#(Yeah no problem! It's completely cool! ^^)

[rafesteddy]

+18 -> smut | Intro to this pairing. After Rafe throws you under the bus with his coach, you decide it’s time to put him in his place.

.ᐟ updated, edited, + reuploaded because it got deleted and it’s one of my faves ☹

𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓮𝓗𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝔂!𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝓐𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓻!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: public teasing, masturbation mentioned, bully!rafe x bully!reader, dom!female x sub!rafe, humiliation, begging (rafey on his knees), pet names, name calling, gaslighting, degradation, praise kink, begging, slapping, suggestive photos, public handjob (over the jeans in a library) + cum tasting.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

I knew I was screwed the second I walked into Coach’s office. The way he was sitting—arms crossed, jaw tight—that look usually came before a sharp whistle and a no-pucks practice. But today wasn’t about my performance on the ice. No, this was about the damn accounting test I’d bombed. Again.

And sitting beside me, looking as composed as ever, was her. My tutor. My painfully bright, always-on-time, way-too-fuckin’-hot-for-her-own-good tutor.

She was brilliant. And yeah, okay—maybe I had a massive, inconvenient, completely unrequited crush on her. But I was also failing and now we were both in deep shit.

“Rafe.” Coach’s voice was low and controlled making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “This is your third failed test. And it’s not just embarrassing for you—it’s embarrassing for this program.”

“I know, Coach—”

“Then why the hell am I sittin’ here havin’ this conversation? You have a tutor. A good one. One who’s never had a student fail like this. So what’s the problem?”

I glanced at her… That stiff posture, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked ready to fight, but she wouldn’t. She never lost her cool.

Coach sighed, turning to her. “I don’t get it. You’ve got a perfect track record with these boys. My players always pass. But now, suddenly, Rafe’s grades are tanking. What changed?”

She cleared her throat, sitting straighter. “Nothing, sir. I’ve been doing my job. I promise—”

“Then why isn’t it working?”

There was a beat of silence between us as she shot me a side-eye, clearly wanting me to take the hit. Not a chance.

“Maybe she’s not tryin’ like she used to.” The second it left my mouth, I knew I messed up. Didn’t even have to look—could feel her glare, hot and sharp, cutting straight through me.

Coach exhaled sharply. “Well, Cameron, if she’s not into this, maybe we should find you a new tutor.”

My stomach dropped; I shifted in my seat suddenly uncomfortable—but I kept my face neutral. I didn’t want a new tutor. Not because I actually cared about passing accounting but because I liked sitting next to her during those torturous sessions. I liked the way she barely tolerated my jokes. Liked bein’ around her. I wasn’t about to admit any of that though.

“M’sure she’ll do better.”

Her anger was thick in the air, festering from the seat beside me.

Coach let out a sigh and rubbed at his temple, already over it.

“Fine. The accounting professor is letting you redo the test. This is your last chance to prove yourself as a tutor, m’kay? If he fails again you’re done.”

She nodded fast, lips pressed into a firm line. “Understood, sir.”

Coach dismissed us and the second we stepped into the hallway and the door clicked shut—Whack.

My head snapped to the side as the sting of her palm seared across my cheek. She slapped me.

She smacked the hell out of me in the middle of the athletic department hallway… And God help me, I had never been more turned on in my life.

I stared at her—chest puffing, cheek burning in the best way. She was fuming, her eyes ablaze, breath short and tight.

“Are you kidding me, Rafe?” She hissed. “You’re failing because of you. Because you don’t fucking care. And you sat there and threw me under the bus? In front of Coach? You’re a fuckin’ pussy.”

I licked my lips, heart hammering. “Yeah,” I murmured. “That was pretty messed up.”

Her eyes narrowed, clearly unamused. “Messed up? Rafe, I need this job. And if you fail that test again I’m screwed.”

I rocked back and forth on my heels feeling butterflies swirl in my stomach at the threat alone. “You’ll just have to make sure I pass.”

She made this annoyed sound, cut and breathy as her hands curled into fists. I didn’t mean to smile but it happened anyway. And she moved forward, fast enough to make me flinch.

I looked down at her and chuckled. Fuck, she’s cute when she’s mad… And hot. Stupid hot.

“Fuck you,” she snapped. I lowered my bag, trying to hide the hard-on, tenting my sweats. “Library. One PM.”

I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth before turning my attention back to her. “Yes, ma’am.”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆. Later that day…

Reader’s POV 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

Fuck…

You’d never hit anyone before. But the moment he threw you under the bus in Coach’s office—like you hadn’t been bending over backward trying to drag his sorry-ass GPA above a D—something in you snapped.

And now you were doing something just as impulsive: marching up to the damn hockey house at 1:30 because he stood you up.

After all that… Rafe Cameron dared to try you.

You climbed the stairs, the heavy scent of Dior Sauvage and sweaty hockey equipment already leaking from under the door. The second you knocked, JJ answered.

