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keicordelle · 2 years ago

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Steel and Crystal

Fandom: FFXIV Rating: E Pairing: Estimeric Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Porn with Feelings, Explicit Consent, Established Relationship, Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Estinien Wyrmblood is Bad at Feelings, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, POV First Person (more tags on individual fics) An Estimeric series of mostly smut and some fluff, all related but able to be read independently. Set post-Dragonsong War, Estinien returns to Ishgard after trying to come to terms with his possession by Nidhogg, and Aymeric is more than happy to welcome back his lover. In between their fervent need to touch and be touched, they start to realize that perhaps their casual arrangement has become something more.

Read the series on Ao3!

Masterlist under the cut (WIP)

Moonlit Meeting E | 4981 | POV Aymeric Estinien returns to Ishgard post Dragonsong War

A Promise as Yet Unspoken T | 1295 | POV Estinien Aymeric trims Estinien’s hair

Office Delights E | 2708 | POV Aymeric Office blowjob beneath Aymeric’s desk

Our Beautiful Reflection E | 3783 | POV Estinien Rimming and reverent sex before a mirror

Hot Water and Warm Lips E | 4754 | POV Aymeric Comfort sex in/after a bath

A Test of Endurance E | 6474 | POV Estinien Teasing on the training grounds leads to blowjobs in a nearby bathhouse

Thoughts, Internal and Voiced E | 5054 | POV Aymeric Angst soothed by voiced desires and dirty talk.

Culinary Experimentation [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 ] E | 6238 | POV Mixed Estinien takes up cooking as a hobby, which eventually leads to food sex

Rescue [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 ] E | 6650 | POV Estinien Estinien rescues Aymeric from the Vault, and helps soothe him through the aftermath.

A Singular Kind of Hunger E | 2073 | POV Aymeric Estinien helps Aymeric through a wet dream.

An Arrangement of Convenience [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 ] E | 9514 | POV Aymeric Flashback to when Estinien and Aymeric made their FWB arrangement, and their first time together.

In the Quiet of the Barracks E | 1969 | POV Estinien Flashback to their Temple Knights days, quiet wall sex in the barracks.

A Dangerous Game E | 5663 | POV Estinien Jealous claiming at a masquerade

Of Nightmares and Longings E | 3270 | POV Aymeric Estinien soothes Aymeric’s nightmares with stories of his family and comfort sex.

Forced Vacation [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 ] E | 11909 | POV Aymeric Aymeric signs a contract with Estinien for a free use weekend.

The Courage of a Fool E | 7139 | POV Estinien Estinien confesses.

Wine and Revelations E | 8010 | POV Estinien Awkward drunken sex.

Return to Ferndale T | 4459 | POV Aymeric Estinien and Aymeric return to Ferndale for the 25th anniversary of its destruction.

Blue Silk E | 7886 | POV Estinien Light bondage brings back traumatic memories for Aymeric.

Wounded [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 ] E | 9727 | POV Estinien Aymeric cares for an injured Estinien.

Sound and Sensation E | 3490 | POV Aymeric Blindfolded sex

A Discussion of Firsts E | 6115 | POV Aymeric Aymeric and Estinien discuss their first times.

A Map of Memories E | 3953 | POV Aymeric Charting the scars on Estinien’s body

An Impossible Future T | 4781 | POV Estinien Estinien and Aymeric babysit and imagine what it would be like to have a child of their own.

Somnolescent E | 2138 | POV Aymeric Undernegotiated somnophilia.

Many Kinds of Magic E | 6209 | POV Aymeric A snowball fight turns into body worship and gentle sex.

Ink Across Parchment T | 1153 | POV Estinien Aymeric sketches Estinien in the dead of night.

A Contest of Wills [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 ] E | 10140 | POV Estinien Estinien loses a bet to see who can go the longest without coming and must submit to Aymeric’s whims for a day.

Over Any Distance E | 3642 | POV Estinien Linkpearl sex

Epistolary Comforts E | 2445 | POV Mixed Explicit letters

Just For Tonight E | 5200 | POV Aymeric Estinien shows up the night before the battle at Ghimlet Dark for one stolen night together.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #estimeric #aymeric de borel #estinien wyrmblood #my writing #steel and crystal #~K

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faelune-home · 4 years ago

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Improvise

(A/N: Cos somehow a girl managed to fire out 3700+ words over two weeks. Hope y’all like it.

Focuses on my main miqo WoL Fufu. A little night of piano playing shared w/ Alphinaud. Set during Early Heavensward

Also available on Ao3 here

@ffxiv-writers)

The door to Fortemps Manor creaked to a close, yet a sharp gust of wind managed to sneak through anyway, catching Alphinaud and making him shiver. Even after having spent some few weeks in Ishgard, he still wasn’t quite used to the chill snap that gripped the city. Perhaps now was the time to finally think about investing in a winter jacket...or maybe a new attire altogether.

