sol-consort

[sol-consort]

ARE YOU READY FOR 1.5!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I got around a 100 pulls saved up bu the time 1.5 hits

I COULDN'T BE MORE READY IF I TRIED

And. I have tried.

Of course, it's the piece I want most :)

BUT LOOK, LOOK AT THIS FUCKING LEAK

MERMAID NIKKI, SHE HAS A BELLY PIERCING AND A BUTTERFLY TOP OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM LOSING IT

NOT TO MENTION THE RECOLOURS????????????? PINK CRYSTAL POEMS COME HOME! THE DYE FEATURE AND THE LONG AWAITING VERTICAL PHOTOGRAPHY MODE AAAAA I HAVE JUMPED INTO THE OCEAN AND CURRENTLY GNAWING AGAINST THE WIFI CABLE WITH THE SHARKS I CAN'T WAIT

[sol-consort]

I never got why there couldn’t be ‘male’ asari, or any non binary asari. Asari technically don’t have any sex (or at least I don’t think they do? Being able to impregnate each other and be impregnated by others) and I think within lore it’s mostly just that most Asari prefer being called female?

It would be so cool to have a male/non-binary asari, maybe get to explore that more alien side of their culture.

Would there be discrimination against non conforming asari? Or are they already recognised and respected within asari culture. Would they attempt to change their appearance to align more with masculinity, do asari even have a concept of masculinity? How would these asari deal with a galaxy that by and large assumes them to be female and perhaps pushes back against their existence?

In the asari world, all displays of masculinity fall under the pretence of femininity, because to them, femininity is personhood.

It's not the same concept of femininity you and I think of when we hear the word; it's much closer to the word "person" than it is to any real display of gender.

Asari do not have gender. Technically, they're all non binary; there is no binary.

Imagine with me if we met a new alien species who have 3 assigned gender roles for their people. Feminine, masculine, and boroblo

"Boroblo? What is that," you'd ask, and the alien would look at you as if you were an idiot before condescendingly explaining,"boroblo are people who aren't masculine or feminine. Duh?"

"So... non binary folks?"

"What? No. We DO have non binary people here, and boroblo isn't them. It's a traditional gender role that's been there since the dawn of time, silly human."

So you ask them to describe boroblo to you. The alien says sure and lists the following

Boroblo people have:

Long head fur

Small antlers

Usually are soft-spoken and never battle for dominance

Usually are best suited for manual labour or the army

Usually associated with the colour blue and dark green

Use Lor/Bir/Ler pronouns

"But," you say, "this just sounds like they took random traits from the masculine and feminine gender roles and mushed them together?"

"Uh... no. It's your species who never categorised gender roles fully and left an unfinished job. Why are your womenfolk taught to be so submissive? That's a common boroblo trait that is never suited for a lady."

Now, replace the human with an asari, and the alien with a human who's telling her about this New Gender called being a dude. With the neo-pronouns of He/Him.

Only for everything you describe to end up sounding like you're just poaching random traits from femininity and rebranding it as its own gender.

Because, from the asari perspective, femininity is interchangeable with personhood. All of what we perceive as "masculine" and "androgynous" falls under the umbrella of femininity to them.

When there is only one gender, there is no gender.

An asari can act as masculine as she wants, hell, an asari can go exclusively by he/him, and it will still fall under the umbrella of asari femininity. There is already a glaring example of this in canon: the asari's use of the word "father" under the pretence of femininity.

We do not associate femininity with personhood, and neither do we associate masculinity with personhood. So we look at the asari—who are people just acting like people—and we feel a need to categorise and label them based on vague broad details to fit our definition of genders.

You wouldn't be asking this if the asari weren't shaped like human women and looked the likes of hanar. The irony is that they do share the exact same definition of gender as the hanar! Absolutely genderless. The only difference is the hanar's use of the neo pronouns This one/It, while the asari use the neo pronouns She/Her (because all pronouns are neo pronouns! That's how language works!)

As for an ingame explanation to why their lack of gender is translated into feminine pronouns and gender, I think the ingame translator between species is at fault. The localisation human team tried to cross the language barrier by assigning all asari feminine pronouns and voices.

An asari can't be feminine, masculine or non binary; they already are. There is no default gender norm for them to break out of, like we humans battle to do. They're all the same gender, the gender of being a person.

There can never be a non-conforming asari because there is nothing to conform out of! Everything is allowed in the display of asari "femininity"

They do not associate their appearance with femininity. They associate it with personhood. Only to humans does it ever look feminine, to the asari it looks normal and mundane, the default. It's like being shown two kidneys and asked to identify which one is the girl and which one is the boy. THEY'RE KIDNEYS! THEY'RE GENDERLESS.

So are the asari bodies! Breasts are genderless in the galactic fuck-off abyss of space (and on Earth too, but people are not ready for this convo)

It's not their fault that most human women happened to have the same bodies as them. If anything, they're the ones who came first before us. We are the copycat.

No one would ever push back against the existence of asari who do not conform to human femininity, least of all the asari. The asari do not have gender roles, and what do human genders roles have gotta do with them?

But in our reality, probably because the devs needed a poster boy for the alien species with attractive qualities to peddle to their male audience at the cost of shooting the asari's art direction team in the foot.

[sol-consort]

You’ve arrived fresh off the boat in the citadel! This is your first time off the planet and your are ready to explore the known galaxy!!!

…until you realise how expensive everything is and are forced to immediately find a shared apartment. At least your landlords nice, and the rooms are pretty spacious. Living with your landlord is kinda strange but shes really nice, one of the many Asari who have accumulated enough wealth to purchase a large home.

At first she was so proud to have her own space, and so much of it all to herself! But after a couple decades she got bored, lonely even. Her last romantic partner died ages ago and her children have all started to live on their own.