He leaned against the doorframe, all smug grin and wet muscles. His towel hung loose around his neck. Just sweats and slides—nothing else. And he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Well, shit,” he drawled. “How are you, tutor girl?”

“Good,” you smiled, stepping inside, feeling his eyes rake over you.

“Rafe’s upstairs, sunshine. You better not slap him again,” he laughed, half-teasing, half-genuinely impressed. “You’re never gonna get rid of him.”

“—Hey, sweetheart,” Kelce met you at the steps, before you could even process the embarrassment of Rafe telling JJ.

You sighed and smiled, stepping past him on your way up. “Rafe missed our session. Again.”

“Figures,” he said through a yawn. “Are we surprised?”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling tiredly. “Nothing surprises me with him.”

“You comin’ to the game tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” he called over his shoulder. “We play better when you’re watchin’.”

He shot you a wink and you couldn’t help the breathy laugh that slipped out.

You kept moving, steps feather-light on the worn floorboards, heart picking up speed with every one.

Music was playing low inside of Rafe’s room, just loud enough to hear under the door if you were listening. You knocked twice. No answer. That anger from earlier started to swell again.

Creak.

The old floorboards shifted. He was definitely in there.

“Rafe,” you snapped. “I know you’re in there. You missed your session, and this is fuckin’ important, Okay? Enough of your bullshit. I’m coming in.”

You gave him one final second, then twisted the handle and opened the door. Nothing. Then you heard it. Soft and breathless. Not just whispered—but whined.

The room was dim, the curtains mostly drawn. You stepped forward, slow, trying to process what you’d just heard. Then, your name again. Quieter this time, but unmistakable. And just as clear—those deep, needy moans.

Your fingers hovered barely brushing the edge of the half-open door.

His voice slipped out—low and rough—like he really thought you were in there with him.

“Fuck, bunny. Always lookin’ at me like that… You don’t even know what you do to me…”

Your lips parted, heart stuttering as the sounds bled through, wet and messy, no mistaking what Rafe was doing.

His voice was thick and shaky; unmistakably close.

“Gonna bend you over, pretty… This perfect fuckin’ ass… This fuckin’ pussy… All mine, yeah? Mmphh… I know it is. Good fuckin’ girl…”

Whack.

You slapped your palm hard against the door. The second it hit, the whole energy shifted.

Rafe sucked in this sharp breath—fast and panicked.

“What the hell?” His voice was weak—defensive in a way you’d never heard before. And you couldn’t help it but smiled. Because Rafe Cameron—cocky, insufferable, wildly infuriating Rafe Cameron—was just jerking off to you. Confirmed. No more guessing. No more wondering. And maybe, just maybe, you loved it.

Rafe’s POV 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

“Fuck…” I rolled out my neck and took a deep breath. She was so angry. So righteous. So fuckin’ sexy. And I was losing my mind about it. Leaning forward I pressed my forehead to the door. “I know why you’re here. An apology? You want an apology from me…” I mumbled. “I deserved it alright?” I muttered under my breath. “Satisfied? Is that why you’re barging into my room? That fuckin’ slap in the hall… I needed that, okay.”

“What were you doin’?” Her voice was soft and innocent—almost sweet. A voice I’d rarely heard her use because why the hell would she. But it hit like a gut punch because laced in that tone was her way of saying: I heard everything. Blood drained from my face so fast I felt dizzy, and I knew there was no comin’ back from this. “May I?” She cooed.

I didn’t even think—just mumbled, “Yeah,” under my breath. Weak and defensive. Like a guy who’d just been caught doin’ precisely what I was doin’.

The handle twisted. The door creaked open. She stepped inside and smiled at me like this wasn’t the most humiliating moment of my entire fuckin’ life.

But my eyes couldn’t help but drop—her mouth first, slick and shiny—then lower. That shirt, those jeans… clinging in all the right places.

She looked good. Way too good. Lit up, soft, hot in that effortless way that always fucked with me. Hell, she’s the reason why I’m doin’ bad. These shit grades are her fault. Not mine. How am I expected to think? How am I supposed to act with a tutor like her? I swear she enters the room and the Porn Hub intro plays. What you gonna tell me ‘I’ve been a bad, bad boy?’ That you ‘need be to stay after class’ so you can spank me with a ruler. It’s a setup. It’s fuckin’ asinine.

I dragged my tongue across my lips without thinking. Felt the heat creep up, settling under my skin like she’d thrown a match on it.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, too fast. Voice rough, sharper than I meant. “What—making house calls now? Gonna start poppin’ in every time one of your screw-up athletes misses a session?”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She just smiled again and stepped closer. The second she did, so did I, drawn to her like a goddamn magnet. My breath caught. She stayed quiet and I couldn’t take the silence. I just waited there, crawling out of my skin.

