simon 'ghost' riley x reader in which !reader makes him better in bed. because chances are? he's probably not great, no matter what we all like to collectively think. but he can be taught. and reader is not suffering through mediocre sex (promise).
for all the times you'd heard ghost fucking through your shared barracks wall you thought he'd be at least okay in bed.
wrong.
turns out all those whimpers and moans you'd heard from his… partners were award winning acting on their parts. if they ever needed a new job, porn would be more than happy to have them.
because now, with ghost’s body hovering over yours after a few too many drinks at the pub off base, all you can think is “christ, this shit is terrible”.
okay there's a modicum of effort there. it's not like he didn't try to prep you - if a few kitten licks of your clit and some fingering so bad you feel like you're fifteen and behind the bike sheds again could be counted as prep.
you hoped the penetrative sex would be better. his cock was beautiful - thick but not long enough to feel like it was spearing your diaphragm, curved in a way that meant the head of it dragged over the squishy spot on the front wall of your cunt that made your breath hitch - but no. he’s fucking you like a dog; erratic, rhythmless and sloppy.
you can't even bring yourself to fake a moan. you're just lying there almost limp, mind wandering to all the other things you could be doing with your time rather than suffering through less than mediocre sex.
when he snakes his hand between you to rub your clit - trying, at least - you finally snap.
“fucking hell simon, not like that. are you trying to friction burn my clit off, you complete prick?” you hiss at him, shoving your palms into his chest to get him to back off.
he looks shocked. like no one has ever called him out for his lack of sexual prowess before.
“wha’?” he sounds genuinely confused, “the fuck love? thought you were enjoyin’ yourself.”
he slides out of you with a slick pop, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. you roll your eyes. “what gave you the idea i was enjoying myself, ghost? my utter silence?” it's dry, deadpan.
he looks halfway between dejected and pissed. like no one has ever even hinted that he's anything less than jaw dropping in the sack.
“well ge’ the fuck out of my bed then.” he snaps, defences immediately in place. you roll your eyes again at the fragile masculinity, completely unperturbed by the tension in his voice.
“nah.” you reply, eyes narrowing. “lie the fuck down. i'm gonna do you a fucking favour and show you where you're going wrong.”
so that's how you end up straddling him, hands on his broad chest as you grind down against him; not letting him slip inside yet.
“first of all? fucking ask what people like ghost.” you murmur, throwing your head back and whining as the ridge of his head catches your clit. “some of us like it rough. some soft. just…ask.” you grind against him again, his cock slipping through your now slick folds, “and for the love of christ don't ever just choke someone without asking. last guy who tried that with me ended up with a broken nose.”
ghost nods slightly, eyes flicking between your very serious face and the way you're simply using him to get yourself off.
“if you're eating someone out - get the fuck up in there. make out with their cunt. little flicks of your tongue are just… tickly.” you add thoughtfully, slipping a hand between you to guide his throbbing head to your entrance. “and if you're using your fingers? don't just fucking ram them up there, that shit is just painful. have a bit of technique to it - some people like a crook, some prefer more of an in and out. communicate ghost. and i know you can do that because you're pretty fucking clear over comms.”
he actually groans when you sink down onto him, head tipping back against the headboard; brown eyes fluttering shut.
you flick him in the forehead. hard.
his eyes slam back open, wide and vaguely shocked at your audacity.
“pay attention.” you snap out, as you take him all the way to the base, clit rubbing against the wiry blonde hairs on his pelvis as you move your hips in little circles. “look, i’ve got a rhythm, right?” you add, shifting from your knees to your toes. “i’m not just moving, i’m purposeful.”
you demonstrate with controlled bounces, dragging your walls up and down his length, chasing the pleasure he couldn't give you himself.
“righ’, righ’.” he mutters back, “so wha’ was i doin’?”
you level him with a look that would turn a lesser man to a crying pile on the floor. “you were fucking me like we were in a shitty porn film. no rhythm. no consideration. just… poking at my insides.”
ghost actually blushes slightly. he has the sense to look vaguely embarrassed under your glare.
“and don't get me wrong - there are people that like that. probably. but I'm not one of them.” you continue, unbothered. “so find a rhythm that works for both of you.”
you demonstrate again, a controlled movement that has you both gasping slightly; cunt clenching onto him for dear life as he drags through your walls.
you lean forward, changing the angle slightly, dropping your forehead to his and whining against his mouth. “see? that's what someone sounds like when they're actually having fun, simon. can you hear the difference?”
and ghost hates to admit it, but he can. he can hear the real pleasure in your noises in comparison to the breathy, high pitched whimpers he usually gets. “yeah. yeah. can ‘ear it love.”
“you try.” it's an order rather than a suggestion, body stilling on top of him. his hands find your waist, fingers digging into the flesh there as he bucks up once, tentatively - immediately reassured when you let out a low groan. so he does it again. and again. settling into a rhythm that has you both gasping.
“tha’ better?” and this time he doesn't sound disgruntled, he sounds almost hopeful.
“mm, much better simon.” you grin at him, catching his lower lip between your teeth just to hear the way his breath catches in his throat. “just keep doing that. same pace, same depth.”
so he does. he's good at following clear, specific instructions - not that you expected any different.
you keep your chest pressed against his, face tucked in his neck whilst he fucks up into you; letting the feeling wash over you now it's actually good.
“i need you to play with my clit if i'm gonna cum.” you murmur into his ear, dragging one of his hands between you. “use two fingers to spread the pressure. firm but not fast.” you demonstrate for a moment, hand guiding his until you're sure he's got it. and oh. turns out with guidance ghost can be good in bed. “oh - fuck - okay ghost, keep doing that.”
and he does. he moves exactly as you've told him to - deep, steady thrusts of his cock inside you as the pads of his fingers circle your clit.
“fuck - yer gettin’ tighter love. fuckin' squeezin’ the life outta me. am not gonna last. the fuck?” he manages to hiss out just as you tumble over the edge he's dragged you to with a low moan; forehead dropping to his again as you gasp into his mouth. it's a wave that starts at your cunt and travels up your thighs and stomach, rippling through your nervous system as you go rigid on top of him before just melting into a puddle of flesh shaped like a human being.
ghost tips over the edge right after, hips stuttering as he spills into your still fluttering cunt with a hiss of your name and a flick of his brown eyes into his skull.
there's nothing but trembling breaths for a moment, no sound other than the two of you coming down from a shared high.
when you're settled next to him, arm slung over his waist as he rests his chin on the top of your head he takes a deep breath, before asking almost hesitantly, “why was yer cunt doin’ that? squeezin' me?”
you sigh, glancing up at him. “congratulations simon, you've just given someone an orgasm. apparently for the first time.”
the expression on his face is priceless.
there's a beat of silence and then, “can… can we do tha’ again? for the… practice.”
Now imagine Argonaut Octopus hybrid!soap who doesn't think to tell you how mating works for him...
Well, you were aware vaguely that hybrids could have wildly different genitalia, but nothing could have prepared you for soap unzipping his trousers and a fucking tentacle slithering out.
"What the hell is that?!" You gape, then cringe upon realizing gaping at a hybrids dick because it doesn't look like a humans is probably rude "uhm. I mean– uh..."
"Ach, don't worry, dove," soap chuckles. You're sure he's giving you a reassuring expression, but your eyes ar glued to the way his tentacle–dick writhes and wiggles on it's own. "It's just my cock, hectocotylus, technically."
"...won't the uh– the cups get...stuck?" You mumble, face burning. An odd feeling of anxiety and anticipation rolling in your stomach. Soap is big.
"Nah, I can control them." Soap assures. He pulls the rest of his clothes off, tentacle still twitching, as if searching for you. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about this before, seeing soap use his normal tentacles around base. Those long, slithering appendages–
"It has a mind of it's own, curious too, but it'll be nice." Soap interrupts your thoughts, and you only then realize that he's knelt between your spread thighs, absently stroking his cock.
"o‐okay." You nod, propping yourself up on your elbows because you have to see this.
He gently guides the tentacle towards your entrance. True to soaps word, it rubs it's tip all along your thighs and around your entrance, exploring, but once the tip just barely dips in, it puts all it's effort into getting inside.
"Oh! Ah– wow– that's–" you stutter, unable to express how odd it all feels. The tentacle writhes and squirms into you, aided by soap adding more lube and pressing his hips forward. "Ooohhh my god–"
"Fuck– yer tight–" soap looks just as affected as you, brows pinched as he pushes and pushes until his pelvis meets your ass. Even as soap's frozen to try and let you adjust, the tentacle continues to move. At times doubling back on itself and making you keen at the stretch.
"Holy shit– I'm gonna–" you gasp, embarrassed at cumming so fast when soap hasn't even fucked you properly–
"Christ– me too–" not ten seconds after you, soap is gasping, fingers digging into your skin as warmth fills you up.
All the while, the tentacle slowly twitches and wiggles, the fact it slowed down at all is a small mercy. With a grunt, soap pulls away and–
–And his cock doesn't come out.
But...but he is definitely beside you now. And the tentacle is definitely in you.
"Uh– johnny?? Did...did your dick fall off?!" You yelp, reaching down between your legs and holy shit it's still there.
"Whoah! Hey, calm down! It's normal!" Johnny sits up, hand shooting down to grab your wrist where you were about to pull it out. "I'm fine. It's just like losing my other tentacles, you remember, yeah? Doesn't even hurt because it's designed to come off."
"...oh." you lie back down, calmer. "That's weird–!"
Suddenly, the tentacle, the very much detached tentacle, begins to squirm and writhe again. You gasp, back arching in shock and overstimulation. Soap isn't freaking out, so you assume it's normal. God– it seems to know exactly where to press and rub, suction cups abusing that sweet spot inside you–
"Holy shit– johnny–" you keen, turning to tuck your face into his neck with a shuddering sob. Finally, the tentacle begins to spill more warm liquid into you "johnny– it's– it's–"
"Aye, I know, I know." Soap soothes, rubbing your back as you whine "it's normal, does that for a bit. To uh...make sure it sticks."
You groan, orgasm rolling over you, and pull away just far enough to look soap in the eyes "Christ, for how long?"
Soap looks suddenly, very guilty "...uhm. a few hours?"
Simon who can only concentrate on tasks like watching your favourite movie by having something to do with his fingers...
He pulls you into his lap and massages your clit with the pad of his thumb, brushing your hair as you nod your head into the crevice of his neck and shoulder. He has you held wide open and on display, panties fully off now.
Once in awhile he'll make a subtle comment about the movie, about how its silly or unrealistic but naturally you can respond as he speeds his fingers up while he talks.
Occasionally he'll dip his finger into your hole, giving you a couple nice, deep strokes with them before going back to the clit. He has no pattern to the way he touches you, he's honestly just fidgeting and if you could still say anything, you'd tell him not to expect this everytime he gets a little fidgety.
You've cum once, twice, now three times total, and Simon just keeps on going. You whine in his ear, nearly sounding like your in pain as you squirm around. He honestly can tell if your trying to get closer or further away.
"Honey you're drowning out the movie." He might say nonchalantly, as if he doesn't realize what he's doing. Maybe he really doesn't, because once the movies over and he's made you cum a total of five times, and he slips his hands away from you, he frowns as you shiver and he looks at your state.
Tears streaming down your cheeks as your body still twitched slightly. You curled inwards onto yourself as Simon rearranged the two of you. He tried to sit you up on his knee but you cried out, the jeans too rough for your sensitive bud.
"Aw fuck sweet'art im sorry." Was the only thing he could say as he carried you carefully to a bath, the widest grin on his face.
He was most definitely doing this EVERYTIME he gets a little fidgety
Yeah 4 asks is enough to pressure me into being a freak, but y'all should not be encouraging my depravity. The shame I feel, so I'm keeping this tamer than- no actually I'm gonna be a freak about this. Once again I am not going to heaven.
You're filled with hot, viscous, come as you orgasm on Threat's cock. The warmth of it seeps into you, tingles through your muscles, and makes your head spin. Your eyes roll, your back arches, you feel like you've been pushed to the edge again with no idea how you got there.
Threat sighs over you, their head dropping against their chest as they rock their hard cock into your pussy. They're muttering something, mumbling to themselves like they didn't just come in you. Their cock twitches, and they give a hard jerking thrust into you, bumping that aching soft spot deep inside you. There's a sharp tight feeling, something giving way to them, and you whimper, clawing at their shoulders for purchase as they keep pushing into you. You're just starting to blink the tears out of your eyes when their hand settles around your throat, their claws tearing into the sheets under you. They give a testing thrust and you grab their wrist.
