sol-consort

[sol-consort]

in case anyone want to write accurate fainting: there are two types:

The first you feel slowly building up as you lose your sight bit by bit, the world dimming around you. Next goes your ability to stand up, it's better to sit down with dignity than have gravity force you down. Your hearing is usually the last to go, it feels like someone is muffling your ears, even nearby sounds feel distant and slightly echoing.

The second is the abrupt one with no warning beforehand. from the perspective of the person losing consciousness, while you can clock some symptoms if this is a common occurrence to you, you really can't tell when it actually happens.

Because all you do is blink once, then your brain pulls the plug. Just a normal blink like any other, neither heavy nor slow, except this time your eyes don't get to open again before you're completely disconnected from the world. It's like the world's shortest nap. Because just like falling asleep, you don't realise it happened only after it's done. When you open your eyes again, it feels like waking up from a dream, but instead of your pillow, you're met with the hard floor, which results in the line of thought "where tf am I" that quickly turns into "ow my back!" once you attempt to move and realise the uncomfortable position your body decided to fold into like a pile of laundry onto the floor.

Then you have a small burst of energy as all the symptoms and pain momentarily dissipate. Your brain kindly floods you with just enough adrenaline so you'd drag yourself somewhere safer than the stinky floor—preferably a bed. You have little spacial awareness, your subconscious has the steering wheel as it guides you through muscle memory alone. You barely register anything on the way, it's all one big haze, unless it's something your brain decides is alarming or important like grabbing your phone from the floor or noticing the small droplets of blood next to the damn thing. You pass by a mirror but don't focus on it enough to notice the blood at the corner of your mouth, it's only noticed much later after you've regained your energy; taste and smell are deemed unimportant in a body emergency and all sensory inputs from them are immediately trashed.

Collapsing on the bed, you'll breathe frantically like you just ran a marathon. Give it ten or so minutes of rest, before you're back to feeling as shitty as you first did. All the pain and uncomfortable sensations that resulted in you losing consciousness in the first place are back in full swing, plus the new addition of back pain from your previous fall.

But hey, at least this time you're laying down. There is this distant feeling of nausea, a faint high pitched ringing in your ears that occasionally comes and goes, varying in volume, and lastly the uncontrollable shaking of your limbs, simmering down intona tremble. Your grasp on things will unexpectedly falter on occasion for the remainder of the day, you're at high risk of dropping things without realising it. Your cognitive functions are impaired as well. You'll feel cold, unbelievably cold, even if it's the first week of August.

You won't feel like eating, but you'll be immensely hungry. Your head won't start throbbing from the fall until much later. The brain is a magician at hiding pain until it's sure you can take it, draping exhaustion over you like a mother with a blanket. That rush of energy that saved your ass needs to be paid back, and preferably very soon.

And last but not least: If you're a lunatic, you'll start thinking of how to turn this traumatic experience into a writing piece as a way to vent your emotions.

[sol-consort]

Any thoughts on the aliens ideas of under wear (I mean that in the least weird way possible)

Was doing research into corsets and thought about turians and salarians in shapewear (and what shapes they might want to highlight or hide)

Underwear could be a human thing for all we know, it's been part of our history since the Stone Age in the shape of loinloths.

So why do humans wear underwear? Because:

Cleanliness: Human genitals are prone to exert body fluids (discharge, periods, any small leakage, etc)

Hygiene: It helps prevents infections and acts as a second barrier against bacteria. It's why you should change it daily, it collects bacteria.

Security: We're squishy with external non-retractable genitals, extra padding down there should ease your mind. Plus Pubic hair can get caught up in zippers.

Smell: Sweat and oil tend to collect on our skin, a good cotton underwear helps prevent sweating. Not to mention having a moist area for too long can lead to bacteria getting in the urinal track and humans are prone to UTIs

Comfort: it agitates the skin to have your private parts constantly rubbing against your legs. It helps regulate the temperature and shield it from being exposed to the elements.

"Decency": We're kind of pear-clutching social species that loves having taboos and policing others. It's why nudists still struggle to grow their community. We experience the emotional range of shame and built a society upon silent expectations: You wouldn't show up to a job interview in a bikini.

Depending on how many points an alien species checks off the list, chances are they might not wear underwear.

What use does it serve to a species with retractable, plated, self-cleaning genitals that fully absorbs all of its periods, shedding, and discharge? Even for the hygiene aspects, aliens have a different biology with different immune responses against bacteria.

However, there is ONE species that is very likely to use underwear in Mass Effect.

The Angara

At least the loincloth on the centered one implies it.

Shapewear is a different story, unlike underwear, it's mainly used for structural support and aesthetics. The Salarians definitely use it, otherwise what's this arch structure incorporated in the fronts of their suits? As for the turians, I don't have the slightest idea. I doubt our corests would do anything to them, we're soft flesh, they're hard metal.

[sol-consort]

Part Two - Garrus

Rough sex, Degradation, Older turian/younger human, Restraining, Standing up sex, Sleezy Garrus.

Pt.1 - Javik

During the first meeting, Garrus not-so-subtly name drops the Archangel title. The satisfaction that spreads through him as the recognition in Ryder's eyes turns into astonishment is unparalleled.

Finally someone who actually appreciates his talents, he's definitely taking advantage of your green military history to show off at every opportunity. Impressing the Pathfinder is a piece of cake for a turian like him. Fully encompassing the cool mentor role you unawarely set him out to play the second you looked at him awestruck.