He made his way through the halls, intent on returning to the room gifted to him by Count Fortemps so that he could continue his work before turning in for the night. There was already so much to be done, with the paperwork he had offered to do for the count in return for his hospitality, as well as looking into the disappearances of the Scions, and then there was the news of a primal apparently floating around Abalathia’s Spine…

Just as he had reached his door however, he stopped, his attention caught by what sounded like music further down the hall. A light tinkling of piano keys he deduced. Curiosity took hold, as Alphinaud was certain he hadn’t heard a piano within the manor before that night. Yet in his moment of distraction, his papers almost slipped from his hands, reminding him of his evening work. Caught between leaving the curious sound for the night or trying to source it, it wasn’t until one of the maids of the house passed by carrying linens, humming away with a smile on her face that he finally relented and set off deeper into the manor.

Down the corridor, and round a corner, passing yet another humming maid, the music grew louder, until he finally came to a partly opened door. Barely wide enough to allow any light out, yet the music flowed out into the hallway. Yet while he had found the source, one finally question itched, just one more answer, who...

Peeking through the crack in the door, he saw Fufu, the Warrior of Light sitting at the piano, tapping away at the keys. Her tail swished happily behind her, and her pigtails swung side to side as she swayed along to the melody of her own making. He almost wanted to assume he could hear her humming along as well. An occasional fumble of fingers would send an off key note, yet her deft hands could follow up and keep on track, and it was like it hadn’t even happened. The atmosphere within the room seemed so jovial for only having one person inside. But then she did seem to have the talent to bring cheer with her wherever she went. Was it a Bardic skill or something naturally inherent to the miqo’te?

Alphinaud had often dismissed her musical moments in times past, considering it time that could’ve been better spent on other tasks, yet now there he stood, drawn in by her whimsical little tune. In fact, before he could argue with himself to simply leave and go back to his room, having solved the mystery that had briefly snatched him, he stepped forth and pushed the door open fully, the groan of the hinges catching the occupant’s attention and bringing her merry tune to a halt.

Fufu spun round on the piano stool, giving her companion a broad smile and saying, “Oh, welcome back! I didn’t realise you’d gotten in.” He returned her greeting with a light nod of his own and said, “It’s no worry, I can see you were quite busy.”

Her ears flicked and she hummed, “I might’ve been a bit too into that one, I’m not even certain what time it is now.” As she turned to try and catch the chronometer in the room, Alphinaud stepped forward and asked, “Actually, could you play it again? If it’s alright.” This earned him another broad grin and an enthusiastic nod.

“Of course! I’ll try my best.” She turned back to the piano, however rather than start playing again, she shuffled over on the seat and patted the empty space, looking expectantly at the elezen. Though somewhat surprised at the gesture - after all, there was a perfectly good couch within the room he would’ve gladly taken instead - he stepped forward and joined the miqo’te on the seat, placing his papers on the side table.

As the warrior’s fingers continued to dance along the keys, picking up the melody once more, he couldn’t help but watch, mesmerised at how they moved now that he had a closer view. Hands long calloused from her work with the bow now tapped away and created a bubbly little tune, so fitting for her character.

“How long have you known how to play?” he asked, the question coming to mind as he recalled seeing her more often with a harp for her minstreling, as well as the single time he had seen her strumming away at a small lute.

“Only a few weeks, really. Started a few days after we first got here,” she answered, never stopping her merry tune. Alphinaud blinked, surprised.

“Truly?” She nodded, then leaned closer to him like she was sharing a secret and added, “If you were to ask how long I’ve been playing well, the maids stopped giving me dirty looks last week I think.” Then she laughed, and the song seemed to jump up in rhythm with her. He wasn’t quite deterred however, as another question nagged at him.

“But...how? Did you learn, I mean.” At this, Fufu took one hand off the piano, the other continuing to play, picked up a book from the table next to her side of the piano and handed it to the younger boy, saying, “I taught myself. I found this book in the library while I was looking for something else. Apparently Lord Edmont tried to have Artoirel learn when he was a boy, but it didn’t really work.”

Alphinaud flipped through the pages, noting how easily presented most of the information was - ‘most’, as he could only assume the book was meant as a companion piece for an actual instructor. Yet all the same, it seemed understandable, and if one had the drive enough to learn…

“I’ll confess, I’m impressed,” he admitted. This earned him one of her wide grins, her sharpened teeth catching the light. Curiosity mostly sated now, he turned his attention to the music sheet on the stand, only to realise something else.

“Have you been improvising this whole time?” Indeed, while the tune was similar to the one that had initially drawn him to the room, there was a noted difference in how it was played; a higher key perhaps, and what seemed initially like the repeated chorus was instead rather different. Fufu nodded vigorously, saying, “Yup! The sheets were good to learn, but this is more fun.” Now completely at a loss for words at his companion’s skill, the boy could only sit, listening with a much keener ear as the miqo’te tapped out her free flowing music.

Even when she eventually drew one song to a close - with an over exaggerated flourish that Alphinaud couldn’t help but smile at - she started another afterward, this time a slower piece, more fitting over a wind down for the night. The lower notes of the tune seemed to thrum in the air, and he could feel the low buzz in his chest. Logically he could say it was just the close proximity to the piano, but at this point he wouldn’t quite be surprised if it were Fufu’s doing…

“Did you ever learn an instrument?” He was snapped from his unexpected reverie, seeing the woman staring at him intently after her question, the music itself even slower now as her attention had shifted.

