tavernsoftemptation

[tavernsoftemptation]

Deep, image 22 for Elysia

Reference; for @aegirborne

Elysia let out a soft, breathy moan as she felt him push into her, inch by aching inch. Her blue eyes, wide with heat and wonder, flicked downward to watch the slow, intimate joining of their bodies—his length sliding into her with deliberate care. Her slick walls clenched tightly around him, drawing him in deeper, holding him there like she never wanted to let him go.

“You feel so good inside of me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with pleasure as her hands curled against the sheets. Her body welcomed him eagerly, warmth pulsing around him as she rolled her hips upward, meeting his thrust with a desperate need that burned just beneath her skin.

Her golden hair spilled around her flushed face, her breath catching every time he moved—each stroke a delicious stretch that made her toes curl. Elysia arched up again, silently begging for more, eyes never leaving his as her thighs squeezed around him. In that moment, she wasn’t just the gentle healer or the calm voice in prayer—she was his, open and aching, letting him in with every breath and every shiver.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Roderic groaned deeply, the sound raw in his throat as his hips snapped forward, again and again, driving into her with a wild, almost desperate rhythm. The room echoed with the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies meeting, the scent of sweat and sex heavy in the air. It had been so long—so damn long—since he’d felt something like this, someone like her beneath him. And yet, his body remembered. The instincts were still there, honed from youth, now sharpened by years of restrained hunger.

His hand tangled tightly in her hair, pulling her back just enough to bare the curve of her throat to him. His other hand gripped her waist like armor—firm, grounding, unyielding—as he angled his thrusts to hit the places that made her cry out for him. Every moan she gave, every tremble in her body, drove him to fuck her harder, deeper, as though making up for all the years he had denied himself.

“Tell me if I’m being too rough with you,” he rumbled, voice low and stoic, but cracked with lust. The control he was known for on the battlefield wavered here, undone by the way her body responded to him, by the need clawing up his spine. His jaw clenched, blue eyes burning as he watched her writhe beneath him—beautiful, breathless, and his. Roderic wasn’t stopping until she couldn’t remember anything but his name.

rough 4 roderic

reference; for @beginngsining

Roderic’s grip tightened in her hair as he pulled her head back just enough to watch her expression—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, flushed and panting beneath him. His powerful thrusts rocked the table beneath them, wood creaking in time with every slick, punishing motion of his hips. The old knight’s blue eyes flicked down, watching with open hunger as his cock disappeared into her soaked folds again and again, each plunge deeper than the last.

His silver-white hair clung to his temples, sweat beading on his brow, but he looked every bit the proud warrior he once was—scarred, strong, and still commanding. “Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?” he asked, voice a low, rumbling drawl as he gave a rough thrust. A grunt followed, deep in his throat, as his free hand slid down to her chest, fingers calloused from battle now teasing and tugging at her with surprising tenderness.

Roderic leaned forward, pressing his weight into her as he moved faster, his breath hot against her cheek. The scent of leather, steel, and lust filled the room, mixing with the faint scent of old wine and the tavern’s flickering hearth. “You feel perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than her, as if the pleasure grounding him now was a reward for surviving every war, every wound. And tonight—tonight she was his battlefield, and he was determined to conquer every inch.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Cylas moaned through gritted teeth as he felt her shudder beneath him, the way her body clung to his cock only driving him deeper into haze and heat. His hips snapped forward harder now, rougher, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the small, dim tavern room. A sheen of sweat glistened on his pale skin, and his long silver hair clung to his brow as he leaned over her, breath ragged and chest heaving.

“A beautiful woman in the same room as me is one thing,” he panted, voice thick with disbelief and lust. One hand gripped her hip tightly, while the other slid up to brace against the small of her back, grounding himself as the rhythm of his thrusts grew more urgent. “But to have her bent over like this—taking me so damn well—” he groaned, rolling his hips, hitting deeper with every stroke, “gods, that’s the kind of thing a drunk like me can only dream of.”

