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evielmostdefinitely · 5 months

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scorned earth |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: the last stop on your honeymoon tour of the districts, leaves coriolanus to show you parts of his past, making new memories with you. based off this ask from the other day :)

contains: smut 18+. dark!possessive!coriolanus. mentions of corio's past. dom/sub dynamics. skinny dipping, semi-public sex. pinvsex. mean-ish!coriolanus.

“Where are you taking me?” You looked around at the tall trees, the sun peaking through the branches onto the moss covered ground. Your hand in Coriolanus’, fingers intertwined, letting him lead you through the thicket of trees.

“It’s a surprise, my love. I told you.” Coryo’s eyes were bright, daring with excitement. Turning back to look at you over his shoulder, the sun caught in his baby blues, making your heart skip. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You melted at his words, smiling softly. “Of course, I do.” You whispered, letting him tug you through the forest. “I-I’m just worried about snakes, or bears, or-”

“-I won’t let them hurt you.” Coryo smiled, squeezing your hand. The pistol resting on his hip offered some comfort to you. “That’s why I’m going first.”

You’d blame it on the warmth of the day, hot but breezy, as the reason you were so flustered at his words. The heat in your cheeks, tingling up your spine. District Twelve was the last stop on your tour, the last stop on your honeymoon. Coriolanus insisted on showing you around, to some of his favorite spots from his Peacekeeper days. After putting the town on a strict lockdown- you weren’t sure why he did it, but you didn't dare question it- he dragged you out here.

“This is…” You looked at the water, sparkling from sunlight, and the greenery all around it.

“Breathtaking isn’t it?” Coriolanus’ arms found your waist, chin tucking over your shoulder. The breeze fell between the two of you, fresh air, not smoggy or stuffy like the polluted city air of the Capitol.

“It is.” You nodded, hand sliding over his biceps, leaning back into his touch. “How’d you ever find this?”

Coriolanus paused for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the thought of her. He wouldn’t tell you about her, not now, at least, it was your honeymoon. “We used to come out here on our days off.” He said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie, he supposed.

“Stay in that cabin, sometimes, when it would rain.” Coriolanus pointed to the cabin, a little more worn than he remembered, a lot colder looking too.

You turned, smiling at the sight. “That’s… This is very nice.” You grinned, head tilting back to meet his gaze. You looked pretty like this, Coryo decided, under the bright District Twelve summer sun.

“Would you like to go swimming?” Coryo smiled, hand brushing over your hip, squeezing it gently.

“Swimming?” You giggled. “In what, Coryo? I didn’t pack any swimwear.”

“Do you think they have swimwear here?” Coriolanus scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you. “Just go in your undergarments.”

“Coryo.” You blushed, looking around like there might be others to overhear. It was so improper, you were surprised he even suggested it.

“Or just go without anything on.” Coryo rasped, his crotch grinding lightly into the fat of your ass. Your body jolted with electric heat, grabbing at his arms. “No one’s out here, darling. I won’t mind.” His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering at the thought.

Your hands trembled lightly with excitement, pushing down the straps of your dress, gaze on Coriolanus. He grinned proudly as you stripped, your eyes on him so obediently- just as he trained you to be. You were bare, arms covering your most private parts, standing in front of him on the small dock.

Coriolanus followed, slinging off his slacks, his shirt, grinning at you with that familiar, wild look in his eyes. It made your heart flutter, his gaze animalistic, roaming all over your body.

“I’m going to throw you in.” Coriolanus growled playfully, though his eyes were primal.

“Don’t you dare, Coryo.” You pointed at him, walking back on the creaking dock. “Coriolanus Snow, I swear-”

Coryo lunged at you, laughing at how you shrilled, your scream bouncing off the trees, the mockingjays echoing it through the breeze. Your bare feet padding against the wood, ass jiggling with your run, taunting him. You skidded to a stop at the edge, whipping around to look over your shoulder. Coriolanus pacing towards you, arms reaching out for you, eyes narrowed with a primal sense that had you reaching your arms out in instinct.

“Coryo, no!” Your squealing pleas were cut short, his hands on your waist, slinging both your naked bodies into the lake water.

Cool water plunged around you, hands clawing at Coriolanus even under the murky water. You surfaced, a large gasp of a breath, hands hitting the rippling waters with a panicked fury. You could swim, sure, but not very well, especially not when you were thrown in unexpectedly.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Coriolanus hummed, hands pulling you into his wet chest, bobbling with you through the water. You crawled up his back, legs wrapping around his waist, hugging him tightly to you.

He could feel your heart beating on the back of his chest, your pebbled nipples from the cold water pressing to his back, making his cock lurch with lust.

“Don’t you dare let go of me.” You hissed, nails digging into his shoulder. “There’s no telling what’s in this water. I can’t even see the bottom.”

“Oh,” Coryo taunted, chin hooking over his shoulder to grin at you. “Might be a monster, hm? Might come up and bite you.” His fingers pinched the fat of your ass, you squealed in his ear, feet pushing up on his hips, dunking him slightly.

He sputtered, water, feet kicking steadily under the water to keep you both afloat, wiping the droplets out of his eyes. Your pouting face greeted him once his vision cleared, brows creased in a deep furrow. “That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be pouty with me, darling. I was only teasing.” Coriolanus’ hands found your waist, pulling you around his body so you rested on his hips, legs still tight around him in a vice. “You know I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, petal.” He muttered, cupping your jaw gently.

It was a rare pet name, but by far your most beloved, which is why Coriolanus used it so sparingly. Only when he was especially in love, when he wanted you to know.

You ducked into his kiss, your own hands on the back of his head, pulling you closer and closer to him. His lips moving on yours, noses brushing, teeth gnashing in a positively sloppy makeout. It felt exhilarating to be doing this in public, showing such crude affection outdoors, even if no one else was around.

Coriolanus’ hand on your hip, squeezing gently, sliding under the water up your back to cup your breasts under the water. You giggled breathy into his kiss, legs tightening under the water. Coriolanus tipped you into the kiss, dunking you under the water accidentally.

You sputtered, coughed at the water invading your nose, glaring back at him. He grinned cheekily, squeezing the fat of your left ass cheek firmly under the water. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.” He hummed. “Far easier in the bathtub, I’m finding out.”

You blushed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “So what then? On the banks? Like animals?”

Coriolanus’ eyes left your gaze, darkening at what he saw past you. You could see the change in them, that crossed over to something sinister and dark, it made your stomach flip with thrill, anticipation.

“No,” Coryo’s eyes met yours, lips curling in a sinister smile. “I have a better idea.”

“That’s it, that’s perfect, my love.” Coriolanus grunted, head tipping back into the hardwood of the floors.

The floorboards squeaked beneath you, with every rise and fall of your hips. Your hair was still damp, as was his, bodies still soft from the water that hadn’t been wiped away. His hands pawed at your breasts, squeezing them with every roll and rise, riding him in the small cabin.

His mind flooded with memories, memories of before, everytime he looked around. The dark day he didn’t want to remember, a dark time before you. Coriolanus felt guilty, thinking of her while you were on top of him- his wife. So he did what he could to keep his mind from wandering, pawing at your breasts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, but he swore- swore he could hear the mockingjays singing that same song over and over.

“Wait, just a- hold on, darling girl.” Coriolanus grunted, pressing on your hip to stop you.