“Say somethin’,” I huffed, impatient and nothing short of pathetic. “Please.”

“Do you wanna tell me what you were doin’ in here… or do you want me to guess?”

My whole body locked up. Cheeks burning. Skin on fire. Shame and heat colliding. I’d never blushed harder in my life. “Tell me,” I whispered. And I hated how needy it sounded. I didn’t even know what I was askin’ for. Maybe I did. I just wanted to hear her say it... I wanted the words from her mouth.

She looked up at me, that same maddening smile tugging at her pout. She was gonna to make me suffer for it. “Hmm… You want me to say it? Okay—” She leaned in slightly, chin tilted, voice just this side of mocking. “You were in here,” she said slowly, voice dripping with condescension, “moaning my name with your hand wrapped around your cock, thinking about how I slapped you. How I put you in your place.”

Every word struck like a fuckin’ blow: hot, sharp, and precise. She tilted her head in judgement, eyes studying me with slow, deliberate amusement. Then her lips curled as she delivered another strike. “You really couldn’t help yourself, huh Rafe?” She murmured. “All that discipline on the ice and none of it where it counts. You’re just a pathetic, horny mess in the bathroom fisting it over a girl who slapped the shit out of you.”

I moved before I could think. Surged forward. But she stepped back with a laugh, dodging my kiss easily before she walked deeper into my room.

“What the hell was that?” She asked, looking over her shoulder, brow arched in disgust like the idea of me touching her was laughable and unfathomable. “Seriously, Rafe? After today? Tsk. Tsk. After that?”

It was cruel. It was perfect. She was baiting me—dangling herself just out of reach, pretending I was the one crossing a line when she was the one playing the game like a fuckin’ pro. It made me want her more. My voice cracked as I followed her. “You want me to beg?” I asked, my voice stuttering in my throat. “I’ll do it. I will.”

She turned slowly, smiling like she’d been craving those words. “Oh,” she said sweetly. “I think that’s a good start, Cameron.”

“C’mon… Please.”

She laughed; her arms folded as she looked me up and down again, like I was her toy she was deciding whether to play with or throw away. “Unless there’s a puck and a stick, you really don’t give a single fuck, do you?” Her smile darkened. “I heard you in the bathroom, Rafe. I heard how desperate you can be. Fucking beg.”

And as soon as those beautiful, brutal words left her mouth, I dropped. Hit my knees right there on the cold hardwood, chest heaving, lungs tight. She looked down at me with that glint in her eye—like I looked down at her in the hallway when I had the upper hand; like she didn’t know whether to kiss me or destroy me. And fuck, I wanted both.

“Please,” I breathed, voice trembling and weak. “I’m sorry… for everything. I didn’t mean to be such an asshole, I just—shit, I don’t even know alright? I can’t think straight around you. You’re smart, and so fucking pretty, and I’m just—I’m… I’m a mess. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want you.”

My hands found her thighs and stayed there. I looked up at her, eyes begging, like maybe that would get me what I needed. And like some miracle she was starting to melt. I could feel it. I leaned in, crawling a little closer.

“Tell me what to do,” I begged again. “Make me earn it. I’ll do a good job for you, I swear. I’ll tell Coach what’s goin’ on… I’ll take the hit I should’ve taken from the start. You can trust me. I just wanna make you feel good. I want to apologize—”

“Meet me at the library at seven,” she cut me off, cool and final, brushing my hands off her thighs with a touch that shattered something inside me. “Don’t be late, Cameron.”

“Wait—” I rushed out as I scrambled to my feet. My voice broke as I reached for her snatching her wrist before she could walk away. “You’re—Shit. Uh… You’re leaving? Why? Don’t go. Please. Just—Just stay. You wanna stay, don’t you? C’mon…”

“Calm down, Rafe…” She purred. “If you’re that desperate, you can finish what you were doin’ in the bathroom… Like a good boy.”

Oh shit.

And just like that, she walked out… leaving me hard, flushed, and aching.

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆. Later that day…

I showed up at 6:30, Thirty minutes early—with flowers in hand. Not just any flowers, either. Romantic shit. Her favorite color in a desperate attempt to score a few points. The kind that said ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I want you’ all at once. Or at least that’s what JJ said. I don’t fuckin’ know. I was panicking.

I’d actually put on an outfit: a button-up that wasn’t wrinkled or my gameday attire. No sweats, no hoodie. She’d once complimented my clothes—some random day when I had a meeting and wore something halfway decent. But it stuck with me. For weeks. And the pièce de résistance, the final piece of the ��let me hit” puzzle, a backwards hat. I ran my shaky hands through my hair, brushed it back before tugging it on.

Now I was posted up at the table, pretending to read, eyes glued to the entrance like I had no other purpose. That same tight buzz had been crawling up my spine since I sat down. And then she walked in.

