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apocalypse-shuffle · 5 months

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PETER HALE | “CREEPER WOLF” (teen wolf)

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“A Different Breed” (Peter Hale x Fem!Reader)

| With Lydia (& Allison) unwilling to help, and Peter unwilling to let himself be pushed around and fucked over by children, Peter finds other means to unlocking the secrets trapped in his late sister’s claws.

| SFW, canon divergence, manipulative!peter (what’s new though really?), reader is of African and Irish descent -banshee!reader

| 1k+ words

“Y/n L/n.”

Instinctually your brows furrow at the sound of your name even as you’re still looking at the ledgers on the library table.

“Yes?” You turn towards the person, a man. Trying not to seem rude you do him the favor of not looking at him as if he’s crazy for coming up to you with your full government name in his mouth. “If you’re looking for Ms. Fields she’s in the computer lab.”

He shakes his head. Something about the way he’s looking at you makes you stay stiff as you try to place if you’ve seen him before while leaning back on the table.

“Oh no,” he smiles in a way that’s probably supposed to be pleasant, “I’ve found exactly who I was looking for.”

Mhm. Part of your soul starts to ring out with danger bells but you don’t let him see that.

Planting your hands behind you on the desk you lean back some, inclining your head softly to the side, “What were you looking for me for?”

“Help.”

You nod slowly, dark fingers tapping against the edge of the table. This man doesn’t exactly give off the vibe of someone who needs (or trusts) help from anybody, but part of your job was literally helping people so you couldn’t call bullshit just yet.

You make sure to keep your expression open.

“Cool. What can I help you with, Mr… ?”

At your light promoting it’s like a flip switches and he suddenly remembers he has to seem far less suspicious than he’s otherwise been coming off.

His face loses its tension and in response you relax the tiniest bit as well.

“Hale,” he easily answers the inquiry.

The name pings at something familiar in your head. Hale…Hale? Ah!

“As in Talia Hale?”

The man’s eyebrows go up and a cool smile takes over his face.

“Yeah actually. I’m surprised you’re old enough to remember.”

You give him a tight lipped smile. He definitely isn’t looking to make a light library request if he’s a werewolf whose purposely sought you out.

“I’m in my 20’s actually. I went to school with Derek.”

He hums, a sound that might actually be signifying a genuine moment of interest.

“You know what? I thought your name sounded familiar.” He points to you, a roguish smile stretches across sharp features. “You were the basketball team’s manager, weren’t you?”

You snort despite yourself.

Out of all the reasons he could have remembered you by - the most likely of which being that you were one of the scant few black student body that went to BHS - that it was for basketball was a pleasant enough surprise.

“Yeah, I was, actually - and since you’re not Derek I’m gonna guess you’re his uncle.”

“Yes well,” he makes a low sound and meets your eyes, “I am his uncle. Peter.” He holds out his hand.

You only have a second to eye it in contemplation before it becomes socially unacceptable, but he’s got a really intense stare and you’re already nervous about this whole thing, so you end up biting the bullet before you can really think your decision through.

Hastily, you accept his outstretched hand to shake and immediately he uses the connection to pull himself closer. It forces you to knock your head back a bit to keep looking him in the face, your own face heating up.

Peter chuckles. It’s smooth and feels just a little patronizing and makes your eyebrow raise.

Those alarm bells from earlier start kicking up a fuss, whirring through your bloodstream like a tsunami. You keep a tightly controlled lid on it, but just barely.

Even as a beta Peter Hale was dangerous.

“You gonna stare at me with those pretty eyes all day, or you gonna tell me what you need?”

The corner of his eyes crinkle and his smile widens. His hand is still inhumanly warm against yours.

“Don’t knock yourself short, your eyes are pretty too.” He blinks down at you, eyes twinkling for a brief moment. “Like cognac diamonds.”

You bite the inside of your lip as Peter leans in even more, planting one of his hands next to yours on the table. Your breath speeds up as your bodies graze one another.

Casual as anything Peter leans down till your heads are level so he can whisper.

“Let’s cut the pretense, shall we, I know what you are.” Instantly you tense up again, eyes widening. Now his presence so close to you feels burning hot; nearly suffocating. Your palm is getting sweaty and your fingers are starting to creek at his tightening hold.

You swallow thickly, licking your lips. His breath puffs warmth onto the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to sprout along your brown skin.

“I'm going to need to use those abilities of yours.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You bite your lip harder after the poorly hidden shakiness in your voice meets your ears. The man - the wolf looming over you chuffs, voice going back to normal.

“Come on, Sweetheart. We both know that’s not true.” He straightens up then, his now free hand coming to press into his chest. “Let’s make this easier. I’m Peter Hale, big bad werewolf; and you’re Y/n L/n, prettiest banshee in Beacon Hills.”

“There’s other banshees in this town.”

He nods.

“Oh I know, but I’m not much into children and she wouldn’t be my type anyway. Now, you’re going to help me because teenage girls are brats.”

Your jaw works as you stare up at him. There’s not much you could even do in this situation other than go along or get your throat ripped out. You’d overheard some…things about Peter from your father the night he was admitted into the hospital that you’d rather not get a personal example of. Pack left hand, ruthless, it was good he wasn’t able to cause any more trouble.

“Fine,” you force out.

Eyes dropping, you glare daggers into the floor as he chuckles.

“Good choice.” He starts dragging you off towards one of the back rooms, “Now how advanced in your birthright are you? And who activated you?”

Your jaw clenches but you make yourself answer anyway.

“Since I graduated high school,” you glare at his back, “and not a who, a what.”

“Ah,” Peter nods and gestures for you to unlock the door. “The nemeton?”

Snatching your key ring from your pocket you shove the correct one into the hole and the second the key’s pulled back he’s knocking it open and shoving you in before him.

You stumble but quickly spin back around to keep your eyes on the werewolf.

“Yes,” you snap, “the nemeton was left defenseless and was just reacting to the only supernatural beings left, dormant or not.”

Peter locks and then leans against the door.

“Me and you,” he says, crossing his arms.

You hum an affirmative and go about shoving your rumpled clothes back into place.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Noted.”

He has the audacity to throw you yet another one of those roguish smiles before those angelite eyes flash a supernatural electric blue.

That thing deep within you that turns your eyes white and forces a wail from your throat when death’s near rumbles inside your chest in response. You glare at Peter, shoving it down.

“Just tell me what you want.”

He claps before pulling a brown ornate jar out from behind his back.

“I want you to tell me what memory is trapped in these,” he scowls, “the full memory.”

“No shit,” you grunt.

When you reach for the jar he puts it more out of reach and inclines his head to give you a reproachful look though. You roll your eyes, the one time a man shows some interest in you and it’s this guy.

“I get it. The full memory or you’ll rip my throat out with your teeth or whatever.”

He scoffs but hands you the jar. You start to untwist it.

“The whole throat teeth thing is much more my nephew's style. No, I like to use my claws. There’s zero need for blood in my mouth when it’s sticking to my clothes.”

You grimace. Damn v-neck wearing bastard. No stable person talked like that, he was crazy, and you say as much out loud.

“So you're crazy?”

He laughs, sounding a little startled, and you dump the five werewolf claws into your palm. Ooookay.

“I’ve got to say, I like you way more than the other banshee I know.”

You grunt.

“Martin’s daughter, right?”

“Just the one,” he drawls.

You nod vaguely while inspecting the claws, turning them over with the fingers of your free hand. They’ve got a distinct hum of magic around them still, a particular frequency.

“These are Talia’s,” you state.

“Oh you are on a roll today, Sweetheart,” his eyes run over your body appreciatively before jumping back to your face. His smirk only widens at the unimpressed look you’re giving him, “now just tell me what she took from me.”

You give him one last pinched look before closing your eyes and clamping your fist around the sharp points. You exhale and focus on the frequency.

Alphas. Head of their packs. Crimson eyes. Leaders. Wolves. Chosen protector of Beacon Hills, burned alive on its lands after years of successfully protecting it and the people within it.