“What?” You panted, chest rising and falling sharply. “What’s wrong?” You muttered, purely lust drunk, your eyes told him so.

Coryo smiled, cradling your jaw gently, pulling you to him. Your body folded over his, lips on his, kissing him passionately. Coriolanus flipped the two of you, rolling you lightly onto the wooden floor, the floorboards groaning at the shift. His hands cupped under your knees, pressing your thighs forward, letting you hook them over his shoulders while he bottomed out in you, smug at how your eyes rolled back.

“C-Coryo,” You whimpered at the sudden change of pace, his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply, cock spearing that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling back, mouth falling open dumbly.

Coriolanus’ pace didn’t stop, fucking you nearly barbarically, at a punishing pace. You hadn’t expected it, truthfully, he normally saved this type of sex for when you’d been bad, when you needed to get fucked like this. Maybe he needed it. Something about District Twelve had him off, but you didn’t pry.

“Look at me.” Coriolanus growled, hands pushing into your hips, fingertips curling so sharply you knew there would be bruises.

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed with ecstasy from every punctuating jab of his cock into you. “Who do you belong to?”

You were confused, mind dwindling away, thoughts following them. Coriolanus tapped your cheek lightly, hard enough to get your attention, eyes snapping obediently back to him. “Answer me.” Coryo repeated through gritted teeth, his pace not letting up, not once. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-You.” You shuddered, body rolling with another wave of pleasure, thighs trembling around him.

“Say it again.” Coriolanus spat, reaching forwards, hand cupping your cheeks, squeezing them between his fingers so your lips puckered. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Coryo, you. You- oh!- it’s only you. Only you.” You babbled, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes as your orgasm consumed you. He didn’t stop, squeezing tighter around your cheeks.

“You’re all mine. Mine. You belong to me, you got that? Not anyone else.” Coriolanus growled, his thrusts faster now, leaving you no time to recover. You whimpered at the sensation, the sensitivity.

“You’re never leaving me, either. You got that?” Coryo snarled. Your eyes had glazed, looking at the wood ceiling above him, half heartedly pushing at his arm.

Coriolanus’ hand pulled your chin back to him, stilling suddenly, still deep inside of you. “Look at me.” He sneered. Your eyes fluttered to him. “You’re not leaving me, ever.” He held your gaze, his wild eyed one peering back at you.

“Say it.” Coryo demanded. You whimpered, his hips pressing further into you, filling you more- you didn’t even know he still could, you felt so full already. “Say it!’

The sheer possessiveness, his tone, a chilling edge that had you shuddering. “I-I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, voice caught around the lump in your throat. “I’m not going anywhere, Coryo, staying with you.”

“Forever?” Coryo hated how needy he sounded, but he doubted you noticed, not with the way your lip was trembling, eyes glazed.

“Forever.” You repeated, squeezing his wrist lightly. “Forever with you. Only you.”

Coriolanus dropped himself over you, face buried in the crook of his neck to breathe in your sweat soaked scent, rutting into you like a mutt in heat until he was spilling, presseed deep inside of you, milking his load into you.

The walk back to the train was much slower this time. You clung to Coryo, legs wobbly and unsure, his arms wrapped around your back. It was silent, the chirping of the birds, the breeze floating between the leaves, your only sound.

Coryo left you later that night, tucked into the bed, pressing a kiss to your head. You didn’t pry as to where he was going, and he was grateful for that. You didn’t ask why he smelled of smoke when he came back, why he was just as ravenous as before, which he was even more thankful for.

As Coriolanus left you, meeting with the General over the Peacekeepers, leading them back through the thicket, he thought of her. Her smug grin, her in his mother’s shawl, how she’d just left it- left him. He thought he’d never recover after Lucy Gray. Then he met you. How you treasured every gift, only looked at him, craved him the way he did you.

You wore his mother’s ring with pride, and he knew she’d be pleased with you.

Which is why he had to kill all of his past before you.

Kill the woman who wrecked him, the girl who took his heart and shredded it, made it jagged for your hold.

And as the cabin burned, scorched under the starry night sky, Coriolanus was pleased knowing his last memories of the cabin were with you instead of her.

Knowing that part of him was ash like the wooden cabin was now, soot mixed with the soil of District Twelve.

Coriolanus returned back to you, holding you as close as he could in his arms, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. You were his, and he was yours. Now until forever.

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diaryofaprettyprincess · 7 months

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pervy!carmechanic!stepdad!eddie munson x innocent!stepdaughter!reader where her daddy's been coming into her room at night n her rubbing her until she squeals with delight, coming on his fingers, her stuffies, etc.

she feels those familiar butterflies flutter in her tummy when she sits on the lawn chair, watching eddie fix her cherry red car, his tattooed knuckles slowly becoming more dirty with grease as she sucks on her watermelon lollipop, biting her lower lip as she watches her stepdaddy roll out from under the car. she pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses on the top of her head.

eddie looks at her. god, he thinks, she was so beautiful he wanted to cry.

"baby," he watches her eyes light up, "can u grab me the wrench next to u behind the bench?"

she nods, biting her lower lip as she tries to tame those naughty butterflies.

she stands up, walking to the work bench before bending over to display her pink cotton panties, eddie's mouth practically watering as he pushes down on the tent forming quickly in his pants.

"i-i don't see it, daddy.." she bends down further, and eddie watches her swollen folds press against the thin material of her underwear, biting his lower lip.

"jus-just down more, sweet girl--think it might be under the tool box.." his words are airy and soft as she bends over further, and he catches small wet patch spreading on her panties. "good girl."

suddenly, she pops up, "found it, daddy!" she skips over to where eddie is sitting on the garage floor, handing him the wrench.

"t-thank you, baby."

she beams, her cunt aching as she bites her lower lip, suppressing a whimper as she sits back down on the lawn chair, spreading her legs n not thinking much of it as eddie forces himself to get back to work, the bulge in his pants throbbing.

about fifteen minutes later, she decides to go inside as she was getting warm all over--yes, from the heat of summer but also from her body pricking with arousal.

inside, she tries everything to satiate the hunger that burns between her thighs, but nothing seems to work. she spends five minutes rubbing her fat button on her bear stuffie, wetness soaking the fur but alas, no help. she pulls her panties up all of the way until her swollen folds envelope the material, her hips rutting. (eddie did this to her once before as he sucks on her pebbled nipples n she came almost immediately, but it didnt work this time). her lust clouded her mind so incredibly much that she tried rutting her bare cunt against the corner of her bed, but that didnt even work!

she huffed, grabbing her emotional support teddy as she walked back outside to the garage, the butterflies practically fluttering a tornado in her belly.

eddie was busy wiping the grease off of his hands with a ratty washcloth. his messy hair tied back in a loose bun, his facial hair making her heart pound.

"daddy?" her voice came out small n squeaky, and eddie recognized this.

"princess?"

she smiled softly and timidly, twiddling with the fur on her stuffie.

"i got butterflies in my belly,"she pouted softly, tears forming in her doe eyes with frustration as she looked up at her stepfather. "hurts."

eddie's breath hitched in his throat before he cleared it multiple times, running his index finger n thumb over the hairs above his upper lip. "yeah? what kinda butterflies u got,sweet girl?"

she only bit her lower lip nervously. talking about sexual things still made her incredibly shy.

eddie continued , his tone soft and sweet. "the normal ones or the ones where u want daddy to come into ur room in the middle of the night to fix em?"

lets just say her daddy spent three hours fixing her dilemma.