“I mean,” she continued, turning back and picking up her pace again, “to my knowledge, it just seems like something fancy families try to do with their kids, like Lord Edmont and Artoirel.” At the reference, her ear flicked toward the book resting on Alphinaud’s lap, however his attention had been caught elsewhere.

“Fancy?” he echoed, looking mildly offended at the remark. The music finally came to a complete stop as she turned to face him, an amused smirk on her face. She repeated, “Yes, fancy. You got to receive a high class education at a renowned school—“

“The Studium is open to all, even some few outside of Sharlayan,” he countered.

“Well, you’d walk around using your family name in so many places like it’d just open all the doors, and actually I think it did a lot of the time.”

He flinched, recalling how that arrogance had saw them flee to Ishgard in the first place for safety, yet he argued back anyway, “That was far more to do with the impact my grandfather had in Eorzea as opposed to—“

“Your family has manservants,” she interrupted, with a degree of finality in her voice that made him stop, and despite a light stammer as he tried to respond, he ultimately hung his head and said, “Fine. I suppose that isn’t a common thing for most families.”

“Nope, only fancy ones,” she replied, still wearing that amused smile. Then she leaned in close, as though waiting. Recalling her initial question, a small smile crossed his lips as a memory came to him.

“I’ve never learned, nor has my sister, but mother did suggest it once. She always said it would allow us to appreciate the arts or something similar.” He then chuckled, “Alisaie almost threw a fit at the idea, saying that she didn’t want to end up being dolled up and forced to perform for others entertainment, much to mother’s disappointment. I told her I wasn’t much interested either, and she didn’t bring it up again.”

The miqo’te hummed. “I see.” Then leaned back into the boy and asked, “Do you want to learn how to play?”

He blinked, curious. “Are you offering to teach?” Fufu shrugged, looking sheepish as she said, “I don’t know if I’d be that great of a teacher, but I could try. And if I’m not, then I could maybe see if Jehantel wouldn’t mind helping.”

Although tempted, Alphinaud shook his head, saying, “I appreciate the offer, however I think I’ll decline. At least for now. We both have far too much happening right now to dedicate any real attention to any lessons.” He had his own duties after all, and as well as helping the Fortemps in her own way, he knew that Fufu had also picked up some extra errands amongst the local Ishgardians. In hindsight, her having self-taught herself the piano on top of her many duties was all the more astounding.

“That’s fair,” she nodded, fortunately not looking too upset at the rejection, “But the offer’s always available for the future, if you change your mind!” He nodded, smiling back at her, “Of course.” Satisfied, the woman adjusted herself on the seat and lifted her hands to the keys once more.

She beamed, “One more song before bed then?” She didn’t wait for an answer, not that the boy would refuse, and started playing. It started a bit slowly, a muddle of low notes as though she were still deciding on what to play, before the tune seemed to collect itself. It was another slow song, and Alphinaud could definitely feel himself starting to relax with it.

“I have to admit, you do have a way with music,” he sighed, trying to resist the urge to lean against the miqo’te and disrupt her playing, even if the soothing melody seemed to be making him feel rather sleepy. “That you can teach yourself how to play something like this while also keeping up with so much else, and then the ability to improvise besides.”

Fufu shrugged, “I wouldn’t say it's that special. The improvising I mean. I just kinda play away until it sounds right then keep playing that.”

“Tis a talent nonetheless. A valued one for any field. Even in battle, should the need arise, being able to adapt freely is a useful skill.” Fufu nodded at his words, though she still looked unsure.

“Maybe… I’ll be honest, improvising is fun with music, but in a combat situation, I still prefer working from a plan. If I have to start thinking on my feet when the plan isn’t working then fine, but having an idea of what to do feels a lot more secure. I’ve gotten a lot more done with others to tell me what to do than I have just doing stuff on my own.” At this point, the music had stopped. The miqo’te simply stared ahead, over the piano and straight out the window at the drifting snows outside.

Concern for his friend at her very sudden mood change shook the drowsiness from Alphinaud’s mind. “Come now, you act as if you’re no better than a common soldier following orders.”

“I’m not saying that’s what I want,” she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m just saying there’s...comfort, I think, in having someone else step up and know what to do. It’s reassuring when I’m lost.” Then a small smile came upon her face, as her eyes shone in remembrance.

“Actually, that reminds me… I didn’t really want to share this, just because I thought it’d seem overly sentimental and silly--”

“Really? I suppose that would be out of character,” the boy interrupted, with what he hoped sounded like a tone of levity. To his relief, Fufu smirked, clearly amused as she gave him a light nudge with her arm, then said, “Please, I’m trying to be serious. And I do know when to stop before something is too much.”

