By requesting you're not guaranteed to get a fic/response i am doing this for free; i have the right to refuse any request for literally any reason
BE DETAILED AND LONG WINDED!!! Write me war and peace in the ask box! The more details the better!!!!!
note; i cant be assed to use my laptop; so i write/ format on mobile
Fandoms will vary as my moods to write them do
No minors no antis
Request anything; if i dont like it i simply wont write it. Unless specified in my FANDOM SECTIONS
Fem/Gender Neutral reader only for ease of writing purposes
I work full time, have MDD and am busy on weekends for the most part; a request might sit for a long time before i get to it.
I'll add more rules as i think of them
Rottmnt, TMNT 03, 07, Bayverse Rules:
I WILL WRITE:
NSFW, Gore, Emetophillia, sick fics, omorashi (maybe), angst, 3 ways between reader and two turtles any combination (the 3 ways can get Tcesty at your request), pregnancy, oviposition, survival Horror,
(Basically anything that isnt in the will not section)
I WILL NOT WRITE:
Tmnt 2012 (ive not watched it)
Mutant/yokai readers (human turtle fuckers only its my personal preference), scat,
Do not request any characters other than the 4 turtles ( i know them best)
Platonic relationships w reader
Yandere (it bores me)
(I'll add more if they come up)
OTHER FANDOMS
Please just send in a request for these i don't have as specific rules for them unless listed below; if i like the request i'll get to it
No Yandere
No Platonic only
AUs are welcome if well explained or known by myself
Undertale (sans)
My Hero Academia (Keigo Tamaki/Hawks, Dabi) -side note Any BKDK ship requests as well
One Piece, Live Action and Anime (Buggy The Clown, Sanji, Zoro, Portgas D. Ace, Sabo, Brook, Koby (anime only for now))
Sugar Apple Fairy Tale (Jonas, maybe Mithril)
Attack on Titan (Marco Bodt, Jean, Bert)
Black Butler (Sebastian Michaelis, Ciel Phantomhive) DISCLAIMER any involving Ciel will be posted on AO3 and will be problematic in nature.
Lupin III ( Jigen, Lupin)
TADC (Jax)
Pokemon (Submas)
Love and Deepspace : Caleb ; Rafayel (my faves; and yall know im a freak so don't be shy for Caleb.)
caleb love's giving you deep, messy creampies, heâs just finished fucking you senseless, dumping his entire load inside your throbbing pussy. the air in the room is heavy and damp, thick with the scent of your shared sweat and the sharp, salty sweet smell of his cum dripping out of you.
his hands touching you with a restless, possessive energy. he squeezes the soft curve of your waist before sliding his palms up to cup your soft plump breasts, kneading the aching flesh. his thumbs drag repeatedly over your swollen and bruised nipples until youâre whimpering and squirming under him.
"still so sensitive," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. he shifts, bracing himself on his elbows to look down at you. his eyes are dark and heavy, tracking the way your chest heaves while your pussy throbs around his semi hard cock.
he begins to withdraw, but he makes the movement agonizingly slow. he retreats millimeter by millimeter, letting you feel every ridge of his cock and the slick friction of it sliding against your perfectly filled pussy. the sensation makes your hips twitch involuntarily, your internal wall muscles clenching desperately around his cock as he leaves you.
he pauses when heâs halfway out, his eyes dropping to the point where youâre joined. he waits for the ripples of your orgasm to settle, and then, with a deliberate, wet tug, he slides the rest of the way out. the sound of the wet seal breaking is loud in the quiet room.
caleb doesn't pull away. instead, he hooks his fingers under your thighs and spreads your legs even wider, pinning your knees toward your shoulders. the cool air hitting your stretched, aching pussy makes you shiver violently.
"look at that," he whispers, his gaze fixed on you. the thick, white cream he just pumped into you is already starting to pool at your opening. it looks so stark against your flushed skin, a heavy, pearly globule beginning to lose its battle with gravity as it overflows.
you feel the first hot drip of his cum slide over your taint and down to your ass. the sensation is ticklish and so humiliatingly public under his intense stare. you quickly bring your hands up to cover your face, your cheeks burning from the heat of it all.
