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#mine—drabbles
usedtobecooler · 3 months
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eddie ‘monstercock’ munson, who is painfully unaware of the sheer size of his dick.
tw: sexual content 18+ minors dni, size kink, oral m receiving, piv sex, praise kink, dirty talk, general debauchery. for my love @raccoonboywrites
and, listen, you’re not a size queen at all. don’t care much for how big or small a cock is so long as whoever it’s attached to knows how to use it. but you gasp out loud once you get your fingers dig under eddie’s waistband, pulling the offending material down to let his length spring out.
it’s enough to shock you back into the room, watching as the thick weight of it slaps against eddie’s tummy, the way it curves into his navel. he’s wet, leaking at the head and matting down the pretty swirls of black hair that lead a trail down, down, down.
he’s rumpled against your bed frame, slumped down with his shirt rucked up his tummy. the prettiest pink flush spreading across his cheeks, tinging his ears and dipping as low as his collar. you’re willing to bet his chest is blotched with the lovely rosy colour, too. he grips aimlessly at your comforter, wide eyes watching your every move; tracing every hitch of your breath.
you wrap your hand around the base — purposely ignoring the pathetic little whine eddie makes, because jesus now isn’t the time to think too much about that — and you moan despite yourself when your hand doesn’t even wrap fully around the girth of it, dwarfing your fingers and palm.
“you— you’re so big, oh my god,” your voice catches at the end, desperate and dampened by your own desire for it. you lean forward, hot breath ghosting over him, tugging his foreskin back just enough for the head to pop out, shiny and reddening with need, “you could’ve at least warned me you were packing a python down there, fuck.”
“oh shit, really? i thought it was aver— holy fuck, you don’t have to—“ he’s bug eyed, eyebrows shooting under his fringe as you mouth at the head, determined and eager to get a taste of him. uncut, heavy on your tongue, the heady splash of precum blurting out to coat your tastebuds.
eddie’s knees kick up a little as you mouth greedily at his tip, pointing your tongue to run in circles around the glans on the underside. you smirk despite yourself, getting a kick out of it when eddie goes a little cross eyed, burying a ringed hand into your hair.
you indulge yourself, feeling the weight of him in your mouth as you sink lower, just far back enough as to not trigger your gag reflex. your lips wrapping around his hot flesh, suckling softly, reveling in each blurt of pearlescent release that drips onto your tongue.
“baby, sweetheart — fuck,” eddie gasps, breath shuddery, lightly pulling at your tresses to test the water. his mouth falling open into a quiet moan when your eyes flutter at the feeling, “y’can- y’can take more, right? s’not… s’not that big.”
your jaw cracks under what of him you’ve fit in, which truthfully isn’t much. despite your efforts, there’s still a good three inches of eddie’s cock left untouched by hand or mouth, and you really have to wonder if he’s that clueless of his size. you pull off with a wet pop, strings of saliva keeping you connected to him as you stare up with wet orbs.
“eddie, you’re huge.” your voice is wrecked, butterflies swirling in your tummy as you make eye contact with him once again. you flush under his debauched gaze, "i— shit. nobody's ever told you before?"
eddie shrugs, considers for a moment. you don't think he's aware of the fact he's holding you in place with his hand, gripping your hair just enough to keep you still, hovering over his dick just close enough that if he wanted to, he could push you back down, get your mouth back on him.
though, that’s clearly not what he wants. because, he’s slipping the hand from your hair, doing this kind of awkward dance as he lays you out where he wants you.
you end up on your back, thighs spread wide as eddie slots between them, mouthing hotly at your neck. his fingers graze along your flushed skin, dance on your hipbone, across your pelvis. dips those godforsaken fingers into your panties, carelessly fumbling over your sopping wet pussy.
“this is okay, right?”
“it’s all okay, eddie. anything you want.”
"not— not even touched you yet and you're already this wet?" eddie's voice is a low timbre against your skin, has you arching up into his touch with a soft little moan. he sounds shocked, no heat or teasing in his words.
"can't help it," you gasp, exhaling shakily when eddie swipes two fingers over your clit deftly, unable to hide his smile at how receptive you are, "feeling the size of you in my hand — my mouth, god. would've let you choke me with it, would've thanked you."
eddie buries his face into your cleavage, poorly concealing a choked whine. he's skillful with his fingers, working you over fast despite how much your words are clearly affecting him.
your hips rock in short little circles, fingers sinking into eddie's hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck. you whine, body set alight with the feeling of calloused fingers grazing the small bundle of nerves.
he's biting you, brandishing you with little blooming bruises, and with the noise he makes against your damp skin you'd think it was him getting touched like this, him hurtling towards the edge.
you're so wet that the slick noises of eddie's fingers on your pussy are deafening in your ears, causing your back to prickle with heat, tummy winding tight.
the hot, heavy flesh of his cock presses against your inner thigh, shocking loud moans from you both at the same time. you arch up into his touch, ears ringing as pleasure takes over your body.
