#works: babydoll

[boba-beom]

"shit baby, 'm right there with you. that's my girl."

That that's my girl has me in a breakdown... please... you've written baby doll so so well😭 oh how loved I could feel by the way you have written that... I mean this is so good.. I mean the pet names and the praising>>>>

So so good... THIS IS SO awesome. I loved it and you slayed again <3!

noulli tysm that means a lot to me, it really was self-indulging because pet names make me so weak 😭 bonus if it’s like a small inside joke or something that’s yours and the other person’s thing 😔🫶🏼

but thank you for reading!!! ily <3

[royaltea000]

this was actually for @doomspiral ‘s mini ruspru week but I’m. very.. slow… o)-(

[wroteclassicaly]

Bby let's muse over Steve Harringtons ass.

Warnings: Language, smut, anal play, anal fingering, ass eating, anal sex, spanking, submissive Steve, dominant Reader, and NSFW.

~*~

There’s many things that you can say about Steve Harrington. He has great hair, he has a constellation of beauty marks that even dot into his ears, his cock is the unidentified monster of Hawkins, his hands can be used as a human shield, he fights for his friends until the death, he’s loyal, he’s sweet, he’s smart, he’s beautiful, he kisses as if it’s his last day on earth… You can go on, really.

But then… there is also a rather, specific trait about him that’s undeniable. A physical presence that has turned heads of even claimed straight men. It doesn’t matter what he wears, whether it’s swimming trunks, sleep pants, sweats, or those sinful little Levi’s that belong in a museum — it is always on display, front and center. There is no getting past it, zero capabilities to deny it. Steve Harrington has a fat ass.

A perky, shapely, cheekily cut, juicy, bite-able, fuck-able, slap-able — deliciously sinful… ass.

You didn’t start out as his girlfriend, no. Just his best-friend, one that had agreed to benefits, before things became too vulnerable to ignore. And the more open emotions were, the more open things in the bedroom became. Steve was only alright trying new things with you, and the opportunity wasn’t wasted. So you’d showed him with a very targeted rental from the store, assuring that you’d checked in out by yourself under a fake name.

The woman had been taking her scene partner in several stages. First with her hands on his ass, slapping until it reddened, almost resembling a blossoming bruise. Secondly, prepping him with a finger. Thirdly, her face had been buried between his sore cheeks. And the finale, you had to help Steve take off his jeans, pulling his cock out for him as she accustomed to the harness, taking him in wild ways that Steve had taken you.

“Do you like what she’s doing to him?” You spoke into his ear, kissing at that one freckle inside, your fingers wrapping around his cock, thumb stroking off the pre from the head.

“Yeah…” his voice was choked, so low and raspy that it sounded as if his vocal cords had been drenched with molten lava. “What does it feel like?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, hues of blue and orange from the television set reflecting off his blown pupils.

“You want me to do it to you, Steve? Guys have a spot, just like girls do.”

“You mean my prostate, right? I know it’s a place… inside me… there. Is that it?”

You brushed his hair off his already slicked forehead. “That’s right, baby. Right in between your legs, buried deep inside of that tight, unused hole.”

He trembled impossibly, and that is when things got started.

~*~

Steve loves spankings when he’s over work and just needs to unwind. How your hands can make it hard for him to sit, to focus on anything that isn’t you. The way you grab him, pull him apart to observe like he’s on display over your lap.

Steve adores when you just grab him after a shower, through his towel or jeans, giving his ass a little lift or smack. Just staking your claim, feeling him up.

Steve will admit to calling you up several times a day, just so he can ride your fingers in the bathroom or stock room at work, addicted to watching his cock kick and drain all over the floor. He’s already been able to touch himself, but it still isn’t the same as you.

Steve isn’t able to process what happens when you split him open and bury your face in his backside, not permitting him to touch himself (unless you feel giving). You eat him the way that he eats your cunt — animalistic, with one goal. Letting him fuck his opening onto your tongue.