Their cock drags against something entirely alien to you, hot and painful but somehow numb and tingling. You feel something thick against your entrance when they pull back, never leaving you clenching cunt. It bumps against you, stretching your hole, just a little more with each grind of Threat's cock. You try to breathe through it but that strange aching warmth won't let you do more than gasp. The bump pops into your pussy and you almost come right there, feeling it nestle against your g-spot and just press, press, press. The tightness of it zips through you, twisting the knot in your stomach as you feel it moving against your gummy walls.
You moan and Threat chuckles over you, grinds their cock against you again so you feel a second bump nudging your entrance. You whine, you can't get your brain to spark with anything but pleasure. You don't know what's happening, don't know if you want to, but you know you want more of it. Threat's teeth are sharp and dripping when you look up at them, their tongue darts out to drag along their lip before they smile, cooing down at you, "Feel good?" You nod, pout when their grip on your neck tightens, as if you'd go anywhere. "Eggs slut," They lean closer, lick their tongue against yours as you pant, feeling the next bump pop inside, "you're always begging us to breed you, so I'm going to fill you full."
Eggs. Your breath hitches, your cunt already stretched around two of them with a third attempting to make room for itself. Threat hums, pityingly, as your brows draw together, your cunt clenching around the eggs the seem perfectly suited to rub against every sensitive nook in your pussy. You jolt as the first one presses against that stinging, achy, spot, and you feel more come release into you, making your stomach tingle before a soft weight settles in you. You can't help the moan that slips past your lips, the soft succor of panic drowned by pleasure. Eggs, plural. The understanding alone makes you come, the egg already settled in your womb just adds to the shaking desperation of it.
Threat holds you down with a firm hand on your neck, hooks their other arm under your knee and holds it up to thrust into you, forcing the third egg in alongside its sibling. Christ. You sob, shivering and shaking with each roll of it against your sweet spot. There's no need to tug on your tethers to make you ride out your orgasm a second time, not with the way Threat's eggs drag against your poor cunt.
You get through two more squirting orgasms on four more eggs, each one sliding into your abused cunt easier than the last. You shudder at each added weight in your stomach. It's not much, but it's noticeable, and your stomach clenches, your cunt fluttering with excitement at each one added to the clutch. Fuck, you- shit- your eyes roll back as the last one slips into you with another burst of that warm fluid. Goosebumps rush over your skin, and Threat's hand leaves your throat to tease their claws against your clit.
You swallow, your hips bucking to follow the rub of their fingers as the claws melt into something a little softer. You tilt your head forwards to look at yourself. Your stomach is bigger, not by much, but enough for you to notice. You can almost feel your partner smiling over you, they're certainly quick to pull you up to settle on your knees, the shift in your posture also shifting the eggs cradled inside you. You moan at the feeling, your breath hitching as you look at your full tummy.
"Look at that," Threat's hand rubs over your stomach, "they'll feel even better coming out, granted we keep Soap away from you." You meet their gaze with a look of confusion, and their smile turns mirthful. "Wouldn't want him to fertilize the clutch, and keep us from doing this again, would we?"
Yeah 4 asks is enough to pressure me into being a freak, but y'all should not be encouraging my depravity. The shame I feel, so I'm keeping this tamer than- no actually I'm gonna be a freak about this. Once again I am not going to heaven.
You're filled with hot, viscous, come as you orgasm on Threat's cock. The warmth of it seeps into you, tingles through your muscles, and makes your head spin. Your eyes roll, your back arches, you feel like you've been pushed to the edge again with no idea how you got there.
Threat sighs over you, their head dropping against their chest as they rock their hard cock into your pussy. They're muttering something, mumbling to themselves like they didn't just come in you. Their cock twitches, and they give a hard jerking thrust into you, bumping that aching soft spot deep inside you. There's a sharp tight feeling, something giving way to them, and you whimper, clawing at their shoulders for purchase as they keep pushing into you. You're just starting to blink the tears out of your eyes when their hand settles around your throat, their claws tearing into the sheets under you. They give a testing thrust and you grab their wrist.
Their cock drags against something entirely alien to you, hot and painful but somehow numb and tingling. You feel something thick against your entrance when they pull back, never leaving you clenching cunt. It bumps against you, stretching your hole, just a little more with each grind of Threat's cock. You try to breathe through it but that strange aching warmth won't let you do more than gasp. The bump pops into your pussy and you almost come right there, feeling it nestle against your g-spot and just press, press, press. The tightness of it zips through you, twisting the knot in your stomach as you feel it moving against your gummy walls.
You moan and Threat chuckles over you, grinds their cock against you again so you feel a second bump nudging your entrance. You whine, you can't get your brain to spark with anything but pleasure. You don't know what's happening, don't know if you want to, but you know you want more of it. Threat's teeth are sharp and dripping when you look up at them, their tongue darts out to drag along their lip before they smile, cooing down at you, "Feel good?" You nod, pout when their grip on your neck tightens, as if you'd go anywhere. "Eggs slut," They lean closer, lick their tongue against yours as you pant, feeling the next bump pop inside, "you're always begging us to breed you, so I'm going to fill you full."
Eggs. Your breath hitches, your cunt already stretched around two of them with a third attempting to make room for itself. Threat hums, pityingly, as your brows draw together, your cunt clenching around the eggs the seem perfectly suited to rub against every sensitive nook in your pussy. You jolt as the first one presses against that stinging, achy, spot, and you feel more come release into you, making your stomach tingle before a soft weight settles in you. You can't help the moan that slips past your lips, the soft succor of panic drowned by pleasure. Eggs, plural. The understanding alone makes you come, the egg already settled in your womb just adds to the shaking desperation of it.
Threat holds you down with a firm hand on your neck, hooks their other arm under your knee and holds it up to thrust into you, forcing the third egg in alongside its sibling. Christ. You sob, shivering and shaking with each roll of it against your sweet spot. There's no need to tug on your tethers to make you ride out your orgasm a second time, not with the way Threat's eggs drag against your poor cunt.
You get through two more squirting orgasms on four more eggs, each one sliding into your abused cunt easier than the last. You shudder at each added weight in your stomach. It's not much, but it's noticeable, and your stomach clenches, your cunt fluttering with excitement at each one added to the clutch. Fuck, you- shit- your eyes roll back as the last one slips into you with another burst of that warm fluid. Goosebumps rush over your skin, and Threat's hand leaves your throat to tease their claws against your clit.
You swallow, your hips bucking to follow the rub of their fingers as the claws melt into something a little softer. You tilt your head forwards to look at yourself. Your stomach is bigger, not by much, but enough for you to notice. You can almost feel your partner smiling over you, they're certainly quick to pull you up to settle on your knees, the shift in your posture also shifting the eggs cradled inside you. You moan at the feeling, your breath hitching as you look at your full tummy.
"Look at that," Threat's hand rubs over your stomach, "they'll feel even better coming out, granted we keep Soap away from you." You meet their gaze with a look of confusion, and their smile turns mirthful. "Wouldn't want him to fertilize the clutch, and keep us from doing this again, would we?"
Masochist!gaz who doesn't even realize he's into pain before you.
He brings you into his bed expecting this to be like every night. To rail you into the matress until you're both sweaty and exhausted.
"C'mon, lovie, you're doing great–" Gaz prides himself in making sure you're thoroughly satisfied before he gets off.
Which is why it's so embarrassing when, in the middle of him thrusting into you, you dig your nails into his back and practically claw at the muscle.
"Oh! Ohhh– oh god–" his hips stutter, head falling forward with a shaky groan. Pain sparks along kyles back, so intense it feels more euphoric than pleasure.
"...Holy shit, kyle." You gasp under him, frozen in shock while his cock still twitches inside you. He freezes too, terrified he just put you off, but you only grin.
...then drag your nails in with purpose. Kyle's whole body shakes, hips twitching foreward even when his cock obviously can't keep up, twitching pathetically.
"Fuuuck– love– I can't, don't stop–" he whines, pulling out to spill his leaky, translucent cum onto your stomach. You've never seen kyle this desperate before.
Erotic/Fantasy short. A student suffers a penalty (or reward?) for getting the lowest exam scores.
Rated E, 7.5k, cis M/trans M. Melos the minotaur and Razin Calhoun, with a little from Doctor Albright. The next subject after Academic Incentive.
Also on Patreon / Medium / SubscribeStar / Ao3
Lots of magical world building and transmasc affirmation followed by come inflation, rough sex, objectification, size difference, a bit of anal play alongside majority vaginal penetration, gangbang implication.
---
Razin is out in the corridor at the very crown of the morning when Doctor Albright’s teaching assistant pins the tables to the noticeboard outside of his office. The sun is beginning to crest the horizon, and streaks of golden light are coming in through the window and casting across the paper as he traces the lines of the table.
He’d known it was a risk, taking the Channelling and Concentration module in the first place. He’s never been a particularly magically powerful man, has never been able to channel a great deal of magic through his body on a whim – his course advisor, Doctor Neres, had arched one of his eyebrows when he’d seen the selection on his list.
“You’re not a particularly strong mage, Mr Calhoun,” he’d said bluntly. “You’re a very capable enchanter, and you’re quite impressively talented for your age, but Doctor Albright’s course is not examined on the strength of your runic literacy or ability to write enchantment scripts. Those skills will certainly aid you, but what this course calls for is to channel magic yourself.”
“I know,” Razin had told him, leaning forward and pressing his knees together, biting the inside of his lip. “But even if I never learn to do heavy-duty channelling myself, I need the education and the practical knowledge this course will give me. I want to go into responsive warding.”
“You are aware of the penalties incurrent for low performance in Doctor Albright’s classes, hm? Students of the Dawn Academy are not permitted outside romantic or sexual relationships without prior dispensation, that you not be distracted from your studies, and Albright has devised penalty and reward in one. In Albright’s class, Mr Calhoun, if you are the lowest performer in his exam hall, you will be expected to provide sexual service to your betters, and make no mistake, they will make use of that privilege.”
“I know,” Razin had said, quieter this time. “You think I’ll definitely be the worst student?”
“Not definitely,” Neres had said, wrinkling his nose. “But certainly, I would expect you to be in the lowest echelon of exam scorers, and I think in taking this class, you are more likely than not to be on the lowest rung at least once, if not multiple times.”
“Mm,” Razin had grunted.
“This is acceptable to you? You are aware of the ramifications?”
“Mm hmm.”
“Very well,” Neres had said, and marked his approval on the course selection.
Now, Razin can barely breathe as he keeps his finger on the paper on the board, tracing every neatly printed name.
He’s not in the top ten – he’d known he wouldn’t be.
He’s not in the top fifty.
He’s not in the top one-hundred.
His stomach sinks as his gaze traces down each column of the table, and with every name he passes by that isn’t his, he knows in his heart of hearts where exactly his name is, but he still keeps tracing down each column, one by one. He gets to the last row.
137. Jolen Lavin
138. Corbin Hent
139. Razin Calhoun
His name is highlighted in pink.
He almost can’t breathe for a moment, staring at his name on the absolute end of the exam ranking, and he looks to the first entry on the list, which reads 1. Stephik Loven.
Doctor Albright had said, when he’d had Loven be the demonstration for the rest of the class, that Loven was a better student than most of the rest of them, that they’d never see him in that position again.
It had been fucking Evens, looking snidely at Razin, who had asked what happened if a man scored the lowest on his exams twice in a row. Evens was on the same dormitory floor as Razin, had been watching him practice spells and channelling exercises time and time again.
Just a week ago, he’d leaned over Razin as he’d washed his hands, shirtless, before the sink, and murmured in his ear, “You might not be able to fit much magic in you, Calhoun, but we’re sure as fuck going to fill you with cock.” Razin’s heart had fluttered and he’d felt flushed and giddy and horny and so, so humiliated, so frustrated.
“Um, Master Youn?” he asks hurriedly as Albright’s assistant comes back out into the corridor – she’s a tall, severe woman with sharp points on her ears, and he has to drop his gaze to keep from staring into her eyes and seeing the lake she grew up alongside, becoming hypnotised again by its waters. All of the students at the Dawn Academy are men – like Doctor Neres, Master Youn does the bulk of her research at the Dusk University on the other side of the city.
“Mm?”
“Is Doctor Albright in his office?”
Youn rolls her eyes and turns away from him. “You’re Calhoun, I guess,” she mutters as she walks off down the corridor, and doesn’t bother to answer the question.
Razin knocks on Albright’s office door.
“Good morning, Mr Calhoun,” Albright calls from inside his office, not sounding remotely surprised. “Why don’t you come in?”