Your eyes snap open. They’re white. White like snow or powdered sugar. Like your mother’s favorite blanket on the back of the couch or like the steam from the pot when you whip up some soup when you’re missing your grandma like hell. White like the froth from crashing waves, like the blur between the mother, the spirit, and the crone when they flash before mortals eyes. White like the void between life and death.

The blank image before you, as you see with different eyes, flashes into one of a black haired woman. Talia Hale. She’s standing beside a chair, a chair Peter’s sitting in. Another flash and a screaming woman is there, talking about a baby and Peter and how it’s taking her power goddamnit!

You gasp, eyes blinking back to the present and keel forward, dropping the claws to the floor in the process. You barely make out the tiny clinks of them hitting the vinyl, hands resting on bent knees as harsh breaths rush from your chest.

Peter’s suddenly there, the claws are no longer on the ground and the jar’s nowhere to be seen. He grabs your forearms and then hefts you upright, shaking you.

“What? What was it? What’d you see?”

You groan and try to shake him off but he doesn’t budge. His grip only gets tighter.

“Fuck you,” you gasp. “You’ve got a kid - a Coyote wer - somewhere here in Beacon.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I’ll catch any typos later.

In retrospect it really is wild how little black people were in Teen Wolf. Like, off the top of my head there was only four, I think.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

#peter hale #black!reader #black y/n #peter hale x black!reader #banshee!reader #peter hale x fem!reader #talia hale’s claws #peter hale & malia tate #peter hale x reader #peter hale imagine #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf

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outtoshatter · 2 months

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Today's author spotlight is @sterek-stuffs!

Drabbles:

The rescue mission | T | 100 tags: Deputy Stiles, kidnapped Derek, implied violence Summary: In most situations, Stiles can be a reasonable man. This is not most situations.

The move | T | 100 tags: established relationship, moving in Summary: The perks of moving in with a werewolf

The alliance | G | 100 tags: fae Stiles, alpha Derek, marriage proposal Summary: Derek comes to the fae lands with a proposal.

The dangerous one | T | 100 tags: BAMF Stiles Summary: Why you should never threaten Derek Hale

One-shots:

Like leaves | G | 2k tags: horseback riding, magic Stiles, AU, meet cute, autumn, open ending Summary: When Stiles moved to Vermont to train as an emissary, he didn't expect to fall quite so hard.

Making love is how we'll pray | E | 2k tags: ritual sex, magic Stiles, alpha Derek, knotting, shifted sex Summary: Stiles and Derek perform a ritual in the woods.

Soft | G | 800 tags: fluff, wolf Derek, sharing a bed Summary: Soft:

1. having a smooth surface or texture that is pleasant to touch; not rough or coarse.

2. having a pleasing quality involving a subtle effect or contrast rather than sharp definition.

Multi-chapter:

Dear Fellow Traveler | M | 32k | 5 chapters tags: endgame Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, initial Lydia/Stiles, magical BAMF Stiles, Stiles-centric Summary: Years after shit went down in Beacon Hills a traumatized Stiles is dating Lydia and living in New York, trying to avoid and get over anything related to the supernatural. When he finally decides to go back to his hometown and face his fears, he will be lead down a path of self-discovery that will change the course he had set for his life.

Go check out lanalua's page!, and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!

#sterek #author spotlight #sterek fandom #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #spotlight saturday #lanalua

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abridgerton · 1 year

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My Duty, My Honor {Reader x Anthony}

Part 1/?

Word Count: 1.5k+

Triggers: Kissing, suggestive talk, forced marriage

Summary: Lily Wickham was caught with Anthony in a secret rondevouz in the garden, leaving her and the rakinsh Viscount no choice but to get married - even if she detests him.

A/N: Hello! I adore writing for Anthony, and I particularly like where this story is going - so please, if you enjoy reading this, please let me know that it would be worth writing a part two!

~ Sometimes, when I close my eyes I can imagine myself in a world where I am free; someplace where I am not bound to my duty or my family. To love freely with whom I choose - to find happiness in my other half. Oh, I long for the day I find romance and acceptance; for the first time in my life I shall know joy ~

My hopeful dreams of a love match have disappeared entirely as of last night. The Viscount Bridgerton asked for my hand in marriage two twilights ago, and upon the insistence of my mother, I accepted.

When I was a young girl I entertained myself with fantasies of my prince charming - a gallant man who would sweep me off my feet and carry me into the sunset; a man who was decorated with manners and grace, a man who I would be proud to father my children. Viscount Bridgerton is far from what I had in mind. Perhaps my disdain for him stems from the wild cowlick hair that stands up off the back of his head, or that annoying purr in his voice when he speaks.

"Lydia," he panted in agony, "we should not be here..." His shimmering green eyes momentarially connected with mine, as he ran his devilishly dark irises along the length of my body - up and down before landing on my lips, and planting a soft kiss. I have never known such bliss, or such rebellion. Something about the impertinence made him so .. exciting. Anthony was the forbidden fruit, and I could not help but take a bite.

"Something about his arrogant countenance displeases me," I thought as I sat near the foot of my bed, staring at the gold trimmed white wall in front of me. To my right, on the nearby wall sat my families tapistry, woven from the finest gold, green, and red threads my ancient family could source. It displayed my families crest - an ornate display of leopards and snakes intertwining a large shield engraved with the family name, Wickham.

This tapestry was purposefully placed in my chambers as a permanent reminder of my duty to the family. No matter the circumstance, it is my duty to populate my family line - and I must do so by marrying well. As far as Viscount Bridgerton goes, he is head of the wealthiest estate in the county. Though I disapprove of him, I cannot deny the advantages of giving him my hand - a sizeable dowry for my future daughters, a place in society, an esate to own; oh, this life would be any womans dream.

Sometimes , late at night when I'm alone , I envision myself as Viscountess and head woman of the Bridgerton house; I will not jest, the idea of such prestige is a pleasant one. The union would bring me a new wardrobe, fine carriages, and luxury beyond anything I have ever known.

Marriage to this rakish man is my one chance of living in such splendor. Why must it he him that I marry? Why could Colin have not been first born? Or Benedict? Why Anthony?

I would rather resign my life away to an artist or a nomad than a man of such disgusting hubris. Nonetheless, I am the first born daughter of my family, and thus I must secure my position. After all, I will be the one responsible for paying their dowries and assimilating them into society.

What a terrible burden.

"Madam?" My ladies maid loudly called out from behind my chamber room door, "it is time to be dressed."

"Already?" panic resounded through my head, "I'm not ready..."

Despite my internal doubts, I beckoned my ladies maid to join me. As she entered the room, I noticed an emerald green silk gown with silver embellishments sprawled across her arms. I had never seen this gown before, a genuine suprise to me.

"Where did you get this?" I asked the ladies maid in an accusatory tone.

She waited to respond, continuing to lay the wrinkles out on the dress - but after a few beats she met my eyes for a moment, "It was picked up today from the modiste," she answered in a flat tone, "I'm told it was a rush order."

This response was shocking at first, for I did not know my mother was already arranging my marriage wardrobe. It is true - the Viscount and I had a whirlwind romance; it had not even been two weeks after we met that we were declared to be married. It had all happened so quickly that night in the garden ...

I remember the way his fair skin shone in the ambient starlight - his radience illuminating the vines around the garden wall - and the way the flowers around us smelled after the fresh rain that evening. He bewitched me with just one flash of that charming smile, just one glance with him was enough to break down my walls and give myself to him. "You are utterly breathtaking," he whispered into my ear, the heat of his breath warming the full of my lips, "I cannot control myself ..." Even the memory was intoxicating - ruining my head all over again.

It was only a kiss. Just one.

Thats all it took.

Now I will be Viscountess Bridgerton - what a terrifying thought.

I wish so terribly that Mrs. Featherington had not been out for a promenade that night. I wish we would have chosen the library, or the closet, or anywhere more discreet ... but the garden? What were we, animals?

My daydreaming was swiftly interrupted once again by a hughty womans voice, "Ma'am" my maid beckoned, "we really must begin.."

I loudly huffed, forced to remember that my time is never truly my own. "Right," I replied, "we must be going soon." She nodded with me in agreement.

