He would’ve made a joke about that, about letting Derek in, but Derek was a werewolf, not a vampire, and he could probably show up uninvited whenever and wherever he damn well pleased. Which, after that, he did. And Stiles couldn’t bring himself to mind very much.

Stiles has come to the realization that he’s going to need to tell the pack that he’s transgender before they find out on their own. He’s only ever told one person before, and he’s still thankful Scott was a true best friend. He only hopes the others take his news as well.

Stiles hangs out with werewolves. Stiles dresses up as Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween. It's supposed to be ironic.

Steve has fantasies about Tony being an omega, very sexy fantasies...

Erica and Stiles are convinced that they're going to go down in history as the first-ever omegas at Beacon Hills High School to go unclaimed. But they also, deep down, have an alpha that they're hoping will come to them when they go into heat. Both of these ideas about instinctive mating are pretty much entirely wrong.

The pack assumes, but StilesandDerek break expectations in their own way. It works for them.

The second time Derek and Stiles meet is in a gay bar. A wizarding gay bar. It's very sparkly. Series

He keeps the aqun-asala powder in a jar on his dressing table. Every three months he spoons some of it into a mug and mixes it into the water with his finger. It's supposed to be tasteless, but when he swallows it down it lingers on his tongue, affects the taste of anything else he eats for the next couple days, mutes everything. He gets a kick outta eating spicy shit all lackadaisically and offering it to people, and acting surprised when it burns their mouths. (When he explains it to Sera, after she's stopped crying and threatening to stab him with one of his own horns, she thinks it's hilarious — tries to talk him into letting her have enough to prank people, actually. He knows exactly how much is left in the jar though, and he's not sure he's ever gonna get more... so she has to make do with sitting next to him and watching.) "So it keeps you from losing it, huh?" she asks, glaring down into her empty flagon like she doesn't know where the beer got off to. "No squishy pffff—" she puffs up her cheeks and sets the flagon down, curving her hands into a circle and then moving them apart, "—for the qunari pokers?"

His arm wasn't the only thing the Galra changed. They also gave him certain... needs. Shiro learns to make it work for him.

Short fics originally posted to my Tumblr, edited and collected here.

Yuuri, under the username of Eros, is a size queen omega who most certainly does not have an obsession with fellow camboy and legendary silver-haired alpha Aria. Just like Phichit is not the most meddlesome roommate known to man.

No one would help him get to the bottom of Kerberos, and it had all reached a breaking point when Iverson threatened to terminate Keith’s scholarship if he kept snooping. So Keith got what he came for, the little black book no one was ever meant to find, and stopped snooping. Because now, he’ll have someone else to do all the snooping for him. The situation isn’t ideal, Keith thinks as he slits his palm open and methodically draws the pentagram on the floor, placing the necessary items one by one into each point of the star. But considering the circumstances, he thinks he’s done alright for himself. More importantly, for Shiro.

Geralt is not making a nest. Jaskier has noticed this. Geralt is in fact drinking a rather foul-smelling potion that sours the sweetness of his scent and muffles its otherwise obvious meaning. “Does that stop heat?” Jaskier asks curiously, absentmindedly tuning his lute as he speaks. He hadn’t thought anything could, but, well . . . witchers and their potions. “No,” Geralt says darkly.

Lan Sizhui's baby has three possible fathers~!

Despite being one of the strongest omegas alive, Nie Huaisang has never desired recognition. He would have been happy to spend his life pretending to be a nobody so he could stay at his brother’s side in Qinghe. But when Wen Ruohan attempts to take control of the other sects during the Wen Discussion Conference, Nie Huaisang must do what he can to mitigate what he fears may soon become outright war. Even if it means publically claiming his former classmate Jiang Cheng.

Hanguang-jun, it seems that you’ve caught me.” “Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji murmurs, the corner of his lips twitching slightly up. “You let me catch you.” * It is autumn in the mating grounds of Phoenix Mountain.

Wilson and Latta and an omega in heat.

Kissing and dentata.

Landy is shaking his head next to him as he applies the scent blocker to his own upper lip. "I thought you guys were friends -- you've never smelled his heat pheromones before?" "What? I was friends with who?" Landy smacks Nate upside the head. "Crosby," he says, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. Nate looks back out at the ice, where Sid is taking a faceoff, a bead of sweat dripping down his face. "Holy shit," he mutters.

Geno is too injured to go to the 2017 All-Star Game, which would be bad enough if that wasn't also the weekend of Sidney's scheduled heat. Luckily, Alex Ovechkin is more than willing to help Sid through it.

Taylor loves it, everyone watching while he fucks himself on Adam’s dick and Adam’s hands are tight on his hips while he tells Taylor how good he looks, how everyone wants to be where Adam is. He loved it back in juniors and it’s even better now.

Jake does a pretty good job ignoring his stupid fucking thing for his rookie until one pregame he sits down in his stall to lace up and his eyes land on the whiteboard on the opposite side of the room where the month’s heats and ruts are scheduled; zero in on Joel’s name next to a scribbled 1/27 - 1/29.

It’s okay to be a wolf in the NHL now. That’s what everyone tells Dylan, anyway. To Podfic: "I Love the Riddles That You Speak" & "Race Like Falcons to Crash and Burn"

“He’s traumatized from being brainwashed and imprisoned and can’t submit to an alpha with combat training without either having a panic attack or straight up trying to kill them,” Sam says bluntly. “He’s detoxing off illegal suppressants before we can put him on new ones. Dr. Cho was going to cycle off hers for him, but he burned through faster than we expected.” “So . . . he’s in heat, and there’s nobody around he doesn’t see as a threat?” Darcy summarizes, frowning. “Long story short, yes,” Sam confirms. “. . . and long story long?” Darcy asks skeptically, genuinely unable to help herself. He tells them. “Jesus Christ!”