She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, hands holding onto the edge of the stool, and after a long pause, she started, “It was after the attack on the Waking Sands. I was just supposed to go back and see Minfilia and find out what was happening next. Maybe it would’ve been dealing with Garuda anyway, maybe it’d be something else, another ascian trail hunt, I don’t know. And I never really will because of everything that happened.” The mood had turned sombre again.

“I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I could do was go to the church near Drybone, ‘cos that’s what Minfilia said...it was the last thing Noraxia told me. And even then, while I was there, I just did what others asked or suggested, trying to help where I could to feel useful, but I didn’t really know what to do. Y’shtola and Yda were missing and I didn’t know if I could get in touch with them, and the Garleans were looking for Echo users so I didn’t want to go back to Gridania in case they attacked there. And when it looked like they were near the church anyway targeting Cid, I thought I’d have to run off just in case to keep people safe, but then…”

She stopped, straightening up in the seat, and after another pause that almost had Alphinaud consider jumping in himself, she said, “Well I guess the most honest thing I can say is that you showing up was a big help to me.”

He blinked, rather taken aback at her statement. “Me?”

She nodded. “Yup. Like I said, I already had no clue what to do at that point, so when you showed up saying we were going to find Cid’s airship and deal with Garuda - well, of course we got caught up in all the Ishgardian bureaucracy which made it take longer, but the point is, it was more of a plan than I had. And after Operation Archon, you were the one that suggested the move to Revenant’s Toll for the Scions so we could work on more neutral ground-”

“I fear you’re giving me far too much praise here. So often I’ve worked in tandem with others, to claim sole credit would be rather arrogant.” And Twelve knows he was aware of his follies as it was.

However Fufu shook her head. “I know you didn’t do everything alone, of course not. But I’m talking about the things you did do. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that. Hells, we wouldn’t be here in Ishgard if you hadn’t put in the work to champion on their behalf during the dravanian attacks.”

At this, Alphinaud shot to his feet and snapped, “We’re here in Ishgard precisely because of me! Twas mine own fault that we have lost our comrades and been forced from the Stones-”

“No,” she countered forcefully, getting to her feet to stand beside him, even if she was yet taller than him, “That was not your own fault, that was the Braves-”

“And they were my responsibility, I share the blame for not realising that they were never truly under my command. I led them into the city states and proclaimed them protectors of the people. I was the fool and I don’t deserve the admiration you seem to have for me.” He stepped out from the piano stool and made for the door to the room, ready to make for somewhere else, anywhere else, when Fufu grabbed his arm and stopped him with a pleading, “Wait, please.”

When he didn’t move any further or try to shake her grip, she gently pulled him toward the couch in the room, sitting them both down. He initially looked away, the guilt dredged up from his outburst preying upon his mind and making him think back and replay that night’s events again, until he felt the woman take his hand. Looking back, he was surprised to see her eyes shining with their own guilt, her ears flat against her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I had some blind hero worship for you. I only meant that I was grateful. Like I said, when I was left at that church with nothing to do except take on other people’s favours, I was just lost. You just put me back on the path to actually doing something.” She then squeezed his hand tighter as she looked down, somehow even more downtrodden as she continued, “Thinking about it, maybe I was blind actually. I could’ve said something about the Braves since I helped to set it up, and I was there for nearly every step of the way, but I never saw anything. I just knew that every other idea had worked out fine, so perhaps this would as well.”

Finally giving him a rueful smile, she said, “Maybe I deserve the blame for the Braves as well.”

“No,” Alphinaud said firmly, taking his hand from her and readying to argue, until Fufu grabbed his shoulders and said with her own adamant certainty, “Then stop. What’s done is done, and we can only move on. Isn’t that what we’re trying to do? Remembering our mistakes is fine, if we only use that to improve. And you’ve been good about that, just every now and then you get really down about it like you’re still the only one at fault for it.” Alphinaud nodded, feeling a touch sheepish at her impassioned words.

“You’re right. My apologies, I shouldn’t have gotten quite so pathetic there,” he sighed, giving her a grateful smile in return. Fufu smiled back, clearly relieved.

“Good. We don’t have any time for that sort of pity party after all,” she chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair and giggling harder at his indignant, “Hey”.

“And for what it’s worth, the Braves were a good idea in theory. You did have a point when you said that we Scions would need our own personal force to help all of the city states. We just didn’t account for...well, everything else.”

He nodded. “I suppose so, but I doubt we could make a second attempt at such a thing. People would be less trusting of the idea, not to mention so long as monetarists like Teledji or Lolorito exist, they would still try to gain advantage of the group.”

“Or make it harder for them to do their jobs,” Fufu added, recalling the pompous statue of Lolorito that stood in Vesper Bay; his answer to the Scions refusing his advances.

“Well, we’ll just have to work twice as hard to make up for,” she stated, sitting up straight and punching her fist into the air. The miqo’te then turned to face the boy again, giving him a broad grin as she said, “And I want you there with me.”

“You’re quite certain?”