Razin takes the doorknob in hand and turns it, stepping inside through the crack and very hurriedly closing the door behind him after making sure no one else is in the corridor with him. Albright is leaning his chin on his palm, his elbow rested on his desk, and his eyes are half-closed as he pages idly through a book.
He’s a handsome man at the best of times, has a sort of wiry attractiveness to him, a natural grace where he walks and a haughtiness that makes him seem extra unapproachable. Normally, he has his hair up in a bun, but now it’s messy and allowed to fall around his shoulders in loose, sleepy tresses – he looks more like a prince in a storybook than a university professor.
His pupils, which are always super small, look even more so up-close like this, and as Razin approaches his desk he can see every tiny fleck of colour in Albright’s unusually large irises even without his eyes being fully open, can see the grey that makes up the bulk of them, the bright green flecks and softer brown ones that are scattered through it.
His pupils flicker up, landing on Razin’s face, his expression completely blank, revealing nothing.
“Um, Doctor Albright,” Razin says, “I have, uh, I have a problem…”
“You signed your academic contract, Mr Calhoun. If you didn’t want to be in this position, you ought have considered your capacity and its limits.”
“Oh, no, Doctor Albright, I—”
“No ifs, ands, or buts, Mr Calhoun.”
“But I’ve never…” He trails off, not knowing what to say, how to say it, and Doctor Albright’s cool expression falters just slightly.
Sighing, he asks, “You’re a virgin, are you, Calhoun? As yet untried and untested?”
“Yeah.”
“And what do you want me to do about it, be the first to fuck you?”
“No thank you,” says Razin, and he must say it slightly too quickly, because Albright actually looks slightly offended before he schools his expression again.
In a cultivatedly neutral tone, as inexpressive as his face is, he says, “You were aware of the terms of this course upon your enrolment, young man. It’s rather late to be wanting to back out – in the event you’d like to leave the course, that is your right, but you will have to make up the missing credits with another course, and this late in the quarter—”
“I don’t want to drop out,” Razin says hurriedly, and Albright’s eyes meet his for a moment before he very slowly leans back in his seat. He reaches back and sweeps a few strands of hair behind his ear, and the movement makes Razin aware in the moment of how strong but delicate his wrists are, that his hands are.
Every man in the university, it seems to Razin, knows very well what sort of man they are and how they like to look, like to move. Some of them are tended toward women only, or to men only: most are in between; some of them are manly in more elfish ways, are magically strong, have a deceptive strength in their delicacy of movement, and despite being human, Albright is one of these; others are manly in more human ways, are solid and bluntly made, care for honour and responsibility; others still are bigger, stronger.
There is no one way to be a man, he knows that. There’s no one way to be a human man or an elfish one, or even an orcish one or something else entirely – end to end of the continent he grew up on, he knows that there would be as many sorts of men as there are women, as there are other people entirely, as there are puzzles or tools or pieces of music. End to end on this one, not that he’s seen much of it, he knows it’s different again.
He just wishes he knew what sort of man he was, how he was meant to move in this body of his, how he was meant to be.
“I, um, I was, a, um…”
Albright stares at him, one eyebrow slowly raising.
“I was a girl,” says Razin, swallows down a gulp of air. “Before. I was a… My mother said I couldn’t, um, I couldn’t make the change until I was old enough to lea— she always wanted daughters, only daughters, and she was angry that I’m, and she said that I couldn’t, while I was under her roof, I cou— but then I got accepted, here, and on a scholarship, and so I went to the, to the fleshturners at the Temple of Ianus, and they helped me, um, they changed what I… But I’ve never.”
“You’ve never…?” Albright prompts him smoothly, and Razin swallows again, and Albright seems to understand. “Ah, I see. This isn’t merely your virginity, it’s all of it, hm?”
“Yeah.”
“Mr Calhoun, I did mention in my initial introduction – you’re hardly the only young man here possessed of the same physicality. Regardless of what your mother said, her attitude, there’s nothing wrong with you, nor to be ashamed of. You’re here, out from under her hand, a more than capable student – and you’re performing well on your scholarship.”
“Except in your class.”
“Doctor Neres and I discussed it upon your enrolment in the module – some young men simply lack the magical capacity others do. Believe it or not, being a sexual subject to your betters will likely improve your channelling ability. I can count on one hand the number of young men who have occupied your position more than once, and every single one of them enjoyed the position, and sabotaged their own performances to ensure they retained it.”
Razin feels himself blink, and he takes a few steps forward, resting his hands on the back of the chair across from Doctor Albright’s desk.
“Really?” he asks, mystified.
“Semen, particularly from an active mage, does carry some small amount of magical energy, and consuming or carrying it will aid your own ability to channel power, yes. Even were you having sex with only one man of any particular power, it would make a difference over time – being the subject of several dozen young men, each and every one of them a more potent mage than yourself, it won’t have an immediate impact, but I would expect a change in your performance.”
“How much?” Razin asks, feeling excitement thrum under his skin. Even the fleshturners, when working on him, had remarked that he had what they called thin magical veins, that it made his body a little more resistant to what they were doing to him, the changes they were making to his form. “How much will I… I’ll be able to channel more magic, I’ll be able to…?”
“You won’t shoot to the top of the leaderboard, but you’ll improve, yes,” Albright says. “With your enchantment ability, I would expect you to move up the board by five or ten places.”
Razin feels his heart sink again. Five to ten places on the exam board is an improvement on his score, will mean he won’t be in this position again, but he’s seen the others trying to channel magic, Lavin and Hent, and Rosal and Law and Rickman, all the lower scorers like him, and none of them are any more impressive than he is, and Rosal, he’s pretty sure, took the course partly because he wanted the lowest rung, wanted to be the module’s designated fucktoy.
“Does that soothe you?” Albright asks.
“I don’t, I, um, I can’t—”
“Gods, boy, spit it out.”
“I can’t do a contraceptive charm,” Razin blurts out, and Albright stares at him. “I, um, my body, because I don’t, because I don’t channel magic very well, and where I grew up, they don’t, and I’m slightly magic re— resistant, and so I don’t have enough power to—”
“Why ever didn’t you say so earlier?” Albright asks, shaking his head as he gets to his feet and walks around his desk. “Stand up straight, arms out— This won’t hurt, but you’ll feel a sort of thrum.”
“Thank you,” Razin mumbles.
“Your mother was wrong to treat you the way she did, young man,” says Albright as he gathers magic between his palms, and Razin stares down at the glowing golden threads as he builds them thicker, stronger. Albright’s voice is quiet and surprisingly gentle. “I’m sorry you were treated that way – I’m very glad you’re with us now.”
“Thank you, sir,” says Razin, and then grunts at the tingle through his middle as Albright casts the charm, tingles through his belly, then outward, feels warm.
“There are other men like you amongst the student body,” Albright says again as he pulls back, then rests one hand on his hip and looks down at Razin, his head cocked to one side. “Men who were girls or women; men who’ve always been men, but have full chests or a cunt between their legs; men who will, no doubt, one day go on from this place and become women themselves.”
“Yes,” Razin says. There’s a prickle of shame down his spine, a faint anxiety, but Albright doesn’t look angry with him – his voice is actually surprisingly gentle, warmer than he’s ever heard it. He’s never been so close to the man as he is right now, he doesn’t think – Albright doesn’t invigilate his own exams, and Razin sits in the middle rows of all his lecture halls, never too close to the front or too far at the back.
“You’re from Beletia?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No men like you there?”
“Not really. We’re so close to two Dimmed Kingdoms – there’s a sense in Beletia people shouldn’t be transformed or changed with magic, that we should be as the gods made us. Most of my family fish, and they sail out over the Onyx Sea.”
He watches the shift in Doctor Albright’s expression, the way his perfect brows furrow, and he looks at Razin seriously.
“Beneath the Onyx Sea, as over the broader expanse of the Black Ocean, are huge deposits of lassium – stone that blocks and absorbs magical flows and currents,” he says, and Razin nods. “Those are dangerous waters to traverse for any magic user or any magical species – it’s no wonder you have such thin magical veins, why you’re so naturally resistant to magic.”
“I had to go over the border to Lin, to the Temple of Ianus,” Razin says quietly. “Ianusian worship isn’t permitted in Beletia.”
“How did you come to Alexia?”
“I sailed.”
“On one of the stone boats?”
“Yes.”
Albright laughs faintly, seeming surprised, and then he says, “To go back to Beletia, you know, you likely won’t be able to sail back the same way. You’ve been actively using magic this past term, and your ability to do so will only grow with time. The more you use magic, the more you foster it inside you, the more your body will accustom to its presence, incorporate it into its processes – and the greater the shock you’ll experience in the event you’re exposed to lassiate materials, and the magic is abruptly sapped from you.”
Doctor Neres had told him that when he’d met Razin coming off the ship at harbour – he hadn’t known exactly why, hadn’t asked that much as to how lassium worked, but Neres had explained that the more magic he used and was exposed to, the more dangerous it would be to sail back the same way.
“I don’t want to go back,” Razin says.
“They don’t deserve you,” Albright tells him, and Razin ducks his head, embarrassed again for reasons he can’t define – Albright chuckles softly. “It’s very difficult to leave the attitudes one was born and raised in behind you. I grew up in Merryweather in Dumas – and then my late husband, he was an orc.”
“During the war?”
“After. My family disowned me – then again, so did the king.”
Razin stares at him, not taking it in for a second. “The king?” he repeats.
“I was a member of King Raúl’s retinue, once upon a time – one of his court wizards. On an expedition through Palatia, I met Gunnar, once a soldier, taking refuge there. I fell in love with him – I received word halfway back home that I wouldn’t be welcome. We too ended up leaving the Six Kingdoms, and that was when I took up my teaching post here at Dusk. We couldn’t take a stone boat, of course – we had to traverse around the lassium trenches.”
“I’m sorry,” Razin says. “That that… happened.”
“Gunnar and I were very happy here,” Albright murmurs. “And he was well-loved and respected in his post. My widower’s grief aside, I remain rather happy now – I wouldn’t give up the years I had with him for my provincial family or the approval of a bastard king.”
This time when Albright gives him a small, encouraging smile, Razin smiles faintly back, and Albright pats his cheek.
“Enjoy yourself,” the older man tells him. “Take all the pleasure you wish want for from this arrangement, and know what else it’s giving you.”
“Yes, sir,” Razin says, and steps out into the corridor, closing Albright’s office door behind him.
“I’ve been looking for you,” says a rumbling voice before him, and as a hand almost big enough to wrap around Razin’s middle claps down on his shoulder, Razin lets out a breathless noise and goes still. He’s rooted to the spot, his eyes wide as dinnerplates as he looks up into the face of Melos, who’d travelled up to Alexia from all the way down south in Mirian.
He’s a huge man, and because of his anatomy, his shoulders so much thicker with muscle than any of the humans or elves at the Dusk Academy, or even the orcs or the one dryad boy who has flowers all over his bark-like skin, his uniform robe is modified. He wears it hung off of one shoulder, pinned in place with a golden brooch in the shape of a honeybee, and the other shoulder is bare – very close to Razin’s face, he can see Melos’ heavy pecs, fat with meat.
One is covered by the fabric of his robe and the other is mostly overflowing from its bounds, and with each of Melos’ breaths, he can see it move. It looks as big and as heavy as Razin’s own head, and Razin has to prevent himself from touching his tongue to his lower lip, forcing it to stay inside his mouth, caged behind his teeth.
Melos is the first minotaur to ever study at the Dusk Academy – he’d been raised at the central Temple of Virilis in Mirian, and they’d had to make special accommodations for him, like giving him a dormitory room of his own with a high enough ceiling that his horns won’t catch on the rafters, and a huge bed that can withstand his weight. He exudes a hypnotising scent that seems to cling to the brown fur that covers his body from the tip of his horns down to his feet, and his eyes are the colour of honey.
Razin stares up and into them, speechless, barely able even to breathe.
“You struggle with channelling magic, don’t you, Calhoun?” he asks in a rumble as he nudges Razin up the corridor, and Razin wordlessly goes where Melos is pushing him. His thumb, which is probably the same as some men on the course’s entire cocks, is stroking up and down the top of his spine, and the pleasant but firm pressure is sending tingles down Razin’s spine.
He's starting to get wet, his cunt throbbing between his legs, and he wonders what it is, if it’s just that he finds Melos so fucking attractive, if it’s the scent of him, if it’s how big he is, if it’s fear.
“I, um, I,” Razin stammers out. “Doctor, Doctor Albright said—”
“You can’t really be shy about it,” says Melos. “We both know your place on the exam board.” His laugh comes from deep in his chest – he’s older than Razin and quite a lot of the younger students in the course, must be in his thirties.