He chuckled, breathless and low, his fingers tightening just slightly as he fucked her with a mixture of reverence and need. Cylas leaned in, brushing a kiss to her shoulder, a wicked smile on his lips. “And I don’t plan on waking up any time soon.”

deep 12 Cylas

reference; for @beginngsining

Cylas groaned, head tilting back for a moment as her body pressed firmly against his, taking him deeper with every push of her hips. The couch beneath them creaked with the rhythm of their movements, worn cushions doing little to muffle the raw heat of their union. His pale hair clung to his flushed face, a sheen of sweat along his brow as he held tight to her hips, guiding her into each hard thrust. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathed, the words slurred with lust and drink, but no less sincere.

His fingers curled possessively into her skin, urging her back against him as his pace quickened, the wet sound of their bodies filling the dim, firelit room. Cylas had always been charming—a flirt, a rogue, a sweet-talking bard when he wanted to be—but even he hadn’t believed his luck when she’d ended up here, naked and panting, wrapped around his cock like she was made for him. “Gods,” he moaned, voice low and shaky, “never thought I’d have someone like you in my bed—on my couch, even.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing down the curve of her back as he drove into her again. Every thrust was laced with awe, hunger, and just the faintest disbelief that she was here, real, and his—for tonight, at least.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Cylas’s breath caught at her words, a soft flush rising to his pale cheeks. For all his charm and teasing bravado, he hadn’t expected someone like Seraphina—a radiant cleric with fire in her spirit and grace in her touch—to feel something deeper for someone like him. But as her eyes met his with open desire and something more tender just beneath, he felt the truth of it settle in his chest like a quiet flame.

He pulled her close, arms wrapping tightly around her as he captured her lips in a kiss that was more than just lust—it was longing, fear, hope. His hips moved harder now, driven not just by need but by emotion, thrusting up into her with a rough, reverent rhythm that made her gasp into his mouth. “I won’t stop, Sera,” he whispered, voice shaking as he spoke against her lips. “As long as you want this—want me—I’ll be here. I’ll give you everything.”

Cylas guided her movements with care, helping her ride him with deep, steady strokes that left them both trembling. The room was filled with the sound of their bodies, the wet slap of skin and the quiet, aching moans that passed between kisses. In that moment, tangled together in sweat and whispered promises, nothing else mattered. Just her—warm, wanting, and his.

M XF D5 Cylas and Seraphina

Rituals of flesh; Seraphina romance for @tavernsoftemptation

Seraphina couldn’t believe how far she'd let herself fall. Of all people—Cylas, the local drunk. But after a few drinks, after his surprisingly charming words and rough hands, she’d found herself being led upstairs, her thoughts muddled by wine and heat. Now, straddling him in the dim candlelight of a rented room above the tavern, her golden hair stuck to her flushed skin as she moaned, slowly grinding her hips down onto his cock.

The cleric bit her lip, a mix of shame and pleasure clouding her gaze as she moved atop him, the stretch and fullness making her tremble with every slow roll of her hips. Cylas’ hands weren’t idle—his calloused fingers played with her breasts, teasing her nipples as he smirked up at her like he’d won some unspeakable prize.

“You will tell no one of this, Cylas,” she hissed, her voice sharp even as it quivered with need. Her tone held authority, but the way she bit down on her bottom lip, how her body rocked against his with such desperate rhythm, betrayed just how deeply she was enjoying it. Her blue eyes flickered with conflict—divine shame and carnal surrender locked in battle. But the way his cock filled her, the way his rough thumb teased over her peak, only pulled her deeper into the sin she couldn't bring herself to stop.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Lucan let out a low, satisfied groan as he felt her tighten around him, her body responding perfectly to every deep, hungry thrust. His hand tangled tighter in her hair, guiding her head back just enough to press his lips close to her ear, his breath hot and ragged. His thick cock drove into her with a steady, forceful rhythm, wet sounds filling the small seaside cabin as he buried himself to the hilt again and again.

A grin tugged at his lips, all rough affection and teasing heat as he leaned his broad chest over her back, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress in the most delicious way. “Tell me, succubus,” he whispered, voice thick with lust and amusement, “what do you feed on? My soul, my lust… or my seed?” The question rolled off his tongue like a taunt, playful but edged with something darker—something wanting.

