#Sexiled

[confettiart]

more shoots & ladders fanart teehee

[natsubeatsrock]

So I Read Sexiled: My Sexist Party Leader Kicked Me Out, So I Teamed Up With a Mythical Sorceress, and…

I need a minute.

These light novel titles are too long.

Isn't there supposed to be some complaint here?

"Oh great, here comes a rant on feminism being bad."

There we go! I don't think feminism is a problem.

"See, look! He just proved he's a raging... wait, what?"

My politics have taken shape throughout the years. I've had many different views on feminism. I went from really positive to really negative. Now, I'm somewhere in the middle. However, I've come to realize the problem isn't feminism.

The problem is people being idiots.

The problem isn't that people wish for equal treatment of women. There's still a need for that push, even as society has become more accepting of women in different positions. The fact that Caitlin Clark's success was considered newsworthy is crazy for sports. However, there are ways in which women should continue to push for equal treatment.

The real problem is that the stuff some feminists fight for doesn't help feminism. It's less about equal rights and more about power grabs.

I'll explain it as I talk about these books.

Do you know those stories where Lucy gets kicked off Team Natsu? The ones we all complain about being out of character and ridiculous? The ones I made a series ragging on years back?

Sexiled is that, but unironically.

That's not even a joke.

The team that the main character is part of kicks her out. She decides she wants to get revenge on them by beating the team leader in a fight. She teams up with an ancient magical being thought dead for centuries. The demon helps unlock her special powers. She learns she didn't have to wear revealing clothing while working with her old squad.

I wish I was making this up.

I didn't even think of this until recently. I've been preparing to write about fanfics. Then I figured I should talk about this for other reasons. It was while I was thinking of how to describe this story that I realized the parallels.

I don't want that to mean that this is a bad story. In fact, this story puts even the attempts to make sense of the tropes to shame. (Yes, including mine.) This is done by doing something no one writing Fairy Tail fan fiction can do. She created a world and characters built around the concept.

Here's what I learned while talking about those stories years ago. It's not just that the tropes behind these stories in fanfiction often don't make sense with these characters. The tropes don't make sense when connected together. For example, it makes no sense for Lucy to leave the guild if she still has friends willing to associate with her. Better yet, it makes no sense for Lucy to stay on Team Natsu if she's being ignored by its members.

In Sexiled, it makes sense that Tanya wants revenge on her team. Their leader was always a sexist jerk. She was the only girl on the team. She had to work against every sexist system in place in her world to get where she was. She swallowed her pride to live a comfortable life and excel. Once it all amounted to nothing, she decided to resort to revenge against everyone.

She's not alone. Every member of her guild is, in some way, connected to a revenge story involving men or their sexist society screwing them over. My favorite example is a story involving a magic school in the first book. The gang uncovers a scandal involving weighing female applicants' scores worse than male applicants. The idea is to get less women into the school than men.

"Okay, that's ridiculous."

Look at that. It's a different hypothetical dissenting voice from the one I usually use. (I say as if I don't control either voice.) I'll bite. What's your point?

"There's no way something like that would happen in real life. If anything, schools would do the opposite to get more women in their schools."

It wouldn't shock me if that wasn't the case somewhere. There was that Supreme Court case involving Asian-American and White applicants facing discrimination at top universities in the States. I wouldn't put it past some school to be doing that for women.

There's just one problem.

This scenario actually did happen. The author based that incident on a real-life story of a school in Japan doing just that. They were found to grade female applicants harsher than male applicants. That was an inspiration for the entire series.

There is a debate as to whether feminism has gone too far. Do we still need feminism with as much progress made in the past century and change? Or has the movement always been a mistake going against the natural state of women?

For the record, it's only recently that men and women were in "traditional roles." For most of human history, men and women worked alongside each other in different roles. It wasn't until urbanization and industrialization that men worked while women stayed home. As the economy changed, it became less viable for single-earning incomes from either gender. Most families have to have both parents working full-time jobs to support themselves.

I think that there is a need for feminism in some respects. Where there are antiquated and meaningless gender barriers, they ought to be broken down. In many cases, it's not if but when they'll be broken.

My worry is that the pushes for feminism aren't winning strategies.

"Do you mean they don't promote genuine feminist goals? Or they don't win people over to feminism?"

In many cases, yes.