With a heavy sigh, I positioned myself in front of my bed post, and grabbed hold-

"Breathe out!" my maid shouted, "Suck in!" she barked, and I did as I was told. She pulled the laces tighter, and tighter around my chest until I was sure my ribs would snap. What would society say then? Would they say I was unfit to marry due to injury? Perhaps I could befall some tradgedy, so I may spare Anthony and I the impending disaster of this match ...

-she began to work on my hair. I watched as she pinned my long stands of platinum blonde hair into an updo upon the crown of my head. She separated thin locks of my hair into tight spirals, exposing the back of my neck and freeing my shoulders from the weight of my hair. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I could see the uncertainty written across my features as plain as day. What if he changed his mind and left me jilted? What if we truly were miserable together? Would I be able to love him?

Ouch! I gasped as my maid mistakingly nicked my scalp with a starp hairpin. She immediately recoiled and appologized, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I did not mean to be so careless-"

I met her eyes in the mirror and cut her off, "It's fine, Mary," I let out a small exhale and looked down at the wooden floor below by vanity, "just continue, please." Mary nodded and swifty began pinning my hair again.

I hate the fuss and the frills and the dancing that is expected of a lady. Its all so ... dramatic! Why should I be forced to ready myself for hours to be considered presentable to society? Why should I not be given the privilege of skipping out on events of the ton like my brothers?

As much as these questions bothered me, I could not focus on them for too long. Mary had finished my hair and powder, which meant I was officially ready to be transported. Mary placed her hand gently on my right shoulder - just next to the lace trimming of my dress, and spoke, "M'lady, its time." I rose from my chair with a grim expression and began straigntening out the front of my dress.

I could not let the Viscount see me in such a distressed state.

"One. Two. Three," I counted slowly, "inhale, exhale .."

"Okay," I said to Mary, "I think I'm ready."

She turned to me and smiled with her dark lips curled into a delicate smirk and her eyebrows tightly drawn. Perhaps she saw the desprate look on my face, or the small bead of sweat forming on my brow, because she felt the need to remind me of my duty.

"You know what you must do," Mary whispered as she grabbed my hands, "you know what must be done."

Her words awoke something in me - something dutiful and ancient. Like my mother, and her mother, and back and back and back, I would marry well and secure my position for my future children.

Though these things were true, I might as well have been walking to the gallows. This was the end of my feedom; my secret horseback rides at dawn, lonesome walks into town, silent nights - these would all be stolen from me within the confines of marriage. My life would never be my own.

One stolen moment in the garden left me bound to a man I could not detest more. The heavens must be frowning upon be in this moment.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #edwina sharma #king george #violet bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #period drama rp #period drama #regency era

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dingochef · 6 months

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A belated Happy Birthday to our favorite flyboy, Glen Powell. Here's a one shot from my Dancing on the Clouds Below universe featuring Jake and Elsa.

Masterlist

Flyboy

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Oral Sex (F receiving), Spanking, P in V sex,

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: A very sexy Birthday for your favorite flyboy, Jake.

With Jake's birthday coming up you wanted to do something special for him; Jake has always put in the extra effort in his gifts to you. An idea came floating through your head. A few phone calls later, it was coming together. Lydia is the first of those phone calls.

"Hey, chicka, what's up?" she perkily asks when she answers the phone.

"Jake's birthday is coming up and I have an idea for a gift, but I need a good boudoir photographer. I figured you might have a line on one, rather than me randomly searching the internet," you explain.

"What makes you think I have a naughty photographer in my Rolodex?" she replies, only mildly indignant.

There is a long pause and then she sighs,

"Ok, you're not wrong. I can text you the info right after this call. So, what kind of look are you going for? Naughty nurse, classy soft focus, Playboy bunny?"

You laugh,

"None of those ones, I was going to do the pin up look, kind of like the nose art on WWII planes. I've got a friend who works at the air and space museum and she's got me some time after hours to do a photoshoot."

"Ooh, great idea. Any specific outfits?"

"I thought of doing a sexed up Rosie the Riveter and then I've got a nice skimpy red dress, heels, and stockings. I'm going to smuggle his bomber jacket out and wear that in a couple."

"Nice, you need help with hair and makeup? I'd love to tag along and see how it goes. This is exactly the kind of thing Rooster would come in his pants for."

"Eww, thanks for the visual. And yes that would be super helpful for getting the look right. It is kind of a pilot thing, isn't it?"

She laughs,

"Yeah, it is."

You hang up and the info for Jenny of Satin Dreams Boudoir Photography pings on your phone. You take a quick look at her website and like her style, so you give her a call.

"Jenny speaking," a pleasant sounding voice answers the phone.

"Hi, this is Elsa Matthews, I got your contact info for photography from Lydia O'Callahan," you reply.

"Oh yeah, Lydia, she's always been a fun one to work with. That red hair is perfect for the camera, what can I do for you?"

You give her the rundown on the location and the ideas you have in you head and some of the available times.

Jenny is excited by the idea,

"I love it! I've been wanting to do some vintage work and this is perfect. Let me know your email and I can send you pricing and contract details."

That settled you now have to come up with the second part of the plan that includes a little bit of subterfuge. You tell Jake that you have a networking event to attend for work that'll keep you late. You're able to smuggle his bomber jacket out by waiting for him to leave for work first.

You're at work for most of the day and it seems to drag on. Finally, the clock hits 3 pm and you practically sprint to your car. When you get to Lydia's house she is bouncing with excitement.

"This is going to be so fun," she says as you walk in. You're quickly ushered to her bathroom where she has laid out what seems like an absurd amount of makeup and hair products.

You show her a few pictures of what you were thinking for hair, classic 40s wave for the red dress and a simple updo to go with the bandanna of the Rosie the Riveter outfit.

She gets to work and soon you have a perfect Rita Hayworth wave that is frozen into place with a lot of hair products. Next is makeup,

"I know this is going to feel like a lot, but for photography you have to exaggerate a bit more than what you would wear in real life," Lydia warns you.

About 45 minutes later Lydia has transformed you into a sexy Hollywood star of yesteryear complete with fake lashes and red lipstick.

"This is perfect. Thank you so much, I would have never gotten this to look so good. You're like my naughty godmother of hair and makeup."

She giggles and claps her hands with excitement. You look at the clock and it's time to head over to the Air and Space Museum.

You park in the back and meet Becky, your friend and gal on the inside, at the staff entrance. Lydia and you haul all the stuff in. Becky leads you to the section of the museum where the WWII aircraft are located. Jenny is already there setting up her equipment.

She walks over to you and gives Lydia a hug and then looks at you,

"So good to meet you in person, Elsa. You are going to be the perfect model today," she says. You're instantly at ease with her, she is in her 50s, long hair that is perfectly silver with little square glasses perched on her nose. She reminds you more of an English Lit professor than a naughty photographer.

Becky shows you to a small room you can change in. You start with the black satin underwear, the garter belt, black sheer stockings with seams, lace tops, and little bows at the back and then shimmy on the red satin dress. The dress is ruched up the sides and is strapless. You put on your red heels with straps and take a look at yourself in the mirror. The dress is short and you can see the lace tops of your stockings. You turn around and give a little squeal of glee, this is exactly the look you were going for. You walk back confidently to where Jenny has set up. She is at a B-29, a bomber that has been shined up and looks gorgeous. A speaker is playing a 1940s playlist.

You use a step ladder to get up on the wing and Jenny moves it so she can use it to take the shots. She directs you where to put your legs, your arms and you take a variety of shots on the wing. Your next series of shots are inside the aircraft. Jenny gets one of you leaning out the door leg up against the side of the plane. All throughout she is giving you cues on facial expressions,

"Give me cute, sexy, think of Jake," to help guide the shoot. She takes a few shots of you at the controls, including one of you sitting on the tiny dash, one leg spread wide and the other tastefully covering yourself.