She nodded. “You’re still better at making plans and strategizing than I am. Just because you worked more with others before, or a few of those ideas didn’t work out like you hoped doesn’t change that. So I want you to keep doing what you do best. And in return, I’ll try and do my part to make sure they’ll work out, or even stepping up to tell you if it won’t work. I won’t leave you to take the worst of it.” She held her hand out, and after only a moment’s thought, Alphinaud nodded and took it, the two shaking firmly.

“I would like that a lot,” he said. Just then, a loud chime broke out in the room, making them both jump. The chronometer on the wall read 10 o’clock.

“Gods, has it gotten so late?” He sighed, mumbling, “I won’t be able to do much of that paperwork now.” He stood and collected the papers from beside the piano, bowing politely to his companion and saying, “Thank you for tonight. The music and the discussion. I feel like we stand on more even ground now.”

“We didn’t before?” Fufu asked, albeit with a smile.

“Maybe we did...but this was nice to confirm all the same. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should head to bed.” He turned for the door, however the miqo’te’s call of “Wait!” stopped him. Turning back, he watched her stumbled quickly back to the piano and, to his amusement, pat the stool seat beside her.

“I didn’t get to finish playing properly before. So,” she turned, eyes glowing, “one more song before bed?”

He joined her once more. “Feel free, my friend.”

#ffxiv writing #ffxiv fanfic #alphinaud leveilleur #my wol #keeper of the moon miqo'te #fufu faelune #writing #long post #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #my writing

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ffxivimagines · 5 years ago

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FFXIVWrite 2019 | Prompt #25: Angel

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

FFXIV Write 2019 | Prompt #25: Trust | Rating: E

Warnings for: sexual content, NPCxWoL, religious imagery being applied to sex, my usual brand of dom/sub, and so on. Further warnings under cut because they’re all kink-related!

Do not press that Read More link if you are under age of majority!

Warnings (contd.): praise kink, dom/sub, usage of the phrases “good boy” and “ser” in a sexual setting, WoLxAymeric, gender-neutral WoL, Aym being made to admit his kinks, orgasm delay/denial

All those good to you? Read on! If not, please close the tab/press the back button!

The Warrior of Light is an untouchable entity. They are sacred, sanctified by divine providence and unprecedented might, and yet Aymeric watches them peel their clothing off piece as if he is worthy of such a sight. They smile at him while working at the clasps on their earrings, setting each piece of jewelry on his vanity without asking permission, and ask, “Do you trust me, Aym?”

“Always,” he answers in a rush.

Their smile grows a little lopsided (familiar and so much more attainable than the way they look down at him with the spirit of a saint taking residence in their bones) and they finish slipping the remnants of their smallclothes off. He very pointedly does not note how well their underwear hugs the muscle of their hips and ass when they turn from him to step out of them. Had Aymeric not been blessed by Halone and baptised into her service, he knows he would not have been able to resist such temptation as the curve of their bare neck. As it is, he salivates not unlike a beast at the pang of hunger that overtakes his mind for a long moment.

The Warrior is kind to him and does not leave him waiting, but Aymeric still feels underprepared for their lips on his. They touch him in a way that suggests he obey, guiding him to lay down and allow himself to relax, and it’s such a joyous way to give in to their will that Aymeric is all but lost before they begin. They pull back from him, breathing the same air with how closely their lips mirror his, and ask, “Tell me what you want, Aymeric. You’ll be good for me.”

Aymeric, for all his many virtues, is still a creature of need. When given such an order, he is all but helpless to resist even when the thought of voicing his wants causes his face to flush all the way to the tips of his ears. “Pray, grant me a moment to…” He falters, voice caught in his throat when his mind cannot avoid the many images of his dearest Warrior in states of undress and debauchery. “...think. A moment to think, if you please.”

“Take all the time you need, love,” they soothe, smoothing a hand down his chest to begin working at the buttons of his underclothes. “We have all night.”

Aymeric bites back a groan at the thought of them lounging around for hours on end, naked as the day they were born, and admits, “I have not given these desires much thought past avoiding them.”

The Warrior laughs goodnaturedly. “So they appear at inopportune times?” “Usually, yes.”

“Like when you’re at work,” they guess, “and leading negotiations, then. What are you thinking of? A warm mouth on you under your desk?” Aymeric jolts and they watch with a satisfied simper when his hands twitch toward the front of their pants. “No touching. We agreed I would do whatever you like after you tell me what you want most. Treat this like confession, Ser Aymeric, and tell me what trials trouble your soul.”

“By Halone,” he curses, “I doubt there will ever come a time confession will seem so innocently cathartic again.”

“Maybe I should filch one of those uniforms and see if the Fury smites me─”

Aymeric allows himself to imagine the sight of them in the familiar colors and cut of the church’s uniform but the image is quickly perverted to something far less innocent than the Warrior kneeling to pray. He wants them in his colors more than that of Halone. He wants to wrap them in the blue of House Borel and see to it that his claim to their hand is publicly known.

“Have something to say?”

He manages a quiet, nearly choked off, “My clothing. If you would be… amenable to wear it.”

They shuffle off of the bed to grab his customary coat, pulling it on without any other layers made to line the inside, and climb back on top of him. “This is rather comfortable. I may be so inclined to steal it again in the future.”