"i— you're making me cum," you gasp breathily, a static feeling warming your body, eyes rolling into the back of your head. you grapple for eddie's hair once more, tugging with a ferocity as your release washes over you.
it's. something. you feel like you're fucking floating, and eddie keeps swirling his fingers perfectly, whispering little shocked praises and keening into your rough pulling as he wrings you out.
once eddie's sure you're done with the aftershocks of your orgasm, he hazards pushing two fingers into your soaked cunt, and you're practically shooting away with overstimulation. crying out, somehow swivelling your hips and pushing down onto his fingers further once the shock wears off.
"you're a shit," you gasp, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, "god, might've known your dick was gonna be big, fuckin' size of your fingers."
"was— was that good for you? can i, shit can i?" eddie's desperate, rutting the thick outline of his cock against your thigh. he's never stopped fucking leaking, soaking your leg in milky precum and allowing the slip and slide to feel good.
you nod, shaky hands tilting his head up so you can finally, finally, get your mouth on his. eddie's whole body presses flush against yours, his hand coming out to stabilise himself so he doesn't crush you, and fuck.
it's so charged, like he can't stilt his emotions as he snakes his tongue into your mouth, lapping at your own wetly. it's probably disgusting, doesn't feel like it though — you'd swallow his spit happily, whenever he wanted, if it meant he kept making you feel like this.
eddie's shaky hand fumbles for the base of his cock as you continue kissing, positioning himself so that he's nestled prettily between your legs. the kisses turn languid, and he almost sounds pained when he next speaks, "s-sorry. if it, if it hurts."
"let it hurt, i want it to," your demeanor falters a little, turning doe eyed and pleading as eddie slides the ruddy head of his cock up and down the seam of your cunt, flirts with the idea of pushing the tip in just to watch you gasp and keen.
"would never," eddie promises, finally — fucking, finally — pushing the first few inches into the sopping wet heat of your pussy. he cries out when you clench around him unwittingly, and you mumble out a small sorry as you adjust.
it's. not good. it's not bad, either, but fuck. you feel like you're being split from the inside, the thick tip pushing you wider than you anticipated. your fingers grapple for eddie's biceps, nails digging in tightly, "so fucking big, oh my god, you're gonna split me in half."
you're breathless and eddie catches on, panics a little, "you're okay? you're okay, right? i can sto—"
"if you stop, i swear to god," you seethe, looking at eddie with a fierce spark in your eyes, "keep going. fuck. keep going."
before long and with a little bit of resistance, eddie's buried deep inside of you. your bodies roll against one anothers, shallow, slow breaths
it starts slow, the catch and drag of eddie's cock shocking you both into silence. but, before long, your pussy catches up with the programme, gushing wet and allowing eddie to push in further with each thrust.
it's intimate, erotic.
"you're so tight," eddie all-out whimpers, head falling and shoulders shaking as he fucks you at a lazy pace, clearly trying his best to hold out for as long as he can.
"fuck, you’re so gentle,” you try, knees squeezing eddie’s narrow waist, thighs encapsulating him, “you can go quicker. not gonna break me.”
eddie shakes his head, almost like he’s bewildered. looks at you all fucking soft, clearly can’t help the rut of his hips as he buries in deep, biting his inner lips to muffle his noises.
you grasp a hold of eddie's hand with nimble fingers, guide his hand over the softness of your tummy, let him push down where his cock is buried deep inside of you. his whole body shudders, and you can feel where he kicks up.
"practically in my guts," you wheeze, unable to shake the full feeling despite how your pussy gushes for him, so full you swear you feel him in your throat with every deep thrust he can muster, "you're s-so big, eddie."
"oh— jesus, can't do shit like that. can't say shit like that," eddie grunts desperately, rutting into you and gripping for your waist tightly, other hand still pushed down on the pudge of your belly, "gonna make me cum so, so quick."