Little skirt swaying with every step, catching the lazy breeze from that busted AC unit overhead. Her hair shifted across her shoulder as she walked, phone in hand as her thumb slid over the screen, lip caught between her teeth while she read whatever was on it. My jaw tightened. Jealousy hit hard and fast—who the hell was she texting? I didn’t even have a right to care, and still I did… I cared a lot. Fuck, was I in trouble.

She dropped in the chair beside me like she owned the space, didn’t even glance up. Just set her water down, popped the lid, took a slow sip from the straw—and all I could think about was her mouth. Her lips, pink and soft and wrapped around plastic. And what they’d feel like on me.

“So,” she said, voice casual as anything, dragging a notebook from her bag, “after that meeting in Coach’s office, we’ve got work to do.”

Not an ounce of acknowledgment. Nothing about the slap. Nothing about the bathroom. Nothing about the begging or about her telling me to finish in the sink like a ‘good boy’. And, I did… I wanted to tell her. The fuck is she not askin’ me for? I blinked at her, caught completely off guard. “Wait, seriously?”

“What?” She asked, brows raised, perfectly innocent.

My heart stuttered. Was she gaslighting me? Fuck, she was. I pawed at my jeans feeling myself already getting hard at the idea of it. “I just wanna say I’m sorry.”

“Pretty flowers,” she murmured. “No apology needed. Hockey season is stressful; high stakes, you know? And, thank you for these… Water under the bridge.”

I couldn’t help it, my voice dropped, quiet like I wasn’t even sure what happened anymore. “When you stopped by my place earlier—”

“Stopped by?” Her head snapped in my direction. That same slow, devastating smile spread across her lips. “Wow,” she said with actual surprise in her eyes, “that doesn’t really sound like somethin’ I’d do.”

I just looked at her. Couldn’t even speak. Too far gone.

I let out this soft laugh, tried to play it off. “Yeah, you did,” I said, watching her. Watching everything. “You stopped by and asked ‘why I didn’t show up for our session’.”

Her expression changed. That teasing sparkle flashed behind her eyes. But her voice dropped—sharp and precise. “Well,” she said instantly, “I don’t make house calls, Rafe.”

My eyes widened as she threw my own words back at me, twisting the knife. God, she was good.

I leaned in a little, feeling the heat of her radiate off her perfect body. “You told me to meet you here at seven. How else would I know if you didn’t tell me, huh?”

She blew out a little raspberry and twirled her fluffy pen between her fingers. “That is a mystery,” she said, with just enough bite to let me know I was being fucked with. “But good on you, Rafe. You showed up like a…”

She stopped and stared at me as my heart thudded, sweat gathering at my hairline. My brain lagged as if I didn’t know exactly what she wanted.

She knew I knew. It tumbled out before I could stop it.

“…A good boy.”

Her head snapped toward me again with a look of disgust, lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh. “Well, I was gonna say good student,” she mocked. “Jesus fuck, Rafe. Calm down.” And I swore my brain short-circuited trying to survive this. “So,” she said with a bright, innocent smile, “accounting?”

She reached into her backpack, moving forward with the session like nothing had happened; like I hadn’t begged her on my knees this afternoon, like she hadn’t ruined my ability to think about anything but her.

She slid one of the books across the table to me and tapped her pen a few times. The sound echoed sharp in the quiet library.

She crossed her legs, letting her skirt ride up just enough to kill my last two brain cells. She leaned forward and flicked on the table lamp. Her tits shifted under her shirt leaving me throwing my head back, staring at the ceiling like it could save me.

“Page 99,” she said casually as she gestured to the book in front of me. I looked down at the textbook—the weathered cover. The word Accounting staring back at me. I grabbed the lid, fumbling with the book. I tried to breathe like a normal fuckin’ human—and flipped it open. Then I stopped.

Dead.

My heart slammed against my ribs because a Polaroid sat between the pages. Her. In my hockey jersey. Nothing on underneath. Sprawled across, what I could only dream was her bed—her hair was perfection, lips parted, one hand curled in the hem of the jersey like she was seconds away from showing me more.

I forgot how to blink; how to breathe, how to act— “Woah. Wait. Hey—”

“Well,” she cut off my panic as she reached over to pluck the photo from the pages. She slipped it back into her bag like it was just some used sticky note, “how did that get in there?”

I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. Because all I could think about was the damage I’d do to that picture. How I’d do absolutely anything to see that shit again. So I did the only thing I could do. I sat there like a good student. I barely breathed—I just followed her lead, turned the pages when she told me to and scribbled down notes willingly for the first time in three and a half years here, feeding off her praise like it was air. I couldn’t get enough…

I watched her closely, soaking in every detail. How her eyes lit up when she explained something. How her lips moved when she mouthed equations under her breath. How her ankle swung where her legs were crossed, skirt barely covering her thighs.