FJSDKFJKFD OKAY THATS ALL I GOT hehe

#eddie munson smut #tw: dark content #eddie munson x reader smut #stepdad x reader #innocent!reader #st season 4 #eddie munson x innocent!reader #stepdad!eddie munson #stepdad!eddie munson x reader #stepdad!eddie munson x innocent!reader #perv!eddie munson #car mechanic!eddie munson #spoiled!reader #smut #tw: stepcest

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dhampling · 2 months

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ivory tower 18+ ASCENDED!ASTARION X AFAB!READER, 4.6K

Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city; but you want this.

woah boy! my first ascended astarion piece, so please be kind! dal is back babey! woooo! thank you to @bhaalism and @lipstickghoulie for dealing with me while writing this i love you both endlessly. wc: 4.6k cw: afab reader, female language used. breeding, mind-control, p in v, ascended astarion, public fingering, private banging, great times all round, as always if there are errors no there aren't, creampies, yippee

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep. Not really.

She sometimes slows just enough to find some purchase amongst the muddle, though - tiptoes lazy through highsun in soft linens, the burgeoning swell of soap suds and sunny rosemary through wide open wooden shutters. Lingering - sweat-soaking worn leathers, the sore of the flex in the arch of your foot splayed over cobble. As if to grasp at the memory, your fingers stretch out from your side and on to the dark oak of the armrest, in a moment of sheer jubilance. Summer. The sun. Wide bright mornings. Hopeful and hot as a bated breath.

The city ambles onward this evening, no different despite the inclement weather and the din of an early darkness. Half-lidded through dark streets as rain smatters the roofs with wet, glistening something dozy under the tall oil street lamps and swirls of ever-present heavy fog. Gurgling whilst each drain fills with water and swallows deep into the sewers.

Scatters the hay, bears the slip; sings a slow drunken stutter of thunder-wind whiling at the windows into the small hours. There’s a comfort to be found in it.

The harbour bell will go on to toll for every sail weary ship coming in from the fog; the crescent caress of the Gate’s waiting arms lit low with oily dots of amber. That even this late into the night the bands of trawlers on the dock work crates and barrels into cargo holds with worn hands and ruddy cheeks. The gulls and their scattering squawks. The flapping of their fat feathered wings up into the clouds.

From where you sit in the Ivory Tower you can hardly see anything at all. Fog obscures the streets to a point, other than the light patches under the oil lanterns out on the ramparts. The window runs dripping wet with condensation. Pools under the pane.

A hideaway of sorts within the manor. Newly reclaimed by Astarion in some deal with the quivering council in order to keep him sweet. Not that he has any armies of undead in his retainer to command as yet, but they don’t need to know that. There’s time. You’re still blessedly mortal and able.

Astarion.

He should be skulking the halls somewhere below with that unnerving silent step he’s taken to using. Your cheeks grow warm, the blanket over your shoulders pulled closer into your chest as you allow your mind to run wild; the scald of bliss to your brain like that of some ironmonger’s poker, split straight to the core.

Your love. Your lover.

Amongst his many newfound desires and passions seemingly includes the impetus to redesign a centuries-old palace from scratch, and while you doubt he has the want nor willpower to take the project anywhere near to completion you’re more than happy to indulge him during this burst of creativity. A designer’s eye. Lavish yet not ostentatious, he tells you. Your own private wing of the palace, and one you’ll share together. He has no need for his own private chambers. You’re the only one he wants to be beside. You understand that at its essence, it isn’t even necessarily a want to design for creativity’s sake, it’s important to you both to have every memory of the residence’s former owner gone. Every threadbare tread of carpet, every scuff on the wall; every painting being demounted by workers downstairs and shipped to the auction house first thing in the morning. You can hear them if you still enough, heart still beating in your chest and the low chunter of layman gossip.

The version of him you knew before his ascension was so very scared. Beautiful, but wavering. You loved him of course; and you always will - it was that version of him, the one lost in the wilderness that you fell for, and gods; you fell hard - frenetic and whiny, fleeting as light snow never to settle on the forest floor. Wild-eyed.

But this Astarion - the real Astarion, as far as he is concerned - has you completely and utterly enraptured each day you wake together, the same as ever, from the second your eyes open. Wrapped in those Daerlunian-import plush linens atop your gargantuan newly-installed four poster bed. Face of marble with those cattish dark lashes and eyes of carnelian crush. Enchants every room he walks into, as he always has.

You don’t know he’s with you until a hand ghosts your shoulder, sinewy; with those deft pale fingers deep encroaching on your collarbone in his grasp.

“I didn’t hear you, lover.”

“But I heard you.’

He circles round the velvet armchair, resplendent in his home finery. Not a crease to be seen. Voice soft, yet laced with a bristling concern.

‘Why do you insist on sitting up here?”

You err for a brief moment.

“I can hear the rain on the roof, here. See some bustle when the fog clears. The city goes on.” You shake your head with a smile as he crouches beside you, nestling his head in the crook of your arm.

“But it’s cold. Dark. Come down - I can light the fire in our sitting room if you like?”

“We have so many centuries yet to see together! What sense is there in not observing the world as it is now? Keeping record of the city as we saved it?”

His head lifts and his eyes meet yours, some churlish quirk of a brow in the low light.

“An archivist, now? Is that to be your profession alongside me? Whilst you raise our young?”

“If I wish it to be, yes.”

He laughs, a gentle low hum.

“Then an archivist you’ll be - the most renowned in all the lands. We’ll make it so.’ He stands once more and takes your hands from your lap, bringing them clasped to his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

‘I’ll begin planning on your archives - I presume you’ll want a library? Or something similar in your wing, maybe even an office. Who knows?”

Astarion looks to the room around you, the shapes covered with old canvas and the rickety floorboards underfoot. Cobwebs in the corner. There’s no grimace nor displeasure. He simply surveys as cool as still water. Objective.

“I’ll have some of the merchants relay their contacts come morning too. If you insist on expanding your territory up here then it must befit you.”

“Befit me?” You grin now. His hold on your hands remains secure.

“If you want me to say it, then I suppose I will. As many times as it takes to get it through that heavy skull of yours.’

His smile reaches his eyes as he circles back behind your chair, fingers splayed over your shoulders once more in a deep round kneading pattern.

‘There’s nothing you won’t have if you want for it. Nothing too good for you to covet, my solace; Saviour to the whole Sword Coast and every plain mite within its bounds.’

There’s a small pause as he bows to kiss the top of your head.

‘And I thank the stars every day that I can provide for you. That you saw the potential in me and lifted me higher, to such profane glory amongst the swill of common man. That my gold, my influence, and terror, and each lift of my blade is at your command and yours alone. That you stayed at my side.”

He doesn’t like to mention the gods, hence the stars. Pointedly brings the grimace back into play, occasionally even furrows with the slightest twinge of anger brewing at his brow. The gods had no role to play in your shared victories. No divine intervention saved him from two hundred years of torment, from certain death after the crash of the nautiloid along that sun-soaked span of rocky beach;-

You did. You with your strange inclination toward the weak man he once was. The shell he lived in like a hermit crab on the shore, nothing more.