You're about to wrap up the bomber shots when you have an idea. Grabbing Jake's bomber jacket you strip off the red dress so you're naked under the jacket, but still wearing the underwear, garters, stockings, and heels. Jenny's eye's light up and she gets an idea. She puts you back up on the wing kneeling facing away from her and you drop the jacket off your shoulders showing your naked back. She has you look over your shoulder back at her. Next she has you turn around and pull the jacket out to hold it at the bottom so it is spread across your chest showing the hint of your breasts but no nipple. You lay down with your legs up on the fuselage and do the same pose with the bomber jacket.

You take a deep breath and kneel on the wing and drop the jacket all the way down, baring your breasts for the camera. Jenny quickly takes a few shots with a few adjustments.You get off the plane and she shows you a few shots on her camera and they look amazing. You quickly change into the other outfit. You had managed to find a tight short denim shirt dress that you can unbutton down to show off a red bra with white polka dots. It all matches with your underwear and the bandana, giving you a sexy Rosie the Riveter look.

You head over to a P-51 Mustang and you can see the ideas forming in Jenny's mind. You start with various poses around the propeller. Next you take shots sitting on the wing, sitting in the cockpit, and your favorite looking into the engine compartment holding a wrench like you're going to fix the thing. Finally, you get in place for the big finale. You climb up on the nose and take a few shots astride the nose, cowgirl style from different angles and some side saddle. You finish the shoot with you in front of the green screen doing various Rosie the Riveter poses.

"That's a wrap," Jenny announces triumphantly. Everyone says goodbye and Lydia and you head back to her house so you can get all the makeup off and tame your hair into more of your usual style. Luckily it's started raining, because that will help deal with the hairspray and not cause Jake to be suspicious.

Eventually you get back around 8:30. Jake is lounging on the couch reading a book and looking good as always. He is reading some mystery novel. You lean down and give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Have you figured it out yet? Who's the murderer?" you ask. Jake laughs and looks up to kiss you on the lips,

"Not yet, this one is really good. How did your networking event go?"

"The usual, lots of people I know and some of the same idiots, so a bit good and a bit exhausting. I think I'm going to take a shower, want to join me?"

Jake perks up at the thought and says,

"Definitely, just let me finish this chapter and then I'll be in there to ravish you."

–

You anxiously await the delivery of the proofs from the shoot. Jenny sends you a link to a site where to preview them. You have to wait till out of Jake's vision to take a look at them. You love the way they turned out, Jenny has done a wonderful job editing them, some she has done in black and white, full color, and then selected parts of some she's put in black and white to emphasize the red dress. While you like the Rosie the Riveter ones you really like how the red dress ones and especially the ones of you in Jake's bomber jacket turned out. You select the ones you want printed into a book, digital prints, and a few other items.

A few days before Jake's birthday, you give him a heads up that he might want to come home a bit early on his birthday.

"Anything special you have planned?" he asks.

"You'll see, just be patient. Dinner reservation is at 7, so if you head home around 4ish, that should give us enough time," you tease him.

It's finally the day of his birthday and you get to give him his gift. You work from home so you can be done early and get ready. You're ready just a bit before 4 pm.

You slip on Jake's bomber jacket over the red dress outfit and artfully arrange yourself on the armchair opposite the front door for maximum effect. When you hear Jake unlocking the door you strike a pose, legs over one arm of the chair and arms stretched out. Jake's jacket is slumped down off your shoulders allowing as much bare skin as possible. Jake comes in the door fiddling with his keys and turns directly to the shoe rack where he starts taking off his boots. He hasn't seen you yet, you can tell. You inhale sharply when you realize he's wearing his flight suit and not his khakis, something about his flight suit makes him even more irresistible than normal. His boots are finally off and he calls out,

"El, I'm home," as he starts to scan the house for you. He finally turns and he sees you.

"Welcome home, Jake," you purr, as you raise one leg and slide your hands down, presumably fixing your stocking.

Jake wolfishly grins as he walks toward you. He catches your foot in the air and gives the inside of your ankle a kiss as he slides his hands down your calf.

"This is way better than a surprise party," he says mostly to your leg he is caressing.

You laugh,

"You thought I was going to throw you a surprise party?," he nods,

"Oh no, I want the birthday boy all to myself."

He is now skimming his lips down your leg and his hand on the back of your leg moves to explore what exactly you have on. He feels the bows and lace tops to the stockings and he raises his eyebrows.

"Stockings, had to be authentic to the era" you stutter out, distracted by his hands.

You stand up and Jake is quick to embrace and kiss you. It is a kiss that starts sweet and grows into one filled with heat. Jake slides his hands down the satin of your dress to give your ass a good squeeze. The motion pulls a throaty moan out of you and Jake takes advantage to slide his tongue into your mouth. You wrap your arms around Jake, enjoying the feeling of his broad shoulders and the gentle scrape of his five o'clock shadow on your chin. He reaches into the bomber jacket and brushes his hand on the naked skin of your back. He pushes the jacket off you to get a full look at your outfit.

"Wow, you look amazing, babe. You remembered my comments from that air show."

You do a little turn for him to see everything.

"I wish I could take a picture to remember this forever," he says as he starts to kiss down your neck.

You're momentarily distracted by his lips, and finally stutter out,

"Funny you say that. You should open the gift on the table."

He pouts a little and says,

"I am unwrapping my gift."

"It'll be worth your while," you manage to say, suppressing a moan as his hand touches the skin between your stockings and your dress.

He reluctantly pulls away to sit down on the couch and picks up the wrapped box on the table. You sit next to him, buzzing with anticipation. Jake unwraps the gift with surprising patience. Pulling open the black box lid he pulls out a leather bound picture album.

"What's this?" he asks you, slightly confused.

"Look inside," you urge him.

He flips open the cover and sees where you have inscribed it.

I know that in any time and place we would fall in love. Happy Birthday, the first of many we will celebrate together.

My Darling Jake,

Always Yours,

Elsa

He reads the message and kisses you before turning the page. He turns to the next page and sees the photo where you are astride the Mustang in the Rosie the Riveter outfit. The next one is you with the engine open, your hand on your hip holding a wrench flipping skirt up to show off your underwear and your finger on your chin with a confused look on your face.

Jake laughs,

"You of all people would probably know how to fix an aircraft engine."

The next shot is you laying on the wing on your back looking back at the camera, your polka dot bra and cleavage clearly visible.

"That's my usual view of you. The first night at the Hard Deck I couldn't stop staring down your dress. One advantage of you being short," Jake teases.

You give him a fake slap on his bicep, "You are incorrigible."

"Yes, but I think you like it," he retorts back, leaning in to steal another kiss before looking back to the album.

There are a few more from the Mustang and Jake takes his time to admire each one and then he flips the page to the first of the red dress shots. The first shot is you leaning out the door with one leg hiked up on the door frame. Next is one where you are on the wing laying down your stomach, your legs up behind you, red heels popping against the silver of the B-29.

There's one of you sitting on the wing, legs dangling. Jake turns the page to see the photo of you sitting on the dash of the cockpit, one leg splayed out and the other tucked in to provide some modesty.

"You would have been slightly distracting on the flight deck," he jokes.

Next is your favorite shot of the session, you are leaning against the fuselage just wearing his bomber jacket and the lingerie looking coquettishly at the camera. The jacket covering just enough that the round swell of your breasts peaks out of the jacket. Jenny captured your expression perfectly. The final shot that is printed is the one of you kneeling on the wing leaning with your back facing the camera, the bomber jacket down at your elbows showing off your back. You are looking back at the camera with a knowing smile.

"This one I really like, now I'd know why my jacket smelt like you the last time I wore it. You sneaked off with it. Where did you get these done, babe? They're gorgeous," Jake asks, kissing you on the cheek.

"I called in a few favors, I know someone over at the air and space museum. I've got one more gift for you."

Jake smiles and starts to pull you into his lap ready for some more sexy times. You push slight on his pec,

"Hold on, flyboy."

You find the back cover where there is a pocket. Quickly slipping your fingers into the pocket you pull out a card and hand it to Jake.

He accepts the card and flips it over to really look at it.

"Holy shit, El," he breathes, taking in the image he's holding.

It's a laminated card of you wearing his bomber jacket and nothing else, completely nude.

"This is for you to tuck into your flight suit. Keep me close to you. For some good luck."