“You’re going to fuck me?” Razin asks in a whisper.
“Oh, yes. As a favour to you.”
“A favour? Melos, your cock is probably as big around as my thigh!”
“As your waist, I’d bet,” Melos corrects him modestly, and Razin actually feels slightly faint.
“That won’t fit, I’ve never even— You’ll rupture me!”
“Fear not, my magically challenged friend, I’ve potions to make sure you don’t rupture, and a few spells to ease the way. When you grow to be as big as me, you learn to make room to fit in other men’s holes.”
“Make room?” Razin repeats, uncomprehending, unable to take the slight indignation out of his voice. “You can’t… I don’t know that it’s an issue of capacity—”
“No, it won’t be,” Melos agrees. “Especially not with me helping you.”
“Help,” Razin mutters under his breath. “I know I’m… I don’t have a problem with, with fucking people, but if someone’s going to go first, I don’t think it should be you. You’re too big, I’m too small, it’s—”
“You are small, aren’t you?” Melos asks, not without satisfaction warm in his voice. Razin can feel his heartbeat in his cock, can feel the rush of his blood under his skin, flowing downward – he’s not been this wet since months ago when he’d been watching Doctor Albright demonstrate on Stephik Loven how the students were meant to prepare an arse for fucking.
He’s not dared to touch himself in the dormitories, has never been able to keep himself very quiet when getting himself off. Most of the others aren’t nearly so shy – now and then he’ll turn over in the night and hear someone in the next cell moaning into their pillows as they touch themselves, or hear them grunting, their bedframes creaking, as they thrust down against the mattress.
“Calm down, little man, calm,” says Melos, and there’s something in his tone that makes Razin feel genuinely calmer. Is that magic? Maybe. It’s the same as his scent, maybe, naturally intoxicating.
“But—”
"My spend will bloat you, little man. Balloon that trim little belly of yours – and I'm potent in more ways than one, as a chosen of Virilis. I'll be pumping pure magic into you, and it will spur on your own."
Razin thinks about what Doctor Albright had said to him, about how semen will help him channel magic, about how that’s part of the purpose of this little program in the first place.
“More so than another man’s?” he asks.
“Oh, far more so,” Melos confirms without hesitation. “You saw my name on the exam board, I’m sure – my name was only a few marks below the top. I have never studied this manner of magic before, I can tell you, and I lack both your focus and runic literacy. As you suffered in your practical examinations from a lack of magical capacity, I excelled in mine only as a result of my own exaggerated capacity. A capacity I’m more than happy to share with you before any of my fellows can have a go.”
“Why should I believe your spend is more potent than anyone else’s?”
“Why would I lie? I’m entitled to fuck any hole of yours I please, so long as I do you no damage or distract you from your studies.”
“You’d give me that? Why?”
“My balls ache,” Melos says, nudging Razin up the stairs, and Razin begins to make his way up them. He jumps a little when Melos’ hand lands on his arse and rubs at him through the fabric of his robes, feels for the globes of each of his cheeks and squeezes them as he tries not to stumble on the stone stairs. “I don’t much touch myself – my emission is too significant, makes too much of a mess without a vessel to contain it. But apart from that, you’re a student too, hm? Where I might share my magical potency with you, perhaps you’ll share your methods of study with me.”
Vessel.
The word makes his head spin a little, makes him feel now like he’s so wet he’s dripping. The fleshturners had offered to change that as well, if he wanted, to turn his cunt inside out and make it into a cock, turn his ovaries over to churning out sperm instead of letting loose their eggs, or just to lengthen the cock he has so that it was big enough to grip at, squeeze, sink inside someone.
He hadn’t been certain, had wanted his chest flat and his face changed, his voice deepened, and they’d even been able to give him an extra inch and a half of height, although it had hurt where the rest had only tingled and throbbed – but his cunt? He hadn’t wanted it gone.
“Take it for a ride or two first,” one of the priests had said mildly. “You can always change it later.”
Vessel. Being a vessel for cock, for Melos’ cock, for every cock in his course that wants him, a vessel for use, to be used, filled, ruined.
“You’re a weak mage compared to the rest of us,” Melos says. “My spend will help your power grow, spur it on.”
“I’m not a weak mage,” hisses Razin.
“Have you fucked many men before?” asks Melos, ignoring him.
“None.”
Melos hesitates, and Razin glances back at him on the stairs, at his expression. “None?” he repeats.
“Well, um… No.”
“Walk faster,” Melos advises in a rumble, speeding his own movement on the stairs, and Razin feels like a fire has been lit under his skin as he near-well jogs up the last of the flight and goes into Melos’ bedroom, the door to which is slightly ajar.
Most of the mages sleep in cells in long corridors – each cell has a bed, a desk, and storage for books and clothing, but the walls don’t reach all the way to the ceilings, and they have open apertures rather than closing doors. A few people install a curtain or some sort of magical seal, but sound still travels between the cells with the bare ceiling space over their heads.
Melos’ bedroom, allotted to him only, is palatial in comparison.
His bed is huge, with four big posts, and he has shelves that are absolutely filled with books, hundreds of them.
“What, the academy library’s not enough for you, you needed your own?” he asks, and Melos laughs.
“I brought all my things with me from Mirian,” Melos says. “When I finish here, I’ll be opening a new temple – not all of these books are my own.”
“There’s not a temple of Virilis in Alexia City?”
“A tabernacle,” Melos demurred. “Open curtained, that passers-by can see the priests at work – see the pleasure they wreak on the worshipers. Are you fertile?”
The question catches Razin off-guard, and his lips part, but Melos barely even seems to notice – moving across the room, he’s picking up different bottles, combining them.
“Um, no,” Razin says. “I have a contraceptive charm.”
“Good, good,” Melos says. “No sense breeding you when you’ve still studies to be completing.”
“You can tell?”
“Tell what?”
“That I, um… That I have…” He doesn’t know what’s polite to say, and what’s rude. “That I have those parts?”
“I can smell you,” Melos says, and Razin’s knees actually go a little bit weak, the wave of arousal that washes over him is so strong. He staggers slightly, resting his hand on the back of Melos’ desk chair, and Melos turns to look at him, chuckling. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Now, let’s get you undressed, shall we?”
His hands are not just warm but hot as they begin to unclasp the front of Razin’s robe, and Razin stands there, trembling with want and trepidation, as Melos’ hands slide down his body and unlace the fastenings on his trousers too. He doesn’t know where to put his own hands, moves obediently as Melos pushes his robe down off his shoulders, pulls up his blouse.
As Razin toes off his shoes, Melos hooks his thumbs in the band of Razin’s trousers and underwear and push both of them down at once, and then stays there on the floor, kneeling on the rug that covers the wooden boards. He’s so big that even like this, he has to sit back on his heels and tip his head forward to keep his mouth in line with Razin’s cock.
Razin’s hands still don’t know where to go, hover in the air over Melos’ horns, and then Melos’ tongue slides over Razin’s open cunt, over his cock, and Razin lets out a desperate, wailing noise. His knees buckle, and before he can hit the floor Melos has grabbed him and swept him off his feet, tossing him back onto the bed.
Razin lets out another noise of surprise, grabbing at the sheets to keep from sliding further down, and Melos laughs as he comes over, gripping him by the ankle and dragging him closer again.
“Legs up!” Melos says, lifting his ankle and leaning so that Razin’s leg is over his shoulder, and that’s all the warning he gets before Melos upturns the bottle in his hand and pops the rim of it into Razin’s cunt. He lets out a grunted noise, gripping at the sheets as he feels cool liquid pour down into him, and Melos laughs. “You know how to make yourself come?”
“Um,” Razin says, and then lets out another breathless noise as Melos begins to smear a transparent unguent over his belly – it’s cool even though Melos’ palms are so hot, and it leaves a tingling thrum over his flesh. “Y… Yeah? Yeah, I do. I, um, I—”
“Tell me how.”
“Huh?”
“How do you make yourself come?”
“My, my dick.”
“Yeah? You like to strum it with your fingers, your thumb, rub it in a circle? Like to pull on it?”
“Yeah.”
“Pull on it? Yeah, take this fat thing between your thumb and fingers, jerk it? Bet you look pretty like that, thrusting these narrow little hips of yours up into your hands? What do you do when you’re close, go stiff and tight, curl your toes into the bed? Start wriggling, squirming, moaning into the pillow so no one can hear you?”
Razin heaves in a gasp, feeling his cheeks burn hot, feeling himself flushed as Melos’ hands keep roaming all over his body, massaging the gel into his sides and his back, over his belly, his thighs.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Melos says, voice warm with praise, and his tongue flicks incandescently hot and yet wet over Razin’s cock, the very tip of it strumming it back and forth, and Razin arches his back off the bed and helplessly kicks his legs a little bit, trying not to catch Melos’ arms. “Mmm, that what you do when you touch yourself, little man? You kick your legs like that when it gets to be too much and you almost can’t stand it?”
“Did they teach— ungh, that’s good— did they teach you to have sex at the temple?”
“What else would they teach me?” Melos asks, and Razin starts laughing, but then breaks off into moans as Melos sinks his tongue right into Razin’s cunt. He doesn’t normally even finger himself, is too nervous of making a mess because of how wet he gets when he thrusts down onto his fingers, smearing it over his sheets.
It feels so much better than his fingers – Melos’ tongue is a good deal thicker than even three of his fingers at once, and the strain doesn’t hurt. It feels good, the stretch, being filled, and that’s even before Melos curls the tip of his tongue up and drags it over the roof of his cunt.
“You want it in your cunt or your arse? I recommend your cunt – it’ll stay fast in you that way.”
“Yeah, yes, please, my cunt,” Razin says breathlessly. “I’m gonna, you— I’m gonna bloat, you said?”
“Oh, little man, you won’t be able to move once I’m done with you, and that’s a promise,” says Melos, and nudges him further back onto the bed. Razin hadn’t even noticed that he’d unfastened the brooch of his robe – as he stands to his feet, it falls off him in one smooth motion, and his cock falls heavy over Razin’s middle.
“Ah,” Razin whimpers, because it’s so fucking long and thick it nearly hits him in the face. He can smell the musk on it, and his mouth is watering just slightly as he dips his head toward it, opens his mouth. He can’t even open his mouth all the way around it, dips his tongue into the open slit and tastes the salt-flesh taste of him. He tries to open his mouth wider, tries to force his lips around the huge, blunt head – it doesn’t have a taper like elven cocks do, and unlike a human’s cock, there’s not a huge difference in size between the head and the rest of it.
Melos’ cock is a shaft the same width around all the way down to his huge, heavy balls.
“Points for enthusiasm, little man,” Melos rumbles laughingly, “but I haven’t prepared your mouth or jaw to take me – let alone your throat.”
Razin squeaks, and he gets to see Melos’ amused, triumphant look for just a moment before Melos grips him by the thigh and hip and flips him over. Razin lands heavily on his forearms and elbows, and there’s no warning, no further preamble, before Melos lines up the huge, blunt head of his prick up with his slick and open cunt and slams inside.
Razin’s desperate howl shakes the rafters, dust falling down around them, but thankfully caught by the canopy over Melos’ bed. His belly is bulging around the whole shape of Melos’ cock, and it’s so wet, and it’s so hot, and his cunt has never been so full and it hurts just a little bit but it’s a good, sweet, sharp hurt that makes him feel like he’s about to explode in the best of fucking ways.
Holding him up by the grip he has around his hips, Melos lows loudly, the sound rumbling out from his chest and from the core of his belly, and then he starts to thrust. Razin scrabbles helplessly at the sheets, can’t tear his eyes away from the obscene strain of his own flesh around the invasion of Melos’ cock.
He feels like he’s on fire, heat radiating out through the whole of his cunt, and each drag of Melos’ prick inside him stretches out his hole, the friction so good it leaves him letting out desperate, whining moans.
“Fuck, I’m gonna die,” he gasps out. “I’m gonna die, can you die from cock? Why does it feel so good? Oh, Gods, fuck, I’m gonna, I can’t, Melos—”
“You can die from cock,” Melos says, sounding infuriatingly calm. “But rest assured, little man, you won’t die from mine. Full sentences, though? I can’t allow that.”
“Huh? What do youholyfuckohGodsamInngh—!"
He loses the ability to string words together, Hells, to string thoughts together as Melos grips him around the middle and fucks him like he’s trying to pop his cock out through Razin’s mouth. His whole belly is bulging, deformed by the huge length of Melos’ cock bowing him outward, and Melos just moves him like he’s a fucking rag doll, dragging him down all the way to the base of his prick.
