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teencopandthesourwolf · 3 months ago

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FUCK IT FRIDAY

i was tagged by the lovely @demonicfaerie (thanks, fae!) to share a current WIP so here's some of a mild blood kink slash beta shift derek slash frotting in the forest PWP kind of fic. it has the terribly imaginative working title of 'BLOODY MONSTER FUCKER STILES FULL MOON FIC' lmao.

this excerpt is SFW.

It's a balmy Tuesday evening in April when Derek realises he wants to taste Stiles's blood.

The notion comes to him not as some strange intrusive thought, or a guilty dream, or Anne Rice-induced moment of madness, but at the first scent and sight of it trickling down pale wrist bone and two large knuckles, to then drip from the tips of the boy's spider leg fingers.

Having neutralised the threat of what they thought might be a Vigilantes Oscuros but actually turned out to be a rogue Nagual, and once Derek satisfies himself by checking over and scenting the rest of the pack who are thankfully all mostly unscathed, he stalks over to where Stiles is standing, his chest heaving with the aftermath of their victory.

“Hey, big guy, d'you wanna—”

He trails off when Derek takes the bleeding arm in both of his hands. He lifts Stiles's shirt sleeve and—sighing with relief at the injury being merely a flesh wound—begins to syphon off most of Stiles's pain, to which Stiles answers by seemingly sighing his own breath of relief.

Derek hesitates for one thrilling moment—before he's opening his mouth, only to close it again when he clamps it gently around the sticky mess of Stiles's skin, Alpha-gaze never leaving big brown Bambi eyes that are shining with the godly reflection of the full moon.

As he does it, Stiles's own mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Surprisingly, the only other thing he has to offer Derek is an uncharacteristically quiet and breathy “Oh,” which Derek boldly takes as permission to start sucking at Stiles's skin, delighting at the gooey texture and unique flavour of the blood that overwhelms his tongue and taste buds and feelings.

It's all at once that he hears Isaac’s wolf-whistle and Scott's, “Ew!” and Allison's, “Um?” and Lydia's, “Told you,” that she aims at Jackson who just scoffs, and Derek doesn't need to be looking at Boyd to know that Boyd is looking at Erica to try and convince her not to smugly say, “You owe me twenty dollars, babe,” which she obviously says anyway.

Derek growls, then, loud enough to feel Stiles's trembling in his teeth, and for the rest of the gossipy pack to shuffle off through the trees before Derek can threaten to make them shuffle off this mortal coil if they don't.

Stiles's ever-sharp eyes—which had been darting about faster than the dragonflies that buzz down by the lake, his gaze landing on one figure and then the next as Derek's irritating pack let their irritating thoughts on the situation be irritatingly known—now gradually find their way back to Derek's.

Derek is watching Stiles, carefully. He's transfixed, actually, has been for the entirety of the ongoing exchange. He honestly doesn't believe he could look away if he tried.

Bronze eyes blown wide, Stiles now licks at unbearably pink lips, slowly, his cheeks doing their best to match the hue.

Taking the action for what he hopes it is, Derek starts to suck at the boy's skin some more, sampling his prize—before he's having to pause to swallow the pool of tangy red that's gathered underneath his tongue.

Then he knows, deliciously, that Stiles's treacly blood tastes like sodium and iron, but also like fresh earth and dew drops and mine.

When the kid's heart picks up the pace to a speed even more Springbok than usual, Derek releases the vacuum of his claret-tinged lips with a resonating pop. The sound echoes defiantly around the small glade in the northern part of the preserve they're standing in, and Derek's wolf prances and preens.

The moon is singing to him as he waits impatiently, preparing to be challenged on what the human probably thinks of as shockingly beastly behaviour.

Only Stiles doesn't challenge it. He doesn't say anything at all, weirdly, opting instead to brutally gnaw on that unbearably plump bottom lip of his, shiny eyes misting over as his chemo-signals spike and morph into something smoky-sweet that reminds Derek of incense and trailing mandevilla and sex.

Derek's vision shudders for a beat as his synapses start firing ten to the dozen—causing his eyes to flash impossibly redder than red, the glare from them illuminating Stiles's features in the gloom.

It looks, and feels, like magick.

With his mouth watering and gums tingling, Derek perceives Stiles's inaction to mean he's maybe allowed to do the thing he really fucking wants to. So, he decides to try his luck.

Derek starts to lick, cleaning up the scarlet streaks staining Stiles's milky skin.

When the boy's mouth falls open for a breathy sound to punch its way out of what Derek is suddenly considering an incredibly biteable throat, he starts lapping away in earnest at the trails of spilt blood in long and deliberate strokes, flattened tongue running up and down, up and down, washing clean lean muscle and dark hair and those pretty peppered moles, warming the cold pebbles of Stiles's gooseflesh as he goes.

Stiles keeps swallowing the saliva that Derek can hear is flooding his mouth, his breath hitching and hiccuping.

Derek's mouth doesn't form an ‘O’ but his mind does flicker into action with alluring and morish images as his wolf tries to will him to flop bonelessly into the scrub and roll around in the dirt and howl, howl, howl, all wild and feral and fierce. It's urging him for more; pleading with him to try; begging him to cry out with his wants and desires to lead Stiles into the deep, dark indigo of the creeping night where Derek is most at home—and he's really not sure why, but for once in his woefully shitty life Derek just allows himself to think fuck it and do exactly that.

So he howls and breaks the bones of dusk as he selfishly and gleefully drags the sheriff's son down onto the damp, ash-laden ground of his dead family's land.

And Stiles—for all of his usual brashness and caustic pride—lets him.

(tags beneath the cut, play or nay. anybody else who wants to do the thing, pls just consider yourself tagged and have at it!)

@shealynn88 @novemberhush @greyhavenisback @raisesomehale @princecharmingwinks @ohhalefire @blue-eyedbeta @angela-feelstoomuch @evanesdust @jmeelee @thebigoblin @hedwig221b @isthatbloodonhisshirt

#witching hour wip posting!#sterek #sterek wip #sterek fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #blood kink #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf

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iamnotoriginalphil · 4 months ago

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The Halloween Party (Lydia Deetz x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Your friend abandons you at a Halloween party. Luckily for you, you find someone far more interesting to spend the night with.

Words: 4k

Warnings: biting, blood, marking, smut, drug use mentioned, hair pulling, rough sex, mentions of alcohol

The lights and the music were overwhelming. With the tight corset binding your waist and the heels on your feet, you were trying not to look as uncomfortable as you felt. You should have never let your friend convince you to come to the party. You certainly shouldn’t have let her dress you up in something she deemed sexy before abandoning you with to a bunch of strangers.

You didn’t even know whose house you were in.

You perused the snack table, chuckling at the plastic spiders scattered over the bright orange table cloth. Snatching up a handful of chips, you turned, taking in the crowd. Bodies writhed together in time to the music, flashing lights illuminating flashes of skin here, groping hands there. Your cup of red liquid sloshed in your hand as you pushed to the edges of the room, looking for somewhere quieter to perch until you could leave.

The garden was quieter, although hardly empty. Someone had started a small fire, the scent of burning sugar making its way to your nose. Lingering on the outskirts, you curled around it, shivering in the cool air. You were too far for the light and heat to find you, watching the flames flicker between shoulders pressed together and cigarettes being passed from hand to hand. Cloves and smoke and weed, all mixing together with the sharp sweetness of marshmallows burning as they slid off sticks under inattentive cooks.

You lent back against a tree, keeping to the shadows, enjoying the sting of cold air on your bare skin. You tilted your chin up, taking a deep breath that burned your lungs, the stars twinkling high above you, the moon almost new.

“Not your crowd?”

You tried not to show how startled you were. You’d wrongly assumed you were the only one skulking in the shadows, leaving the revelry for the people who had wanted to be at the party. Turning your head, glancing down, you found a pale face full of flickering shadow, the light from the fire playing over it, still staring at the group of people laughing. Dark hair and darker clothes, if anyone belonged to the night, it was this woman.

“Not particularly,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

“Why are you here then?” she asked.

“A friend needed moral support,” you replied, “is this the moment when you tell me this is your party?”

“Fuck no,” she laughed, “my ex thought I needed to get out more.”

“Your ex dragged you to a party?” you asked.

“No. He agreed to take our daughter for the night so I could come. It’s my producer’s party,” she replied.

You considered her a moment. She tipped her head back, leaning it against the rough bark of the tree. A flicker of familiarity went through you but you couldn’t place from where. Like a half remembered dream you’d had once many years ago.

“So why are you hiding from everyone?” you asked.

With face half in shadow, her dark eyes found you, leaving you a little breathless. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the ache of the heels pinching at your toes more a nuisance than anything else. Even in dark she was undoubtably beautiful.

“Who said I’m hiding?” she asked.

“You’re skulking in the shadows. Is there another reason if you’re not hiding?” you asked.

“I suppose not,” she said, her gaze drifting away from you again.