And what a hero he is. "Let this old turian take care of you" he loves playing the age card to shush your words away. To steer you into his arms, a hug that is a bit uncomfortably tight, pressing your flesh against his metal plates, so much so that when he lets go, you definitely see the imprint of his talons on your arms.

It's just to ease your nerves. You're clueless and new, you don't know what you need. While he has been around humans for so many years now, he's practically a human expert, so he can tell what you need, and when you need it.

Stick with him, and he'll teach you all the tricks in the book. Your inexperience only fuels the flames of desire inside him. Aren't you just the most adorable? Might as well hug the enemy to death if your plan on leading this team consists of politely asking them to join you on missions instead of the usual order-barking Shepard got them accustomed to.

What's the difference? A question can be answered with no. Your mission requests are rejected more often than not by his peers who would much rather attend to their own projects than babysit the fledgling Captain.

For the first few days the Normandy crew thought Shepard was playing an elaborate prank on them by leaving Ryder in command. Surely, this is some bad joke and their Commander will return sooner than later, right? Except days turned into weeks and no party poppers sound from around the corner, it became abysmally clear that you're here to stay. With your lack of a spine, most of the crew rarely complied with your "orders" as for the ones that did, they mostly did it out of pity.

All except old reliable Garrus who stayed by your side through thick and thin. Isn't he such a great guy?

Oh don't get him wrong, he honestly has no idea what Shepard was thinking by assigning you to the Normandy. What was it that Wrex said? The krogan summed it up perfectly: Ryder's not a commander, more like the Commander's bitch.

It made Garrus choke on his drink in laughter, not that you'd ever know from the way he defends you against other crew members whenever you're within earshot. It just so happens that he springs to your defense only at the far end of the conversation, letting it drag before finally putting a stop into it right before it's about to die.

But you're reading too much into it; it surely means nothing. He's a great guy, he always tells you that.

Who else would tag along on all those difficult missions and lift a major weight from your shoulders? Even the hardest fights are a breeze with a sniper this deadly in your corner.

Garrus never grows tired or bored, either, even as you keep dragging him from one mission to the next because he's one of the few that actually listens to you. If anything, he grows more excited with each one, brimming with unspent energy and blazing heat at the end of the battle. Almost as if all the bloodshed and fighting excited him. Showing off his skills whilst playing hero and protecting his helpless Captain at every turn? It's his very own personal haven.

His touches grow bolder with each passing day, claws lingering on your shoulder, sliding down to your waist, and as he helps you onto the shuttle, you feel it squeeze your ass.

Say, Pathfinder, have you ever seen a turian's tongue?

it glows, humans like glowing blue things, right?

Come here, have a closer look. Not like there's anything else to do while waiting for the evacuation shuttle.

Very big huh? You should let him try and see if it can fit down your throat, it's the least you can do for The Archangel. It will be just for a few minutes, no one is watching, come on.

It, in fact, doesn't fit down Ryder's throat. But that didn't stop Garrus from coaxing you into a kiss after another. The uncomfortable scratch of his beak against your soft lips made them swollen.

The more and more he drove his tongue inside, the more your jaw ached from being opened wide for so long. Exploring the whole of your mouth, tongue brushing against the roof, slithering down your throat in another attempt to have you deep throat it, as if he's trying to fuck your mouth with his tongue in these few minutes.

True to his words, he pulls away once the ride home arrives.

But once you board the shuttle, you can't shake the feeling that something changed in his demeanor. The way he looks at you is slightly different. That a line was crossed, the point of no return behind you.

From that point on, whenever Garrus's nearby, he has his hands on Ryder in some shape or form. Be it an arm draped over your shoulder, or his chin resting atop your head as he reads what you're typing on your omni-tool.

Ranging from casual friendly touches, to more intimate and inappropriate ones. Running a single finger up your chest, watching the goosebumps form on the back of your neck. Hooking his claw into the waistband of your clothes, watching it snap back into place with a startled sound from you.

There's this distant sound of purring whenever he's nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Starkly different from the reassuring deep rumbling of Vetra's purring you've grown used to. Garrus's higher in pitch with a faster frequency, more defined as you feel the vibrations travel down your body.

"Say, Captain" A certain implicitness underlined that word whenever Garrus spoke it, an off feeling to it, not one Ryder could recognise. "That turian you had in your explorer crew, blown off steam with her before?"

Ryder thinks about it for a moment, then nods.

At that, Garrus instantly perks up. "How about gaining a different point of reference? To keep in your back pocket" As he says that, his own fingers slide down your back, emphasising his point by hooking them into your own pocket. His touch framed in a casual manner, yet the hungry look in his eyes was anything but. You can't help but look at the razor teeth lining the insides of his mouth, akin to oversized needles stacked against one another.

They were made for the sole purpose of tearing flesh apart in the most crude and cruel way. As painful as they are efficient in piercing skin. So easy to forget: this is a predator you're getting chummy with.

You agree, against your better judgement.

Oh the wrestling? No, let's skip that. Garrus explains. Yes it plays a vital role for turians, but you're not nearly as strong or durable as one of his kind, and he doesn't want his cute little Captain getting injured. Yeah... he knows he doesn't skip that with Shepard but it's because Shepard can keep up with him and well... you're no Shepard, are you?