"don't hide," he says, though he doesn't pull your hands away. he uses one hand to spread your lips further, exposing the way his hot seed is overflowing from your depths. it pulses out in a slow, viscous stream, coating your skin in a thick layer of white.
he watches it intently, his thumb tracing the path of the drip as it runs down. "itâs so much..." he notes, his voice thick with pride. "your still so full of me."
you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to swallow the small, embarrassed sounds catching in your throat. you can feel the wetness soaking into the sheets beneath you. every time you try to hold it in, more of his load seems to spill out, hot and heavy.
"try to push a little more out for me, baby," he urges softly. his thumb brush against your clitoris, a light, teasing touch that makes your pussy ache. "i want to see how much i filled you up."
you let out a shaky breath, your abdominal muscles bracing as you do what he asks. a fresh surge of his cum escapes, a thick rope of it sliding out all at once and spilling onto the sheets. you can't help but moan into your palms from the sensation.
he loves this part just as much helping you bathe and cleaning his hot cum out of your pussy after heâs had his way with you.
he carries you to the bathroom, the water already steaming in the tub. he settles you into the nice warm water, the heat stinging pleasantly against your sensitized skin. he sits down behind you, pulling you back against his chest as the water begins to turn cloudy from the mess between your legs.
he reaches between your thighs, pushing them apart so he can get a good look at you. he gently rubs your lips, cleaning the outside with fingers slick with soap and water. then, he slowly slides one of his long fingers deep inside you. making you gasp, your hands gripping his forearm as you feel his finger searching within your hot, wet walls.
he moves his finger in a slow, hooked motion, dragging the remaining seed out of you. the sensation is blunt and full, a deep pressure that makes your toes curl under the water. he does it again and again, meticulous and patient, ensuring he clears every bit of his slickness out of you and savoring the feeling and the way it makes you squirm.
between each stroke, he presses soft, wet kisses to your shoulder and the nape of your neck. his breath is warm against your damp skin. "almost clean," he murmurs, his finger swirling inside your pussy one last time before he finally withdraws it.
you lean your head back against his shoulder, exhausted and tingling. while he holds you gently, his hands resting protectively over your stomach, just feeling the rhythm of your heart while you finally begin to settle.
The door slamming behind you interrupts Caleb as he works on his model plane. You flop down on the couch next to him.
âEverything okay pips?â He looks at you in concern. âDid something happen at work?â
You simply nod before you hug him and bury yourself against his shoulder. Caleb rubs soothing circles on your back. âIs there anything you want to make you feel better?â
âYeahâ you look at him teary eyed âTake off your shirt.â
âWhat?â
âTake off your shirt.â Caleb grabs your wrist to stop you from pulling off his shirt.
âCaleb please I had such a stressful day at workâ you plead.
He sighs, he really canât say no to you and takes off his shirt. You immediately wrap yourself around him and place your face right between his pecs. The stress seemed to instantly melt away.
âAre you feeling better pips?â You mumbled a yes. Your hands were squeezing his pecs. âGlad I cloud help.â
Okay so. The Romans think that sex doesn't count as real sex unless Someone Is Getting Penetrated By A Dick Or Dick-Adjacent Object. Very sort of dick-centric system.
So Latin has six words for "to fuck", divided into three pairs: one pair for each of the possible Holes (ass, mouth, pussy). In each pair there is a word for topping and a word for bottoming.