"That's more than good luck, El. God, you like that next to me flying, I'll be invincible."

"That's the idea, Jake."

You put the book down gently on the table and move to straddle Jake.

"I've got more digital files we can look at later, but I think we have other things on our minds, flyboy," you say as a grind down on him feeling him getting hard under you.

"That we do," he answers as pulls your head down for a kiss. It is brief but intense and he kisses his way down your neck pausing to suck a bruise at the base of your neck. He runs his tongue along the edge of the dress cupping your breasts in his hands.

You are trying to find the zipper for his flight suit and whine when you're unsuccessful. He laughs and guides your hand to where the zipper pull is tucked under some fabric. Quickly you unsnap the collar and pull down the zipper to find a black undershirt you still have to deal with to be treated to Jake's magnificent chest. Your hands dive into the flight suit to find the bottom of his undershirt. You grab the hem in an attempt to get Jake undressed. Halfway through the movement you realize that it's caught on Jake's arms thay are still in his flight suit.

"A little help here? I want you naked, please," you whine.

"So demanding," Jake laughs, pulling his arms out of the flight suit and his undershirt off.

"You're really hot in this flight suit, even hotter when it's half off of you," you say in the most sultry way possible as you slide a hand down his chest and abs watching each muscle tense and release under your touch.

Jake leans forward to nuzzle his face into your cleavage and looks up at you. You can't help the smile that blooms across your face when your eyes meet.

He reaches up and pulls the top of the dress down to reveal your breasts to him. Jake is immediately on them, licking, cupping, squeezing. Anything he can touch he is lavishing attention on it. You grind on his lap as he continues his efforts. Sliding your hand up you card your fingers the short hairs at the back of his neck and tug Jake's head up. He rewards you with a little moan as you lean in to kiss him, your tongue slipping into his open mouth. Your hips are still rolling rhythmically as you seek out some friction for your rapidly heating core.

Jake's hands run up and down your side, gliding on the satin. He settles his hands on your hips and and pushes up your dress from where it has rucked up exposing your thighs and the top of the stockings. Jake trails a hand from your hip across the top of your thigh and down between your legs, fingers teasing with a light touch. The dress is just covering enough that Jake can't see your pussy. You look at his face in anticipation to wait for the moment he realizes you're not wearing any underwear. He clenches his jaw when he puts it together,

"God damn, El. You're going to kill me. No underwear."

His fingers ghost over your mound and part your folds to gently stroke your clit,

"You've been ready to fuck me since I walked in the door. You got my flight suit all wet, you're so ready to go."

You lift your hips enough to see that indeed you have left a dark spot of your wetness on the green fabric stretched across his hard cock.

"Fuck, Jake," you whine as you sit back down and rub yourself against the coarse fabric seeking some relief,

"You do that to me, been thinking about fucking you all day, barely kept myself together. Wanted to use my hands, but knew it would be better with your cock in me when I came."

Jake's hands have slipped to your ass where he has pulled up the dress to reveal the smooth skin there, he grips hard as you talk.

"Thought about how you'd touch yourself looking at my pictures. Your big cock in your hand jerking off," you pant out between each cycle of your hips. Jake roughly pulls your head down to give you a solid, dirty kiss, his hand tangled in your hair. You moan loudly at the action. Your hips have sped up as you grind against Jake seeking your high, your clit dragging across the green fabric.

"Let me hear how much you want it, El," Jake moans into your mouth as your hands tighten on his shoulders. Your orgasm is hurtling towards you, Jake urging you on with his hands on your ass helping to guide you.

"Let go, El. Come for me. Get my flight suit all wet. So desperate for me, you're humping me before I even get my dick out. My needy little slut."

He punctuates the last word with two hard slaps with his big hands on your ass breaking your peak over you.

Your hands are scrabbling at Jake's chest for somewhere to hold as your climax washes over you. You melt into Jake's arms as the aftershocks roll through you. He kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you as you come back to the earth. Once you've caught your breath

Jake grips your hips and lifts you up to reveal his lap.

"El, god damn, look at that," he says pointing down to the large wet spot on his flight suit. A flush of embarrassment creeps across your face for some reason. Jake picks up on your change of mood.

"So fucking amazing, El. Fuck that's hot," he says, mostly into your mouth as he pulls your head down for another intense kiss. Your embarrassment quickly dissipating. He pulls his head back, his teeth lightly dragging on your lower lip.

Jake's hands grip your hips and spins you around with ease so that you are kneeling on the couch, hands on the back of sofa. He is standing behind you smoothing his hands over your ass, the heat of his handprint still lingering on each cheek. Soft lips startle you as Jake sweetly kisses each patch of skin. The gentle thud of his knees hitting the hardwood floor clues you into his next move. You start to squirm with anticipation knowing how good he is with his mouth.

"Eager, El?" Jake asks, parting your cheeks revealing your dripping slit to his gaze. Without warning he dives in, his tongue sliding inside you in one deep motion and his fingers coming up to gently tease at your sensitive clit.

"You're dripping, baby. Your needy little cunt can't wait to have my cock inside, can you?" he asks in a slightly mocking tone as he stands up, keeping his fingers on your clit.

Words are beyond you as he menacingly rubs close but not directly on your clit. The sound of the rest of the zipper on his flight suit being unzipped and the soft rustle of fabric being pushed against skin fills the air. He leans over his chest skin on skin to your back, he sweeps your hair past my ear so he can whisper,

"You ready for more, El?"

"Please," you surprise yourself with how desperate you sound.

Jake leans back and you wait on edge for him to enter you. You gasp when he pulls on the garter belt and snaps it against your skin on your ass. The pain is turning you on even more.

"Jake, please fuck me," you plead.

Another sharp sound rings out as he snaps your garter belt on the other cheek; it draws out a long moan and another plea.

"Please, please fuck me," you plead, begging, your voice going hoarse at the end.

"Shh, shh, I've got you," Jake coos as he soothingly caresses your ass. He finally relents and slowly pushes his cock into you. A wave of relief washes over as the slow stretch as he enters you is so good. You can only let out a long breathy moan in response. He bottoms out and pauses for a brief moment before pulling back and plunging in again, hard. You brace against the couch as Jake's hands latch onto your hips. He snaps his hips in and out and sets an almost brutal pace.

"So good, El. Fuck, look at you," he pants out with each thrust, occasionally snapping your garter belt. Jake places his hand on your shoulder and pulls you up against his chest. He keeps up his pace in the new position and he is hitting new spots inside you that are turning your brain into jelly. Jake slides his hand down to rub your clit as he whispers wonderful things to you,

"You take my cock so well, El. Feel you nice and tight. Want to feel come on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby? Come for me? Be my good girl? Hmm?"

"Yes, please," you pant out more than speak.

Jake switches his rhythm on your clit and you come apart hard clenching around Jake, nearly collapsing with the intensity. Jake is holding you up as he thrusts chasing his release, the obscene sound of your wet cunt taking him filling the room. His last few thrusts lose their perfect rhythm as he gets close.

"Oh fuck," is all he can he shout out before he spills inside you. His release adding to all the wetness dripping out of you. Jake's arms wrap around you as you catch your breath. The gentle kisses Jake is placing up your shoulder and neck relax you even more.

"You are unbelievably sexy, El. Thank you for this amazing birthday gift, all of it," he breathes into your neck where he has tucked his face. You turn your head to catch his lips in a kiss before you seperate. Standing fully up you look at Jake and say before sweetly giving him a kiss and a wink,

"You're welcome, flyboy. It was pleasurable for all."

You catch the time on the clock on the wall and let Jake know,

"It's time to get ready for dinner."

"Only if you're on the menu for dessert."

He walks by you still looking ravenous and whispers,

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

#top gun maverick #hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #top gun smut #jake seresin smut

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urnooboo · 7 months

Text

the pleasant-montefalcos :)

#pleasant legacy #pleasantgen4 #ambrose pleasant #roman pleasant #esteban montefalco #lydia pleasant #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 11 months

Text

Last Dragonborn: The Jarl asked for a favour, and, in the spirit of goodwill, I agreed.