You kept looking down at her, wanting to catch another glimpse of pale skin, dark eyes, lips curling in a scornful smile. She was still staring out at the group by the fire, a guitar having been pulled from seemingly nowhere, the soft chords so discordant with each other. Her nose wrinkled and you had to bite back a laugh. Even her disgruntled expression was compelling.

“Why aren’t you with your friend?” she asked after a few moments of silence.

“What?” you asked, blinking back to the moment.

“You said you came with a friend who needed moral support but now you’re here on your own. What happened?” she asked.

“Oh.” You perked up, “the moral support worked and uh, she abandoned me to go talk to Rick.”

“Rick? Why would she want to talk to Rick?” she asked.

“She called it networking but… I dunno. Do you ever get the feeling that someone is speaking the same language as you but with different meanings?”

You shifted your body, turning it towards her, shoulder resting against the tree. Her head rolled towards you, finally looking at you again. It sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the chilled night air.

“She’s fucking Rick to increase her chances of being in one of his projects,” she said.

“Yeah, which is not how I network but then.” You shrugged, “I don’t work in this industry.”

“You don’t?” Her interest in you seemed to increase.

“I’m in tech,” you replied.

Her interest immediately retreated again. A pang of disappointment went through you.

“I write a lot of code. I test firewalls for companies. Like a contractor. I get to hack into people’s websites,” you said.

That usually impressed people. Usually being the operative word. She couldn’t have cared less.

“So, I guess I just have to wait around until she’s done,” you said, hoping that would get a response.

“Shouldn’t take long,” she snorted.

“Do you… do you know that from personal experience?” you asked.

The look she gave you was so full of disgust you reared back. She didn’t bother trying to school her features, those eyes sweeping over you with a judgemental eye.

“Why are you wearing that?” she asked, derision dripping from every word, “I would have expected your friend was hoping you’d be the honey pot in her plan looking like that.”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t really come with a costume so… she dressed me in her clothes for the party,” you said, looking down at your body.

The tight corset nipping in your waist, the short skirt, the lace showing off your skin more than you were used to, you could understand what she meant. Wrapped up so pretty, and without a bow. You’d had plenty of interested looks as you’d lingered on the outskirts of the crowd. Too bad none of them had enticed you.

And the only one you had was looking at you like you were…

“What are you meant to be?” she asked.

“I’m told I’m a witch, but we didn’t have the hat so I guess it’s a pretty bad costume,” you said, “why? What are you meant to be?”

Your eyes lingered on her. She was hardly in anything you recognised.

“Nothing. I didn’t bother with the costume. My ex is the whiz at all that. I only promised to leave the house for something other than work,” she waved off.

“So this is just how you normally dress?” you asked, eyes doing another sweep over her body.

“Why?” she asked in response.

“It’s cool,” you said.

She seemed to not have an answer to that. She settled back against the trunk of the tree, staring out at the group that had moved on to singing off key but enthusiastically. You sighed, slowly sinking down until you were sitting too. Taking the pressure off your toes, you groaned, tugging the shoes off to massage the sole of your foot.

“Those things are death traps,” she said.

“I’m not exactly enjoying any element of this outfit,” you said.

Her low chuckle was only audible because you were sitting right by her.

“At least it looks good on you,” she said.

“Oh.” It appears as if you were forgiven for your misstep, “thanks.”

“I’m sure Rick would prefer I dress more like that,” she said, “I had to compromise in the end.”

“Why? You look good in what you’re wearing now,” you said.

She turned to look at you, a slow drag of eyes that made you shiver again.

“Call it the misogyny of the entertainment industry, or the creeps who need to want to fuck the woman to pay attention to them, but sex sells,” she said, “I put on the costume and I do the work and I thank them for the opportunity.”

“It doesn’t sound like you like your job that much,” you said.

“It has its upsides,” she said, offering you a small smile, “I get to be on television.”

“I wouldn’t want that. I’ve always felt awkward when a camera is pointed at me,” you said.

She hummed but didn’t give you more of an answer. Her eyes were studying you and you let her, giving her the space to stare at you to her heart’s content. You liked the thought of being looked at by this woman.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” she eventually said.

“Nope.” You popped the p obnoxiously, but smiled to let her know you weren’t making fun of her.

“Lydia.”

She offered you her hand. You took it, the warmth of her skin almost burning yours. Your name fell from your lips, almost breathless from the feeling of her palm against yours. Her lips quirked up, not quite a smirk, but something approaching it. You couldn’t get a read on her, so aloof from the rest of the gathering and yet you had to wonder if she kept away for another reason. People pushing you to go socialise usually meant one of two things. Either you were some kind of hermit who refused to leave the house, or you didn’t like going to social gatherings. Which spoke to something else usually. The moment spun out for longer than you’d been expecting.

“You don’t know Ghost House?” she asked, finally letting your hand go.

“Sorry,” you said, shrugging, “I’m not much of a television person.”

She made a soft sound and lent back again, slightly closer than you were expecting, her shoulder brushing yours. You tucked your feet underneath you, letting yourself gently tip towards her, wanting more of her touch. With both of your faces turned towards the fire, it was easy to pretend like it was purely a coincidence. That you didn’t feel like she was a black hole, drawing you in with little more than a moment of her attention, dark eyes assessing you. Why did you want it to be a positive assessment?

“Do you think they understand how tragic they are?” she asked.

“I think they’re drunk and high,” you replied.

Her laugh was throaty, raspy, like a ghostly finger stroked along the length of your spine. She rose, not quite as elegant as you’d imagined, and yet your stomach dropped with disappointment.

“Are you coming?” she asked, turning to look at you over her shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you said, scrabbling to your feet.

You followed her on bare feet, past the tree, further into the shadows of the garden. It opened up farther, more expansive than you’d first thought. She seemed confident in the direction she’d chosen, striding through the darkness.

“Rick likes to think he’s sophisticated because he buys art but he has no eye. After all, he has one of Delia’s pieces around here somewhere,” she said.

“Delia?” you asked.

“Delia Deetz,” she said, pausing for a moment to let you catch up, “you really don’t know anything about me or my family.”

She seemed pleased by that. You offered her a small smile, feeling better about where this was going now. Any misstep had been passed over, leaving a warmth growing in your stomach.

“I’ll show it to you,” she said, reaching out to grasp your hand and tug you behind her.

She wound her way past one statue after another, growing further and further from the lights and sound of the party. The cool night air and the silence was appreciated, exactly what you’d been looking for when you’d slipped outside. Her hand was warm in yours, chasing away the chill that threatened to sink into your bones.

“Isn’t it just horrific?” she asked, coming to a stop in front of something you couldn’t conceptualise.

It was spiky and abstract and not like anything you’d ever willingly seek out to look at. You titled your head, trying to understand what you were looking at. Nose wrinkling, you shook your head, giving up on trying.

“I know art is subjective but I really don’t get this,” you said, “I wouldn’t pay money for it.”

A warm hand landed on your cheek, turning your head, chapped lips landing on yours. You gasped, startled, not sure if that was what she’d meant to do. She pressed closer, more insistent, teeth nipping at your lip until you kissed her back.

Her hands were gripping your cheeks while yours slid around her waist. She was so warm under your touch, so soft, so supple. The way she kissed you was like she was trying to possess you, to own you, and you were willing to give her what she wanted. You hadn’t expected this turn of events, your hope nothing but a pipe dream, or so you’d thought.

Her tongue was in your mouth, fingers digging in, rough and harsh and so perfect it made your head spin. You were making small noises, muffled by her mouth, almost begging her for more. It only made her kiss you harder. She tasted of cigarette smoke and sugar, dreams of something dark and dangerous at the edge of the moment.

She dragged you down to the grass, ignoring the damp collecting on the blades in the cold night. She straddled your body, knees either side of your hips, pressing in to keep you pinned underneath her. You whimpered when she trailed her lips over your skin, teeth scraping before sinking in at the junction of your shoulder and your neck. The noise you made was embarrassing in its wantonness. Her tongue soothed over it but you knew there would be a bruise there tomorrow. Or maybe later today. You’d lost track of time.

Her hands shoved under the skirt of the dress you’d been forced into, nails dragging over the vulnerable skin of your inner thigh. Your legs parted, falling open to give her more access. Her teeth were still making a home on your skin, lips trailing over whatever bare skin they could find. Sinking in at the soft skin over your heart, the flesh of one breast pushed up from the tight corset digging into your ribs. Her name was a gasp before it devolved into a filthy moan.

She shifted, fingers pressing at the throbbing between your legs. Your hips rose, meeting her touch, asking for more. Pushing your underwear to the side, you sighed at the feeling of her hand on you, no barriers in place, nothing but skin against your slick heat.

Pinned in the damp grass, skirt hiked up around your waist, beautiful woman on top of you, your night had significantly improved. Your fingers had found their way into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging on it as her fingers swept through your folds. Wetness gathered on her fingertip, she was rough on your clit. The high whine from the back of your throat only seemed to spur her on. Her teeth sunk in deeper, right over your heart, a soft growl coming from her.