Most people who know a little about Latin fuck verbs know 'pedicare' and 'irrumare' from the first line of Catullus 16 (PÄdÄ«cÄbĆ ego vĆs et irrumÄbĆ), which is a poem about saying "absolutely shut the fuck up and piss all the way off" to fandom antis and purity police who are making repulsive accusations about you personally, based on things they're reading into your work from a bad-faith perspective. Catullus was so real for that and it's incredibly endearing to me that he was dealing with the same thing we are still dealing with. I got a hater in my askbox doing this about The Wisdom of Emperors just the other day, but I took the high road and, unlike Catullus, did not tell them "I will assfuck you and I will facefuck you"
So here sort of a chart about the verbs:
Topping | Bottoming
Mouth: irrumare | fellare
Ass: pedicare | cevere
Cunt: futuere | crisare
Another fun fact related to the fuck verbs was that the Romans didn't think about sexual orientation in terms of who you're attracted to, they thought about it in terms of "which is your favorite hole and what do you like to do with it." So you'll get graffiti (ancient roman subtweeting) about things like "Marcus is a fututor [cunt-fucker] and a pedico [ass-fucker] but omg girlies I also heard he's a fellator [cock-sucker] đđđđ" In the modern day we'd just call him bisexual, but in Ancient Rome it is not enough to know if someone is bisexual (they think it's kind of perverted if a man only fucks women, like do you have some kind of freaky pussy fetish???? you've never once even fucked a twink??? dat's gay, bro. gay to not be bi), you also have to know if he's being bisexual in a respectable sort of way
You will notice that pussy-eating is not on this list, because those words do not mean "to fuck", they translate more directly to just "pussy-licking" (cunnilingus), and because the Romans are sexist as all hell and think that's gross and filthy anyway. This is not ONLY because of pussy terror, it's also that the mouth is the most sacred part of the body -- so eating pussy or sucking a dick is actually considered slightly more "shameful" than getting fucked in the ass. (Please note as well that the fuck verbs are gender neutral -- if you're a roman man and your girlfriend owns a strap-on, she can [pedicare] you. but be careful because your sworn enemy in the forum will have a fucking FIELD DAY if he hears about that and will write a Mean Poem about you or subtweet you on a public wall)
The moral of this story is that the Ancient Romans were absolutely *GAGGING* for social media (see Martial's Epigrams, aka My Best Tweets), and the second moral of this story is that if this was a fun post for you, you should look at my kickstarter for alllllll of this kind of nonsense in the form of A Fantasy Novel That's Pretending To Be An Academic Paper With A Fake Bibliography And Foonotes aka The Wisdom of Emperors. And please signal boost this so everyone can know about Latin Fuck Verbs and Roman Subtweeting, we've really learned so much here together
zombie apocalypse sex with protective caleb after a near-death experience
cw: mention of potential sa and just generally feeling like prey during the near-death experience portion of this. typical apocalyptic violence outside of that.
It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.
Safety lets you forget.
And thenâwhen it inevitably all it all goes to shit againâyou remember.
"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your directionâtoo many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another moaning monster down.
It goes against every instinct you haveâto leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.
You drag the door of the huge shipping container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the monsters. It would be if it weren't for Caleb. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.
One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.
One is fine. You can handle one.
Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on your brother. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.
You kick the monster you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.
Locking it is another story.
You have no hope of accomplishing that.
Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Caleb keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.
Then one gets shot down. Caleb helping you from a distance is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Mindless moaning monsters you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.
They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Caleb anymore. He's either dead or hiding.
Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.
You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.
âWhat the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!â
Any second now... any second they'd find the only person you loved and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.
"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.
You hold your breath.
"Well, check it out then!" another commands.
Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.
You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the moaning dead are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Caleb would be watching... waiting. A predator in the shadows. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.
"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of sight, using the edge of the container as a shield, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking," he adds.
You know what'll happened when they find you. It's a predictable evil. You're prey to people like themâsomething to hunt and occupy their time with in a world without the threat of consequence.
Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.
"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage. It's not hard to pull off considering the genuine fear wracking your body. It helps your performance. Make them drop their guard. Small. Afraid. Unthreatening. Alone. "I'mâI'm unarmed."
They hesitate. The barrels on their guns start to lower.
Then a bright light blinds you.
"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims.
Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"
There it was: little thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Caleb more time.
"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.
You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Caleb was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something. You repeat it to yourself like a prayer.
You just had to stay alive.
"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.
You get muffled laughter in response.
Their guards are down. They're distracted.
"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."
Their flashlights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.
Five. You count five. If you kill two...
"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's youngerâprobably still a childâa little less distracted.
The rest ignore him.
Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. Their hands send a wave of repulsion through you as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their slimy touch feels against your skin.
The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.
"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm growls, impatient.
"Butâ"
"Now."
His eyes narrow, but then he steps asideâhis back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of monsters, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.
Then, only a few steps laterâyou're pulled to a halt. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."
You blink away the burn of sudden emotion threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...
The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry undead. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."
There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.
But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?
You were dying tonight if Caleb was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...
Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.
You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all. A heavy weight sits in your chest, reaching it's hands out towards you, like the monsters in the pit: doubt.
The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol, and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.
Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.
You were nothing. Prey.
The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the forehead before he can get hands on his own weapon.
The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though. Those moments with an enemy weapon pointed directly at you always do.
But then Caleb is there, strangling the man from behind with the body of a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck that you spot the bodies behind him: eliminated during your own attack.
He'd been waiting for you. If he attacked before you were ready, they'd use you against him. So he'd waited until the exact moment you'd shot the first one under the chin.
You watch him stand, hair hanging in his eyes and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.
Then his purple eyes are on you.
Then his hands.
Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky. His fingers struggle to secure your hair back behind your ear, trembling.
You nod.
"You did so good," he soothes, that familiar comforting voice easing you back into your own body. "You were perfect." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point before it rests at your clavicle. "We need to leave," he says, finally steadying his own breathing. "Stay close to me."
âââââ
The first time after is always the sameâafter you're forced to remember how close death is. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legsâto the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.
His long, thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you. A protective warmth.
"You like that, sweetheart?" His lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. It falls down around his neck at the back, a messy wolf-cut that you hack at with a knife when it gets long enough to bother him. "You're so soft for me... dripping all over me... welcoming me in. You did so good today... so perfect..."
You offer a small whine in response, squirming a little.
He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entranceâa teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your twitchy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.
"It's alright," he soothes. "You need me here? Inside?"
"Mm," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."
His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the groundâcushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely with his huge body, a living blanket shielding you from all the world's dangers.
"I'm sorry they put their hands on you." His breath warms your skin, and he sounds pained.
"I'm not hurt," you remind him, again.
"Shouldn't have let them touch you."
You'd been through this before. More times than you could count. He would torture himself in the days after this. Perfection was all he ever accepted from himself, and arguing would get you nowhere.
So you reach blindly to find his wrist and grip it firmly. "Hold me tight," you whisper into his ear.
His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas. Another apology.
Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he always knows.
He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waistâsecure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on youâlike he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.
Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.
"Won't let anyone touch you again," he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. "Never."
The loss of his hand on you is temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he buried himself deepâas soon as his cock was guided safely inside your dripping cunt.
You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.
Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I've got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats.
He mumbles it over and over as he teasesâplays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink as he guides his tip over your twitchy hole and through your lips over and over.... and over... until you forget everything but the feeling of him against you and all the desperate need building up inside.
Then, eventually, he presses inside. Just the tip... and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.
This is when he gives you a little taste of his actual strength. The strength he used to keep you safe every single day. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his thick arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.
He keeps you there, just with a teasing sample of that fullnessâof having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he orders, simple and a little croaky.
You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's wet and messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily.
His lips chase yours as you attempt to catch your breath. One kiss to your swollen lower lip as you pant. Then he licks at the drool glistening across your chin.
His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck with a whimper.
And then, without warning, he pulls you down to meet his leaking cockâto fuck himself deep. It's sudden, and it's all forceful strength, exactly like you need itâexactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his shoulder as he keeps you there, stuffed fullâthe thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.
Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voiceâlike he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.
You nod weakly in response.
His fingers press into your skin a little more, a silent warning moments before he's movingâfucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his powerful thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.
He's got you.
He attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear as you jostle against him. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... it's okay... you're okay..."
One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better gripâor just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hardânever hurting.
"My pretty girl." He holds you down against him, buried to the hilt, and grinds up into you with a roll of his hips. "My pretty little baby... fu-fuck... keep you safe."
It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips, lifts them up, and tugs you onto himâeach thrust a vulgar slapping of skin that punches a helpless sound from your lungs.
Strength.
You watch the muscles in his arms move as he uses you, moving you against him like you weigh nothing at all. His calloused fingers dig almost painfully into your hips. He's all power and murderous protection, and you feel it all as he drives himself through your walls again and again.
He falls over you when he finally floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fallâthick, sweaty arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lungfuls of air. "I've got you."
if hiphop weren't real its existence would sound like an exceptionally heavy-handed metaphor about racism from a really cringe didactic fantasy novel. yeah the racialized underclass in this society, the one that's constantly derided by the ethnic majority as stupid and anti-intellectual, they have a complex artistic tradition based around improvisational poetry which is sometimes enacted on a competitive basis for dispute resolution. you get judged based on the subtlety of your wordplay and the complexity of your internal rhyme schemes. the dominant group periodically gets mad about how this doesn't count as real art like their own objectively more simplistic music and poetry because sometimes it has swears in it
they were only a little achy. it always happened a week or two before your period. you'd only mentioned it once. he'd noticed your discomfort and asked directly, but that was all it took. every month, he'd slip his hands under your shirt and offer to help make it all better. that was what he'd always done, after all: look after you.
greed disguised and twisted up in all his signature generosity, he takes your tits in each of his large, warm hands and mutters soothing words of comfort. attentive and familiar and safe. "it's alright, gege always takes care of you when you're sick, hm?"
sometimes he liked you in his lap, sometimes he'd press you onto your back on the carpet. this time, he rolls you onto your side, lifts one of your legs over his waist, and pulls you to his mouth.
it's a depraved mess of spit and muffled groans as he licks and suckles at you. his warm tongue slips over your nipple in quick little flicks, then firmly across your whole areola in long swipes. over and over he laps at you, occasionally looking up at you through the hair that falls over his face.
he holds you against him with a hand to your back, possessive and insatiable. and when your soft skin is glistening prettily with his spit, he latches on and sucks at you like he's trying to draw milkâsenses consumed with all that slick heat and the wet smacking sounds his mouth makes each time he releases and reattaches.
he soothes you with licks, gentle kisses and massaging hands between all his greedy suckling. and when you squirm, he grips your hip and guides you into an undulating roll against him, controlled enough to allow his continued ministrations. "this is gege's job," he mumbles around you, the vibrations forcing you into an arch and further into his mouth.
some people think this is a shitpost so i want to clarify that i am dead fucking serious. make mage the official gender neutral honorific NOW. i want it on my passport. i want it on my bank account. i want doctors and judges to use it for me. i don't care if it sounds a little silly. people thought "missus" sounded crass at first. call me mg.
I had to find this from somewhere and reblog it again because I work at a high school summer camp and told the kids to call me Mg. Day during our first day programming today.
They went NUTS for it! Not only did they love it, but there was an immediate click in understanding about they/them pronouns *from the entire cohort* that I havenât experienced in 3 years of programming.
And linking it back to the root words Mister and Missus as OP so wonderfully provided helped establish that using they/them or neopronouns isnât just playing around or âMiss but differentâ the way it can be with Mx. I used to try to go by Teacher Day because I was still getting she/herâd all the time but that also came with the problems of the students only being able to see me in the role of Teacher and being intimidated by the educational institution and their grades (I donât even work for the school Iâm external staff I donât even have WiFi access). And Iâd still get she/herâd all the time.
As soon as I introduced Magister they saw that a nonbinary person could be an Adult with a *societal* role outside the binary. It was immediately visible in their ecstatic faces. And I didnât get misgendered today.
The only downside is Iâm gonna have to practice my card tricks because I did promise I could do magic!
đ ϱ sum. teaching nerd caleb how to make out with a twist! cw : mdni, making out, caleb cums in his pants.
â ah⊠youâre really bad at this, yknow?â
â well, it is my first time kissing someone.â
a sentence that made your body lock up. you pull back from his face with lightning speed, eyes wide as saucers. â you never kissed anyone before?â
caleb⊠was different from other men youâve met before. despite being the campusâ golden boy, he doesnât jump at every party heâs invited to, nor does he flirt with any and every girl who bats her eyes at himâ unexpected from a man being crowned the hottest boy on campus. more often than not he has his nose buried in whatever book feeding him information about airplanes or bugs, keeping to himself around people and only speaking when spoken to, even around his friend group. for some reason.
so how youâre currently situated on your bed while making out the dorkiest man alive is a great wonder.
â should i be weirdly honored that youâre surprised?â he swiftly quips, a feeble excuse as his eyes pinpoint every detail in your room to avoid making eye contact with you after his embarrassing confession. god, you always knew caleb had some sort of charming, virgin air surrounding him as he would talk your ear off about plane models, hidden or not.
but, you never knew you would be teaching a grown man how to make out.
â no, itâs just that i thought i would be getting eaten out instead of teaching someone how to kiss. but here we are nowâŠâ unceremoniously, you move quickly to plop yourself onto his lap. safe to say those grey sweats he wears to almost every class barely do him any justiceâ has caleb always been so toned? on top of him you can feel his firm thighs supporting your weight, albeit tense, as his broad arms are still hanging by his side. youâre going to enjoy this more than youâd like to admit. â pay attention, âm only teaching you once. youâre a fast learner; you can handle it, yeah?â
pathetically, he nods. big purple boba eyes stare at you beneath his eyelashes.
â first things first: donât be so awkward. touch me.â grabbing at his noticeably larger hands, you guide them to slide down your waist, chuckling softly as the blush deepens on his face. your gaze then travels to his slightly chapped lips, feeling the skin with your thumb as his body subtly shudders. applying more force, you pull his lips apart. â âm gonna lead; just follow me.â
starting off slow, your glossed lips touched his chapped ones. your hands move from his lower face, hooking around the back of his neck to pull him more into a kiss, provoking a shuddered groan from the brown haired man. something dark bubbled in your core as his hands stayed put on your waist while he followed back your slow kisses with hesitation on his endâ you had an irresistible urge to corrupt him.
the more you pull back, the more the kiss deepens. once hesitant hands clutch the back of your head, keeping you still from momentarily pulling back as his hands travel lower until theyâre resting on your hips, damn near touching your ass.
experimenting, you roll your hips, clothed sex grinding against his bulging hardness when suddenly he breaks from the kiss with a shuddering cry.
â f-fuuuck!â
â whatâŠâ you stare at the man in bewilderment as his body lurches forward, head dropping on your shoulder as the grip on your hips tightens until it almost hurts. you donât get it. it was only a couple kisses; why is he acting like he⊠came. â no fucking way, caleb. did you just cum? i didnât even get to add tongue yet!â
I don't have plot other than electric stimulation to collect semen; not that reader would need it anyway; or be willing to sell your precious Bulls spend; its all for you after all.
(smutty thoughts incoming, you've been warned, use of 'Gege', 18+ only, MDNI)
Caleb needs direct eye contact with you to cum.
It's why missionary is one of his favorite positionsâsame with you riding him. Any way he can fuck you while staring at your pretty face, he is in heaven.
Bent over, doggy style? He needs a mirror in front of you so he doesn't miss a single parting of your lips as you moan, so he can drink down the way you go cross-eyed when he ruts into you. No mirror? You bet he's threading his fingers in your hair to twist your head around as much as is comfortable so he can at least see the side of your fucked-out expression.
Sometimes, you get shy and try to look away or close your eyes. Who could blame you? Those violet gemstone eyes were overwhelming, ethereal, sometimes just a little uncanny. But Caleb does not tolerate it.
"Open your eyes, sweet girl," he coos in that soft, soothing voice he likes to use on you, though there's nothing soothing at all about how he hammers his dick inside you. It's feral, brutal, claiming. "Look at me."
You try to resist, keeping your eyes squeezed shut, the feelings all too intense and overstimulating. You're so close, and you know that once he makes you cum, the sounds he'll pull out of you are just embarassing. You can't bear to see how he looks at you in those moments. The thought of eye contact makes you whimper, which makes him chuckle.
"Aww, don't be shy, pips. Do it f'me?" he slurs out, his pace unrelenting. "I want to see those pretty eyes. My pretty, sweet baby girl. Open them up."
And of course, you can't resist him for long. Sure, you like to be a brat and disobey him sometimesâbut when he's nine inches deep inside your dripping cunt, when he's using that babytalk on you, you're a pathetic mess, putty in his hands.
Your eyes open, and you meet his gaze, blushing.
His cock gives a shuddering pulse inside you as you do as he says, and the guttural groan he makes is your second warning that he's close, too.
"There she is," he says, practically purring. You can feel that rushing tide of ecstasy about to crest as he picks up his pace. "That's a good girl. I'm gonna cum now, okay, sweet thing? Wanna make Gege happy and cum, too? Right on my cock?"
You nod, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he tsks, tsks.
"Open, baby, keep them open." There's just enough of a warning in his voice that you do as he says. "Let me look at you while I cum."
So you focus on keeping your eyes open then, your cheeks scalding. He's unblinking, his lips parted, his breaths coming out short and fast, his pupils dilating into blackholes that pull you in, in, inâ
You don't know who cums first; maybe him, maybe you, maybe it was both of you at the same time. Whatever the case may be, your walls are clenching and pulsating around his girth, dripping and milking him as he spurts out burst after burst of his hot cum against your cervix. His hoarse groans harmonize with your thready whimpers, and not once does he look away or even blink. Your sight goes fuzzy as you go cross-eyed again, lost to pleasure, but you keep your eyes open, letting him see just how much his cock takes control of you.
In these brief moments, you feel connected in every way humanly possible. Your warm breaths twining together, your hearts beating the same rhythm, his fingers laced with yours as he holds you down, his cock making you his from the inside out, and your gazes locked together like there was nothing else worth looking at in this entire damn universe.