"can feel every ridge of you, you're splitting me apart," you keen, "i can't— god, you've ruined me f-for anyone else. yours, yours, m'yours."
eddie's forehead slumps against your own, and you're panting into each others mouths more than anything else, lips barely brushing, "mine, you're mine." he agrees, though he sounds pained and submissive as he says it.
your hand snakes around eddie's neck, holding him in place as he fucks you so desperately, so rough you're rattling the stupid bedframe, and you don't think you've ever felt anything like this before. it's all-consuming, the tug between sore and soul-crushingly sensual.
your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, the constant press against your spot causing a quicker build up than you could've anticipated. you both make eye contact as you come with a muted gasp, nails scraping harshly at the soft skin on eddie's neck as you rock it out.
"didn't think you could get any tighter, god," eddie whimpers, eyes squeezing shut, finger-shaped bruises sure to be left on your hips as he fucks you in some sort of reckless abandon, "fuck, i'm so close. i'm so sorry, fuck, fuck."
you nod, understanding, the wet clap of skin on skin deafening as your release allows an even smoother glide. he's fucking ethereal above you, covered in a light sheen of sweat, mouth open in a constant stream of steady moans.
you reach between where both of your bodies meet, where the final few inches don't quite fit, spreading your fingers either side of his cock to allow friction as he fucks in and out rapidly, chasing his high.
eddie looks at you with a wild expression, eyebrows shooting up into his fringe. he grunts like a fucking animal, eyes drifting down to where your hand is, "you— you— i'm cumming, holy fuck—!"
he's loud when he comes, full body wracked with it. you feel his cock pulse and kick inside of you, painting your insides deep. the moan you let out at the feeling is hardly voluntary, so pathetic you flush hot when you realise just how loud you are.
"thank you, thank you," eddie's mumbling against your skin, kissing the side of your neck softly as he comes down, "god, you're perfect. so perfect."
you shudder, overcome with this sappy fucking fond feeling, allowing eddie to collapse on top of you once he's done. it's soft, domestic, even.
you both end up in some sort of gross, body fluid covered cuddle as you calm down. blissed out in the post-orgasmic haze, and fuck.
maybe you're in love with him.
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stevesjockstrap · 6 months
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Eddie discovers origami and very soon the surfaces in Steve’s room are overrun with cranes and frogs and fish and butterflies.
One day he sees writing on a wing of one and slides it apart.
Those two moles on your neck make me want to bite them.
He reaches over for another one that says, I want to live in your chest hair.
Eddie walks through the door to see Steve in a heap of opened notes on the floor.
“You just now opened them?”
“I… I didn’t know.”
“Then why did you keep all of them?”
“Because they were from you.”
“Oh.”
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mimixmunson · 1 month
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Imagine Steve finding out Eddie’s birth name is actually Theodore and he insists on calling him Theodore for a week straight as revenge for the many times Eddie has called him Steven.
Theodore turns to ‘Theodorable’ just to make Eddie roll his eyes, but then he just calls him Theo for a while and Eddie is really growing sick of it. To the point where he’s got Steve pinned to the wall growling in his ear about how “pretty boys usually have manners.”
Steve feeling as bratty as ever responds with “Yes Theodore anything for you Theodore.” <3
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captainswhore · 16 days
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you see price sitting like this when you walk into a room post mission- and you know exactly what it is he needs.
he's licking at you and holding your thighs open with his rough palms- and you can't take it. his calluses and his beard and the fabric of his sleeves are rubbing at your legs just right- but not enough for you to lose focus on his hot tongue rubbing on you and in you and you've never been wetter in your LIFE.
his only problem? you're still moving too much. he can't reach where he wants to inside of you because you keep wiggling out of his way. his hands want to touch you everywhere- not just hold your thighs still. this is when he begins to squeeze at you everywhere, and tell you to rest your thighs on his shoulders.
"b-but price- hhnngh ohmygod- i c-can't. they're too big. thighs are too big"
you whine at the loss of contact, but then you look down and see him staring at you with massive pupils and a wet face. "lovie- my shoulders are broad for a reason. rest your thighs on em and i swear they'll have enough room"
and you listen, and you're crushing his ears with your thighs, and he's never been happier. the next time you look down? he's rutting into the mattress and you see his hips stutter when he groans into you and your vision goes white
(@chamomiletealeaf and i had SUCH A HORNY discussion about this and she told me to post it so here i am- and also omg photo creds to her. we've gotta reign it in lmfao)
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teasteeper · 1 month
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jaemin x f!reader, smut 18+ minors dni
*repost from my old blog
bf!jaemin who has such a high sex drive, so energetic and cocky, smirking up at you as he bounces you on his big cock, making you cum for the third time
your thighs are shaking and sticky with your slick, muscles screaming for rest and your skin sweaty and flushed from the effort. jaemin’s big hands are holding up all your weight as his fingers press into the flesh of your hips, lifting you up and slamming you down over his hips over and over. your fucked out body trembles each time his cockhead pushes against your cervix, the only noises you’re able to make are stuttered and mumbled utterances of his name along with tired and strangled whines
jaemin’s just smiling smugly at the way he’s making you fall apart, flashing his prefect teeth before bringing a big hand up to your face, hooking the hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear before holding your jaw firmly between his long fingers, “wake up, cute girl .. c’mon, baby, open your pretty eyes”
“jaem .. s’too much ..”
