go after her, but she stops when Stiles puts himself between them, settling into a growl that lasts only a moment longer.

At the end of the day, she’s not going to chance hurting him just to get at Cora. On any other day, she’d probably even feel guilty for going at Cora and realize why it was wrong and berate herself for not remembering that the human world isn’t as cut-throat as animal world. She swats Stiles away, but her claws are gone when she does. The blue light lingers in her eyes as she paces away, shaking it off like a boxer who still wants to go a few more rounds after the match is over.

Scott, Kira, and Lydia appear at the edge of the parking lot as Cora drags the back of her hand over her mouth. She drops it to her side and straightens her back because she can feel the rest of the pack approaching. She still has her pride.

I’m telling you, She warns Stiles with some finality. The best thing you can do for her right now is lock her up. Her gaze drifts to Scott as she finishes speaking, and he looks a little helplessly to Stiles.

Easier said than done when Malia’s not at all interested. She finally seems to have anchored herself into humanity well enough to muster verbal replies, at least. Ås she finally speaks, she pushes straightened, sweat-frayed hair out of her face with the heel of her palm. ]

Don’t bother. I’m going home.

[ At … lunch. What are rules. ]

I'll drive you.

[It pops out before he can think about it. It was clear that she couldn't be around other people at the moment and if his suspicions were correct -- and he was pretty sure they were by now, this could happen again during the day. Maybe with Lydia. Or some hapless and oblivious girl who got too close or, god forbid, touched him.

There was a prick of... something. Something that had him realizing he needed to go over how that made him feel, but later. Later when there wasn't a bunch of nosy teenagers coming over and Scott wasn't looking at him like this was both his fault and like he felt sorry for him.

He'd make up an excuse for it later. He'd get Deaton to back him up, or hell, his dad. He was sure his father would be willing to write him a note for the pair of them if it kept people from getting mauled.

Going over to the passenger side of the jeep, he opened it and held it for Malia, giving her a look like 'get in the goddamn car'.]

[ While she looks incredibly sour about the nonverbal demand, she simply climbs into the car moodily without arguing about it. She catches Scott’s gaze when she looks out the window, arms folded across her chest, and she slumps in her seat some, feeling wholly scolded just by one look. There’s the guilt catching up.

She hates that feeling.

No matter how hard she tries, she still slips up, and right now she can hardly clear her head to think and breathe let alone control her impulses. Her hand brushes against her mouth and she looks away from the window, watching Stiles move around to the driver’s side. Once he’s in the car, she jumps to get the first word in. ]

You’re gonna miss class. [ She doesn’t have anything to say to defend herself because she knows, can see in their eyes, that she did something wrong again—even if she doesn't understand what that was exactly, so instead she’ll turn it on him taking her home. ]

Wouldn't be the first time. Not even for were-related things.

[He started the jeep and put it in reverse, backing out of his spot and slipping it back into first before heading for the end of the parking lot.]

So, home? Or do you need to go for a run or something. I'm not really sure how, ah... how you need to vent this.

['This' implying that he knew what she was going through when he barely understood the basics. A heat. Well, good to know. He doubted chocolate would do the trick, so that left... what? Exercise.]

I don’t need to run.

[ The implication is heavy in her voice of what she does need to do. She squirms in her seat, rubbing her back up against the material of his seat and twisting in an attempt to dispel the tension winding in her. She leans into the window, watching the school pass. ]

I’ll handle it.

[ The punctuate her intentions, she pops open the buttons on her shirt, sliding down in the seat and moving her hand over her chest, into the cup of her bra. Her heated gaze turns on him and she shrugs one shoulder. ]

Just keep driving.

[Sure. Right. Keep driving while she was feeling herself up beside him. There might have been a small swerve of the wheel, his eyes needing to be ripped away and put back on the road. Unfair.]

Could you... not do that while I'm driving? Please?

Would you rather I tear your throat out while you’re driving? Because I’m not feeling a lot of options here.

[ Her thighs squeeze together and she shuts her eyes, driving her head back against the seat. The groan that follows is strangled and frustrated. Her back arches, and she shifts her hips to wiggle the seam of her jeans into just the right place to offer some satisfactory friction. Impulses have pretty much been reduced to kill something or fuck it, and she's not particularly picky which—admittedly, she's all bark without bite about actually hurting Stiles. ]

You would do that? To me? I'm incredibly offended right now.

[And getting turned on by watching her all but grind in the seat, hands gripping the wheel tight as he remembers to watch the road. Watch the road.]

So, ah, so where am I driving to again?

[Focus, Stiles. Stop thinking about the horny werecoyote in heat beside you and focus on getting her... somewhere.]

Somewhere we can pull over, where your dad’s not gonna haul you out of the car when your pants are around your ankles.

[ Is it the Sheriff’s job to bust truant kids having sex in a car? Malia’s going to assume so. Who else would do it? She wrestles off her jacket, throwing it into the backseat, and starts kicking off her ankle boots as well. Stiles might have to drive, but she’s totally free to get this show on the road with or without him. ]

[Another swerve as it hits him. Shit. Shit, she wants to... in the jeep. Right now. With him. Hrmf.]