When her fingers plunged into you, you cried out, arching up into her mouth. She wasn’t soft with you, no longer exploring as her fingers thrust into you. Your hips met her hand, a strangled noise coming from your lips when her palm ground against your clit. You were panting, the electricity in your bloodstream all consuming. You’d never felt more alive than you did, there in the grass, abstract statue looming over the shoulder of the woman with her mouth on your body and her fingers inside you. Clutching at her, you rode her hand as hard as you could.

When your orgasm hit, it rushed over you. Your inner muscles clenched around her fingers, almost strangling them while your fingers tightening in her hair until you were pulling on it. Your hips were pressing up into her, seeking out every drop of pleasure you could find. It had never felt this intense before, this good. You wanted more of it.

“Fuck,” she growled into the skin of your neck.

Her hand retracted from between your legs, glistening with your arousal in what little light there was. Her tongue dragged over her skin, cleaning herself up. It was the single hottest thing you’d ever seen, which was saying a lot given what you’d been doing only moments before. Her dark eyes watched you with every lap of her tongue. You felt boneless and fucked and so turned on. Whoever this woman was, whatever her damage was, you wanted more.

Her leg swung around and she sat beside your splayed body. Wiping her hand on her skirt, she stared up at the statue in front of her, menacing in the shadows.

“Sorry about that,” she said, “I’m sort of going through something.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” you replied, slowly sitting too.

She looked over at you, a smile flirting with her lips.

“I suppose you’re not.”

Her eyes dipped down and something on her face changed. Her hand reached over, hovering before it made contact with your skin.

“Sorry about that.”

You looked down, finding a stark bite mark on the skin of your breast. Your thumb wiped away a drop of blood from the wound.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, “it was kind of hot, actually.”

“You’re being surprisingly calm about this,” she said.

“A beautiful woman just ravished me in a garden. It’s the stuff dreams are made of,” you said with a small shrug and a smile.

She shook her head but didn’t disagree with you. The cool night air washed over you. You shivered. She shuffled closer, arm pressing to yours, her warmth seeping into you. You lent against her.

“So who is Delia?” you asked, staring at the statue.

“My step mother,” she replied.

“You don’t like her?” you asked.

“It’s complicated,” she said, “I don’t hate her. It’s just…”

“Complicated,” you said, nodding.

You sat in silence for a while longer. You wanted to reach out, to taste her, to know what she sounded like as she came. You thought she might not want that. She’d been so quick to put space between the two of you after your earth shattering orgasm. Even leaning on her, you weren’t sure she was completely comfortable with the casual touch.

“You are alive, right?” she asked after the silence had settled over you.

“What?” you laughed.

“Just tell if you’re actually alive or not,” she demanded turning to look at you.

“I’m not like a zombie or a ghost,” you said, still laughing.

The way she was looking at you had the laughter die on your lips. She was serious. Deadly so. You blinked. Her gaze was lingering, open and wide and vulnerable. Your heart clenched.

You grasped her hand, pressing it to your heart. Her palm moulded to the curve of your body as she pressed down. The sting of pain was worth it when her shoulders relaxed at the feeling of your heartbeat.

“See?” you murmured, “alive.”

She sat there, her hand on your chest, dark eyes watching as your chest expanded with every inhale. You let her, not sure what she was going through but letting yourself be there.

“Sorry,” she said, “sometimes it can get…”

“Get?” you prompted when you weren’t sure she was going to continue.

“Overwhelming,” she said, “that’s why I have a show. I can talk to ghosts.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what to make of that, “cool.”

“You’re not going to tell me I’m crazy?” she asked.

You considered her for a moment.

“Nah. There’s enough out there we can’t explain that I’m not willing to dismiss anything yet,” you replied, “it’s not crazy to experience the world differently from me.”

Her hand tightened on your skin, the pain causing a hiss to fall from your lips. She looked down, flipping her palm to find your blood smeared over her skin. She brought it to her mouth, licking your blood away, holding eye contact with you.

A shot of pleasure went right between your thighs.

“You should probably go find your friend,” she said, ignoring how breathless you were.

“If she’s not still busy with Rick,” you said.

“She won’t be,” she said.

“She definitely won’t have had as good a time at this party as I have,” you said, smirking over at her.

“Come on.”

She stood, holding out a hand to you. You let her pull you to your feet, staggering into her body. Her fingertips were soft as they brushed over the apple of your cheek, lingering for a moment before putting more space between your bodies.

You followed her back to the party. The singing had only grown louder, the words slurred and indistinct, a wall of noise you weren’t interested in. You paused for a moment, scooping up the heels abandoned at the foot of the tree, Lydia lingering with you.

“I think I’ll return home now,” she said, almost absentmindedly, “Richard left candy when he picked up Astrid.”

“Pop on a horror movie and relax,” you said with a small laugh.

“Exactly.”

Looking at her, you could imagine she would be the exact kind of woman to relax to a good slasher movie. Something about her spoke to the darker side of things, the strange, the unusual. You liked it.

Your friend was in the doorway, staring out at the backyard, eyes searching. They alighted on you, relaxing before a look of surprise passed over her face. As you stepped into the circle of light spilling out of the house, her mouth fell open.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“You mean after you abandoned me?” you replied, “I made a friend.”

Her eyes dragged from you to Lydia, still at your side for reasons you hadn’t yet worked out. Your friend’s eyes widened and she seemed speechless. Not an easy feat, if you were being honest.

“Are you done? Can we go now?” you asked her.

“Uh… yeah, sure,” she said, still looking to Lydia.

“Great.” You turned to Lydia, “if you need to work through more shit, come find me.”

“I might just take you up on that,” she said, the corner of her lips curling up in a smile.

You reached out, brushing your fingertips over the apple of her cheek, a mirror image of the softness she’d shown you earlier. Her hand caught yours, pressing her lips to the centre of your palm before she let you go.

You grasped your friend’s elbow and steered her towards the front door. The house spat you onto a dark driveway, empty and long, the perfect setting for a horror movie ending to the night. After all, you’d sex. That was, like, horror movie 101.

“Did you seriously fuck Lydia Deetz?” your friend asked in a hiss of a whisper.

“Well…” you said, thinking over it.

“You know she’s a total con artist, right? She tells people she talks to ghosts,” she said, a judgemental edge to her tone.

“She told me,” you said.

“And you still fucked her?” she asked.

“Yeah, I did.” You jutted out your chin, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at her.

“Didn’t know you were into that freaky shit,” she said, eyes trailing down to the wound on your chest.

“Hey, I don’t judge you for sleeping with some slimy producer. Don’t judge me for what I get up to,” you said.

“Fine,” she said, “but you’re not really going to see her again, are you?”

“I hope I do,” you said.

And when the phone rang, you jumped at the chance to help her work through more of her shit.

#lydia deetz x reader #lydia deetz imagine #lydia deetz #beetlejuice beetlejuice

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abbysimsfun · 19 days ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 130 (Return to Selvadorada)

cw: poison

Heather and her old friend, Spencer Pancakes, arrived in Selvadorada in early morning. After a long night of travel, Heather was exhausted. Ordering a cup of yerba mate while she perused the items for sale in the marketplace, Spencer was raring to go and made her way to her first dig site.

They were thrilled to be back to the jungle - their first return trip together since Spencer's bachelorette over a decade earlier. It was rare for these busy moms to have so few responsibilities, and they couldn't wait to make the most of their time here.

Heather picked up a few adventuring supplies from what was available, and two Omiscan dolls - one each for Ash and Lavender - before she met Spencer after lunch.

They both wanted to do some exploring while Spencer searched for relics to clean and authenticate, and Heather was excited to help just like she had on their first trip.

They headed north toward the ancient temples, crossing the rickety rope bridge overlooking the ancient ruins, and posing for a selfie with relief when the bridge didn't snap beneath their feet. They loved seeing the temple up close again.

They used machetes to cut vines and clear their path through the jungle, collecting what items they could find - Heather happened upon a teasure chest with a gold Omiscan plate inside, but she had no real use for it and gave it to Spencer.

"Are you sure? This is worth thousands!"

"And something this precious should be in the hands of those who'll truly care for it. If I display that at home, Lavender will try to eat off it."

Spencer found two Amazonite crystal skulls during her digs and gave one to Heather, who joked it would go nicely with the Grimophone from Bella Goth.

"Speaking of the Goths, did you hear my sister Lydia's expecting again? It's a girl this time, and Jagger is so excited for a little sister. I know my kids can't wait to get out to the Bay to visit their cousins once she's a little older. And your kids, too. Jett came home from the camping trip talking all about him and Ash playing pirates together!"

"Has he mentioned seeing Elsa Bjerg-Watson's death since it happened? Hazel said Suri was really torn up about losing her aunt."

Spencer shook her head. "Not at all. And I don't know yet if that's a good or a bad thing."

They continued exploring, dodging killer bees and plasma bats, but they ran into trouble with giant spiders. Spencer had repellent but Heather didn't. She felt the hairy insect dig his claws into her shoulder and tried not to scream.