So she just decided to rent out a bunch of rooms in her house. Curb that ‘empty nest syndrome’ or whatever the internet called her boredom.

Your roommate’s are pretty cool to, you’ve never been around so many aliens before.

Theres your Turian roommate, he’s pretty nice, if a little awkward and forward. Your Krogan roommate, you’re actually not sure how he pays rent? You’ve never seen him leave for work and he doesn’t like talking about it. Maybe some mercenary work?

Then theres your quarian and salarian roommates as well. Everyone is pretty nice and you all help each other out, *cough* especially your quarian roommate *cough*

Sometimes you catch some of them acting strange around you, and for the life of you cannot figure out what is up with them. Nothing super weird, just some staring, oddly phrased questions, and lingering touches. Maybe thats just them being Aliens though? Would it be rude to ask?

(They, outside of the salarian and asari, all have feelings for you. The other two are sitting on the sidelines HEAVILY judging all their other freaky ahh roommates while they laugh and watch on)

(Your landlord is having the time of her life btw, maybe she’ll help to stir the pot even more, jk…… unless😏)

brilliant, beautiful, thank you for sharing with the class

[sol-consort]

Did you see that oblivion got remastered!? Have u played it or have you had any opinions on it?

my comrade in debauchery i haven't even played the original oblivion; i was busy learning the alphabet

[sol-consort]

Do you think Salarians would ever participate in sex? It wouldn’t be out of any sexual desire but I could see a Salarian hooking up with a human or asari out of want to experience what all these species make a big deal out it

I see your vision, I have my own spin on it.

In humans, asexuality is an umbrella term that covers different ranges and spectrums of sexual attraction, the desire to have sex, the enjoyment of sex itself, the attraction to sexual traits in others, and the amount of conditions that must be met before the act.

You could have a completely sex repulased ace person who while still enjoys the act of masturbation, is averse to any sexual acts involving other people. Or an ace person who, while still consumes porn, doesn't feel a speck of sexual attraction to the people around them. And many other varying examples.

With salarians, being asexual is the default.

(To spare me the agony of nuance answers from smartypants, let's be clear that any mention of asexuality in this post refers to the sexual orientation commonly found in humans and not the scientific terminology for mitosis)

Again, I don't think the ME writers expanded much upon salarian asexuality, so anything past this point is headcanon territory.

The salarian asexuality is a genetic trait, a physical evolution that emerged from the reproductive use of external fertilisation.

Animals don't like being attached to one another for a long time, least of all inside one another much; puts them in a vulnerable position in the wide open, causing them to be on high alert the whole time.

So, some species opted for external fertilisation instead, a much more convenient and risk-free act, especially aquatic species where it's much awkward to fuck while floating (no one wants to be like whales)

As for the rest of us fools, sexual gratification helped overcome this glaring issue of safety in reproduction... or, more accurately, gave the illusion of a solution, a motive, the whiff of a carrot on a stick.

It feels good, unga bunga, i don't care if a wild tiger jumps and eats me halfway through.

So my whole theory stands on the fact salarians use external fertilisation—like most frogs! Without this one factor, it falls flat on its face.

They are unable to feel sexual stimulus. It's biologically impossible for them. They can "orgasm" to exert the necessary fertilisation and eggs, but it probably feels more like a sneeze rather than anything else.

Does egg reproduction correlate to external fertilisation?

Nope! Fruit flies reproduce through eggs, and a single female can lay them in the hundreds. Internal fertilisation still occurs prior to the egg laying, and fruit flies are known to seek out sex as a stress relief and a leasure for the gratification. (Also they have mating dances did you know fruit flies have mating dances!)

Despite both krogans and salarians reproducing through eggs, their contrasting methods of fertilisation resulted in their different evolution paths towards sexual pleasure and attraction.

So can salarians enjoy sex?

Not in the traditional sense of sexual gratification. It's an objective fact that they lack the necessary biology, which would allow them to.

So we approach it from a subjective point of view instead! If a door is locked, simply break open a window.

Our window here is the keyword "enjoyment"

"Enjoyment" is a highly subjective term and varies from person to person. Some people enjoy the colour blue because it reminds them of the ocean, other people enjoy the colour blue because it reminds them of the sky. Different subjective reasons but the same result of enjoying the objective colour itself.

Salarians experience romantic attraction, unlike most frogs. The term "bond mate" is a canonical term used in Mass Effect by Kallo at one point.

Human sex can have some romantic merits to it. The act itself may also resonate in some salarians through aspects of comfort, closeness, and intimacy instead of sexual pleasure. Or even—like you suggested, dear anon—sheer curiosity!

Human sexual Intercourse differs greatly from salarian reproduction

If a salarian watched a human porn video, they probably wouldn't make the connection that these two humans are performing an act of reproduction. Because everything about it is so out of range to what they associate with the word sex.

To them, it's a business affair, a chore, a maintenance task like brushing your teeth. A clinical process of external egg fertilisation, there is no need for both donors to be in the same room.

The similarities between the two acts start and end with them being labelled sex and being used for reproduction. That's it. That's all they have in common. They look unbelievably different to an outside observer, borderline polar opposite.

The same goes for sexual attraction! I spoke of this briefly in an older post where I explained my theory of how salarian sexual attraction and arousal wouldn't manifest in sexual ways or horniness, but instead be showcased as motivation to outshine the competition by achieving more and excelling in life.

I see a buff man in a skimpy pink dress and neurons in my ape brain light up, and suddenly I want to tie him up to my bed and do unholy things to him that'd make the devil blush.

A salarian sees an overly accomplished academic whose discoveries have revolutionised their field, and suddenly they want to eat lunch together and rub elbows.