On bright days, you thank him for giving you time.

Time to live, time to breathe with full lungs. Time to allow you to burn your eyes in the beating sun with a silver pot of fresh coffee and whatever ridiculous spew the papers hold between the pages today.

You know as you sit in comfortable silence that your time dwindles, and that your turning is inevitable. Your eternal wedded bliss is to be alongside him and will be as vivid in nature as all the colours of the astral plane, if he’s to be believed - and there’s no reason not to see his word as gospel. You can see each moment as crystalline as sea glass on sand. Forever with the man you love more than you’ve ever felt inclined to love anything. The bridal ceremony is but a drop in the vast ocean of your lives together.

He thanks you too. Often alongside you with eyes closed in some dozy recline, forearm hanging lazily whilst he takes the sun on his skin like a blessing. A loose linen shirt akin to the one he wore back at camp at the start of your journey together, strings wide open, a blaze of blinding flesh at the corner of your eye each time he shifts.

The veranda on a clear day. Astarion has assured you he’ll never take this from you. He’ll never take anything that you don’t willingly give him with a clear heart - and why would you give him your ability to bask in the sun, like a street cat in days-warm dust? What purpose does that serve either of you, beyond making you a less useful weapon in his prized arsenal?

At one point, all you wanted was to talk to him - and it rings true even now. The want to be the bearer of all his tales. To learn about him, to be close to him; to hear him tear the world apart with that dulcet snarl, walking alongside each other on the barren dirt trails out in the wilderness. Hop-skipping to keep up with his quiet gait. Giving him back as good as you got. The glimmer of his hair in the sunlight, the way he’d sometimes just stop.

Close his eyes. Feel the heat. The gentle burn of highsun on tender flesh. A soft inhale.

That morning out in the clearing after your first night together. Arms outstretched in a welcome to the light. It had taken a few minutes for it to click as you’d silently watched on, why his sun salutation was so fond. So open.

It’s to be a long engagement with regard to your transformation whilst the manor undergoes renovations. Reason after reason as to why now isn’t the ideal time to commit you to eternity. You know why he wants to keep a hold on your precious mortality for the time being, of course; and that keeps you from the forever embrace of his Dark Kiss. It never changes.

You’ll allow him to sire your children. You want him to. Crave it. Him.

Your very own lineage together, he whispers; frenzied by your ear as his fingers crawl the bare span of your thigh. He can breed you full like fate intended and you’ll have something - besides him - that’ll also last forever. Something of your own surpassing the death of all of your contemporaries. The Vampire Ascendant and The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, flesh-on-flesh, skin smacking skin; his debauched groans and lewd whimpers as he buries himself inside you, your cooing breaths;-

You’ll wed normally too, for the interested eyes of the city. Some dull ceremony with the elites adorning all tables as gilded pieces might some decorative chess board, deceptive vows. Legally it makes things easier should anything befall either of you but the hassle almost makes the whole thing undesirable - gods, especially because he already treats you as some smitten newlywed might. Adores you. Follows you around the manor, stalking; like some wolf cub after its mother. Carries you to bed each evening and ploughs you senseless, until spit gathers in the corners of your wet, wanting mouth and you can’t see straight through grey-blear eyes.

He likes the idea of you taking his name by law. Melds with your own like it were meant to be, from the starter threads of whatever cosmic tapestry pulled you together, the marriage of your first name to his last, interwoven by a scholar’s hand in gold-shining delicate point.

Ancunín. The House of.

Tapestries. Large, spanning the halls. The Sarsantyr's over in Waterdeep - they’ll be able to create what you’re picturing.

A familiar gaze meets yours. It’s then that you realise you aren’t alone in your mind once more

“If you want tapestries, you only have to ask.”

“In fairness - you didn’t give me a chance to.”

He hums, tilting his head a little in the sun’s glare.

“I’ll send for them. The Sarsantyr's, yes? Have them pack up all their little-’

He pulls a face and lifts his hands in some kind of puzzled shake.

‘Sewing bits? Textiles? I’ll send carriages. They can come and stay in the lower rooms. Create the masterpiece you envision.” Astarion sniggers a little at the thought of putting them in the old dormitory while you remain lost in thought.

“Okay. Check them through first though, yes?

The real event - the wedding - will give you total ecstasy beyond your wildest preconception, you know this. Unfettered and euphoric. Books and books on the topic stacked clumsily beside your bed, reds and greens; the turning of a vampire bride in leather bound prose. You know what to expect in florid detail. You know to trust your lover, that the rabid creature you’ll become is only a temporary mental state precursing an eternity alongside him.

And yet, you wonder about the children. They’ll be here by then. However many he decides is enough, naturally; assumedly under the care of some hired help whilst you engage in your thoroughly bastardised pastiche of a wedding ceremony. You laugh now. He’s still in your head, mulling over your thoughts as soon as you can think them.

Will you miss them? Will they be your last thought before you pass away; Astarion unable to complete this ritual alone as he was unable to before? Will your death lead to his, leaving your dhampir offspring to ravage Baldur’s Gate unsupported by the windfall of knowing parents? There’s still no hesitation, though. You will bear his young. You want to. The consequences either way are vast and long-lasting, and you’d rather be at his side than facing his ire-

“Love, what are these thoughts? What on earth is going on in that very pretty head of yours today?” His voice is a low drawl, pitying yet laced with affection. He sits straight in his chair whilst a hand lazily searches for yours atop the sun-warmed table; beyond the scope of the ramparts wall the low meander of city life continues on.

“Mulling things over.”

“You don’t need to do that, pet. Come now.’ He beckons you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your middle, hand searching for the soft pillow of your chest as your ass backs up to his abdomen.

‘You want me to make it better?”

You nod gently, the sun catching your eye in a particularly bright beam and making you squint.

“Please.”

“Poor thing. It’s okay.” As he coos; one hand finds the curve of soft flesh at your chest, holding the weight of your breast firmly as he starts lightly thumbing at the nipple through your nightshirt.

“There, now. Good girl.” Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a deep sigh as he lulls you into a new state of calm astride him. Birds sing overhead whilst you nuzzle his neck.

“I will miss this warm flesh of yours, you know. Terribly so.’ His other hand moves to your nightskirt, gently hitching the material bit-by-bit up your thighs until you sit exposed to the air. Nobody can see you from here - the faceless crowd little but colourful dots below; Astarion giving a small tense laugh as he feels your pulse quicken against him.

He toys with your skirt, edging ever nearer your exposed cunt; and your eyes flutter closed.

‘But the greater purpose… I just can’t let it go. Us. Our lives together. I sincerely doubt you want to wither away to age; to lose your extraordinary beauty-’

A gentle groan as he feels your warmth.

‘Do you, my most precious flower?”

“Of- Of course I don’t. I want to be with you, as we are; forever.”

“Then we’re going to need to make a concerted start on the only thing setting us back, are we not?” His fingers gently tap on the crux of your pubic bone, threateningly close to your clit. You feel the familiar seep of your slit leaking onto the bunched skirt fabric and you think of honey. Some kind of sweet glaze.

“Yes.”

As you sink further into him his fingers move down just a little to meet your clit; and in response to your delighted sighs he very lightly begins to stroke either side of the engorged flesh. There’s no urgency to his movement nor his demeanour; just a treacle-thick teasing grin as he turns his head to kiss your blazing cheek.

