#wait what the hell do i even tag this with

[atenea585]

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: +18, smut, language, spanking, pussy spanking, dirty talk.

Your hands being restrained by his belt, your fingers holding tightly onto the headboard of the bed as his thrusts caused it to hit the wall again and again. There’s no way the entire building wasn’t listening to both of you, especially you and your screams.

“That’s a good girl.” He said under his breath, leaning over your body to speak in your ear. “You’re so fuckin’ good for me, baby… So hot and soft I feel like I could break you. If I had had you before… Wouldn’t have even let you breathe without having my dick inside your fuckin’ pussy.”

You moaned lowly at his words. You couldn’t think or even focus on one thing, the pleasure clouding your mind, causing you to feel dizzy. Is it possible to get dizzy with lust?

“Are you always such a good freakin’ girl?” He murmured against your ear, giving your hair a tug, which he held in his fist as he continued to thrust into you. “Or is it just with me, dirty girl?”

You felt a tickle in your stomach at the nickname and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Only…only with you.” You whimpered as best you could, more of a babble into the pillow.

“What'd you say?” He gave your hair another tug, this time harder, causing you to let out a deep mewl as he lifted your panting face from the pillow, which was wet from your tears. “Didn’t hear you, doll.”

Okay, you still couldn’t figure out how you had found yourself in this situation, saying yes more with actions than words. Hell, he hadn’t even started the kiss, although you could definitely tell he wanted to end it.

“I-I…” You stammered and tried to take a moment to think about your words, but as mentioned before, you couldn’t think of anything because of his incessant thrusts (in, out, in, out, in, out).

And the sounds that came from the union of both.

Oh, God, the sounds!

When a dog is drinking water… Yes… Exactly.

“C’mon, girl.” He growled, biting your earlobe. “I don’t like waiting.”

“Yes, sir!” You exclaimed and your eyes rolled back as your nails scratched the wood. “J-just for you!”

You heard him laugh, and never had a laugh seemed so lustful compared to that.

“Good answer. You deserve a reward.”

He slapped your buttock before moving that same hand in front of you, moving it up your body and giving your breasts another slap, one each, at least the ones you could count (you couldn’t even concentrate on that). Without stopping his attacks, which took you forward with each blow, he lowered his hand, lightly scratching your skin, until he reached your center, where he roughly rubbed your clitoris.

“Oh- Sh- Soldier Boy!” You screamed, your eyes widening.

Just an hour ago you hated this guy, his way of being was not something that attracted you in any other man (in fact it pushed you away), but Ben had something that made you fall on him as if it were a clumsy accident.

“Cum for me.” He muttered against the side of your neck. “Do it now so I can come down and give it a taste.”

That was more than enough. Your entire body tensed to the point where you firmly believed the belt would tear around your hands. You screamed his name (more like his superhero name, just like he had told you at the beginning) as your eyes rolled back and your mouth fell open.

And his attacks kept coming. Wet and sticky.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s it.” He spanked you again, harder, causing you to moan, before grabbing your ass with both hands. “Knew you would fall to your knees, darlin’.” His thrusts became sloppy, his knees rubbing against the sheets and you nearly falling forward from his desperate grip. ”That’s what you are… You are a slut.” He said through clenched teeth. All you could do was take it, squirming slightly at the sensitivity. “A dirty little girl looking to get fucked hard, isn’t you?” He rested a hand on your head, sinking you back into the pillow. “Take it all!” He gave a deep moan and you felt his cum staining your walls, deep, very deep.

He gasped and let go of you. Your entire body fell on the bed, exhausted, somewhat sore, but in a beautiful way. It’s one of those moments where your body feels hot and sticky and you don’t want to move because you think you might make it worse. That’s how you felt, except the reason for this was not because of the summer weather or because of exercising (well, depending on what type of exercise we are talking about).

“That was good.” He snorted and ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Are you okay, baby?” He asked, but you knew his words probably hid amusement. The bastard was proud of how he had left you.

You sputtered into the pillow and heard him laugh lightly.

You closed your eyes, and just when you thought you would have time to rest and regain your strength, he easily turned you over and you opened your eyes again in surprise. For the first time you saw him after almost an hour having him behind you. He was sweaty and flushed across his chest. His dick wasn’t flaccid or hard, it was halfway, but Ben was surely more than capable of lifting it back up without any problem. It was creamy with your cum and had a white ring at its base.