"It'll be okay," Spencer said. "The temple baths aren't far. There are usually locals hanging around and we could ask them about an antidote."

Heather's heart raced. She knew spider bites were a race against time, but she was breaking into a sweat, beginning to feel like she might be sick over the edge of a Selvadoradian cliff.

By the time they found the Omiscan temple baths it was nightfall. Heather's skin burned as if on fire. She'd broken out in bright green swirls but she smiled through her discomfort, greeting a local with a polite smile.

"You look like you could use an antidote," he said warmly. "Hope you've got money, because it'll cost you a pretty penny, and you'll need to find a decent wifi connection to order it in special. It should arrive before it's too late, as long as you order it tonight."

Heather thanked the elderly local for his ominous but helpful warning, and the girls made their way back to their rental in town for the night. Spencer knocked on a few doors, finding a local with a wifi connection and a good heart, so the women went to bed a thousand simoleons lighter.

But Heather felt like death was slowly creeping up on her. She tossed and turned until jet lag knocked her out, hopeful the antidote would arrive by morning. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: I rented a one bedroom and I was almost worried these two would reject to sharing a bed and one would get half-hearted naps unless I bought another bed, but nope, they proved they're close like sisters and didn't route fail and complain that the bed was already taken! Not needing to buy another bed was good because we obviously needed to spend a lot of money on a laptop I had to buy just to order an expensive antidote for poisoned spiders!

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #selvadorada

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plussizefantasia · 4 months ago

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CozyTober Day 10: Unsanctioned Halloween Party

Tony Stark x wife!reader, with a healthy dose of Iron dad thrown in

WC: 1.1k

a/n: This one kind of got away from me and I left the end kinda open in case I want to come back someday but I like how it turned out. Reblog if you liked it and Day 11 should be out in a little bit (i'm working on it as we speak)!

You used to think that couples' costumes were cheesy and unoriginal. Then you started dating Tony, who could sell a hair dryer to a bald man and suddenly you were wearing couple’s costumes every year. You two had gotten to the point that you felt the need to one-up your own costumes every year because literally nobody else was on your level. This Halloween you had gone to the ‘Stark Spook Spectular’ together as Beetlejuice and Lydia, you in the poofy red dress and Tony in the classic black and white suit and crazy wig.

You had partied the night away with your friends, danced, drank, and did some truly epic karaoke. When the clock struck 1:00 am you bid your goodbyes and had a car drive the two of you to your brownstone home a couple blocks away.

“Wonder what Pete’s up to?” Tony spoke into your hair as the two of you leaned into each other in the backseat.

“He said he was gonna go to Ned’s and watch some scary movies while eating his body weight in candy.” You think back to the conversation you had had with your non-quite son earlier that day when he had stopped by after school.

“Good. Normal kid stuff.” Tony replied pulling out his phone. He had a habit of doing that when the two of you were on the way home. He would check in on the security system from his phone, you supposed it was so he could be ready for any situation he might walk into.

You weren’t expecting his shout of “What the shit.” and the way he suddenly sat up and more-or-less launched you up into the air.

His small mutter of apology was quickly overshadowed by Tony shoving his phone in your face, the live feed of your living room displayed on the screen.

There, in plain view of the camera was Peter Parker, frantically trying to keep the nearly 200 hundred teenagers that filled your house from destroying the place. It would be adorable the way he threw coasters down and pushed shoes off your coffee table if you weren’t so pissed that the kid had thrown a party in your absence.

It wasn’t long before you turned the corner onto your street and could see and hear the damage for yourself. Lights strobed out of your windows and you could hear the music that was blaring even in the car with the windows rolled up and down the street.

The car slowed to a stop in front of your house and you jumped out of the back, not even waiting until the wheels stopped rolling. Tony paid the driver and raced after you entering the front door only seconds after you did.

The music while appropriately themed for a Halloween was about 15 dB too loud and drowned out whatever your husband was trying to tell you.

You wove through the throngs of teens, glaring at any who dared to make eye contact with you and tried to make your way to the access panel in the kitchen. The only physical interface for FRIDAY is on the first floor. A few buttons later the music stopped.

Shouts of confusion and anger were heard but none really registered in your mind. A frantic Spider-boy slid around the corner and into view, his arms laden with empty bottles and glasses.

“Hey, who touched-” He stopped. His face drained of color and he froze right where he was.

You cocked your hip out and put on your strongest don’t you dare face. You ran your tongue across your front teeth and tsked at him which was enough to startle him from the “freeze” state he had succumbed to.

‘Mr and Mrs. Stark!” You didn’t even notice Tony was standing behind you, his own dad-face activated and in full force. “I-I can explain.”

“Don’t.” You put your hand up. “Even bother.”

You took the deepest breath in the history of deep breaths. “If you do not live here you have ten seconds to get out.” Nobody moved.

“Ten. Nine.” Tony started counting behind you and every single person in the house jumped into motion.

Teens spilled out into your front yard and you’re even sure you say some start to climb out of windows, too afraid that they would still be within the walls when Iron Man reached zero.

You waited for the house to empty, dead-eyeing kids as they walked past you, before turning back to a pale-looking Peter. Still standing in the same spot and with arms still full of trash.

“Here is what is going to happen. We-” you motion at Tony and yourself “are going to go upstairs and change out of our costumes. You are going to clean however much you can during that time and then we are going to talk about this.”

“Don’t leave, I know where you live.” Tony tossed his way before ushering you up the stairs and into your room. He helped you unzip your dress and you took his wig off for him.

“Is it bad that I’m kind of happy?” He spoke up.

“Only if it’s bad that I am too.” You responded. “Why are you happy?” You ask him.

“I just get so worried about the kid, I mean he’s so smart and he’s got the whole world on his shoulders. I just wish he’d loosed up sometimes.” Tony spoke with a rare vulnerability in his voice. “What about you?” he asked back, “Why are you happy.”

“Well, I know that we’re not his parents, I know that. But it’s kinda nice to have these normal moments ya know? It feels like tonight, we’re not owners of a multi-billion dollar cooperation and celebrities and spies and superheroes and all of the million things we are every other day. It just feels like we’re Mr. and Mrs. Stark, and our son has just thrown an illicit party while we were gone and it’s all just so very… normal.”

During your rant, you slowly walked across the room so that you were standing behind Tony. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your forehead on his back.

“I think-” you paused, “I think it’s okay that we’re happy, as long as we don’t tell Peter.”

Tony’s frame shook as he laughed and you could feel the slight tension he was carrying bleed out of him.

“We better get down there, kid’s probably freaking himself out way more than we ever could.” Tony moved you in front of him and kissed you softly. “Ready to go be the most normal non-parent parents in the world?”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” You nodded and said deadpanned. Breaking moments after into a small fit of giggles that had your husband smiling at you with love in his eyes.

#cozytober2024 #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark #tony stark x plussize! reader #tony stark x plus size reader #tony stark x wife!reader #iron dad #plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #x reader #requests open #requests wanted #marvel fanfiction #iron man #tony stark fluff #this was not at all inspired by Sky High (2005)

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the-broken-truth · 2 years ago

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Platonic Yandere Miguel O'Hara w/ Twin Brother Who's Had Enough With Him [Part 2]

Summary: Your brother has gone too far - chasing your wife away from your house, controlling your missions in the Spider-Society, and now breaking into your house and telling you you have no right to live your own life. You've had enough of him and his controlling ways. While escaping from Miguel, you decide to head to your Wife's Parents' House and tell her that you are cutting off your brother...but what happens when you find your Wife's Parents tied up with red webbing and your wife missing? This...is not good.

[Earth-928 / Nueva York / Lydia's House]

[Name] webbed his rope of web to the apartment complex where Lydia's Parents lived - her car was in the driveway so she must have been there. The lights were on suggesting that someone was awake and he was going to speak to his wife and tell her that he was cutting ties with his brother, leaving the Spider-Society, and starting a new life with her and her alone. He landed in front of the door and deactivated his suit when he made sure that no one was around before he entered the apartment complex. He walked up the stairs and entered the second floor where Lydia was currently staying when he noticed one of the doors was completely ajar; that was Lydia's parents' home! He darted to the door and pushed it open, causing the couple, tied to two chairs with red webbing and gagged with a cloth to keep them silent. [Name] quickly ran to them and fell to his knees, before ripping the cloth out of their mouths and began untying them.

"Mr. & Mrs. Banks! What happened! Where is Lydia?!" [Name] asked in a panicked voice.

"He...He took her! Spider-Man 2099 came out of nowhere, tied us up, and took our daughter without saying a single word to us. Please, you have to save Lydia! She and the baby are all that matter!" Mrs. Banks said, that made [Name's] eyes widen in horror.

"Baby? What baby?" [Name] asked with tears coming down his face.

"Lydia didn't tell you? She's pregnant." Mr. Banks said as he rose from his seat and rubbed his wrists.