So wouldn't you rather just lay down on the bed, spread your legs for him, and let this old turian take care of you like he always does? Empty that little head of yours from all the burdens of leadership and let him take charge. He can push your legs to your chest, practically folding you in half as he rams—

Fine, since you're so insistent on this wrestling thing, even to claim you can take it, that your silly explorer training makes you capable enough to keep up with him, he'll do it for you, but only this once, alright?

Just don't blame him when he makes you eat those words.

Ten minutes in, and you're barely keeping balance on your wobbling legs. He has both the reach and fast reflexes to trip you onto the floor faster than you can blink. Stand there towering over you as you pick yourself back up.

He'd usually lend a helping hand, he's a gentleman. But it would ruin the immersion of wrestling, wouldn't it?

"But... I could keep up with Vetra"

Garrus doesn't stifle his amused snicker "Clearly she's been holding back, not wanting to bruise your little ego."

The next time you lose your footing courtesy of a particular kick you didn't see, you find yourself hanging in the air instead of colliding onto the ground again.

Garrus holding you up by the scruff of your collar.

By the spirits, you're the embodiment of all the human fantasies he had when he was younger. As clumsily as a fawn and twice as pretty. The very same ones he so naively thought about becoming a reality with Shepard, only for the commander to shatter them completely alongside some of his jaw as he got his ass handed to him in what's supposed to be a friendly match time after time.

Instead of putting you back on your feet, Garrus lifts Ryder even higher. His other arm wrapping around you from under your shoulder.

Shepard never let him top, thighs of steel riding his cock, stone cold expression as Garrus was crumbling from beneath on the bed. Going to shower after leaving him spent and discarded on the bed.

Your feet dangle above the floor, Garrus held you up in the air like a ragdoll, suspended in a full Nelson.

And you just had to come along and reignite all of his past dreams, tempt him with your coy oblivious act. How could you have known that the archangel himself is a perverted old turian that fisted his cock many times at night thinking about how heavenly a tight human hole would feel wrapped around him. Were you sent to him on purpose? It's almost too good to be true, how you're the perfect balance of helpless, clueless, and extremely fuckable. You're straight out of a turian's wet dream, it's always been his fantasy to have an adorable young human Capitan that he bends on the regular.

Ah if Shepard finds out...

His tenting hardness presses against your back, grinding into the soft fat of your ass.

The Commander's going to be so pissed.

Which just makes this even sweeter. All it takes is a calculated swipe of his claws for the stretchy fabric to tear and rip off. Exposing the squishy parts of your inner thighs. Freeing his cock and squeezing it in-between the pudgy fat of your thighs. It's criminal how soft human skin is; your exterior is practically the wall lining of a turian cunt.

Kept on his thick cock in the most degrading position. Suspended by his hold in the air like you're a soft plushie with your arms hanging limply to the side, lifted above the turian's. How easily he can move your body like it's nothing, sliding your back and forth on his dick, pre-cum staining your inner thighs.

"Fuck, you feel even better than I expected." A noticeable raspiness in his voice, teeth clenched after he finishes his sentence as if he's resisting a primal urge. Between every pleasure-filled groan and the next, a faint laugh could be heard, Garrus's still in disbelief of just how well this rushed plan had worked. "If I knew you were this easy... oh spirits" His cock twitches between your thighs, hot and thick, you obediently keep your legs squeezed around it.

Drenched in its own pre-cum, the tip presses against your entrance. "You said you could take it, so..."—Ryder's slammed down on the full length of his cock, the feeling of being penetrated so suddenly makes you cry out in pain—"Take it, yeah, just like that. What a good Captain you are."

Pulling almost all the way out, only keeping the head inside as your ring of muscles squeeze deliciously around it. Garrus slams inside a second time, enjoying twisting your cries into pleasure each time he repeats the process.

Humans ran hot, it felt like your insides were trying to melt his cock. How your sweet hole squeezed around him each time he pulled out in a pathetic attempt to keep his dick stuffed inside.

You're supposed to be the one being fucked dumbed and yet Garrus feels like the control's slipping from him, the same primal urges rearing their head and chipping at his brain. Why did you smell so mouthwateringly sweet? Why can't he focus on anything but the urge to fuck and breed you until something takes root inside, even if it meant rearranging your guts and overflowing you with his cum.

Not like the latter part is hard to achieve; you humans are so unbelievably small in comparison to them, you'd inevitability choke from attempting to swallow his cum down your throat—is what his one-nights experience with humans he picks up from Purgatory proved to him.

Yet they'd always try regardless, stubborn creatures aren't you?

Well look where your ego led you: being speared on his cock and used like a fleshlight, clenching and spasming around a big mean alien cock. Garrus doesn't even need to hold you like that, one hand is more than enough to clutch around your stomach and move you up and down his cock. But he prefers this by a far margin; humans are more docile with their arms restrained.

See? He really is an expert on your species.

The collar covering the back of Ryder's neck is getting on his nerve, practically salivating at the idea of being presented with your bare vulnerable neck. But this is for the best. Turian skin is much thicker than humans, so while he wouldn't exactly rip your throat out, it will get dangerously close.

Your thighs on the other hand are a safe bet to sink his teeth into, so plump and inviting. Just what perverted course of nature could've led to human evolution?

Lowering his head, Garrus rests his chin atop your head like he did so many times before, he takes a good look at your flushed face. Clumped eyelashes and bitten lips. Ryder's neck cranes as you're positioned to meet him halfway for a kiss. Saliva pools at the corners of your mouth as he pushes his tongue down your throat, cock pushing in and out from below.