And it wasn’t just about how hot she was or how she looked in that picture that was now burned into my brain—it was everything. I could see her being mine. I could picture her in the stands, wearing my name, making her proud every fuckin’ night. I could imagine her in my bed. In my life. My everything. The hell is happening to me?

I was mid-sentence, trying to get through something I barely understood when my voice caught. I tripped over the words, not ‘cause it was hard or anything, but because her fingers just brushed my thigh.

She walked them slowly over the denim of my jeans, right to the inside of my leg, making my heart race and my head spin. I tried to pretend I was okay. That I wasn’t seconds away from falling apart. I adjusted in my chair, but it was useless. Her hand moved higher.

My jaw tightened as she traced the seam of my jeans—light and teasing.

She was pretending to read one of my notes like she wasn’t currently turning me into a fucking mess.

Then she went further. Her hand landed on my thigh—a firm squeeze. “Good job,” she said, soft like she meant it .

I groaned—couldn’t help it. Her hand was on me pressing right over my dick.

I tensed my thighs fighting the urge to grind up into her hand like I had no self-control; like some sex-crazed slut. She just kept touching me—slow and calm—completely unfazed. My dick pressed so hard against the zipper it stung.

I glanced down at the textbook and tried to read just one word. Nothing landed. I bit the inside of my cheek just to stay quiet as my mind went hazy. My head fell back, eyes shut tight, trying not to give in and get as greedy as I wanted to.

She didn’t stop. Just kept going.

I shifted, fingers digging into the table. My thighs shook; my stomach coiled tight. And every single nerve in me was lit up, burning hot, dangerously close to a public fuckin’ finish.

“So… what’s your final answer for number six?” She asked.

I could barely remember my own name let alone equations. “A—A hundred and fuuuck,” I stammered, my tone nothing short of pathetic. “A hundred and five.”

She grinned, eyes flicking to my face. “Good choice… Good fuckin’ boy.” I flicked off my hat and ran a hand through my hair; forehead damp with sweat, trying to hold off the inevitable but I couldn’t take it anymore. My orgasm hit me so hard I saw white.

I reached down and grabbed her wrist tight under the table as I came in my jeans—hot and heavy—every pulse dragging a deep, broken breath from my lungs. My head bowed between my tense shoulders. My mouth stayed open, panting, still locked in her grasp.

She didn’t move. Let me ride it out. She brushed her fingers over the wet patch on my thigh, smearing it cruelly, making me shutter out a breath. She pulled her hand back, eyes still on me, and slid her fingers into her mouth. Took her time. My hands curled tight; jaw clenched hard. My cock twitched, still aching in the mess she left behind.

Then she reached over and closed the book, putting a pin in it. “Good job tonight,” she said casually, standing, her smile warm. I couldn’t catch my breath. My hands were still locked around the edge of the table and the second she was out of sight I scrambled for my phone with shaking hands; buzzing before I could even unlock it.

Tutor Girl: My place. 10 PM. Don’t be late.

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆. Later that night…

I moved out of my car, adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was 9:57… I wasn’t about to be late.

I jogged to the door of the college house and knocked once—sharp and quick.

One of her roommates answered, giving me an uncertain smile.

“Hi,” she said hesitantly.

“Hockey tutor’s house, yeah? Can I—Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, slightly confused. “She went to bed an hour ago—”

“She’s expecting me,” I cut her off before she could even finish. Sleepin, huh? Damn, she was fuckin’ with me. Again. And fuck… she was perfect. “Up the hall, to the left?” I asked, already stepping inside.

She nodded, and I was already moving, taking the stairs fast. My heart was in my throat by the time I hit the landing. Her door was closed. Light leaking from underneath like it was waiting on me.

I knocked once. Then, I pressed my ear to the wood.

Silence.

Then I heard it. “Fuck, Rafe…” She whimpered. My cock twitched instantly at the sound. It was soft and desperate. Like she’d been waiting all day to say it.

“Just like that—” Her voice came through the door and I couldn’t stop myself. I pushed it open and everything in me stopped.

She was right there in the center of her bed. Skin flushed, glowing. Lips parted. Eyes shut. That same little smile tugging at her mouth, wearing my jersey—the same one from the picture. Like a fantasy come to life.

Her fingers were deep in her cunt, head lolled back against the pillow, breathing slow and shaky as she moved.

Then her eyes opened and locked on mine. She’d been waiting for me to see. She’d planned it this way. She wanted me to catch her. And she needed me to be the one to finish it.

It’s a reupload but I think it fits @zyafics campaign 💛

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[laserbobcat]

Soap box moment but bad world building triggers me, I'm annoying like that.