For example, is the Marvel comics scene better for focusing on its female characters and genderswaps of original characters? In fact, many of the old fans of these series hate the new directions of beloved characters. They're not doing well attracting new people into these comics. While there are plenty of other reasons the comics industry is in dire straits, this isn't helping them.

Aside from the quality, this isn't as empowering as it seems. I'm hardly the first to mention this. However, it's not great that the best writers can do to create female characters is copy male characters. One would hope the House of Ideas could improve, especially given their storied history. My favorite Marvel heroine spent years as an ugly mess. My favorite Marvel character was recently killed off and replaced with a female counterpart not named Gwen Poole.

{A/N: Insert commentary on the "M-She-U" here after finishing everything to come out from Marvel Studios between Wandavision and Deadpool & Wolverine.}

Feminism is at its best when it addresses systems of female oppression wherever it's found. It's at its worst when it focuses on... anything else. That might sound like an indictment of feminism. Then again, I'm reminded of JonTron's exhaustive list of things he wouldn't want his surgeon to do: anything but his surgery.

One last thing to talk about.

Is this story a power fantasy? Kind of.

Again, this isn't an insult. It's just that the average mage in the universe isn't capable of anything Tanya could do. However, she starts the series capable of high-level spells with imprecise and silent incantations. It's hard to believe she'd be kicked off any team with these levels. Anyone with their heads screwed on properly would keep her on the team for her skills.

However, that's the point. The story is built around the idea that the vast majority of people are more concerned with propagating the patriarchy than common sense. Rational people don't let gender biases get in their way. These men are not such people. In that scenario, they say that having a capable female magic student would be unfair to the boys.

Bigotry isn't just evil because it unfairly judges people for things they can't control. It goes against basic logic. People will justify not using the most qualified people for a job or treating them with basic human dignity. The sooner we agree on that, the better our world will be.

[two-wizards-in-a-trench-coat]

[unlawfulchaos]

[Comms during a training exercise]

Mav: I'm dead inside.

Ice: Really?

Ice: Because I've been in there many times and-

Slider: OH MY GOD, STOP! THIS. IS. NOT. THE. MOMENT. OKAY? THIS IS NOT THE MOMENT

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 35

PREV

"Andrew, wake up." Andrew felt a hand on his shoulder and he lashed out as he always did. He found himself rocketing towards consciousness as he heard Neil's pained grunt. Panic lances through him as he realizes what he had hit instead of the intruder and he's glad they compromised when he and Neil had started to sleep in the same bed.

Andrew pulls Neil in closer to protect him even as Neil groans at the sudden jolting movement.

He needs to get-

"I already moved your secret pillow knife Andrew." The intruder says as Andrew's hand grasps at nothing. He has a second one but the intruder is now armed and Neil-

"Erik and the Hans Moretti Sword Box are the only combination of me, another guy, and blades being stabbed at me that I will accept. Now, wake up." The familiar sounding intruder says.

Andrew blinks awake.

Nicky's frowning face is staring down at him.

"I need to borrow the Maserati, or you need to drive me to Abby's house. Right now." Nicky says without a hint of the fear.

Or, at least, not fear of Andrew.

"What's wrong with Smith?" he asks holding out his hand for his pilfered knife as he rubs Neil's side where he had lashed out instinctively.

Nicky looks at him for a long moment before handing the knife back to Andrew, "There's...I just feel like something isn't right. I want to be there with him, I shouldn't have left him there." Nicky says.

Andrew didn't disagree.

FF had been relaxed and at ease, drinking the disgusting smoothie that Kevin had forced on him, and Andrew had noticed a hint of a smile on his friend's face.

Then that fuckface showed up and FF had looked worse than when Andrew had stabbed him. He still remembered the garbage that piece of shit had spewed and Andrew hated knowing things about his friend that his friend hadn't told him.

Hated that his brain could piece moments that made a horrible amount of sense now. FF staring at his car the first time before climbing in, how he had requested that Andrew focus on the road, Nicky looking at all of them exasperated "Smithy was going to walk back", and-

“See, you’re still upset over what that guy did. Why are you clinging to the last name of the guy that did this to you?” Fuckface asks from behind them, “He almost killed mom and you. He did kill our two-“

"Stop."

Andrew makes himself stop thinking about it. It wasn't something FF wanted to talk about.

"The keys are where I always put them." he says because he thinks if he gets out of bed he might go hunt fuckface for sport. The thought of seeing fuckface's well fucking face as he hits him with the Maserati is not a bad one.