Like a prey in a spider's web, restrained and suspended. Made to be fucked over and over until the turian using your body decides when it ends, declaring it by the hot cum painting your insides.

The one subordinate that gave you a resemblance of the respect your position demanded, and now he's balls deep inside you. And the worst part might be how willing and eager your body is to cooperate, to give up the pretence of a Captain and become putty in his grasp. How easily you fold once someone stroked your cock or flicked your clit, as if a switch was flipped in your brain that erases any and all traces of sense, reducing you to a needly eager fuckdoll.

Ryder's never able to deliver this kind of pleasure by your own hands. It was always so difficult to bring yourself to release. You always needed a helping hand, or a mouth. Someone to guide you through your orgasms, someone who knows your body better than you, who will hold your hand as they fingered you raw.

Well, Garrus provides all of these things, for the most part. Less hand-holding and more arm-restraints.

Your own juices have been dribbling all over the floor for a while, pooling in a small shameful puddle. Glossy against the Normandy's metal floor. Garrus's curved cock is perfect for hammering against that rough patch of skin inside you, the sensitive spot he's keen on abusing. Your body's aching all over, especially your still lifted arms. Legs cramping from hanging in the air for so long. Yet all these uncomfortable sensations are overshadowed by the unrelenting pleasure that's numbing your brain. The occasional filthy confession sounding from Garrus in a heat of the moment bravado only aiding to replace whatever still-lingering shame inside you with an unusual sense of acceptance. Until the word "slut" held nothing but positive affiliations to your brain. Oh how that title made you rub your thighs together all needy, heat rising to your face from enjoying such a degrading word so much.

Melting into the kiss, surrendering to the tongue invading your throat, relaxing it as best as you can while Garrus pushed for more and more. Give an inch and he greedily takes a mile.

Ryder's aware of the orgasm washing over the turain by the snapping sound of the turian's involuntary bite against the empty air. Sharp teeth digging into one another, the vibrating purring morphing into a growl as he empties his cum inside you, not letting a single drop go to waste.

[sol-consort]

Javik to Ryder, just giving them a new uniform

Ryder:...this is just lingerie (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

Javik: Much more fitting for your purpose, bedwarmers don't need armor

My god he'd be such a dick!!!!

[sol-consort]

Ryder's dad rolling in his grave because wtf do you mean his sweet baby is surrounded by a bunch of perverted freaks that want nothing more than to push up your legs to your chest and have you moaning their names.

I'm telling you there's a reason Alec "We don't fuck with the military. We don't befriend them. And we never associate with them in this household" Ryder kept his children shielded on Earth before whisking them away to a whole different galaxy.

Nepotism runs deep in the military. Being a whole N7 ment he could've scured them positions on any of the prestigious combat ships. And yet, he didn't. Instead he took his twins and ran the opposite way when presented with the military prospects of their future; his kids are soft and pure hearted! Those dogs would eat them alive! Literally prefering to haul ass to Andromeda and make them explorers of beautiful golden worlds and spend their time amongst the flora and fauna, rehabilitating their new home.

Not sending them alone, but coming with them. Not just as a parent but as their very own Captian. To not risk his babies having to obey some creepy older Captian who might take advantage of their naivety (which he is highly at fault for nurturing) and to keep an eye out in case some of their peers are a bad influence or something (The one time he caught teen Ryder with a cigarette he gave them a 6 hours long lecture + called the school and demanded they expel the classmate who gave it to them + Immediately moved them both out of public school into a private one)

Alec is the pinnacle of overprotective helicopter parent. Yes he's fun in exploring and always lets Ryder show off and fly at their own pace, but it's only because he's around. It's okay for them to act reckless and rash as long as he's nearby. And he lowkey shows off a lot to impress them, he still refers to himself as the cool dad.

Why would he do any of that? He's a N7 for God's sake, he was knee deep in Alliance culture, he probably had his fair share of sleeping with meak little things all over the galaxy. He's seen it all, he knows those people, he used to be one of them. You don't want to know the amount of asari orgies he's been in, there was even a korgan that one time. And he'll be damned if the world does to his babies what he used to do to other people, karma might be fast but he's faster!

I think Alec was so busy with his Sam project and paying the medical bills that he rarely if ever did any actual parenting. Missing birthday parties and graduations. So he tries to make up for it by being overbearing and overprotective whenever the opportunity allows. Strict = love in his book. The less they know about the grim reality of the world, the more happier his kids would be, or so he believed.

[sol-consort]

I think it's safe to assume that compared to Shepard, Ryder is a pillow princess. Which makes me think thoughts, like what it for a while Shepard is out of commission and thus the Crew somehow teams up with Ryder, ignoring the way this doesn't make sense in the timeline but WHATEVER.

The Crew, from seeing the Commanding Shepard, that's always on business and knows what to do, to the newbie Ryder, who just just so new to this and nowhere near the level of composed as Shepard.

Anyway sex, let's talk about sex. Javik, my god Javik would be so MEAN. Bouncing Ryder up and down his cocks while just full on saying that Ryder's time is better spent warming cocks, leave the fighting to the real soldiers.

Garrus would see how naive and innocent Ryder is, obviously not ready for such a large role. Just let this old Turian take care of everything, you just sit back and don't move a finger. Old Man Garrus fucking the new Pathfinder Full Nelson style, teehee.