“but your pussy’s squeezing me so nicely, baby, you can do one more, c’mere”
he flips your bodies so you’re on your back beneath him before he’s grabbing your bruised hips and flipping you onto your tummy. his long fingers press into the flesh of your thighs as he pulls them apart. he’d lean down to kiss and lick at your puffy and dripping cunt, kneading the backs of your thighs. he’d pull his face away to inspect your sex, dipping his fingers between your slick lips, your tight wetness squelching around his digits as he pushed them into you, “your pussy’s so tight, baby, s’begging to cum again”
jaemin lays down beside you, lifting one of your hips and pulling it towards him so you’re his little spoon, his broad chest against your back and his throbbing cock pressed against your ass. one of his big biceps rests under your head as he wraps his arm around your neck, slightly squeezing your throat between his bicep and forearm and laughing against the shell of your ear as you gasp and scratch at his arm
he pushes into you so slowly, shushing you and running his big palm up and down your torso and the curve of your hip as he bottoms out in your tight sex. he picks up the pace, ignoring your crying and whining as he fucks up into you, your bruised walls pulsing around every inch of his wet cock, his full balls slapping against your sensitive clit
he gets so fucked out and lost in how wet and warm you are, he swings his leg over your hip so he’s pinning you down, pounding you into the mattress. you’re getting dizzy from the headlock he has you in and his raspy grunts and moans he’s spilling into your ear, your pussy so wrecked from the way he’s pounding into your walls so desperately
despite it being the fourth time he’s made you cum tonight, he’s so desperate for it, desperate to feel you squeeze and gush around him as he finally finishes, “that’s it, baby, thaaat’s it, fuckkk”, “don’t stop squeezing me, good girl, keep being good f’me”, “told you y’could take another”
after a few final thrusts to push his cum deeper into you, he’s flipping your limp body onto your back, sweeping your hair from your warm and flushed face and pressing a few soft kisses to your puffy lips before moving down the bed to inspect your pussy again. jaemin never misses the opportunity to watch his thick cum drip out of you, collecting the juices making a mess around your swollen pussy lips on his fingers and pushing it back into you, which overstimulates you, making your tired legs shake
he’ll bring his sticky fingers to your lips, “ahh”, having you taste yourselves, and he loves laying like that for a while, watching your pretty lips suckle around his long fingers, your bare chest rising and falling slowly, your sleepy and fucked out eyes look up at him as his cum still leaks out of you onto the sheets
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aidaronan · 1 year
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The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.
Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.
He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.
Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.
He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.
Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.
Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.
He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.
"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."
"Which was?"
"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."
"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."
"That's really nice, Eds."
Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"
Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.
He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...
He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.
He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.
He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.
It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.
"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.
Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.
He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."
"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."
Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.
"You made this whole thing?"
"I did."
"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.
He nods. "For you."
"Why?"
There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."
Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.
"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."
"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."
"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.
"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."
Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.
"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."
"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"
"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."
Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.
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ghostlygeto · 8 months
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let me be your mirror | astarion
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pairing: astarion x gn!tav / reader
warnings: spoilers for early romance w astarion, fluff, kind of follows canon dialogue, reader pining hard, reader is an artist this has been done with this exact scenario surely, astarion calls reader “darling”, “my sweet”, also “dove” which isn’t canon, reader and astarion aren’t really together but i mean. yeah they are. not proof read!!!!!
word count: 1.1k
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you had been drawing astarion for much longer than you’d care to admit. though the dates scribbled on the bottom of each page betrayed you, exposing that you had drawn astarion close to every day for a month.
it started off innocently, you drew all of your party members when you had first met them. you were stressed and overwhelmed with your situation at hand, the tadpole snugly sat behind your eye squirming to remind you of your devastating truth: you’d soon become a mindflayer if you couldn’t find a cure. on nights you couldn’t sleep or mornings you’d woken up early, you found yourself drawing. it had always been a way you’d let off your steam, now was no exception.
when the stress of your situation died down, as did your drawings of your now friends. you had a couple day’s worth of gale and lae’zel, and probably a week of shadowheart. but astarion? it seemed every time your tool of choice hit the paper he had been the outcome.