His breathing had already returned to normal, which you associated with his powers, since you were still having trouble breathing.

“Lemme see.” He spread your legs with a firm hand and slapped your clit with two fingers, causing more of his cum to leak out of you. “I’m not gonna lie, doll, it’s a good fuckin’ view.”

He leaned forward, his hands holding your thighs tightly before giving your center a lick, making you hiss in hypersensitivity. He laughed against your pussy, your insides vibrating, and reached out a hand, undoing his belt and freeing your hands, which you caressed with your thumbs. They were red and you were sure you would get bruises.

“Now…” He buried his face between your legs again, causing you to moan and close your thighs around his head, which he roughly separated. He looked up at you, a smug smile on his face that you wanted to slap away. “Your reward, darlin’.”

@yjessi

[runraerun]

darling, dearest, dead

written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge for November | prompt: guard | wc: 532 | rated: G | cw: major character death (but not really?) | tags: angst with a hopeful ending, Ghost!Steve Harrington, GhostHunter!Eddie Munson

There’s a legend that the first person who gets buried in a cemetery becomes the guardian of all the other souls buried there after. They become a reaper of sorts, ferrying the newly dead from this world to the next—a place they can never go.

This is what happens to Steve Harrington, aged just eighteen when he tragically dies in the Starcourt tragedy in ‘85.

Steve, who dies but doesn’t move on. Doesn’t go peacefully into that good night, or however the hell the saying goes. He can’t.

Steve, who attends his own burial, but despite how loud he screams into the faces of his loved ones, goes entirely unheard.

He eventually gets it, of course. Despite what everyone thinks (thought? Do they still think of him?) Steve isn’t stupid. He catches on quickly when the first few souls come wandering up to him, lost and alone. Steve can see the path they’re supposed to follow, even when they can’t. So, Steve takes the time to explain to them what he knows, tries to comfort them, before guiding them towards the afterlife.

It’s a curse, really. Eternal isolation. Decades pass but Steve remains. The few souls he speaks to are always so eager to leave him. In the end, Steve’s left alone.

And then one day, Eddie Munson comes stomping through his cemetery.

—🛡️—

“What’s with the get up?” A dark haired stranger asks, startling Steve, “there an anime convention going on or something?”

Steve’s eyes trail up and down the newcomer. He wants to make a comment about the strange attire he died in, but upsetting the newly departed usually isn’t a good idea.

“It’s my work uniform. I didn’t have time to change.” Steve explains, a well-rehearsed response. The Scoops uniform that he can never shed was always a point of interest for people. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

This is the first time Steve’s missed a burial. Strange.

The guy snorts, “don’t apologize. I’m the one intruding. You visiting someone? I can wait to do my shit.”

Steve frowns, brows creasing where they come together. “No. I’m just… waiting.” He answers.

“For the ghost?” The stranger asks, his interest clearly piqued.

Steve blinks. “The ghost?”

“Yeah, y’know. The ghost that supposedly haunts this graveyard. Legend has it it’s some guy who died way back in the 80’s—there've been sightings for like, thirty years, but no one’s been able to actually record anything decent. All the pictures are super blurry. But I intend to change that. I’m Eddie, by the way. Ghost hunter and semi-professional psychic.” Eddie grins, giving a strange little bow in his introduction.

Wait…

“1985?” Steve asks.

“Yep,” Eddie pop’s the ‘p’, “The year Starcourt burned down and old Steven Harrington bit the dust. You know the story?”

Steve didn’t need to breathe—not anymore. And yet, he still felt short of breath. Lightheaded.

“It’s just Steve.” He clarifies.

“Yeah?” Eddie snorts, “how would you—”

A light seems to go off in Eddie’s head. He pales, eyes widening.

“You can really see me?” Steve can’t help but laugh, tears stinging his eyes.

“Yeah, I can see you, Steve.” Eddie mumbles, stunned, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

—

tagging: @sleepy-steve because they let me rant about reaper Steve to them<3 check out her reaper!eddie fic: here!💘

[remxedmoon]

*Drops this and runs*

yknow what i am not going to question this

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: dismemberment / ]

I think a lot about how Leo’s rescue could have easily ended in him losing a leg as the portal snaps shut on the Krang still clutching the limb, or, alternatively, only having Leo’s right arm make it out, still held dearly in his brother’s hand as the rest of Leo is left behind. (The latter hits even harder, as it directly parallels his future self in the worst of ways.)

