
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8056444.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Stiles_Stilinski/Jackson_Whittemore, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Jackson_Whittemore, Scott_McCall, Derek_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Omega_Verse, Omega_Stiles_Stilinski,
      Alpha_Jackson_Whittemore, Alpha_Derek, Werewolf_Derek_Hale, Dubious
      Consent, Humiliation, Public_Sex, Blow_Jobs, Dubiously_Consensual_Blow
      Jobs, Spit_As_Lube, Self-Lubrication, Mating_Bites, Werewolf_Stiles
      Stilinski, Werewolf_Mates, Mpreg, Forest_Sex, Breeding, Werewolf_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-17 Completed: 2016-11-03 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 4046
****** Debasement and Domination ******
by PapuruKakugan
Summary
     Stiles always lets Jackson use him, humiliate him, and hurt him. He's
     debased and objectified, utterly ruined to Jackson's amusement.
     But when he comes home and Derek smells the lingering scent of
     another Alpha he goes wild. A tender and careful lover that Stiles is
     so in love with goes positively feral in an attempt to overwrite the
     scent on Stiles' skin.
     Derek never hurts him, but wrecks him.
     -----
     Tagged as Non-Con for Jackson/Stiles because while Stiles doesn't say
     no or fight, he doesn't actually consent either.
Notes
     For nephilim667 who asked for Sterek and Jackson in another fic, but
     couldn't be feasibly fit into the plot. I hope you like this! XD
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Debasement *****
He’s trapped in here. Caged in by tanned arms slick with sweat from practice.
He’d been told to stay behind, to wait. He didn’t want to. But he did. He
waited until the rest of the lacrosse team had showered, changed and left him
alone. Scott had given him curious looks as he stalled; fidgeting with his
shirt, picking at imaginary stains; chipping the caked on mud off his cleats;
checking the netting of his lacrosse stick; performing elaborate warm down
stretches even though the only muscles he used were the ones in his ass from
benchwarming.
Now different muscles in his ass are going to be used. Stretched. Filled.
Fucked raw.
Jackson has his arms pinned by his sides, their hips flush as a tongue licks
the sweat off Stiles’ neck. He’d come into the changing room late off the
pitch, killing time and pitching balls expertly to an unmanned goal. He’d
waited until all their teammates had left, smirking as he watches McCall’s head
disappear around the corner. ‘Wish you could watch what I’m about to do to your
best friend.’
“You’re so ripe Omega.” Jackson’s voice whispers against his skin, sending
shivers down his spine. He moans as his neck is licked, nipped and sucked on.
His arousal tenting in his jockstrap, confined and ignored by the Alpha.
He’s spun around and planted face down on the bench, ass in the air, limbs
hanging on either side. Jackson sits behind him parting his cheeks to view his
tight hole. The Alpha growls and presses a thumb over the opening making Stiles
grunt and jolt forward. He’s not wet, he never gets wet for Jackson.
A glob of spit lands on his hole and a finger roughly enters him. Stiles closes
his eyes and whines at the burn, bites his lip as another finger joins in. “So
fucking tight for me.” Jackson mutters as he scissors the nearly unlubed hole,
pulling and tugging on the red rim. Stiles is breathless and digging his nails
into the wood of the bench, making more crescent marks to join the ones already
there.
With another application of spit to his hole Jackson deems him ready and lines
up his dripping cock, smearing precum around the rim and slowly popping the
head in and out. Stiles’ lungs feel tight, there’s just enough pain for it not
to be pleasurable and cause his erection to die. But he doesn’t fight back. He
never has.
Jackson finally pushes his fat length deeper, carving a space for himself until
he’s fully sheathed and gripping bony hips for leverage. With a snarl he pulls
out slowly and thrusts in quickly making Stiles cry out. Jackson grins and
licks his teeth as the tight heat clings around him, he changes the angle to
find the sweet spot he then proceeds to abuse. “Sing for me Omega.” Stiles
does. He whines, groans and moans as his ass is pounded without mercy, his
prostate hammered with unending force, Jackson's fingers digging red marks on
his sides.
Stiles’ feet are kicked out from under him so his chest his flush with the
bench, Jackson sliding him over it like a ragdoll as he whispers filthy things
to the stale air around them. “Gonna be a wreck when I’m finished.” “You were
made for this.” “Drown you in cum like the whore you are.” “Good little
fucktoy.” The comments are accompanied by light alternating smacks to his
cheeks, his hole tightening each time making Jackson laugh and hit him harder.