Wrex just being a asshole, teasing the hell out of you and shit. That old man is so mean :(

.....lowkey need Hackett being a bit pervy with the new blood Ryder.

Like you are trying so hard but it's too much and you just miss your dad :[

Sure, you can fight pretty well but being a Commander is not in your blood, just let these more experienced heroes take care of things, no need to hurt that little head with too much thinking.

I deeply DEEPLY fuck with your mind, anon, I need you in my inbox everyday of the week stat. Either that or we become a hivemind so I could get more of those juicy ideas oh my god it's genius! why didn't I think of that!!!

Part One - Javik

[Rough sex, Explicit smut, Verbal degradation, Double penetration, Superiority complex]

Pt.2 - Garrus

He had you figured out since day one, all it took was a single touch. If the squeak slipping from Ryder after accidentally bumping into him wasn't already evident enough, then the waves of emotions he felt—courtesy of the brief contact—swirling inside you confirmed his suspicion: you don't belong here.

With an awkward smile you attempted to remedy the situation by making introductions, what better way for a newly appointed Captain to gain the trust of their crew.

Except Javik didn't hear a single thing you're saying, fully ignoring the words coming out of your mouth and sizing you up and down. Looming over you, four eyes assessed your physical build and mannerism, taking in everything from the twinkle in your eyes, the slight nervousness in your clammy palms, to the lack of defined muscles under your flimsy Pathfinder suit.

Sure you had something going on there, but nothing in comparison to the sculpted muscles of The Commander.

You won't bite, he concluded that, you're meak, Javik's theory was proven right as you didn't stop him when he reached to grab you. Confusion painted across your features as his hand shamelessly wrapped around the base of your neck as if it was his birth right. And many cycles ago, it used to be. It was the right of every prothean to do as they please with lesser species, to expose another's whole being to them through a simple touch without prior notice.

In an instant all of the Pathfinder's innermost secrets, fears, and past experiences unfolded before his eyes. Overly intrusive in his prodding through your memories, not leaving a single corner of your brain untouched.

"You're no leader." He says, grip tightening around your neck, four eyes looking down at you in disgust. "You're barely fit to be a soldier."

This situation kept heading south the more it progressed, one moment you were happily getting acquainted with a memeber of your temporary crew, the next he's throwing rude accusations and getting too handsy.

"...I'm sorry?" You try to stay level headed and grant him the benefit of the doubt. You've been warned about how unnerving dealing with a prothean would be. This is fine. You can deescalate this situation just fine. "Listen maybe we got off on the wrong foot here, like I was saying I might not have military experience but I reassure you I'm—"

"An ill prepared explorer that ventures onto unkown planets as if it's picnic." Javik interrupts, hand moving from Ryder's neck to snap shut around their mouth. It's the image of Ryder that resonated into his mind. "Wasn't it for your father handing you a title you would've never amounted to on your own, you wouldn't be standing in front of the last prothean alive atop the most advanced military ship your species have to offer."

To think Shepard expected him to obey you, to follow your lead. What a joke.

He will find a use for you, a more fitting role.

It's Ryder's first day on the Normandy and you've already been assessed by a powerful being, failed the evaluation, and naively let him drag you to a secluded room.

Javik made sure to remind you of that while stuffing his cocks deep inside you.

One rubbing against the gummy walls of your cunt, too large to fully fit, leaving the coiled base outside, drenched in a mixture of your cum and juices. Forcing the rest inside would've ment bruising your womb as the tip kissed its entrance with every thrust. The second cock squeezed inside your ass, a tight fit as it pumped in and out of you, leaking its own lubricant. The smooth surface made it easier to drive the whole thing inside, going as deep as Ryder's body allowed, with no regards to your whining.

Or maybe both cocks frotted against one another as they stretched your ass open. Rendering you a babbling brainless mess on his lap, unable to string a coherent sentence from the feeling of being so impossibly full of cock. Legs growing numb, unable to grind back or pull away. Eyebrows scrunched, lips parted open, valvety walls pulsing and squeezing around him attempting to make sense of this intrusion.

Being met with Shepard first thing after wakening from cryo might have been to blame for the high standards he held for humanity. Yet even amongst the low ranks of the military, you stood out like a sore thumb. Absolutely nothing in you could fit the force, even your own body portrayed you as a harmless breedable little thing.

He can't say he hasn't fantasised about Shepard from time to time; only natural to admirable a formidable commander. All muscles and sheer power, presence demanding authority in every room. Now, as Javik had you on his lap, it became blatantly clear you're the exact opposite of that. Hips rounder, body smaller, ass more squeezable, skin too unblemished for what a soldier should have. Not a single scar in sight.

In his fantasises, Shepard would groan as Javik buried himself inside to the hilt, taking all of him like it's nothing with a devilish smirk, matching his energy and poise, leaving him completely spent in the aftermath.

Except you moan instead. mewl weakly like he's wounding you with every thrust. Paw at his chest and stifle hiccups as if you've never been properly fucked before, it's your first time being treated this roughly in bed.

Pathetically failing to set your own pace, not knowing how to fight for control, Ryder's subjected to his own brutal one with nothing to do but take it. It's what felt the most natural after all.

Ryder's arms wrapping around his shoulders, hugging the prothean to seek comfort while his cocks bully your insides. Double stuffing you on your first day, clearly annoyed that a bedwarmer like you hasn't been properly trained, that he has to be the one to break in the cocksleeve.