Lydia: What did you get out of it?

Last Dragonborn: Nothing.

Lydia: What did you get out of it apart from nothing?

Last Dragonborn: Money.

#i want money power and glory #oc: leara roseblade #oc: aurora orianus #last dragonborn #dovahkiin #lydia #housecarl #balgruuf the greater #jarl balgruuf #whiterun #nerevar queue and star #incorrect quotes #incorrect elder scrolls #incorrect skyrim quotes #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #source: skulduggery pleasant

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erythriina · 2 months

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so @wllipt and @stolperzunge s terror daemon au has taken up residence in my brain and is paying zero rent

I also grew up with cats and know a good amount abt housecat behavior. Cats ‘allogroom’, which is social cleaning between members of the same species. It’s a bonding activity, and also a reflection/reinforcement of social hierarchy; older cats will usually be the ones grooming younger cats, etc. Housecats will also frequently groom their humans (my cat did this all the time, it is not an exceedingly pleasant sensation when you don’t have fur and they’re just nibbling/using their sandpaper tongue on your skin, but it was out of love so I usually let her do it lol).

So anyway I can’t stop thinking about Jopson’s daemon, a Siamese cat named Lydia, grooming the other daemons, specifically Little’s little mole Cornelia. Lydia pins her down by the tail and everyone is like LYDIA NO WTF but she’s just aggressively trying to get the ice and dirt and dust out of Cornelia’s fur bc holy shit, how do you manage to get just as disheveled as your human when you’ve barely got any fur and you’re the size of a dinner roll, hang on just hold still—

And also. When Crozier is going through withdrawal, at one point, Lydia hops up on the bed with him and settles down beside his head on the pillow, and proceeds to gently lick at his hair like an adult cat might do for a kitten. Crozier, not entirely lucid and not thinking, fumblingly reaches up and gives her a little scritch between the ears. She sits by him and purrs. They don’t talk about it afterward.

(When Jopson is dying, and Crozier is telling him the story about the cow, his daemon Aislin cautiously settles on Jopson’s head and begins awkwardly but sincerely lovingly preening his hair like she would preen her own feathers. Obviously Jopson does not have feathers and so it’s not entirely comfortable (sharp beak!) and so instead she tucks herself under Jopson’s chin and makes soft little happy bird noises—not because she’s happy, but in an attempt to soothe him.)

#mine #the terror amc #the terror #a little bit of #joplittle #for those interested (me)#thomas jopson #edward little #francis crozier

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youre-ackermine · 9 months

Note

Hello Val and congratulations for 300 followers 🥳💕

Love your blog lovely Val!!! I know you're into levihan BUT for the event can I request some pikuhan NSFW? If you don't mind of course! 🙏

Modern Actor AU behind the scenes where they're both actresses would be great OR Journalist Pieck interviewing AOT Actress Hanji. Whatever your choice things heat up between them 😏 You can listen to Alyson Stoner's "Fool" and Baum's "Hot Water" for inspo 💕

Feel free to ignore this request if that makes you uncomfortable (it'd make me sad though but I understand if it's not your cup of tea😢)

TYSM 💕💕

Hey lovely anon ✨

I'm glad you like my blog!

Thank you so much for sending me this request. Writing a Pikuhan drabble was a challenge but I didn't want to make you sad so here it is! I hope you'll like it ✨

Thanks for my beta/proof reader Terra @dont-f-with-moogles for her help ❤️

Also tagging @smol-lydia 🫶

**********

English is not my usual language

**********

Behind the Scenes

Characters: Hange Zoe / Pieck Finger / Levi Ackerman / Armin Arlert

Pairing: Pikuhan / Levihan

Wordcount: 2100 approx.

Modern setting / Actor AU / Non-binary Hange / Fake dating / Secret relationship

Warnings: NSFW+18 - MDNI / Swearwords

Cheeks blushing hot, Armin was looking out the window on purpose as he tried to ignore the lewd sounds invading the limo. His knuckles turned white from how hard he held his glass and his leg wouldn't stop bouncing from nervousness.

"Tch… Go get a room for fuck's sake! You're embarrassing the kiddo!" Levi rolled his eyes.

The couple pulled away from each other for a second, briefly catching their breaths before diving into their passionate kiss again.

Levi emptied his own flute of expensive, delicious champagne, clicking his tongue appreciatively. Not even minding to hide the smirk on his face, he noticed how Pieck's eyelids slowly fluttered shut, her whole expression uttering bliss as Hange kissed her.

He couldn't blame her. He knew this feeling. He remembered it. He remembered how it felt to taste Hange's lips, he remembered how his skin shivered under their feathery touch. His smile grew wider at the pleasant memory but, before any of them could catch him staring, he decided to look away and focus on adjusting his cufflinks.

The make out session on display seemed never to end, adding embarrassment to the anxiety already building up in Armin's chest before the premiere, making him sweat in agony.

Levi patted Armin's shoulder with affection, drawing a faint smile from him. The young man turned to face him, slightly less flushed than a couple moments before, and straightened his back to regain composure.

"Oi, lovebirds! We'll be there in a few minutes. We can't afford to get out of the limo so fucking disheveled, do we? So get your shit together and wipe the spit out of your faces, you're literally glistening!" Levi blurted out after a brief glance at his watch.

The lovers reluctantly parted, already longing for each other. Pieck quickly pulled out a fancy compact mirror and some lipstick from her velvet purse to touch up her makeup.

Hange turned to Levi with a beaming grin unfortunately stained by the intense kiss. Levi leaned over to them, pulling out a clean handkerchief out of nowhere and rubbing the purple lipstick off their face and lips.

"Look at your sorry ass, idiot!" he uttered in a soft voice, kneeling in front of them, his hands now tangled in Hange's messy locks in an attempt to make them look less tousled.

Hange chuckled and he smiled fondly.

"What is it, Four-Eyes?"

"We owe you big time, Shorty," they said, tenderly brushing their palm on his cheek. "Sorry to put you in such an awkward position but we can't do otherwise for now, you know." Their eyes shone with endearment as they added "thank you so so much, you're so kind Levi!"

He averted his gaze, embarrassed as always when they showed him their deep, genuine affection. He took their hand in his, placed a quick peck on their wrist and exhaled deeply to get rid of the accumulating stress. The limo finally stopped and the car door clicked. Pieck blew a kiss to Hange who mouthed "I love you" in response.

"Let's do this!" Levi exclaimed as he stepped out on the red carpet, gently dragging Hange behind him. The flashes dazzled them but their faces wore a radiant smile as Levi pulled Hange into him by their waist, both looking left and right to allow the crowd to take proper pictures of their idols.

Holding hands, they glamorously reached and climbed the stairs, stopping at the top with Pieck and Armin to wave one last time. They finally entered the luxurious hotel.

The worst part was over.

The 'Paradis/Marley Alliance' actors shared a large round table almost deserted by now. Half the cast was on the dancefloor, twirling under the huge crystal chandeliers.

The meal had been delicious, taken in good company and they were actually sitting side by side. Pieck couldn't be happier than in this very moment as Hange discreetly held her hand in theirs under the table and their shoulders brushed ever so slightly. She didn't dare look at her lover's handsome face but she could breathe in their earthy scent, a scent that never failed to make her blush with desire.

All of a sudden, Hange's hand slipped out of her grasp as Levi helped them get up from their chair. The music was so loud they had to lean down to whisper in her ear.

"Levi and I are going to dance for a while. Showing off as usual, of course." They winked at her and left a light peck on her earlobe, raising goosebumps on her skin. "Meet me in fifteen minutes in the library down the hall, Gorgeous."

They clung to their so-called boyfriend's arm and left with a light chuckle. Pieck's gaze followed the couple on their way to the dancefloor. They looked so good together, dancing gracefully, almost sensually. No wonder everybody thought they were still dating.

She couldn't help letting out a gasp as she realized Hange had a type. Levi and Pieck didn't look so different physically but there was a huge difference though: he was their best friend and she was the love of their life.