"Thank you Andrew. Sorry Neil." Nicky says and Neil waves it off having mostly drifted back to sleep as Andrew had rubbed his back mindlessly.

Nicky leaves without another word. Andrew settled back into bed hand still mindlessly rubbing Neil's back. He closes his eyes. He thinks about how FF had looked at those two kids a few weeks back.

He'd looked like a good older brother.

He holds Neil tight, focuses on the feeling of his even breathing on his neck, and listens to Kevin's snoring to think about a monster consuming Daniel whole.

******

Sometimes Matt feels like he misses out on things with his friends. It didn't happen that often and he doesn't regret the Thanksgiving he spent with his Mom and Dan. Not a single atom regrets making hand turkeys with Dan or holding Dan and his Mom's bags during their Black Friday spree.

He still felt ice in his stomach when he heard that some of Nathan's men had come for Neil and that FF had gotten hurt. FF hadn't seemed overly bothered by the injury and Matt was looking forward to having the freshman as a roommate once he was fully cleared by Abby.

FF was a good kid and Matt had a hard time disliking someone who so obviously looked up to and liked his best friend. He'd told Dan about the 'Captain Neil' title and the two of them had just about died talking about how sweet they both found it.

Which is why he feels a certain kind of way when he finds out his Skype date with Dan had him miss out on a face that, based on what he heard from an incensed Aaron, was in desperate need of a punch.

"Where's Nicky?" Matt asks.

"He couldn't stop worrying about Smiths, he doesn't have Friday classes so he mentioned something about sticking with Smiths." Aaron explains over his oatmeal and Matt turns his head towards the wall they shared with Neil, Andrew, and Kevin's room as he hears the blender going. Aaron shovels the remainder of his oatmeal into his mouth, "I gotta go. I'll see you later." he says.

Matt waves his roommate off and wonders what the sudden rush was but it was hardly three minutes later that Kevin Day was bursting into their room without knocking. "Aaron, I need your-" Kevin stops gaze settling on Matt. "Where's Aaron?" he asks.

Matt looks at him, "He just left." he says. Kevin looks to the ceiling in obvious frustration, "Anything I can help with?" Matt asks while at the same time cursing himself for asking.

"Have you had breakfast?" Kevin asks immediately.

"Uh...no?" Matt says.

"Perfect. Drink this." Kevin says shoving a smoothie into Matt's hand. Matt looked at the blue-ish smoothie in his hands and then back up to Kevin. "You asked if there was anything you could help with. Tell me how that tastes." he points at the beverage and Matt recognizes the distinct smell of one of Kevin's health shakes.

"I don't want to do this." Matt says setting the smoothie to the side.

"I'm trying to improve the flavor." Kevin says, "It was brought to my attention that it isn't very...good tasting." Kevin adds sounding like the admission costs him something.

"Just now? You just figured out they taste like butt, just now?" Matt asks incredulously.

Kevin flushes, "Smiths drank it without complaint!" he exclaims.

"Yeah, 'cuz Smithster is nice! Also I think his face is just stuck like that." Matt says.

"There was no way I could have known they were gross!" Kevin argues.

"Kevin, most people TASTE the things they're giving to others." Matt points out and Kevin only grows redder.

"Are you going to help me improve the taste or not?!" Kevin demands pointing at the smoothie, "that's phase one right there." he points at the beverage.

Matt considers it, "This is to make these god awful smoothies taste better for Smithster?" he asks finally feeling like there was something he could offer his friend.

"Yes." Kevin says.

"And you can't just taste them yourself....because?" Matt asks.

"I need multiple datapoints, it can't just be me." Kevin answers immediately.

Matt rolls his eyes but he was not one to deny the scientific process, "Fine." he agrees and grabs the smoothie, "You said this was phase one of improving the flavor?" he asks.

"Yes." Kevin says.

Matt nods and brings the smoothie to his lips.

Bitter. Slimey. Why is it spicy? So Bitter. It's liquid how is it chalky?

He immediately spits it out, "Why does it taste like that?!" Matt demands immediately. "You said it was phase one?!" he hisses.

"That's the control. I needed your opinion on where I was starting." Kevin jerks his head to the side towards the entrance of Matt's dorm, "C'mon, we've got work to do." he says leaving the room without taking his godforsaken smoothie with him.

