Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/14007828.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Additional Tags:
      Daddy_Kink, Extremely_Dubious_Consent, Kidnapping, Hate_Sex, Anal_Sex,
      Oral_Sex, Intercrural_Sex, Magic, Porn_With_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-18 Updated: 2018-03-25 Chapters: 2/? Words: 4575
****** Adventures of a Magical Cockslut: The Witch ******
by NicoNoble
Summary
     Caine Priestly has three things that define him to the outside world.
     One, he’s a witch. Two, he’s absurdly pretty for a boy. Three, he’s
     an absolute cock slut. If you’re good looking and have an average or
     bigger dick, he’s on you faster then you can say ‘slut’. He uses his
     magic almost exclusively to help with sex, keeping his hole tight,
     clean, and STD free and making sure he’s always ready and raring to.
     Magical sex toys aren’t so bad either.
Notes
     Warnings for this chapter: None. It's pretty explicit, but all
     concentual.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** A Little Magic Never Hurt Anyone *****
A boy, roughly sixteen with medium long hot pink hair, a blue tongue bar, and a
face that wouldn’t look wrong on a more curvasious body licks his lips, turning
the pages of a heavy navy blue tome. He lays on his back on a bed of black
sheets and pink accent pillows, bare feet pushed against the tufted black
leather headboard. His milky white thighs are visible, though his cock and
balls are covered by an oversized band t-shirt. He looks thoughtful, for a
moment, before growing bored and tossing the book away. He dives for his phone,
which reminds him that it’s nearly three in the morning. He has school
tomorrow, which brightens his mood. New school, new town, and new fuck toys. He
grabs his headphones and turns on his masturbation playlist after a quick
scroll through his Spotify. He rummages through his nightstand, pulling out a
large blue vibrator and a tube of cherry lube. He’s gotten a little too well
aquatinted with this thing since the move. He’s still grounded from whatever it
is he did to piss his mother off before they moved, and it’s hard to sneak out
and find a partner while his mother enjoys her vacation downstairs. He shakes
his head. She’s the last person he wants to think about while he works his hole
open in order to feed the sizable blue cock inside him. Two fingers is nothing,
really, especially since he’s already fulfilled this particular need twice
tonight. He needs a shower after this, he decides, pressing a third finger in.
He was hard when he started, but, well, he hasn’t gotten off on just fingers in
over a year. He pulls his fingers out, biting back a whine, and begins to push
the large blue faux phallis inside his tight hole. It’s slow going, probably
because of his always a tight ass spell. He really needs to thank whoever came
up with that one, otherwise he’d never have been able to get off so much. He
stretches to accommodate it and grabs the remote from under his pillow. He gets
comfortable, closes his eyes, and turns it on. 
It’s well and truly torture, how amazing it feels, but it isn’t real sex the
way he likes it. There’s no real end to it. No cum to fill him up, leak out of
his slutty backdoor, no in and out he loves so much. No balls smacking against
his ass or fingers leaving navy blue and plum purple bruises on his skin. 
But if he keeps thinking about what it isn’t he’ll never get off. He sighs and
relaxes into the silk sheets beneath him and lets his mind drift. The steady
buzzing against one of his most sensitive parts is enough, he knows, but a
little fun never hurts. He reaches up, running his fingers over a pebbled
nipple. The raised flesh is easily abused and he twists it, whimpering. It’s
easy to imagine he’s enjoying the company of an overzealous lover, punishing
him with pleasure before the fuck of his life. His stomach is slick with pre-
cum and he works both nipples in an effort to push himself over the edge. 
His back arches, a moan being cut off by his hands, and he cums all over
himself. He blinks tired baby blue eyes open and snaps his fingers. The sheets
are clean, again, but he really does need a shower. With a sigh he removes the
toy, spells it clean, and puts it away before ambling over to the bathroom with
a yawn. 
 
His mother is waiting downstairs at seven, all dressed for work, and she
hesitates before handing him his car keys. She moves a few stray strands of
hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. "Be a good boy Priestly, okay? I
don't wanna get any calls this week at least about your behavior." 
Priestly nods. "Does this mean I'm not grounded anymore?" 
His mother sighs before nodding. "Yes, alright, two months is punishment enough
I suppose. Your curfew is ten, which is city wide so don't think it's my way of
punishing you. If you're not back by then and you get arrested you can spend
the night in jail." 
Priestly rolls his eyes. "Yes mother." 
She rolls her eyes right back and grabs her purse off the table. "Don't fuck
around Caine Margaret Priestly, or I will dig out those baby pictures you hate
so much." 
"Mom!" 
She snorts and leaves, slamming the door shut behind her. 
Priestly grabs a box of sugary cereal out of the cupboard. "I swear, when she
gets a boyfriend I'm gonna seduce him and fuck him in her bed." With that
cheery thought, he grabs the milk and gets a bowl down. What better way to
start the day then with over thirty grams of sugar and his second favorite
white liquid? 
 
Priestly checks himself out in the mirror one last time. His eyeliner is just
thick enough to rim his eyes, draw attention to the vibrant blue oceans trapt
there, with just enough mascara to make his already long lashes compliment the
adrongenous quality of his face even more. His pink hair has been brushed,
though it still falls sexily into his face. He's wearing skin tight leather
pants and a black and pink stripped t-shirt as well as black combat boots. The
t-shirt has a hidden pocket, just big enough for a small tube of lube, which is
good because he can't even get a finger in the pocket of these pants. Jewelry
wise he picked a pink tongue bar and a black choker. He's ready to seduce the
first person who calls him a faggot. 
 
Harrisburg Highschool is just like every other school he's ever been to, save
for the fact that it's a bit smaller and a lot more brown toned. He pulls into
the parking lot on the black Vespa his mother bought him for his last birthday.
He forgets which exact line it's from, but it gets him from a to b and he
rarely has to fill it up. His backpack is slung over his shoulder, black
pleather and covered in enamel buttons and patches. He glances at his phone.
He's supposed to head to the office so the principal can bring him to first
period. Sounds fun. If they want him to introduce himself to the class he
should just say he plans on majoring in cock in college. With a snort he heads
inside. 
 
Apparently, everyone introduces themselves in homeroom on the first day. It's
one of those overly friendly schools. He half expects to have to give the
pledge of allegiance as well, but it doesn't come up. The teacher is a woman,
Mrs. Robinson, how cliche. He doesn't bother anymore with her. His interest is
very singularly focused on six of the fourteen other boy's in the class, and he
scribbles their names down in his little black book. He crosses names out as he
fucks them. It helps him keep track. 
"Caine Priestly!" Mrs. Robinson calls, probably not for the first time.
He blinks, rubbing at his eyes. "Yeah?" 
"You're supposed to say three things about yourself." A girl whispers in his
ear and he nods, best not to get his mother called so early. 
"Uh, I speak and read Latin, I've been to four foreign countries because of my
mom's work, and I'm double jointed." 
Mrs. Robinson grins at him. "Really, where?"
"France, England, Sweden, and Russia." He glances back at his notebook. "Aside
from words I've been warned against using in school, I didn't really pick up on
much language there though." 
A boy in a varsity jacket snorts loudly, and a few others snicker into their
notebooks. 
Mrs. Robinson nods. "You'll have to give us the details another time then.
Alright, Henry O'Hara, your turn." 
 
The cafeteria is jam packed, and Priestly's ripping into a bag of chips from
the vending machine instead of school lunch. Nothing really looked appealing,
but Doritos and a Coke seemed like a pretty good alternative. He spots the jock
from homeroom, laughing his with friends. Erik Decker is just delectible, with
his messy blond hair and friendly green eyes. Another boy swings an arm over
his shoulder, dark brown eyes lifted in laughter. His black hair is buzzed
short on his scalp. He makes a note of a few other good looking options in his
head, but for now he'll stick with home room. 
 
The door to the boy's bathroom opens just as he starts drying off his hands.
Erik Decker pulls his cock out in front of the urinal and lets fly. Priestly
takes a little longer drying his hands then normal, not bothering to hide the
way he's glancing at the fat cock the other teen's been hiding in his blue
jeans. 
"Like what you see, faggot?" Erik smirks, fisting his length for emphasis. 
"I know exactly what I am thanks." Priestly tosses his paper towel in the
trash. "Question is, do you want in pretty boy, or are you just fucking with
me?" 
Erik turns to face him, half hard, and smirks. "Blow me and maybe I'll fuck you
up against the mirror."
"Wash up and I'll lock the door." Priestly counters, heading for the door. He
hears the sink turn on. "You were just pissing, get your dick to or it's going
nowhere near my mouth." 
"Yeah, yeah slut. Hold your fucking horses. We've got a half hour before class
starts, plenty of time for me to loosen your cunt." Erik dries his hands and
dick before tossing the paper towels. 
Priestly kneels on the tile floor in front of him and reaches for the hard cock
in his face. He leans forward and licks the head, watching Erik shiver, before
pulling the length into his mouth. He holds onto the blond jock's thighs,
pressing him against the wall, and sucks lazily.
"Ah yeah bitch." Erik fists a hand in Priestly's pink hair, thrusting forward
and pushing another inch of his cock down the other teen's throat. "You like
that? You like fucking your face on my fat cock, bitch?" 
Priestly deep throats him instead of answering, moaning around him. 
Erik pushes him off a moment later. "Grab the counter and bend over sweetheart.
And try to relax, wouldn't wanna tear your pretty ass, now would we?" 
Priestly smirks and stands, obeying. The cold countertop presses against his
nipples and he keens. "Fuck me already!" 
Erik smacks his ass, grinning when the other boy yelps in surprise. "I knew
from the moment I saw you that you were a pretty little cock slut."
"Yeah, so?" Priestly glances back at him. "We've got like fifteen more minutes
and I'd really like to get off, fuck me." 
Erik grabs his hips, shaking his head, and starts to push in. 
It's hard, not even a joke. He's tightened up quite a bit since this morning
and Erik isn't exactly small. Spit is shitty lube. Priestly mumbles a spell
into the countertop, and Erik slides in a lot easier. Not enough to notice. The
fingers on his hips are gonna leave some fucking beautiful bruises, nails
digging in deep enough to draw blood. Erik pulls out almost all the way before
slamming his hips forward, right into Priestly's prostate, and Priestly moans.
"Fucking yes!" 
Erik sets a brutal pace, fucking him open and using him like a blowup doll, but
whatever, it feels good and nearly every thrust is hitting his prostate. Erik's
balls smack against his ass, his lips are pressed against Priestly's neck,
there's gonna be a pretty hicky there when he's done. Priestly cums with a
whine and Erik continues to fuck his overstimulated ass for another couple
minutes before he pushes himself over the edge with a roar. He pulls out and
looks over his handywork, the fucked out form beneath him. Priestly's shaking,
cum slipping out of his ass and dripping down the counter onto the floor. His
hips are already starting to bruise, and there's an obvious hicky on his neck. 
Erik smacks his ass again, watching the shorter teen shiver, before pulling his
pants up and zipping them closed. He pulls a sharpie out of his bag and writes
his number on Priestly's ass. "Call me if you want a repeat." He leaves with a
chuckle and a wave, unlocking the door as he goes. 
Priestly grins at the floor. "I so fucking have to call him again." 
 
Priestly's playing Devil May Cry 3 on the PS3 in the living room when his
mother gets home. His shirt collar covers the hicky, at least. She drops a
pizza box on the coffee table, kicks her heels off, and bites into a slice. 
"How was school? Make any friends?" 
Priestly smirks, not looking away from the screen. "There's this guy in
homeroom who gave me is number. He wants to hand out sometime." 
She nods. "Good. And you didn't get into any trouble, right?"
"No, mother, I behaved myself like a perfect angel." 
She snorts. "Yeah, sure you did. As long as the principal doesn't call me,
we're square. Get your homework done?" 
"Only Math assigned anything and I got it done an hour ago. Wanna check my
answers?"
"God no." His mother checks her phone, groaning. "Crap, I've been called back
in. Behave yourself." 
"Okay." He grabs a slice of pizza while she slips her shoes on and grabs her
purse, running back outside. He glances at his phone, dialling. "Hey, Erik, my
mom's got a late night at the office. How about I text you my address? I've got
pizza." 
"Why don't you doll yourself up for me and I'll be right over?"
Priestly giggles. "Sure thing, sparky."
"See you in a few, cock slut." 
***** Hate Sex is Great Sex *****
Chapter Notes
     Rough sex, intercrucial sex, some somnophilia, all about as
     concentual as you can get.
Priestly wakes up the next morning wearing Erik's jersey (he'd shown up after
football practice) with a plug firmly situated in his ass and a cock thrusting
between his thighs. "Fuck, I thought I had stamina." He giggles and Erik licks
the shell of his ear. "Morning baby. How'd you sleep?"
"You woke me up three times by pulling the plug out and fucking me, asshole,
how do you think?" Priestly grinds back against him before grabbing his phone.
"It's almost seven, get us off so I can take a shower." 
Erik groans. "Almost there, fuck, say something dirty." 
"You litterally woke me up with intercrucial sex and you need me to talk
dirty." He snorts. "Okay, fuck, shit. God, that's good. Keep bumping the plug-
fuckfuckfuckfuck-FUCK, I'm gonna wear the damn thing to school. Feel you in me
all day." 
Erik thrusts forward one more time before spilling his load. He makes a few
half aborted thrust, riding out his orgasm. He slaps Priestly's ass and the
other boy cums with a whine. 
"Are you?" 
"God no, no one's gonna fuck me if I'm stuffed full of your sperm, Decker."
Priestly groans, pushing up into a sitting position. 
Erik smirks. "Sore?" 
"Remind me to only call you if I'm out of options. And to prep myself first.
Fuck, you know what lube is don't you?" He stands on shaking limbs and walks
slowly towards the bathroom. "See you in class."
"See ya." Erik heads out the window, jumping down onto the garage. 
 
School is boring. Not because he's stupid or because it's dull, well, it is
dull, but because no one even attempts to make it interesting. The teachers are
either old or female, so he can't fantasize his way though class. The other
students take their notes and stumble along like drones, the perfect sociatal
machines, until lunch. He actually bothers to identify the cliches this time.
Erik and his handsome friend are jocks, they sit with a host of preppy, bubbly
cheerleaders that flirt by twirling their hair and fluttering their eyelashes.
There's also a few more attractive then average jocks with them, who's names he
resolves to learn just long enough to fuck them. Next is punks, vibrant hair,
piercings, and the occasional tattoo. He hasn't had class with any of them
except for a girl who wears many different shades of black and seems to aspire
towards the vampire-victorian acestetic. The boy to her right has cherry red
hair and a studded belt. They're half stuck in the scene stage, but whatever,
there's a shit ton of hot guys that he'll have to seduce at some point. He's
drawn to the nerds next, noses buried in textbooks, and their subsidiary of
geekdom, with comic books and graphic novels spread out beside styrofoam trays
of lunch time slop. He recognizes a handsome face from his homeroom, who'd
looked at him with awe when he mentioned speaking Latin, and had only gotten
more excited when he heard about inappropriate words in foreign tongues. He
wonders how quickly the pretty nerd with stormy grey eyes and spiky brown hair
would get off inside him if he talked dirty in, fuck Russian or Latin, or both,
who knows. French is too romantic. Russian's fucking crass, or at least the
words he knows are, but that's half the fun of it. His eyes are caught by a
pretty Hispanic boy surrounded by a bunch of slackers, half of them reaking of
weed and probably worse. Definitely the person to approach if he's craving
booze or a joint. Lunch ends and he throws his half empty bag of sour cream and
onion chips in the trash.
 
He steps into Language Arts, ready to stick his nose in one of his magic books
spelled to look like a textbook. He gets his book out, and a notebook as to
appear like he's taking notes. He's halfway through a difficult passage on the
Pheonix Phenomenon, a spell that can bring back the dead if cast within twenty
minutes of death, soul intact when he hears an unfamiliar voice at the
whiteboard. 
"My name is Isaac Sorenson, and I'll be replacing Mrs. Ellis as your AP
Language Arts teacher starting today." Mr. Sorenson is certainly attention
grabbing, with his vibrant ruby red eyes and slick black hair. Priestly blinks.
Red eyes, pale skin...he flips to a page on vampires just as a hand grasps his
shoulder. "Reading ahead?" Mr. Sorenson asks, voice low and gravel like. 
Priestly glances up at him, and the sharp canines porturding from his gums, and
wonders what it feels like to get drained and fucked at the same time. This
might just be his new favorite class. "Is that a problem, teach?"
Mr. Sorenson scowls at him. "Name."
"Caine Priestly, sir." He mock salutes the man before returning to the text.
"And yes, I am a petulant little shit." 
Mr. Sorenson furrows his brow before removing his hand and ambling towards the
front of the class. "As Mr. Priestly-"
"Just Priestly." Priestly reads a little farther into vampires, grinning at the
frustrated growl he's coaxed out of his new toy. 
"Probably knows, chapter two is about Charles Dickens. We'll be reading a tale
of two cities and you all will be writing a four thousand or more word, APA
formatted paper, on your analysis of it." 
Priestly glances up at him, thankful for his fast forward and get a task
done spell already. Apparently his lack of frustration is telling, because
Sorenson outright scowls at him. "Priestly, stay after class." 
 
Everyone leaves when the bell rings, backpacks smacking against shoulders when
they're hefted up, shoes squeaking against the shiny floors marred by strips of
paper. He half expects a typical reprimand, not to interrupt, detention or
perhaps a write up. Mr. Sorenson rises, locks the door, and stands in front of
his desk. "Reading minds is very rude, you know."
Priestly blinks. Had he been reading the vampire's mind? He doesn't think so,
but his magic gets ahead of him sometimes. "Sorry, wasn't aware I was. I'm self
taught, control isn't easy to come by." 
Mr. Sorenson nods, a thoughtful 'hmmm' exiting his lips. "Well, can't exactly
fault you for not knowing, can I? Although, you're playing the twat quite
well." 
Priestly smirks. "Would you rather I play the slut, I'm told I'm much better at
that role?" 
The vampire blinks at him, confusion coloring his face. "Elsbeth Priestly's son
playing at being a whore. How the mighty have fallen." 
Ah, so the man knows his mother then. "I know what I like. Unless you plan on
fucking me, I'd like to find someone who will." 
Mr. Sorenson sighs. "Tempting, but not worth the stake in the heart. After this
semester I leave, so, if you behave maybe on the last day." 
Priestly walks over to him, pressing his lips against the man's exposed throat.
"She doesn't know what I get up to. I won't tell her." 
Sorenson growls low in his throat. "Do not tempt me."
"Aw, but I'm so tempascious." 
"That is not a word. Go home." 
He whines. "Aw, but mister-"
He's shoved towards the door. 
"Get out Priestly."
Disappointed, but hopeful, he heads out to the parking lot.
 
The game is all about seduction and manipulation. He has to identify what it
takes to get someone to give in. To fuck him, bring in their kinks and whatever
else they have to offer. And if deep throating a cherry red lollipop after
school while a punk scowls at him can give him what he wants, well, there's
worst ways to spend his time. 
Spencer "Spike" Sloane missed the bus. Priestly overheard him call his brother,
who's gonna pick him up after work. He's got four hours to kill and Priestly's
just bored enough to play with him. 
Spike isn't going to fuck him. He's the kind of homophobe who's on the edge of
anger and lust, but he'll pick anger. Priestly's probably gonna get punched but
whatever. Pain is pleasure to a certain degree, and Spike's the kind of
mouthwatering delight he craves. Dyed cherry red hair, angry brown eyes, slim
and well muscled. He's also in the taller end of the spectrum, and damn if
being looked down on isn't one of his many, many turn ons. 
"Stop that." Spike snaps, shoving his likely dead phone into his bag.
"Faggot." 
Priestly grins, licking his sucker suggestively. "Wanna make me, pretty boy?" 
Spike growls, tosses his bag on the ground, and leans against the wall of the
building. It's getting dark fast, Priestly notes, he'll have to head home soon.
His phone goes off and he checks it. Headed out of town on business, see you in
two weeks. - mom. Priestly rolls his eyes. "Parents, seriously." 
Spike raises an eyebrow. "Surprised anything anyone does surprises you." 
"My mom's going out of town. Didn't even bother telling me not to throw a
party." Priestly snorts. "Whatever. Teasing you's getting boring, I think I'll
head out. Unless you wanna pull my pigtails, I'd like to get laid at some point
tonight." Priestly turns to leave. 
"You know, from behind, you look like a girl." 
Priestly smirks. "So do you."
Spike's on him in seconds, shoving him against the wall, rage in his eyes.
Priestly bites his lip seductively, watching, waiting. It's just a game, one
that Spike's already lost. He might not be getting fucked, but the knowledge
that Spike's gonna waste his seed tonight jerking off to the thought of him is
more then satisfactory. "You fucking asshole-"
Priestly laughs. "Seriously, don't dish it out if you can't take it pretty boy.
You wanna hit me? Fine. Don't care. I already got what I want from you." 
Spike glares down at him, fingers fisted in the other teen's t-shirt. "And
what's that?"
"You're hard." Priestly giggles, pressing his knee between the other boy's
legs. 
Spike releases his like he's been bitten, backing away. "No I ain't." 
Priestly shrugs, turning away. He bends over to grab his bag off the ground,
turquoise skinny jeans accentuating his assets, and Spike inhales sharply.
"Fuck it." 
Nimble fingers are fiddling with the button on his pants and he's shoved back
towards the wall. "Don't talk, don't move, and don't fucking try me slut or I
swear to God I'll break your fucking face." 
Priestly wiggles out of his pants. "One thing, unless you wanna prep me you can
hand me the lube in my back pocket and I'll do it." 
Spike growls, biting down on his ear, but grabs the lube. 
Priestly whines, waiting. He hears the top of the tube pop off, eyebrows raised
in surprise, and a moment later the head of a slickened cock is pressing
against his dry ass. Fuck fuck fuck! He quickly casts the only lubrication
spell he can think of, which is certainly not e-fucking-nough for the fucking
coke can cock stretching him wide. Fucking straight, or in Spike's case
closeted, boys and their lack of appreciation for lube. He keens and Spike
shoves his face into the wall, hard. "You wanted it so fucking bad, don't go
complaining now. Half expected you to be a gaping slut hole, but this ain't
bad. Least I don't need a condom to fuck you open." 
"Too much! Too deep! Too fucking soon!" Priestly hisses into the wall. 
Spike laughs, digs his nails into Priestly's hips, and pulls back until the
only thing inside is the head of his cock. He thrusts forward, sharply, and
Priestly bites his hand to avoid screaming. This is slowly becoming more of a
turn off then anything, and being anyone's cock sleeve is a no thanks for him,
so he spreads his legs wider and leans forward, hoping for a better angle.
Spike's cock hits his prostate off center, and it's better then nothing. He
focuses on the other boy's shitty dirty talk and the full sensation of his ass
as well as the occasional hit against his prostate. His cock twitches between
him and the wall and he moans loudly when Spike actually manages to hit the
fucker dead on. He wants to throw a party - no a fucking parade. Spike starts
aiming for that spot, wringing moans and cries out of him, until he's rock hard
and his dick is scratching something awful against the wall. "Fuck me, fuck me,
fuck me you bastard fucking CUM!" 
Spike does, and he follows right after him with a sob. 
Spike smirks down at him. "Not bad." 
Priestly grins into the wall. He'd gotten more then he bargained for. 
 
Cum's dripping down his pants leg, but, whatever. He's been thoroughly fucked
and all he really wants is takeout and a pint of ice cream in front of the TV.
The dripping gets annoying and with a snap he's clean again, but the pleasant
soreness of being fucked senseless is still there. He's halfway to his Vespa
when he spots an unmarked white van. He takes out his phone, turning on the gps
tracker. Wouldn't do not to pay attention. His mother texts him a moment
later. Why's your gps alert on? 
Van. He manages to type, one handed. 
The van starts driving towards him and he runs for his motorcycle, fingers
clasping at the helmet and tugging it on. Hard fingers grab at his shirt and
he's dragged inside, phone falling to the ground. There's a needle in his arm
before he can zero in on faces and he blacks out almost immediately. 
End Notes
     All chapters will be 2k words or more and I currently have the first
     three written. I plan to update once a week. Comments make me write
     faster. Constructive critism is appreciated.
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