He rolled his hips into her deliberately, grinding deep as if daring her to answer, to take more from him—if she could. Lucan’s body moved with unrelenting rhythm, driven by more than just physical need now. There was desire in the way he held her, yes—but also curiosity. Obsession. Wonder at how someone could feel this good, drive him this wild. “Or maybe you want it all,” he growled softly, nipping at the shell of her ear as he kept thrusting, deeper, harder, chasing both pleasure and surrender in her heat.

Rough 7 Lucan

reference; for @beginngsining

Lucan’s breath came hot and heavy as he loomed over her, his broad chest brushing against the curve of her back with every punishing thrust. The room smelled of salt and sweat, the sea just beyond the walls whispering like a witness to their sin. His grip on her hair was firm, possessive, holding her in place as he sank deep into her over and over, each roll of his hips sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through them both. “That’s it,” he growled low against her ear, voice thick with lust. “Take every inch like the perfect little thing you are.”

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, his hand sliding down her spine before gripping her hip, anchoring her in place as he fucked her harder. Her moans only made him bolder, more ravenous. “Didn’t think someone like you could take it—but gods, you’re proving me wrong, aren’t you?” he purred, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his beard scraping her skin with delicious friction. “Taking me so well, like you were made for it.”

Lucan’s pace stayed merciless, his large frame enveloping hers as he drove her into the mattress, all strength and intent. Every cry, every shiver she gave him, only pushed him further—drunk on the feel of her, the sound of their bodies colliding, the knowledge that she wanted him this way. And gods, he wasn’t stopping until she was shaking and breathless beneath him, her name a prayer on his tongue.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Lucan was caught slightly off guard by her response, not expecting her to take his teasing so seriously. But the surprise quickly melted into amusement, and a quiet chuckle escaped him. Her sincerity added a layer of intrigue he hadn't anticipated, and when she asked him to fish for her, his gaze settled on her with newfound focus, his dark eyes gleaming with interest.

“Of course, my lady,” he said smoothly, the playful edge returning to his voice. “But my fishin’ don’t come free. There’s a cost—if you’re willin’ to pay it.” He kept his tone light, but there was something steady and earnest beneath the words, a quiet challenge wrapped in humor.

“I’ll have you eatin’ for weeks after just one afternoon,” he added, his voice confident, almost proud. Then, without flinching, he named his price. “But the cost is one night—one date. To show this old lowly fisherman that you meant what you said, that everyone really does have a chance.”

He held her gaze, the teasing smile still on his lips, but his words carried a weight that lingered in the air between them. For Lucan, this was more than a bargain. It was a test, and perhaps, a hope.

@tavernsoftemptation

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something about it.” from either Lucan or Cylas

Sothis continued to stare intently at the man, her gaze not once leaving his form. She’s taking every little detail in. She wasn’t too phased by the threat. After all, what could one man do?

“Looking at you how so?” She asked innocently. She was only staring. Nothing wrong in the slightest. But she knew how intense her gaze could be. Perhaps too intense.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Roran groaned through gritted teeth as his hips snapped forward again, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing through the room in wet, rhythmic slaps. His grip on her side tightened, fingers digging into her soft flesh to keep her steady, to guide her perfectly along the length of his thick, pulsing cock. Each thrust was rough, purposeful—driven by years of restraint and a hunger that felt dangerously close to unhinged.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, voice dark with pleasure, “but… different than what I’m used to.” His brows furrowed slightly, though the smirk never left his lips. There was something in the way she clenched around him, the way her body responded—it was more than just lust.

Roran rolled his hips, slower this time, deeper, savoring the slick heat of her as he looked down at her beneath him. His dark grey hair hung in damp strands around his face, shadowing the flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “Are you human?” he asked, voice rough but laced with something softer—wonder, suspicion, intrigue. But still, his body never stopped moving, never stopped claiming her like he needed to feel every answer through the way she trembled around him.

deep 21 Roran

reference; for @beginngsining

Roran’s moan rumbled low in his throat as he buried himself deep into her, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the dimly lit room. His hand gripped her firmly, holding her steady as he moved with practiced, hungry rhythm—each thrust a declaration of how badly he wanted her. His graying hair clung to his sweat-dampened brow, eyes dark with a hunger that burned hotter than any spell he’d ever cast. “You feel so damn good wrapped around my cock like this,” he groaned, voice roughened by age and arousal.