His cock is being rubbed raw on the bench underneath him. It’s fattened up
again from the stimulation of his prostate, precum sticking inside his
jockstrap. Stiles doesn’t know what to feel as Jackson yanks on the straps
crossed over his cheeks, pulling his trapped cock tighter against his stomach;
there’s so much pain and pleasure.
Jackson’s pounding gets faster as he grunts, his knot swelling inside Stiles’
abused hole, tugging on the rim going out before being pushed back in again.
Just before the point of no return Jackson wrenches his fully inflated knot out
of Stiles and cums over the gaping hole, over his back and is stilling coming
in hot spurts as he manhandles Stiles onto his knees. The knotted cock is
stuffed down his throat, salty streams of cum pouring down his throat causing
him to swallow in reflex.
Jackson forces the knot against Stiles’ lips, “Suck bitch, suck down my cum-
Don’t fucking look at me!” The chastisement is coupled with a harsh thrust that
makes him gag, his lips flutter against the swollen knot. Fingers interlace
behind his head and keep his mouth tight against Jackson’s spurting cock and
pulsing knot. He can barely breathe but he doesn’t fight. He never does.
After 10 minutes of keeping Jackson’s cock warm while he grinds his knot on
Stiles’ lips, he pulls back and lets the tiny dribbles of cum smear all over
Stiles’ face. Jackson lifts a leg and drags his cleat over Stiles’ half-hard
cock, giving a humoured huff when Stiles whines in discomfort.
Jackson’s cock is going limp so he runs a circled hand from base to tip,
catching all the fluid before rubbing the mix of drool and cum over Stiles’
head. Jackson sighs and cracks his neck, pushes Stiles away with a hand to his
face and turns to shower and change.
Stiles follows, stripping off his sticky jockstrap and trying to stay upright
on wobbly legs. Jackson jeers as Stiles washes his still gaping ass, “Red looks
good on you Stilinski, white does too.” “Bet you can see all the way to Mexico
down that hole.” “Should let the entire team tag in next time, maybe let McCall
knot your mouth, God knows it’s the only way to keep you quiet.” “I wonder if
you spend chemistry hanging of Harris’ knot he’d give you a passing grade.”
There’s a wall of heat behind Stiles as Jackson pushes his body against him,
pressing him into the cold tile as a thumb hooks into his opening. “After the
game on Monday I’m going to knot your ass, then your mouth. Choke you on my
cock and make you beg for it. Nothing more than a warm hole aren't you Omega?”
Stiles’ back is cold once more as Jackson leaves the showers to dress and
leave. He spends 5 more minutes rewashing his clean body methodically before
quickly drying and re-emerging into the main changing area. Jackson is long
gone.
He relaxes minutely and continues dressing before flicking off the lights and
heading for his jeep. It’s Friday so the student’s carpark is deserted as he
unlocks and climbs in, wincing at the burn of his ass on the seat. He turns out
of the lot and heads home thinking about his dinner-for-one as dad is on duty
tonight. He doesn’t pay attention to the turns or even remembers waiting at
stop lights but he startles when headlights are right on his tail. He frowns
and wonders who it is. Red eyes flash in the rearview mirror and his heart
picks up.
The car disappears before he turns into the Stilinski driveway, swallowing as
he makes his way inside. The second car doesn’t appear but it’s driver is
already waiting in his room, red eyes, fangs, claws and a feral look in his
eyes. Derek.
***** Chapter 2 *****
It doesn’t hurt when Derek slams him up against the wall, hand wrapped around
his throat, claws pricking the delicate flesh. He goes limp when a thumb pushes
at his jaw and exposes his pale neck; sharp fangs immediately scraping the
skin, hot tongue lathing over his pulse, growling breaths puffed out over his
collarbone.
The pressure around his neck increases for a moment before the Alpha takes a
step back and starts to undress. Stiles swallows dryly and peels off his own
clothes. He knows what will happen if he doesn’t obey.
He’s barely gotten the last of his clothes off when a clawed hand curls around
the back of his neck and drags him over to the bed, forced face down with his
ass in the air. The hand around his neck is removed but he doesn’t dare move.
Claws are raked down his back, thin red lines almost drawing blood as the
Alpha’s tongue follows them down to the swell of his ass. The flesh is grabbed
roughly and parted as Derek inhales deeply before letting out a vicious snarl.