He's surprised he’s still got organs left inside him, feels like his lungs are going to be bruised, his heart, and he’s letting out incoherent, desperately horny noises that aren’t even fucking words. It feels so good he doesn’t feel like he’s gonna be able to hold onto consciousness, pleasure radiating out from his core.
“You feel good, little man,” Melos says. “If you’re lost for work after you’re finished schooling here, I’ll be happy to offer you a place in the temple as my cocksleeve.”
His balls are making loud slaps as they make contact with Razin’s cock, each tap against it making his cock throb with pain and tingling pleasure, and he can feel the pressure of Melos’ fingertips and his thumbs around his waist, can feel the soft fur of Melos’ belly sliding over his skin. His cunt is making wet, sloppy noises as Melos fucks him open, and he’s so soaked with sweat it’s dripping off him, apart from the frothing wetness dripping down his thighs.
Melos’ noises are getting louder, and Razin can’t breathe. He’s grunting loudly with pleasure, all but growls out, “Your boycunt is so tight, Calhoun, you perfect little fucking toy – you’re about to be a little less little, I can tell you that.”
Razin lets out an incoherent noise, but he barely hears it in his own ears because Melos is roaring as he comes, and suddenly Razin can feel his cock pulsing, can feel his balls churning out…
“Oh, Gods,” Razin whimpers, because if he’d thought Melos’ skin was hot, it’s nothing compared to the spurt of his steamingly hot come in Razin’s belly, pump after pump releasing into his belly. At first, it’s like seeing a bubble of the stuff under his skin, bulging out from the tip of his prick under Razin’s flesh before gravity drops it down into the bowl of Razin’s fucking womb.
He can hear it slosh inside him, hear the pump and liquid noise as Melos’ bollocks work and work and work – his belly is bulging, and it’s not just a stretch around the insertion of Melos’ obscene cock any more but the whole of his belly as more and more is pumped into him.
He feels like his insides are being displaced as his womb is forced to stretch around the weight of the liquid within him, Melos’ come heavy and hot and so thick inside him.
Melos doesn’t stop thrusting.
He rides through the throes of his orgasm, emptying his balls into Razin’s womb until his belly really is a fat balloon beneath him, until he can no longer rest on his hands and knees without the huge, pregnant swell of it touching the bed beneath him, but then he just keeps on sheathing himself in Razin’s cunt again and again and again.
Razin’s brain feels as if it’s melting to jelly, and he can’t believe he hasn’t come himself – he’s been floating somewhere in the clouds nearly the whole time, every wave of pleasure so unspeakably intense, so strong he hasn’t even been able to think of coming.
“Shame you don’t have a tail,” Melos muses aloud, and it’s so odd that it makes Razin’s melting brain stutter a bit in confusion. He hears himself let out a vague, baffled noise. “Something to grip you by, do this one-handed,” Melos explains, and then he hums softly as he strokes his huge hands up Razin’s lower back, utterly dwarfed by the span of each of his palms. “Then again…”
Razin lets out a shout as Melos suddenly forces his thumb, wet with Melos’ own slick, into his arse – he feels even fuller all of a sudden, his arse burning at the intrusion and the stretch, and with his thumb hooked into the rim of Razin’s ring he grips at his arse cheek with the rest of his thumb, uses the leverage to drag Razin down onto his prick one-handed.
He leans back to do it so that Razin is suddenly sinking half an inch further down onto his obscene prick than he was before, and the angle is different, the friction considerably more, and all at once he’s sobbing as his orgasm crashes over him all at once.
“Cocksleeve,” he hears himself say blearily as strs burst behind his eyes and in his cunt, as all of his limbs flail helplessly, as his whole body shakes and tremors, as tears drip off his cheeks and he fucking drools onto the bed beneath them.
“That’s exactly what you are,” Melos agrees. “Good boy.”
* * *
He can barely keep his eyes open by the time Melos is done with him.
The sun is fully risen, and Razin’s cunt is so stuffed with Melos’ come that his limbs won’t reach the ground – resting on the huge swell of his belly, he’s so fat with it that his cunt is at the perfect height for Melos to come right up behind him and slide his cock inside him without even bending his knees.
Sweat is soaking him, his hair plastered to his head, his body quivering, and Melos had pulled out a plug to press into his cunt and stop his come from dripping out of him.
“Hey,” Melos says, snapping his fingers in front of Razin’s face, and Razin blinks at him slowly. There are tears and spit dried on his cheeks and chin until Melos wipes both away with a cloth, and then brings a glass up to Razin’s mouth and makes him drink.
“There’s no space,” he slurs out, which makes Melos laugh, but not pull the glass away until Razin has reluctantly drunk half of the cool sweet tea inside it.
“You know how to conjure a magelight?” Melos asks. “Hm? Hand out, that’s it, palm up, flick your thumb upward and just…”
Razin has to concentrate hard to be able to fucking move his hand, let alone channel magic through his body, and he flicks his thumb upward as he envisages it in his head, imagines the brightness of the light—
And then it flares out of his hand like an incendiary flash, and he yelps in surprise and pain at the sudden brightness in his eyes.
Melos laughs, and Razin lets out a giddy, breathless giggle at the rush he feels, more than the pleasure inside him, more than the ache in his muscles and his body and in his stretched-out, ruined cunt and his cock, which feels strained from twitching… This is more than that, this is the electrical thrill of magic channelling through his body at a rate it never has before, making his blood rush in his ears.
“Fuck,” Razin says. “They’ll… I’ll have…?”
“Normally, you’re channelling magic through your own flesh, your blood – people call them magical veins or channels, but that’s merely a turn of phrase to make it easier to visualise. Right now, you’re channelling a lot of it through my spend – it’s channelling through that, through you, too. Practice some spells while you’re stuffed like this, you’ll widen those metaphorical magical veins. The more you do it, the more your body will strengthen its capacity, even when you don’t have my come in you.”
“Haaa,” Razin says dreamily.
“And in the meantime, I’ll let everyone know where you are,” says Melos pleasantly. “I’ll even advise everyone stick to your back end, leave your mouth open and unoccupied for you to cast, hm?”
“… What?”
Melos grins down at him, and Razin feels his cunt flutter around the plug.
“Say it,” Melos whispers to him, touching the side of his cheek, and Razin stares up at him wonderingly.
“Cocksleeve?” he asks.
“That’s right,” Melos affirms, patting the skin under his fingers, and then steps away to call down the stairs to the other dorms.
Melos conjures a ball of ice this time, and yelps in surprise at how big the ball is, how some of the ice dusts his gargantuan belly beneath him, making him flinch – and making the come inside him slosh more in the process.
“Temperature play,” Melos says, in the tone of a man about to make notes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Razin giggles, and tries to focus on the magic between his palms before the next cock comes up behind him.
cw: established relationship, implied fingering (f!receiving), thigh fucking, i think this counts as humping?, unprotected p in v, slight backshots, creampie <3
wc: 851
Clark’s got you braced against the kitchen counter, his body hot with desire as he pulls his fingers out of you. He’s given you enough orgasms that your arousal is dripping down your thighs. He uses his fingers to ensure your slick is coating over the soft skin of your inner thighs. You shudder, your breathing heavy, and he can hear your heart racing between your ribs.
“Gotta get you all wet, honey,” he says, voice rough. “Wouldn’t wanna chafe your thighs.”
Once he’s content with his work, he leans down, his chest pressing against your back as he kisses the side of your neck, his blood thrumming with need. Carefully, he pushes his cock between your thighs, feeling their soft flesh engulf him.
He groans, holding onto your hips as he slowly moves his hips forward all the way until his pelvis presses against your ass. You whine quietly; his cock is pressed right against your soaked, puffy folds, the thick head catching on your clit.
“God, that’s so good,” he murmurs against your ear. He thrusts slowly, letting you feel as he rubs against your cunt, your slick dribbling all over him. “Such pretty, perfect thighs.”
He slides one hand around to your front, his fingers traveling up until they find your breast, and he kneads at the fatty flesh, his thumb tracing around your nipple. He busies his mouth on your neck and shoulder, kissing and occasionally biting softly.
He starts moving a little faster, his hips pushing harder. His cock between your thighs makes a wet, sticky sound with each thrust, and the soft slap of skin against skin echoes through the kitchen every time his pelvis hits your ass.
Clark is grunting and panting in your ear, his hand on your hip holding you a little too tight as he guides you to move back and forth to match his rhythm.
“Fuck, you’ve got the prettiest thighs,” he murmurs, his hand on your tit pinching your nipple and making you whine. “Prettiest thighs, prettiest tits, prettiest everything. You’re the prettiest girl.”
Your own breathing is heavy, your body jolting every time the thick mushroom head snags on your swollen clit. Your strength fails you and you lean forward, now bent over the kitchen counter, squirming as Clark thrusts quicker.
“So good,” he groans, sweat beading on his forehead as he fucks your thighs faster. “Oh, look at you, always so pretty for me.”
You whine his name, weakly pushing your ass back against him. You can feel your pussy dribbling all over him, sticky slick coating the velvety skin of his cock and making everything slippery, allowing him to thrust faster.
He leans down over you, his chest hot as it presses against your back. His hand moves from your tit to your hand on the counter, and he intertwines your fingers, squeezing softly. “You okay?” he asks quietly, his lips against the shell of your ear.
You nod. “Yeah,” you say breathlessly, your legs starting to quiver as a warm, hot knot of pleasure forms in your womb. “’m more than okay.”
Clark smiles, chuckling softly, before increasing his pace. He pulls back a moment to watch his cock slipping between your thighs, all wet, every vein prominent on the hard shaft of him. He groans at the sight, his hips stuttering a bit before he redoubles his efforts.
He angles his hips up, making sure the tip of him presses with more force against your clit with each thrust, the length of him now slotting between your puffed folds, and you squeal, delighted, as he works you towards your orgasm.
“Come for me, baby. You’re right there,” he gasps, thrusting faster, his hips slamming against your ass hard and making the round flesh jiggle.
His hand slides from your hip to your womb, adding pressure there, as the tips of his fingers tease at your clit, occasionally sandwiching the sensitive nub between his fingertips and the head of his cock.
It’s too much for you.
You come, moaning, “Clark! Clark!” and squirming against him as the coil in your belly finally snaps. He feels more of your slick dribbling from your hole, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.
He pulls away suddenly, only to kick your foot aside, spreading your legs, and then he’s sinking his cock into you while his fingers rub at your clit almost desperately. You gasp, still so sensitive from your orgasm that you come again, tightening around him.
Clark falls over the edge too, whining lowly as he spurts rope of thick, milky cum into your warm, wet pussy. “Fuck, fuck. Baby. God,” he moans, thrusting slowly into you until he’s spent himself completely in your cunt, and then he stills. “God.”
He kisses the side of your head, his body weak from his orgasm.
“Fuck, that was so good. You’re so good.” He nibbles at your shoulder gently, and grins softly. “You really have just the prettiest thighs.”
𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - if you wanna be added to my Clark Kent taglist, lmk 💛
“König!” You call out through the house happily, trailing around to find your big husband.
“Garage, Liebling!” He calls back.
You find him under the hood of the car, seeming a little frustrated. You knew he was working on the transmission. You don’t know what happened, all you knew was that something was wrong and as soon as you got home, you asked him to look at it.
“Hello, handsome,” you say sweetly.
He gives you a look. “What is it that you want?”
“No fun.”
He only turns back to the car, waiting for your answer.
“I want to try Shibari.”
He coughs violently and you pat his back with concern.
“What? Like. The rope— Shibari?”
“Yes.”
He looks at you with wide eyes before turning back to the hood and shutting it. “Why is that?”
“I wanna tie you up.”
He coughs again and you laugh. “Cmon. I already got the rope. You’ll look good all tied up for me.”
König only whines, following after you.
——-
You start with his chest, leaving soft kisses next to purple and red hickeys. You coo at him the entire time, assuring that he looks perfect. That he’ll look beautiful covered in rope.
He’s completely bare under your ministrations and you can see how red he is, how pretty his cock looks hard for you— swaying under its own weight, unable to stand up fully.
“Cmon, turn over for me,” you say sweetly, watching his face flush again as he does as he’s asked. You call him a good boy and see his cock twitch.
It was a reward as much as it was a punishment for him. He loved feeling your hands on him, but it was embarrassing for this war hardened man to be reduced to just whines when you finally finished and started jerk him off. He couldn’t even move his arms or buck his hips.
He was helpless :(
“Cmon Kö, you can give me one more, can’t you?”
“Liebling, bitte. It’s been an hour— hah, fuck— please.”
You only tutted. “But I wanna play with you. See how long until you’re shooting blanks,” you say with a pout you know he can’t refuse.
