in all of our thirsting over gilf necromancer how has no one mentioned the DRIP emmrich has ?? his outfit is fabulous and he's got like 50 pieces of jewelry on ! go off king !
Bolaire was made to perform but it's someone else's performance that makes him gain full consciousness, take control and start living his own life. I love Critical Role, I love Bolaire and I love theatre.
ever since u wrote the daddy mercer thing i read it like every day. do u think u could do a part two perchance ? maybe one where daddy is punishing you >: )
pt 1 here. i'm glad you liked it so much!
nsft - explicit sexual content. minors should not read or engage with this post in any way.
Mercer's hand is slapped over your mouth before you can finish your sentence. Every thief is eyeing you both but you can't look anywhere but at him. Your tongue flicks playfully at his fingers and you watch Mercer biting back a string of insults.
C'mon, daddy. It had been on the tip of your tongue because you know exactly what that would do to him. Mercer had ignored you for days - ever since you returned from a failed job in Markarth. You'd played nice for the first couple days, whined for his attention the next, and now you're out of options.
It's his fault for ignoring you.
"Out." He demands, practically dragging you from the Flagon. You allow yourself to be carried by the scruff of your armor, awfully excited even as Mercer tosses you to his bed. You don't really care about the amused muttering from fellow thieves because Mercer finally looked at you.
He's clinging to his anger as if it'll keep him sane. It's increasingly difficult when you stare up at him with such blatant desire. Are you already unfastening your armor? Mercer wants to chastise you but you're distracting.
"Such a fucking brat." He mutters, half of a plan forming in his brain. He knew ignoring you would make you break but he hadn't expected this. The second you'd opened your mouth he knew what you were going to say. He'd never live it down if the rest of his Guild knew what you called him in bed.
"Sorry, daddy." You whine, unbuckling his pants. Mercer lets you, cock stiffening but he has no plans to fuck you. This time he can maintain some restraint. He refuses to reward you.
"You're not sorry." He snorts, head dropping back because your lips are on his cock. Soft kisses land on his hips as eager hands tug down his trousers. He'll entertain you for the moment but he's still mad about how poorly your job went.
"I am."
"You will be."
Mercer is a mean, awful man. His hips lift with each stroke of his hand over his cock and precum leaks from the tip. He refuses to fuck you though - instructing you to sit and watch. Arousal pounds between your thighs and you inch a hand toward your undergarments.
"I said no." Mercer snaps and something in you breaks. Arousal and need and an overwhelming sadness mingle together. Tears spill down your cheeks but Mercer hardly slows, fucking his fist while you beg for his attention.
"Mercer please," you crawl toward him, planting yourself on top of him. Mercer allows you to settle on him, a hand on your hip. He glares up at you with unhidden contempt and it makes your cunt throb. It shouldn't be so hot when he acts like he hates you.
"You did a terrible job." He murmurs, stroking down your back.
"The guard rotation was different than the plan." You hiss, leaning back just enough for his cock to slide along your cunt. Your eyes roll back at the sensation of him pulsing there, almost where you want him.
"Your intel was bad -"
"You shouldn't rely on intel." Mercer snaps, shoving you to the bed. He's on top in an instant, pinning you to the mattress. His hands are on your wrists and his hips roll into yours, cock twitching as he bullies it into your cunt.
"You could have died." Mercer snarls, fucking you with little regard for your comfort. There's no kisses, no soft words, you aren't allowed to hold him. He's using you like a toy to get himself off.
"'m sorry." You mumble, pleasure stealing all sense of shame. "I'm sorry, Mercer."
"Wrong." He stills, the tip of his cock barely inside you. Your hips wiggle and you're whining but Mercer won't relent. "Try again."
"I'm sorry daddy."
Thank the gods he's finally fucking you like you've been craving. Mercer's mouth is on yours swallowing every sound you make. Your hips buck against his but he still has you pinned, sweaty chest pressed to yours. It's been weeks since you've been together like this, unrestrained and needy.
"Love you." You mutter into his mouth, biting at Mercer's lip. "Love you so much."
“And if you’ll give me 40% of the MOST POPULAR VOTE, I’ll give you my SPECIAL REWARD... A year’s supply of NON-GLOOBY SLIME!!! Never or BARELY used!!!” Tenna concluded his speech with a huge smile, jetting his hands up in double peace signs.
The crowd roared in confused enthusiasm as Tenna gave a gracious flurry of low-FPS bows, pausing only for the occasional stink-nose at his audience plants who weren’t throwing enough 3D roses.
Eventually, the room fell silent. It was Senshi’s turn to speak.
He puffed out his chest, took a long, sweeping look over the audience… and shook his head.
“I can see not all of you are eating properly.”
The crowd murmured with embarrassment.
“I don’t know who needs to hear this, but it’s time to take the turkey out of your icebox. I have seen the ingenious technology with which your people store food... and I have also seen the waste which results from such convenience.
“The food you take had a life. Beasts grew fat on the grass of the field, plants grew from the sun’s rays, and mushrooms grew from minerals in the cracks of caves. And yet, it sits in your iceboxes, collecting moisture until it perishes.
“Eat what is given to you. Because its life will make you stronger, too.”
Without another word, Senshi left his podium and stepped away from the stage. The crowd murmured in confusion. “Is he really like that?” somebody said. “I only remember reblogging the photosets of him tripping and showing ass.”
--
Back in the Green Room, Tenna wrung his antennas nervously.
“Y-y-you think they liked me!? They HAD to!! I mean, I don’t know what Asgore was thinking, getting that weird haircut and running that food waste campaign, but… YOU thought I did good, didn’t you, Kris?”
Laios nodded aggressively, a streak of blue face paint peeling from his forehead.
“You did AMAZING, Tenna! By the way, now that we’ve seen all your insider campaign secrets, do you have any more videos of Susie? Especially her tail... If I could get a look at that, I could finally tell if she’s a dinosaur or --”
THWACK. Fake antlers butted Laios’s head.
“LAIOS?? Weren’t we dressed up to help SENSHI???” Marcille hissed, gesturing awkwardly with her hooves.
Suddenly, Tenna turned to the two adventurers.
“Hey, WAIT a second. SOMETHING’s not right here...”
Laios and Marcille held their breath.
“Where the heck are my POINTS!?”
Just then, the door opened. Chilchuck took one step into the room, whistling and holding a large bag.
Everyone turned to him.
Chilchuck paused, took a step backwards, and closed the door.
“CHILCHUCK!!!” yelled Tenna.
“How come Chilchuck got to stay Chilchuck!?” yelled Marcille at the same time.
--
Meanwhile, in outer space somewhere, some guy was making out with a rock.
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