Your own release is the furthest thing from his mind. It makes no difference to him if Ryder's been edged for hours or rendered overstimulated from the multiple orgasms in a row; he's here to use you, not the other way around. You're his little human fleshlight, and your pretty holes's only job are to take his cocks inside, not cum your brain out until you're unable to speak.

Although, there is a certian appeal in that. Javik doesn't see a need for the Pathfinder speaking when he can realise all of your thoughts with a simple touch, feel what you feel.

This alien stranger understanding you better than anyone that came before him, and everyone who will come after him. Javik's truly looming over your soul, tasting your essence at the tip of his tongue. He doesn't just know what you think and feel, he gets it, fully comprehends it. He experiences it through you. Robbing Ryder from any resemblance of dignity by subjecting this intimacy on whatever hope of a professional relationship you could've had with him. First thing after meeting each other, he already established a profound connection that you can't sever.

You're completely exposed before him.

So save your voice, whatever you were going to say he already heard your brain constructing, alongside all the things you decided not to say. Your mouth is better suited for drooling than talking, your voice should be only reserved for making these obscene human noises, for moaning and crying as his hands move your body by the hips, bounce you up and down his cocks like you weighed nothing.

What are you even good for? You should be down on your knees worshipping your master prothean, your superior. Instead here you are on the verge of tears over something as primitive as this. In Javik's view, Ryder's impossibly coddled, too mushy and soft.

Your memories betray you; it's your crew who's to blame for pampering such a meak princess. Showering Ryder in praise on the battlefield for every nice shot or quick reflex—things that should be the bare minimum requirement for every soldier in Javik's opinion. Even if you were somewhat combat capable, your personality left a lot to be desired in terms of military leadership. So eager to run around and fix things like an errand kid, wasting resources doing frivolous missions, all smiley and friendly with everyone you meet, like handing leadership to an overeager puppy at best

Javik observed the Tempest crew through your memories, how they disregarded your authority for the first few weeks. Talking over you in meetings, arguing in your presence like you were nothing, leaving without waiting for you to dismiss them. Ryder's a complete pushover, too callow for a role like this.

That one time you naively thought begging them to stop arguing by politely asking with a please would actually do anything, leaves a sour taste at the back of his throat. The taste of your embarrassment and desperation. The personal flavour of your very own growing dread at the realising of just how big of a role you had to fill.

And when they eventually came around, it wasn't because they suddenly gained exceptional respect for you, but had more to do with how much you endeared yourself to them. Only finding their way into your bed—after a long period of easing you into it, did your command finally take root.

It all start with that angara, at first there was Jaal.

Jaal was never this rough with you, littering featherlight kisses from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. Going out of his way to find a nice secluded spot for the two of you. The angara preferred to admire your naked form under the moonlight rather than some fluorescent bulb in a suffocating ship. To steal you far away from the rest of the crew and have you all to himself.

Despite Jaal's biology overlapping with Javik to a lesser extent, Jaal only ever asked Ryder to take one of his cocks at a time.

Preparing you throughly beforehand, gentle fingers nestled inside your wet hole, slowly pumping in and out, working you open. Listening to your pleasure-filled sighs and keeping your comfort at the forefront of his mind.

A shudder running through him as he finally sinks his cock into you, starting with poping the head inside before giving pause. Holding you safely in his embrace as you adjusted to the size. It's not your fault humans are much smaller than angara, he's a paitent man, he will wait as long as it takes. Rubbing soothing circles against your stomach with one hand, thumbing against your clit with the other, or pumping your cock

Pushing the rest of his cock inside bit by bit, stopping whenever it becomes too much, pulling out and starting again. Not allowing a single trace of pain to slither it's way into your pure pleasure.

Staying behind to cuddle you each time. Your head buried into his chest, his large paw hugs the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he's trying to hide you inside his heart. The other hugging your waist, occasionally tracing up your spine. You feel the buzz of electricity at the tips of his fingers.

Looking at you with adoration, whispering sweet nothing reminders of the immense love and devotion he held for you. You, the dearest to his heart.

Javik's fingers dug into your hips, a bruising grip that is sure to leave its mark on Ryder for weeks to come. A punishing speed to his thrusts, brusing your insides just as equally with the coils' ridges dragging down your sensitive walls.

Then there was that turian, Vetra.

She held Ryder with the caution reserved for porcelain dolls, as if you're a delicate thing in her grasp. Blade-like nails stroking your skin with gentleness unbecoming of a turian.

Long glowing tongue slithering into your insides, savouring every taste. Ryder's plush thighs trembled squeezing around her head. Holding onto Vetra, your fingers wrapped around her biggest talon, clutching it for security as the vibrations from the back of her throat intensified your pleasure. Her mandibles tucked against her razor teeth as to prevent them from scratching your fragile human skin. Carefully coaxing your thighs apart with her other hand, press too much against her metallic plates and you might just accidentally hurt yourself, and she can't have that.

Her eyes closed as she ate you out, your juices akin to nectar down her throat. Every time she swallowed she kept going back for more. Your moans a symphony to her ears, especially the sound of her name coming from you. The desperation clung heavy to each syllable as your approaching orgasm made itself known. the knot of pleasure twisting inside you with as Vetra's tongue rubbed and prodded against your walls.

