Chapter Text
God, please, if you're real, strike me down right now, Anon thought to himself as Fang continued to cackle merrily at his expense.
“Hooooooly shit dude, you've been holding out the good stuff on me,” they snickered, turning the magazine in their clutch sideways to peer at the centerfold. Anon, being the idiot he was, left his “bedroom” unattended for a few minutes, and his partner decided to immediately raid it. Lo and behold, she found the porn mag crammed inside his bed, and was having a grand time with it.
“What's the matter, Anon? Do you think Miss Icarus would want you to feel shame about cranking one out to her form?” Fang asked mockingly, holding the magazine over her face so the model looked back at him. The stunning form of the blue ptero, once a source of pleasure for Anon, was now a source of mockery and belittlement.
Still hot though.
“Yes yes, I get it, I'm a weirdo loser for wanting to jerk off every so often,” he moaned, trying to snatch the magazine back from his girlfriend, who kept moving it back and forth out of reach.
“Oh, dude, you're a total weirdo loser, but not for this. When the hell did you buy this anyways? There isn't a porn shop in Volcaldera for miles. None of them go to Skin Row cause they kept getting robbed.”
“...How do you know that?”
Fang shot Anon a deadpan look.
“In case you forgot, dweeb, my Dad is the commissioner. I know shit about crime that goes down in this city.” After a moment, she started snickering, before blowing into full out laughter. “Just like how it's a crime that you have been hiding out on me. What else you got? Raptors? Ceratops?” Fang gasped, leaning in conspiratorially.
“I bet you got a brachio one. You like long necks, don't you, Anon?”
No, just pteros, he thought to himself. Although… judging by the look of stunned silence on Fangs face, maybe that thought was less quiet than he expected it to be.
“I… look I got it back when I was in Rock Bottom, okay? It was back before I even knew you.” This did NOT help, cause now Fang was flushing red.
“So, what, you've been jerking it to wing-girls for the past few years?” Fang play pouted, laying back on the bed. “And here I thought I won you over from your racist ways. So sad.”
“One. I'm not racist,” anymore. Fang still snorted and rolled their eyes.
“Two, I haven't… fuck are you gonna make me say this?” In response, the ptero grinned ear to ear, raising one eyebrow.
“Fuck it. Fine. I haven't used it since I started falling for you anyways. Just throw it in the trash or something.”
More silence. Anon glanced over, his face finally cooling down slightly, and saw that his ptero gee eff was looking at the (slightly used) copy of Feather Fiends clutched in her hands. They twisted slightly, and her face flushed as she waltzed to her bag and crammed it in.
“I have a camera I use for polaroids,” she got out, eyes glancing away from her human boyfriend. “Expect some new photos from me soon.”
Anon blinked a few times, absolutely dumbfounded. “I… well honestly the Miss Icarus ones are the b-”
“Stop talking while you're ahead.”
“Yes ma'am.”