Stiles suddenly feels true fear. Derek has only ever made that sound before
something he’d been fighting has it’s spine torn out. He whimpers and tries to
bare his neck but the Alpha above him snarls again and digs his claws into his
ass cheeks. Stiles doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even twitch, he just pants
shallowly into his bedding as he waits for the Alpha’s next move.
He feels cold as Derek continues to snuffle his skin, letting out low snarls
when he finds an invading Alpha’s scent on the Omega’s flesh. He works his way
up the pale body, gripping firm but gently, kneading and petting goosefleshed
skin, licking enthusiastically at all the places where Stiles sweats; the backs
of his knees, the top of his ass, the crease of his groin, his underarms,
collarbones and behind his ear.
Stiles moans as a sudden gush of slick leaks from his hole. He barely registers
the wet dribble down his thighs before Derek slides his cock through the mess,
pinning him down further into the bed as he ruts viciously against Stiles’ ass.
Derek’s foreskin tickles against his fluttering rim as the Alpha sinks his
fangs shallowly into the Omega’s shoulder blade and cums over him. Derek’s
release is massaged into the skin like lotion as he huffs in the fresh scent of
his claim. Hisclaim, not Jackson’s.
The snarls are quieter now, but more frequent as Derek rubs his body and hands
over Stiles’ skin; immersing the Omega in his claiming scent. Stiles just wants
Derek to do it, to finally give him what he can’t ask for. What he’s too afraid
to ask for, lest it be rejected.
Stiles whines and buries his face into his pillow, arousal dimming. Derek
pauses and makes a questioning noise, Stiles doesn’t answer. Derek makes the
noise again in the silence but when he still gets no response he pushes Stiles’
hips flush with the bed and covers his body with his own like a warm blanket.
Derek nuzzles into Stiles’ neck, licking and nipping the skin to soothe the
Omega. He’s too far gone into his instincts to form words but desperately tries
to ask what’s wrong.
Stiles still doesn’t respond. He can’t explain his actions, doesn’t want to. He
doesn’t want to admit that he lets Jackson use him as a warm hole because he
knows Derek will loose all inhibitions and take him, rather than make tender
love like he usually does. Don’t get him wrong, Stiles loves Derek’s gentle
ministrations; the slow rock that crests to a mind numbing peak; the deep
kisses that make him want to climb inside the Alpha’s skin; the strong arms
that hold him close as they grind and moan softly; he loves it all, wouldn’t
give it up for anything. But every once in awhile he wants those strong arms to
hold him down; possessive and biting kisses; hard thrusts that make him
breathless; he wants to be fucked.
Stiles also never wants to admit that he wants Derek to truly claim him, to
leave his mark for the world to see. So that everyone knows they belong
together, that they are one, that they chose each other. He’s too afraid that
Derek will run away somehow if he makes that desire known, that Derek will
convince himself he doesn’t deserve anything good in his life. Stiles knows
that a mating bite from an Alpha werewolf will turn him, but he doesn’t care
anymore. He’s never had a desire to be a part of the supernatural community
more than he already is, but the idea of being Derek’s mate, as a wolf, and
cementing himself as the pack ‘mom’ more than he already is… it’s something a
lot like contentment. He knows he’d never be forced to be a homemaker with
Derek, that he can fight at his Alpha’s side as equals, be seen as his own
person and not an Alpha’s accessory.
Stiles realises it’s pretty shitty of him for acting this way, to try to force
Derek’s instincts to come to the fore and claim him, to put Derek in that
position, but he can’t get the courage for anything otherwise. He can’t lose
what they already have, he can’t lose Derek. This is the only way he knows how
to fight for it without scaring off who’s he’s fighting for.
He turns to face Derek when the Alpha whines despondently. There are tears
burning in his eyes as the Alpha looks over him, a frown marring those handsome
features; Stiles doesn’t like it. He forces himself to smile and blinks away
the tears, nuzzling softly into Derek and rocking back into the still hard
length pressed against his lower back.
The Alpha rocks slowly with him, still careful of the upset Omega, cooing
softly. But soon he’s shifting down to run his throbbing cock between Stiles’
cheeks, the head catching on the rim and sliding in when Stiles bucks back with
a groan. Derek feels his lust boil in his veins as he sinks deep into the
Omega, his Omega. Oh, how desperately he wishes that were true. He wants
nothing more than to be the only scent rubbed into Stiles’ skin, to overpower
everything else that’s dared touch him.