Levi had been nothing but the most amazing friend, helping them hide their relationship. They were lucky enough that the brief romance between Hange and him never broke their strong friendship and made the whole fake dating performance believable. They couldn't afford to be uncovered, at least not while most of the new Attack on Titan's promotion revolved around the famous and glamorous 'LeviHan' couple as it had been for several years now.

Exhausted by a week of interviews and photoshoots, Pieck dozed off a bit as she let her thoughts wander for a while. Until the boisterous yet gorgeous laughter she could recognize anywhere snapped her out of her daydream.

She held her breath and her heart skipped a beat as soon as her eyes opened again and spotted Hange's slim figure, head thrown back as they chortled in Levi's arms probably at yet another poop joke of his.

The loud pounding in her chest echoed through her whole body when she took in the enchanting sight. Their black satin suit hugged Hange's thin curves perfectly, highlighting their endless legs, their elegant shoulders and their firm ass. Their jacket barely covered the sun-kissed skin showing off in the absence of a shirt.

Her face felt hot all of a sudden, and her hands started to sweat as she watched the way Levi pulled Hange flush against his chest, the way his hand lingered on the small of their back then slipped surreptitiously down to their ass. She wished she could do this herself, in front of everyone. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, nervously licking her lips and closed her eyes for a second. She resolved to head her way to the library to end the torture.

Silence was most welcome as she entered the cool room. The dim light of a few table lamps provided an intimate atmosphere to the library, something cozy also brought by the large leather sofas arranged in front of the fireplace. She let out a weary sigh and crossed a few steps to a bookshelf, looking for something to read while waiting. Her choice fell on a collection of love poems that she started to read right away, not even bothering to sit down.

She was so engrossed in her reading that neither did she hear the door slowly opening nor the light footsteps approaching behind her.

"I'm finally here, Gorgeous."

Pieck flinched when Hange's deep voice whispered in her ear as they wrapped their arms around her waist, pressing against her back, and kept her in a warm embrace. She closed her eyes and leaned back on their chest with a sigh.

"I missed you so much, Love," she whined, "I hate it when I must hide while Levi is caressing your ass in public… It's not fair! It's mine, not his!"

Her lips tentatively curled in a cute pout but she knew there was no point in complaining. Well, she just couldn't help it. It made her feel better.

Something else never failed to make Pieck feel better and it was as if Hange could read her mind. As they delicately brushed a strand of hair off her neck, she tilted her head for them to kiss the sensitive spot below her ear. Her soft skin shivered under the light touch of their lips.

"You're right, Gorgeous, I'm all yours," they replied in a low, sultry voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

Hange's hands wandered over her purple dress, slightly stroking her toned belly up to her chest as they kissed their way down her neck. Pieck managed to bite back a moan at how their warm breath and soft pecks felt deliciously tickling on her skin.

But seconds later she couldn't help but whimper when they sneaked a hand under the velvety fabric, cupping one of her breasts, grazing their thumb over the perky nipple. Pieck felt heat pooling down her belly and turned around, a light shade of pink flecking her cheeks.

Pressing her chest against Hange's, she opened her eyes and wrapped her arms around their neck to make them lean down. They gazed at each other, Pieck marveling at her lover's handsome features before her lips ghosted over theirs for a brief moment. She let her delicate fingers run through their brown hair as they tenderly stroked her back. Then, finally, their lips joined in a soft, gentle kiss.

Oh. It definitely felt like heaven. She relished in the slow motion of their mouth against hers, closing her eyes at the overwhelming sensation of warmth blooming in her chest, letting her whole body surrender to the intoxicating touch.

Her mind went dizzy when Hange licked along her lower lip and nibbled at it, eliciting a low moan from her. She parted her lips and their tongue gently slipped into the welcoming wetness of her mouth and their hot breaths mingled as they deepened the kiss. This was nothing but pure bliss.

They made out more passionately and Hange's hands traveled down her body, prickling goosebumps all over her skin, leaving her weak in the knees.

Without breaking the kiss, they both took a few slow steps to reach a couch until she bumped into its edge. Pieck lay down on the cushions and Hange drew back just enough to take in the stunning view beneath them.

"Perfect! You're so perfect!" they uttered in a breath, their pupils black with want still raking over her body.

Pieck blushed but held their gaze. She licked her lips, breath still uneven heaving her chest, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

Hange hovered over her, covering her face with wet, soft pecks. They kissed along her jawline while they caressed her over the fabric down to her thighs, one hand finally sliding its way through the slit of her dress. Her eyelids flickered and she breathed heavily under the sensual contact, her heart pounding faster in anticipation.

Pieck yearned for more of their touch. Unable to bear the wait any longer, she weaved her hands behind their head to draw them closer and captured their mouth in a heated kiss, pressing her body tightly against theirs.

Pieck trembled as their palm brushed the soft, silky skin of her thigh, her loud moans vibrating into both their throats when their fingers finally rubbed the wet patch on her lace underwear.

A sudden knock at the door snapped them out of their blissful haze. They lingered in their dazed reverie for a few confused seconds before another knock, sharper this time, definitely broke the spell.

"Oi, Four-Eyes! The fuck are you doing? No time for your pussy-licking shit or whatever!" Levi's voice was muffled from the other side of the door.

"Always so romantic and sophisticated, Shorty!"

Hange let out a heavy sigh, frowning their brows in annoyance.

"Five more minutes, Levi darling! Please!" they yelled.

"Fucking hell, no! Some bastard noticed we're not dancing anymore and shit's going to happen soon if you don't drag your sorry ass in here, Hange! We're supposed to go upstairs in "our" room to fake shag, remember?"

"Shit! You're right, Shorty!" they ranted before getting up, tugging at their crumpled suit.

Pieck rolled her eyes and puffed with exasperation.

"Ok, Gorgeous! Meet you in your room in ten?" they asked.

Hange didn't even wait for her answer. They kissed her lips with a smile and joined Levi in the hallway.

Mood board: @youre-ackermine

Glitter divider: @firefly-graphics

Yellow divider: @saradika

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theunderestimator-2 · 1 year

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Wish they all could be California girls: Pleasant Gehman looking cool when punk was not considered cool, here in San Francisco on a trip to see Blondie play at Winterland in 1978, as captured by Theresa Kereakes.

Author, artist, poet, dancer and witch Pleasant Gehman has called Los Angeles home since the ‘70s and she has lived the type of life that one would have to be there to believe. In early 1978, along with her best friend from high school, the late Randy Kay, she started punk rock fanzine Lobotomy -and did it for all the right reasons:

“The main reason we wanted to start a fanzine was so we could get free records and get into shows. We took our title from The Ramones song “Teenage Lobotomy”.

Since punk was a totally underground subculture, when we were working on Lobotomy, we never had to deal with agents, managers or major record companies-we had access to everyone in the bands themselves. Our friends were in bands, or we’d meet bands who were friends of friends, or simply call a hotel where a band we liked was staying (usually the Tropicana Motel or The Continental Hyatt House on Sunset, which was known locally as “The Riot House”) We’d ask the band if they’d want to hang out, go record or thrift store shopping or take them to a gig, and interview them. Most of the time, we became fast friends. We were semi-delinquent teenagers who hung out with and interviewed artists who later became known as the groundbreaking stars of the late 20th Century.

And since no one was on guard and absolutely nothing was being filtered through a publicist, those interviews were extremely candid and totally wild. For example, Brian Tristan aka Kid Congo and I interviewed Lydia Lunch while she and her new husband Johnny O’Kane were in bed having sex; Theresa and I interviewed Blondie while crammed into the tiny bathroom in Theresa’s apartment during a raging party, while all of us were high on Quaaludes and beer.

I probably don’t need to tell you that shit like that just doesn’t happen any more, right?”

pleasantgehman.blogspot.com/

(via)

#pleasant gehman #punk #early punk scene #punk rock #fanzine #lobotomy #los angeles #people

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jjsstars · 10 months

Text

feel safe — posted on my ao3 | 1.7k word count

|| tags : pre slash theo/scott, theo has a bad past, melissa mccall & theo raeken, theo is part of the pack, angst

Theo’s hands shake by his sides as he stands outside the McCall household, having already knocked once on the door, only once. If nobody comes then he’ll climb back into his car and drive to the woods and park somewhere random to sleep, he doesn’t want to push anyone to let him stay with them. He still doesn’t feel right about calling himself part of the pack, they’ve all assured him, even Stiles, that he is now. That he has earned his spot and has changed for the better.