“Good.”

There’s something borderline celestial about the gentle way he touches you, coaxing more of your slick from you with every gentle jerk. He deftly motions ‘come hither’ with a soaking middle finger dipping lightly at your hole then brings your arousal up to wetten your clit once more.

“You want this, don’t you?” A finger slips down to your cunt, this time slipping and nestling deep inside as you feel yourself writhe on him. One arm scrambles around the back of his neck to support yourself while he begins to curl at your spongy spot, and the anchor of your arousal shifts free.

“I’ve been rifling through that glorious mind of yours these past few days and I see you now. You want comfort. To comfort. To seek shelter in those warm lights on the horizon, to know you aren’t alone in the late hours.”

You nod furiously, wincing, desperate to feel him deeper. Thicker. You need more, your fox-eyed paramour giving only the barest minimum he can do to watch you squirm.

“You, with my babe in arm;- oh the image alone does things to you, doesn’t it?”

It’s as if he’s creating the visions in your head as he speaks them, bringing them to the forefront of your mind in hushed coos and silent gasps. As if by magic, the only thing on your mind is a primal need for him to fuck you full. Nothing else, no mind for coffee nor completed manor renovations.

You will be round. You will brim with life before he turns you, and you’ll take to his seed the minute he offers it to you. You’ll accommodate him like no other across Toril could hope to. You wonder if he has the power to decide how many, as he adds another finger to your unbridled torment. If he could choose to speed the process up with a celebration of twins, triplets. An heir and two spares. Maybe he’d wait instead until the first was born, just to ensure the viability of his bloodline. A test.

He’s doing this; you become starkly aware as he withdraws his fingers, spiderwebs of glistening drool clinging to your inner thigh as he brings them between his lips and suckles. He’s giving you these ideas of grandeur because he can. Because you are his. Because you wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else, to be tied to any other notion of whatever a fulfilling life is, if it weren’t one shared wholly by him. With him.

“Let me take you inside, sweet one. Let’s take care of you properly, shall we? Curb this fever, hm?”

Please, you think. Please take this burning hole in my womb and make it full with you. Extinguish the flame with your unholy spend and give me children. Give me oud and orchids and a life of warmth, however long we both may live.

“Use your words, my love. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this. Please.”

On the bed you now lie, the room cool and dark; balcony doors open wide with light-billowing curtains. Sweat consumes you as your thoughts run wild, the smell of your arousal, clammy hands and deep breaths in the low light. Astarion approaches like something from a dream, shirtless now; smirk plastered cheek-to-cheek as he leans over your trembling form with confidence - your lust-addled fingers reaching for his steady form like a ship to harbour.

“You want to feel it, little dove? Feel how you set me alight?”

He pries your wrist from him with gentle urgency, taking your hand under his and skating both downwards; down the plane of his tight torso, slowing to a stop just above his pelvis.

“Tell me - do you want to feel it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of your lips, but he doesn’t seem to notice - watching the way your hand twitches under his.

“Hm?”

His groan is guttural. Thick. He doesn’t even try to mask it, eyes wide as his hand shifts yours just a little further down and over the blistering burn of his heavy cock through loose linen trousers. A hazy sigh as he moans a small whimper at your touch.

“Please, Astarion. I beg you.”

It’s like his fingers are enchanted, the way they reduce you to this sodden mess. Unable to think unless guided delicately by his superior whim.

“I need to bury myself inside you fully for this to take. I need your full attention, submission; your devotion to our lives together. Do I make myself clear?”

He’s giving you one final chance to withdraw. Your head clears for one sweet moment and you can do little else but stare at his bulge with heavy lids and your mouth agape.

“Crystal. I ache for you. Please, give this to me.”

You lift to meet him in a soft kiss, jaw slackened and cunt ablaze. Nothing else matters, no complications, nor possibilities of horribly mangled spawn from your womb as a result of your copulation. This scalding stupor that sends you insane won’t go away until he quenches it with his seed.

Your response has satisfied him, if the way he stands sharpish and unties his trouser laces is anything to go by. The glassy head of his cock stands purple at his stomach, leaking wild at the slit and red-hot as your hand reaches blindly for him in your hunger.

He gently taps you away and back down onto the sheets.

“Magic?” You hear yourself mumble, still amazed at how surely swollen he must feel with how sore he looks. Has to be.

“Just me.”

There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he crawls back over you, legs instinctively parting and lifting at the knee to accommodate him. Something that compels him to hold your face in the hand that isn’t supporting his weight and just look at you, fondly; for what feels like an age.

Then he shifts once more to angle himself, decidedly spending no more time on preparation. The heat of his cock against your slit is unlike anything you’ve ever known, dizzying yet pleasurable; hard and yet still yielding, and as he thrusts a shallow dip into your core you swear you see angels overhead. Yes, you’re ready. You’ve never been more ready for anything than you are for the sheer ecstasy you know he’s about to give you, and he’s going to give you it in droves. Seismic tremors as he shifts a little and you adjust to him once again.

He nods. He hears you.

Then, he snaps once more; and he’s lost.

Each glub of his cock meeting your spill as he ruts into you; the way you feel it running downward in long dribbles, with each and every mindless hump of his hips eking more honey from your cunt in spades.

You hear the sounds of your shared carnal pleasure and it makes you clench around him in some kind of self-perpetuating cycle. Groans and whimpers and moans and hisses and the frequent egregious slaps to your thighs whilst he chases his high.

He’s perfect like this. Halo of curls above you, voice silken as he calls you every pet name under the sun, his, always. Your legs ache already from being wound so tightly, interlocked around him, and you think of the prespill inside you already. How each fangy showman’s smile means he’s twitching at your cervix and leaking molten gold inside you with every thrust.

It’s not until he nuzzles down to your neck that you remember to offer it, potentially for the last time on this mortal coil.

“Are you asking?”

“Well, you didn’t offer.”

The immediate pang is one of violent nausea, subsiding quickly into a wooze coating the bottom of your stomach in black tar as he fucks upward. Unease. There’s something in his spit, you assume. Something that makes the gaping wounds a little more bearable, a little less raw as he kitten-licks the flesh between swallows. Ice courses your veins with adrenaline as it always does.

Astarion chokes down his first sip with an eager cough. The burgeoning panic wracking your limbs turns into a numbed haze as your lover feasts, big neat gulps whilst he clutches at your ribcage with fingers splayed deep and cock buried to the hilt, like a man starved. His hair tickles at your jaw, the smell of something herbal. Slightly lemony.

He splutters that he’s close and you feel yourself nearing your peak too.

There’s a profane desecration in what he’s doing, painting your walls in an attempt to get you pregnant. Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city. No villages to raise them, no cards nor flowers from friends or family; but you want this.

You want him to taint you in his particular shade of crimson, visibly; so the realms know who made The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate come to heel. The man who compelled her through sheer love alone and to whom she gave everything. The indomitable force for whom you’ll die, only to resurrect forever as his.

Visions of your turning don’t scare you - all lightning and thunder, the cries of your dhamplings in some nursery down the towering halls of your palatial wing; and yet you’ll be safe in his caress. He wouldn’t let a single thing happen to you. He won’t.

And as he cums; he calls your name.

Some rhythmic prayer over and over again; and with each kick of his cock he loses some of his bedroom charm and hurtles back to earth, humbly enraptured. More candid. His weary muscles tighten as yours threaten your own release around him.