His annoyance comes back to the fore as he remembers the horrifying scent of
another Alpha all over Stiles, the deep possessive claim he’s never dared act
upon grows stronger. An instinct he buried deep and fought fiercely whenever he
found Stiles smelling wrong. It became harder and harder each time. Every time
he let his primal side smother Stiles’ body, he would take and all he could
think was MateMineBreedKnotProtectClaim . Then he’d wake up to Stiles’ body
tired and sore; pleasantly so, Stiles always assured him, but Derek felt guilty
all the same. Torn between shoving the Omega away for his own good or holding
him close and telling him how perfect he was, beautiful, strong and wanted.
Derek growls and sets his teeth over Stiles’ neck in lieu of a bite when his
knot starts to form. Stiles whines and rucks back eagerly in a desperate bid to
be tied. Derek pants through his nose as his thrusts turn shallower the fatter
his knot becomes, the hot, slick channel massaging his cock as his balls draw
closer and the need to breed rouses his wolf. A pale hand curls in his dark
hair and pulls him forcefully against the skin between his teeth.
Stiles bares his neck more and keens, digging his fingernails into Derek’s
scalp as the slick sound of their fucking reverberates around the room, his gut
tightening and breath shortening as Derek’s quickly expanding knot draws him
over the edge. He barely registers whispering out a barely coherent plea,
“Mate”, before sharp teeth sink into his skin and tear into his very being.
Everything goes white; in pleasure, in pain. Stiles’ skin stretches and
tightens, his jaw locks and feels slack, his eyes sharpen but lose focus, his
ears ring with noise but he feels deaf, he feels everything and nothing. Years
pass in seconds as a cry is torn from Stiles’ throat, his hole tight around
Derek’s knot, the Alpha’s seed being deposited deep inside. The teeth in his
neck recede and a wet, hot tongue gently lathes the weeping wound, a croon
washing over his nerves as he feels something awaken inside him, something that
wants to claw it’s way out and roar.
It’s all new and strange but at the same time it’s welcome. Stiles can feel it
below the surface, some kind of hindbrain ready to leap forth when called. His
wolf is born and it’s scared. It’s unsure of it’s own power, it’s place in the
world, and it wails.
Derek snaps out of whatever haze had pulled him under when his Omega cries out
for him, a Beta wolf seeking their pack Alpha. Derek growls low in his throat
and clamps his teeth over the now scarred mating bite, a hold to reassure
Stiles’ wolf it’s not alone, it’s Alpha is here to keep it safe. Derek cages
Stiles hips between his knees, knot still buried, and crosses Stiles’ arms over
his chest before covering them with his own. He rolls them over and away from
Stiles’ own release, keeping his precious Omega tight against him; crooning,
growling softly, licking and nuzzling every place he can reach until the bond
of Alpha and Omega, Alpha werewolf and Beta werewolf takes hold.
And when Stiles wakes up to the warm cage of Derek’s arms, neck aching and wolf
purring happily, he doesn’t know why he worried for so long. He rolls over to
face Derek, knot long slipped free, and rests his forehead against his mate’s.
He smiles at his Alpha, joyful and safe. Derek smiles back, stroking his cheek
with a look of such pure devotion it makes Stiles’ heart ache.
Stiles isn’t just an Omega anymore. He’s mated, claimed, and the Beta of an
amazing Alpha werewolf. He has a true place in the pack now, a future he won’t
walk alone, and a home in Derek that he can return to no matter what.
He’s been taken, but he’s been set free.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Jackson hadn’t known why Stiles was missing for the previous few days of
school, but by Monday everyone knew that Stiles was freshly mated, and every
supernatural in the vicinity was aware that their Alpha had a new Beta, a mate,
a second.
Stiles smirked as he passed Jackson by his locker and flashed his wolf eyes in
some sort of victory. Orange eyes, not gold. His status as the Alpha’s mate was
as clear as the involuntary submission Jackson was forced to show by averting
his eyes and bowing his head to his Alpha’s second. Jackson could only grit his
teeth and cuss him out mentally. Stiles grinned and his hand wandered absently
over his stomach, caressing the flat plain that will start to grow in 3 months.
===============================================================================
 
Stiles ass was sore, deliciously stretched and messy from Derek’s knot. They
lay together in bliss, newly mated and tired from fucking like animals. Stiles
had a thought; they were animals to a certain extent, werewolves with a deep
connection to nature. He grinned and turned to his Alpha flashing his eyes, his
body buzzing as he slipped from under the covers, “Come and catch me Alpha.” He
goaded his interested mate, clearly not too tired for another innumerous round.