The door creaks when it opens to Melissa standing at the threshold, she’s in pajama pants and a loose long sleeve, Theo suddenly gets scared he woke her. It’s only seven o’clock but maybe she had a long shift at the hospital and turned in early, he’d feel awful if her sleep got interrupted by him.

“Theo? Scott isn’t in right now, is everything alright?” She’s really asking if anything supernatural happened, it hasn’t. The town has been quiet and fairly normal since everything that happened ended.

“Everything’s okay, I was just..” His heart rate spike, he feels dumb for asking this, for wanting more from Scott and his family when he’s already taken so much.

“Do you think I could sleep on your couch tonight? Or- or the floor, I’m not picky, and- and it’s okay if you say no. I can sleep in my car, I’ll be fine, I don’t want to pressure you or anything-.” He stops when Melissa’s face falls to something Theo’s only ever seen her direct at Scott or Stiles, it’s motherly.

A concerned crinkle in her brow as her lips press together into a thin tight line and her eyes turn softer, bigger, worried. Theo doesn’t know what to do with this look being directed at him, his own mother, his real one, never showed this much emotion on her face. It was always stone cold stares and disgusted tsks at Theo and Taras actions, the women never had patience for children, neither did his father. Theo squirms under the gaze of Melissa before she’s pulling him inside by his shoulder.

“I was just watching a movie if you want to join me, or you can wait for Scott in his room.” He nods along silently as he toes his boots off at the door, his parents weren’t good at the whole maternal thing, but they taught him house manners.

“What are you watching?” There’s a blanket thrown atop Melissa’s lap and a cup of tea with steam still spilling off the top on the coffee table. Theo’s careful not to bump into the table as he sits himself beside Melissa, not too close, but enough that his nose can pick up on the fresh lavender lotion she has on. She must’ve just sat down when he showed up.

“The princess and the frog.” She says and leans to retrieve the remote and a book from the table, her book has a card sticking out of the top, she’s halfway through it. The cover is a navy blue with gold letters, it’s cursive and Theo can’t quite catch it from this angle, but the book looks old and worn so it must be good. He assumes it’s something romantic, he remembers Scott mentioning his mom reading a lot of “cheesy” romance novels.

“I’ve never seen it.” It’s animated which isn’t what he was expecting but it’s a pleasant surprise. Animated usually means it won’t be something scary, that’s what Lydia told him at the last pack movie night, they watched some superhero movie that Malia and Stiles wanted to see, Theo doesn’t remember most of it since he fell asleep halfway through. He just knows he prefers the non-scary movies, he’s seen enough horror and gore in his life, he’d rather watch something with a happy ending.

“Really? It’s a childhood classic.” He isn’t sure how to tell Melissa that he hasn’t seen most ‘childhood classics’ and that it doesn’t stop at just movies. He hasn’t read the books the others talk about, hasn’t seen the shows and movies, never had the toys and accessories they mention. His house was never made to fit children, that’s how he sees it at least. His mother and father always had guests coming over and didn’t have time to clean up toys that Tara and Theo left lying about, and they didn’t have time to change the channel from a kids show to something adult. Theo and Tara were left to their own devices and told to stay away from the guests, to not embarrass their parents. Theo remembers spending a lot of time drawing and listening to Tara make up story’s from thin air.

“I haven’t seen a lot of movies.” Theo’s missed out on a lot of pop culture, more than he’d like to admit, but he’s trying to catch up and cue into things that the other teens talk about. Lydia said they’d watch Ariel, a movie she was obsessed with as a child and Theo hasn’t seen, so that way he could understand the songs she sings under her breath when she works with her hands. The pack have been kind about Theo’s lack of knowledge in certain things, the same way they’re kind about things Malia misses, he appreciates it more than they’ll probably ever know.

“Scott mentioned something like that. I think you’ll like this one, everyone does.” He nods along and looks at the Tv, Melissa has her book open and he doesn’t want to seem rude by staring at her as she reads.

“What’s it about?” The characters and art style are upbeat in a way, a simple color palette, it’s easy to tell this is a kids movie.

“A princess and a frog.” A small laugh comes from both of them. Theo likes how easy it is to talk to Melissa, to smile with her, it reminds him of when he talks to Scott. He never realized how much Scott’s like his mother but now that he’s sitting beside her it seems obvious.

They both have a warmth to them. It bleeds into their house, Theo always feels comforted and mellow in the McCall home, there’s never any worry about having to perform or keep up a reputation when he’s here. It even smells like home, a soft and sweet smell, none of the sour and harsh smell from his parents house. It doesn’t reek of strong chemical cleaners or three sprays too much of an expensive perfume, instead he’s hit with the scent of Scott and Melissa. It’s natural, gentle, no lingering tension or blood rapidly cleaned off the walls. He sinks into the feeling their house provides, the safety and security that he can put his guard down.

He isn’t sure how much times passes but he’s shaken awake by somebody’s hand on his shoulder. His head is leaned against Melissas shoulder, her sleep shirt is velvety on his cheek, he can hear every even breath she takes and hear how she murmurs something to whoever is standing in front of them. Theo doesn’t want to move, he likes being close to someone like this, it’s tranquil, something he doesn’t get to feel often. He wants to savor it.

“C’mon Theo I’ll take you upstairs, you can sleep in my bed.” Scott, his brain recognizes. His arms outstretch to Scott without a second thought, he thinks he’d die if anyone else saw this, but Scott only laughs, he sounds just like Melissa.

Arms wrap around Theo quickly, one hooking under his knees and the other around his back, Scott hefts him up with ease. It’s no surprise with his werewolf strength, Theo thinks Scott would try to carry him even without it. That’s just the kind of person he is, the kind of person Theo wishes he could be. He admires how Scott always tries to help his pack, even back when Theo was under the influence of the dread doctors, he still saw through the haze of their control and had respect for Scott. For how he acted, talked, he always had so much regard for people's emotions and wanted to find the correct way to solve a situation, not just a way, but the one that took into consideration everyone’s feelings and how they’d be impacted by it.

“Scott?” He asks once they reach Scott’s bed, he can feel how Scott stops at the bed frame hitting his shins.

“Yeah Theo?” All the attentiveness in the world shows in McCalls words, two simple words and Theo feels his chest go tight. How can someone care for him like this? After everything, he doesn’t deserve to be cared about, yet Scott does.

“Thank you.” Theo could spend a decade telling Scott thank you for everything he’s ever done and it wouldn’t feel enough. There’s nothing that could fully portray how much Scott means to Theo, how much value Scott’s come to hold.

“I’ll carry you to bed any day Theo.” It’s spoken like a secret, a whisper tone, so delicate Theo can’t help but cling his arms harder around Scott. His face tucks into Scotts neck, breathing him in, reminding himself that this isn’t some big dream and that it’s real.

“You make me feel safe, your house and your mom and just, you. I’m not afraid when I’m here.” He uses the same whisper that Scott did in hopes that Scott will take in every word. Theo can’t believe he’s being so vulnerable, so fragile, he thinks Scott understands.

“I’ll always be here to protect you.” Scott moves to lay them both down on the bed with Theo still held in his arms, like breaking the position would just be too painful. Theo appreciates it, and how Scott starts to scratch his hand up and down Theo’s back, it’s absentminded and Theo can tell Scott doesn’t realize he’s doing it. He just is, always giving that extra level of care.

“I know.” It’s the truth. He does. He always has, even when things were messy and Theo was the one in the wrong, Scott still would’ve protected him if he needed it, it’s not a question for Scott. He’ll always protect people who need it, Theo loves him for it.

#teen wolf #theo raeken #scott mccall #melissa mccall #pre slash #sceo #theo x scott #theo raeken x scott mccall #melissa mccall & theo raeken #<< I will fill that goddamn tag #jj writes #jj moodboards

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