Clothes on, Malia. I have to drive and that means watching the road and not you. Just...

Give me twenty minutes.

[He could head up to the preserve. It should be empty around now, right? God, he hoped so.]

I’m already struggling with my own lack of control: I have to take responsibility for yours too?

[ If she sounds incredulous, it’s because she is. That doesn’t make any sense!! Bah on his human rules. The shoes get dumped into the floor space behind the driver’s seat before she finally shoots him another look, assessing the jump in his pulse, the way his knuckles are turning white from how tightly he’s gripping the wheel, the twitch just below his eye as he tries to keep himself from glancing back over.

As far as she’s concerned, it’s a good look for him. Her shrug is an act of compromise, thoroughly undermined by the loophole she finds by sliding her hands over the tanned skin of her inner thighs, exposed without any further stripping whatsoever. ]

[Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch. But even as he thought it, he didn't mean it. He just... wanted. Wanted things he wasn't really sure he had a right to, but he wanted them anyway. Wanted to know she wanted him even though he had no idea why.

He felt his dick twitch, responding to the sight out of the corner of his eye of her hands moving over herself, nostrils flaring as he took in a bracing breath.]

Yes, Malia. When I'm driving and trying to keep us from crashing into a ditch because I'm thinking with the wrong brain, you have to be responsible for not... just... touching. Stuff.

[ Some part of how he couches that gets through to her, because against all odds, her hands still on her upper thighs. Her breath shakes as she releases it, teeth grinding, and she turns her head to stare out the window.

Maybe it’s the fact thAT SHE GOT HER FAMILY INTO A CAR ACCIDENT WHEN SHE LOST CONTROL AND KILLED THEM. Nah. Definitely not.

Unfortunately, there’s really no such thing as a mood killer in the face of heat, and Malia’s just left battling her own frustrations with the strength of her guilt and rationality. Her hands curl around the edges of the seat, and she arches her hips up off of it to try and maintain her cool. ]

You’re the one who wants to drive another twenty minutes!

Malia, if there was anywhere even half hidden around here, I'd pull over and...

[And what? Ravage her? Please. It'd be the other way around. But he was kind of okay with that because she was this bundle of heat and nerves that he always felt like he was juggling just to make sure he didn't drop.]

Unless you want to go to my house, we have to drive twenty minutes to the preserve.

Sure. Your house.

[ That pretty much decides it. Fuck the preserve at this point. If he doesn’t find somewhere to pull over soon, she’s not gonna keep waiting for him to do it, and then the Sheriff will definitely be hauling them out of the car with their pants down. After a car accident. ]

I wanna go to your house.

My house.

[It had been a joke. A half-assed suggestion. But... they were about three minutes away from it and he turned the wheel at the turn coming up, going fast enough that there was a faint screeching sound.]

Okay. Okay. Dad's out. He's working. My house will work. Just... hold on.

[ Her foot starts an incessant tapping on the floor of the jeep when he nearly rolls it in the process of making that turn. She looks ready to crawl onto the roof of the car, but she’s at least taking a break from ripping her clothes off. Trying to sate the immutable desire for friction, on the other hand, is less easy to take a break from.

Drawing her hands away from the seat, she smooths them over the top of her legs, then lets one hand slide back up her inner thigh to press over the seam of her shorts, savoring the warmth of the gentle rub. Another, throaty groan comes out and she pushes her other hand up into her hair, turning her head to direct her struggle out the window because Stiles told her to cool it and it’s not her fault she can’t. ]

[Yeah, he can still see that and the three minutes driving to his place are the longest three minutes he's ever had to endure in his life -- including the last three minutes of the last day of school before summer.

But somehow, somehow he makes it back to his house, pulling into the driveway and braking hard, killing the engine and looking over at her like she's supposed to know what to do next. Wait, wasn't that his job? Right. ]

Come on. Let's, ah, let's go inside.

[Right. Before he reached over and just--

Nope. No groping in public.]

[ Malia doesn’t have that filter yet. She never bothered with a seatbelt, so she just surges across the center console to pin him against the door, capturing his mouth in a heated kiss and cornering him in the driver’s seat.

Forsaking their desperate quest to map her own skin, her hands move to seek out her mate. Emphasis hers. One hand pulls just a little too tight on his hair while the other tries to aggressively divest him of his undershirt without ever pushing his overshirt off his shoulders by ripping straight down the neckline.

Inside seems like a lot of work when the car's already parked. ]

[They should be going inside. They should be-- fuck. Okay, brain go bye bye. He was pressed up against the driver's side door, hands trying to both contain and touch the wild ball of hormones in his lap.]

Mali-- ah...

[That was his hair, but it didn't hurt in a way that would make him stop, only in that he-- hey. That was his shirt. He'd liked that one. All nice and white and clean. Not anymore.]

Inside. Don't want anyone to see you.

[Meaning 'he didn't want anyone seeing her naked and what he was about to do to her. That and...]

Condoms. Inside the house. Room. My room.

Stiles Stilinski | Teen Wolf | OTA

casually picks from 1 & 34 and maybe eventually 10?

Bring it on.

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