“I meant it casually, but now I feel nothing you touch will be left safe to Sunday confessionals,” Aymeric laments.

They shrug and reply, “I know you won’t be much for puritanical sermons after I finish giving you everything you need. Tell me more?”

“I would like to see you atop me more often, like now.”

“And?”

Aymeric swallows, knotting a hand in the sheets as if the feel of fabric could ground him more than the heat of his love sitting squarely on his hips. “You could order me to do what you like.”

They hum happily and lean down to pepper his face in kisses. “You know how to tell me to stop, right?”

“Wyrm, yes.”

“Good boy,” they praise. It’s a test, a new name they are not sure he will take to in the least and they enjoy the shudder Aymeric give them in response. “Did you like that?”

He hisses when they shift and press a little too harshly on the bulge in the front of his pants, sending a bolt of pleasure shooting up his spine. “I… yes.” They reward his honesty with a smattering of marks reaching from his jaw nearly down to his collarbone, each one light and easily healed by a potion or flash of white magic, until Aymeric stutters through an exhale and asks, “More, please?”

They draw further confession from him with each action─dirtying his coat when he admits to his wish to see how they take their pleasure, denying him the release he all but writhes for when he says he doesn’t want their session to end so soon, not allowing him to hide his face when his mortification in asking for their fingers becomes too much (a requested step beyond their usual go-to way of comforting him)─until Aymeric is near incoherent.

“Are you ready, my love? We need to bring you down.”

He nods and they give him one last push, feeling wetness spill over their hand as he cums. Aymeric is a vision beneath them, debauched as he is, and they wonder how Halone would create a man so divine and do aught else but keep him with her in the heavens. He shivers with aftershocks and they soothe him through it, cleaning up and making sure he is situated beneath the sheets the moment they finish sponging him down. It would not do to catch a cold from bad aftercare.

They toss his coat into the hamper and shimmy into a woolen robe before climbing into bed next to him. “Was that alright?”

He pulls them close and speaks with a slight slur born of tiredness when thanking them in half sentences. The Warrior pets his hair gently until he slips off to sleep before slapping their hands over their face and feeling their cheeks warm to the point of nearly steaming.

To do such a thing! To the Lord Commander, no less! Established relationship or no, they are so thoroughly embarrassed by their own words it’s a wonder they do not immolate. Aymeric enjoyed it, they rationalize, so I was not too terrible, perhaps.

They drift off to the sounds of his breathing and the thought that maybe (just maybe) they could have him do the same for them next time.

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chrysaint · 4 years ago

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FFXIV Shadowbringer Flavor Text from background NPC’s

Main Story Quest: After completing The Feast of Lies and before The Ladder

The Canopy Tatcha-Roi: I can't believe it... Lord Vauthry was a sin eater this whole time...

Lloydden: What that lad said... It made me think, you know? I did get up here through my cooking, but...how much of that was skill, and how much of it luck at having shown up at the right time to be chosen?

Lynden: Of course you people are from the Crystarium. Couldn't just keep your mouths shut and leave us in peace, could you? What you don't understand is that we're all refugees, here. And making myself worse off isn't going to save this doomed world.

Billdia: Oh, goodness me! It's as if I'm sober for the first time in years! Well, “sober” isn't quite the right word─but my mind certainly feels clearer!

Aarner: To tell you the truth, I don't know where to go from here. How to be better than I have been. And that scares me─but I won't run. Not this time.

Dawnden: I heard the young man's speech from out here. To think that the free citizens would cooperate with the sin eaters, of all things... What was it that I've been protecting all of this time?

The Beehive (The dancers came back...)

Minard: Everyone appears to have returned to normal, so I, too, can get back to my standard duties─protecting the other honeybees from obnoxiously drunk patrons, mainly.

Anfrigg: Between you and me─there's nothing in this shaker at the moment. I'm just doing this because the motion calms me. No Vauthry, no meol...it's all a bit much to take in!

Rulimet: Of course we're still operating, darling. Our customers need a distraction now more than ever!

Tista-Bie: Though the world may be falling down around us, there's no reason to deprive ourselves of life's pleasures. Can I tempt you with a little game, my dear?

Sasha-Rae: Lord Vauthry may be gone, but I still have all that I need right here...<giggle>

Atharn: Hmmm, seemed to have blacked out for a while there... But not to worry─a little attention from a charming lass and I'm feeling right as rain again!

The Understory Trialla: You and your friends have my thanks. I don't know what came over me, but I certainly didn't care for it. Not one bit.

Liuina: Everyone's stopped babbling about Vauthry, but now they won't cease raving about the Oracle of Light and her friends. Ugh.

Shai-Satt: I've always done as I was told─fetching supplies for the free citizens, no matter how deep underground or narrow the storage rooms they sent me to were... But I don't have to do that anymore, do I?

Colden: Well, that was a bit of a rude awakening as to our own lack of utility in the face of a real threat. The supplies made it through, though!