you weren’t ashamed of it by any means. astarion is a gorgeous man, blood sucking monster or not. his eyes captivated you (as proven by the amount of drawings of them alone), and his voice had your attention like no other. if the nature of things were any different, you might be willing to confess you were in love with him.
so when the night came and everyone had fallen asleep but the two of you, and astarion had let it slip that he hadn’t seen his reflection in two hundred years, your heart broke. he didn’t know the way his curls hooked around his ears, or the way the corners of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly when he’d successfully kill a goblin. and his eyes, gods his eyes. you’d have to be dense to miss the way they light up at the very sight of you. knowing he didn’t get to enjoy the very things you adore about him devastated you.
“what color were they before?” you asked, arms wrapped tightly around your legs to hug them close to your chest. “your eyes, before you were turned.” your cheek pressed against your knee as you looked to him.
“my eyes?” astarion sounded surprised you’d asked him such a thing. “i don’t..i don’t remember.”
that felt like the final nail in your coffin. your heart ached more for him now that it had before, if that were even possible. if he didn’t remember his eye color, his hair color was probably long forgotten as well. it felt impossible to wrap your head around, you knew the shade of your eyes and tone of your hair by heart. the idea of forgetting it, well, you were sure you’d have to be dead to forget.
“what’s going on in that head of yours, darling?” his tone almost made you forget your sadness. it seemed anytime he spoke to you now his words were laced with honey, drawing you in and sticking to you.
“you haven’t seen yourself in two decades,” you repeat his previous words back to him, “you hardly remember your own face, is that not the least bit devastating to you?”
astarion hesitated before replying to you, trying to chose his words carefully. “of course it is. but there’s nothing i can do to change it, so why bother being upset?”
you chewed the inside of your cheek. of course you had the solution. you had probably close to twenty drawings of his face alone that could provide him some solace about the entire thing. but what if he thought you were weird for it? none of them knew of your little hobby, he could expose it to the others and they could cast you out for invading their privacy. and well, your infatuation toward him was nothing short of romantic. you weren’t sure he needed to know that, but exposing your drawings to him would make it clear.
“i can feel your tadpole wriggling around, what’s wrong, my sweet?” his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you finally managed to speak.
“let me be your mirror,” you offered, raising your head from your knees. you could practically see his thought process, and you didn’t miss the small smirk on his face. “what do you want to know?”
“i want to know what the world sees when it looks at me,” astarion held his usual cocky tone for a moment, but for a second it faultered. “what you see.”
“close your eyes,” he obeyed, wondering what it was exactly you were making him close them for. it wasn’t until he heard shuffling in your tent beside him that he opened them and called out to you confused.
“what are you doing? what in your tent could ever allow you to be my mirror?”
“hush, would you?” you roll your eyes at him as you step out from your shelter and back toward him. you took a deep breath before sitting back down next to him, offering him the pile of papers. “here.”
for the first time since you had met him, astarion was speechless. he wasn’t sure what he was expecting from you, maybe a few put together compliments for him to tease you about before leaving the conversation at that. but this? he had no idea that you could draw, let alone that you’d use such a talent to draw someone like him.
“i know it might be weird, sorry,” you hide your face from him, afraid of his reaction. “i’m sure it might not be comforting to know someone you had barely known until recently has been drawing you for-”
“i don’t find it weird,” he interrupted you, gently grabbing your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, “look at me,” guiding your eyes to his, astarion offered you a smile. not a cocky smile or his usual smirk, but rather a real smile. one you weren’t sure you’d seen from him before. “thank you…for this. they’re beautiful. and i…i could never express my gratitude to you,”
you removed your chin from his hold and waved your hand at him, dismissing his words. “don’t say all that astarion. you make an amazing muse, it’d be criminal of me to not make use of that.” you chose to pretend the burning in your cheeks had been from the fire and not the blooming embarrassment.
“criminal, hm?” it didn’t take long for the astarion you had grown attached to to return, smirk plastered on his face. he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours before speaking again, his voice low and almost sultry, “well we wouldn’t want you to get arrested again, now would we, dove?”
“you ruined the moment, astarion,” you huff, pulling your legs back to your chest to rest your head on your knees again. “it’s getting late. we should sleep.”
astarion nodded, standing from his place and offering you his hand to help you up. “yes, i’d hate for a lack of sleep to ruin your muse,” he teased again, handing you back your drawings. “i’ll see you in the morning, darling.”
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reblogs, comments, and likes appreciated !!