His cock hardens again, tip angry and red, still unable to stand without help. Your entire lap was covered in his cum, the corners of your mouth and between every crevice of your hands. Some had found its way into your hair too.
You start to work him over again, giving kitten licks just watch his cock jump and twitch. This was all a game for you, König the only participant. The only reward, and the only punishment— all wrapped up nicely for you like a Christmas present.
At the thought, your eyes got brighter and he groaned, knowing you came up with another idea that would probably lead to the same fate of shooting blanks.
“Can I do this again for Christmas? I don’t want anything else— just you.”
“L-liebling— ngh— you’re gonna make me— scheiße— c-cum again—” his groan is guttural. You’re sure the neighbors will have a handful to say tomorrow when he goes out to mow the lawn..
“Yes? Yay!”
——————
I think it took three and a half hours before he was drooling and shooting blanks for his pretty partner :)
Oh my god please write about that mermaid genital slit I beg its so fucking hot I need it so bad.
that was early (@553580) talking about genital slits in mermaids but i would love nothing more than to talk about mermaid genitalia (I even have diagrams if people are interested, monster fucking my worst special interest) and also to talk about
cw: eggs, dubcon
researcher!reader and mer!price
dragging your tongue along the pink slit that sits at the top of his tail, the fatty entrance rough with scales under your tongue it not entirely unpleasant, you're quite enjoying yourself. the mer seems to be too. it's not exactly ethical to engage with the creature like this, but it isn't as if you're the only person on site who indulges the mers in their breeding season. he's given you enough gifts you figure releasing the big guy back out into the wild would drag you 2000 miles offshore as his mate, so you're confident he's good with all this, especially considering the hand on your head and the insistent way he pushes his hips against your mouth.
so you lick and suck, enjoying the way the flesh around the slit engorges itself the more you toy with it. you work your fingers into the cunt-like genitalia, your tongue wiggling alongside them to lick at the inner walls. there's no clit for you to suck on like you would a human, but that doesn't seem to matter, price moans all the same. too bad though, sucking on that has always been your favorite part. it doesn't take long for your mer's tail to start flicking aggressively, his moans turning to growls and his fingers digging claws into your scalp. after a few minutes the whole cunt seems to contract around your fingers, the soft walls flexing and releasing on the digits while you lick away the dribble of slick that starts to pool from the hole.
price tugs your head back and you make a noise of pain at the rough treatment, wincing as you reach to try and pull his claws out of your skin.
it's only when you feel something poking at your lips that you open your eyes again, and suck in a beath that is quickly choked by the cock that you're shoved down onto.
it's pink, fleshy, so alien surrounded by the dark flashing of his scales, it tastes like fish, and it throbs. the whole appendage throbs with the same convulsions that it had as a cunt, though this time the slick that pours from it has a direct line to your throat. price works you down his cock too quickly, tugging your head down and ignoring your gagging. you push at his hips but the mer is bigger and stronger than you, and he holds you at the base of his cock.
your vision is starting to darken at the edges when you feel something heavy push its way down his cock and over your tongue. it slides easily through price's length before finding its way in your throat where you, on instinct, swallow.
he pulls his cock back and you suck in a breath through fitful coughs, only to have your head pulled down his thick length again. another strange weight passes over your tongue, another instinctual swallow. the same near loss of consciousness, the same last minute save only to have your air once against taken from you. eight times. he fucks your face methodically like that eight times.
until your stomach feels painfully full and you're choking down nausea just at the sight of his cock. the whole fleshy apparatus flexes, almost tentacle-like, before a ninth egg pushes its way out of the tip and drops like jell-o into your waiting palms. fuck.
how the hell are you going to explain this to medical.
simon who loves when you flatten the warm pads of your fingertips along the length of his tongue. simon who’s almost a bit too eager to lean himself forward, to let his lips hit knuckles. and he can sit there all day, sticky tongue swirling and corners of his lips drooling.
loves when you use middle and ring, the two you use to play with yourself. if he gets himself worked up enough, he swears he can taste your sweet pussy off the skin, slurping and digging his tongue between the two till your fingers part just like the pretty folds of your pussy. if he works himself up, he’ll be a dreary, whimpering mess. poor cock dripping down itself untouched.
Simon's fingers are thick enough to make it burn at the stretch.
He rarely uses only one. Just at first, of course. Middle finger testing around before it finds a place to slot in and curl. He waves it inside, dancing back and forth with his wrist but never going in too deep, straying from bruising your cervix—knows it's not there that you like it.
Knows you inside out, actually.
Every bloody time you and Simon have sex, it turns into one hell of an anatomy lesson. The patience of the man is genuinely unmatched—perks of dating a sniper, you think.
No, not there. Bit to the left. Yeah, can you feel that? Should feel a bit rougher.
Slow. Slower. Nah. No. Lost it.
Fast. Oh God—yeah, like that. Touch my clit too, baby. Yeah—yes, oh my G—please, keep—no, no not—oh. Alright. Lost it.
Fucking hell, that man has put his whole blood and sweat into it. Fingers, tongue, cock, toys, hands, fists—nothing.
You're oddly alright with it. Frustrating as it is, of course. You're not immune; it's obvious that you want to come too. Alas, you've made peace with it.
You never had a good orgasm with someone else. Or a bad one either.
Pretty trustworthy of your fingers, or your vibe when it's your hand guiding it, your orgasms are usually mind-blowing when it's you coaxing them out of yourself.
When it comes to someone else, though, it's like your body immediately shuts off and doesn't know how to climb over that edge.
Simon once insisted on watching you get off as he did too (quite the hot experience), using that newly discovered kink to study what you did—but you didn't come, that night, even though you changed absolutely nothing of your usual masturbation routine.
It's a trust thing. An anxiety thing. A stress thing. So many things crammed into one big, cumbersome, unnamed feeling that sits heavy in your guts.
Simon's hurt, even if he doesn't show it. He trusts you wholly, and it took him a long damn time to reach this level of commitment, so why don't you do the same? It's not as simple as that, though—he knows it. However, it’s not easy on either of you.
Your relationship has faced its share of rough patches throughout all of this, largely due to this impediment of yours. But Simon... well, Simon loves you. He won't give up something so precious because of a few obstacles.
So, no matter how many times you tell him that it's okay if you don't come, he just doesn't let it go. And while you have to admire his stubbornness, it has put even more pressure on you.
Tonight, he's settled between your legs. Got his face in there right as you opened your thighs. You like it when he initiates it, though his expectations of you still tighten your stomach into knots.
It's been fifteen minutes. You’re sure of it, since the clock’s right above the door to your left. You looked at it when he went down, and you’ve been glancing back every five minutes, like usual. Now your eyes find it for the third time, so you can confidently say that Simon's been eating you out for the past fifteen minutes.
Mathematical. Precise.
And you still haven't come. Unsurprisingly.
You're taking too long. He must be getting bored. Once again, vitriolic thoughts rush through your head and make you feel like a dull, frigid monster who can’t even feel good.
Simon seems unbothered by the switch in your eyes, mostly because he’s paying little attention to them.
He sucks on your clit. Leaves kitten licks when he pulls back, unsheathing it with his thumb to have the most sensitive part of it at his mercy. God, it feels weirdly good when he does it—like you've been zapped out of the blue and your toes curl and your fingers fist the sheets.
And he never leaves any part of you empty. He sucks on your clit and fingers your hole. One finger at first, then two. He usually goes in with a third, and whenever you want to explore a bit of pain, he fits in four of them. His fingers are thick enough to make you exclude the possibility of a whole fist—you tried once and never again. It scarred you for life, you think.
He amps it up, usually. Starts soft and slow, and by the time you're precisely twenty minutes in, he's tried it all, and you stop him. Tell him it's enough. That you can't come and it's okay. And then you have sex, and he comes a bit after that. Pent up as he most certainly is, it doesn't take him long to reach his high.
However, it's been eighteen minutes now, and he's still slow and teasing: two fingers and a gentle mouth. He's not being methodical and precise. He's lazy and sloppy, drool trailing down his chin. Slurping noises here and there, your wetness coating his fingers and making his pads all pruny.
And like usual, there's this knot building at the base of your belly. Tightening and churning, melting liquid in pleasure, but still not enough to tip you over.
When the clock signals that it's been twenty minutes, you go for his hand on your thigh—like routine.
"Can't do it, baby," you whisper. Gently, you pat his knuckles like you're consoling him, giving him the reassurance that it's fine and he can stop this and fuck you so he can feel good too.
But instead of pulling back, Simon swats away your hand.
"Like it," he rumbles, mouth to your clit. He sounds... annoyed? Like you're interrupting something.
You cock your head. He's still licking down at you and hasn't even opened his eyes.
"But I can't come," you explain slowly.
His fingers curl upward inside you. Inadvertently, your hips meet his hand, shifting towards it to chase the feeling.
"And?" He asks. "Feels nice anyway don't it?"
You blink.
"I mean, yeah—"
"Then let me."
"But I thought—"
"Stop with tha'," he grumbles.
His eyes open, finally, and land on your face. With a slow lick on your clit that makes you shiver, he unlatches his mouth from your pussy.
"Stop with what?" You ask, feeling slightly lightheaded and breathless. Just because you can't come doesn't mean you can't feel what he does to you.
It's the most frustrating thing about the whole ordeal, honestly: you feel good, so good that you might just have one of those earth-shattering orgasms that change your life. One of those that seize up your legs and trap him between your thighs. One of those that ultimately never co—
"Stop bloody thinkin'," his voice interjects, quite effectively stopping your train of thought. "See it all over yer face. Knock it off."
You scoff. "You can see it?"
"I can, yeah," he drawls. "Now lemme get on with it. I wanna eat you out."
"But I won't come—"
"Said tha' already," he interrupts. Slowly, his eyes return to your cunt, glistening with his spit and your arousal. Simon licks his lips.
He pumps his fingers unhurriedly, watching enraptured at the flesh stretching around them and the wetness collected on his palm. He goes down, licking it from his own hand.
Jesus fucking Christ help you.
The crooked bridge of his nose nudges your clit, and he nuzzles it. You clench your teeth, eyes rolling back behind closed eyelids. When he returns his focus on you, he's wet from nose to chin; there's a heaviness to his eyes, blown dark and murky with hunger.
"I wanna eat—” and he slaps your clit. You gasp, wide-eyed and choking on a breath. “—this fuckin' pussy." Slap.
He’s crude and abrasive.
"Can I do it, or we on the clock?"
And with a healthy smattering of sarcasm, too.
It's embarrassing beyond belief that he's noticed your gaze flitting to the clock every time. Of course he has, always so attuned with you and with his eyes and ears perked. God forbid he turns off his senses for once.
You feel your cheeks grow hot and your chest bloom with sweat.
His hand unfurls from your thigh and snakes upward, landing flat on the valley of your breasts. Gently, he guides you down, letting your back meet the mattress.
"Lie back, yeah?" He rumbles, sounding suddenly softer. "Kill the lights, eyes shut, an’ quit the bloody thinkin’ for once."
He's got this pull on you that has your hands comply before your mind even registers it. They reach behind, testing blindly on the wall above the headboard—easily, your fingers find the switch, and the room goes dark.
“Stay here, focus,” he whispers against your thigh.
“Hear that?” He stops. Curls his pads inside you. “Fuckin' soaked. Jus' feel it, love. 'S all I want.”
You exhale shakily. Your eyes struggle to focus in the darkness, and the clock is out of sight. So, you do as he says: you close your eyes.
Simon's breath puffs on your pussy: warmth meeting even hotter skin. His stubble scratches the inside of your thigh. You can feel him shift his head, like he's caressing you with his cheek.
The moment your legs soften up on his shoulders, Simon sighs.
"Atta girl," he murmurs, kissing your clit ever so softly.
You jolt in his hold, and he keeps you still by tightening his hand around your thigh.
The press of his lips turns open. Wetter. Languid and soft, and completely selfish—a meal prepped for a feast. His tongue splits you open, tracing the seam of your pussy only to tip at your clit and draw sloppy circles around it. Then he flattens it, leaves it there as he bobs his head to increase the pressure more evenly. Fingers pumping you full, slow and unsteady—a rhythm that has no rhyme or reason.
A rhythm that, despite it all, you try and tune. Hips meeting his hand, lifting slightly off the bedsheets.
He grunts. Sounds pleased—you wonder what his eyes look like, whether they're trying to find you in the darkness, or if they're already accustomed to it. Whether he's looking at your face, or if he's decided to focus on your taste, on your smell, on your touch.
You screw your eyes shut and try to do the same.