She drinks all of you when the waves of release ripple through your body. Savours the sweet taste of your cum at having made you finish on her tongue alone, Ryder's swollen clit left untouched and inbetween the folds. Either that or she pulls away, tongue wrapping around Ryder's leaking cock instead. Licking up the white stripes of cum as you release them, pride swelling inside her at how well behaved you are, how obediently you let her bring you to climax by fucking your hole with her tongue alone.

Sharp teeth sink into Ryder's flesh, like hooks attempting to pierce the thin layer of skin where your collar meets your shoulder. Javik doesn't falter as you writhe at the sudden pain, keeping you stuck between a rock and a hard place. Unable pull away downwards without forcing more of his cocks inside your already overstuffed hole, nor can you move back without the edges of his teeth digging deeper.

You're being bitten, marked all over like a sign of ownership over your body. Javik's unrelenting, bouncing you on his lap, fucking in and out without a care for the slight bulge forming on your navel the deeper he stuffs his cocks inside. Deeper than anyone has ever been inside you.

Finally there was the salarian. Kallo kissed you on the forehead for a job well done. Turning off the vibrator, he never pushed you past your limits, never overwhelmed you with all the colourful toys he keeps bringing into your room, wondering if you'd help him try them out.

How reassuringly sweet and gentle Kallo is with the whole ordeal. He Ryder laid on the bed like spoiled royalty while he did all the work. Experimental and precise with his touches. Using the toys to play with your body, bringing you to the precipice of release before pulling away. Your cute lips frowning as you reprimanded him for teasing you, for being so mean as to edge you.

No matter how badly he wanted to drag this on for hours, Kallo could never refuse you a request. Your pouting face and pleading eyes are his biggest weakness. He always relents at the end brings you to the heights of pleasure. Prefering your needs over his own, enjoying the blissful expression on your face, the fluttering eyelashes fighting off the sleepiness.

All content and smily, soaking in the aftermath of an orgasm.

With a final thrust, you felt the air pushed out of your lungs as your insides overflowed with the prothean's cum. The overwhelming sensation snapping Ryder awake from the fucked-out dreamy haze, the most obscene sound forced out from you that you barely recognised it as your own voice.

You needed him to pull out, it was too much. But clawing and tugging at him did nothing. Javik wasn't oblivious to your predicament, he could feel both your insides convulsing around him, and how you felt through your body.

He's enjoying having you pinned down like a bug far too much than he thought he would.

If only this telepathy thing went both ways, if only you could look at yourself through his eyes and realise how perfect you look in this state. Neck littered with bites, bruised hips. and limp legs. A shiny layer of sweat covering your spent body, a faint tremble in your core, puffy cheeks and pleading eyes.

On his lap, where you belong. Full of his cum, like you should be. Arms still hugging him, still clinging the very mean alien who's done nothing but degarde you for the last hours as he bullied his cocks into you.

Not everyone is born a fighter, that notion wasn't foreign to his cycle. You should stop getting in the way of actual warriors and learn your place instead, find your new life purpose in being his personal sex toy.

There were also the human crew memebers on the Tempest with you, those didn't interest him enough to observer. They weren't a threat; It's only normal for a human to fool around with another of their kind, and sex pets usually came coupled during his cycle.

He's not one for orgies or sharing, but as he pulled out of Ryder and watched you collapse onto his chest, his own cum leaking down your legs, the only thing Javik could think of was how perfect of an offering you'd be on Shepard's bed.

Naked and tied up in silk, the most beautifully wrapped present. A welcome back gift for the absent Commander. Until then, he'll make sure to use and train you everyday until you're properly prepared for your new role.

[sol-consort]

fuck it I'm impatient I'll post the Javik and Garrus parts now, you get the Wrex and hackett ones tomorrow or something idk they're half written

[sol-consort]

with the recent porn ban on multiple platforms having a ripple effect, think imma start exporting my small drabbles to AO3

[sol-consort]

I'm cooking something big people just you wait

[sol-consort]

Even after 20 years when humanity joined, I can say that the citadel races are NOT ready for old man pussy. It's simply too powerful😔🙏

but you know who is ready?

I am

I am ready

GIVE ME THE OLD MAN PUSSY

[sol-consort]

Wouldn't it be lowkey funny if human cum was delicious to the other races? Like they be getting a little too addicted to it

like drell cum is to us?

[sol-consort]

Wanna know a fun fact? NASA, like THE NASA said that monsterfuckers should behave themselves when meeting aliens. Because of good impressions.

Not making this shit up btw, they deadass said that they don't want monsterfuckers meeting aliens first.

Imagine how different the first contact with the turians would have been

apparently that fifth wisdom tooth (or any more than 4) track to a hereditary Neanderthal genetic trait that flares up in people sometimes. Meaning, being an inter-species fucker is EMBEDDED in my genes, if my great⁸ grandpa saw it fit to get down and dirty with other species of humans then how does NASA expect me not to welcome the aliens with open (legs) arms???? IT'S MY NATURE IT'S IN MY BLOOD! I AM WHO I AM!

As if those aliens themselves don't have their own groups of monsterfuckers. Every pot has its lid. It's an equilibrium that needs to find a blanace through extremes! Our interspecies relationship will never prosper unless we get into bed with each other! trust me bro!

The first contact war wouldn't have been much different because the reality is that we're all alien fuckers deep down. You'd be surprised at the huge overlap in the venn diagram of people who want to fuck aliens, people who want to study aliens, and signing up for a galactic job military or else.