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angelatsumu · 6 months
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thinking of husband!simon who can't get enough of making you cum. nsfw under the cut. | husband!simon, overstimulation (kinda), fingering
“surely you can give me another, lovie” your husband taunts you, eyes peering at your reflection in the mirror. he’s got your legs spread for him, trapped under his own legs as his fingers—middle and ring—find themselves curled deep within your cunt. he’s smirking at you teasingly while your head’s rested against his shoulder. normally he hates when your eyes break contact with his, but today he allows your brief reprieve from his gaze because he’s feeling generous. truthfully speaking, he knows he’ll be asking for ‘just one more’ at least two more times before you’re boneless before him. your lover curls his fingers along the spongy cushion buried within your walls, prodding the soft material with a coy grin splayed across his features. his eyes are sharp as he watches your hips wriggle against the assault in a weak attempt to free yourself. he’s feeling generous, so he lets that silly little action go unpunished. he figures he’ll tax you for each offense; give him one more for his troubles, sweet girl. you whine at the intoxicating thrusts of his digits against you, body overheating as the coil within your abdomen winds tight. the sounds of your squelching cunt makes your cheeks heat with embarrassment, only worsened with the teasing lilt of your husband’s filthy words in your ear. “doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. ‘s almost too much isn’t it, baby?” he sounds like pure sin, panting as though the sheer feel of your cunt squeezing his fingers would do him in. you both know it would; your lover could cum with the sheer feel of your cunt spasming around his tongue, let alone his fingers. he’s hard against your ass, and each wiggle and writhe of your sweet hips making him grunt deeply against your skin. the tightening in your cunt alongside the soft moans of his name let your lover know you’re so close to the edge, so close that you can practically already taste it. he knows, and he makes sure you reach that peak quicker by circling your hard, throbbing clit with his thumb. “oh, sweet girl,” your husband coos at you as your orgasms crests, leaving you trembling in his grasp. Simon’s a bit cruel with the way he thrusts his fingers harder against that sweet spot while spewing filthily in your ear. it’s too much, always too much when he’s this sexy and all yours before him. as you ride out your orgasm, he coaxes you into rocking your hips against his thick fingers. “ride my hand baby, watch yourself ride my fuckin’ hand,” he moans in your ear, free hand gripping your jaw and forcing your gaze to your reflection in the mirror. the sight is enough to have your cunt squeezing his fingers so tight he could barely move, huffs and whines slipping from your pretty lips while he continues his assault on your overstimulated cunt. “please, Si” you whimper with warmed cheeks, eyes pleadingly looking into his own. he lets out a gruff groan, relishing in the tears that speckle your lash line. “just one more,”he lies to you, and you whimper softly knowing it’d be far more than one before you were done.
a/n: rbs + likes greatly appreciated. also, taking requests. also also, if you'd like the insanely long (and kinda fanon/self-indulgent) oneshot i wrote for halloween!simon, lmk
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steddiehyperfixation · 7 months
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eddie munson has only ever been kissed in clubs, in crowds, under deafening music and flashing lights with more alcohol in his veins than blood. he knows what it's like to kiss rough and want carnally, to be pushed against walls and dragged into bathroom stalls.
but what is it like to kiss someone and have it mean something? what is it like to know someone's soul, or even just their name, before their lips, before their body?
what is it like to kiss someone and feel something? what is it like to have a kiss make your heart beat louder than the music and set off fireworks in your body brighter than the flashing lights?
that's something he's never known, something he's starting to believe he never will. maybe it's something he's not even capable of knowing.
he's loved before, never been loved in return. the men he's cared for, fallen for, in any real way were always ones who would never be able to care for him the same. the only men willing to kiss him are the ones who dance away at the end of the night and leave only faceless, nameless memories in his hazy mind.
until steve harrington. until a chance encounter in a gay club with a high school crush years after high school has ended.
it's the same old story: too-loud music and strobe lights; drunk and dancing closer, trading glances and smirks until hands land on waists and slide over hips and lips crash together and bodies collide. it's the same old story: kissing hard and wandering hands and grinding hips; eddie gets pressed back into the gross wall damp with the humid sweat of all the other bodies in the room.
but steve doesn't dance away at the end of it. he pulls away with a grin, keeping his fingers entangled with eddie's as he jumps and shouts along to the lyrics of the song that just came on. he dances with eddie innocently then, just for the fun of it, not like he's trying to get any more out of him.
and when he tugs on eddie's hand and drags him from the dance floor, it's not to a bathroom stall but to the bar where he buys eddie a drink and they talk. they catch up on all the years that have passed between them, trade stories and laughter and banter that reawaken eddie's old crush and set it aflutter in his stomach like he's 17 again.
eventually they return to the dance floor. ("i love this song!" steve gasps, eyes lighting up, and how could eddie refuse?). after a song or two, steve pulls eddie into another kiss, hands and lips softer than before, yet still just as passionate.
and the music is still deafening and the lights are still flashing, but this time, finally, eddie's heartbeat is louder, the fireworks brighter.