The older warlock leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he thrust harder, deeper. “Tell me,” he whispered, a teasing edge in his breath, “you like how this old cock fucks you?” He grinned. “Never thought someone as gorgeous as you would want a broken old wizard,” he murmured, the words soft but soaked in lust, reverent and disbelieving all at once.

His free hand traced up her spine, feeling the way she arched into him, craving more, taking everything he gave. Roran’s pace stayed relentless, spurred on by the way she gasped for him, responded to him. There was no magic in the room, no runes or rituals—only the raw, sacred rhythm of two bodies colliding in heat, and the old man who’d never felt more alive than he did with her under him, taking him so perfectly.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Drakor’s smile curved with wicked satisfaction, the candlelight catching on the sharp edges of his teeth as he leaned in closer, breath hot against her skin. His hips snapped forward with renewed force, the thick weight of his knot slapping wetly against her with each punishing thrust, echoing off the tavern room’s stone walls. One powerful arm wrapped tightly around her midsection, pulling her flush against the hard, scaled ridges of his chest, while the other braced by her head to keep them steady as the bed beneath them rocked with every deep, claiming stroke.

Her body took him beautifully, gripping around his thick cock in a way that made him groan, made him want to lose himself in her completely. The pressure building at his base throbbed, his knot swelling with the promise of more, but still he held it just at the edge—teasing, testing, enjoying how she strained for it.

“I’m not disappointed,” Drakor growled low against her ear, voice deep and rough with pleasure. “That means I can be as rough as I want with you.” And with that, he slammed into her harder, hips grinding, forcing her to feel every ridged inch, every hungry thrust, as if trying to brand her from the inside out. His claws didn’t come out, but his grip tightened with possessive hunger, and his pace never slowed—driving her toward the inevitable moment where she’d be tied, trembling, and full of him.

Deep 14 Drakor

reference; for @beginngsining

Deakor loomed over her, his powerful form silhouetted in the low candlelight of the tavern room. Crimson scales shimmered faintly with each subtle movement, his claws digging lightly into the curve of her thighs as he held her at the bed’s edge, perfectly positioned for him. Her legs were wrapped around his sculpted hips, her body trembling beneath his as heat pulsed between them. He grinned, teeth sharp, eyes molten with desire. “Say it,” he rumbled, the pointed tip of his cock tapping teasingly against her slick folds. “Do you want this dragonborn cock?”

He pushed forward slowly, the thick, hot tip spreading her open as he eased inside, growling low at the way she clung to him. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, his hips rolling with unhurried, savoring motion until he pressed against the thick knot nestled at his base. “Mm, gods, you take me so well,” he purred, voice dark and reverent.

He leaned forward, bracing himself over her as he began to move—deep, dragging thrusts that let her feel every ridge, every bit of him. The bed creaked with each powerful motion, and his grip on her thighs tightened possessively. Deakor watched her writhe beneath him, her pleasure fueling the fire already burning in his veins. “You’re not getting off this bed,” he murmured with a feral grin, “not until I’ve tied you good and full.”

[tavernsoftemptation]

The knight and the prince

closed starter for @hellforestrp

The old knight moved with quiet purpose through the grand halls of the palace, his boots echoing faintly against the marble floor. His weathered hand rested briefly on the ornate handle before he pushed open the door to the younger prince’s chamber. Sunlight filtered in through the tall windows, casting a soft glow over the room. Roderic made his way across the floor, stopping beside the bed where the prince lay sleeping.

With a slow, practiced motion, he dropped to one knee, his old joints protesting slightly. He reached out and gently shook the young man’s shoulder, careful not to startle him. “My prince,” he murmured, voice low and gravelly with age. “You need to wake up.” There was no urgency in his tone, just quiet insistence.

Roderic’s sharp blue eyes, weathered by years of battle and service, fixed intently on the prince's pale face. The young man looked almost ethereal in sleep. The knight didn’t speak again right away—he simply waited, patient but watchful, the silence heavy with unspoken concern.

[tavernsoftemptation]

The Hunt

closed starter for @hellforestrp

The young huntress moved with practiced grace through the dense forest, her footsteps light against the underbrush. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, dappling her tanned skin and the folds of her worn blue cloak. She had tracked this elusive duo for weeks—through crowded towns, across open plains, always one step behind. They were the bounty that slipped through her fingers time and again, the hunt that had come to haunt her pride. But not this time.

Selene pressed forward, every movement deliberate, every sound muffled by years of experience. Her body was poised and alert, her senses sharp as a blade. She could feel it—this chase was nearing its end. The trail was fresh, the signs too recent to ignore. A flicker of tension wound through her muscles, but her expression remained calm, focused.

Hidden beneath the hood of her cloak, her dark brown hair blended easily with the shadows. Her amber eyes scanned the tree line ahead with unflinching precision, searching for even the slightest movement. The forest was quiet, but she knew better than to trust stillness. Somewhere nearby, her targets moved—and she was finally in the right place to intercept them.

Selene’s breath was slow and measured as she crouched low, bow in hand, the wind at her back. She had come too far to fail again. This time, she wasn’t just chasing a bounty. She was reclaiming her reputation—and she intended to finish what she started.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Lucan glanced down at the green-haired woman, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was something amused in his expression, a quiet mischief behind his eyes. “You look like you want to devour me, my lady,” he said, his voice light but edged with boldness. The dark strands of his hair partially veiled his eyes, making his gaze all the more enigmatic as he studied her.

He tilted his head slightly, letting the moment hang between them before adding with a teasing grin, “Or is it that you’re hoping I’ll be the one to devour you instead?” A rich laugh rumbled from his chest, genuine yet laced with flirtation. Lucan clearly enjoyed playing with danger—especially when it came in such an alluring form.

Then, as if reining himself back from the edge of impropriety, he dipped his head respectfully. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, his tone softening. “I know a humble fisherman like myself is far beneath your notice, let alone your desire.” Yet even in his apology, there was a glint in his eye that suggested he didn’t entirely believe his own words.

@tavernsoftemptation

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something about it.” from either Lucan or Cylas

Sothis continued to stare intently at the man, her gaze not once leaving his form. She’s taking every little detail in. She wasn’t too phased by the threat. After all, what could one man do?

“Looking at you how so?” She asked innocently. She was only staring. Nothing wrong in the slightest. But she knew how intense her gaze could be. Perhaps too intense.

[tavernsoftemptation]

rough 4 roderic

reference; for @beginngsining

Roderic’s grip tightened in her hair as he pulled her head back just enough to watch her expression—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, flushed and panting beneath him. His powerful thrusts rocked the table beneath them, wood creaking in time with every slick, punishing motion of his hips. The old knight’s blue eyes flicked down, watching with open hunger as his cock disappeared into her soaked folds again and again, each plunge deeper than the last.

His silver-white hair clung to his temples, sweat beading on his brow, but he looked every bit the proud warrior he once was—scarred, strong, and still commanding. “Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?” he asked, voice a low, rumbling drawl as he gave a rough thrust. A grunt followed, deep in his throat, as his free hand slid down to her chest, fingers calloused from battle now teasing and tugging at her with surprising tenderness.

Roderic leaned forward, pressing his weight into her as he moved faster, his breath hot against her cheek. The scent of leather, steel, and lust filled the room, mixing with the faint scent of old wine and the tavern’s flickering hearth. “You feel perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than her, as if the pleasure grounding him now was a reward for surviving every war, every wound. And tonight—tonight she was his battlefield, and he was determined to conquer every inch.

[tavernsoftemptation]

deep 12 Cylas

reference; for @beginngsining

Cylas groaned, head tilting back for a moment as her body pressed firmly against his, taking him deeper with every push of her hips. The couch beneath them creaked with the rhythm of their movements, worn cushions doing little to muffle the raw heat of their union. His pale hair clung to his flushed face, a sheen of sweat along his brow as he held tight to her hips, guiding her into each hard thrust. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathed, the words slurred with lust and drink, but no less sincere.

His fingers curled possessively into her skin, urging her back against him as his pace quickened, the wet sound of their bodies filling the dim, firelit room. Cylas had always been charming—a flirt, a rogue, a sweet-talking bard when he wanted to be—but even he hadn’t believed his luck when she’d ended up here, naked and panting, wrapped around his cock like she was made for him. “Gods,” he moaned, voice low and shaky, “never thought I’d have someone like you in my bed—on my couch, even.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing down the curve of her back as he drove into her again. Every thrust was laced with awe, hunger, and just the faintest disbelief that she was here, real, and his—for tonight, at least.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Lucan’s smile curved slow and heated, his dark eyes fixed on the way her body moved beneath him. His fingers dug into her hips—strong, calloused hands holding her steady as he picked up the pace, each wet slap of his hips against her echoing through the quiet of the room. “Oh? Made for this, are you?” he teased, breathless, his voice roughened with arousal and just a hint of curiosity.

He rolled his hips deliberately, grinding into her with a deep, dragging thrust that made her tremble. Lucan leaned forward slightly, one hand sliding along her back, palm warm against her slick skin as he spoke again—quieter, closer, the edge of a smirk in his tone. “And pray tell… why is that?” he murmured, his lips brushing her shoulder. “Why do you think you’re made to take me like this?”

He didn’t stop moving, didn’t ease up—if anything, the question fueled him. Each stroke hit deeper, more precise, as if trying to draw the truth from her with every thrust. Lucan wanted to hear it in her voice, feel it in her body—why she thought she belonged here, under him, taking every inch like she was born for it.

Rough 7 Lucan

reference; for @beginngsining

Lucan’s breath came hot and heavy as he loomed over her, his broad chest brushing against the curve of her back with every punishing thrust. The room smelled of salt and sweat, the sea just beyond the walls whispering like a witness to their sin. His grip on her hair was firm, possessive, holding her in place as he sank deep into her over and over, each roll of his hips sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through them both. “That’s it,” he growled low against her ear, voice thick with lust. “Take every inch like the perfect little thing you are.”

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, his hand sliding down her spine before gripping her hip, anchoring her in place as he fucked her harder. Her moans only made him bolder, more ravenous. “Didn’t think someone like you could take it—but gods, you’re proving me wrong, aren’t you?” he purred, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his beard scraping her skin with delicious friction. “Taking me so well, like you were made for it.”

Lucan’s pace stayed merciless, his large frame enveloping hers as he drove her into the mattress, all strength and intent. Every cry, every shiver she gave him, only pushed him further—drunk on the feel of her, the sound of their bodies colliding, the knowledge that she wanted him this way. And gods, he wasn’t stopping until she was shaking and breathless beneath him, her name a prayer on his tongue.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Roran’s smile deepened, weathered but warm, as her words settled in his ears and her body clenched tighter around him. His breath hitched, and with a groan he snapped his hips forward, the pace growing rougher, more urgent. He couldn’t hold back—didn’t want to. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this old mage, my dear,” he murmured, voice low and breathless as he leaned into her, every roll of his hips meant to claim and savor.

The way she responded to him—so eager, so damn perfect—lit a fire in his blood that made him feel decades younger. He dragged a hand down her back, slow and reverent, before gripping her hip again and pulling her tighter against him. “Fuck, you are such a cute, sexy little thing, aren’t you?” Roran grunted, pleasure crackling through every word as he thrust into her, deep and deliberate.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, letting himself feel all of her—the warmth, the wet, the way she welcomed him in like she’d been waiting just for this. Just for him. The soft sounds she made, the way her body arched to meet his—gods, it made his chest ache with something deeper than lust. And he wasn’t stopping until he’d given her everything he had to offer.

deep 21 Roran

reference; for @beginngsining

Roran’s moan rumbled low in his throat as he buried himself deep into her, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the dimly lit room. His hand gripped her firmly, holding her steady as he moved with practiced, hungry rhythm—each thrust a declaration of how badly he wanted her. His graying hair clung to his sweat-dampened brow, eyes dark with a hunger that burned hotter than any spell he’d ever cast. “You feel so damn good wrapped around my cock like this,” he groaned, voice roughened by age and arousal.

The older warlock leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he thrust harder, deeper. “Tell me,” he whispered, a teasing edge in his breath, “you like how this old cock fucks you?” He grinned. “Never thought someone as gorgeous as you would want a broken old wizard,” he murmured, the words soft but soaked in lust, reverent and disbelieving all at once.

His free hand traced up her spine, feeling the way she arched into him, craving more, taking everything he gave. Roran’s pace stayed relentless, spurred on by the way she gasped for him, responded to him. There was no magic in the room, no runes or rituals—only the raw, sacred rhythm of two bodies colliding in heat, and the old man who’d never felt more alive than he did with her under him, taking him so perfectly.

[tavernsoftemptation]

Drakor let out a low, guttural moan as he buried himself fully inside her, the heat of her body clenching tightly around his thick length. He held still for a moment, letting her adjust to the sheer size of him—letting her feel every inch. His breath came heavy through flared nostrils, eyes locked on the way her body accepted him, wrapped around him. Then, slowly, he began to move—deliberate, grinding thrusts that let her feel every ridged inch of his draconic cock.

“I never thought humans would want a dragon’s cock,” he muttered, voice low and husky as his gaze bore into her. “But here you are… warm, eager, and so damn ready to be filled by me.” His claws curled into her hips—not harsh, but firm—anchoring her to him as he set a slow, steady rhythm, letting the tension build with every deep thrust.

Drakor leaned in slightly, his breath hot against her skin as he moved, savoring every quiver and gasp she gave him. “You seem different,” he murmured, reverent and curious all at once. “Not afraid. Not ashamed. Like you were made for this.” The pace never faltered—measured, possessive, dragging pleasure out until they both trembled with it.

Deep 14 Drakor

reference; for @beginngsining

Deakor loomed over her, his powerful form silhouetted in the low candlelight of the tavern room. Crimson scales shimmered faintly with each subtle movement, his claws digging lightly into the curve of her thighs as he held her at the bed’s edge, perfectly positioned for him. Her legs were wrapped around his sculpted hips, her body trembling beneath his as heat pulsed between them. He grinned, teeth sharp, eyes molten with desire. “Say it,” he rumbled, the pointed tip of his cock tapping teasingly against her slick folds. “Do you want this dragonborn cock?”

He pushed forward slowly, the thick, hot tip spreading her open as he eased inside, growling low at the way she clung to him. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, his hips rolling with unhurried, savoring motion until he pressed against the thick knot nestled at his base. “Mm, gods, you take me so well,” he purred, voice dark and reverent.

He leaned forward, bracing himself over her as he began to move—deep, dragging thrusts that let her feel every ridge, every bit of him. The bed creaked with each powerful motion, and his grip on her thighs tightened possessively. Deakor watched her writhe beneath him, her pleasure fueling the fire already burning in his veins. “You’re not getting off this bed,” he murmured with a feral grin, “not until I’ve tied you good and full.”

[tavernsoftemptation]

Deep 14 Drakor

reference; for @beginngsining

Deakor loomed over her, his powerful form silhouetted in the low candlelight of the tavern room. Crimson scales shimmered faintly with each subtle movement, his claws digging lightly into the curve of her thighs as he held her at the bed’s edge, perfectly positioned for him. Her legs were wrapped around his sculpted hips, her body trembling beneath his as heat pulsed between them. He grinned, teeth sharp, eyes molten with desire. “Say it,” he rumbled, the pointed tip of his cock tapping teasingly against her slick folds. “Do you want this dragonborn cock?”

He pushed forward slowly, the thick, hot tip spreading her open as he eased inside, growling low at the way she clung to him. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, his hips rolling with unhurried, savoring motion until he pressed against the thick knot nestled at his base. “Mm, gods, you take me so well,” he purred, voice dark and reverent.

He leaned forward, bracing himself over her as he began to move—deep, dragging thrusts that let her feel every ridge, every bit of him. The bed creaked with each powerful motion, and his grip on her thighs tightened possessively. Deakor watched her writhe beneath him, her pleasure fueling the fire already burning in his veins. “You’re not getting off this bed,” he murmured with a feral grin, “not until I’ve tied you good and full.”