[Name] looked at the ground with wide eyes, his wife-to-be was pregnant and his brother had her! He knew how much his brother hated Lydia but would he hurt her enough to...too... Wait, did he know that she was pregnant?! He needed to move! [Name] shot from his knees and ran out of the room, down the stairs, and turned on his suit before webbing back to the Spider-Society - whatever he was planning to do to Lyida, he was going to be there.

[Spider-Society / Labartory]

"Please! Please, let me go, Miguel. I never did anything to you, I didn't betray your brother." Lydia cried as she watched Miguel fill a Syringe with a clear liquid before he flicked the needle and turned to face Lydia.

"You...are a distraction for my brother, you are talking to him, taking his attention away from me, where it belongs. Now, you're pregnant with his child - another distraction. I'm going to get rid of you both and make sure that he knows that he belongs to me and me alone." Miguel said as he began walking towards Lydia - who was strapped to a chair with her arms and legs secured but she struggled. Miguel was close to her and pointed to the needle at her arm before a web connected with the body of the needle and yanked it out of Miguel's hand, making it shatter against the wall, Miguel looked behind him and saw [Name] standing there with his eyes full of anger with tears running down his face.

"Miguel...you dare! You dare try to kill my wife and my baby! Have you lost your fucking mind?!" [Name] roared at his crazy brother, who just smiled at him.

"All of this is going to be for your good. You need to let big brother handle all of this and everything will go back to normal." Miguel said as he walked over to [Name] with his arms out - as if he wanted a hug. But the moment he got close, [Name] shot his fist out and socked his brother in the face, sending him spiraling to the ground before he shot webs at him to keep him still. [Name] ran to Lydia and unstrapped her before pulling her into his arms in a tight hug. [Name] grabbed Lydia's hand and ran out of the room while Miguel struggled against the webs.

"[NAME]! BRING THAT BITCH BACK HERE! YOU DON'T BELONG TO HER, YOU BELONG TO ME! [NAME]!" Miguel said as he started ripping the web off of himself before he got up and chased after them - he was going to get rid of Lydia and keep his little brother safe, no matter what.

#spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #platonic yandere #brother reader #male reader #spider!reader

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casually-eat-my-soul · 7 months ago

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I’m sure someone has said this but stiles is so so Spider-Man coded.

I was rewatching ATSV and that one scene in the beginning of the movie where Gwen is speaking to her father is so magicstiles! and sheriff Stilinski angst au coded. (I added the clip under the split if you don’t know what I’m talking about.)

But here are the parts of the script that I feel are Stilinski coded.

“How long have you been lying to me?”

“Can you just not be a cop for a second and be my dad and listen to me? Do you really think I'm a murderer?”

No. Yes. He doesn't know what to say.

“You're in this to help people, right?”

How could my boy...

“Well so am I. And the way to help right now is to listen to me.”

My sweet boy...

“Please dad, you're all I have left.”

“You have the right to remain silent- What?”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law--

“Are you really this afraid of me?!”

“You have the right to an attorney--

“Dad! Stop!”

“Don't get any closer!”

Stiles pulls his arm out towards his father. He instinctively lifts his weapon --

This could easily be either regular canon or magic!stiles au that really pushes the Stilinski dynamic to a more angsty version, where the sheriff doesn’t take finding out about werewolves well. Stiles always being the sarcastic human sidekick until he realizes his dad treats him like a criminal and shatters.

But also Spider-Man stiles au, idk if that would make Derek deadpool or Gwen Stacy. Stiles who gains his powers and just has to help his dad with bad guys, he’s already lost his mother. Even if the entire city thinks he’s a menace, even if his dad thinks that Spider-Man is a criminal. And he really has to stop being distracted by Derek hale. If anyone has fics please drop them.

Scott and Lydia fight for man in the chair.

youtube

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #the stilinski family feels #derek x stiles #across the spiderverse #Spider-Man stiles #by the law Sheriff dad and morally gray son #sheriff stilinski #it’s so sad in fics when the sheriff loses trust in stiles and thinks he’s a criminal #but I eat it up everytime #stiles stilinski character analysis #stiles realizing his dad treats him like a criminal and thinks he’s a murder #it hurts so drop #Youtube

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whyeverr · 2 months ago

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"Not a bad party, huh?"

Everyone arrived in costume (some a bit more... inventive... than others). And there's music, karaoke, pumpkin carving, dancing...

Dawson fizzed a special batch of "Spider Cider" apple juice that seems to help spark an effervescent mood — and thank goodness, because someone (not pointing fingers!) decided to come dressed as a sad clown, and apparently that's a good way to bring down a crowd...

And a very honorable mention goes to Lydia the hotdog, Max the scuba diver, Skip the ghost, and Dasia the scary skeleton. All children automatically take home the gold in costume contests. I don't make the rules but I do award participation trophies! 🥰

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mysticallystilinski · 2 years ago

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camping with stiles slow burn smut ?

sparks | s. stilinski x fem!reader | smut

summary: playing with fire is guaranteed to get you burnt, but in this situation you wouldn’t mind getting a little spicy.

warnings: swearing, slight angst, y/n being super sensitive and tons of smut

a/n: { first smut i’m posting on here, and it obvi has to be about stiles! hope you enjoy love <3 }

“NO NO NO HELL NO.” you exclaim while spotting the spider on the lower half of your sleeping bag. “there is absolutely no fucking way i’m going to sleep here tonight.” you yelled once again. “y/n, can you ever just shut the fuck up?” stiles exclaims. how about you shut the fuck up you fuck face. having the spend the night with stiles wasn’t ideal, but you thought you could work it out. seems to be that your idea was wrong, and you are going to curse yourself for the next 12 hours of your life.

“now who’s quiet?” stiles says with a sly smirk on his face. 11 hours 38 minutes. that is the amount of time until you are back in your nice and cozy bed in beacon hills. for now you are stuck up in the woods, with no cell service, and absolutely no way to get out of this seem to be bonding moment with stiles; set up by the pack in efforts to make you two get along. kira and scott have been planning it since the day you two met. that day was the beginning of the bickering of your ‘enemyship’ as lydia says.

“maybe i wouldn’t be so quiet, if it wasn’t for you always being so obnoxious.” you spit out. his face contorts into a seemingly frown until the brunette starts to wheeze. “you really thought you did something y/n.” he says without failure of his laugh. his laughter echoed the quiet woods and god did you want to kill him. 11 hours and 20 minutes. “please just leave me alone the rest of the trip, that’s something that would really help.” you say.

without effort, stiles made you upset once again. you don’t know if it was the intention or just a joke but damn did it really hurt. without saying anything else you head into your camping bag and shut the zipper as quick as you possibly can. it was embarrassing enough being on this trip with him, but for him to see you cry because of his words was a whole other thing. you sit in your camping bag and it seemed to be dead silent. finally, no stiles, and only 11 hours and 15 minutes left of this stupid fucking trip. being caught in your own thoughts didn’t help you realize that the camper has been opened once again and a seemingly apologetic stiles was on the other side.

“hey, i’m sorry for before, i didn’t mean to make you upset.” he said apologetically. that was really sweet; oh shut up it probably was one of his other jokes. “no it’s seriously fine, don’t worry about it.” you say with snide in your voice. “geez y/n, i didn’t mean anything by it, maybe you should stop being so sensitive by everything” while he whispers the last part. “oh my fucking god.. it’s not my fault i have to be stuck in here with you” you say as you stand up from your place on the hard ground. “you seriously always seem to be a dick around me, and i never did anything to you.” your voice starts to raise as his eyes lower upon onto you.

“it’s not my fault you’re like obsessed with me or something” he laughs. “jesus stiles. are you really that full of yourself?” you laugh back. your hands start the clench as the anger inside you builds up second by second. steam seems to be flowing out of you being his eyes start to widen as your voice heightens. “SERIOUSLY PLEASE STILES GET A FUCKING LIFE.” you retort. all that goes through your head is how much you hate ruin and wish you would have never agreed to this.

his mind was filled with other things, things like what positions he could take you in or how hot you seemed to be when you were mad. he wanted to just let you keep talking forever at that rate because of how much it turns him on. “can i show you how much i hate you?” you say trying to walk off. you were quickly shown that he didn’t want you to leave because you felt a heavy tug on your hand from his.

stiles pulled you into him and placed his soft lips onto yours. he kissed you with passion and lust, adoringly with poison. he just wanted to touch you, so that’s what he did. he placed his hands upon your ass, but you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him back with as much lust as he did. it was inevitable, you two getting together. the pack spotted the tension from day one of meeting you; even if that tension was anger at first.

you pulled back, out of breath in attempt to say something, anything. you were about to scold stiles and ask what the hell he was doing but he pulled you right back in again. with no hesitation he pulled back and sat on the floor waiting for you to join him. he pulled off his dark red flannel and his undershirt in a slight struggle. you watched his attempt and chuckled, wow stiles still clumsy while trying to fuck me. you took the bottom of his shirt and lifted it above his head easily. he looked back up at you with lust and him being slightly out of breath from that action.