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mimimunson · 3 months
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steve always thought he was the more intelligent one in the relationship until he saw eddie solve dustin’s rubix cube whilst smoking a joint and holding a conversation with the kids.
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usedtobecooler · 3 months
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being so desperate for steve harrington’s cock that even as you’re wailing and your chest is shuddering with needy breaths, you’re begging him to keep going.
“no, no— don’t stop, don’t stop, please steve,” gasping wetly and sobbing into his shoulder as he’s trying to pull out, doesn’t wanna hurt you, “please. it’s gotta fit, need you to fit in me, please don’t stop—“
“you’re killing me.” steve’s voice is strained, sounds just as desperate as you do, grips the base of his dick as he tries yet again to pull out only to have the vice grip of your thighs around his waist pulling him back in, “shit, fuck. don’t wanna hurt you and here you go… almost like you’re wantin’ it to hurt.”
you mouth hot against his mole flecked skin, tongue grazing over flushed, burning hot flesh, “you feel me opening for you, right?” you mumble, desperate and almost pathetic, “brand me with it. let me feel you for days. don’t care if it hurts, want you to hurt me.”
steve grunts low, sound akin to a growl as he bullies himself in an extra inch, almost like he can’t physically stop himself, and you’re shaking like a leaf under him. clinging onto him with sharp nails, hips swivelling to adjust to the intrusion, a sob ripping from your chest.
the hand wrapped around the base of his length brushes over your puffy opening as they meet, and steve shudders visibly as the backs of his fingers come into contact with the sopping wet heat of your pussy.
“you’re so desperate, god,” steve’s voice is barely above a murmur, free hand loosely wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you out of your hiding spot in his shoulder.
the eye contact, fingers buried deep in your hair is almost enough to have you tapping out. he stares at you with an intensity that almost makes you feel sick, body flushed hot with a new level of primal desire. you keen into him, neck arching as he pulls lightly at your tresses.
“baby. you look so pretty. begging for me to wreck you like this.” he speaks like he’s in awe, honey flecked eyes swirling with lust and want. he pushes in a bit further, relishes at the sickly sweet moan that he punches out of you, “louder, baby. want to hear every noise you make when i take you apart.”
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stevesjockstrap · 8 months
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Feral linecook Eddie Munson shamelessly flirting with brand new never worked in a kitchen before in his life server Steve Harrington
Makes a point to fuck up dishes for his tables so they get returned and he gets to see the embarrassed blush across his freckled cheeks when he brings them back, and so he has to spend more time at the window where Eddie can say raunchy things to him
Eddie showing him diligently how to do his side work before he can leave, so he can walk out with him and offer him a hit of his joint when they’re done
Steve scared to put in his tickets for his own meals because then Eddie will know he’s on break and take his own break, sprawled out on a folding chair in the back room, shamelessly staring at him
Steve staring back at his tattoos and piercings and the little tendrils of hair that fall out of his updo
Gareth beside him on the line snickering into his shoulder at the absolutely unhinged things Eddie gets away with saying and doing
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secretlytranced · 5 months
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She woke up naked and kneeling on the thin carpet; knees spread, fingers jammed into her cunt. Her body was trembling with stunted pleasure and a wave of confusion washed over her.
“What the fuck-”
A figure loomed behind her, footsteps falling like anvils. She froze, scared but unable to stop her thrusting hand or the approaching orgasm.
“As I told you, you cannot stop.” The voice was deep and smooth, it flowed through her mind like warm honey.
The fear subsided; the pleasure increased.
“I… I can't stop…” And, she couldn't. Her hand was not her own, seemingly operated by someone, something else. “Can't… stop…”
“You cannot,” the voice agreed. “You cannot do anything but what I command. And why is that?”
Her thoughts were a sea of soft, jumbled words and sparkling, spinning images that she couldn't possibly work through. The more he spoke, the harder it was to think.
Still, she answered. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, expressionless and sure.
“Because- I- I only obey.” The pleasure increased. “I only obey.” Her pussy fluttered around her hand. “I only obey.” Wetness dripped down her wrist. “I only obey.” Her head cleared, calm and empty. “I. Only. Obey.” 