Matt looks to the ceiling like Kevin had earlier. Honestly, the world had been a darker place since Kevin had to take the required science course last year.

****** There was no singular more 'freshman' thing that FF had done, in Nicky's opinion, than the fact that the kid had early Friday classes. Nicky had gotten to Abby's place late and hadn't slept before, too caught up in a conversation with Aaron.

FF had been awake when he'd gotten to Abby's, staring blankly into the fridge and based on how cold his friend's pajamas were he couldn't help but wonder how long FF had been there. So he herded FF back to bed and FF had pressed his face into Nicky's shoulder and hadn't let go. So Nicky had crawled into bed after FF had nodded his consent.

Nicky had slept terribly.

Still, he woke up with FF's alarm. FF's gaze was about a thousand miles away but he got ready for his two early Friday classes robotically. Nicky shot a text to Aaron and Andrew to let them know that he'd stick with FF for the day to make sure that if Daniel showed up he wouldn't bother FF.

FF walked into a wall as he was texting. "Aw, bud." he says and sets him on a new course.

Andrew texted to tell him that Neil was going to talk with Wymack about not giving Daniel a chance.

He heard another thud, "Oh, Smith don't run into that." he hears Abby say worriedly.

Nicky puts his phone away.

Focus.

He gets FF through breakfast and through the walk to campus. He takes a seat next to FF in his Math class and ignores the narrowed eyes of the person who's usual seat he has obviously taken. He turns in FF's homework, pays attention, takes some notes, answers the clicker questions for FF, and guides him out and over towards his next class.

He sees Daniel being shown around campus by Jack.

He texts Aaron for back-up. The two of them manhandle FF across campus just in time for his Japanese class and Nicky and Aaron swear up and down that they are just there to look in on the class. Nicky hands the clicker off to Aaron since the future doctor's handwriting left a lot to be desired.

Eventually it was done and Nicky and Aaron had to maneuver FF through a truly STARTLING amount of people who wanted to 'have a word' with FF. Nicky remembers that kid from months back. 'The Adonis of the Foreign Language Department'

Eventually through a combination of Nicky's polite declinations, Aaron glowering, and FF walking into another wall they managed to escape the Foreign Language department of Palmetto State University.

"I think we deserve a treat." Nicky says, "Everyone who agrees raise your hand." he adds and raises his own hand before lifting FF's hand up and looking to see Aaron lift his own hand up.

"Are we sure he's okay in there?" Aaron asks waving a hand in front of FF's face as they made their way to an ice cream shop that had excellent waffle cones and was the place that sold FF's favorite triple berry milkshake.

"Yeah, this happens sometimes." Nicky says even if it had never gone on this long with FF having to reboot his system. It feels like his friend may have blue-screened but Nicky's willing to wait it out.

"If you're sure." Aaron says expression giving away how unconvinced he is but he moves along, "Did you do what we talked about last night?" he asks.

"Yeup." Nicky says popping the 'p' at the end.

"Good." Aaron says as he opens the door to the ice cream shop.

****** Andrew is walking to Abby's with Neil, Kevin, and Matt to pick up his car. Nicky had texted Andrew that he and Aaron were hanging out at Abby's trying to get FF to snap out of whatever daze he had fallen into.

"We have to let him tryout and there will be someone from the university there making sure it's all fair." Neil spits the word out with obvious disgust. "Like any of this shit is fair!" Neil kicks a pebble on the sidewalk.

Andrew keeps his thoughts to himself that if Daniel just doesn't make it to the tryouts then there's no issue. This whole mess kicked off because he stabbed FF and Andrew wanted to make it right. FF may not blame Andrew and may still reflexively tell anyone who asks that Romero did it, but Andrew can't forget the moment he looked over and saw his knife in FF's stomach and realized that the blood on his hands was his friend's.

"He might be a good addition to the team." Kevin says.

"Kevin, if you say that one more time I'm going to dump phase 3 down your throat." Matt hisses.

Kevin recoils in visible disgust and notably keeps his mouth shut. Andrew will have to get the recipe off of Matt if it's that effective at shutting Kevin up.

They make the final turn onto Abby's street and Andrew's eyes narrow as he looks at Abby's driveway where there was only one car.