A human gets horny so they masturbate. A salarian gets horny so they deep clean their room and draft emails. You get the gist of it.

-

Would a salarian have salarian sex with a human?

No.

Would a salarian have human sex with a human?

Sure! If they feel like it. They won't get any sexual gratification as we've previously established, but they can still get different kinds of pleasure and gratification.

Would a salarian be sexually attracted to a human? (in the human way)

No.

Would a salarian be sexually attracted to a human? (in the salarian way)

Yes! It's rare, a deviation, but not impossible. Isolated cases exist. The human in question would need to be outstanding by salarian standards, which is nothing short of a miracle. See: Mordin telling Shepard he'd gladly mate with them if they were a salarian.

-

To sum it up

Salarian asexuality differs from human asexuality despite the overlap in spectrums

Salarian sex is different from the other species' sex due to their fertilisation method

Human sex is so foreign to salarians that they don't associate it with their traditional concept of mating sex

Human sex could be reinterpreted by salarians to envoke different emotions and stimulus than sexual pleasure

Frog physiology should only be used as vague inspiration for salarians and not be cited as their bible of biology word for word

[sol-consort]

Regular holiday themed ask, you mentioned once how the salarians would feel about finding out that humans eat Easter eggs after they find them, but how would the other aliens feel about it do you think? Easter and eating eggs I mean

Not very thrilled, I'd imagine. Neither are the krogans.

But hey! It is somewhat of an achievement to weird out both of these species at once.

"Why eggs? You could've picked a million other things. Why the eggs, human? Explain it to me, right now. And in all of your brilliance, you thought it's appropriate to present ME with a basket full of the things smothered in artificial dye and BOILED?"

Especially the hiding part, oh the hiding part of an egg hunt hits a nerve. Even calling it an egg hunt gives them the same queasy feeling in the stomach you'd get from hearing "baby hunt" or "infant hunt"

They understand that your species evolved from a hunter-gatherer tribe, it's just... hard to swallow sometimes. At least with the turians, it's an apex predator in front of your face, the sharp teeth are there front and centre. There is no hiding a turian, they look and act the cookie cutter part they'd expect from a species on an opposing nature.

But the humans are way too sneaky without even trying to. The soft, squishy surface and small teeth aren't helping at all. It's the facade of a docile friendly species that would never hurt a bug. They have seen your people run away from that on Earth bug, spider, on multiple occasions .

It's so easy to forget your predatory nature until you pull up with some holiday that makes their jaw drop to the floor. Like good on you for funnelling these evolutionary urges into stimulating activities... but does it make you look like sociopaths on the occasion.

Proteins are proteins, there is no shame in eating another species' eggs no matter how weird of a concept it seems to salarians. It's the pretend "hunt" part that they're fully shaming you for. You boiled these eggs, painted the shells—the thing that resembles safety and determines how healthy a hatchling will be—you painted on that with vibrant colours, then hid them around a garden for other members of your species to go... searching for them?

[sol-consort]

Very nice looks for your IN stuff. I only have one question…

This you?

it's fine like ice soup stops tasting bad after the 38th time around

[sol-consort]

Big day for my IN account

[sol-consort]

AAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAA

[sol-consort]

Human: ...

Turian: ...

Human: I don't get the bird comments.

Turian: Yeah?

Human: You're more like a kitty cat...

Turian: Is- is that better? What is that?

Human: Well, I think kittens are cuter, if that helps

Turian: ...It does

[sol-consort]

maybe if I start imagining Johnny Silverhand giving me shit for playing dutiful consumer in a corpo shop then I'll be less inclined to impulsive purchases and retail therapy

[sol-consort]

dude have u heard of Exodus cause I've been following it's development since it was announced lowkeyyy and i just knowwww it's gonna be so fun to chitchat about

HOW did this game fly under my radar for so long, I need it desperately in my life. Wdym, the earliest release date prediction is 2026???

"No... Please come with me. Tom... I love you" OUCH MY HEART OKAY WHAT NO NO WHAT :"( He was just her side kick but he wanted her to have a moment of rest because she always did so much and sacrificed a lot, so he chose to let her return home and have her happy ever after while he selflessly acted as bait for the celestes????

Although, they seem like a synthetic construction instead of an organic species? Maybe they're just an advanced security system and not sentient beings...

WHERE ARE THE ALIENS!! WHY NO ALIENS :((

There are these guys

but their design seems very redundant, I mean that's just a werewolf with a gun. The guys on the right seem more fun but more eldritch horror vibes than science fiction.

BUT THIS SHIP FUCKS HARD

Or is that a creature? Or maybe BOTH!

Although, still, I don't have my hopes up. With the way the narrator is describing these aliens more akin to beasts than people.

"They hunt you down like vengeful gods, difficult to outsmart, impossible to reason with." Sooooo very slim chances for intergalactic relationships between us and the aliens? Eh.

Anyway there are planets, there are stars, there are ships, and alien worlds. This game is already down my alley and sold itself pretty well. The art direction is phenomenal and reminds me of early dnd concepts, but sci-fi. The planets are barren, space is cold, and the galaxy is brutal. So it's not gonna be a lovey dovey experience of lush greenery planets or documenting of colourful species like No Man's Sky. Everything is grey-toned and dim. That world seems harsh and military focused, a fast-paced tactical combat game is the impression I'm getting. Not groundbreaking but not too shabby either, who knows, maybe they'll blow me out of the water with unforgettable companions or mind-boggling plot twists.

It actually doesn't remind me of Mass Effect at all. Those games did have a resemblance of a galactic civilisation, even if the Citadel was just a background in ME1. It was still there. It was still somewhat colourful.