in attempts to keep the mood you slowly took of your tank top; just leaving you in nothing but a lace bra and your skirt. his breath staggered at the sight of you, so he took your hand and pulled you down onto his lap. he immediately looked into your eyes then pulled you in to kiss you. his hands daringly caressed your body in attempts to feel your every curve and crevice. don’t get it wrong, you loved making out with stiles but something just felt off. maybe it was the clothes still on you.

you stopped kissing him and lead his hands to the band of your skirt. you waited for him to pull it down but he didn’t get the cue; so you had to manually put his hands and pull down your skirt. he did it with ease, skillfully. “nice moves stilinski.” you huff out. he gradually stops pulling down your skirt to say “do you wanna do it yourself?”. “maybe i will.” you say. you place your hands onto the floor to get up but he pulls you back in and starts to finish what he was doing before.

this time your skirt comes off quickly with ease and no hesitation from the one doing it. you were left in just panties and your lacy bra. he threw your skirt on the other side of the camping bag and it left a thump in the quiet of night. you couldn’t help but feel so bare when he only has his shirt off so you had an idea. “stand up”, you say. he quickly gets up off the floor and stands on the hard ground. you slightly crawl over to him in attempts to get closer to his dirty jeans.

you take one hand and grip onto his belt and the other to undo it. you heard him breathe in sharply and quickly exhale as his belt buckle soon becomes undone. you see out of the corner of your eye, his hand running through his soft hair. you unbutton his pants and quickly pull them down to the bases of his ankles. you pull back away from him, signaling for him to finish the rest. he steps out of his pants and heads back to the ground in only his boxers.

you were quick to get back on top of him and start to kiss him. your mouth lands farther and farther from his mouth to his neck. you slightly suck on his pale neck in attempts to make love bites. stiles exhales in and out, trying to be quiet but you want him to show you how much he wants you. you unlatch from his skin, “show me how much you want me stiles.” he pushes you slightly off of him and turns you onto your back. his body presses against yours and you can feel his hard bulge through the thin layers of underwear.

his breath gets caught in his throat as he places his lips onto yours. he forces his body down yours as his lips get closer, and closer to your pussy. once he arrives, he pushes your body up in attempt to get your underwear off your body, and it works. he slides your panties off with ease. stiles discards them to the other side of the tent, and sets his eyes back onto you. his eyes begin the pulsate as he lowers his head towards your soaking wet cunt. in a quick second, with no hesitation he latched his rough lips onto your pussy. you gasped in a sharp breath out of shock as he dives his tongue around your throbbing clit. your thighs sucked his head in deeper as your begging moans made it clear he should continue.

“stiles please, oh my god,” you say in a quick breath. he hums to your cunt and you can feel the chuckle pulsate throughout your delicious body. his mind was focused on pleasing you, while yours was set on finishing. he made it clear, he wasn’t going to stop until you came on his face. your moans became louder as the slim boy devoured his way through your soaking wet folds and all around your pussy. he gripped on your ass for support as he began to go deeper and deeper. you felt as though this couldn’t get any better, and your high was approaching.

stiles unlatched from your pussy, “what the fuck stilinski?”, you yell; clearly out of breath from this devilish act. as soon as you were gonna retort again, he stuck a finger into you. you huffed out a loud sigh in release. he slowly pumped his long finger in and out of you. you could see his devilishly hot smirk on his face as he began to pump it faster. he soon added a second finger into the mix and went down on you once again. “stiles, please oh my god go deeper,” you moan out. stiles starts to go deeper with the two fingers, while his mouth works on your throbbing clit.

you feel your high begin to almost release as the fingers and tongue are enough to make you start to shake. “stil- stiles,” you say while being out of breath. your legs start to clench around his body as he continues to go at a fast pace. it drive you absolutely wild, at how good he was at this. your high was close to hitting, so when he stuck a third finger in you near close to screamt. you were a moaning mess, and very messy. stiles unlatched his mouth from your cunt and you say gleaming cum all over his face. “jesus y/n, you did so good,” he said while being out of breath.

he was such a sight, messy hair, and puppy dog eyes. “now it’s my turn for me to please you”, and without hesitation you pushed stiles onto his back and hovered against his boxers. you grabbed the waistband and started to pull them down to his ankles. you took his cock into your hand and started to slowly pump it. you took one finger and slid it across the tip. stiles huffed out in pleasure as you aligned the tip with your cunt and slowly lowered yourself down onto it. you felt him instantly fill you up. he soon was deep inside you, and it felt magical. you didn’t mind the slow thrust of stiles going deep inside you.

“oh my god y/n, you feel so good,” stiles has to exclaim. your cheeks began to be rosy by overstimulation, and the fact that he’s praising you. you began to force yourself to go deeper. he felt so good inside you. he wanted more, he began to thirst his hips deeper to gain the maximum amount in you. “stiles, i love how this feels,” you groan out. you felt his cock start to twitch inside, so you started to grind upon him. his moans began to be louder as you clenched yourself around his base. “y/n please, i’m about to cum,” and as soon as he said it you felt him unleash his load into you. at the very same time you began to convulse and feel your orgasm approach you once again. “stiles- oh my god,” you say. stiles felt the same amount of bliss you did in that very moment, and maybe even more. as soon as you approached your finish, you slowly got off of him and fell against the bottom of the floor.

“you good?”, he says calmly. “yes i’m so good”, you say slyly. 10 hours and 20 min. “so are we good y/l/n?”, he smirks. “very good,” you laugh. you seem to feel calm and safe around him suddenly. his smirk was just too cute and too hard not to kiss. you reached in again and placed your lips onto his. he smiled into the kiss and raveled his fingers into your hair. why do i have to feel this way about him. you pulled back from this kiss just to see his pretty smirk, and you did.

10 hours, maybe i should just go camping once again with stiles. i wouldn’t mind. even if he is a dick, i’d like to suck his for once.

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saltymothball · 5 months ago

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my unpopular takes on beetlejuice beetlejuice SPOILERS!! (long post)

(i am a fan of the original pls do not come for me) these are just my thoughts on the sequel :D please feel free to add yours too

context! im writing these notes as i watch so theyre a little disorganized

for reference i also rewatched the original immediately prior to the sequel

not opening with the classic beetlejuice muisic ?? even the stage show opens with that music where is it (EDIT- restarted it and it actually does open w the music, but it is much less fun/campy an and more of a spooky remix so i forgot)

its not plot necessary but i do wish we learned how BJ fixed his shrunken head and death by sandworm

where are the maitlands ???? 0 mention of adam and barbra at the beginning ?

BJ's ex wife intro was a very creative concept but i wish they did it with more sfx props and less cgi/green screen

Astrid is like very boring, theyve done nothing to get the audience (me) invested in her?? disney wish vibes like who is she

call it a headcanon i feel like lydia wouldnt be this fucking awkward of a parent ?? she had good role models ie adam and barbra (even if her own parents werent as active, by the end of the original movie it implied they were now living in a healthy family dynamic

the mother daughter drama feels really forced, reminds me of the out-of-place tension between wednesday and morticia in the 2023 show

all angles are super close up and feel like horror angles. the scene where astrid befriends that boy ?? felt like someone was gonna come up and kill them the ENTIRE interaction (edit i guess that makes sense but it nerfed the scene)

IMMEDIATELY knew his parents are dead btw. not showing their faces is so clearly they are dead. not an ounce of mystery. theory the boy might be a ghost too?

theory astrids dad isnt dead bc Lydia cant see him

the witching hour wrong ?? last i knew it was 3am not 12am. weird thing to get wrong

its like not a silly campy vibe ?? its like uncomfortable.

dont like lydias new man hes pushy and gross

i miss adam and barbra

it doesnt make sense that no one taking lydia seriously ? delia knows she can see ghosts and has also experienced beetlejuice

lydias fiance is a horrid excuse for a partner (how tf did she meet him like did he just walk in bc the plot needed another person to hate lydia

not the dead protester joke :(

the spill-your-guts/pregnancy felt really idk,,, icky??? dont know how to explain it but it uncomfortably long

follow up- a lot of the visual ghost gags felt very gross/gorey ? like in the original movie the gags were inbetween silly/sexual/spooky-but this one feels more like blood and guts instead of spiders and snakes. exhibit A) otho casually shoving corpse barbra out of the way when looking at the closet with delia / exhibit b) the guy with the cigarettes at the end of the original

theory that astrid is going to end up seeing ghosts by the end of the movie

love the "eeee!" noise BJ makes when people say his name

ok BJ with the guitar after lydia tells him off was legitimately funny

i know astrid is an angsty teen but my god she is so hostile towards lydia

calling it at 56mins the boys parents are SO dead bc they deliberately didnt have lydia meet them

listen i have nothing against jenna ortega but it feels like she is type-casted to play exactly one character now, like let the girl play something other than a monotone gothy teen

"they found a loophole and moved on" okay whatever that means

astrids awkwardness w this ghost boy is pretty cute. he is so definitely a ghost though

yup called it hes a ghost

"my mom was telling the truth... shit" lmao

this boy feels very sus bc why are you trying to bribe her w her father

still no info on how lydia and rory met ??