You concentrate on the callouses of his palms brushing your ass and sliding up your knee in a soothing fashion. On the roughness of his tongue dragging against your clit as it swells and throbs for him. On the sting of his stubble, the sound of his breathing.
On the smell of sex, so pungent yet sweet.
With a quiet pop, Simon releases your clit. He's panting, close enough to your pussy for you to feel his lips moving when he speaks. Tickling, almost teasing—a mellow contrast compared to the two fingers pumping inside you, or to the way your hips meet his hand.
"Like this?" He asks softly. He sounds like another man entirely, not at all like the one who almost barked at you previously—frustrated and annoyed at your interruption.
You nod your head blindly. God you wish you could check how long it’s taking you to finish. Wish you could see his face, if he's bored or if he's enjoying it. Maybe meet his eyes—
"Words, pet," he whispers, leaving a fat kiss on your clit. He sucks and you arch into him. Pop. "Can't see ya—pitch black ‘ere."
You feel your throat close in. "Y-yeah, like that," you croak.
He hums appreciatively. Noses your clit as his hand follows a new rhythm—the one you set. Not the sloppy, uncoordinated mess from before—Simon instead follows your hips. It's good. Scratches you right, with the softness of his pads alternating with the rougher patches of skin marring his knuckles.
You clutch his forearm, the one wrapped around your thigh, and dig your fingernails in.
Once again, Simon kisses your clit. "Show me," he murmurs.
"Just try—"
A light slap on your thigh. Your legs seize in anticipation.
"Said show me, not tell me," he admonishes. "Go on."
On instinct, you heed him. Your hand slides from his forearm to the top of his hair, clutching short strands in a tight fist. Simon grunts, and it's lost in a chuckle so deep and dark that you feel it vibrate against your pussy, where you guide his mouth.
This time, your hips drive forward to meet his tongue and not his hand, though somehow he doesn't lose that rhythm you showed him before. Not too deep, not too shallow: just there, just past your entrance, on top. A constant and deliberate curl of his fingers, hitting upwards and then retreating—slow, controlled, delicious.
God this feels the closest you’ve ever been to an orgasm. You might even believe it will happen, and if he keeps following that pace, you might just—
Quit the bloody thinkin' for once.
You exhale. Inhale. Deep, feel your chest swell with air.
Stay here, focus.
His palm brushes your leg, his fingers curl inside you. His tongue is perfect, guided by your hand fisting his hair. Slowly he draws deep sighs from your lungs, fills your belly with molten pleasure, liquid lust.
Hear that? Fuckin' soaked.
Squelches echo each time he pushes in. Muted slurps when he sucks on your clit, thick grunts spilling freely from his lips.
Jus' feel it, love. 'S all I want.
And that tightness that builds around his fingers. The soreness of the muscles in your legs, cramping as your heels dig into his back.
The shortness of breath. The darkness around you—tangible, warm like a hug and yet constricting your throat like a vise. Your mouth opens wide to gulp in air, but all that comes out is a groan that shocks your bones, an orgasm so innerly loud that your ears ring.
You don’t feel your hands, what they clutch or how hard, nor the movement of your limbs. All you know is that you're cumming in Simon's mouth, around his thick fingers. And it's wave, after wave, after wave that crashes at the shore of your neck. Blooms rapidly to your cheeks, steals your breath away.
Simon keeps the rhythm you set, head soft under your hold, allowing you to pull it in or push it away. A puppet to your strings, surrendering entirely to your control.
You breathe, finally. In, out. Tingles run up your arms, tickle the sides of your neck. His tongue softens but keeps lavishing your clit—and the tide retreats, still brushing up your navel every time the tip of his tongue touches where you're now overly sensitive.
It's awfully hot and Simon's a walking furnace, so the feeling is tenfold stronger—and yet it's more of a hug than a restraint.
Gently, you leave the grip on his hair and caress his cheek. Fingers dance to the nape of his neck, and you tug him to you. Upwards he follows, hands landing on either side of your face.
You pull him in, but it's dark, so his mouth initially lands on the corner of yours. Still he kisses you there, and then travels to your lips where his tongue delves in.
You taste yourself. You feel the wetness of his fingers when he comes to cradle your cheek. His smile cracking his face. Simple at first, until you feel his teeth smooth against your skin.
A bit of pride, a ton of thankfulness.
"Oh my God," you breathe, airy giggles riddled with disbelief.
"I know," he whispers fondly. "I know."
You smile too, threading your fingers through his hair, and you kiss him again, and again. Kisses that taste of love and breathy chuckles, of happiness and relief and searing hot lust. Sparse grunts and moans that rumble like a hungry stomach, famished still.
Your limbs shake. They feel gooey, falling off the bone. You wrap them around his waist, feeling the heaviness of his cock pressed between your belly and his—sandwiched hot and wet.
"Fuck me," you breathe.
Simon groans. He slides in seamlessly and fucks you thoroughly, biting your shoulder to stave off his orgasm because—
"Never been this wet—fuckin’ hell, pet—"
Each thrust is punctuated by a heavy grunt. Sometimes it breaks, crackles in your ear like a freshly lit fire. A wheeze, a thick breath drawn in. Fingers grasping greedy handfuls of your ass. Teeth biting your lip, traveling downwards to suck marks on your neck. His voice raucous and scratching your brain—
"Perfect girl. Wish I’d seen ya—maybe 'nother time, yeah?"
A promise with no expiration date. No matter how long it takes—maybe, not surely. No pressure, just your pace.
You don't come. But you feel it all. When he spills inside you and plugs you full, and some of his cum trickles down the curve of your ass. When he whispers sweet nothings in your ear as his chest sticks with sweat, flattened against yours. His heart in a frantic search for your own.
You kill the lights. Close your eyes. Stop thinking—for once.
Johnny and Simon messing around in Simon’s room together, Simon literally jerking off onto his face standing above him and then you just walk in…and you all just lock eyes before Johnny gives you that look that kinda says join us…and all the sudden your in the middle of both of them get absolutely destroyed.
Ghoap x female!reader, oral, sloppy oral (male receiving), spit roasting, face fucking, sub!johnny, sub!reader, dom!Simon, threesome, leeetle bit of degradation but not in a mean way
Your fingers twist together nervously. You'd been avoiding Simon and Johnny, and finally been shoved into the hallway back to their room by Price- "Sort this shit out," he'd ordered you, and watched to make sure you didn't try and run off.
You didn't mean to avoid them- but god, they turned you on so fucking much, you couldn't keep a clear head around them. Simon with his voice and his hands and the way he would casually yank Johnny around by his vest, once a thigh holster that made your own squeeze together. How Johnny would grin and wink at you, licking his lips after a drink, hearts in his eyes at his Lieutenant and the bulge in his jeans.
Who could blame a girl for trying not to get shipped out because she shot the wrong training target while staring at Johnny oh-so-gently stroking Simon's cheek as he dozed on the smaller man's lap?
But Price said go, so you got.
You hesitate in front of the door. What if they are mad at you? What if they want answers? How can you say that- oh yeah, I masturbate at night to the thought of being the filling in your sandwich.
You knock, because you're not a coward, but it's a soft knock.
There's voices inside- a voice, speaking low and fast, you can't quite hear it. You think it's Simon- he said come in?
The door swings open easily.
Simon is there, jeans shoved down his thighs, and one hand holding tight to Johnny's hair while the other pumps at his cock. Johnny is naked, kneeling, and there's wet spots on his cheeks and his lips are swollen, as red as his own cock where it stands between his legs. He's got a hand on it, not moving, just playing with it as Simon spurts precome across Johnny's face, smearing it across his beard, his eyelashes.
"Fucking come on your face just like this," Simon pants, "fuck your mouth and make you beg for it- come on, do it again, show me where my come is going."
Johnny moans, mouth stretching open and tongue falling forward over his teeth.
You gasp, suddenly hot, sweltering, a sharp ache in your pussy as it clenches. There's nothing in the world except Simon, hand stilling over his cock, and Johnny catching a drop on his tongue.
Simon says, "Well? Get in or get out."
The door clicks shut behind you.
-
Johnny's tongue slips against yours, circling the head of Simon's cock as you pepper it with kisses, following the vein along the bottom with the tip of your tongue. His balls are soft and fuzzy, and you bury your face against them, sucking at one when Simon encourages you with a hand on the back of your head.
"Eyes up," he orders, and you blink up at him through your lashes, Johnny's head tilting back as he does the same. Simon nudges you back a little and grips the base of his cock, slaps it on Johnny's tongue. You whine and stick your own out, begging, and get a chuckle along with the wet smack and burst of precome on your tongue.
"Greedy things," he says, half to himself, and you moan as he slips his cock into your mouth, letting you taste him, feel the heavy weight of it, before pulling out and giving it back to Johnny. He goes between you both, trading fucking your mouth for Johnny sucking the head of his cock, your tongue on his balls while he forces Johnny down to the base. There's a moment where your lips meet Johnny's around Simon's cock, your mouths forced together by his hands, and your whole pussy cramps with how turned on it gets you.
Johnny is pulled off with a gasp, spit and slick hanging in shining strings from his chin, and you barely get your own open in time. Simon fucks you rough, forces his cock all the way back to your throat as you gag. Johnny grabs your hands, keeps them from pushing Simon off, and your eyes roll as more heat and slick build up in your pussy.
Johnny is moaning in rhythm with you, shifting so he can rub his own leaking cock against your side. When Simon bottoms out, your whole body convulses, instinct and panic slamming up against the desperate arousal flooding your veins. Johnny groans, gets a hand on your breast, forcing your shirt up and out of the way.
He flicks your nipple, but he's too turned on to be cute with it; you get a couple swipes with his thumb before he's pinching and tugging, working the little bit of flesh like a toy.
You whine, shaking, and sob as Simon pulls out in a smooth wet stroke, your own spit added to the shiny layer on his cock, the pounding in your temples echoed between your thighs.
"Aw, too much for the baby?" He teases, and Johnny barks a short laugh next to you. Simon doesn't let him get away with it, gripping the short strands of his mohawk and slapping his cheek with the hard weight of his cock. "Oh I see, puppy thinks he's got it handled. How about this- baby, want his cock in you?"
You nod eagerly- yes, that sounds amazing, can Simon keep fucking your mouth with it?
"Sure, you'll get it. And Johnny, you're going to make her come before I do, or you're not coming anytime soon."
You both moan, from the order and the heat in his words, the command. You shuffle up to your knees, arching your back, so Johnny can get his cock at your hole. You're dripping wet as he works your pants off, and shiver when he drags a finger up your seam, licking it clean with a moan.
You think he's going to work a finger or two inside first, but Simon grips your jaw and shoves his thumb inside, wedging it between your teeth, forcing your mouth open. "Deep breath," he says, and you barely get one before he's shoving his cock to your throat, and Johnny slams his own into your cunt.
You'd bite on instinct but Simon's thumb keeps your teeth apart. You're skewered, cocks fighting to meet in the middle of you, shoving in and out without rhythm- you're a plaything for them to enjoy. You barged in and interrupted so now you can make it up to them both.
The wet slap of cock and balls against your pussy, and the throaty moans and whines forced past your lips, fill up the room. You struggle to breathe, but every time you bottom out onto Simon's balls it feels like less of a necessity, every time Johnny rocks his cock across your g-spot you figure oxygen is overrated.
Everything is soft and fuzzy when Simon pauses, pulls out to rub his cock over your face, smearing tears and snot. Johnny is curled over your back, panting, the ache of your pussy riding the edge of too much and not enough. You're so close you can feel it, the sharp sting of pleasure that's right there-
Johnny gets his fingers on your clit, rubbing in the slick, slippery mess, and smears his cheek against yours in a sideways kiss, licking up a string of precome dripping off Simon's cock.
You squeal, eyes rolling, and Simon gives you his cock again as you come, gripping your head in both hands to fuck your throat wide open. You can't bite now, you have no control of your body- you're a live wire, a bolt of lightning, a liquid, sloppy mess of come and slick and spit, sagging between the two men giving you the fuck of your life.
Johnny groans, clutching your body against his, biting at your shoulder as the aftershocks milk his cock.
"Fuck, Si, so good, she's so good, came all over me- so wet- Si, gonna come, please," and Simon releases your head. You gasp, limply clinging to Johnny, as Simon fucks his throat with as much enthusiasm as he'd yours.
It's so forceful, it looks so painful, seen from the outside. It is painful, your throat burns, but you see Johnny's eyes close in bliss, his cock twitching inside you as he's used. There's a bulge in his throat, and you stroke it with your hand, clit throbbing as you feel the steady in-out-in push of Simon's cock as it distends the flesh.