Stiles dashed down the stairs and out the back door of the rebuilt Hale house,
sprinting through the darkness without a stitch of clothing. He hit the
treeline at full pelt and a tangible sense of freedom overtook him as the wind
whipped his hair, skin hot in lust, slick and come dribbling down the backs of
his thighs.
Derek stalked after him, a quiet but overbearing presence that would strike
fear into the heart of any prey other than his mate, who felt only giddy with
excitement. It wasn’t long before Stiles was pinned against a large tree as
Derek licked over the back of his neck, hair bristling his over sensitive skin
as Derek nipped at him, parting his thighs with a knee and sliding his dripping
cock over Stiles’ rim.
Stiles could see out of the corner of his eye that Derek was in his beta shift;
eyes, fangs, teeth, claws and fur sprouting to join the freedom of nature
around them. Stiles groaned shifted as well, tilted his neck back to rest on
Derek’s shoulder and leaving a stinging bite on his Alpha’s jaw. A low warning
growl rumbled in Derek’s chest but Stiles, smirking cheekily, only did it
again; he wanted it rough and rigorous.
Derek dragged Stiles away from the tree and positioned him on all fours,
mounting him without warning and sinking deep into his wet Omega. Stiles moaned
in a high pitch and pushed back, immediately rewarded with a cruel, delicious
pace that had his over hard cock coming within seconds.
They fucked in the dirt, beta shifted and leaving scratches and bite marks
wherever they could reach, making out messily through mouths full of teeth, and
lighting up the darkness with their eyes. They growled and snarled like pit
dogs, each trying for the upper hand and willingly losing when that perfect
spot was hit, surrendering to the others’ will time and time again.
Stiles was back on his hands and knees when Derek finally let his knot grow,
tugging on Stiles’ tight rim and eliciting a shudder when the first dribble of
searing hot come flooded his already drenched insides. Derek wrapped clawed
hands over the come swollen abdomen of his Omega. He stroked it tenderly and
Stiles sighed, pushing back onto Derek’s expanding knot with a whine and a
command, “Fucking breed me, Derek.”
The Alpha snarled and tugged him closer, forcing his full knot deeper and
biting harshly into Stiles’ shoulder over his mating mark as he emptied another
load into his mate’s fertile body. Thoughts of seeing Stiles swollen with child
and raising their cubs together flashed before his eyes and he whined with the
desperate need to make it real.
Stiles seemed to understand Derek’s thoughts and reached behind him to card
thin fingers through dark hair. Pulling out from his beta shift he nuzzled his
Alpha and pressed gentle kisses to his temple, wrapping their arms over Stiles
stomach and praying his new species would help him get pregnant faster. For all
his talk of not wanting to be a stereotypical Omega, Stiles really wanted this
with Derek; pack, cubs, and a den that they will care for and protect together.
His own version of a family.
===============================================================================
Stiles had expected his dad to be angry. He slunk home and tried to creep
noiselessly up the stairs knowing full well that his father was awake and
waiting at the kitchen table.
“Get in here.”
Stiles cursed under his breath and steeled himself, he would defend his choice
with everything he had. He entered the kitchen, unconsciously curling a hand
low over his stomach as he faced his father. The Sheriff stood and took a step
closer before taking notice of the way Stiles was instinctively protecting his
stomach; the exact same way his mother would when they were trying for
children.
“Are you hurt?” He asked softly. Stiles frowned and shook his head.
“And you- you consented?” He winced at that question but he had to get it out,
both as a father and as an advocate of the law. Again Stiles frowned but
nodded, “Yeah Dad, I- Yes.”
The Sheriff searched his son’s eyes for a moment before sighing, “You’re a
werewolf?”
Stiles stiffened slightly, he was still unsure as to how his father would react
to his only son becoming some kind of monster. But he can’t change it now,
doesn’t want to change it now, not when he has his mate, his pack, his promise
of a cub ; his future. Stiles flashed his orange eyes at his father, not a
threat, just a demonstration; the Sheriff’s heart skipped a beat all the same.
Stiles hadn’t expected to be hugged, had to fight off the urge to ClawMaimSnarl
and protect his possible cub before he was surrounded by the scent of his
father, his pack. He sagged in his father’s arms and snuggled deeper, giving in
to his new base instinct and searching out that warm pulse point where the
scent was strongest. Breathing the scent of them together cemented his
knowledge that he’s made the right choice, chosen the right mate; that
everything is going to be okay, that his plan worked and everything had turned
out perfectly.
End Notes
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