No shade to people who like these tropes as is, I don't want to shit on your porn with plot, and I believe in well tagged free from judgment content. Policing what people draw or write is step 1 to puritanism and other pleasantries like whole works getting deleted and all lgbt content being bagged in with all that. Fiction is a great way to explore and get things out of your system, and the line between what's acceptable and what's not is too easy to move further and further until it's only squeaky clean right wing approved content. Just don't interact with people you think are weirdos that you don't agree with and keep moving. They're just writing weird shit in their little corner, and you are someone's weirdo in your little corner, you wouldn't want people to barge in and shame you to stop because you're a problem to society. Don't create a line at all. Idk we have bigger problems, like all these motherfuckers who actively go out of their way to interact with as much people as possible and actually changing mentalities IRL with shit like "women should be in the kitchen and men can't help themselves and black people are always angry and the lgbt are annoying they're so out there, subscribe for more wisdom"

ANYWAY

Talking about furry sex and leshycat "lore" stuff :3 It's LONG, I'm way too talkative.

Heats: yeah that's all hot and fun, "Oh no shit happened and now we have to deal with the awkwardness. In my defense you jumped on me and I was a bit drunk. No I'm not angry at you. Idk, do you like movies, do you want to see Fast and Furious 27 with me friday?"

BUT LIKE if most of your characters work like that, your society should be entirely different. Ours work with our biology in mind, which is "Let's assume people are horny all the time and show naked women to sell yogurt" or "There's no such thing as "I couldn't help myself" go to jail" (in theory I mean, not talking about how society fails us you know)

Fun fact, I read LeGuin's book The Left Hand Of The Night before I was terminally online and learned the hilarious unholy existence of ABO and stuff, I'm already picky with worlbuilding and this one definitely upped my standards really high. It's a book about bringing a instantaneous communication technology to another planet, it's really cool. Love this series. People on this planet have the particularity of being sexless unless they're going through a heat cycle. It's very casual, it's just how people work. There's places you can go to get it out of your system and whole different social norms around that. The "Oops I'm stuck with someone while in heat that's embarrassing" thing is there too lol. There's no sexual scenes in it though. The hero is a regular human and it's interesting to see how the two protagonists see each other. Good, book, high recommend.

Love how I'm told ABO and these kind of animal instinct based work are either rough kinky porn with maybe plot, or super detailed commentary about society and the way we view sex, so funny. I like the furry tropes way more because there's no nonsensical anatomy and butt babies. Please no butt babies.

But while I like the chaos that SuperHornyForaWhile™ brings to relationships, I am extremely triggered by lack of consent. It's up to you to change whatever you don't like with tropes, I just make the whole thing softer by taking the "out of control" aspect out. Yes they are desperately horny but no they don't completely lose it. Someone in heat would feel like seeing your super hot coworker tits out "Well great, I'm gonna have to do all their work alone this week while they're at home AND I have a boner now. Fml."

Casual sex is way more common. Though there's a lot of social rules about carefully treading around this to make sure there's no pressure or regrets later. The power of communication. Almost everyone has some embarrassing stories to tell about the subject too, they come out when drunk and oversharing to make everyone laugh.

Maybe monogamy is thrown out the window more often than not "Oh my god I just want to netflix and chill, I don't have the energy for that today, go fuck the neighbor you have my blessing. Tell them to give me back my tupperware by the way."

Everyone has grandma tips and tricks to ease down the whole thing when you just want to wait it out. Most of those tips and tricks are hearsay bullshit, but everyone knows the ones that legit work. Some people don't experience heats at all. And they tend to change depending on age and mental and emotional state.

And like, it's fun to play with the differences between different animals and their perception of the world. Some of them know when there will be an earthquake, or what's the weather will be for the week. Some of them can tell what you ate yesterday by smell alone, and who you interacted with this morning. Again, social rules around that to respect people's privacy.

But the comedy potential. I mean I've seen a lot of it already and I'm never tired of it. "Why do you smell like you slept with that person you say you hate." "Why do you smell like they specifically rubbed on you possessively." "Are you ok? Do you want me to kill them? No?" chef's kiss. Poetic cinema.

Back to Morgan and Leshy

Morgan's well known to be 100% not interested in anything, people think he's legit aroace. Man's so repressed and emotionally unavailable that he's not even horny anymore these days, no more heats. It comes out as aggression, which he has to take out on random monsters in Darkwood. "Morgan's so brave and useful by going on missionary trips regularly" yeah no, he needs that to stay so sweet and polite the rest of the time. Thena teases that it would be easier and less dangerous to just jump someone from time to time and he DoesNotHear. I drew that here btw. Since Leshy's arrival, he gets a lot of steam out by punching each other on the regular. Despite the Denial™, feelings grow and the bottled up drives start to act out. He's incredibly confused about why his body started doing the whole cycle thing again. Very inconvenient, very annoying. No explanation for it whatsoever. Complete mystery. Now he's missing work days too, great.

