kinda feel like tommy would be a biter. and not even necessarily in a sexual way- but, yes, that, too, and buck's soo into it -but like. just. he comes downstairs to buck standing in the kitchen, making breakfast for them in nothing but low hanging sweats. and he's just so in love with this man, and he doesn't quite know what to do it with it all, feels like it might explode out of him. and so he makes his way to his boyfriend, and carefully, because he's still cooking, wraps his arms around him from behind, can't help but lean down and just. gently bite. buck's bare shoulder. leaves little indentation marks. kisses it softly better after.
or. like. they're lying on the sofa together. tommy's head on buck's chest, one of his hands tucked up underneath buck's top, and buck's info dumping excitedly about something new he's found interest in. and tommy's just. overwhelmed by how adorable his boyfriend is and just. has to lean over and softly nip his pec for it, through his t-shirt this time. buck's breath only stutters a little before he's off again and god. tommy's already so gone on this man.
or. or. they're lying in bed together, naked, just because. and tommy's head is resting on buck's stomach. buck's fingers are softly carding through his curls, and they're just talking. about everything and anything and nothing at all. and then buck says something that startles a laugh out of tommy, and he's suddenly overcome with such a strong wave of fondness for his boyfriend, overpowering the usual hum of it that's always in the background. his hearts so full and once again, he can't help it, has to put his feelings somewhere, and gently bites into buck's stomach. feels buck's breath hitch, his soft laughter as he does so, and thinks, 'god, this kid is gunna kill me,' and has to bite down a second time.
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katsuki blames the alcohol for making him stupid.
really stupid.
not that he's had a lot, but his tolerance is low for a guy of his size, and he can feel the edges of his inhibitions dulling with every drink of whatever denki has shoved in his hand. it doesn't taste like absolute shit, which is rare enough to have him indulging, just a bit, for the agency halloween party.
another sip has his head feeling a little swimmy, and before he knows it, his eyes are trailing across the room until they find you. again.
whatever the hell you're supposed to be tonight—a witch, or something else in a pointy hat—is really fucking with him, and has since you walked in. the costume isn't revealing in a sense that it's inappropriate for a work event, but it's...hugging you in all the right places. in every single one of them.
without tights, it would be on the too-short side, but—and no, katsuki can't fucking explain this—something about them is making everything worse. and your calf-high boots ain't helping, either.
it's just—your fucking—hips.
katsuki couldn't tell you what song is playing, but you're swaying back and forth to the tune and one of his canines digs into the plastic of his cup, so deeply that it makes a terrible creaking sound and dents beneath the pressure—and that's when a sharp elbow is delivered to the center of his chest.
mina is at his side when he looks, and her wide, freaky eyes scan his face before narrowing in her little shit-eating way.
"you're a pig."
katsuki chokes, and the little freak takes that as an admission of some kind.
"oh my god," she gasps, mouth falling in all her disgust and awe. "you can't even deny it!" and then she laughs, high and chirpy, and there's no way you can't hear her. "oh, you're down bad."
"cram it," he snaps, sinking his scowl into his cup. "i dunno what the hell you're talkin' about."
"you know i really thought better of you," mina sniffs effectively, turning her face up and away. "not the type to be blantly checking out somebody's ass."
katsuki bristles, and his aggrivation growns until the plastic in his hands starts to melt. "i wasn't—"
"i'm kidding!" mina snorts before flicking him in the nose, narrowly dodging the hand he swipes out at her. "quit being a baby and go shoot your shot already."
"piss. off."
but the hero is unaffected by him, simply scrunching up her face in response before turning on her heel to disappear further into the party.
she's wrong, katsuki thinks, because he's not a pig like sero or fucking dunce face or even kirishima, from time to time, who gets red in the face over a low cut shirt and a pair of tits.
fucking ridiculous, katsuki thinks, because he's way better than that.
it's just—the alcohol. that's making his lids heavy and his thoughts dark and his face hot. has him peeking at you over the lip of his cup, has him picturing you in his head when he's forced to look away.
and, well, maybe, the short cut of your dress has a little something to do with it, too—but he's keeping that shit to himself.
taking it to the grave, even.