"Where the fuck is my car?" he asks.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[kiestrokes]

TMI: and nobody cares but my ovulation is a fucking bitch this month and @chans-room -says their govt name like a cuss word- is wrecking my shit left and right with every man they can think of 😒

[silentprotagonist000]

My favorite trope in Persona 5 fanfiction is when the protagonist is about to rail someone in the attic of LeBlanc and he's like "Morgana get the fuck out of here"

[tinogiehd]

Im prepared for the “next time your roommates are fucking don’t show up to my boyfriends window” bombshell when they get heated Everyone hold hands

DONTTTTT SAY THAT 😭😭😭😭

[rocknrollinbitchforu]

no way all my roommates have partners when none of them did when we met. yall???? why are you leaving me behind LMAO

[stuff-atlas-likes]

If you pray and are touched by the light of god you can experience exactly 1/13th of what it feels like to smoke a cigarette by Lake Michigan at 1 AM, staring into the infinite midnight blue and thinking about how right across is Indiana and Michigan and how collapsed that distance feels and how it takes you over an hour to get down to south shore by train but you feel like you could swim right across to it and how beneath you are all the fish with their own lives and thoughts and feelings and the warm air blows around you like it considers you part of the same world as itself

[canichangemyblogname]

The things many parents teach their children do the exact opposite of preparing said child for adulthood.

Like. A non-zero number of us were taught as children never to invite ourselves over or invite ourselves in, like we’re fucking vampires or something. But that’s also the only way to include yourself in activities as an adult.

There have to be better ways to teach a child to be respectful of someone’s plans and not be presumptuous and pushy. There have to be better ways to express, “If you show up unannounced, they may not have the time or will to entertain you” and “Give people time to prepare for company” and “People get busy, so make plans in advance or they may be unable to hang out because they already have obligations.”

But— also— there’s something so… anti-community about the way this is taught with a simple, “Never invite yourself, wait to be invited.” You’ll wait forever.

[drmsofanabsolution]

pov: sapnap the next time dnf banish him from the house together

[sleepynoons]

alhaitham x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: omegaverse (alpha!alhaitham + omega!reader), heat, knotting, massive massive MASSIVE breeding kink, impregnation kink, size kink, slight sadism/masochism (more masochism if anything), mentions of pain + hurt, marking + biting, fingering, squirting, unintentional edging (receiving), allusions to dubcon + objectification (but none of it actually), slight nipple play, implied marathon sex

notes: sighs,,, idk how i ended up convincing myself to write omegaverse,,, but i really had a lot of fun with this,,, anyway, i love being an alhaitham fucker, and i love it even more when he loses it and can't be his usual put-together self. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

edit: 700+ notes?? y’all :((( i’m v touched and also cracking up lol omegaverse ig checks out - but tyssssm for all the love!! reminders that requests are still open (pls read my rules), and i’d love to have moots/anons!!!!

edit x2: 1,000+ notes... y'all... this is a massive milestone for me to hit - thank you so much for all the love on this lil drabble!! there's no amount of words that can describe how grateful i am, truly.

“ALHAITHAM, FASTER!”

you’re whining, sobbing, desperately begging your lover. anything will do – he can even just lie back and let you bounce up and down on his cock. but you’re only in such a frenzied, lucid state because of your heat. alhaitham, on the other hand, is a few weeks out from his next rut, which means he is able to think about what’s rationally best for you.

you’re infuriated. you need more. you need him to mount onto you, pounding and thrusting into you until you’re screaming for him to stop, and even then, he’ll continue to push you over the edge over and over again until you’re a sticky, fucked out doll. the fire in your belly is burning so passionately, and while you would say something snarky or sarcastic to rile alhaitham up, you can barely carry a thought and can only dig your fingernails into his biceps to convey your impatience.

your lover grunts at the piercing sensation and, through gritted teeth, says, “you just started your heat. rushing through it will only hurt you and lengthen your recovery process.”

you groan at his response, overtly dissatisfied and restless. alhaitham’s response is… it’s just so typical of him. he’s detail-oriented, almost scientific in the way he takes care of you. this isn’t your first heat with him, and he’s learned from prior experiences how to ensure your safety and comfort. in fact, the two of you now follow a procedure to prepare for your heat that consists of: gathering all of your favorite snacks and drinks; washing and prepping all of the pillows, clothes, and blankets you’ll need for your nest; and most importantly, figuring out a polite way of telling kaveh that he’s getting “sexiled.”

but this is overkill, you scream in your head. in missionary, alhaitham is going at a steady pace, but what he doesn’t know and can’t feel is that he’s edging you. he’s fanning the flames of your arousal yet never helping you reach the peak. he’s stimulating you at your most sensitive spots and parts, but it’s not enough for your release. he’s torturing you, and he can’t even tell.