MURDER HOUSE ?? TH BOY IS A MURDERER ??? okay thats a good twist ill give them that

astrid going into the afterlife to see her dad feels very "lydia going to the afterlife to see her mom" plot from the stage show ?

astrid honey you have too much faith in this ghost boy

oh my fucking god delia did you really get poisonous snakes....so on brand for her

Beetlegeuse literally carrying the whole movie

every scene he's in is absolutely giving

william dafoe is pretty good too but adding him just feels like he is william dafoe and not the character hes playing (who is also an actor)

delia correcting herself from saying fuck is really funny like girl was that scripted

okay ok astrd seeing her dad working in immigration was pretty neat

i had actually forgotten abt BJs ex wife until now ? doesnt seem like she actually adds much to the story beyond giving BJ a new reason to pursue lydia... which he was already doing...?

are they all going to end up in the afterlfe wtf

the afterlife desert takes place on the fucking moon of saturn ?? okay

is it just me or is the sandworm not claymation... like maybe its just the way it looks but i swear it looks like they cgi'd it but then cut down the frame rate

damn lydias husband really got eaten by piranhas.. what a way to die oh my god

there was no real stakes to astrid switching her soul? they resolved that so fast like lydia just grabbed her and they ran

oh their husband/dad is back now everything is fixed...? like all that hate towards her mom is now gone bc her mom was telling the truth about seeing ghosts? dad just resolved the only conflict

beetlejuice didnt even help get astrid back he went on a pee break and the plot progressed

love bad cop william defoe

"are you filled with fear and trembling?" "yes im shitting my pants" absolutely gold

BJ on fetchquests this whole movie fr

the soul sucking lady please she ate bobs nametag :(

ok wtf they really solved ghost boy dilemma in 5 seconds, BJ ex machina... like he rlly just got him like that ??? anticlimactic

ok good astrid apologized for being a shitty kid

rory please stop kissing lydias neck

i kind of hate the modern nods like the self securing seatbelt in the priests car, or the influencers at the wedding, really weird unnecessary detail

BJ and Delia wedding crashers my fav

how did Beetlejuice get into the church ? if he is a demon like previously established, shouldnt he NOT be able to step on holy ground

enjoyed the slapstick moment of lydia punching rory, good moment

her red dress omg !! pretty

BJ himself is just too funny, making the priest sing top tier

i still miss adam and barbra :( if they can cgi that dead guy in star wars i think we couldve brought alec baldwin and geena davis who are in fact still very alive and look great

they really didnt make me interested in BJs ex wife other than she is pretty and looks like morticia addams ?

BJ making everybody partake in singing is very silly

everybody dancing at the wedding scene must have been fun to film, everybody looks like theyre jamming

lmao whos dog was that in the hallucinations ?? is that the dog who killed the maitlands

"ghoul squad" ok monster high

oh finally his ex is here

lydia so casually pushed out of the way lmao

why does BJ have more etherial powers than every other ghost?

offering rory to the soul sucking lady is so good

theyre really just gonna sandworm for the plot resolution again ???

his ex wife was a threat for all of 4 seconds

lol the legal marriage loophole was kinda funny

is delia like forever dead ? is she a ghost now? is beetlejuice dead?

i still love delia. "i will find charles and we will haunt you both" good for her

are the influencer wedding guests dead

everything got wrapped up very quickly

good on delia for still loving her husband even though that shark absolutely annihilated him

what ?? astrid is married now???

WHAT ??? SHES GIVING BIRTH ?????

oh ok its a dream

having a second pregnancy bit felt really weird

they alluded to another sequel :(

please remember i am actually a huge fan of beetlejuice !! no hate to the franchise these are just my personal opinions on the sequel. i would love to hear your thoughts as well !!

#delia is perfect. no notes #keatlejuice #beetlejuice #beetlejuice 2 #beetlejuice beetlejuice #lydia deetz #hot take #cold take #unpopular opinons #tim burton #michael keaton #micheal keaton #delia deetz #beetlejuice 1988 #betelgeuse #charles deetz

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jiubilant · 2 years ago

Text

“Come in, then,” says Irileth, gruff as ever. Then, gruffly fond: “You can use the door, you know.”

Jenassa, spidered in the other woman’s window, smiles and slips inside.

For the past three nights, since a thing with wings blazed from the clouds and razed the western watchtower, she has climbed to this high room with linens and liniment. (One part oil, one part limewater, shaken.) What comes after has become routine. Irileth’s face is no longer gaunt with pain, but she still shuts her eyes and sets her jaw when Jenassa’s hands, merciful as any good assassin’s, peel the shirt from her back to bare the bandages beneath. Tonight, these follow the shirt to the floor in a stained coil. The burns bared to the light, Jenassa notes with relief, look less like raw meat than they had the night before—and they’re cooler to the touch, though the dragonfire still festers in the skin.

But there’s something else tonight, Jenassa thinks. She traces the tense line between Irileth’s shoulders. Then she almost laughs.

“You’re worried,” she says lightly, dabbing liniment into the crease, “about the girl.”

“Of course I am.” Irileth’s bulwark of a back twitches beneath Jenassa’s hands. Jenassa does not have to see her face to see it, drawn and dangerous, roiling like a pyroclastic cloud. “An oath of fealty should be freely sworn, not—not—it was ill done of him,” she snaps, volcanic as she always is when speaking in private of her jarl, “to bequeath his own fosterling to some—thespian.”

Jenassa recalls how the girl’s face, fierce in the firelight of the Jarl’s meadhall, had flamed when she kissed the hand of her new thane. She raises an eyebrow. “She thinks it a high honor.”

“Of course she does,” Irileth grumbles. “Her head’s full of Nord nonsense.”

A lock of her hair slips free of its hard knot. Jenassa, after some deliberation, noses it aside.

“Not our Lydia,” she murmurs against the nape of the other woman’s neck. When she kisses it, soft as a shadow, she smiles to feel the stubborn shoulders sink. “Some of it is our nonsense.”

She waits. After a long, haughty pause, Irileth sighs through her nose.

“She’ll be safe at High Hrothgar,” she admits. Her voice is heavy and hoarse. She shifts as if to lean against Jenassa, then remembers the blisters and rocks forward again. “Balgruuf wants her gone before Ulfric batters down our gates.”

Jenassa stills. She stares at Irileth’s broad back—the burns glistening with balm, the old, tired muscles bunching beneath—then speaks with studied diplomacy. “So Balgruuf’s cast his lot.”

“The Legion is sending a detachment.” Irileth’s voice is brittle, now, sharp as foyada-glass underfoot. “Gods only know what we’ll feed them, if they’re not snatched by great lizards on the way. Caius has it in his head that—”

She stops. Jenassa, after a moment, hears the cause: footsteps, soft and familiar, in the hall.

Irileth rubs her forehead with a weary hand. “Didn’t want her to see this.”

“She knows,” says Jenassa in her most patient voice. “You’ve been staggering around like a draugr for—come in,” she says in Nordic to the door, before the girl starts banging.

The door creaks open. She’s taller than them now, the Jarl’s fosterling. She’s broader. Her arms are like barrels. Still, she ducks her head in the doorway with sheepish deference: their scrib, their little Lydia, whose eyes widen when she sees Irileth’s back.

“I—I came to tell you that we’re leaving tomorrow,” she says, wrestling pain and resentment from her face. She had wanted, Jenassa remembers, to ride to the watchtower with Irileth—who’d barked at her, with customary tact, to man the wall instead. “At first light. That’s all.”

Irileth, with customary tact, lifts her chin like a legate. “You should be asleep, then.”

Lydia raises her eyebrows.

“Housecarl,” she murmurs, and stoops to kiss Irileth’s cheek—and Jenassa’s, too, smiling against the flaking yellow paint. Then she slips out again, quick as she came, sure and silent as a wolf.

It’s Irileth, after, who is strong enough to speak. She clears her throat. Her voice, when she finds it, scrapes like an ash-choked gate. “Nilo.”

Jenassa swallows. The room feels darker. Smaller. She is glad she did not laugh.

“I know,” she says.

She waits. It is much of what they say to each other, this waiting.

“Outlanders,” Irileth mumbles at last, in disgust. She is speaking of the war, of course, rather than the more painful subject. “Can’t squabble over a chair without—marching their children at each other.”

They are outlanders too, now, Jenassa does not say. She rests her forehead on Irileth’s shoulder. She slips a careful arm, scored with long Tong ritual-scars, around the other woman’s waist.

“Our way,” she says in wry Velothis, “was better.”

* * *

At first light, so as to evade any fanfare, two travelers ride out of Whiterun. They sit straight and stern and awkward in their saddles, rising tall above the rubble and scorched wheat, and say nothing at all to each other until the sun glints, far ahead, on something bright.

Helmets, Lydia thinks. She squints down the road. “Legionaries?”

The Dragonborn raises her eyebrows. Her sword-arm, which Arcadia has assured them will heal quickly, sits snug in a sling bound to her chest.

“You will defend me,” she says, straight-faced, “if they try to cut off my head?”