Leshy has the strongest sense of smell of the whole cult, and did not get the memo about the whole social rules things. He doesn't really care what people do, but he does not really care about their feelings either. "Of course you're moody and nauseous, you're pregnant. What do you mean you didn't know, your scent changed two weeks ago. What do you mean I'm not supposed to say that out loud in front of everyone. What does invasive means, like the plants?" Animals with good sense of smell are very useful to doctors, since they detect a lot of things, but Leshy is the worst person imaginable in terms of communicating it. He finally learns to shut the fuck up though, and when he senses something weird he goes to snitch to the head healer Ilona. Some very perceptive people notice when he barges into the healing tent, talk to her for a while and leave, and then someone's called in for a "random health check up" and ends up with a treatment. Drew that here. Leshy 100% keeps tracks of what his brother is doing and absolutely makes fun of him whenever he smells a bit too much like "The annoying lamb and their annoying spouses." He notices when his brother isolates himself (Ew disgusting, brothers can't have hormones) and he absolutely knows what happened when he eventually comes back to society very relaxed, and still smelling like the trio under all the soap he used to try and hide it. "Woah finally, I hope they weren't too disappointed, I mean it's not like you would be enough for one person, imagine three lol" and there goes the fighting. Cain instinct. Now, about Morgan. There's no denial from Leshy at all, he's been down bad for the cat almost from the beginning. The dumb factor here is "I will not make a move, like, ever" because what if Morgan doesn't want him around anymore, like when he breaks something, but permanently. The horror. It's not that bad since they spend a lot of time together and he doesn't want to date anybody, so at least Leshy doesn't have to kill anyone. Great news. Except that one time when this cute stoat hit on the cat and gave him a hug and was a bit difficult to get rid of, and Leshy had to tackle and wrestle him until the scent was gone. He got his ass kicked but it was worth it, and it's not like he's not asking for it anyway. (I need to draw that) Morgan in heat is HELL. Absolutely impossible to ignore. He has to keep constantly busy/distracted the whole time to resist just knocking on his door -or knocking the door down really. The angel vs demon war in his head is particularly funny because they both argue for and against making a move alternatively but for different reasons. The sanity is gone. Burrowing 20 feet underground and breaking rocks down with his teeth helps.

That was long I talk too much.

[masterbuilderintern]

morro in the nostalgia au seems so cool... please share more!!

Oh boy to talk about Morro, I have to talk about Wu

This is going to be really disjointed and clumsy sorry my brain is a bit fogged up right now lmao

See, Wu is still very flawed in Nostalgia. But a lot of things the ninja deal with aren't a result of him leaving out information anymore; he's just as clueless about a lot of things. Has to come to terms with the Overlord being his dad's fault, there's no way he could've foreseen Rebooted, doesn't know who Chen is. Yeah he was aware of Delara but there's no fucking way he could've known she'd bring herself back from the dead like that.

But Morro? Oh he knew about Morro

What Wu did to Morro is exactly what his father did to HIM. Morro was the first person Wu ever had under his wing completely independent of his father and he fucked it up just as bad as his dad fucked up with Garmadon

The pattern with the people Morro parallels is how those people managed to become better despite it all, because they had someone there to combat their negative behaviors

Garmadon and Wu had each other, Misako, and Lloyd

Kai and Nya had each other, and later on, the rest of the ninja

But Morro only had Wu, who was the one causing Morro to lash out in the first place. At the time, Wu's frame of reference was his dad, who criminalized negativity in any way, to the point of slandering the oni as this force of irredeemable darkness, to the point of attempting to cast out his own darkness, which created the Overlord, to the point of casting out one of his own sons

So Morro had a lot of pressure put on him. Obviously having a lot of trauma from being an orphan, that sort of thing has kids lashing out all the time. Telling that child that those emotions are EVIL and must be repressed is going to lead to MORE issues

I've worked in childcare you do not fucking tell a problem child they're a problem child it makes it worse it makes it soooo much worse I've almost thrown hands with children's parents over this sort of shit don't get me fucking STARTED

Without the green ninja plotline, Morro's story is more focused on the emotional issues between him and Wu. This kid needed a father but all he got was... Hm. Wu didn't get his act together until he found out about Morro's death

He's so careful with his current students. He still tries to settle their egos and impulsive behaviors, but it's got a lot less bite to it. To a bunch of teenagers, it might not feel like that, but they have no idea the version of Wu they could've been dealing with

Y'all know how a parent will totally fuck up the first child and it isn't until they're already grown up that they realize "hm maybe I shouldn't have done that" and do better with the next kid(s) but still kinda suck at it? That's Wu

Lloyd ends up with Morro's old room. He wasn't intended to have a green uniform, but found Morro's old stuff, and Wu cannot even begin to explain why that makes him uncomfortable

Lloyd is the one who builds Morro's memories back up, which lets him take form. So the two have actually been talking for a hot second. They got along, even! But Morro's attitude started to get worse over time, and with the shit Lloyd started to go through, so did his. It gets very noticeable after Garmadon dies.