This isn't a criticism of Exodus; I'm not looking for a mass effect knockoff. It's just an observation bc so many comments seem to parrot that this is the next Mass Effect with heavy inspiration from the series, when the only thing in common they seem to have is the space theme. Honestly, good for Exodus! deserves to make its own name in the genre and not be lumped with Mass Effect. Hope people come to appreciate the distinct style and art direction on its own eventually.

[sol-consort]

I wonder how long it took for the first human/turian relationship to happen

Like which turian was like "damn it sucks about the relay- I mean first contact war but you're cute, your waist is supportive, do you wanna go out sometime?" And which human responded with "yes" embarrassingly quickly?

The first human/turian relationship (or human/alien for the matter) to happen undoubtedly occurred during the first contact war amidst the laser bullets, invasions, and warships.

As brutal as war tend to be, the people in it stay people. Capable of empathy, of love, of untimely attachments. You don't get to choose when your heart beats or for whom it does, you can try to deny your feelings but they'll always find their way out eventually.

Could be a guard/war prisoner situation

Could be two enemy soldiers stranded and forgotten by their unit, the forced proximity of a small space making them work together and cooperate

Could be two nobodies who were never really soldiers but civilians at the wrong time and place, who crossed paths and bonded over their shared experience

And that's just the "offical" relationship status, while the first instance of a human falling head over heels for a turian happened much earlier, even before the invention of galactic translators, back when turians were viewed as screeching space dinosaurs with a freaky exoskeleton.

Back when the first turian soldier was apprehended, the human whose mission was to escort it to a secure cell and wait until the scientists requested an examination.

Back when the human made the mistake of looking into the turian's eyes, an unspoken yet familiar feelings washing over you. You understood those primal emotions of fear, confusion, and deep betrayal swirling in those dark eyes.

And you couldn't help... but feel sorry for it.

You didn't even know its gender or name at the time. You couldn't understand a single word it said. But you treated it with gentlness all the same, despite all the things you heard about the cruel and brutal species it came from in the reports.

And it turn, the turian seemed... almost grateful for your consideration. Those werid metallic feathers on its head wouldn't puff out around you as much as it did when your superiors came to question it to no avail, the mandibles on its cheek would click in an almost pleasent rhyme as you adjusted the borderline-painful cuffs on its limbs, loosening them to a more comfortable degree.

What confused you the most was how surprised the turian themselves seemed to be at their bodily reactions. Or maybe it was that they were having those reactions around you—a fleshy creature with headfur belonging to a barbaric bloodthirsty species—that made his stomach sink in the first place.

He tries to treat you with some resemblance of dignity, the very same you've shown him. Never really screeching at you, more akin to a deep chirping or growl.

You're curious; you keep staring at different parts of him, and the white sclera of your eyes is making it extremely obvious. If he wasn't concerned for his life and possibly impending doom right now, he might have found it a little endearing.

You have a name... he thinks. The very same melody notes those other humans keep calling you by. He tries to mimick it at one point but can't seem to get the notes right, to add insult to injury, the sound that come out are so gurgled that you think he's choking for a second and rush to him with water, the sterilised kind. At least your species gauged the dextro structure of turian genetics by now.

He repeats his own name to you from time to time. Lucky for him, human seem to have an innate understanding when you want them to repeat a sound back to you. The more he makes the same noise for you in succession, the more inclined you are to mimick it back at him.

He's not sure why he does it... it's not like you'll know its meaning. But he can't deny how much he longs to leave you something to remember him by. This war can't last forever. Eventually, he'll be returned to his planet and unit, either by his species decimating your own or by the galactic council stepping in and doing their diplomacy magic. He was never one for politics.

But on the very off chance that both of you survive... that both of you get out of here alive. Maybe, just maybe you'll remember his name and seek him out. At the very least, he'd like to properly thank you for the small kindness you've shown him. Preferably when he's not in chains, and when you're not being scrutinised under your superiors' steel gaze for daring to show mercy to an alien.

[sol-consort]

unmark my words and sell my dignity; the kitty cat has a pacifier

MARK MY WORDS, I'm only getting the base hair then getting tf out of there. 50 PULLS IS ALL YOU'LL EVER GONNA GET FROM ME FUGLY BANNER!

And snatch the makeup + lipstick while I'm at it

[sol-consort]

MARK MY WORDS, I'm only getting the base hair then getting tf out of there. 50 PULLS IS ALL YOU'LL EVER GONNA GET FROM ME FUGLY BANNER!

And snatch the makeup + lipstick while I'm at it

[sol-consort]

I am a goddamn

Motherfucking cowboy

Daddy was a cow

And my momma was a boy

Half person half cow

that's me a cowboy

Hoodeladle Hoodeladle

Life's a nightmare

YOU CAN RIDE THE MOTORCYCLE I AM SO FUCKED

[sol-consort]

My brain got bodyslammed today thinking about Pervy Quarian Roommate again and his method of "boosting his immune system" by making out with reader. The bodyslam came with extrapolating of off the theory of humans inventing kissing as a means of innocculating others to our germs to a pipeline of how breastmilk is also said to help a babies immune system and Quarian Roommate learning about this and just plummeting down a rabbithole of fantasies about reader pregnant and swollen and needing milking and he's all to happy to offer to help them. He can't see his helmets foggier than normal, can't even speak without risking saying something completly unhinged to the reader about the sites he's been visiting lately, he's a mess. Someone help him.

(Sorry if this is too much, just had to yeet this into the aether to clear it from my mind)

You know what? I'm proud of you for yeeting this into my aether. It takes courage!! This is a kink positive blog. Also, lowkey really motivated me to write like damn this is a minty fresh prompt that I haven't done before, I'm intrigued, I'm curious, imma take a dip in the milk pool. Was supposed to be a drabble, turned into a whole fic, bon appetite? (pun intended) Will crosspost it to AO3 later.