“alhaitham,” you cry out for the nth time. “please, please, please! i can’t take it anymore! i just - i need your cock! i need to cum! please, please, i beg you, i promise you i’ll be fine! alhaitham!”

you’re breaking down into tears. by instinct, your body releases more of your scent, and somewhere beyond your crying, your lover takes a deep inhale.

while alhaitham isn’t in his rut, that doesn’t mean he can’t lose control. he hopes you know that he’s doing his best for you, that he’s holding onto the last shreds of his willpower because, if otherwise, he doesn’t know what will become of you. he’s so much bigger, stronger, sturdier than you are, towering over you in both size and strength. he can be painfully forceful, and inflicting pain upon you is the last thing he wants to do.

but you’re sobbing uncontrollably. you’re defenseless yet pleading him to take you roughly, to break in your pussy with his heavy, leaking cock. you want him to use his force to placate your insatiable heat. you need him to overpower you.

he releases a long, shuddering sigh. he attempts to rationalize, consider the potential repercussions of giving in. but he soon realizes he can’t think. your addicting, heady scent, combined with the beautiful sounds of your moans and whimpers, are rendering his mind empty.

it’s pointless. he growls, “you asked for this.”

one second you’re weeping, and the next all of the air inside you is knocked out by a sudden, harsh thrust from alhaitham. he’s going so fast and hard now, cock head brushing against your womb while his balls and knot slap against your asshole. you feel your toes curl at the feeling of being split apart, and your mouth parts to voice salacious moans.

this is what you wanted. you feel your body relax. you just have to take it, take his fat cock bullying your cunt open, take his harsh bites and teething at your nipples, take his seed until you’re filled to the brim. in your mind, all you can think is, you’re his, you’re alhaitham’s, he wants you. the omega in you croons happily, and you’re every bit as delighted as well.

alhaitham grips onto your wrists tightly as he shoves himself into your tight, sticky walls over and over again. at one point, he flips you over, commanding you to raise your ass up higher. as he holds onto your hips, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle as he pounds into you, and he wants to lick down the beautiful curve of your back. you’re doing your best to stifle your screams because somehow, your lover is reaching even deeper, and the scraping of your breasts against the bedsheets is driving you mad.

then, you feel one of alhaitham’s hands reach down, brushing against the fat of your thighs. it’s inching dangerously close to your throbbing clit, and heat rushes up to your face.

“wait, alhaitham, no –“ 

your lover pinches your yearning bud, and you scream. wetness gushing everywhere, you’re squirting and creaming, white cum staining your lover’s cock and leaking out of your pussy. your eyes roll back, and you’ve lost all ability to control your body, which is absolutely shaking as alhaitham continue to rub and flick at your clit as he tries to squeeze his knot into your fluttering hole.

“oh, archons! alhaitham! stop! no, no, it’s too much! it can’t fit!”

alhaitham, still teasing and toying with your pussy, leans over and snarls into your ear, “you were just saying you wanted more. now you can’t take it?”

you’re wailing. you feel as if you’re being ripped apart at the seams. but the thought of alhaitham’s knot is just too delicious to pass on, so you don’t complain anymore. you just accept the waves of pain and pleasure that crash over you as alhaitham finally locks his knot inside you and bites down on your neck.

your lover groans loudly, lost in his delirium as well. after a few more shallow grinds, he reaches his own high, and you feel rope after rope of his cum fill you up. alhaitham’s cum is so warm and gooey and thick that you’re drooling and slobbering over the pillows at being filled up so thoroughly – impregnated – with it.

even as he’s still cumming, alhaitham bites on the shell of your ear and commands, “keep up, because i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

you can only whimper and fist the blankets even tighter at his command, bracing yourself for the next round.

[in-mutual-weirdness]

Getting sexiled is mostly only a problem when you are literally sharing a bedroom with someone. I had a suite style dorm in college and once I was chilling in my room alone while the roommate in the bedroom next door was doing halloween party prep with her bf. Eventually at one point I started hearing rhythmic rocking motions through the wall. I was a bit too naive to fully recognize the sounds for what they were, but I went "that's not my business" and put headphones on. My night went entirely uneventfully from there.