To obtain a very important THING (don't worry about it yet) Morro needed Lloyd, a happy accident really, and honestly, if Lloyd had been more cooperative, he wouldn't have possessed him at all

But despite the attitude shift and growing dislike for Wu in particular, Lloyd wasn't going to help Morro 1. KILL Wu and 2. Obtain a Mysterious Object for a Mysterious Voice (the preeminent) because that's suspicious as hell

Morro heavily benefits from possessing Lloyd anyway, the ninja can't hurt him without hurting Lloyd and he knows they'd never do that, and Lloyd's powers still work when possessed, so Morro gets to use that enhancement ability to wipe the floor with the rest of the crew

Which is very much needed because Morro never discovered his true potential...

The Preeminent isn't outright controlling Morro though, more of a corrupting force. REALLY takes advantage of that desire for some kind of parental figure in his life that he never got. This is really important to keep in mind when I tell you that Morro died when he was 16. She tries to get Cole too when he becomes a ghost but fortunately, he has a family to distract him from that

[halfdeadwallfly]

[nereb-and-dungalef]

I keep drinking coffee thinking it's gonna make me Productive and then instead of doing the work I actually have to do I just compulsively make spreadsheets :(

[vaguely-concerned]

there's nothing quite like a dark souls game when you're really depressed. fromsoft places a hand on your shoulder and says "yeah no you're right. sometimes the whole world really is coming at you shrieking and flailing and trying to claw your face off and there is no hope in sight. what is left for us here but the deep sorrow of a magnificent beast doomed to a slow and possibly endless descent into ruin? here's a sword about it. go wild"

and then you stand there with tears in your eyes clutching your giant claymore to your chest like a lover and whisper "I. love my sword" and you do. you love that sword

[aeolianblues]

I'm not an extrovert. At all. In everyday life, I'm a yapper, sure, but I need someone to first assure me I am okay to yap, so I don't start conversations, even when I really want to join in sometimes! It's just the social anxiety acting up. God knows where from and why I lose a lot of my inhibitions when it comes to talking to people about music. I don't know where the confidence has suddenly sprung from. I've made a crazy amount of friends in musical circles, either just talking to people about common music or (since it is after all in music circles) talking to bands about their own music. I let out a sigh of relief any time an interaction goes well, because in truth it's going against my every instinct. I wish I could do that in everyday life

[torglives]

lukey confirmed that his keeper slash newt slash general lore is inspired by the maze runner and i genuinely felt a passion arise from within my heart that has been dormant for a couple years now. it hasn’t dominated by blog for a while so many may not know how deep this hyperfixation runs but you’re all about to be VERY aware.

[vlagg22]

Who created the controls for the flying machine 2.0 in brotherhood??? WHY IS IT MORE HARDER THAN THE LAST ONE!?? I swear to god it took me a whole two hours to completed it. I have to took around 30 retries and that's only for destroying the forts 😭😭

[highest-seas]

having to leave the house on this day of the year to go to work.... my enemy. i never hate to live here but on altweiber i lowkey do ngl

[chewablepebbles]

Sometimes it feels soooo weird not being depressed anymore

[natugood]

I’ve kept every single vial of T I’ve ever used, and when I have enough I want to make an outline of my body on some wood and glue all of the vials inside until my shape is filled

[chewy-toyz]

🛸

[windmillthatslikewindmilling]

what is all of this Lore in the scp interrupting the silly

[godfrey-the-chaos-duck]

@nerdalmighty I see your tags and I AGREE

GIVE US THE BEHIND THE SCENES RECORDING FOOTAGE DISNEY, YOU COWARDS!

Because David Tennant probably had the MOST fun doing all those things with his voice, from the low mutterings of utmost suspicion to high shrieks of abject horror

Oh the questions i would ask if i ever got to meet him...

Yes, of course I’m alive, you idiot.

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

Once at a party of a friend I got talking with this gal who's also in my class but with whom I have literally never exchanged a word before that and I got a bit bluntly honest the way I. do. sometimes. and went "btw ik we never really talked much and to be perfectly honest i never really felt the need to but you're actually super chill, i didn't expect that originally" and she responded something like "yeah same here, in a way. my friends always thought--not me, but like, by association i just kinda didn't talk to you though i never minded you actually--but they think you're really weird and sometimes said some stuff but you're actually pretty cool too"

and that might have been one of the most affirming conversations i've ever had. because like. they think i'm weird?? they talk about me sometimes?? i'm a weirdo?? i thought people were just, yk, aware of me, perhaps thought me a bit odd but didn't actually care either way/just ignored me the way i ignored them bc i just. don't care! you're telling me i'm actively strange and confusing and fuckin weird to them??? to the normal fashionable people?? WHOOOOOOOO!!!!