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okay okay vampire obi-wan and anemic human anakin who goes to be his meal at like a fancy vampire bistro that pays willing humans to "donate" blood (get bitten) and tastes like shit whomst obi-wan then tries to take care of (in all the ways he can from sunset to sunrise) first so his food tastes good (bc anakin keeps coming back) and then because he cares
sends cookbooks to his apartment, tries to get him to go to the doctor, sends him other little gifts when he sees thinks that make him think of anakin, obi-wan just like wants to take care of his boy because he's clearly not taking care of himself (he signed up to be vampire food so that much should have been obvious) and obi-wan just wants him well is that too much to ask?
they fight about this often. (first: "how did you get my address?" "It's on the form you filled out to be here" "invasion of privacy much?" then: "you could always just... choose someone else?" "and let another vampire suffer from your lack of self care? absolutely not."") ("i don't know why you're putting so much into this? "i must have nothing else to do.") ("if this bothers you so much... just let someone else feed off me." "no.")
anakin stops showing up to be dinner for a few weeks and obi-wan gets worried. but he's not sure how far he's allowed to go in his worry, they're technically just... predator and prey (though obi-wan wouldn't describe them like that) it's just that no one tastes like anakin (that's definitely it) and nobody sasses him like anakin, and nobody is anakin and anakin is missing and clearly if he's been gone this long he can't possibly be okay
(and obi-wan is right, anakin isn't okay. he's in the hospital with an arm that might need to be amputated (but it was obi-wan's favorite place to drink from since he won't touch anakin's neck for reasons he WON'T explain)
(if you asked obi-wan why he didn't bite anakin's neck to begin with, he'd heavily imply there's no reason, but when pressed, it would be that anakin let's out this breathy moan when he's bitten, and it's music to obi-wan's ears, a symphony to his soul, he doesn't think he'd survive it if that was right in his ear, he'd have to kiss the boy then and there, have to keep him, and he can't do that, so his neck is off limits. it is IMPERATIVE anakin does not know this)
and he's lost a lot of blood and he's suffering and not alone because ahsoka and padme keep visiting, but he doesn't know how much he misses obi-wan until he isn't seeing him)
so one night obi-wan goes to anakin's apartment to see he isn't there and hasn't been there in weeks based on sent, and panics because what if he drove his beautiful boy away, or what if someone went after him, and obi-wan can't go in bc vampire rules say he needs permission and also it's good manners.
eventually anakin comes back to him, sans one arm, apologetic because "i know that's where you liked to bite" as if that could possibly be the reason that obi-wan is as upset as he is when he comes in. "i'd understand if you need a different meal," he says, as if that's all he is when obi-wan refuses to bite him because for the first time, he looks fragile and that's heartbreaking
so anakin leaves and obi-wan is gobsmacked, flabberghasted, realized anakin waited to have this conversation as close to sunrise as possible so obi-wan couldn't follow him out of the bar, but he doesn't realize that his vampire would absolutely run into the sun for him (except quin and satine 1000% don't let him "that's not how you get your man, he doesn't want a pile of dust, where's that going to get you, man, think for just a fraction of a second")
so obi-wan send anakin more little gifts, things he can puzzle out one handed as he gets used to being an amputee, trinkets he might enjoy, notes that are meant to make him smile, or that say he'll find somewhere else to feed on the boy if that's going to get him to come back when nothing else has worked. all he wants is to let anakin know that he's he's appreciated, make him feel wanted and loved.
eventually anakin sends him a note back with his phone number and then texts him to come over. he makes obi-wan stand on his stoop for an excruciating amount of time and he gets a lecture about personal space, and respecting people's wishes and "it doesn't matter that you're 300 years old, some people just don't want anything to do with you!" and anakin tries to say all of this with a straight face, before he cracks because he misses obi-wan and it is an act, and he's been in love with this vampire since he decided it was his job to take care of one human that wasn't taking care of himself.
then anakin kisses him and gives him a goofy grin and asks "what are you doing just standing there?"
"are you inviting me in?"
"i guess i am. you're stuck with me though, i'm your problem now."
"darling, you've been my problem for a long time, and i wouldn't have it any other way."
and eventually they fuck, and obi-wan bites anakin's neck, and here's his symphony played out in the most desirable circumstances. and they live happily ever after
(until anakin pesters him about making him a vampire "so i can be your problem, permanently" and they argue about it, but agree that anakin gets a life first "you've gotta be at least 40 before i turn you, i'm not going around looking like i forever robbed the cradle!" "you're not even 40! 25." "nope." "fine, 30 then, final offer." "and if I say no?" obi-wan's grin is feral, like he knows he's lost but he's still willing to play the game. "i know you won't" so does obi-wan)
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The Clever One
(this is a sneak peek for the Steter fic I'm currently working on, where Stiles realizes in season 1 that Peter's canon behavior toward him is strange, how he never hurts Stiles, never tries to kill him, offers Stiles a choice. He comes to the conclusion that he's Peter's mate. So he sets conditions for Peter, leading to a season 2 rewrite with Alpha Peter. and Alpha Mate Stiles, rebuilding the Hale Pack together.)