Sex noises are very "if you heard it, no you didn't". It can be hard if people are particularly noisy and you don't have an easy alternate chill place to go like a spare room, common area, or comfortable public space. But like the previous posters said, it's no different from the accomodations we make to folks when they bring guests over anyway.

You can tell this is the social anxiety website because of all the people you see act like it's impossible to host hookups if you have roommates

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[ptergwen]

omg can you write a blurb where peter and the reader are in the stage of their relationship where they can't keep their hands of each other and keep leaving hickeys on each other and sexiling their roommates ? love your stuff <3

my place or yours?

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w/c: 793

warnings: 18+!, smut (p in v), language

a/n: hehe one of my fave tropes, when everyone's fed up because they can't get enough of each other :D hope you enjoy! and friendly reminder to join my new taglist it's dead y'all lmao

you move your hips against peter's, rubbing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. you both make noises of content, lips and tongues intertwined. peter helps you take off your shirt and works on your bra next. you smile coyly from above him as his hands find your chest.

"when's harry gonna be back?"

peter's hands massage your breasts, eyes glazed over with lust.

"uh, i don't know... or care."

he leaves a trail of kisses going down between your breasts. you giggle and push his head back playfully.

"but what if he walks in again?"

"don't worry about it, i put a sock on the doorknob... just in case."

you ruffle peter's hair, dipping your head down so your faces are just inches apart.

"you're so extra, pete. you could've just texted him."

"i know, but i really wanted to piss him off this time."

"i feel kind of bad, though. we've been sexiling him a lot lately."

peter moves his hands down to your hips, guiding you forward so your clothed center presses against him. he gives you a cheeky smile.

"so next time we'll go to your dorm and sexile betty."

you scoff at peter and capture his lips in a kiss. he bucks his hips up, into you, needing you. you need him just as bad.

you can't seem to get enough of each other recently, so much so that you'll go at it anytime and anywhere. your friends aren't too happy about it. they either get kicked out of the room or banned from entering.

you and peter finish undressing each other, fast but somehow still not fast enough. in one swift motion peter flips you over and grabs your leg, lifting it up to his shoulder. his dark eyes lock with yours. you nod repeatedly, desperately. he pushes into you with ease, a moan instantly falling from his lips.

"fuck, baby."

you hum happily. peter keeps his hips still for a moment, lets himself fill you up and feel you wrapped around him. he takes the opportunity to connect your lips once again in a slow kiss. you smile into the kiss and curl your other leg around peter's waist, encouraging him to move. he pulls out of you just enough so he can thrust back in.

peter begins to find a rhythm as his cock thrusts into you again and again. he can tell it's one you like by the way you grab at his shoulders and let out soft moans. he holds your leg in place on his shoulder so he keeps hitting the right spot, at the right angle. you can feel yourself drip between your thighs from how bad you'd wanted him and how good he's fucking you.

"pete... feels so good, baby."

neither of you are making any effort to be quiet. peter presses his forehead to yours, hips moving at the same perfect pace. you take his face in either of your hands. you close your eyes and focus on the pleasure. peter brings a hand down to rub your clit, earning a gasp from you at the sudden intensified feeling. he chuckles at your reaction.

"you like that?"

"mm, you know i do."

"wanted to hear you say it anyway."

you groan at peter's cockiness, but god does it turn you on.

"of course you did."

peter continues stroking in and out of you as his middle and ring fingers circle your clit. you crane your neck so you can kiss across peter's jaw, his chin, then back to his lips, his tussled hair tickling your forehead. you give him a look, the look with the eyes that gets him every time.

"harder."

peter brings your other leg up to his shoulders, holding them both in place, starting to pound into you. he groans out a fuck. you arch your back and reach up, hands still cupping his cheeks. you're breathless and he's panting. you want more and more, as much of him as you can take, even more than that.

"oh my god, y/n. shit, baby."

"needed you so bad, pete."

"i’m all yours."

peter takes one of your hands and kisses your palm. you squeeze your intertwined hands, eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss.

the moment is interrupted when you two hear harry call from outside.

"again, parker? really?"

he bangs on the door for emphasis. peter stifles a laugh, continuing to thrust into you, making you have to stifle a moan.

"hey, man! respect the sock!"

"yeah. you're a real class act, you two."

you wait until harry leaves to join peter in a fit of giggles. you push some damp hair out of his face, scrunching up your nose.

"okay, yeah. my place next time."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety