#nsft old man

[hubrisinnate]

Tying that old man's hands up over his head and sliding under the blankets and making him so very confused why his cock is surrounded by warmth and wetness when he's flopping back down against his thigh every so often until he hears the vibrator between my legs as I'm sucking off his flaccid cock

[probablytame]

don't play around with feral dogboys. don't chain one up to the bedpost and tease it from afar, making it sit on a vibrator while you touch yourself. good lord do not make the most pretty little whimpers and noises as you do it. sooner or later that thing is going to burst out from its chains and tackle you to the ground as it sinks its teeth into your neck. snarling as it tears open your legs and rams its knot into your hole. and god forbid it's strap knot, because the only thing that's gonna stop it is exhaustion. that thing only sees you as a toy, and it's going to fuck you until you break

[valea65]

I would love to be fucked dressed like this🔥

Any Volunteer?

let's talk in my telegram channel

@valqueen65

[dervampireprince]

something about being ruined. not just fucked or teased or even used, but ruined. someone making you unable to think, unable to speak, just moaning and twitching and leaving you unable to ever be satisfied for anyone else, anything else, always needing them, craving them, every hour of the day, being unable to control your arousal anymore, how wet you get, how hard you get, how flushed you become, all because they’ve ruined you.

[2facehusband]

hey so i need an older man to pin me against a wall and give me huge, dark hickeys i wont be able to hide in the morning. like grind your cock against my thigh and murmur about how small i am compared to you, how you'd split me in half if you fucked me. talk down to me, tell me im too pretty and dumb to be anything but a hole for you to use. you're too young to know what's good for you, honey, so let me take care of you, hm?

[heartofhubris]

[wishchip106]

where yo clothes at? 🤨

i’m in some state of shock honestly

he’s in his booty shorts 😻

[yinyuedijun]

I had another horrible realization about this fic. I think this reader is a virgin

[valea65]

'm sorry but if you invite me to watch Movies I only like to see them like this😇

Is this uncomfortable for you?😋🍆💦

😈If you want us to talk about this you can write to me on my Telegram Channel : @valqueen65

[poetryvampire]

✨A Healing Touch ✨

Summery: You and a few fellow druids join with the teifling refugees as they make their way to the Emerald Grove. Zevlor has fallen for you completely but will he ever be able to overcome his anxieties and accept the love you have to offer him?

Pairing: Zevlor x Fem! Reader/Tav

Words: 3,886

Contents: druid! reader/tav, mutual pining, self-esteem issues, angst, hurt/comfort, age gap, nsft, making out, masturbation, p in v sex, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation

Notes: I wrote some angsty headcanons for Zevlor dealing with is feeling for reader (original Here). I wanted to add to it and make it more explicit. There will be an least another chapter. You can read on a03 Here or below! 💚

 It would have been a lie to say that you hadn’t been on Zelvor’s mind from the moment of your meeting. As much as he hated to admit it, it had been seared thoroughly into his mind. 

 He remembered his apprehension at the idea of accepting your small party of land druids to join his group of refugees.The hours of talk with your Archdruid- a stern but sensible elf- lead to a peaceful agreement. She talked of her handful of druids being forced to flee their forest from hostel creatures and now sought a new home. Zevlor had planned to lead his people to the Emerald Grove to settle at least temporarily. It only made sense to join forces.

What eased his mind most was the diversity of your party; four elves, two tieflings and a human. It was an odd grouping to say the least, but genuine. Friends of his kind were friends of his. Plus Zevlor hoped that being in the company of elves may help their chances at the Grove. That evening, once the negotiating was said and done the commander did his usual walk through the camp, taking care to note the new faces. He had one remaining elf and the human still to meet. 

Then he saw you. A human woman, sprawled in the grass, laughing with your elven friend. Your antics had left you trying to adjust the flowers that had been braided into your hair. Your smile struck him; it was so warm and joyous. He was gripped with the sudden urge to have it turned on him. As if you had read his mind your bright eyes snapped to him. Smile ever on your lips you rose and made your way straight to him. Zavlor’s heart skipped a beat. You were a vision, one that could be easily mistaken for a  fairy maiden from a romantic tale of old. 

 To Zevlor’s surprise you bowed to him offering many thanks for his kindness in taking you in. He attempted to wave away such words, truly it was hardly a sacrifice. But you insisted that you would work hard to do anything you could to help. Your noble worlds and closeness of your beauty sparked something in Zevlor he thought long dead. Something akin to a boyish crush hit him like a hoof. He stumbled his way through a response, too taken by the warm light of the campfire dancing with the flowers in your hair. 

 That was to be the first of many interactions the tiefling would play over in his head endlessly. Your presence did wonders to slow his thoughts and make himself act a clown. It had been easy to dismiss at first. It was simply nature at play. You were young and gorgeous, a common bane to reason and sensibility. Zevlor marked the undeniable tension your presence brought as a passing interest he would soon forget about entirely. This was not the case. 

 As the weeks went by and your travels pressed on, your place in Zevlor’s mind only grew. Instantly you became an active member of the camp, ready to lend a hand to anyone. Without fail you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word, a simple action that Zevlor found himself looking forward to. Just as he would look forward to your daily conversations, the way they turned from awkward to easy. How they’d grown to be hours in length and moved over meals, cups of tea, long walks in the woods. In any form they were unquestionably the best part of his day. 

 Settling in the Emerald Grove was chaotic to say the very least. The tiefling commander was painfully aware of how precarious their new lodgings were. As he had predicted the accompaniment of the fellow druids had helped their case for their settlement. Though there are many among them ready to throw the tieflings away without a second thought. Another correct prediction, the druids of the Grove had offered permanent placement among them to all of your circle but the tiefling druids. The offer was hastily turned down to Zelvor’s great surprise. Your loyalty and care for your companions regardless of race moved him deeply. Plus,he thanked the Gods for you still being a part of his life.   

 As much as he had tried there was no longer any point of denying it. He was going half mad with yearning for you. Day and night he was consumed with visions of your beauty; from simple dreams of your perfect lips to impressions of how your face might contort in pleasure underneath him. It had been almost decades since the commander had felt such strong emotion for anyone. Your young, vivacious spirit was contagious and had rekindled things long forgotten in Zevlor’s soul. He was suddenly aware just how long it had been since he had felt the warmth of another’s skin on his. It was a craving growing stronger in him by the day. 

 In his Hellrider days he had seen and participated in his share of lustful adventures. He was no stranger to such things nor would he call himself a prude.That version of Zevlor felt a lifetime away. He had lost everything since then, his confidence included. In his mind there was no chance a creature as lovely as you would ever have eyes for someone as loathsome as him. It made his desire for you feel even more despicable. 

 Shame weighed heavy in his chest when he caught his eyes lingering on you. In typical druid fashion you weren’t shy about your body. You didn’t have a second thought about hiking up your skirt to climb through bushes to collect berries, or how you licked their juices from your fingers as you brought back a basket full. Zevlor hated himself for the lewd thoughts that plagued him. 

 Many sleepless nights had passed before he gave in. Before he pushed his tangled blankets off in the darkness and finally brought his hand to his painfully hard cock. Swiping his thumb across his soaked head, he conjured the image of you earlier that day. You had taken your time serving him tea, leaning across the table before him. With a lower cut dress then normal you went about your actions not noticing- or caring- for the full view of your cleavage you gave him. Zevlor bucked his hips frantically into his hand. He would have pulled you into his lap right then if he could; would have ripped your dress away and lavished every inch of neck and chest with his mouth. It only took the vision of Zevlor’s hands on your hips as he guided you down on to his manhood to push him over the edge.        

  He scolded himself for the old pervert that he was, hating the idea that he was using you for his wanton desires. Yet, the commander half wished those were the only feelings he held for you. To imagine his life without your friendship seemed too much to bear. Had the both of you not been stuck in such a stressful situation Zevlor would have courted you properly, as you deserved. But for the time being he was determined to keep his emotions to himself.               

                                                            -   

  Once again Zevlor found himself at your side. After running into each other time and time again in the surrounding forest you began planning outings together. He shared your love for the quiet peace of nature. As the tiefling sat in the grass writing in his journal you were perched on a rock trying to sketch the landscape. 

“I feel like a person could go mad staring at anything for too long.” you huffed, breaking the silence.

Zevlor snapped back to himself, his mind having been deep in thought over the tension with the druids of the Grove. Had he been staring? 

“Your muse isn’t speaking to you today then?” He smiled. Even when frustrated you were breathtaking.    

 “I suppose not. They’ve been a terrible tease lately.” 

 “How boarish.” Zevlor sighed, closing his book. “If you like I could knock some sense into them.”             

 You mock a gasp and press the back of your hand to your forehead. 

 “Would you defend me so, my brave paladin?”

“I would like nothing more, my lovely druid.” the words left him before he could stop himself. Perhaps that was a slight overstep. 

 Your eyes met his and held his gaze, a warm smile ever present on your lips. With the greenery of the woods around you, you seem the very model of enchantment. How could Zevlor even consider courting you when you deserved so much better. His hands tightened around his journal wherein he had penned several poems professing his devotion to you. He would never let you see them but his heart had always held a soft spot of the genre. It was a captivating means of embodying the truest forms of beauty and raw emotion. It was perfectly suited for you. 

 Zevlor lowered his eyes first, clearing his throat and flipping through his book. He pretended to look for something all the while feeling your eyes still on him.There were times he could have sworn that your eyes held something akin to -no he couldn’t think that. He pushed it from his head. Holding on to false hope would only make things more painful. 

 You stand and hold your sketchbook out in front of you, eyes darting between it and the land itself. 

 “Something just seems off.” You move back and forth trying to find just the right angle. “Zevlor, could you come here?” 

“Of course,” he stood to join you and to his great surprise you lightly placed your hands on his shoulders to adjust his position. 

“Right, so now,” you turned and held out your book once more. “You see how you can tell the natural depth of the trees? I feel like I’ve mucked up the shading somehow. Mine just looks all stacked over each other. What do you think?” 

Zevlor moved slightly forward, careful not to actually touch you, his head hovered just over your shoulder. He squinted, moving his eyes from the scenery to your sketch. As always he was impressed with your work and could make out no significant difference between the two. 

 “I may not have the skill to offer much help, to me the likeness is impeccable.” Zevlor turned his gaze to you and was suddenly hit with an intoxicating scent. Something fresh and sweet as an orange blossom filled his lungs. Had he never noticed or was this the closest he’d ever stood to you? He watched your lips- your full, perfectly shaped lips- curve into a smile. 

 “You’re too kind. I should probably leave it  for now. I’ve been staring so long my eyes are beginning-” Abruptly, you turned and lost your words. Your faces were no more than an inch apart.    

Zevlor froze, his eyes darting from yours to your still parted mouth. The paladin’s mind screamed at him to back away but his body was rooted in place. You let out a shaking breath before you closed the space between you and pressed your lips to his. A wave of shock snapped through Zevlor like a bolt of lightning. He had barely processed what was happening as he felt your hands press against his broad chest. How had he fallen into a dream without even realizing?

 Ever so slightly you pulled back to search Zevlor’s face with wide eyes. He cannot make sense of all the thoughts racing through his mind. Dream or not he can’t stomach the loss of contact. Curling his hand around the back of your neck he takes your lips hungrily with deep frantic kisses. You surrender to him happily as you fully part your lips welcoming him in. You both can’t help but moan at the taste of each other.    

  Tongues dancing, heads dizzy, Zevlor barely noticed he was moving until he had you pushed against a tree. He could barely think of anything apart from the warmth of your mouth. His body now fully pressed to you, he was half expecting for you to push him away. Again to his surprise your arms locked about him, your hands grabbing his armor as if to keep him as close as possible. Despite his blood running heavy with desire he kept his hands in place; one tangled in your hair, the other pressed firmly on your waist. 

The clash of metal on metal shot through the trees. Zevlor broke away from your embrace, mind snapping to action in case he had to defend you. Luckily the sound of multiple footsteps was followed by some familiar voices. 

“Those are brand new! Could you try being careful?” said one. 

“I am!” another answered. “I’d like to see you lift this much.” 

 It seemed their friends that had set off to barter down at the market had some success. Their voices echoed through the quiet woods as the party broke into two. One headed to the Grove the others settled in the grass not too far away.

“They’re back already?” the woe in your voice was apparent.  

  Zevlor casted his eyes away from your blushing faces. His senses were coming back to him and he was shocked by the brashness of his actions. The shame was drowned in an instant as your hand caressed his cheek, turning him back to you.                   

 “They’ll be looking for me. I promised to meet them and help with supper.” you sighed. “We should get back.” 

Your words though sensible were a knife to the chest. Despite his conflicting emotions he didn’t want the dream to end so quickly. He licked his lips trying to draw words but none would come. Confessions of love and longing thundered in his chest and he didn’t dare to let them out. 

“Zevlor,” his name had never sounded so honeyed. “Come to my tent tonight.” Your words are soft yet earnest. 

Zevlor’s flaming eyes studied you carefully. 

“You…” he speaks lowly. “You want this?” 

“Yes.” you placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

                                                               -

The preparations for dinner were a haze. You’d be methodically chopping carrots then suddenly be overcome with laughter. Your fellow cooks blamed it on too much sun, to which you gladly agreed. Being with Zevlor certainly felt as warm as sunlight. Once everything was ready and everyone gathered you sat as far from him as you could. The nerves and excitement tangling into you left you practically trembling. His closeness would only make it worse. That didn’t stop either of you from stealing glances throughout the meal.

Parting early you rushed to get back to your tent. You wanted to take your time bathing and fretting about what to wear, like some high lady. What were you in that moment if not a princess waiting for your valiant knight. Finally you were to be rescued from your aching loneliness and desire for the man that had done so much for you and your people. Painstakingly you smoothed the blankets over your bed roll, a smile on your lips. Zevlor was going to take you here, the very place you had pleasured yourself so many times to the thought of him.    

Night came and you waited nervously pacing the small interior of your tent. After much debate you had chosen to don a plain but revealing night dress. You hoped to make your affection for him very clear. Just as you began to question whether Zevlor would keep his word you heard his low voice break the silence.

 He was more dashing than you had ever seen him; dressed down, out of his armor, in a simple white ruffled shirt and brown trousers. Ever the gentlemen he held out a bouquet of wildflowers to you.    

 Trying your best not to swoon you took them and breathed in their sweetness. 

 “I did not want to be the only one surrounded by beauty tonight.” Zevlor offered. 

“You’re as humble as you are kind,” you smile, placing the flowers in a water jug. “Perhaps even too humble, if I may be so bold.” you move close to him. 

 “You may.” Zevlor breathes. He was awestruck at the sight of you, at the thinness of your gown, at everything you inspire in him. 

  Not wanting to waste another moment with the tiefling you adored, you pulled him into a kiss. As before you could feel passion coursing through him in seconds. His arms were tight around you pressing you to him, drawing a soft gasp for you. You could feel his warmth, his infernal ridges that decorated his chest rubbing against your hardening nipples. Creeping a hand up his shirt you savored the rich texture. Your desire for him stoked his courage as Zavlor explored your mouth with a ferocity you’d only dreamed of. He moved his hungry lips to your neck kissing and licking every inch he could get. 

A loud moan escaped you as he finally sank his teeth into you. Harder than you expected but not enough to draw blood. He sucked the skin, setting every part of you aflame. It was maddening, you were clinging to him but Zevlor had yet to move his hands from where they lay on you back.     

 With clumsy impatience you moved backward, pulling your knight with you down on the bed. Overcome with ever growing need you ripped away your night dress entirely and laid back completely exposed before Zevlor. You pressed your legs together, your wetness pooling as his infernal eyes raked over you. Certainly he would pounce, ravish you, take you as his own any second. To your dismay he pulled away a sudden concern washing over his face. 

 By the Gods Zevlor ached for you. But to see you like this, you were almost too lovely. In soul and in body. How could a fallen paladin like him be worthy of you?

“Zevlor?” you reach for him but still he makes no move.  

 He cursed himself, as always he’s making things worse. There's hurt building in your eyes, as if he could ever be displeased with you. Quelling your fears he lightly stroked your calf and planted a chaste kiss to your knee.

 “You’re perfect.” Zevlor smiled sadly. “You deserve better than an old man like me.”

 You let out a warm laugh. 

"Zevlor," you plead. "Touch me, please. Just look at what you do to me" 

You spread your legs before him, pulling a hungry moan from his throat. Your sex  glistened in the low light, ready for him. He can’t remember the last time he’s been so enchanted or afraid. Lovingly you take his hands in yours and kiss his palms and pressed them to your flesh. Soon they're moving on their own, spreading reverent caresses over every inch of you. His rough fingers toyed with the sensitive buds of your breast ripping a wanton moan from you. 

  Zevlor pressed flush against you, causing you to whimper at the sensation of his hard bulge on your thigh. His mouth is praising you with the fervor of a paladin. Kissing your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. Automatically you opened your legs wider, hoping to spur him on. He takes a moment to admire you, his fingers running over your sex. Ever so gently he spreads your folds and groans at the sight of you fluttering with excitement.  

 His cock was so full, aching for relief but his discomfort was outweighed by his desire to taste you. He dragged his tongue over you painfully slow, methodically working your lips and clit. You were whining and trembling for him in no time, begging for more. There was nothing he could deny you. Zevlor gripped your thighs tight trying to keep you still as he worshiped you with his mouth, lapping you up like a man starved. It was dizzying, you writhed loving how firmly he had you spread, how powerful and thorough his strokes had become.  

 Zevlor breathed you in. You were delicious; nothing short of addicting. He was overwhelmed by it all. How impossibly soft you were, how ardently you moaned his name. No longer able to stop himself he began rutting into the bedroll feverishly. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away from you no matter how badly he was dying to be thrusting into you. 

 “Zevlor-Gods please, please I’m so- I’m so-” your words turn into unintelligible sobs under his ministrations. Before long the heated flicks of his tongue push you over the edge, making your whole body shake, your hips grinding against his mouth. Your pussy’s sudden pulsing and wetness under his tongue was electrifying. White hot pleasure shot through Zevlor, before he could even think to stop himself he came hard groaning against you. 

You fell limp, still panting his name. Zevlor stayed pressed to you lightly tracing your folds. He was mortified, shame bubbling in his gut. Unsure of what to do he slowly pulled away from you and released his grip on your legs. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, making the paladin freeze. His concern turns to horror as he looks you over only to see the fresh red cuts his nails have left on your thighs. You passed your hand over the markings, wincing.

A pained gasp leaves him as he backs away from you. He hadn’t been thinking. How could he have let himself be so foolish, let his infernal nature get the best of him. One of the fears that had driven him away from you for so long had become reality. Somehow he had failed you as a lover by cumming so easily and he had hurt you from lack of care without even having been inside you.                                                                                                                       

“I-I, I didn’t-” He could barely get the words out, a mixture of panic and anguish seizing his heart. 

“Zevlor, it’s-” 

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to act so recklessly.” His words are laced with distress. Zevlor lowers his head, practically bowing before you. “Forgive me. I never meant to hurt you.” 

“Of course,” You reach for him but he stands, stepping away, eyes casted downward. 

“I shouldn’t have come here.” 

“It’s not- ahh- too bad.” you wince again as you stand to follow him.

“This was a mistake.” he shakes his head. “It won’t happen again,” 

 His words pierce you like a cold chill. 

 “What?” Your breath quickens, heat rising to your face. “No. I’m fine, it’s fine. Zevlor, please.” 

 Again you try to touch him but he moves away, eyes still not meeting yours. 

 “No. This-” he gestures between the two of you. “This shouldn’t be. I’m sorry.” 

 Before you can say anything Zevlor marches out of your tent into the night. You call after him, pleading for him to return. A part of you wanted to throw a blanket over yourself and run after him but you didn’t want to risk making a fool of yourself or of him. 

 You let out a cry, suddenly bursting into tears. The emotional whiplash of the day hit you hard. There’s a thousand desperate thoughts running through your mind. Overwhelmed, you curl up on your bed and sob softly into your pillow until sleep takes you.     

Thank you so much for reading <3

[simpingforcys]

To be laying beside (or on top) of the short racer king man holding him like a doll cupping his cheek that for some reason feels soft like a marshmallow maybe he programmed it himself who knows, caressing his face with your fingers while kissing him over and over<333 his little giggles and silly noises of "hoohoo~"s as you dote on him since he's not used to getting so close and personal with someone cuz of secret identity I mean what you're not suppose to know that hahaaaa

You lean in down to whisper in his ear "I love seeing you ride on those tracks... has anyone ridden you~?"

[pondhue]

tumblr hates fun apparently but if you like fun you can head over here ✨

[exitstageleft-pursuedbyabear]

Mary Shelly Eat Your Heart Out

Rating: Explicit

Fandoms: Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game)

Relationship: Rook/Emmrich Volkarin

Characters: Rook (Dragon Age) Emmrich VolkarinOriginal Elf Character(s) (Dragon Age)Original CharactersOriginal Non-Binary Character

Additional Tags: Rough Oral Sex, gratuitous making out, Age difference, first time together

Summary:

A romantic date in the Necropolis's memorial gardens escalates to rough oral sex against what could potentially be a grave or just monument of two skeletal lovers. Either way, it's quite fitting.

This is a companion piece to the last part of this series, Would you still have me?. As usual this can be read stand alone, the only context you need is that this is set in the fade to black of the Arrangments companion quest.

Notes:

Hello!

Welcome, or welcome back, to Love To Oblivion!

A non linear Emmrook series I post whenever I yearn for that old man.

Rook (Talin Aldwir) uses any pronouns and is a veil jumper mage (spirit healer and entropy), they are 21 to 26 years of age.

This is a direct continuation of Would You Still Have Me but can be read as stand alone.

The title of this fic in reference the Mary Shelly, author of Frankenstien, loosing her virginity of her parent's grave.

As usual, this has been beta read but my brain is broken (neurological disability) so there may still be some errors.

Enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

----------

Emmrich planned to be a gentleman.

He was, in fact, a gentleman. Polite and courteous, considerate and refined in all things. He prided himself on it. And when it came to wooing a paramour, he carried the same grace. Oh, sure he was no stranger to more... rough sensibilities. He'd had many experiences in his time and in certain contexts there was appeal to breaking his usual, respectful demeanour. But first dates, if you could consider this one, were for romance. Most of the time, anyway. He *was* young, once.

And oh does he feel young again, with Rook's mouth on his. He began to feel a suppressed hunger within them the second time they kissed that evening, and perhaps he should blame himself for the tangle they have ended up in. Rook kissed like they were afraid he was going to disappear, careful and closed mouthed as if not to scare him away. Emmrich had moved his hand to the back of their head and bit gently on their bottom lip, imploring them to let him in, and with a soft moan, they did. It was then he felt something *dangerous* bubbling beneath the surface.

Their tongues met, Rook's hand slid down to the small of his back, and they pulled him in closer. Warm bodies pressing together like they could phase into eachother.

As the kiss deepened, Rook gripped his shirt tight. He had them pressed against the stone of the lover's monument. It didn't escape his notice how his position and height left Rook nearly to his mercy.

One part of Emmrich's brain deciding to keep that in mind, so he did not overwhelm them or accidentally pressure them to continue. The other part, the burning fire in the pit of his stomach, relished the feeling.

It is now that the man feels he may have underestimated that surfacing hunger. He moves to step away from the kiss. To pet Rook's hair and make their way back to the lighthouse. Maybe have some tea next to the fire together and hear about the exploits of their friends that day.

Instead, a slight growl emerges from Rook's throat. It surprises him, a quieter version of the one he's heard them make right before the tides of battle turn in their favour, but no less vicious. It sends blood shooting downwards.

The elf's grip on the back of his shirt tightens as they surge forwards, recapturing his lips and knocking the breath out of him. The gates have been unlocked, all caution thrown to wind.

Rook is starving.

Emmrich pushes them back up against the stone, using the slight ledge to help lift them off the ground. It's the most wonderful sound when his leg slips between theirs. The hand not on his back clawing at hsi his shoulder, and damn it to the Abyss why does he wear so many layers.

Emmrich feels the struggle inside him. The rational, collected, smart part of him that is screaming at him to stop. This is slipping out of his control far too quickly, his plans shattering inbetween Rook's teeth. By the spirits they're so much younger than you, This is too soon, you're in the memorial gardens!

It's being steadily drowned out by the rushing in his ears.

He wants to *devour*.

A deep moan surfaces from the back of Rook's throat, as they can't help but grind on the leg holding them up against the monument. Emmrich's own hips purposefully still despite the desperate need fully aflame within him. He continues to have decorum, even with Rook's noises steadily chipping it away.

He parts their lips, enjoying the site of the dark green paint smudged out of place. Their pupils are blown dark and they pout at this new distance between the two of them. Rook moves to fill the gap but Emmrich puts a firm hand on their chest, pushing them back and holding them in place. He drinks in the reaction, a deeper blush on their already rouge darkened skin. A wiggle of their hips, an indignant squeak. Oh he is finding it so difficult to hang onto sensibility.

It takes him a moment longer than he anticipated to get ahold of himself, and Rook begins to push back against his hand. Not enough to break his grip, they aren't even trying. They're baiting him, he presses down harder.

"Rude!" They say with another pout, another wiggle. This time moving their own leg to rub against him. He gasps at the desperately sought friction, Rook grins. Their eyes sparkle with mischief.

He is going to *ruin them*.

Emmrich nips at their chin gently, begins to place kisses across their jaw, illiciting a pleasant hum from his lover. In the soft space between their jaw and their ear, he nips again and Rook's sharp breath is followed by giggles.

"You can go harder than that, love"

Ah, he had a feeling.

'"Patience, darling" smooth, dripping with desire and promise. He kisses down their neck, relishing in the sweet music they make. Rook may be his favourite instrument to play.

Emmrich's kisses turn to sharp little bites, canines catching on loose skin.

His instrument sings in response, urging him to bite down harde.

Their hands fly up to his hair, gently pulling at him. He stops.

"D-down. Under the collar" It's breathless, the air growing shallow the more it hurts. Something deep within him twirls at the thought. He obliges, suddenly thankful for rooks open collar, as much as he usually curses it for the temptation it brings.

Emmrich pulls the cloth open further, eyes focused on the tender part where their neck meets their shoulder. The skin is lighter here, ashier where it's shaded from the Rivain sun. He kisses it first, lovingly.

Cherishing how perfect it is.

Rook whines above him, one leg hooking around him. It pulls them closer together, already practically melded to eachothers bodies. The additional contact nearly shuts his brain off and he bites down. Hard.

The younger nearly sees stars. Euphoria mixed with dull pain, flooding their nervous system. Emmrich's mouth on their neck, warm body weight pressing them against cool stone. It's perfect, he's perfect. They feel as if he's not gotten enough appreciation for that fact.

A gentle kiss over bruised skin,

"I think I may have left a mark", Emmrich says after his mouth has left them. Their foreheads are pressed together now, gazes boreing into eachother. They need him more they've needed anything else before. With brave spark, Rook moves one hand to cup him, careful with the pressure. Emmrich fails to bite back a moan.

'"H- Rook~" falls from his lips, tone nothing like they've heard before. Rook loves it.

"Is this ok?"

"Y- Yes. Yes of course it is, dear, but if yo-"

Rook shuts him up with a kiss, biting his bottom lip, inviting themselves in. No, none of that. They've never been sure of anything in their life. Any action they take riddled with 'what ifs' And doubt. But this? Emmrich against them, writhing under their touch? They want more, they *more* and they know it.

It's nearly the hardest thing they've ever done to push him away, but needs must. Emmrich's hands move to their hips, careful to keep his distance, resolve waning by every second. He thinks this is it, Rook has taken the ball from his court and the end approaches. Then he is spun around, back against the Lover's statue.

And Rook is on their knees.

It's the most beautiful peice of art Emmrich has ever seen. The greenery and cobble of the gardens framing their face, open mouth and eyes pleading. Their hands hovering over his fly.

"Please." The mage nearly comes undone from that word alone. His mind repeats 'Rook. Rook. Rook' A million times per second.

"How can I refuse such a pretty request?" In mere moments, he is in Rook's hand. It's been awhile since they've seen a cock, let alone touched one. In a way, he's mesmerising. Eyes raking up from the base to the tip, hand applying different pressures, playing with the expressions Emmrich makes.

They take their hand away, and he can't help the whine he makes, only to nearly collapse as Rook spits in their hand. That should not be as hot as it is, with their mouth inches away from his dick.

It's been a long time since anything but his own hand has touched him. And for it to be beautiful, intelligent, indomitable Rook.

When their mouth touches him, he's holding on by the thinnest thread. They lick up his shaft, lingering teasingly on the head. He's being good, he's being respectful. He's going to loose his fucking mind.

With a pop, they take him. Just the tip but it's nearly enough to send him over. Swirling their tongue, over the slit. And then, down. Halfway, then up. Halfway, then up. Creators, does he taste amazing. Salty and clean in the same measure. Emmrich is uttering their name a thousand times, switching between them.

"Talin" He mumbles and they hum, sending ripples throughout him.

Fully down, with their eyes wide staring straight up at him. He bucks his hips, unable to stop their movement. Rook chokes slightly with the surprise and he would be a damn liar if he said he didn't go wild at the feeling. But he's still holding on-

"Talin- Rook, darling, I'm sorry, I didnt mean-" He stops speaking, words dying in his throat. He thought he knew the depths of this desire before, but he was a fool.

"Fuck. Emmrich." They continue stroking him as they speak, eyes downcast, "you can- you can move if you want."

His hands fall to Rook hair. The pins loose and falling out. It's not much of a braid any more, it'll be non existent by the time he's done.

"Tell me what *you* want, darling."

They swallow, tongue falling out without control. Their eyes are still on his cock. No, he won't make it that easy. He firmly grabs a hold of their chin.

"Look at me, Rook. Tell me what you want."

Rooks eyes shoot to his. Their cheeks that brilliant rose gold. A string of elven falls from their lips and Emmrich feels so proud of himself for elliciting it.

"Creators, Emmrich. Just fucking. Use me."

Snap, everything holding him together crumbles away. Reservations about who they are and where they are dissapearing in the Necropolises cool wind.

Neither has noticed the chill.

Emmrich's hold on Rook's hair tightens, they loose themselves for a brief moment in the esctasy of the sharp sting. Until he pulls them over the head of his cock, hips rising to meet them.

It's a rough, carnal rhythm. Their throat is tight and he can feel the way in clenches around him. Rook's mind goes blank, full and suffocating. Does it last minutes? Hours? They have no idea, lost in noisea of Emmrich above them.

"Good boy. Good girl. So unbelievably perfect for me." He notices the change in tone with each compliment. A pleased hum, a deep moan, somehow both at the same time. He continues to spill forth a litany of adoration, changing the gendered nature of each phrase as he roughly fucks their throat.

Emmrich slows after a moment, letting Rook catch their breath and notices the one hand not gripping his hips for dear life, buried in their lap. His cock rests across their cheek, streaked with running eyeliner. Of all the sights he's seen over the years, of the journeys they've led together, nothing could ever compare to this.

"You looked absolutely wrecked, darling. My, what would the others say if they saw you like this for me?" Emmrich can't help himself, proud of the position he has Rook in, extatic that *he* is who they're on their knees for.

For a split second he's worried he's gone to far when their eyes widen, the gold in the green highlighted by the minimal light. But the most *perverted* sound escapes their throat in response and Emmrich is surprised he had any more composure to loose.

He enters Rook's mouth again slowly, guiding them all the way down, holding for a few seconds until they splutter and tears escape the sides of their eyes and then back up again. They give him the most cock drunk gaze. He feels himself throb in response.

Down and up again, increasing the length he holds them there for. Seeing how much they can take. It's like he hits a button that shuts their brain off, all they can think of is Emmrich and the cock he's burying inside them.

"I'm going to use this lovely throat of yours until I'm satisfied, my dear, and you are going to touch yourself as I do"

The combination of noise and expression Rook makes at his words is utterly sinful, their mouth opening wider, their eyes trained on him. Emmrich moves his hips again, guiding their head with one hand, moving the other to their throat. He can feel himself fill them, feel the bulge everytime he enters to the hilt. Darling Rook, taking him so well. The picture of a a young, intelligent, strong adventurer turned into an utter mess by him.

Rook dutifully follows his instructions, not that their body gives them much choice. They rub themselves through their underclothes, whines bubbling in the back of their throat. Emmrich's leg slips forward slightly, not enough to set him off balanced or distract him from his task, though it's left his boot placed just in front of Rook's crotch.

Perhaps if they were in a less sex addled mind, more full of air, not consumed by the pain of kneeling on hard stone, they would feel any hesitation whatsoever forwhat they're about to do. Maybe they will feel embarrassed for this later, hoping the Emmrich will still look at them the same.

Rook moves their hips and grinds against his boot. The warm leather and humiliation feeling so much better than their hand. Emmrich's eyes open at the touch, barely able to comprehend what he's seeing. His proud lover humping in earnest against his leg, feral and desperate. He's hit his fucking limit.

"Rook- I'm-" He goes to warn them, Rook grabs onto both of his hips, holding him entirely sheathed as he empties himself in their throat. Emmrich sees sparks, speaks a breathless "Talin~" Out into the otherwise still garden air. Rook's eyes roll back in their head, completely wrapped up in subspace. He spasms inside them, they can feel his quickened pulse on their tongue.

He can feel then swallow to their best of their ability, milking out whatever he has to give them. Emmmrich pulls out slowly, enjoying the white that stains Rook's lips. Then it's gone in a moment as they lick it away, then open their mouth to show his remaining seed, and again after they swallow it all down, proud. It's absolutely obscene. He loves it.

"That was. Not how I expected evening to go."

He leans back against monument, fatigue beginning to catch him. He puts himself away and then smooths down Rooks hair as they lean on his knee, humming happily with their eyes closed. It's such a soft frame in comparison to just a few minutes ago. Emmrich's heart feels so full in his chest, every doubt he has had quiet, just for this moment.

"Now, would you like some water, dear?"

----------

Notes:

Oh! They have a playlist now:

[tarrenterror25]

I want that old man to look like a shriveled up Capri-Sun pouch by the time I’m done sucking the soul outta him.

[doggoboigaugau]

(nsfw) Ghost x Soap x Male Y/n

haha kinda based on my fic Stray dog P4

Roach is just an innocent babi 👍 love him <3

he he he he he he 😈

i like to think that Soap is the most dominant one in the relationship. like Ghost is the strict top but he still listens to Soap ordering around like a good ol' boi 😌👌✨✨✨

Price is too old for this... ヘ(´－｀;)ヘ

[herdadsblog-1]

You are right , I’m the one who would make better use of your trauma and take advantage of you !