--
Stiles walked into the broken, burned out husk of the Hale House like he owned the place. Just to be stopped by a hand on his chest and blue eyes flashing at him from Derek’s annoyed face.
“What are you doing here, Stiles,” Derek growled.
“I’m here to talk to your glorious Alpha,” Stiles tilted his head with an uncaring air.
He was not going to let Derek threaten him. Sure, in the past his heart would jump and he would be afraid, even if he still helped Derek out. Right now, Stiles was fully confident in his own safety. Derek narrowed his eyes in irritation, smelling or hearing that Stiles wasn’t intimidated.
“You fought him, in the hospital. You fought him to protect me,” Stiles argued with a frown. “He killed your sister, Derek. Why did you join him?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Derek was close to snarling.
“Try me,” Stiles threw up his hands. “I understand a lot more than you think.”
This time, Derek did snarl. Just to receive a warning growl from upstairs. A cocky grin spread over Stiles’ lips. He’d known the Alpha was here too. He’d known that as long as Peter was close by, Derek wouldn’t get to do any threatening or bodily harm. The beta ground his teeth and stepped back. Hah. Oh, Stiles was absolutely going to revel in the fact that he now outranked Derek. Alpha Mate beat out the Alpha’s right-hand. His grin turned a note of shit-eating.
“He was in a coma for six years. Slowly healing. Aware of everything around him. You couldn’t understand what that is like for a wolf, especially…” Derek swallowed hard, looking away. “Everyone was dead, me and Laura were gone. He was alone with it all.”
“He went insane,” Stiles nodded. “I feel like we established the insanity part in the hospital. You fought him in the hospital. I want to know what changed since then.”
“He’s still healing,” Derek’s voice dropped even more. “He wasn’t fully healed when he killed Laura, he was… feral. Acting on instincts. Seeking to get better. Becoming Alpha… did that.”
Stiles could hear it. He could hear the despair in Derek’s voice. Stiles closed his eyes and heaved a soft sigh. Asking Derek was useless, Derek desperately wanted to believe this. Because what was the other option? That his only living family had willingly, or even joyfully, murdered Derek’s sister? No. Of course did Derek cling onto the hope that things could get better now.
“Okay,” Stiles sighed. “You can go now, Derek.”
The beta stared at him incredulously. “You don’t tell me what to do, Stiles. Werewolf, human. We established this. Why do you think you can tell me what to do, in my own home.”
With all the confidence he could muster did Stiles raise his head, not cowering, holding Derek’s gaze with a calm pulse. “Because Alpha Mate outranks right-hand.”
And oh this felt good. Stiles smirked cockily. Even as a not werewolf, he could feel the tension in the air. The shocked look on Derek’s face – genuine shock, meaning Derek hadn’t put it together yet and Peter hadn’t told him, oh damn, Derek hadn’t even known. A laugh barked out from upstairs.
“I knew you would figure it out on your own. I didn’t think so soon though,” Peter sounded both amused and nearly fond. “Leave us, Derek.”
Grounding his teeth together, Derek shot his uncle one last look before he headed out. Peter only walked into view at the top of the stairs after they could hear the Camaro roar to life and drive off.
“Tell me that he’s right,” Stiles ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me that you are still healing. Getting better. Because, you know, the bit where you mauled one of my best friends-”
“She was all over you,” Peter growled, his eyes flashing red. “You were all over her.”
Stiles swallowed, the cockiness cracking some. Not because the growling and red eyes intimidated him, but because of how much they turned him on. No one had ever been possessive over him. Heck, no one had ever been interested in him. Sure, Lydia had gone to Homecoming with him in the end, but that had been more coercion from Allison and pity than Lydia actually wanting him. Lydia still wanted Jackson. Still loved Jackson. Might always love Jackson.
Peter cleared his throat, all calm and professional again. “I am still healing. The outside heals the fastest, it’s… the inside that needs more time, even with wolf-healing. A large part of me is still very… feral and reduced to base instincts. I attacked her because my inner wolf felt threatened by her, threatened by the way she was making advances on my mate.”