“Cum for me, now. Milk me.” in a heavy whisper whilst he strokes the soft flesh of your cheek; and you do. You cum harder than you can remember ever before. Each wave of sheer pleasure some blackout tidal wave as you writhe, staccato in his arms.

If you die during the ceremony, you’ll die happy. Should the younglings bite their way through your womb, it won’t matter.

You’re loved. He loves you, in soft kisses and gentle arms carried all the way to the waiting washtub. In the way he sponges your aching shoulders and brings a washcloth to your dazed face.

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep, not really.

But tonight it will, in the patient, visceral bliss of calm before a summer storm.

#my writing #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #bg3

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oysters-aint-for-me · 2 years

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ATTENTION i have some EXTREMTLY important news about Fat Bears

🐻🐻🐻🐻

you guys know about fat bear week, right? every year, after the local brown bears have beefed up on salmon over the summer, katmai national park in alaska hosts Fat Bear Week—not the most scientific competition, where viewers just vote on which bear LOOKS fattest (because really, how are they gonna weigh them) but it’s hella fun anyway. the bears have great names. 32 chunk, 747 (aka Bear Force One), Otis, the Grazer Gang (vicious mama Grazer and her two equally vicious cubs), etc.

so by now, the bears have come out of hibernation, and we’re seeing our old faves, grazer and otis and chunk, etc. BUT also the best part of the bears coming back is getting to see the new “coys”—cubs of the year. usually mama bears have one or two cubs at a time. sometimes three.

guys. this year one of the bears has FOUR coys. FOUR. that’s pretty fucking rare and it’s the cutest fucking thing in the world and it’s the only thing keeping me fucking sane right now

LOOK AT THEM

HOLY SHIT????

THIS IS LITERALLY A CARTOON WHAT IS HAPPENING

if you wanna watch the bears live (very amusing highly recommend) then visit explore dot org! they have tons of nature/wildlife cams aside from the fat bears (but the fat bears are the best)

(middle photo was taken by a park ranger—general disclaimer, don’t bother or approach bears if you see any in the wild!)

#bears #brown bears #katmai national park #fat bear week

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fridaybear · 10 months

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Summer. Friday. Weekend. You know the drill. Here's a big ol' friend to see you into the weekend. Be gracious. Be kind. Be rad. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Big Fat Black Bear in Tree" by AER Wilmington DE is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

#bear #friday #friday bear #fridaybear #cute #animals #nature #wildlife #outdoors #wild #blackbear #black #alaska

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mountrainiernps · 2 months

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How do you winter?

You might be thinking, “hey, it’s March and winter is over!”

That’s not quite true in the Cascade Mountains. As you go higher in elevation, it gets colder and more snow has piled up over the winter. At Paradise, we can get snow storms into June.

So while the temperatures are warming up, a little more sunshine, and days a bit longer, winter keeps a tight grip on the subalpine meadows like Paradise and Sunrise. The plants and animals are well adapted to the challenges of these winters.

For animals, there is a choice. Do you travel to warmer climates, stay and snow camp, or snooze through the cold temps? Rufous hummingbirds are our champions or long-distance travel, migrating to the south and even Mexico in search of warm temperatures and food. Pikas are big winners at snow camping. They store food in the homes under the rocks all summer so that they can stay active all winter eating their stores. Last but not least, black bears are great hibernators. While not technically sleep, the bears lower metabolism, heart rate and respiration to make their fat stores last until snow melts and food emerges.

So, how do you winter?

NPS Photo. Rufous hummingbird circa 1975. NPS/I Metzen Photo. Pika perched on rock in talus field near Lake Louise. 2018. NPS/Spillane Photo. Black Bear, which come in several colors, among plants and shrubs. 2016.

#mount rainier national park #mount rainier #wildlife #winter #national parks #snow #paradise

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saltwife · 7 months

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it's that time again!

Today (05/10/23) is Grazer's first matchup in Fat Bear Week 2023! It's time to come out and support the HBIC of the falls, the only sow to crack the top 4 of the bear hierarchy even without cubs, the Queen of Katmai, 128 Grazer!!

This year, Grazer successfully emancipated her 3.5 year old twins, now numbered 428 and 429, who have gone on to become plump bears in their own right! Single once more, she dedicated herself to fishing and fatness. In a lean year, where the salmon run was late and not as abundant as it had been for the past few years, Grazer found-- no, earned success. While many other bears struggled to find fish, this peerless angler went to work to find the precious few productive spots. She was the first bear to catch a fish on cams this year, and she just never stopped. Day and night (more often night, later in the summer) she slammed those salmon, and went from a skinny sow to a behemoth bear. Her neck disappeared. She became a little tiny bear face on a big fat body. I have seen her fall look compared to that of a tardigrade, and honestly? Yes.

Perfection.

And that's not even touching on her other amazing qualities, such as how her fierce reputation as a mother bear not to be trifled with has carried over into her single life! She is able to displace other, much larger bears from her desired spots, often without doing anything other than sowing up. She commands respect.

youtube

But she is also tolerant of other family groups, even allowing one of 910's cubs to 'share' fish with her. And of course, she is a heart stoppingly beautiful bear! Need I even add that she is endorsed by explore.org's own Mike Fitz??

Grazer has deserved the crown the past 3 years. Even while nursing and protecting cubs, she was immense. And in this lean year, her skills have allowed her to flourish into glorious fatness once again. It's time for a new head to wear the crown. It's time to go to fatbearweek.org and vote GRAZER! Voting is open from noon to 9 PM eastern time.

#bears #fat bear week #fat bears #katmai bears #grazer #paid for by the committee to elect Grazer for Fat Bear Champ 2023 #Youtube

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wannabegwenstacy · 9 months

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Eden's Favorite Yunho Tumblr Fics

updated: 08/07/2023

Main A/N: check out the full ateez fic recs masterlist for some of the other members. warning i'm a baby atiny so its not super full yet and i currently have only some members posts created currently. will be updating with more fic recs periodically. :)

⇣Below cut⇣

dance for you (series) by @santheestallion

Genre: yunho x fem reader, dancer!au, rivals to lovers, smut, angst

Word count: 25k + 15k + 22.2k

Warnings: cheating (not yunho), slow burn, curse words, drug (weed) and alcohol usage, thigh riding, explicit sex scenes, hate sex, oral (male and female receiving), semi public sex, name calling, yeah i think that’s about it, brief mention of blood.

Summary: moving to a new city and auditioning for one of the most competitive dance troupes isn't easy, but when you meet the charismatic and talented dancer jeong yunho, your world gets a lot more interesting. (full summary can be found here)

until the moon and stars fall by @cyberpxnk

Pairing: yunho x chubby!reader

Genre: nonidol! au, comfort/hurt, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings/Tags: chubby!reader, no gendered terms for reader, a lil self indulgent, cussing, body/fat shaming, mentions of body image, bullying, minor kissing, maybe a lil cliche but bear w/ me

Summary: your bad day at work takes a turn for the worse but despite it all, jeong yunho never fails to be there for you.

Panini by @smileysuh

Pairing: Mingi & Yunhoe x afab!Reader

Rating: 18+ explicit

AUs/Tags: covid au, best friends to lovers, frat/uni au, etc.