In fact, I think NASA wants to keep all the aliens to themselves, they want to hog all the extraterrestrial pussy! It's why they're pretending some lovey dovey with aliens would spring the end of the world. They cannot stop us all!

[sol-consort]

I just KNOW that Turians like Garrus and the pervy roommate look at your ass and mourn the fact that they can't devour it. No safe way to get pussydrunk, to milk that cock, to bury their face between your soft human cheeks. Smh

for the proud turian, it is one of life's greatest trials, a burden they must shoulder, a strife that knows no other: the knowledge of how downright sinfully delicious human cum can be—the thought of eating you out alone leaves them weak in the knees, salivating an embarrassing amount. While the act itself pushes them to their limit, requiring all of their will and discipline to not finish on the spot. Some of them do, coming undone, untouched. Cum shamefully staining the pants they have yet to take off, how they rushed to bury their head between your thighs first thing after the door closed.

But the shame isn't enough to pry them off you, eager tongue lapping up your leaking cock, large enough to wrap around the head and squeeze. Or it could be buried deep down your cunt instead until you felt their teeth press flush against your pussy. The human skin is a bare canvas, an open buffet practically begging them to mark and litter in bites. How for one second they're on top of the world, your cum going down their throat sends an electrifying pleasure shooting up their spine, submerging their brain in a soup of feel-good chemicals

and how it can send them to the ER the next

[sol-consort]

From what I have gathered, no other species has hair like humans, except for Quarians but like.....we cant see it, so currently humans are the only ones that have it on display. Surely the races are curious about our hair? Do they get the urge to pet it? To play with it? Maybe put it on pretty styles.

And it's so diverse. Every human wears their hair different. Some have it in bright colors, others shave it short, some put trinkets in it, few have it long and flowing.

A light breeze can make a long haired human look a little majestic. It even shields us against our sun.

yeah I talked about in details before it's a very cool concept

[sol-consort]

The big question remains tho, would your knight self beat the shit out of Kai Leng?

my knight self never met Kai Leng and didn't make it into the third game due to budget cuts and firing the writer who originally drafted my character (right before christmas too). And whatever cameo I had in the DLC felt sterile and devoid of the natural charm my character was known for due to the abrupt change of writers and me being a last minute addition to the DLC

BUTTTTTTTT It'd probably go like "oh my god sword comrade! let's be friends" *I get stabbed* "That wasn't even homoerotic that's not how you wield a sword there's no honour o" *another stab* "okay. well. fuck you dude"

[sol-consort]

Lowkey if I'm being honest, my hoe ass could not live on the citadel or any advanced planetoid. Too many Buildings and constructs. I'd miss the trees, flowers and animals. A clear view of the moon and stars with wind and rustling leaves.

Eden prime, or even Virmine would be more up my alley. Shepard and the gang would most likely encounter me near the woods.

The fake sky footage on the LCD screen looking over is what gets me the most. Banal and dystopian. Couldn't even shill out for an OLED one, that's how much the Citadel values its people.

If you're someone used to nature and clear starry nights then yeah I see where you're coming from, although for the inner city dwellers seeing anything in the night sky besides the moon is a miracle of its own—at least in my personal experienc. No matter how hard I looked, only the North Star is somewhat visible on a good night. The constrained nature and small decorative trees sprinkled inbetween car lanes in an uncanny orderly way that ignores the chaotic and asymmetrical design of natural forests are just the norm.

Just like how the sky used to have more stars and the berry bushes and plants used to bloom more vibrantly a couple centuries ago, the humans living at the time had the same thought as you, that they could never give this up. But the thing is, they didn't have to, just like you don't have to. When we say humans are adaptable, we mostly mean how each generation accepts life at face value, how easily our kids become accustomed to the deteriorated state of the world as it is. When the skyscrapers, polluted air, and starless nights are all that you've known since birth, then you wouldn't care for say a lush forest and a real sky? Can never miss what you never had. The more generations are born in a cave, the more the shadows become another fact of life.

That's probably how the humans on the Citadel acclimated to the dull suffocating life on the Citadel: they didn't. They just stayed there long enough to have kids (or raise their kids) and those kids had kids and by the fourth generation most Citadel humans couldn't tell you the Earth's sun colour or the smell of rain. Some of them even began to refer to Earth as Terra rather than Earth. Because Terra is what you find in wiki pages and eductional vids. Because Terra is how the Citadel council refers to Earth during their meetings when discussing terrestrial matters.

Each generation is a cultural reset, it's why heritage and passing down knowledge is so important. But books, videos, and bedtime stories can only do so much; you can read a thousand books on how vibrant red is, memorise all the adjective and feelings associated with it, know its wavelength by heart and recognise it on any chart—but if you've never seen red, if you've never bitten into an apple, if you've never gotten a papercut, then what's the point? It's all arbitrary to you, because you never experienced any of it, you've only heard about other people's experiences.

[sol-consort]

A SURPRISE WISDOM TOOTH? A FUCKING SURPRISE WISDOM TOOTH? I GO IN FOR THE LAST APPOINTMENT OF A ROOT FILLING AND FIND OUT THAT I HAD A FIFTH FUCKING WISDOM TOOTH HIDDEN IN THE PROVERBIAL GUM NOOK??!! ALL THE PAIN I'VE BEEN COMPLAINING ABOUT WAS FROM THIS LITTLE SHIT AND NOT THE GHOST OF MY LATE ROOT NERVE?