The Buttress Eurig: There is a young woman who has been running all about, healing whomsoever is in need and asking nothing in return. It's made me realize how many years it's been since I've witnessed...kindness.

Larasmud: I feel...odd. Did I doze off? I never doze off...

Immigration Officer: I imagine Eulmore's bureaucracy is in for some significant adjustments. Until matters are settled, however, I shall take refuge in the execution of my regular duties.

Doddana: Even without meol, my new wage more than covers the cost of food─and I needn't worry about being expelled from the city if I make a mistake. Why didn't we get rid of Vauthry ages ago?

Registration Officer: This is the end of Eulmore as we know it. What's to become of the city? What's to become of my employment!?

Chue-Zumm: I strove for years to become a citizen, but now that Vauthry's gone, I suppose the distinction doesn't matter so much, does it.

Fathana: I am quite well, thank you. But I worry for the other citizens... (Didn’t notice her earlier, either she was missing like some other NPC’s before or I missed her. Not sure what her previous dialogue is)

Chei-Ladd: The chaos hardly touched us here. Perhaps because of how little meol we eat, and how rarely people choose to spend their time in administrative offices unless they are obligated to...

Joycefort: Your little friend came through and healed those that were ailing. I'll remember that.

---

The Derelicts [New non-intractable NPC’s appeared, according to story, left Eulmore] Zao-Mosch: I have been apprised of the full details by the young woman in your party. Your intervention did free us all, so I suppose I shan't detain you for entering the city under false pretenses. This time.

Calmet: Interesting to see Vauthry deposed, but if you ask me, he was only a symptom. The citizens, and even those out here knocking at the gates... Man's avarice is the true disease, isn't it?

Gwenfort: With Vauthry gone, there's next to no chance of any of us living the high life up in Eulmore. Most folks have given up on finding ways to show off their skills... I haven't─not entirely. But it helps that I can find clams out here, along with the gold for smithing. A man has to eat, you know?

Thoarich: Now we know why the missing left no corpses, eh? The rats down here, we never questioned what we were eating...

Zia-Bostt: Fish! My kingdom for a reasonably priced fish! Without that, my stew is merely soggy vegetable water!

Thinda: Not much has been cast down from Eulmore since all the commotion with Vauthry. Maybe someone finally knocked some sense into the people up there.

Chora-Lue: I can't believe that I was picking through garbage to find things for Vauthry! There's only one person who gets to keep the trash I find, and that's me.

Zoi-Chorr: I haven't seen hide nor hair of my usual informants since the commotion. I hope they're alright...

Bosta-Loe: Quite a few of those who had gone up into the city have returned here. Apparently, as far as comforts go, plush furniture and fancy desserts can't beat the sense of community we have down here.

Lothie: The world's a mess. The Derelicts are in disarray, and Vauthry's a sin eater... But the two of us are safe and together, and that's something. (Her Girlfriend is a dark Viera with brunette hair/fur~)

Hathbern: You, there! Have you any food? The meol's stopped coming, and I can't dance on an empty stomach...

Fernric: I see you're not babbling about that “Vauthry” fellow. Not sure what's come over everyone else, but it's right creepy, if you ask me.

Qimet: I had the strangest dream... Everything was gilded, and Vauthry had these long, flowing locks... Not sure what that says about me, but I'm trying not to think about it.

Tui-Shirr: Not that I'm particularly missing the taste of meol, but not having it does mean less food to go around overall, and it's hard to build on an empty stomach...

Sristialla: I'm trying to teach the children to cook, though they rarely manage to stand still long enough to learn anything. Perhaps I should make them responsible for preparing their own dinners...

Mumbert: Yes, I do feel rather foolish about eating the meol now. You needn't remind me─he does that quite often enough.

Mannien: That's some appetite for violence they've got, I'll admit. But I'm sure you understand the need to work off stress somehow─and there's plenty of that to go around down here, Vauthry or no.

Bethwren: This place was damaged in all of the commotion, so here I am. Again. As if I didn't have enough inspections to do, what with so many other buildings in the Derelicts on the verge of collapse...

Mathisol: Another day, another repair to the ol' shack. Though I confess that “damage by possessed mob” is not something that I had stocked up on materials for.

Dadine: These are roosters! Some elven boy came by and told me. Can you believe that no one else bothered to say nothin'? Not in the whole time I was sitting here, waitin' for them to lay eggs!

Chelette: Hathenbet has already come up with several means by which we may aid the people in the wake of the upheaval, and I will follow his lead. Naturally. You would be wise to do the same.

Hathenbet: I knew there was somethin' fishy about that meol. But preyin' on the starvin' and desperate like that...that's just dirty.

Moshei-Lea: We're free, sure. But where do we go from here? Where is there to go?

---

Gatetown Iystal: Have I lost my wits, or is Mt. Gulg floating!?

Syselbarth: Folk tell me there was fighting and all sorts of strife. I must've hit my head or something, 'cause I don't remember a thing...

Tio-Reeq: 'Twould seem a disdain for meol allowed me to keep my wits during that whole debacle. Saved by my own discerning palate...