Quarians Can Get Humans Pregnant, You're Just Not Trying Hard Enough!

(yes this is the title I settled on)

[Heavy smut, breastfeeding kink, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, perversion, male quarian being a degenerate, health kink if you squint? SOME plot]

[AFAB reader has a vagina/breasts, Ambiguous gender, GN pronouns]

Loosely follows this roommate series as part one, but can stand on its own.

The thing about human breasts is that because it's such a common fact of life, a lot of sources and wiki articles on breastfeeding fail to mention that milk production is mostly only possible by pregnancy. In the majority of mammals, their breasts only visibly swell with fat after pregnancy, then gradually decrease post birth. Humans are a minority with our constantly visible round tits 24/7.

And that fact might slip by other species, most importantly the sheltered alien who can't make it two paragraphs into the Human Anatomy Wikipedia without getting a raging boner and losing all focus. The words blurring into one another as all he can think about are the hard nipples he saw poking through your shirt one cold morning.

Because he is such a bad reader and an incredibly perverted person, he might just think that you're already pregnant. Incubating a life inside you. That it's just a matter of time before you become groggy, sleepy, and cuddly all day long. Swollen and heavy, always craving something to munch on, always cozy in bed with fluffy blankets, chest even bigger than before, tits swollen and spilling over your now tight top.

But ah, that fantasy falls apart if the alien in question is a quarian. It would've worked with literally any other alien species besides them and the asari since they also happen to share this rare anatomical trait of humans.

So he knows you're not pregnant. But you know what they say about yearning? The harder something is to reach, the more tantalising and desirable it becomes, and the more delicious it is to achieve.

The fact that you are currently not pregnant is borderline blasphemous in his eyes. It's a crime! Your fellow humans must have lost their mind or something to let someone as strong, healthy, smart, and beautiful as you just stay barren.

This isn't his rose-tinted views talking... well, maybe it is. But nonetheless, you're a prime candidate for breeding. So fertile and healthy. Your body will be accommodating to any cock it takes inside, your womb practically begging to overflow with cum.

You need a baby inside you. Plain and simple. He swears he can't understand the human mind at times.

It's so infuriating. He's like a starving person watching a bunch of people pass up on a literal feast in front of his eyes. It's so unfair that he can't get you pregnant himself.

Be it nurture or nature, fantasies of breeding you constantly plague his mind. Seemingly popping at the most innocent times... and some not so innocent times.

Oh, trust him. If he could, he would.

If only.

On one hand, he is turning green with envy at the mere thought of a human courting you. On the other hand, he knows there is a zero chance of you getting pregnant without another human being involved.

He could stuff you with his cum all day long until your legs are wobbly and your tummy has a subtle bulge to it. An opaque fluid seeping from your cunt and onto the mattress below, hole gaping and closing in rhythm with your heavy breathes as you lay there all spent and oversensitive.

He wants to have his cake and eat it too.

He wants your boobs heavy and leaking, your tummy full and round, whilst being the only person allowed to creampie you.

Not that he actually ever got further than kissing you under the pretence of training his immune system—all the antibiotic shots he needed to take in secret afterwards were totally worth it—what matters is that you believed him! That you happily and enthusiastically smothered him with kisses until your lips were shiny and glossy.

If only he could get over his fears and confess... alas, each time he comes close to it, he chickens out. Especially with the uh other roommates' eyes digging into his back whenever he attempts to have a "private" chat with you in the hallway. Yeah, the walls are really thin in here.

A man can dream, at the very least.

Weave his own fairytale of sharing a house with you, just the two of you. Maybe a modern apartment in the Citadel overlooking the persidium, maybe a house with a spacious yard in an upcoming colony, maybe saving up for a good domestic ship and touring the galaxy together.

What matters is, in his fantasy, you're always waiting for him back home. Greeting him at the door, barefoot with your face all flushed and pouty, already mad at him for something. You forgot what it is, but you're still mad nonetheless.

He has to restrain himself from melting into a puddle on the floor right then and there, how adorable you are whilst being all huffy and puffy.

Of course, he'll make it up to you. He'll do whatever you ask. He'll get you whatever food you want. Want him to massage your feet after he makes you a cup of hot tea? Want to sit in his lap and let him rub your round stomach in a comforting motion?

He'll play the role of the dutiful husband to the nines!

Or is his pretty human all moody because your chest is too heavy? Did it get too swollen with milk while he was away? Is that what's been bothering you all day?

Poor baby, let your husband help you with it. You always liked tracing the star patterns on his galaxy skin while cradling his head to your chest.

A dark purple tongue littering kitten licks atop your soft nipple, watching it harden against the cold air, coaxing the tender thing into his mouth, twirling it around with his tongue.

Just to prolong the process, just to get to play house with you a little more. And you're just so needy for his mouth to relieve you of all of this milk weighing down your chest, that you don't even have the energy to tell him off for deliberately teasing you.

Your eyes glossed over the second he took your nipple into his mouth, your brain turned into mush, the heat in your core intensified.

It feels so right, having someone drink from your chest. Your body knows it feels right and it rewards you for fulfilling your purpose, it makes you so happy and pliant, makes you so docile as you sit there slightly squirming, gentle hands cradling his head, burying it against your tits even more in hopes he'll take the hint and start drinking.

Why isn't he drinking yet? You really need to get this milk out, it's too much. You're almost brought to tears, he is being too mean...

You're still in your new clothes and all—the fresh ones you had to change into merely minutes before his arrival because the previous ones were all stained from your chest just leaking all day long—comfortably nuzzled on his lap, facing him with your back against the headboard of the bed.

Nursing bra pushed under your boobs alongside your low-cut top, making your tits literally spill over your clothes. You did all of this for him, and he's still not drinking from you.

The quarian learned how to read human emotions while living with you, or maybe it was you who became more and more of an open book around him the more time went on, especially with you pregnant with his child, how vulnerable and treasured this made you feel.

Before it became too much, you felt that familiar sensation, his lips tightening around your nipple before sucking against it. Great relief washed over you.

It's weirdly vulnerable, having someone nurse from your chest, the most intimate act you can imagine. There is no room left for shame, or else, this is as bare and exposed as you can ever be with another person without merging your souls into one.

A soft sigh escapes you, eyes closing, your head tilting back against the headboard.

He's draining the milk out of you, sucking until he collects a generous mouthful, and then the sound of a big gulp follows.

You hold him tight through it, keep tenderly cradling his head to your chest, encouraging him to drink up to his heart's content.

Gradually, one of your boobs begins feeling lighter. Like a boulder lifted off of your shoulders. At the same time, a new sensation begins taking place. Now the nipple squished between his lips is all sore and aching. Half your breast is completely shiny with his spit as he licks it entirely clean, not letting a single drop of milk go to waste.

It's always hard getting him to stop latching onto one and move to the other breast; his whines as you cup your boob away from him almost breaks you, that subtle vibration in the quarians' voicecords always tug at your heartstrings.

But he doesn't move to stop you, merely attempting to chase it with his lips for a few seconds before accepting his fate. Giving you these puppydog eyes, dark pupils fading into the sclera, blurring at the edges, a light iridescence to his irises, shifting in hue as he tilts his head to the side.

Mewling for more of your milk, of your love, of you.

It's always hard. Not because he's stubborn, quite the opposite, but because it's emotionally taxing. You'd think you were betraying him from the way he looks like a kicked puppy, silently pleading for more.

Sometimes you glimpse moments of lucidity, just how bizarre it is that you're really sitting in here, nursing an alien, and a very pretty one at that, while pregnant with his child.

That somehow across the planets and stars, somehow fate deemed it amiable to make the milk humans produce not only very compatible and safe to consume to a certain group, but that very same alien species seeks it out like liquid gold. It lights up all the right spots in their brain, it's the tastiest thing they could possibly consume.

So imagine their deflated reaction when the human race turned out to be too prudish and unnerved by the quarians' enthusiasm and apparent shamelessness in their giddy request.

But not in this house. Sure, if another alien had asked you for such a thing, you'd send them into orbit with zero hesitation.

Never with him, you could never refuse him a request. How lucky he is to have someone so understanding and accommodating like you.

Cupping his cheek with your hand, your tilt his head up, lips brushing against his own in a soft kiss. He's more than receptive as he deepens the kiss, making you taste yourself, traces of your very own sweet milk evident in his greedy mouth.

Pulling you even close on his lap, squeezing your thighs, kneading the doughy thing. How can someone so beautiful be so strong? At times, you swear he appears as delicate as a flower made from star clusters painted across a dark abyss.

At other times, when he picks you up so easily at the front door, carrying you to the bed without breaking a sweat. Simply cooing at your adorable upset expression, leaving light pecks across your face and neck as a way to kiss the moodiness away. And you're reminded of who you're dealing with, the wolf in sheep's clothings.

Especially now, with these "delicate" fragile-looking fingers squishing the fat on your hips and thighs, completely massaging all the knots out, a steel grip keeping you secured to his lap.

To think all this beauty was hidden away behind a metallic environmental suit for years and years... finally blossoming in front of your eyes.

You break the kiss just as he begins rolling his hips from under you. Knowing exactly what's the thing poking under your thigh is. You got him all excited and worked up from a simple kiss, or maybe getting easily riled up is just one of the side effects of a quarian being milkdrunk.

Cupping your other breast, the still full one, you attempt to slightly nudge it up a bit. Your hand is clearly not big enough. The soft fat spilling from the corners. To add insult to injury, you only served to aid gravity into squeezing it flat against the palm of your hand.

Pursing your lips in an attempt to suppress the embarrassing groan leaving you at the sensation of having your swollen breast squeezed, even by accident. The tip is already covered in a sheer milky liquid, leaking droplets of your precious milk, feeling it trickle down the underside of your breast, soaking the fingers still holding it up.

The hands under your thighs secure their grip, lifting you slightly in the air, pressing you against the headboard. Your thighs squeeze together under your round stomach. The quarian has a better ease of access now, lowering his head to reach the underside of your chest.

A shiver runs through you at the feeling of his tongue licking stripes down there, moving across your fingers, cleaning them from the precious droplets of milk. Not letting a single one go to waste.

Tongue tracing from the underside of your breast up to your nipple, flicking it with the tip of his tongue as you whine and squirm at the sensation, watching it leak even more into his open mouth, and down your chest, making another mess.

Repeating this agonising process for a few minutes before finding mercy in his heart to lower you down and back into the safety of his lap.

You're so mad at him you want to chew him out for behaving like that and deliberately teasing you, it's not safe to lift a pregnant person like this! You had to carry your stomach with your thighs just so it wouldn't droop, really he needs to be more responsible.

But all that comes out as you open your mouth is an obscene moan, one straight out of a cliche porno. You don't even register this lewd voice as your own for a few seconds.

While you were busy stewing over him in your brain, not only did his hand sneak under your clothes, but flick your clit as well, before his thumb rolled the bundle of nerves around, eliciting that lewd sound out of you.

You were completely drenched, and you didn't even know it. While he sucked your tit dry, you were only getting wetter and wetter down below, head in the clouds and consumed by bliss, none the wiser to your leaking, aching cunt.

Both your arms wrapped around his neck, guiding him by the nape to your full breast again, silently pleading with him while your clit was being toyed with.

Just as his mouth latched around your nipple, one of his fingers squeezed itself between your tight walls. Burying itself all the way to the knuckle, bending and pressing against your walls, before sliding almost all the way out.

Fucking in and out of you, causing more of your wetness to pour out, while your milk poured down his throat. Greedily sucking against you with feverish intensity, as if he's man starved to quench his thirst, as if he didn't just get his fill and more from your now empty sore breast.

He can't help it. Your milk is ambrosia to his senses. Its creamy taste, sweet smell, and even the mouthwatering colour of it. It drove him mad with desire.

He'd drive his finger into you whilst sucking deeply around your nipple, pulling it out just as he swallows down all the delicious liquid. A vulnerable expression painted across his soft features, eyes locked into yours. Looking up at you as if you're his whole world, his sun and moon, his sole reason for existence, the one carrying his child in your belly.

You sacrifice so much to him, indulge his every whim. How can he not appreciate all that you do? How can he not treasure you? You've let his seed alter your entire body just to grow his baby inside you, to offer him a healthy child.

Going through all of the hardships of pregnancy, of seeing your own belly bulge more and more out each day, until your favourite clothes won't fit anymore. Until you're swollen, stomach round, flesh tender and jelly-like.

Having to abandon your favourite bras as your tits grew too big to fit inside them, and too heavy for you to comfortably walk around. Going without a bra just meant ruining all your new pregnancy tops as your breast kept leaking all day long.

One time, you were just finishing cleaning the table, only to notice recent droplets of opaque liquid seemingly appearing from thin air, always returning no matter how many times you bend over the table to wipe them. Only once you passed by a mirror and glimpsed your completely drenched top did you realise the cause.

The deeper into your pregnancy months you reached, the harder and harder it became to think and function. Everything ached. Everything was sore. You are constantly wet in some shape or form. Be it your tits leaking milk in the middle of the night, or your needy cunt ruining your nice panties with silky wetness because your libido shot through the roof overnight.

It was all too much, you just needed to be taken care of.

Sitting on your husband's lap, emptying your swollen tits in his mouth as he sucked and nursed against you. Mewling out as he spreads your pussy with another finger, thumb still abusing your clit to no end.

Allowing you to completely turn off your brain, no more overthinking. Muffling the mess of hormones nagging you with absurd thoughts, driving you up the wall with the intense waves of emotions that constantly wash over you.

You're glowing. Your husband would constantly whisper against your skin, littering every inch of you in kisses, worshipping your whole body at the end of each night. Driving all the bad thoughts away and reminding you of just how radiant you are, how mesmerising your silhouette is.

He loses his track of thoughts sometimes because he stares at you a little too long and forgets what he was going to say, enraptured by your beauty and sweetness.

Minutes blur into each other, and two fingers become three. Your body sprawled across the bed, a pillow under your hips for comfort, another under your shoulders and head.

Your husband is kneeling over you, bowed legs with claw-like feet. Careful not to scratch your soft human skin.

Now properly emptied of all milk you could give, sucked dry to the last droplet. You can't help but feel proud of yourself for doing so well, proud of your body for producing so much milk, for feeding the man you love most with it so he may be strong and healthy.

The thought of your milk inside his stomach right now is so satisfying, as equally parts endearing. He must be so full and sated with your milk. Now you wonder if there was a point to the lunch you cooked after all.

Your chest feels tremendously lighter, albeit your nipples are extremely sore, puffy with a deep hue. So sensitive, even to the simple air brushing against them.

He really nursed to his heart's content.

His cock's been throbbing in the confines of his clothes. All this time, he's been neglecting it for the sake of overindulging in your body.

You might have ruined the man beyond repair, causing him an irreversible oral fixation. Licking his lips, he's still not satisfied, eyes drifting lower between your spread legs.

Lowering his body down the bed until the heat of your cunt is inches away from his face. Looking over the mess he's made out of your soaked pussy, keeping you at the edge for so long... he knows it's cruel, but can you blame him for wanting to drink your cum as well?

He was too busy with your milk. He didn't want this to go to waste. Now, he'll more than make it up to you.

Hungry mouth latching onto your clit just like he did to your nipples, nursing against the sensitive thing, swirling it with his tongue. Bringing you endless waves of pleasure, as he takes in the sounds you make, only serving to motivate him further.

Not that he did need any motivation in the first place, from the way he's lapping at your cunt without shame, groaning in delight at its taste.

His last thread of self-restraint snaps, hand moves between his own legs, practically wrestling his cock out from his pants.

You only get a glimpse from this position, but fuck, is it pretty. It's such a crime for a man to have such a pretty looking cock, even his pre-cum is a sheen rose blush tint. Sometimes. The quarians feel too unrealistic for this world, even for aliens.

And despite all of his apparent beauty, you've reduced him to a feral man, desperate to drown himself in your cunt as he fists his cock harshly. Your husband is a needy mess, tugging as his cock in frustration, smearing pre-cum over his hand.

He's so close, he's so close but he can't, he won't cum. Not without the taste of your cum down his throat, he outright refuses.

Pretty moans spilling from his lips, a vibrating undertone to them that just feels heavily against your pussy as he drives his tongue further inside you. Thumbing at your clit, kissing and making out with your wet hole, completely beyond the point of no return. Even if the world was ending he wouldn't move an inch away from your cunt.

Your moans, the sinful sounds you're making, they'll be his demise.

He needs you to cum, he's desperate.

His free hand stretches forward, gently taking hold of your round belly. That brings a hitch into your breath, he takes it as a good sign.

Soothingly rubbing circles around it, tracing the tips of his fingers alongside your stretch marks. A sensual experience that'd appear romantic and sweet to onlookers, wasn't it for the obscene sight of him eating out your pussy just down below, the shameless sounds of his moaning and sucking against your cunt, of the wetness he swallows.

You can't see his eyes with your swollen stomach in the way, left to helplessly lay there after you fed him all your milk, only to have your pussy eaten out next.

The orgasm has been building up very slowly ever since his finger first flicked your clit, simmering at low heat, gradually increasing in intensity. You're ever sure you had a mini-orgasm along the way somewhere, but you're not about to let him know.

Instead, you relish in the feeling of utter bliss this slowburn climax brings. It wasn't electrifying, nor like a bullet shooting through you.

No, it's intense like a ripple in the ocean, a wave so steady and silent as it approaches the shore. An impending pleasure that you've seen and anticipated from a mile away, less explosive with its instant gratification, and more akin to a heavy embrace, engulfing all of your being, fulfilling your every need. The kind of orgasms that leave you feeling whole afterwards, with a relaxed mellow demeanour rather than an overwhelmed spent mess.

And he gets to drink it all up, suffocate himself between your thighs as you go through the motions of climax. Leaving him both pussydrunk and milkdrunk, tugging at his leaking cock, rubbing the swollen pretty purple head. the aftertaste of your cum fresh on his tongue, while the warmth of your milk still sits in his stomach.

He's overwhelmed by your love through and through. Shiny eyes and bitten lips, he can't suppress his embarrassing cries any longer as he melts into a puddle between your thighs, burying his head into the doughy fat of your inner thigh as if it's his comfort plushie.

Stripes of adorable milky pink escape his cock, pretty lips shiny as he cums his brains out. Still fucking and grinding into his own fist. Your name at the tip of his tongue in between the choked moans, your face on his mind, your innocent human eyes, your whole angelic being is only further driving him into depravity.

He opens his tightly shut eyes.

He's alone in his room.

In the safe confines of his bed's sterile field. His environmental suit discarded outside the bubble, set on disinfecting mode.

The waves of the orgasm have passed. Slowy stroking his pulsing cock to relish in the aftermath, milking the very last droplets of rosy cum from it.

A content sigh leaves him.

He should really throw his sheets in the washer before they stain. The whole room reeks of sex... well, not that humans can really pick up on the scent of quarian cum. Last time you caught him sneaking to the laundry room in the middle of sleeping hours, ruined sheets in hand, you complimented his choice of "detergent" and said it's adorable that he prefers flowery fragrances.

Yeah... flowery fragrances. He didn't have the heart to tell you it was his spilled semen on those very same unwashed sheets you were innocently sniffing, thinking they just came fresh out of the wash cycle.

On the other hand, this really explains the uncomfortable feeling he'd get whenever passing by a human-owned flower shop on the Citadel.

He'd like to pretend that he's a better man, that his brain wasn't immediately flooded with shady ideas that take advantage of this new information, lewd at best, and immorally perverse at worst.

But he isn't a better man. He's not the gentle, thoughtful, and badass husband in his own fantasies.

He's even quite mid in his own species' terms of attractiveness. Yet you claim he is the epitome of beauty. Complimenting his galaxy-like dark skin, claiming his eyes rival the stars.

A cynical part of his mind tells him you only think that because he's the only quarian you've seen up close without an environmental suit, courtesy of your "kissing practice" days together to boost his immune system.

If you only knew what lurked underneath that delicate beauty. What degenerate thoughts brewed behind those iridescent eyes.

Sometimes, he takes advantage of your nativity, or more accurately, you let him get away with things that you wouldn't let slide for a human male.

You don't question his wandering hand; he's just a cute curious alien. You don't try to cover yourself after bumping into him while you're fresh out of the shower, even when the tantalisingly short towel you're wearing starts peeling off your body.

You can't see where his eyes are staring at from behind that helmet, the way they're completely focused on that peaking colour underneath the seam of your towel, where you have it loosely wrapped around your squished boobs, a hard nipple threatening to peak through while you're not the wiser, busy talking to him about some human work drama.

Normally, he is very invested in anything you have to say, but right now, he can't hear a single word.

You don't bat an eye when his hands immediately move to the upper edge of your towel, fingers catching the fabric before it completely gives out. His face burning a darker hue underneath his tinted helmet, trembling fingers as he fixes your towel for you, sparing your dignity.

As tempting as it was, a sight to behold that'll be etched into his brain for eternity. He really didn't want you to catch a cold. So he stepped over his own heart (and semi-hard cock) and ushered you to go dry off in your own room.

As sturdy and healthy humans have proven to be in comparison to his own kind, he still can't help but fuss over you, panic whenever you get a papercut, check on you every hour when you fall ill with a fever no matter what risk it puts him at.

He can only dream of having someone as healthy and capable as you carrying his children. Oh, how your body would nurture them. It's the perfect one for him and his seed.

You're just so capable and cool, so full of life and energy... he wants his kids to be like you. To have your milky looking human eyes, your earthly toned skin, this weird fur-thing you call hair. Even that he grew to adore with time.

Alas. Reality is calling. He will clean himself before leaving his room, finding you in the shared common room being chummy with the other aliens, because that's just how you humans are.

Your stomach is neither round nor swollen...

Your chest is the same size it's always been...

And he'll go over and say hi, like he always does. And you'll ask how his health has been faring, if there is anything you can do...

If the lessons have been helping.

And he'll answer yes with a chipper tone, voice slightly distorted by the filter of his helmet.

And the salarian and asari sitting on the opposite couch will give him that knowing side glance, because they know the truth, how much of a bullshit excuse these lessons are to make out with you.

But they'll say nothing. The asari would rather keep her trump card close to her chest until he has something she wants, and the salarian prefers to mind his own business, although he won't go through the effort of lying or if you directly asked him about the effect of the lessons.