#You're free to leave!! UwU

[zrenxa]

A Thornless Rose

“I saw it growing in our backyard despite never having planted roses before, so I want to give it to you, maybe bring it to school?” asked the father tenderly, “Humor, an old man, would you?” Morro only chuckled upon hearing that. She nodded, accepting her father’s request. “Goodbye, Father.” “Be careful, Morro.” Outside, she inspected the rose more carefully. It has already grown but still hasn’t fully bloomed.

Grown but hardly bloom. Never planted in the first place, but still able to grow healthy. How cute…

On the other day, she will overanalyze the strange flower. On another day, she will look at it intensely and try to figure out how the plant can grow despite never being planted. But today, she holds that rose tightly but carefully. Today, she looks at the thornless rose with warm eyes. Today, she accepted that rose fully.

Well!! Look who's decided to post his artwork for the fanfic he's made! Me, the answer is me xD

This Morro artwork is an old artwork that I made back then as a character study!! I turn Morro into a burnt-out gifted child!! It's fun to do and I probably will do another fanfic in the same universe!!

For those who asked!! It's a high school AU (you can say it's just like the Ninjago movie but with some changes) that I made so I can learn how to write and do character studies and trauma dumping if we being honest again! UwU

Well if you interested, you can read my fanfic here!! UwU

[the-californicationist]

Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

Did you enjoy this tale or maybe some other work by me? Consider buying me a coffee, if you have the means. Kudos, likes, reblogs, and feral comments also work as well ^_^ Thanks!

AO3 Link

[phaticserpent]

concept: aizawa using his scarf for some light bondage hehe. thoughts uwu?

:v I'M HONESTLY FLATTERED THAT YOU THINK I WRITE FOR AIZAWA BUT I DON'T WANT TO DISAPPOINT THE AIZAWA FANS OUT THERE (ME INCLUDED) SO I'LL WRITE ONE <3

Warning: smut, bondage, teasing (you're not a student, do not screw your professors or teachers yall)

"Stop squirming." Aizawa let out a grunt. Unable to stop yourself, you bucked your hips against his, letting out a breathy moan.

"....C-can't, need you." You sighed. Aizawa studied your expression. Needless to say, he was conflicted. How did you end up in this predicament? You couldn't say.

Still, how could he deny you when you just looked at him with those pleading eyes. Aizawa sighed, his hand freeing yours that were promptly pinned above your head. "The things you make me do for you....."

You shot him a cheerful grin. "And you love me."

Aizawa closed his eyes with a small smile. "I don't, actually."

"Pft, you're a terrible liar."

"Tch, shut up."

"Why don't you make me? Hm?"

"Mm," Aizawa tugged at his capture scarf, and you thought he was about to pull it off. One blink and he moved quickly, wrapping you up elegantly and even going so far as to cover your mouth. "You're such a brat."

You struggled and squirmed, trying to say something but all that came out were muffled protests. Aizawa grinned at you with a cocky look in his eyes.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." He chuckled. You met his gaze and glared at him pointedly before turning your head to the side in annoyance. All that was interrupted when he pressed a hand to your cunt and you jolted at the sensation. "Wait.....don't tell me, you're actually turned on by this?"

"Mmmmm," you groaned, throwing your head back when his finger slipped inside. You arched your back when he pushed another digit inside, your legs shaking from the stimulation. Before you could reach your high, Aizawa pulled away, leaving you unsatisfied. You glared at him and squirmed some more, which emitted a light chuckle from him.

"What? Did you want more?" He leaned in, his eyes boring into yours. "You should already know, brats don't get to finish."

[yourdaddyfigure]

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[l0v3tast3]

what do you think about perv!price? any headcannons or ideas you have for him ☄️ i just know he'd always be sparring with you and taking you into his office for a “chat”, or sharing a cigar with him while he encourages you to bounce on his cock !!! 🎀

no pressure to write this, feel free to ignore it it you want to !! <3

ORLA HOW DID U KNOW JUST WHAT TO DO TO MAKE THE WRITER'S BLOCK GO AWAY ??? MWAH UR A GENIUS PERVY PRICE IS JUST SO HNGNH ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ ily thank u for this uwu <<33

mdni! f!reader, cw for smoking as said on the lid

perv!john who likes how you get used to his cigar smoke and loves how you start getting turned on whenever you smell it on him eventually. it's pretty much daily that he calls you to his office. you'll catch up on how your evenings have gone while john lights his cigar and gestures for you to sit on his lap. not long after, his free hand will be guiding your hips up and down on his fat cock, rumbling sweet words when he isn't holding smoke in his lungs. "i know you're tired sweetheart, doin' so well though. you can keep going f'me, can't you?"

perv!john who gets a lot of knocks on his office door and finds it funny how you always jump at the noise. he teases you about it constantly- "what, you don't want them to see how well you're takin' my cock? y'don't want them to know you're mine?" john does. he wants them to walk in even when he barks at them to come back later. he wants them to see how your cute little cunt takes his whole dick and how pretty it looks with his cum leaking out of it.

perv!john who wants everyone to know you're his but still finds it funny when others try to hit on you. he'll watch from a distance and smile when you turn them away. when he sees you in his office later that day, though, he'll spank your ass raw and leave indents of his teeth all over your body. "should show 'em all already," he'll growl in your ear. your chest and face will be trapped between john's desk and the weight of his body pinning yours, the head of his cock grinding against your cervix until the only coherent word you can form is his name. "should fuck y'right in front of 'em- then they'll know they can't fuck y'as good as i can." whining and begging is pointless when he gets like this. john is a calm man, always keeping his cool, but his temper flares when his protectiveness (possessiveness) over you comes into play, and your pussy is the perfect way to help calm him down <3

[lacedinweb22]

Vampire Next Door ⋆⟡⋆ Miguel O'Hara x reader Chapter 1: New Girl *✩

Your neighbor is strange, to say the least. Miguel O’Hara: Alchemax’s newest scientist, genius, most sought-after bachelor … and according to your wildest suspicions … a vampire?

☆‧͙⁺˚*･

One ... more ... box.

You carry the fifty pound box up the stairs, panting and motivating yourself under your breath. New apartment building, new area, unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar ... smells, but fresh start. You needed this. After your nightmare roommate from last school year, you need peace, quiet, solitude. Your sanity depends on it. Your own little world, free from shitty people, broken promises, betrayal, all of the hell that was last year.

One more set of stairs to go.

You hear footsteps from the stairwell below you, coming closer. You're sweaty, in sweatpants, and not at all ready to make a lasting first impression on your new neighbors. But they're getting closer.

"New girl,"

You turn around, to look up at the tall, handsome– Miguel O'Hara?

But you pretend you didn't know of his existence until now.

"That's me, and you are?" you breathe out.

"Miguel," he says, analyzing you and your box.

In a way, you're grateful you're meeting him now since being out of breath, a flushed face and sweaty shirt can all be attributed to this workout rather than how he makes you feel.

"Please, let me," he offers, holding his muscular arms out. You stop on one step, and turn to look at him, he's one step below you, but still much taller, looking down at you.

He's muscular, and so are you (you’re ¼ his build), but you're also exhausted, so you allow it.

"Thanks," you mutter, offering a weak smile, fixing your hair after he so effortlessly lifted the box out of your arms.

You observe him. He looks different than he did two years back at Nueva York University: bigger, more muscular, more sure of himself, and more threatening? He was intimidating before, intimidating as in hot genius geneticist, but now he's intimidating hot shot Miguel O'Hara.

"You live on the fifth floor?" he asks, stopping at the landing.

"Yeah, and I'm guessing you do too?"

"Yeah, I do. What number are you?"

"501," you nod, smiling. You follow him down the hall.

He walks in front of you, nodding.

"I'm 502," he says, turning back to look at you, reading your face, before stopping in front of your place.

He smiles, his eyes on yours. You melt the way you did back then. Yep, he's still got it. You notice his eyes are different, the same beautiful brown, but with a new maroon tint to them. Almost inhuman. But the way he smiles, that's familiar. You get butterflies in your stomach, and feel everything all over again.

You knew him before Alchemax. You knew him when he was a less famous, all the same genius amongst NYU intellectuals. You remember admiring him from a distance. You sat outside of the library with Ash, and snuck glances at him over her shoulder, watching as he walked to class. You loved the way his dark brown wavy hair cascaded onto his face, the way he poked his glasses up, the way he rushed to class all while holding his school books, his motorcycle helmet, and pulling his lab coat over his compression shirt.

The autumn leaves fell gracefully all around him, like a scene straight out of a movie. He was picturesque, a piece of art, your hallway crush, unaware of your existence

and now right in front of you

... and he's your neighbor.

Ch. 2 here 😼

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[niuniente]

Wow, so many saying in the last kudos-comment-bookmarks post that they comment only if the fic was SUPER GOOD. 72,2%(!!!) said they NEVER comment! (wtf???????)

So you want to give support only for insanely good writers? No support, in a form of comments, for beginners and not so good writers? And 72,2% of the fics deserve no comment because what? You didn't feel like commenting?

You think beginners keep writing if they don't get any "I liked this! Keep going!" support? Yelling into the wind and hoping someone hears and replies?

That's a hobby, you know. Not a profession. You expect a professional level stuff from a hobbyist, writing on their free time a fic they want to share with you, because they loved the idea, the same characters, the same ship or/and the same fandom as you do?

I'm speechless.

I'm going to go Abe Simpson here and say that when I was young, the courtesy was to comment on every chapter on each fic you read. That was the norm. The bare minimum expected from readers was to leave at least one comment at the end of the fic.

THINK HOW MUCH MORE PEOPLE WOULD WRITE, DRAW AND CREATE IF THIS LEVEL OF COMMENTING AND INTERACTING AS A PERSON, NOT A FACELESS KUDOS, WAS STILL A NORM!

I don't really like the shift in the fandom where nothing is expected from those who enjoy the stuff others make, except consume them silently.

It is not that much to be asked nor that difficult to be polite, kind, and type; "I read this. Thank you for writing!"

No, I won't listen to "UWU you're forcing us to comment! I don't like it!" Learn some fandom manners and be kind to others. Have empathy to those who create to understand that things won't magically appear on their own to AO3 or anywhere else. Someone has made them. It's not too much asked and no level of anxiety can't be THAT BAD that you can't type - even anonymously - just "TY" if you can't muster up anything else. Or leave a little heart. Or thumbs up emoji.

Acknowledge the hard work of those who offer you free stuff of your favorite fandom. That's your basic courtesy as a member of your fandom and I promise, it makes the other person happy - and more inspired to create more free stuff.

[moodymisty]

Could you please write something with Sevatar? That man needs to get slapped around uwu

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Wearing a shirt that says 'Number 1 Jago Sevatarion whore' on it: Yeah I'm normal.

Summary: Jago Sevatarion really likes one of the Salamander's humans.

Relationships: Jago "Sevatar" Sevatarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Vague references to NSFW, The consent is dubious so tw dubcon, Violence, Stalking, Predator/Prey kinda dynamics, General 40kness, Stockholm syndrome?, Kinda Yandere maybe?, If you don't know what you're getting into reading this then I dunno what to fucking tell you like it's a Night Lord I can only woobify him so much

Word Count: 1140

It has been tense as of late, to say the least. As much as that word fails to illustrate in context, it's the only one you can think of to use.

To have Night Lords present has been nothing but a battle to keep tensions low enough in order to keep things productive, and to avoid fights between the Astartes from breaking out at seemingly every opportunity. These fights can be between the apposing legions, or even just between the Eighth themselves.

It doesn't help that the Night Lords are often times seen baiting them- taunting barking goading a Salamander to throw the first punch. They seem to crave it, most of them.

Every baseline human aboard has done everything within their power to avoid crossing paths with Astartes in deep blue armor, adorned with smatterings of blood red. Particularly when not in sight of a Salamander. There has been more than a few times where a serf or other baseline human has managed to scurry into sanctuary within a Salamander's line of sight, and in the distance a Night Lord prowls; Discontent with his prey, or toy perhaps, finding safety in the light. They will soon after find something else to occupy their time, leaving the human no longer needing to look over their shoulder. But only for the moment.

You don't have that option. Because not only have you already gotten caught, the one that caught you is smart.

He knows where you would try to hide, every single little rat hole you could try and squeeze yourself in, and he knows that even if you did flee to one of your massive protectors, he would put up a far stronger fight than any of the other Night Lords. His persistence alone sets him apart. Why did he pick you? Out of so many, why you?

It's like being hunted. But not the chase; The conclusion, when the predator decides to bat around it's prey like a toy as it squeals, begging for a mercy it won't receive.

If you screamed, would someone come? Would they be able to free you from him, or would he simply kill them and have you all alone again?

But why won't the scream leave your throat? It's like he's choking you with just his presence.

You can hear ceramite plates grind against each other as he shifts in his armor, the hissing of it's mechanics left hand pinning your right arm against the wall. It hurts bad, it'll surely be bruised and aching, radiating pain as a remnant and reminder that this isn't some sort of horrid nightmare.

He finally caught you. After so long of managing to evade the massive Astartes, him stalking the shadows outside of your safety and watching you with those void black eyes like you have something he wants, he finally sank his claws in you. He'd been toying with you for what felt like weeks, swimming around you and trying to reach out and grab only for you to pull away, and he'd laugh. Call you little. Say your name that he'd stolen after overhearing it in a way that had you swallowing a knot deep in your throat. You could only avoid it so long- for every step you took away, took he took two closer.

Many of the Astartes are currently having their five hours of designated rest- there is no one to save you in this particular hall save for the rare guard.

His other hand grips your jaw, making sure your face can't turn away from him. Your free hand paws at his wrist, and each time your fingers slip off the armor despite trying to latch onto the seams you can see the amusement cast on his face.

Is it because he likes the way your hand is too small to grip, unable to fight against someone so much larger, unfathomably stronger, or because you're squirming like sweet prey under his pitch black gaze?

You just wish he'd get on with it. To stop toying with you, making your heart pound against your ribcage. To make your skin so hot that it travels up your neck as if moving to choke you. Fear swallows you in a way that makes you freeze- even if he hadn't been holding you, you doubt you could call on your legs to run and not fall right over to your knees.

He's never gotten this close before.

His lips brush against yours like the touch of a ghost, his breath boiling hot on your skin. You can just feel the rough skin of the scar that rips across the right side of his mouth, warping the skin. It's one of many that decorate what little skin of his is visible. When he shifts, you can hear his helm hit his thigh plate from where it's attached to his belt.

"Well?"

He's so close you can barely see his eyes, and you don't want to. When ever he looks at you if feels like he's piercing you to the wall. His dark eyes and slicked black hair contrast with the paleness of his complexion, as he watches your every move.

"I can smell that fear on you."

His words lay over you like a hot, rough blanket.

"But don't think I'm stupid enough to not smell something else."

He's not gentle- neither with his words or the way his hands grip your arms pressing against the wall. Is this a part of the Madness of the Eighth that seems to hang over their legion? To just want and to take? You know that the Astartes always can with their raw power, but you're so used to the Salamanders and their stoic kindness.

It's your obvious, first thought to try and free yourself, or call for the help of someone not asleep. Though a second thought crosses moments later.

You know you shouldn't do it; He's going to eat you up and spit you out once he's done.

But you're an idiot. One with no options and that finds themselves almost drawn into the black hole that is him.

"W-What is your name?"

He's never said it, and you've never dared ask it to anyone. You feared that once you did, that you'd put yourself deeper into his grip like stepping into a bog- fighting but only sinking farther.

He laughs. Deep, and its gravel hits you in the gut.

"I am Jago Sevatarion."

His exhale smooths over your skin like hot steam; Rough lips once again scraping over yours in an almost kiss. His voice is heavy on your chest, he's not even yelling and it's loud, deep and makes the back of your neck tense. The cold metal of his power armor presses against the skin of your jaw.

"You can call me Sevatar."

[scholar-of-yemdresh]

Hot take but the aggressive hardline separation of asexual and aromantic is actually EXTREMELY harmful to a lot of ace/aro people.

Angry rant under the cut

It's one to thing to go: "okay yes sometimes they go together but it's important to remember that for some people they can be different things and you can be one and not the other"

And go: "These are TOTALLY DIFFERENT 100 always separate there is no intersection EVER and if you DARE to be both then you have to piecemeal your identity to not uwu invalidate others(we do not care that we are invalidating you though lol) Don't you DARE ever experience them together you are CONFLATING"

It's like yall just want asexual to = alloromantic only and aromantic to = allosexual only.

You don't give a shit about aroaces, aces who aren't alloromantic but don't ID as aromantic or aros who aren't allosexual but don't ID as asexual.

The aspec community despises us. We get talked down to demanded to split our identities apart for your comfort. We can't exist in certain spaces because our presence there is a personal affront to allo-aspecs. Shout out to the alloaros that bitch about those disgusting aroaces just clogging up the aromantic tag ☺. Shout out to the alloaces who can still love and aren't totally heartless monsters 🥺.

Don't talk about ace shit in the aro tags, Don't talk about aro shit in the ace tags...what's that you're both? And can't neatly separate them and it brings you comfort to be able to discuss your whole orientation? SHUT THE FVCK UP YOU CONFLATING IGNORANT SHIT HEAD.

If you want to be in the aromantic community you have to leave your ace-ness at the door same for asexual community and disregarding your aromantism.

A personal example was an Aspec discord server I was in that had two media recs channels one for sex repulsed people and the other for romance repulsed. Now the issue came is that they didn't acknowledge someone could be both i.e both sex & romance repulsed/just looking for media that had neither sexual nor romantic content, what this lead too is that the romance free media channel was filled with graphic hookup erotica or sexually explicit songs and the sex free channel was just fade to black romance books 🙃...wonderful.

Or when polls/forms will ask you to pick your orientation but only things listed are het,gay,bi/pan yes even the ones made by aspecs, and what they actually mean is use the one that correlates to your romantic/sexual attraction...so fvck aroaces and non sam aces & aros?

And don't get me started on how you treat non sam aces & aros. You at least tolerate the self IDing aroaces, because they have the "curtesy" of separating themselves from the real proper aces & aros.(let's not question how many aroaces would prefer to just ID as just asexual or just aromantic but are forced into aroace identity because that would be "conflating" and they don't want to deal with the harassment).

"UwU don't say asexual when you actually mean aromantic" Some bitches don't use to SAM fvck off with allo-splaining my own sexuality to me.

It would be so much easier and save a lot of pain if yall just went : "asexual for some means no sexual attraction and it says nothing of your romantic attraction AND some people use it to mean no attraction generally". And "aromantic for some means no romantic attraction and it says nothing of your sexual attraction AND some people use it to mean no attraction generally" and "for some they are separated but others not so much as there isn't always a strict separation. Just be chill about it don't accuse people of being ignorant or conflating they know their identities better than you". But no ya chose violent aphobia instead.

But ultimately nobody cares because this shit is only harming the undesirable aces/aros the ones who are harmful stereotypes the ones that make you "look bad".

I know deep in my heart there are a lot of alloaces & alloaros that who would be happy if aroaces & non sam aces/aros didn't exist, there I said it. How can I not come to that conclusion when at every turn they shit on us. They talk about how the worst thing in the world is to be mistaken for one of us. That our representation is actively harmful.

A last parting spicy take it's either "asexulity and aromantism are full identities on their own and aren't modifiers" OR "actually neither asexual nor aromantic can stand on their own they need to be paired with another orientation and they actually are just modifiers" you can't have it both ways. 🤭

[strwberri-milk]

ok, so I've thinking of something, but I am not creative enough, and I'm not gatekeeping my genius idea.

would you take advantage of my idea? 😽 please 🙏

so, jealous kaeya x puppy fem reader + "what? cat caught your tongue?", "brats don't get to cum", "beg for it, let me know you deserve it", "you're mine and I'm yours, got it?"

like, reader has been teasing him all day and BOOM

btw, I love your writing, keep it going

this is kinda similar to my other set of hcs of kaeya coming back after a hard day and fucking the shit out of his puppygirl lover uwu so feel free to look for that under the kaeya smut tag/kaeya x reader (im still scared to put links in my posts)

You were being a brat, and brats deserve to get punished. Kaeya knows for sure that you know what you're doing with the way you look up at him after doing something "bad" or the impish grin you give him after pushing his buttons.

Due to how busy he was right now, Kaeya wasn't able to properly tell you off the way he wanted to. Instead, he's forced to just sit back and bear it, eye watching you closely as you flit about and continue to tease him. Not only that, but he had to watch you flaunt yourself for everybody else at the headquarters could see. He was proud of the way they looked back at him with envy, but he also wanted to keep you all to himself, something becoming increasingly more difficult as you continued to talk to whoever pulled your attention.

His eye trails the lines of your body, knowing you chose what you were wearing today to purposefully fluster him. Instead of him getting worked up in the softer way you might have been planning to. You were just thinking of making him give you a bit more affection, shower you in soft kisses and just be very sweet. Since he wasn't, you decided to up the ante by coming down to headquarters to get him to give you more attention again, even if i meant tricking some of the other knights into giving you the attention that Kaeya wasn't able to yet.

That very innocent desire was unable to be fulfilled thanks to Kaeya perverting it. He couldn't get over the swell of your lips, the thought of holding your hips in his hands, the need to pull your body under his. Everything you did was pushing him further and further off the edge.

You had just finished spending the last hour sitting in his lap, cuddling into his neck as your tail languidly made its home on his waist. He liked the gentle pressure of it pressing against his stomach, but the heat of your core was beginning to make his head spin. There was no way for you to get your punishment right now, but he was concocting several plans to get back at you. You give him a kiss goodbye, ignoring the evil glint in his expression as you leave his office.

Your hands are buried in the sheets, Kaeya's fingers holding them tightly as his hips piston into you over and over again. He's done more than enough to melt your brain, currently sucking more dark marks into your neck and collar. Thankfully for you, his pace slowed to a grind, letting your walls clench over him as you give him your pathetic little whines.

"What? Cat got your tongue? You're so quiet now," he muses against your neck, reveling in the soft moan you give him when he shifts a bit.

"Come on, where'd all that spunk go, huh? Where was that energy when you had every knight drooling over how good you looked today?" he taunts a little further, laughing just a little evilly when your grip tightens on him in response.

You were dripping all over his thighs, unable to cum thanks to his incredibly inconsistent and patient self. He could feel your thighs spasming a little around his hips, knees trying to lock together to force him into fucking you to completion but failing miserably.

"You want to cum, don't you?" Your ears perk up at the thought, whimpering softly as your tail smacks the bed lightly.

"I told you you can't cum unless you begged me, and you haven't done enough of that yet," he says mildly condescendingly, sitting back up to admire your ruined body underneath him.

"Please," you say meekly, the light jangling of the collar Kaeya made you wear louder than your voice.

"I can't hear you," he sings slightly, bringing a hand down so he can use the pad of his thumb to rub at your clit.

The reaction is immediate. You let out a pathetic sounding yip, whimpering and melting into the sheets as his dick starts to bring you back up to the high you were almost able to achieve earlier. Your back arches high, practically shoving your tits in his face as he starts to fuck you earnestly again.

"You're fucking mine, you got it?" he growls, leaning over your body as you pant.

"You're mine, and only mine. I'm the only one who gets to hear these noises, the only one who gets to fuck you like this. Nobody else is allowed to touch you, you hear me?"

You nod quickly, using your newly freed hand to scratch angry lines down his back.

"Yours, I'm - mn - yours!" you cry out, trying to implore him to let you cum.

"Please let me cum! I want to cum on your cock so bad, please, please, Kaeya I'm yours, and you're mine! You're the only one who can make me feel this good, please just let me cum!"

Your begging finally does it for him and Kaeya quickly pulls out to flip you on all fours. Your body aches to be fucked like this, sharply yelping when he slides back into you by way of pulling your hips over his cock via your tail. The tight grip he has on both your hips and tail makes you scream, squirting all over the bed from the constant edging he had just subjected you to.

Kaeya can feel your juices soaking him even further, creamy hole dripping down his shaft to line his balls. All of it makes his eyes role into the back of his head as he finally cums deep inside of you. However, he refuses to stop there, continuing to fuck you over and over and over again until your body refuses to forget the shape of his cock.

[thisismisogynoir]

My post about hating the Barbie movie and how it actually spat in the face of feminism and all that the franchise stands for is done and dusted, I'm afraid, but that being said there are still some points I left out of it that I would like to address, and I will do so here:

The movie portraying women as hopeless endless victims who have no hopes of succeeding or getting what they want out of life is bad enough, but there's a brief blink-and-you'll-miss it scene where Barbie is taking Gloria and Sasha back to Barbieland, and as they're on the spaceship, she says to them that women control everything and have all social and political power, which is fine...but THEN she goes "basically everything men do in your world, women do in ours" and that...that line just makes me so appalled and angry I could SPIT. Like you're really spelling out that you think women in the real world have no power or control in any aspect of society? I understand that it's supposed to be "commentary"(it's not good commentary tho) and that the real world IS a patriarchy, but we HAVE women in power in our world too! We HAVE female Supreme Court Justices! We HAVE women in high office! We HAVE female mayors and CEOs! We HAVE women in positions of power and leadership, period! And yet Barbie creates this illusion that women in our world such as Sasha and Gloria would have NO knowledge of or point of reference for women in power who do any important shit at all; it's completely fucking absurd. But then again, this movie was written and directed by a white feminist. A white feminist, who, like all white feminists, has a complete miserable victimhood/defeatist complex. So of course she projects it onto her female characters(even female characters of color, who are ofc SUPPOSED to be more sad and let-down than SHE is!), like the sad, pathetic fuck she is. And y'all wonder why I hate persecution flips so much. We need to shove that bullshit trope six feet under. If you want to tell a story about the patriarchy, then FUCK, WRITE ABOUT THE ACTUAL GODDAMN PATRIARCHY!!! Don't just do this nonsense "uwu what if men were the oppressed ones and women were the privileged--" no. Stop. Cut it the fuck out. This is getting ridiculous.

This part is probably incidental but fuck that, I'm still gonna knock it. Sasha and Gloria never actually get to experience the matriarchal utopia, and I just find that so depressing. Despite the bleak and frankly miserable lives that they lead, they never get to experience the escapist freedom of living in a society in which they are in charge, where womanhood isn't looked down upon and is in fact honored, where they have power and aren't in danger of being stalked, followed, or killed by men just for walking down the street. They leave their patriarchal world, hoping to see a world that is better, and instead enter a world that is just as bad and equally as patriarchal as the one they tried to escape from. It's truly depressing, especially for Gloria who specifically wanted to get away from her anxieties with real life and just have fun with her daughter for a bit. Instead she has to be confronted with ANOTHER patriarchy, watch the childhood doll she loved and played with have a panic attack and give up on life just like she did, and then give her infamous, cliche, and paint by numbers "being a woman is suffering" corny as hell speech. Before reinventing the matriarchy and getting her power back only by leaning in to patriarchal stereotypes about women's bodies and sexualities. And then leaving back for her regular patriarchy world without getting to experience any of it. It's almost like the movie was literally saying that women will never be able to free themselves from patriarchy and that a better world than this one does not exist. Patriarchy is insurmountable and all-prevailing, says this movie. It's truly tragic.

And honestly, with regards to that shitty ass clusterfuck of a speech, isn't it like, so totes ironic, that part of Gloria's speech is her complaining that women have to apologize for men's bad behavior...only for the "happy" ending of the movie to involve BARBIE HAVING TO APOLOGIZE FOR KEN'S BAD BEHAVIOR?!?!!??!?! Like no one fact-checked that shit and went "wait, something ain't right"? Are you fucking kidding me?!?!?!?!?! I hate that scene with every fiber of my being and realizing this makes me hate it even more now. Just, ugh.

Tldr: Fuck this movie, but then again, I've said that shit like...several times before. lol.

[eggslamwich]

CHARACTER OPINION THING THAT IS LATE DO MORGOTT

Morgott my beloved you're how I got my start 🙏

🍂 favorite thing about them

I have a soft spot for antagonists who are royalty/powerful but also huge fucking losers. I think Morgott is one of the most fleshed out characters in Elden Ring, I love that despite being tragic he's also an awful person who continues to perpetuate the system that opresses him and others like him. There's so much to unpack about Morgott in the character analysis department.

And tail. Tail is nice.

🍂 least favorite thing about them

The fight in Leyndell with him, I don't like how he won't stop fucking moving good lord.

🍂 favorite line

"PUT THESE FOOLISH AMBITIONS TO REST!"

🍂 brOTP

Morgott and Oleg. I didn't even know they had lore together until I saw some fanart and read some fanfiction, Hell yeah let Morgott have a friend.

🍂 OTP

Morgott and Hilde :}

🍂 nOTP

Morgott and Mohg :{

🍂 random headcanon

His skin is very tough and thick, akin to tree bark.

He likes tea, particularly herbal teas.

In his free time he enjoys reading poetry and picking leaves out of his tail.

🍂 unpopular opinion

I like Margit's ost more than Morgott's.

Also he would not have been a good Elden Lord. He was closest thing we had to an Elden Lord in the story and the lands between still sucked ass.

🍂 song i associate with them

🍂 favorite picture of them

I have it on my desk uwu

[zerobaseonefics]

BLOOMING DAY

blooming day . . . day three

note . . . I FR STRUGGLED TO POST THIS IDK WHY TUMBLR DIDN'T LET ME???? RACIST BEHAVIOR IF YOU ASK ME . anyways 🥰 i've decided i'll try to post at least every friday. hope it's fine by y'all and you will enjoy this new chapter 🫶🏼 ngl the story starts kinda slow but things will get interesting soon 🫡

taglist open <3 (if you want me to add you, send an ask so i can make sure i saw it!!) . . . @cherriegyu @kpoprhia @vhshyk @hikyeom @mins-fins @juyomiao @dwcljh @invuwrld @beomibeom @sulkygyu @lycheae @huipinkhair @luvseok1e @haesunflower @big-uwu-stan @harus-simp @zhounauts @jiaant11 @articxari @jebiwon @mashihope @taerrrrrae @ilovechanhee @ahnneyong @seok02 @honghongbri @justemalove @mposkyje @zhanghaoed

previous day | masterlist | next day

. . . ᥫ᭡ . . .

you really wondered why hanbin followed you on twitter after this. wasn't it clear you rejected him?

"i'm telling you, he likes being humiliated. the fact he deadass bought that bouquet was showing it", yujin said as she took a bite of her lunch.

"a normal person wouldn't try to talk to you again after you rejected them! what is wrong with him?", you said, agreeing with yujin.

"yeah, i really wonder why he would do that..." mashiro added.

in fact, mashiro was lying, she didn't have any questions about this. why? well, she's the one who told him to do so.

mashiro decided to tell her plan to hanbin step by step. her excuse was that she didn't want him to rush things, but the truth is that she had no plan and her idea was just to make things up little by little. plus, she wanted to toy with him a little. wasn't it the reason she was helping him? for her own entertainment?

you slightly jumped when you heard the sound of someone sitting at your table. that day, the cafeteria was kind of empty. it spring and the sun was shining, so people would rather eat outside then there. so, why would anyone seat at your table when there was plenty free ones? mashiro, sitting in front of you, was smiling in a way that meant no good. you watched as xiaoting greeted a boy you didn't know.

"it's been a while, hao!"

"i know!! since there's place at your table, i kinda dragged the boys so i could eat with you."

you frowned. the boys? zhang hao? you turned to see who just sat next to you, only to find hanbin. at first, you brain didn't get the information right, so you just went back to eating. however, when the realization hit you, your eyes widened. now you remember! xiaoting's close childhood friend is zhang hao. and you knew about hao and hanbin's relationship...

"hey", hanbin simply said with a fresh smile.

"why aren't you sitting next to hao?"

"because he's talking to xiaoting and i'll feel left out... and i'd rather sit next to you if i have the occasion to."

chaehyun coughed to hide the fact she was trying not to laugh at the scene taking place in front of her. you looked horrified and it was hard not to laugh at the face you were making.

"why would you suddenly come to eat lunch with us?" you asked hanbin.

"well, you know hao and xiaoting are good friends. he just wanted to hang out with her for a bit. he's kinda busy these days so he doesn't get the occasion to see her much. i guess he's gonna use the lunch time to stay with her more..."

it was all lies. well, only partly. sure, hao missed his friend, but he had plenty of time to see her only together. he was not busy at all. hanbin used him as an excuse to fulfill mashiro's plan.

after they all finished eating, hao was the first one to stand up to announce him and the other boys were leaving. your suspicious eyes followed the group as they were leaving the cafeteria, and you saw hanbin's arm sneaking around the chinese boy's waist. you rolled your eyes. you turned your attention to xiaoting, who was peacefully finishing her lunch.

"xiaoting."

"yes?"

"you're very close to hao, right?"

"yes! i've known him for years now, and our families are pretty close."

"and when do you plan on telling him that his boyfriend is cheating on him?"

the girls sitting around the table with you were shocked.

"hao has a boyfriend?" chaehyun asked.

"and he's cheating on him..?" yujin added, not sure of where that information came from.

"what are you talking about?" xiaoting genuinely asked.

"hanbin! you know he was flirting with me! that's one of the main reasons why i hate him, he's dating zhang hao at the same time."

xiaoting rested her face in her hands, sighing heavily. she was exhausted at how dumb you are. yujin's eyes were going to you, then back at xiaoting, then back at you again. she was just waiting for one of you to add something.

"y/n, hao and hanbin are not dating."

[frogchiro]

Ok quick question tho like I’m generally trying understand because I just saw that whole argument on your page

How is engaging in a sexual relationship with something you portray as a animal not a type of zoephilla or however u say it I just don’t get it. Like I get it’s a human walking around as a cow but you’re still making that person act and behave as a cow so it’s coming off as a naughty cow that needs to be punished right?. Because if that was the case why can’t it just be getting punished without the animal part? Like what would being an animal add to it?

I’m really trying to get this like not trying to start shit because I’ve never heard about this before 👍🤗

And you're a completely blank blog who comes into a 18+ space. Yummers. To be perfectly clear, I'm only entertaining you because I really have enough of this argument and this is the last thing I'm posting about this and then I'm closing it.

I have no idea where the idea that when writing/reading about hybrid characters is about fucking actual animal came from and I frankly don't want to know but here's the thing: they are literally humans with some animal traits. The traits being ears, tails, sometimes a bit of extra fur or horns and that's it. Hybrids are written to be perfectly able to speak, think, do things for themselves, just are regular humans with some unusual traits. The farm/forest/whatever setting people are writing for are just that- settings for a specific au or scene that the authors create but again, the hybrid characters are perfectly capable of voicing and giving/revoking consent, sane adults and it's always explicitly stated. If you read a hybrid character as an actual animal then it's you whos the problem bc why the hell would you even do that. Like. Why.

Put on a headband with cat ears and tell me what happened. Did you turn into a cat? Did you turn into an animal or do you feel like one? Ofc you don't and the same thing is with hybrids. They're humans with fucking ears and tails but the only difference is that they can move them.

If you really wanna be nitpicky then why not bash a/b/o too since the characters have ruts/go through heats/behave in a generally much more animalistic way? Why don't we go further and throw out the mermaid trope too that's been with humanity since the dawn of time? Succubus trope? Yeah fuck that too.

I'm seeing a ton of negativity and toxicity in the cod fandom lately with some random people bashing and shittalking authors who guess what, creating content for free. No ones paying us to write, we do it bc we like to do it out of our free will. It takes time and effort to put out even a blurb and shit like this is just discouraging me and other content creators which results in them stopping writing or leaving the fandom alltogether and honestly? I don't blame them at all and I thought more than once to do the same.

But back on track. My advice? Don't get into anime, like, ever. Because then you will be in for a ride when a uwu catgirl pops up pal.

[bludermaus]

Another Emperor Post for you all

First of all, just forgive me for not being good at elaboration my opinions, but here we go:

I think another reason people dislike The Emperor is because they have this incessant need to be friends with everybody if they're doing a "good run", and if you're not friendly to the player then you're deserving of no mercy, nuance and greyness be damned

We see that on how people shit on Wulbren. Like, I don't like the guy that much, but I can see the nuance of someone that was maybe a nice person and became so full of bitterness that they start lashing against others and going to extreme measures to do what they *think* is right. It's not elaborated why and we can speculate forever, but if you save Wulbren and Barcus is dead he's far far nicer to you, so people might be extra pissy about him just because Barcus is a sweetie, so by consequence Wulbren is the worst for not being nice to him

Another example is Lae'zel. I love her, but how many times have we seen people saying that they hate her or left her in the camp not bothering with learning about her because she's initially very standoffish? Just because she's not friendly enough, she's not hugging you from the get-go and saying niceties, not worshipping the ground you step on immediately? Sure, she can become friendly and even an actual friend to you later, but that's not supposed to be a requirement for someone to be liked

And then we have The Emperor. Manipulation and ommission of information is not a friendly thing to do, so automatically evil, how dare he! Except that... He's not your friend and he doesn't (initially) want to be, he's an ally by necessity (and let's be honest, every companion there is working together just by necessity. For example: Pre-tadpole Wyll and Astarion would probably have killed each other in different circumstances) and he's interested in your success in the mission, nothing more or less. And let's be honest, considering that he didn't even want to be in this situation in the first place, he's actually very friendly and nice to you, manipulations aside... Manipulations by the way to make you save the world/yourself, which you'd have wanted to do anyway he just helped point you in the right way and guide you to get there faster

But in the end you can genuinely have a friendship with him, it's just that people disregard his feelings because of some sort of idealized idea of friendship where you must be huggy huggy and message each other daily. I am great friends with someone with whom I haven't talked to in like 3-4 months... Does that mean we're not good friends? We don't message each other enough? To me The Emperor would be this kind of friend and that's okay, you'll visit him like once or twice a year, have some conversation and then leave, maybe write letters every now and then, you both value each other's life and that's it, friendship acquired

This accidentally became a post about how his feelings are genuine >:c He doesn't strike me as the "master manipulator" like haters make him out to be, The Emperor is a business nerd with zero social skills who needs therapy and my Tav can fix him, I sincerely believe that if you've been friendly to him the whole game he is genuine when at the end of the game he says he'll miss you... You're one of the only non-illithid to have not treated him like shit and didn't betray him and chose someone else's life over his when you had the chance, you accepted him for what he is and was nice/professional about it. And if you've become a Mind Flayer then obviously he's elated that he's gonna have a buddy to talk to, someone of his own new race who would understand him the best in a way others wouldn't

Okay rambling over, feel free to continue scrolling Tumblr uwu

[starlightsearches]

Congratulations on your huge milestone!!! 🥳

I have to go with Track 5: Landslide - I love me some Fleetwood Mac and I also love me some angst.

Can I request it be for Steve Harrington? And no prompt - take the reigns 🥰

-@superblysubpar

Stay the Night

Track 5: Landslide by Fleetwood Mac - Give me a character and an angst prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

thanks for the request and the congratulations, bestie! i hope you enjoy 🥰

Fuckboy! Steve x Fem! Reader

Warnings: angst, discussions of a sexual relationship but no actual sex, mentions of drinking, no happy ending, mentions of potential sexual assault + just generally creepy behavior towards the reader, language, and I think that's it! Let me know what you think my loves uwu

There are rules when you're fucking Steve Harrington.

You can't acknowledge him at school. No words or waves or even longing looks if people are around. He gets all sulky, though, if you're not paying attention to him when he joins you somewhere private—like the back tables in the library where nobody goes.

He'll pout at you with big eyes, stroke his fingers up the inside of your thigh when you're trying to study and then he'll smile like you're his favorite person in the world. Saying shit like we won't get caught, sweetheart, promise, or need you so bad, please, just this once.

That always ends the same way.

You can go to his house when his parents are gone, but he'll never go to yours. Steve will fuck you in the back of his car any night you can manage to sneak out, but he'll only wait twenty minutes at the most.

He gets quiet if you mention any of the girls you see him with. He gets loud if he thinks other guys might be looking at you.

Steve likes it when you pull on his hair when he's between your legs, when you say no the first few times he tries something, when you cry while he's fucking into you with those long, slow strokes.

He doesn't want you to leave marks on him. He doesn't want you to cover up the marks he leaves on you.

Steve won’t let you stay the night, but you can't leave right away. You gotta let him nuzzle into your neck and kiss at your skin with his soft pink pout and he doesn't want to know about it if you feel like crying.

And, most important of all, Steve does not want anybody to think you might be together.

You feel stupid, walking up the car-lined street with your book bag slung over your shoulder. The party's just up the road, loud enough you can hear the music and the sounds of laughter from where you parked a couple blocks away.

Steve's house is lit from every window when you catch a glimpse through the trees, people poured across the lawn, blissful and unaware, just happy to be young and beautiful and drunk.

It's so obvious you shouldn't be here. That you don't belong here. But Steve called, and you answered. And you're too stupid to stay away.

The inside of the house is ripe with the smell of beer, sweaty condensation rolling down the windows. There's more bodies inside, packed tight in all the spaces you're used to seeing empty. Nobody looks in your direction. They don't even feel it when you try to push past.

Steve's not in the living room, or the kitchen, or the yard. He's not half naked in the pool or doing keg stands surrounded by a chanting crowd or making out with anybody in the far corners of the room.

You push up against a wall, trying to keep anybody from noticing you, chewing at your lip. Maybe you should leave. You take a step in that direction, but the way is blocked. You're left face to chest with an ugly striped polo.

Fuck.

"Didn't think I'd see you here, sweetheart. Who sent you the invite?"

Tommy H. has a smile that always makes you sick to your stomach. The way his eyes rake over you—like he's hungry and torturing you is the only thing that can satisfy—the little raise of his brows every time he makes you go quiet.

He steps closer, caging you in with a casual arm as he tilts his head to the side, considering the easiest way to swallow you whole.

"I'm looking for Steve—"

Your back thumps against the wall, and you remember that Tommy doesn't know how many times Steve has promised to beat the shit out of his best friend for looking at you, for cat-calling down the hallways, for all those shitty remarks he's scrawled on the bathroom walls with your name attached.

Those were just words. A stage promise, a kind of roleplay Steve slipped into you any time he wanted to repay you for swallowing his cum.

"—Harrington," you finish, in a weak attempt to save yourself, "this is his house, right?"

Tommy cocks a brow, but he nods.

"I have his homework. The paper for Mrs. Click's class."

You pat your bag, even though there's no paper in there. Steve came up with the excuse the second or third time he yanked you into the girl's bathroom after the bell rang for first period. Just in case anybody saw. This is the only time you've had to use it.

Tommy rakes his tongue over his chapped bottom lip, and your nails bite into your palms. You've got to count to keep your breath steady, to keep your vision from going white at the edges with fear of what he might do next—push you against the wall or laugh at you or drag you with a hand over your mouth somewhere nobody would hear you scream.

But he just steps back, stretching out his shoulders. He must be bored of you. For now.

"Harrington's upstairs. You might wanna knock first, before opening any doors, though."

Tommy let's you slide past, leaving just enough room you've got to brush up against him. You're at the base of the stairs when he calls out, loud enough you can hear him over the music.

"Maybe I'll join you later," Tommy says, and he waits until you look back at him to jack off an imaginary dick, just to emphasize his point.

You run the rest of the way. No looking back.

It's quiet on your side of Steve's door, the sounds of the party a thousand miles away from where you stand, letting your fingers just rest on the handle. Thinking about what Tommy said.

Whatever. If Steve had a girl in there with him, then maybe you could go home. Maybe you'd finally have a reason to be so angry with him all the time.

You push your way inside, into the darkness that your eyes don't adjust to right away. Steve's bed ripples, the covers peeling back from the head of his bed. His smile gleams in the dim slats of light from the window.

"Baby," he coos loudly, holding onto that e sound at the end until he's almost shouting.

He only calls you baby when he's drunk. You shut the door behind you quick enough there's no chance the partiers downstairs could've heard it.

There's nobody else in Steve's bed. No other girls—besides you—when you join him on the mattress, brushing a few hairs from his forehead until you can actually see his eyes, big and brown and looking up at you like you're golden.

He pushes his head into your hand, cat-like, begging to be petted, sneaking an arm around your waist. And the Steve you're used to is already pushy, but it's even worse when he's wasted. You literally have no choice but to do what he wants, yanking you down until you're laying beside him, nose to nose, sharing the same pillow.

"Everybody's being so loud," Steve mumbles, wearing a deep frown, "I just wanted to sleep."

"Not in a party mood?" you ask with a laugh that comes out just a little sad.

Steve sighs, flopping onto his back and dragging you with him. "Tommy's idea. Wish they'd all go home."

Fuck, he's cute—and his body is so warm against yours, holding you like it's what his arms were made for.

You shut your eyes tight and try not to think about a time before you realized he didn't want you the way you wanted him to, when you thought you could be with him like this whenever.

But this isn't the real Steve.

He's not going to walk down the halls with his hand in your back pocket. Or look for you in the stands at his basketball games. He won't take you to the movies just to make out with you in the back row, won't smile like he's showing off when people see you together. You won't have prom pictures with Steve that you look at years from now. You won't have anything to look back on that'll make you smile.

You swallow down the pit in your stomach, wiggling in his grasp.

"I should go."

Steve just grips at you tighter. "No, baby. Stay."

"It's late, Steve. I've gotta go home."

He hums his dissent, rolls over until he's squishing you into the mattress. His big eyes are wet and shiny when they meet yours.

"Just tonight, okay? Don't— don't wanna be alone."

Fuck. You'd end up in your grave before you learned how to say no to Steve Harrington.

He knows it, too—you know he does—because without you saying a word, Steve rolls off you, and you don't try to leave.

"You're too good for me," he whispers, fingers twining in yours, "did you know that?"

There's tears wetting the pillow you rest your head on. Steve's room is getting blurry.

"Yeah, Steve. I know."

He doesn't say another word, and you don't want him to. Laying on his bed like a corpse beside him, listening to the way his breathing grows slower, calmer. The grip of Steve's fingers loosens, and when you pull your hand from his and all he gives you is a grunt, you know he's asleep.

You slip out of the door before he has the chance to wake up. You hope it'll be the last time.