Thyth: ...Ugh, this place has a stink to it, eh? I've not been here long myself, but I can help you get the lay of the land if you want, newcomer. >What do you do here? [the same dialogue as always] >What kind of town is this? What? Gatetown? It's a place to feed on the scraps what fall on your face as you look up and hope and dream. Though as it happens, I hear them scraps weren't just some kind of fancy bread. They say we've been eatin' eaters. Ugh, when I think of how much meol I've wolfed down, it makes me sick to my stomach. Then there's what happened down here, when things was going to pieces up there. All the old guard started muttering nonsense at the same bloody time, like they was caught under some sort of spell. Not sure what to make of that...

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zanaakhabila · 7 years ago

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Prompt #17: Cutting Threads

FFXIV Write 2017 Prompt #17: Fate

Characters: Saya

Warning: Dark themes under the cut.

Ul'dah was hot. Too damned hot, she decided. It was also dusty, dirty, and not at all graceful. As she walked the streets, she noted the locals staring at her. Unwashed men and women seemed to always stare at her, the picture of perfection in the light yukata as she strolled the streets. Even as she waved off yet another beggar, a sigh would pass her lips, even as she headed for this Sunsilk place. Nothing could match the skills of the weavers of her native Kugane, but still... it was always nice to bring back examples of craft.

But the clothes were her secondary target. The person walking into the shop, now... that was her true target. In a sea of Eorzean face, she wouldn't stick out that much- and in fact, with a little effort, she wouldn't really even stand out that much in Kugane, or even in the rest of Hingashi. Except for one little prop to vanity that she simply couldn't live without. Saya smiled, even as she watched the bouncing blue-streaked ponytail cruise almost effortlessly through the sea of people that made up early-afternoon Ul'dah, and made to follow its owner. It was almost too easy- one often got complacent in their own home, and as far as the little ijin thought, as long as she was here in Eorzea, even in Ul'dah, supposedly thousands of malms away from Kugane and anything ninjitsu, she could do whatever.

But she wasn't the only one who could pack a surprise- oh, no. Being her came with some awfully amazing gifts- such as a trip around the world one year, when she was younger. And even as she watched Zana, she simply let her mind wander to the previous day, when she'd watched her do something that brought a toothy smile to her face.

It had been outside the walls of this town, in an area the locals called the Eighty Sins of Sasamo. And she'd been testing her luck against a few of the local creatures- no wonder they'd had to put the ijin through a crash course and crack open her aether, the creatures here were pitifully weak- and she'd happened upon something that caused her to rejoice that the kami had followed her over.

It was the ijin meinu herself- and she was with someone. Talking about... signs. Hand signs.

It was like the heavens had opened up and shined down upon Saya. This was a gift from them, a very, very welcome gift, and one she would greatly appreciate. Her eyes leaned forward, and she took down every note. Watching as the ijin showed her friend the first two hand signs. Showed her how to simply create the shuriken, and watched as she created her first Katon and Raiton.

The elders were going to have many words for this, but the penalty for what the baka ijin had done was unmistakable: teaching an outsider, one unapproved by the clan, anything- was simple.

She would be brought back to Kugane- vanished, if necessary. They'd done it to her once before- and then get her out into the countryside, back to the compound. Saya was already forging a letter to rest on the doorstep of her place of business, confessing a plot to harm others and being unable to live with herself, and heading to Kugane for some self-reflection.

Once she was in Hingashi... well, that was what Saya was looking forward to the most.

There were herbs in Hingashi, ones sourced from places like Thavnair, Radz-at-Han, even Ilsabard. Ones that in strong enough quantities, that could blank a person's mind. Make them an empty slate, to be rewritten as their caretaker dictated.

Perhaps she needed an ijin maid, to happily do the work for her? To rest her feet upon when she grew weary, and who would lovingly attend to each of her needs, no matter what they were? Or maybe she'd send her back to her place of work, with barely enough mental power and memories to maybe wash dishes, along with a note letting them know what had happened, and well, she'd tried so hard to stop it, but those mean old elders had pushed for it, and she's been standing beside her crying as they'd forced the herbal powder down her best friend's throat and wiped everything that was Zana Akhabila from existence.

Of course, it would be bad form to admit she'd be crying with happiness, wouldn't it?

Alas, such was fate. She could smile or frown upon anybody at any instant, and today, Saya felt like she was being smiled upon. She was the one with the proof, now... but perhaps, it would be best to keep watch until she could gain any other bit of evidence that she could use. Teaching an outsider was simply too much, but she wanted to watch Zana squirm in front of the elders...

...squirm... oh, that word brought so many visions to her mind that she almost thought of going back to her inn room to attend to things. That's what she would do. The ijin would become her attendant, and she'd even bring her by her place of business to show her off. Oh, that would be sweet... to put these dirt-grubbers in their place by showing them the best they could offer could be reduced to following the orders of a shinobi princess at any time.

Fate was cruel... but it was also very, very damned satisfying.

#ffxivwrite2017 #FFXIV Prompts #FFXIV

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