“That's right, toy…”
She smiled, blank and ready once more to obey.
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MONSTERFUCKER RAINE WHISPERS TRUTHERS HOW ARE WE FEELING TONIGHT
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teasteeper · 1 month
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jaemin x f!reader, “daddy”, smut 18+ minors dni
*repost from my old blog
wanna get babied by jaemin before he gets rough, making you all soft before using you over and over ;c
he always starts off so soft and sweet with you, holding you to his buff chest in your soft bed, pulling your leg over his hip and running a big hand up and down your bare thigh. his long fingers run through your hair and massage your scalp, knowing it makes you moan softly, your soft breath fanning against his neck
his hand on your thigh creeps up until he’s cupping your ass, fingers pressing into the skin peeking out through your sleep shorts. you’re getting so comfy and sleepy from his touch, the smell of his freshly washed shirt making you dizzy. you’re only slightly aware of his fingers ghosting over your pussy, moaning sleepily as you wrap your leg tighter around his hip
“you like that, kitty?” his voice is deep and tickles your scalp, his fingers rubbing soft circles over your panties. all you can utter is a broken “mmh..” as you push your face closer into his chest
he gets you all soft and vulnerable with his fingers, thick digits pumping into you as you lazily grind against his hand before he’s positioning you onto your back, kneeling between your thighs as he takes out his hard cock. you whine and squirm your hips as he pushes his fat length between your lips, “shh, what’s wrong? too big, hm?”
you nod your head sleepily up at him, tired eyes half shut and lips in a pout, knees beginning to push together before he’s spreading then apart with a firm grip, “don’t be like that, baby.. it fits ..fucking-g ..perfect-” he grunts as he starts fucking into you, eyelids fluttering shut from how tight you squeeze him. your sleepy whining just turns him on even more, going balls deep with each thrust so his tip prods the gummy sweet spot inside you
your stomach bulges at the size of him, your thighs trembling as he pushes a palm down on your tummy, your vision getting even fuzzier as you cum, "da-... mmh- ..cumming.." the groan he lets out is primal and deep, unlike the loud slap of his full balls against your ass. he fucks you through your orgasm, two fingers rubbing wet circles over your clit that's covered in your juices, just like his hand and hips, "y'squeeze daddy so fuckin' tight.. how's it even possible, huh? tightest little pussy.."
his big biceps cage your head against the pillow as he keeps fucking into your spent pussy relentlessly, not even pausing to let you catch your breath or wipe away the tears that make your vision all blurry, instantly overstimulating you and coercing your second orgasm out of you too fast
he has such a high sex drive and he’s so buff, sitting back on his heels and pulling your hips off the bed to pound into you at a new angle. your face gets hot and flushed at the way he's dragging your hips over his thighs like you're a doll, pussy gushing around his dick and squirting all over his lower tummy ;c he pries your arm away from your face because he wants to see your red cheeks and teary eyes.. it turns him on even more, "c'mon, kitty, stop that.. cry f'me, baby"
he groans so deep as he empties his balls into you, painting your gummy walls white as you spasm around him when your third orgasm washes over you. he leans back to pull his softening length out of you, leaning down to watch his cum make a mess over your puffy lips before he pushes it back into you with a thick finger. he'd pump his digit into you so slowly, shushing you as you whine form the oversitm
he lies down next to you and brings his sticky fingers to your mouth, looking down at you with heart eyes and a soft smile as he brushes your hair back from your warm face, watching you eat his cum from his fingers until you doze off
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starrystevie · 9 months
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steve who got a lower back tattoo on a drunken dare in his late 20s and forgets it's there most of the time. steve who stretches one night at a party and his shirt rides up exposing the swirling lines that peek out from under his belt line. steve who doesn't think anything of it and forgets to pull his shirt back down as he leans forward on the couch while talking with the group, basking in the welcomed burn of a certain pair of eyes locked on him.
eddie who's sitting next to him, gripping the back of the couch cushion where his arm is slung around his long term crush like it's the only tether he has to planet earth because not only does steve have a tattoo, but it's right there. eddie who takes in a shuddering breath and can't pull his gaze away from the ink that spreads low over tanned skin that he longs to explore. eddie who digs his other hand into his knee to keep it from doing anything stupid like running his fingers over the tattoo or pulling steve up to go to the spare bedroom.
steve who shoots frozen-in-place eddie a knowing smirk after a few seconds as he leans over even further before standing up and holding out his hand in invitation anyway. eddie who finds out later in the night that he doesn't have to wonder what the tattoo feels like under his fingers for much longer.
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