I write gay shit

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When Qifrey offers to teach you magic, it feels vulnerable and intimate. He doesn't teach you anything complex, simple water spells, fire spells, movements. Things like that. You'll actually never advance past the first few years of an apprentices training but Qifrey does adore watching your eyes light up every time you get something right. Olruggio, while reluctant to teach another outsider magic, involves you more in his commissions. You don't do much in terms of construction but he lets you paint lines and test spells to help him.

You spend hours with both of them, shoulder to shoulder, hunched over a spell and learning. Casually reading by the fire at night. Working together to make dinners. Domestic things that you love every second of it.

You start to notice how good they smell, how gentle they speak to you, their warmth, their weight, the pattern of speech and the tone of their voices.

But what you notice most of all is their habit of touch.

The atelier, you learned almost immediately upon entering, thrives on physical forms of affection. Touch between the apprentices and their teachers is remains appropriate. Its gentle, sweet and comforting. (A pat on the head, a hug when they've done well, carrying them when they travel out side of the atelier.) It's all so darling.

Well those touches find their way to you but their lingering. They feel deeper, heavier. Olruggio will place his hand on your back if he needs to move you out of the way. Qifrey will offer his hand to help you down from a pegasus carriage or to walk out of the door. They'll sit closer to you at the table, they'll fix your clothes casually.

Everything comes to a head when the girls are asleep and the adults have cracked open a delicious bottle of wine, none of you are drunk but the alcohol gives you (and them) confidence and you're the first to say, "I like you both more than I should. And in a way I'm not supposed to."

the tentacles in the sky came out of nowhere. one second, the sky was clear and starry, and before olruggio could blink, swaths of inky black tentacles had blotted out the moon. the streets quickly became a mess of crowds running for their lives, leaving olruggio stranded.

he had gotten straight to work despite the panic, casting spell after spell in an attempt to keep the spindly limbs at bay. but they seemed to literally be made of ink- none of his spells stuck, and the limbs just kept reforming and regenerating like a hydra.

“fuck-!” caught off guard by a tentacle from behind, it doesn’t take long for olruggio to become completely incapacitated; flipped upside down with tentacles roaming his body, holding his wrists and ankles in place. one particular tentacle wraps around olruggio’s waist, joining under his belt and making him yelp.

olruggio’s mouth opens in shock as a startled yelp leaves him involuntarily- and something nudges against his lips before he even as time to close them.

“mph-!”

his mouth is suddenly filled by a writhing appendage, so large he can’t even bite down on it. something warm and sticky leaks down his throat; a thick, syrupy secretion that tastes saccharinely sweet. olruggio would gag if he could- but his throat feels loose and empty.

startlingly, everything feels empty. his whole body burns with an aching need, and his core clenches around nothing. every brush of the tentacles against his skin has needy whimpers escaping is throat and being swallowed by the tentacle prodding the back of his throat.

olruggio doesn’t even gag- the tentacle now depositing a steady stream of syrupy fluid, thick enough that it clogs his throat and sweet enough be tastes it on his tongue. his brain feels fuzzy and his thoughts distant, and he vaguely feels another appendage stripping him of his skirts and positioning him ass-up on the cold cobbled street.

hogtied and gagged and burning with feverish lust, it’s to olruggio’s surprise and relief when a tentacle finally probes at his heat, a phallic muscle slipping inside of his core easily thanks to the precome dripping down his legs. a smaller, thinner tentacle latched onto his dick, and he feels his body jolt, mind so overrun with pleasure all olruggio can do is uselessly hump the air.

i need it to come inside of me, the distant thought crosses into his brain, latching onto his subconscious like a leech; i need to be filled. i need to be bred.

olruggio’s eyes roll into the back of his head, jaw going slack around the tentacle still invading the orifice. he’s so full, and it’s still not enough; his thighs clench in mindless arousal, desperately riding the tentacle and pushing it as deep as it can go inside of him.

his hips buck into the phallic intrusion, and he can feel the moment it brushes against his womb. his vision goes white and his toes curl, mind going blank as hot arousal consumes his consciousness. he doesn’t even register the way his stomach distends around the phallus, a mix of the tentacles secretions and the sheer size of it creating a visibly outline by his navel.

breed me. my purpose is to be filled. submit. submit to pleasure. breed me. my purpose is to be filled. submit to pleasure. the invading words fill his head like a mantra, gripping his thoughts in a strangle hold and ridding him of pesky things like autonomy. he knows it’s not his own voice, but he doesn’t care- his body feels too good to care, fucked out and mindless on the tentacle.

something breaks deep inside olruggio, whether it’s his brain or his body is up to debate. his thoughts come in a soupy, cloudy haze; so disconnected from the relentless assault on his body that his brain shuts down for him. blissful waves of orgasms come and gone send olruggio further and further into pleasure, throwing himself fully into the deep-end with no hesitation.

the tentacle in his mouth slips out, leaving olruggio whining and panting at the loss of contact. the phallus breaches his womb again and again, picking up the pace until it fucks into him brutally. olruggio’s body gyrates and throbs with each messy thrust, the tentacle inside of him pulsing and olruggio knows it’s time.

a white-hot wave of pleasure overcomes his body when the tentacle releases inside of him, so mind-numbing and powerful that olruggio feels his breathe leave his body in pleasure-fueled whiplash. his entire body tenses, muscles locked and twitching as more and more of the tentacle’s spend coats his insides.

his tongue lolls out of his mouth, legs twitching as the tentacles grip loosens and lays him on the cobble. he can feel its seed dripping out of him, pooling in between his thighs in a lewd confession.

olruggio watches, helpless, as the mass moves on in an all-encompassing wave, writhing tentacles moving farther and farther away. a pang of wanting hits his chest like an arrow; how’s he supposed to fulfill his purpose now?