Steve can attest to his eyes crossing several times, upon seeing you in your harness, the shivering trepidation as he props his head on his bicep and strokes himself off at the sight off your dripping pussy as you adjust to the toy. He’ll help you step in on occasion. And the many positions. Depending on what the other needs, you will take him on his side, in front of a mirror so he can see how perfectly beautiful that he is, soft on his back for closeness as you go chest to chest, deeply on his stomach with a taught arch and sweet little pleas from his gifted little mouth, hard from behind, hand on his hair (sometimes in public, even at work. you have become addicted to watching him squirm after, knowing he’s gonna fuck you that much harder for getting him in that state), legs on your shoulders or around your waist, him riding you against the headboard or whatever surface you can find (even in his car), bouncing on top of you and riding you, his hands on your tits for purchase, cock leaking all over your stomach, balls wet with the arousal that has leaked across your thighs — any and everything that you can think of.

It’s safe to say, you’re in love with Steve Harrington’s ass. And will forever worship, remaining eternally faithful to its perfection.

[gloriousmonsters]

speaking of the vees i cannot stop thinking about this shot

both because it's visually delightful, and because there's just something so adorable about Velvette stating 'I'm the backbone of the Vees' and rather than being something more overtly 'badass' her background is a collage of mostly 'check out how cute and cool my boyfriends think I am'

[blizzardfluffykpop]

alright~ a few updates about everything! so this weekend I'll be seeing changkyun in chicago- so I prolly won't be posting until after I'm alive again from that 😂😅 (I am vv excited about it- I just know I'll be vv tired when I return home). Anyways, I have a few fics in the works~ one of them that is a request 🤭 I'm vv excited to work on them! But I think I'm going to change my masterlist a bit when I come back. I'm going to retire a few groups from the main masterlist and I've been debating for the past year about it... But I think I'm going to add a yearly masterlist- So it would go from most recent to the beginning of this year~

I'm also thinking about changing my pfp- I haven't been really into stray kids for uh... years- But I will be sure to make an update about that if I go thru with that too- (It may be ji changmin next 🫣🤭)

Anyways those are my few updates 🥰💖

[milkweedman]

If you dont have a whorl that fits your medieval spindle, turn out some dense bulky weight handspun also suffices. This is spindle 4 of the hand combed southdown babydoll top. Not sure if ill need a 5th ply or not; i guess after i finish this ill just ply a few yards and see how consistent and thick it is.

This particular spindle is pretty much the closest ive done to an accurate medieval spindle, as far as i can tell. It was made not from a branch/stick like i tend to prefer but from a section of a very large evergreen bough i dragged home and split with wooden wedges (as was the preferred way to process wood--just split it with wooden wedges and then use a metal hand tool to refine it further). I kept it without my preferred onion dome tip for the sake of the reproduction, altho it is causing the usual issues for me of the cop sliding up the tip.

Once ive got a few more grams of wool on there i'll take off the dark brown woolen whorl and it'll spin on its own.

Definitely wanna make more of these guys--its just that splitting the wood is pretty tedious when large sections are unusable, because its very unpredictable to split, so i end up with lots of wasted time on scrap. It's an interesting way of spindle making, tho. Afaik this is also how you'd make large batches of arrows; take a log, split it into many small pieces, and refine into arrow shafts from there. When you want to make a couple hundred arrows, its a lot faster to do this than to go find a couple hundred suitable sticks. Im not looking to make that many spindles, but im starting to run out of suitable sticks, so...

[missjanjie]

Season 15 Incorrect Quotes

[deklo]

champagne sleepy nap time….ough

[peter-tschirky]

Ladies Night - Pop Art by Peter Tschirky - Switzerland - 2023

[frogatz]

meee

[boba-beom]

babydoll is so good!! all of the constant petnames had me blushingg

hehe thank you so much, honestly it was just self-indulgent bc i literally MELT at petnames 😭 and ‘babydoll’ is a new obsession of mine 😔🫶🏼 glad to know the petnames has such an effect 🤭 thank you for reading anonie!!!

[wroteclassicaly]

Love me some thotty blurbs. How about...heat?

xoxo @munson-blurbs

Warnings: Language, tension, sweaty Eddie, NSFW, and smut!

A/N: This was more than two paragraphs — oops? 🤭

~*~

Heat.

Many different meanings; textbook, temperature, animalistic, expressions, and scientific. But it’s the one word you’ve highlighted in your mental and verbal vocabularies upon becoming involved with Eddie Munson. The way he speaks with such passion during a campaign, how his mouth caresses the microphone, the depth of his voice echoing through when he’s on stage, chocolate eyes smoldering until they practically melt into engaged, blown pupils, jutted knee propped to help rest his enchanting instrument, his hands wrapped around the stand, fingers tapping to the beat. The heat of his elements.

As for your own? Watching him, working him over like he’s your dinner, your prey. How he bends into the hood of your shitty car in a cutoff top, hair pulled up by your claw clip, sweat soaking the pits and entire back of his shirt, tight ripped jeans shorts and bare feet, chain clinging to the front when he turns around, inked forearm swiping as his slick face. Uncaring, uninhibited. He slides his camels and zippo combo from his back pocket, nosing the cellophane, pinching a filter beneath his teeth, pulling it out, tossing the pack onto a nearby lawn chair he’d been nursing a beer in during breaks in this smolder summer heat, and he cups his precious nicotine, lighting it a blaze.

It’s when he blows it out, that narrowing his between his teeth, a twitch of his jaw, that you’re demanding, increasing your steps down the gravel drive.

“Put it out. Now. I need you.”

He nearly coughs on the smoke, before recovering with a smirk. But he’s catching on, quick. And even through that slight body odor emanating, he’s following your collar twisting lead around the side of his Uncle’s trailer. Because heat is helping Eddie cage you in, one hand above you on the cheap siding of his home, heat is tangling your limbs together in slippery, sliding, slopes, heat is helping him work his shorts, his boxers, your own pants and panties down — and heat is letting him fuck his entire day’s work stress deep into you, all while looking at each other with smirks of delicious bravado.

[rosicheeks]

Ok ok ok ok fiiiiiiiiineeeee

[shadowmoses]

working on a coord for watching The Room (2003) in

[milkweedman]

Genuinely spending 2 hours a day just prepping the fiber, RIP

To be fair at least a third of that time is pushing the executive function button so I can start the next nest. They're unfortunately one of those activities that has enough steps that each one feels like it's own separate thing, so I have to Start Task each damn time. So there's a 5-10 minute cooldown between them.

Got 9 nests, I think (on top), middle is some fleece that's already had a lot of locks picked out so it's kind of jumbled, bottom is combing waste.

[karhunvala]

Personal digital artwork. Poem in the background below.

I drew the babydoll artwork in Illustrator and edited rest of the image in photoshop.

Forgotten babydoll

In a garden of whispers, forgotten and still, Lies an old baby doll, with a story to spill. Once cherished and loved, with a porcelain face, Now abandoned, alone, in this tranquil place.

Time has worn thin the colors that bloomed, The doll's delicate features, once adored and assumed. But the garden embraces this relic of yore, A symbol of memories, forgotten no more.

As the seasons danced by, with their whimsical tune, Nature's touch painted a canvas anew. Where once were the eyes, so vibrant and bright, Now blooms burst forth, a kaleidoscope of light.

Petals unfurl like secrets, whispered through time, Tenderness and decay intertwined in their prime. Crimson roses and daisies, a floral parade.

[ALT: Porcelain babydoll torso with hands in the air on a light green background. The doll is missing it's head, but instead there are serval flowers blooming and leaves growing in it's place. A poem about the forgotten babydoll in the background. Forgotten babydoll text at the bottom]