I think a lot about how so many things could have gone wrong during the course of the movie with even a little bit of a change, but it really is harrowing how much of a coin-flip the entirety of the Prison Dimension rescue was.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Why is Erik taking a shower and is fully prepared to fight naked in that panel 😭

my man turning into a baby is a typical tuesday activity but the second he wanna little naked shower fight NOW its suspicious 🤨

[kerizaret]

You fool. You absolute buffoon

You thought I'd fall for the same trick twice. That I wouldn't expect you to threaten my garden with your petty tricks once more and I wouldn't be ready. That I don't have the power of silliness and drawing inaccurate cartoon physics at my disposal. That I don't have the access to 4 clowns ready to do idiotic stuff 24/7

You absolute imbecile. You are not ready for the circus I hail from

Anyway bonus ^^

[the-king-of-lemons]

°

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[ajdrawshq]

i can almost guarantee ive said it before but. he would thrive in a zero escape game

[chibishortdeath]

Great googley moogley it’s all going to shit! Every day becomes exponentially more terrifying!

And all perfectly timed to just right at the start of what’s supposed to be my adult life where I get my shit together and be useful and productive!

[risingsunresistance]

twitter is entering their "rts > likes" phase now that likes are private after they spent years calling us ungrateful for being demotivated by ratios lmao

[general-yasur]

New fragment and new character. The design absolutely slaps

[b4kuch1n]

been scribblin with the dip pens to prepare for inking the next comic (yuuto⏫’s “origin story” kind of basically) and wow turns out I can do anything I want forever

yuuto’s new friends names of amy and linh >:]c

[rosquinn]

patiently waiting for the outis canto (<- i need to see pjmoon trojan war adaptation NOW like please please please PLEASE can we see diomedes achilles and helen please PLEASE I NEED IT pjmoon can we have odypen old women yaoi I'M BEGGING YOU holy shit guys what if they put that scene where diomedes and odysseus go to the trojan camp together at night GUYS DO YOU THINK WE'LL GET ODYDIO YURI DO YOU GUYS SEE WHAT IM COOKING)

[vaggieslefteye]

There are leaks of Season 2 - I will not talk about or engage with any of it on this blog. If you have the hazbin tags blocked, rest assured, I'm not going to be one of those people that posts about it. If/when I talk about season 2, it will ONLY be through what the official sources give out, WHEN they are intended to be announced, and nothing more.

That being said, I'm closing asks/all forms of requests for the time being, just to be on the safe side. I will probably keep posting stuff, but I'm turning off my notifs for this blog in general for a while.

[acourtofquestions]

Hearth to hearth, the Flame of War went.

Over snow-blasted mountains and amongst the trees of tangled forests, hiding from the enemies that prowled the skies. Through long, bitterly cold nights where the wind howled as it tried to wipe out any trace of that flame.

But the wind did not succeed, not against the flame of the queen.

So hearth to hearth, it went.

To remote villages where people screamed and scattered as a young-faced woman descended from the skies on a broom, waving her torch high.

Not to signal them, but the few women who did not run. Who walked toward the flame, the rider, as she called out, "Your queen summons you to war. Will you fly?"

Trunks hidden in attics were thrown open. Folded swaths of red cloth pulled from within. Brooms left in closets, beside doorways, tucked under beds, were brought out, bound in gold or silver or twine. And swords-ancient and beautiful—were drawn from beneath floorboards, or hauled down from haylofts, their metal shining as bright and fresh as the day they had been forged in a city now lying in ruin.

Witches, the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.

Village to village, where hearths that had never once gone fully dark blazed in answer.

Always one rider going out, to find the next hearth, the next bastion of their people.

Witches, here amongst us. Witches, now going to war.

A rising tide of witches, who took to the skies in their red cloaks, swords strapped to their backs, brooms shedding years of dust with each mile northward.

Witches who bade their families farewell, offering no explanation before they kissed their sleeping babes and vanished into the starry night.

Mile after mile, across the darkening world, the call went out, ceaseless and unending as the eternal flame that passed from hearth to hearth.

"Fly, fly, fly!" they shouted. "To the queen! To war!"

Far and wide, through snow and storm and peril, the Crochans flew.