Lydia recalls the solemnity of her oath. She decides against smiling. “Yes, my Thane.”

They rein their horses aside to let the cohort pass. A soldier near the head of the line—a Tojay standard-bearer, perhaps their age, with an open, clever face—casts a curious glance back at them as her fellows, fresh-faced and bright-mailed, nudge her in the opposite direction.

#skyrim #microfic #irileth #jenassa #lydia #oc tag #ayo #shurri #harrald they're thespians?

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scribeofskyrim · 18 days ago

Text

Tirdas, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 201

Thank the Divines for a quiet day.

I slept terribly. I fell asleep in the carriage and woke up when we stopped at Solitude early this morning. It wasn't even sunup when we arrived, and we took our time walking up the hill to the city gates.

Nothing was open when we got there except for the Winking Skeever, so we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast while we waited for Beirand to open his forge. We'd found a few random weapons and bits of armor that we'd missed selling back in Windhelm, so those needed to go. I also wanted to get some steel and iron ingots to use back at the house.

It was a quick visit with Beirand - He and Sayma are doing well - and we stopped in at the fletcher to get some decent arrows for Lydia.

I was about to go down the long stairway to the water's edge when Lydia asked if I had something to do at the Bard's College?

I'd completely forgotten about the book, so I asked them to stay by the steps while I ran over and handed it off.

The Bard's college is huge, and beautiful. I was just wandering around, looking for Giraud Gemane, and spent a moment listening in on a class. The teachers are strict, but I'm not surprised. Bards from Skyrim are in big demand all over the Empire, and everyone says they're the best of the best.

While I was wondering how well Erandur did here as a student, an older Altmer came up to me and asked if I was interested in joining the college. I declined, and he introduced himself.

It was Viarmo, the Headmaster. The same person that kicked Erandur out of the college. He asked what I was doing there, and I explained I was just dropping in for a delivery. He said that Giraud tended to sleep late, but should be up momentarily.

He excused himself, and then I heard some banging on a door from down a side hallway.

It was hard not to laugh when a sleepy-looking man came up a few moments later, adjusting his hat. I handed over the book from Adonato and he was surprised at how short it is. Still, he was excited to read it, so I accepted a delivery fee and went on my way.

I met back up with the others, and we left for here.

I'd almost forgotten how sharp that first dip in the water is! It nearly knocked the wind out of me, but I managed to get to the other side without freezing to death. The trip through the swamp was quiet besides a pair of frostbite spiders, but they were no problem.

The house was fine, and we all took a moment to dry off and warm up around the fire. Septim flopped down and promptly fell asleep.

Once we'd gotten all of our extra things put away and somewhat organized, Lydia helped me finish up a few more bookcases for the library. Valdimar did a bit of cooking, and Erandur stood next to the fire, chatting with him while he worked.

The others just relaxed or did small chores around the house while I spent the rest of the day sorting through books for the library.

Exciting, I know, but it needs done and I'm looking forward to having a well-organized collection.

I did take breaks to work on getting the cellar and back room together. Downstairs, I got a few practice dummies put up and a set of shelves for some shrines. I'll have to ask Erandur on how to get an amulet of Mara so I can build a shrine to her down here.

I also got a forge and a washbasin set up, which is good. I'll need it so I can wash off after smithing or practicing, but down here's private enough we can take baths. The forge makes it nice and toasty, so it ought to be comfortable, too.

And even though it's early, I'm going to get some sleep.

I ran out of logs (again) so tomorrow I'll have to take another swim and order more from the mill.

Lydia just reminded me! She asked what my plan was, and when I told her about the mill, she said to not forget the people up at Stonehills. He said he might have some ingots for me if I delivered his message, and I could definitely use them.

Worth a look, at least.

#skyrim #writing #journal #rpg #fiction #the elder scrolls #tesblr #fanfic #bronwens journal #skyrim fanfiction #the elder scrolls skyrim #skyrim fanfic #winstand manor #solitude #bard's college #viarmo

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ten-chocolate-sundaes · 7 months ago

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Hiiii hiiii I haven't seen you talk about your Maitlands ocs but I have chosen some questions that I personally like for you!!!!!!

Would your character wear something someone else picked out for them?

Does your character ever spend more than they have?

Does your character personify objects?

How big is your character's appetite?

Is your character food motivated?

Is your character good with animals?

Is there a creature that scares your character?

What animal would your character say best represents them?

How would your character react to being put in a position of leadership?

What would it take for your character to get into a fight?

What words could tear your character down?How often does your character have nightmares?

How often does your character have nightmares?

Because I don't know how many you have, I chose a bunch!!! :D feel free to ask about my stupid idiot man.

Kskdkddkkd thank youuu I never talk about them but they live in my head forever and ever.

I’ll keep it to their parents & their cat (her name is Nephthys <3). For context cause I rarely talk about them Barb’s mom is dead but the rest of them are alive. I still haven’t come up with final names for the parents yet shhh

Would your character wear something someone else picked out for them?

Adam’s dad - absolutely not. man’s annoying as hell.

Adam’s mom - yes, she dresses however her husband tells her to (they have a really unhealthy relationship)

Barbara’s dad - yes, he’s really chill.

Barbara’s mom - she used to dress up however babs wanted her to

Nephthys - she’ll wear a collar if adam puts it on her, but other than that, no way.

Does your character ever spend more than they have?

Adam’s parents - no, they’re super frugal

Barbara’s parents - no, they were middle class and were careful but reasonable shoppers. barb’s mom was always trying to make sure she had enough money for college.

Nephthys - that cat is lucky the deetzes are rich.

Does your character personify objects?

Adam’s parents - no, they’re no fun

Barbara’s dad - not really, but occasionally would when barbara was little.

Barbara’s mom - all the time. it’s part of the reason barbara personifies objects all the time; she developed the habit when her mom died.

Nephthys - no, but she can see dead people.

How big is your character's appetite?

Adam’s dad - average.

Adam’s mom - large, but she doesn’t eat much.

Barbara’s parents - average

Nephthys - so fucking big. that cat could eat a horse.

Is your character food motivated?

I don’t really know about anyone else, but Nephthys sure is. She’s picky, though.

Is your character good with animals?

Adam’s dad - no, but not for lack of trying.

Adam’s mom - in the middle. they’re ok with her I guess.

Barbara’s dad - animals like him. they have a family dog that’s really comfortable with him.

Barbara’s mom - Disney Princess level animal person. she’s like a cute animal magnet.

Nephthys - despite being an animal, she’s a jerk to other creatures and fights anyone who isn’t babs, adam, lydia, beej, or charles. Delia is Not Safe.

Is there a creature that scares your character?

Adam’s dad - Beetlejuice, once they meet. And snakes.

Adam’s mom - does her husband count? also beej.

Barbara’s dad - spiders. and beej to a small but present extent.

Barbara’s mom - she’s not afraid of creatures, but concepts.

Nephthys - she isn’t afraid of creatures. creatures are afraid of her.

What animal would your character say best represents them?

Adam’s dad - bear

Adam’s mom - yorkie(?)

Barbara’s dad- aussie shepherd? some kind of big sweet dog

Barbara’s mom - deer

Nephthys- demon.

How would your character react to being put in a position of leadership?

Adam’s dad - oh, he’d be so bossy. it’d be awful for everyone else involved, but he’d love it.

Adam’s mom - she’d be so scared and probably try to pin it off on someone else.

Barbara’s dad - he’d be nervous, but take it in stride and be a great leader.

Barbara’s mom - she’d be flattered, and you’d be lucky to have her as your boss.

Nephthys - demand wet food. silly cat.

What would it take for your character to get into a fight?

Adam’s dad- very little.

Adam’s mom - she’d rather die than get in a fight. she gets angry, but she’s too afraid of the consequences of asserting herself.

Barbara’s dad - he’s pretty reasonable, but politics will get him riled up.

Barbara’s mom - if anyone said anything bad about her daughter, she’d murder them.

Nephthys - fights are enrichment for her. she’d defend babs and adam from anything in their way.

What words could tear your character down?

Adam’s dad - any argument from his family. he doesn’t know how to deal with not being the one with the power.

Adam’s mom - being told she’s fake. she’s afraid of being seen through and criticized for being unable to truly fit societal expectations.

Barbara’s dad - being told he’s a bad father. he gives his everything to be good to barbara, especially after his wife dies, so someone telling him he’s not good enough would kill him.

Barbara’s mom - barbara losing hope. her last days were her hardest because she had to see her teenage daughter act like there’s not life without her.

Nephthys - on a way lighter note, any scolding will make her very sad :( sensitive kitty

How often does your character have nightmares?

Adam’s dad - often. his conscious is guilty and that’s the way it manifests.

Adam’s mom - an average amount

Barbara’s dad - less than the average person

Barbara’s mom - less than average until her accident; her last weeks are full of nightmares.

Nephthys - she is the nightmare.

I’ll ask abt your lil guys, don’t worry 😉

#asks #beetlejuice #ocs #nephthys maitland

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