Johnny chokes as you grip his throat, carefully, and you feel his cock pulse, hips jerking against your ass as he comes, his moans distorted behind Simon's cock. The bigger man is groaning over you, and he shoves your face into his balls again as he presses his hips to Johnny's face, spit and come a frothy mess around his mouth, and Johnny's eyes fly open as come spurts out of his nose, gagging, a mess made worse when Simon pulls off and jerks the last spurts across both your faces.
Johnny is panting, gasping for breath, and you squirm off his cock enough to turn and lick a stripe clean on his cheek, tasting the come that had been denied to you. He goes to the floor, shaking hands stroking your chest and sides, as you suck the come from his skin, tongues meeting again in the middle, spit smearing down your chin.
You feel like a- like a greedy thing, wanting more of the wet, musky come, the pounding ache in your belly that wants more orgasms, more hard cocks and wet tongues. Simon's big hand strokes down your back, soothing, as you and Johnny exchange air and kisses. When he shifts you forward, you go easily, laying across Johnny with your legs open around him, feeling the drip of his come out of your pussy.
Simon slips a hand between your thighs, pets the soft skin, spreads your folds. You hear him whistle softly. "Filled her right up, Johnny," he says, and your toes curl as he licks you from clit to hole. "Mmm, delicious," and oh fuck, you want him to make you come again. You're so turned on, it'd be easy, just a few licks on your clit and maybe a finger to fill you up-
You whine when Simon steps back, leaving your pussy quivering. "No, you got one, even though I could've let you go without for barging in. Say, thank you Simon."
"Thank you Simon," you obey, except it comes out as sir, which makes your pussy clench and Johnny moan under you. He's a mess, sticky and panting, his cock softening against your belly.
He kneels, his cock still hanging full against his thigh, and feeds the head into Johnny's mouth. The man sighs, eyes closing, cuddling handfuls of your ass as he suckles.
You drop your head to his shoulder. Fuck, what the fuck. How the fuck is this your life. Your pussy still clenches with little shivers, calming down, and you doze off on top of Johnny with Simon petting your hair, tenderly whispering all the filthy things he's got planned now that you can come play with them.
Beta!price who's been training omega!reader to help alphas in rut, all so you can help his men? You have a nest set up in your house, a guest room with both your and prices stuff. Whoever you're helping bring their own things that work into the nest. You cuddle and purr and lie pliant as his men abuse your poor hole, again and again. Sometimes price is in there to observe and make sure you're both fed, but more often than not he's on base or an op. Just you and whoever's rutting, shoving you around and whining when you don't take off your bite guard.
OR!!!
Omega!kyle who is so considerate when he hears his teammates don't have heat partners, always offers alpha!reader to be a warm body for them. That you are. Military men are about the most aggressive omegas you've been with, shoving you into the nest and riding for however long they want. Again and again, working that knot and still grinding even when tears prick your eyes. Kyles happy to let them do whatever, just so long as he gets video or photos of how their stomach bloats with your cum.
You say a lactation kink is fine right? I mean you don't ALWAYS have to be pregnant for a lactation to happen; its a side effect to some medications I hear so that being said.~ I bet it would drive some of the boys you write for mad when they accidently find out their teammate is taking medications that give them such a side effect. They wear nursing pads in their bra that absorbs the milk if it leaks, usually its not too bad because they regularly squeeze out the milk in places they can discreetly dispose of it like the bathroom sink or if their out in the field in a hole in the ground. Nobody knew until they accidently left used and milky pads on the side of the bathroom sink, thinking they threw them out. It was pretty obvious what they were from the look and smell of milk and there weren't many females or afab personnel on base. They would be embarrassed when the boys asked if it was theirs but confirm it was, apologizing for forgetting them and explaining it was a side effect of their meds their not pregnant or anything.
I wonder how the 141+konig or anyone else you wana add in would react to that fun fact hehe. (Bet König is begging so cutely to nurse directly from them)
oh i love this, yes lactation kink is very much welcomed <3
CW: lactation, afab reader, dub con (?)
it all happened because you’re a dumbass and thought you threw the pads out, you were so sure of it you didn’t even think to check back, dammit
you left the bathroom a couple hours ago, completely forgetting the whole ordeal, and then johnny came up to you in the rec room, completely ignoring the other men in there, holding the damned pads in his hand and with a worried and- jealous?- look he asked you a question you did not expect
“lass, are you- are ye pregnant?” your cheeks heated at the question, and your eyes darted from his face to the pads and back, and your mouth opened and closed, desperately trying to find an excuse of any kind, for fuck sake!
“you are? really?” könig piped up from his chair, and he sounded too ecstatic for your taste, where he was playing cards with kyle and simon, everyone stopped and focused on you
you turned your head to them, shaking it no enthusiastically, your head lifting defensively, ‘no’s dropping from your mouth quickly
“i’m not! i’m not, those are- it’s a side effect from my medicine, i’m not pregnant!” you try to defend yourself, turning back to johnny, who’s cheeks are red and has a glint in his eyes
is that- he looks hungry?
“so wha’? ye just producing milk?” he asks, still holding those damned things in his hands, and you stand up, hands scrambling to try and take them from him
ineffective, you have to say, he just lifts his hands up higher than you can reach and holds them over your head- literally
only for konig to step behind you, grab said pads and hold them even higher, before he leans down next to your ear and asks you in a low tone, that isn’t actually low enough and can be heard by all of them
“may i taste, liebling?” your shoulders lift, tensing up and you stand still, eyes wide in surprise at the question, you turn around to tell him to fuck off when johnny speaks
“nah mate, i saw them first, im tasting first” you turn back to johnny, eyes wider and cheeks even more heated, arms crossing defensively over your chest
“no one’s tasting! are you guys insane?!” you try to step away from them, but the two idiots have you cornered, blocking your attempts to escape from any direction, one man standing behind your back and one at your front
“ah cmon lass, bet it’d feel better with our mouths on ‘em, bet they’re sensitive, aye?” johnny steps even closer, hands grabbing your forearms and pulling at your arms, lifting them up, he looks at konig and nods his head down at you, giving him a wordless order
konig, the giant asshole, puts the pads in his pocket and then grabs your wrists, holding them above your head, so johnny can freely lift your shirt, exposing your soft skin, and ignoring your squirming he pushes your bra down, lowering his face to your chest and latching on a nipple
you whine loudly, chest pushing against his face and when he starts sucking, hands gently kneading your soft chest, you whimper in pleasure, head pushed back against könig’s chest as johnny drinks
“why can’t i drink too?” könig complains quietly, moving to stand in front of you, your wrists being pushed and pulled so he can hold them at your sides, grip too tight for you to even think about moving, and then he lowers his face too, lips attaching to your free nipple
the sensation of having both your nipples sucks on and your boobs being milked like this has moans falling from your lips, and you squirm in their hold, complaining that they’re damn weirdos
the two of them carefully push you to sit down, kneeling around you and getting comfortable in their positions so they can drink their fills, both of them looking up at you with wide eyes, dazed from the taste of your sweet milk
Stalker!reader who absolutely looooooves König and how kinda creepy and just big he is. Steals underwear, tries snapping pictures, and is just absolutely desperate for this man. reader thinks they're so sneaky about it. But is in fact not and maybe König is really just letting happen till he decides to catch them in the act and give them what they want? (He fucks them.) Inckude whatever else you'd like!
-👁👁
gosh this is an old one, i’m sorry if it took me so long wow how does time pass like this???? AGH anyway this is so good!!!
CW: stalkerish behavior, smut, degrading, reader is a pervert!!!!, unsafe/unrealistic sexual ?conduct? he doesn’t use lube
he had noticed you pretty early on, the little soldier always lingering behind doors and corners, always taking pictures and scurrying off as soon as he turned to try and catch you in the act, he noticed his dirty underwear going missing, the new smell on his bed some nights when he didn’t wash the sheets when he should’ve, the stares, always feeling watched and the hair at the back of his neck lifting, instincts telling him he’s being observed
so he plotted to get you, trap your little obsessed person in his room, and he waited and waited, and finally, in the middle of the day when he should’ve been elsewhere
he was hiding in a dark corner and waited for you to slip in, quietly closing the door behind you before stepping to his bedside table, rummaging to find some of his underwear and taking one of the dirtier ones, stuffing it in your pocket before crawling on his bed, on your knees, face lowering to nose at the sheets and take in his musky scent
he steps to his door, as silent as ever, and turns the lock with a loud click, which has you stilling, muscles tensing as your eyes widen, snapping to the door because of the sound, and widening more when you see him, standing there with an unreadable gaze from behind his hood
you’re shocked, so much that you can’t move, face stuck into his bed, ass up as you kneel on the mattress, and he steps towards you with slow and calculated movements
you’re honestly pretty scared, thinking that this is going to be how your life finally ends, choked out because the man of your obsession found out you stole his underwear and sniffed at his bed- pretty embarrassing, if you ask
you go to speak, head lifting slightly from the bed and lips wide as you muster up words to at least try and defend yourself, when he grabs the back of your head and pushes your face back down, your face ending back into the soft fabric, and he holds you down there as he lowers down himself
he gets to your level, face closing in on you, words spoken right next to your ear with his breath puffing against your skin through the hood
“finally caught you, little one” his voice is low and it has you shivering, a muffled whine coming from where your face is stuck into his sheets
“you’ve been busy, hm? taking so many pictures, trying to steal all my underwear, even following me in the bathrooms when i shower” your shoulders tighten nervously, muscles tensed, and you try lifting your head to defend yourself, deny it!
but he keeps you down, tight hold and heavy hand on the back of your head, and you whimper again, anxiously waiting for the punishment and pain to come
he shushes you, his other hand slipping beneath your shirt and stroking your skin, sending more shivers through your body, fingers traveling from the top of your back to the bottom, teasing at your waistband
“you thought you were sneaky, ja? thought i would not catch you?” you shake your head as much as you can, and when he slips his hand down your pants you whimper, noise loud enough to be clearly heard over the bed muffling your voice
“little thieves are to be punished” he says matter-of-factly, standing and kneeling on the bed behind you, hand still holding your face down and you’re getting dizzy, too little air coming into your lungs but you try to stay still, gotta be a good soldier
“you’re going to be a guter kleine soldatin and take your punishment, isn’t that right, liebling?” from his position behind you he takes the freedom to pull down both your pants and underwear, revealing the mess you made in your clothes and you squirm beneath him, trying to cover yourself
“ah-ah, kleine, be still” his free hand comes down on your ass, a loud slap sounding in the room as you’re startled, ass held still as you whine, the pain quickly transforming in pleasure
his fingers play with your hole, teasing in and out a few times before he spits on it, fingers pushing in with slow and hard strokes, curling downwards and pushing against all your sweet spots
he gets you up to four of his thick fingers, and you’re whimpering, desperately trying to lift your head even just to get a deep breath in, but he keeps you down on his bedsheets, and your brains fogging up quickly, body shivering and moving less beneath him
when he takes out his fingers he spits on his palm, lining up his shaft before pressing the head against your hole, enjoying the way it tightens and relaxes from the pressure of his hard head
he thrusts in, pushing until he’s balls deep, enjoying the feeling of your walls pulsing around him, startled from the sheer size and length of his cock
he decides then that you’ve been punished enough and he finally lifts your face from the mattress, pulling you up up up until your back is laying against his chest, and you get pushed further down on his length, your loud moans at last sounding freely
he starts thrusting, hips pulling back and snapping forwards with a wet slap as they hit your rear, your eyes rolling in the back of your head at the sensation, his hands holding you at your neck and hip, grip firm as he keeps you still to fuck your hole open
“that’s a gut soldatin, take it like you wanted, huh? was it as big as you imagined?” he breaths against your ear, the deep timber of his voice making you moan, head thrown back against his strong chest, hole squelching as he thrusts in quickly
you came once when you were being fingered open, and your second orgasm is building pretty quickly, and as the hand on your hip slips lower, moving so his fingers play with your sensitive spots, it pulls another orgasm out of you, hole clenching and pulsing around his cock, breathy noises from you as your muscles tense up
his thrusts get more erratic, he tries to reach his orgasm too, and the way you’re clenching around him helps, his muscles tensing and hips thrusting one more time, hard push as he buries himself to the hilt, loud groan right in your ear as cum spurts from his cock and into your hole
he keeps you down on his dick until he’s satisfied, until he’s sure you’ve been stained in places no one has ever reached by him
when he pulls out you fall down, laying limp on his bed as cum slowly spurts out of your abused hole, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval, murmuring something about ‘not wasting his precious gift’ before he takes the stolen underwear in your pocket and stuffing it inside your hole, to keep all his thick cum inside you for as long as he wants
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