Word count: 11.8k

Warnings: Covid, depressed/anxious Mingi, size kink, choking, sir kink, bdsm protocols, dumbification, sensory deprivation (hand over eyes), oral, dry humping, nipple kink/boob sucking, switch Mingi, hard/semi soft Dom Yunho, Dirty talk, some degradation in a good way, unprotected sex, Yunho has a sir kink, threesome, etc…

Summary: With covid stretching on for what feels like forever, and Mingi’s mood in rapid decline, you move into the two-bedroom apartment with your two best friends, where seemingly constant tinder notifications on everyone’s phones remind you constantly of how horribly single you all are

summer nights by @honeyhotteoks

Pairings: yunho x reader

Genre: college non idol au; suggestive, smut, fluff, comedy

Word count: 8.5K

Note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this fic is just pure self indulgence, but i'm kind of liking the cheeky college au yunho vibes, you can blame the new wonderwall photos

Warnings: best friend!yunho, fem!reader, quarantine and talk of early covid times, sexual frustration, big dick!yunho, oral (m receiving), fingering, semi rough sex, use of toys, light overstimulation, basically reader is pent up and struggling to get off and hot bestie yunho helps out. please let me know if I missed any.

Summary: he's your best friend and roommate, but during the heat of summer and the confinement of quarantine, you just can't seem to help yourselves.

12 - j.yunho + lovemaking/against a wall (18+) by @hongism

Pairing: j.yunho x fem!reader

Rating: 18+ dni if minor

Tags: language, explicit smut, unprotected sex, impregnation kink, soft sex <3, praise, possessive undertones, slight size kink, slight manhandling, teasing, yn calls yunho a bitch but it’s in a cute way <3

Word count: 2.1k

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fic recs #ateez smut #ateez fluff #yunho fic recs #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho smut #yunho

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eddiexmunsonlover · 28 days

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(Eddie Munson x Plus Size!Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1

Next Chapter ->

WC: 2.8k

Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language used. Parental alcohol abuse, toxic family relationships, and bullying mentioned.

Author's Note: This first chapter is on the shorter side as it is mainly set-up, and provides a lot of information on Reader's background and friendships with other main characters.

Sunday, September 15th, 1985

The warm September air engulfs your face, blowing through your hair as the familiar streets of Hawkins pass by. Sitting in the passenger seat, head leaning against the door frame, and Led Zeppelin playing on a cassette tape as your mom drives the route home. Your new, and old home. It still didn’t feel quite real that you were back here, not so soon, and not to stay. Though you weren’t born there, Hawkins has always been the place you think of when you hear ‘home’. It wasn’t just the town or the trailer you’d lived in, but the people here that you held the fondest memories of in your heart and formed the deepest bonds you’ve ever had with anyone.

You were born in Virginia, and lived there until you were 8 years old. Until Dad’s drinking led him to lose yet another job, leaving your mother at a loss for what to do. She was smart and skilled, but didn’t make nearly enough money to support the family at the time. Her sister, Aunt Patty, encouraged your family to move out to where she lived in Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe a big move and change of pace was just what your family needed, she suggested. So, the summer before the start of 4th grade in 1976, your family made the move to the Forest Hills Trailer Park in Hawkins, Indiana. Your uncle helped your dad get a job with him doing construction, while your mother managed to find a decent paying receptionist job.

Your home life wasn’t great. Your parent’s relationship was tumultuous at best, largely due to your father’s drinking problems. You and your mother at times were the best of friends, other times she made you feel like you were never good enough to meet her standards, whether it was with your weight, your grades, or how you dressed. Your school life had never been great either, and that didn’t change in Hawkins. You occasionally dealt with bullies that liked to make fat jokes, but it wasn’t all bad, you also formed some good, solid friendships too.

Meanwhile, the issues at home and with your parents’ marriage only intensified after the move. After 6 years in Hawkins, your mom had finally had enough of your dad’s bullshit, kicking him out and planning to divorce him. A couple days later, he landed in Jail for a DUI, his 3rd one to be specific. A week after that, 3 months into your 10th grade year in late 1982, a UHAUL was packed up with all your belongings, moving your mom and you back to Virginia to stay with family.

While the events of your home and school life were sometimes painful, you were grateful that they led you to seek out music for comfort and coping. Music is the love of your life, and what you always turn to when life and your thoughts feel like it’s just too much to bear. It started with the classics that your family raised you on, from Patsy Cline to Jimi Hendrix to Lynyrd Skynyrd to Johnny Cash. You loved all kinds of music, expanding your taste and catalog to a huge variety throughout the years, even beginning to work odd jobs in your early teens to fund your musical exploration. Music wasn’t just a way for you to escape, but became a way to express yourself as well. You learned how to play guitar and bass, and began songwriting as well as a means of emotional release and self-expression. It was the only thing that kept you sane through your life transitions, especially during the years living in Hawkins when problems at home intensified. Music, and him… Eddie Munson.

*Oh, all of my love, all of my love

Oh, all of my love to you…*

Your chest tightened as your thoughts inevitably went to him, how could they not? You tried your best to steer your mind away from him during the move back to Hawkins, but it was pointless. Eddie had been your best friend all those years you lived here, some of the hardest years of your life. Honestly, he was the best friend you’ve ever had. You liked to think you were the same for him, at least then. Your trailer was right across the street from Eddie’s Uncle Wayne’s trailer, Eddie oftentimes staying with Wayne for weeks or months at a time whenever Al Munson disappeared on a bender, some crime scheme, or his stints in jail. Though, you didn’t end up meeting Eddie until a few months after you moved and started 4th grade at Hawkins Elementary.

A soft smile creeps across your face as you remember 5th grade Eddie, coming to your rescue when you tripped in the hallway at school, other students standing around and laughing at you. Your 9 year old self was mortified, so embarrassed, until Eddie appeared and told them all where they could shove it, effectively clearing the halls of students and helping you up. From then on, anytime he was at Wayne’s you two would hang out; playing make believe in the woods next to the trailer park, Eddie teaching you how to play DnD, sharing books, music, and watching scary movies. You two bonded over your pain caused by your family and Hawkins’ residents who’d branded you as outcasts. You both harbored a lot of pain and anger, sharing a love for metal music as the perfect cathartic release for those emotions. You’d become so close over the years. You often missed him during the times you didn’t get to see him as much, like whenever his Dad returned home and he wasn’t at Wayne’s as much, or when he moved on to middle and high school, being a grade ahead of you. Your friendship remained strong during those times regardless.

But all of that is in the past. He was your best friend… though in your heart he still is, and always will be.

*I get a little bit lonely, just a little, just a little

Just a little bit lonely, just a little bit lonely*

You sigh as the song comes to an end and the sign for Forest Hills Trailer Park came into view. You hold your breath as your mother turns onto your road, Uncle Wayne’s trailer and yours coming into view. You don’t know why you feel anxious, Eddie would have graduated in ‘84, and likely gotten the hell out of Hawkins as soon as he could. Probably out in LA trying to make a name for himself in the music industry. You shook the thoughts from your head, noting the unfamiliar van in Wayne’s driveway as your mother pulled into your own across the street.