Stiles’ heart jumped a little at that. So he had figured it out, but actually hearing himself referred to as Peter’s mate was something else entirely than figuring it out on his own, for himself. Stiles bit down on his cheek, his arms tightly crossed in front of his chest. Part of him was grateful Peter was still at the top of the stairs. Physical distance between them. This whole conversation was a lot. Though Stiles had come to the realization that he was Peter’s mate, he had not fully come to terms with that fact. He didn’t know what to do with it, or what it could or should or would mean.
“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Peter’s voice was soft, which might be the weirdest part of this entire conversation. “Or with you. Not yet. You’re more child than man, Stiles. But I can already tell why my wolf chose you as my mate. You are clever. Brilliant. Tricky. Manipulative. Cunning. Quick-witted. All the qualities I cherish the most.”
Stiles couldn’t help but flush at that. “Yeah, well, don’t make it sound like that’s your grand gesture there, I am not exactly tripping over myself trying to get into your pants either. You turned my best friend into a werewolf, without his consent – even though you proved that you are capable of asking for it when you asked me if I wanted the bite – and you mauled Lydia. I’m not considering you Prince Charming. And from what my research showed, a werewolf mate-bond is something that strengthens and grows over time. So, I guess, you still have time to prove yourself.”
Peter quirked his lips, looking absolutely amused by him. “Prove myself, mh?”
“Again. Maiming and mauling of people I love,” Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You say you don’t want anything romantic or sexual with me yet, but this mate-bond thing is a life-long bond. At one point, you will. Because you’re the wolf here. You can feel it. So, if you want me to be on the same page by then, you better prove yourself to me.”
The grin on Peter’s lips looked near amazed or excited and Stiles didn’t know what to do with that. It was like the Alpha enjoyed being challenged, enjoyed that Stiles wasn’t just swooning at the prospect of having a soulmate, but gave Peter conditions to earn it. Weird.
“You’ve seen what I’m capable of,” and it was clearly implied here that Peter didn’t just speak of his werewolf abilities but morally, the depth of the things he was willing to do. “So tell me then, what do you think you can demand of me?”
“What I think I can demand of you? Pretty much anything, as long as it’s about me,” Stiles huffed amused, cocking his head. “You can’t hurt me. I mean, physically can’t. And I think that… even emotionally, you couldn’t, not intentionally. Heck, part of me thinks that you turning Scotty was for me, in a twisted, weird way, because your wolf could smell me all over him, thought it would appeal to me if you had my best friend in your pack. And Lydia. You attacked her irrationally, feral and threatened, but when I asked you to let someone come and help her, you agreed. Because you saw how much her condition was getting to me. I think I can ask pretty much anything of you.”
“Manipulative,” Peter pointed out, and he sounded proud and impressed and pleased. “Well, then.”
“You will never lay a hand on anyone I love again,” Stiles eyes were hard and his voice was cold, his body-language conveying how serious he was. “Not my dad, not Scott, not Scott’s mom, not Lydia. Reign your possessive wolf instincts in. She’s not interested in me anyway. If you ever hurt any of them again, I will put a wolfsbane bullet in you myself.”
“Threatening,” Peter smirked. “Cute.”
“I’m not joking,” Stiles frowned annoyed. “I’m the sheriff’s son. I know how to use a gun. And I know where to get wolfsbane bullets from.”
The playfulness left Peter when he realized that Stiles needed to be taken seriously here. “Okay. Noted down. I don’t plan on hurting my pack anyway. Of which Scott is a part of now, whether he likes it or not. And Lydia, well, the cuts were deep so who knows if she will end up joining my pack too. Your father is safe, I promise you that.”
There was still quip and snark in his voice, but that last sentence was spoken with sincerity and Stiles nodded pleased. “No more turning anyone without their consent. Scott hates this, hates being a werewolf, if he’d had a choice he would have said no. I get that a pack of three isn’t going to do you much good, I know you’re going to turn more people, strengthen the pack. But everyone you bite will first be informed of both the good and the bad, they will be given a choice, and that choice is going to be respected by you. The way you gave me a choice, and respected it.”
“I have no problem with that condition,” Peter waved a dismissive hand. “Scott is more trouble than he is gain to me, as is. A beta who doesn’t want to be a werewolf is not an asset to the pack. Betas who are loyal to their Alpha, who will be willing to listen to their inner wolves, will be assets. I only turned him out of instinct, the need to strengthen my pack while not being… mentally there enough to actually think things through. Believe me, I will plan out my pack in the future.”
“Our,” Stiles corrected unflinchingly. “Alpha Mate. Makes this my pack too, doesn’t it?”
The look on Peter’s face was nearly smug with delight. “Our pack.”
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