She sighs as she puts the car into park next to yours, a black ‘81 Chevy C10 truck that your father so generously gifted you upon hearing of your return to Hawkins. It’s the LEAST he could do. Your mother looked at you with a small smile, “Home sweet home”. You return her smile before both exiting her station wagon and begin unloading the last of your belongings. Your mom and you had already been back in Hawkins for a few days, staying with your Aunt Patty while coming to the trailer everyday to deep clean before moving back in. You could only assume your Dad had hit a rough patch when you heard he was being evicted from the trailer, missing a few rent payments. Around the same time back in Virginia as you were starting your senior year, your mom got laid off from her job. An old coworker from Hawkins then just so happened to tell her about an open position at her new job in Indianapolis, one that paid more than either of your Mom’s old jobs in Hawkins or Virginia. When she heard about your dad, it was decided, circumstances aligning perfectly. Upend your life and move back to Hawkins, again. You can’t say you were really upset about it, Hawkins has been home for you since that fateful day in 4th grade.

Eddie groaned in frustration. Searching his vest pockets, under his blanket, on any flat surface in his room for his goddamn cigarettes, patience quickly wearing thin. He huffed, looking along the floor of his room, around dirty and clean clothes thrown about until he saw the familiar package peeking out from under his bed. “There you areeee” a cheeky smile adorning his face as he grabbed it from the floor, swiftly removing a cigarette and putting it between his lips. He sat down on a chair he had propped next to the open window in his room as he lit the cigarette, taking a puff before looking out his window. Eyes landing on what appeared to be new neighbors moving into the trailer across the street. Your trailer. Wayne had told him about your dad, a small voice of hope in the back of his head wondered if you’d come back. A voice he’d quickly squashed. It’s been nearly 3 years since you’d left, and though he knew better than to think the thoughts of you would ever stop popping into his head, that certainly didn’t stop him from trying to keep them at bay.

Taking another puff from his cigarette, his attention was captured by the girl he saw across the street. Her back to him as she looks into the trunk of the station wagon in the driveway. He unashamedly lets his eyes take her in. Short, thick, curvy. Black shorts, cropped tank top, hair up in a messy bun. She didn’t look like most of the girls in Hawkins or in the magazines… and he liked, no, loved that. He couldn’t help but notice how much her body resembled yours, or atleast how he’d imagined it’d look now after the few years. He watched as she started to squat to lift a tv console out of the trunk. Being the gentleman his Uncle Wayne raised him to be, he was about to sprint over; introduce himself and help her, knowing how damn heavy those fuckers could be. Just as the thought passed his mind, she lifts it almost effortlessly, his eyes practically bulging from his head. He wasn’t expecting that to turn him on so much, but goddamn. He admires the thick arms and legs exerting that strength, unable to not notice the pronounced curve of her ass as she climbed the steps into the trailer.

Before he could pop a semi, a burning sensation on his thigh grabs his attention. The cherry from his cigarette falling into his lap as he drooled over his new neighbor like a virgin.

“Shit, Jesus H. Christ!” he grimaces, stomping out the cherry just as the telephone begins to ring. Groaning, he rose to his feet, nearly tripping over the clothes on his floor as he stomps down the hall.

“Yeah, what?” he answered unceremoniously, greeted by Jeff’s voice reminding Eddie to pick him up on his way to band practice at Gareth’s.

“Yeah yeah, I’m on my way” Eddie hung up the phone, dramatically exhaling as he turned back to his room to grab his sweetheart, and his van keys off the counter before leaving the trailer. He glanced across the street as he descended the porch steps, hoping to catch another glimpse of the new neighbor only to be disappointed as the trailer door was closed, with no one outside.

You sigh, dropping the last box of your belongings on your stripped bed, glancing around at your bare bedroom, deciding on where to start. You rummage through one of your boxes, finding your radio and setting it on your dresser. You press play on the cassette you’d titled Chill Mix #3, smiling as All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix began playing. You decide to start on the biggest feat, unpacking and putting away all your clothes. You let your mind focus on your task and the sound of the music as you move, singing along to each passing song. It was only a matter of time before thoughts and images of him slipped through the barrier, being back in the exact place that held so many memories of him and your friendship. It made your stomach turn and a lump form in your throat. You attempt to cough it away, forcing yourself to think of your other friends here in Hawkins you were excited to see again. The toothy, goofy smile of one of your youngster friends, Dustin Henderson popped into your head, effectively putting a smile on your face.

You’d known Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will for a couple years now. First meeting Will through his mother Joyce, who was good friends with your mom. It’d started sometime when you were in middle school, going over to Joyce’s to hang out with Jonathan and Will while your moms’ went out to shop and vent about their relationship issues. The other boys showing up a handful of those times turned into Dustin’s mom and Lucas’s parents asking you to babysit in the summer months, which often turned into babysitting all the boys at the same time.

The boys and Erica came to view you as an older sister figure, and them, your sometimes annoying but loveable younger siblings. The same quickly became true for the newer member of the party Max, over your visit to Hawkins this summer. Taking a liking to you as the ‘cool’ older girl the boys often spoke of and hung out with. Though you were flattered but dismissive of the ‘cool’ label, you learned quickly that like you, Max didn’t give a damn about societal ideals of ‘cool’ and what or who a young woman should be. They were freshman this year at Hawkins High, one of the few positives you looked forward to starting your senior year here.

As you move on to hanging up your posters and decorations, you think about your other, newer friends, Steve and Robin. To be fair, Robin wasn’t exactly a new friend, you’d met her in school when previously living in Hawkins, but were never more than casual, friendly acquaintances. Steve, on the other hand, you never expected to become friends with before this past summer. You’d visited Hawkins every summer since you’d moved back to Virginia; staying with your Aunt Patty, babysitting, spending time with the kids, your cousins and your Dad.

When you came to visit this summer in May, you’d picked up a job working at Scoops Ahoy with Robin and Steve. Your once casual friendship with Robin blossomed into a close one, both taking pleasure in teasing Steve day after day, watching him fail in his attempts to pick up girls after his break-up with Nancy and declining position in the social hierarchy of Hawkins. You were surprised to witness the change in Steve’s character from the Steve you knew of through middle and early high school, into someone actually likable. When Robin confessed her sexual identity to you two, it marked a milestone in you three’s friendship, along with the events of the mall fire that happened soon after. You three were nearly inseparable for the remainder of the summer after, until August rolled around and it was time for you to go back to Virginia. Robin was the first friend you called when you learned about your return back to Hawkins. Thrilled to go through her Senior year with you, considering Steve graduated this past May.

A few hours after you’d started and the sky now dark outside, you sigh loudly laying back on your bed as you finally finished putting away and organizing all your belongings. Looking around your room, you feel a wave of comfort hit you. Your room has always been your safe space, and it just feels… looks so right here in this room, compared to your room of the past 3 years in Virginia. Even with all the new decorations and posters you’d acquired since you last lived in this room years ago. You feel a sense of hope overtake your thoughts. Maybe this year things will finally work out and go right for you, feel right for you, for the first time in years. You let those thoughts linger as you walk out into the kitchen, deciding to make a sandwich for dinner. Feeling the exhaustion from the last week of moving weigh on your body, you kiss your mother goodnight, and take a relaxing shower before crawling into bed. You let the songs playing on the local ‘soft rock’ radio station lull you as exhaustion overtakes you. As you fall asleep, you cling onto that hopeful, comforting feeling before your first day back at Hawkins High tomorrow.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x female reader #bestfriend!eddie munson

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