#ff14 smut

[lovehotelreservation]

I'll be bold and send this off anon! >:3 How about "300 years is a long time to make up for!!! How far will G'raha go?!!" Tags: marathon sex, piledriving (bonus optional tag: gay)

"You'll have to pardon me for my elation, my love. With how long it's been--away from you no less--gods, may we never be separated ever again!"

Upon his last gasped word, G'raha shuddered as his hands reinforced their grip on the back of your thighs, squeezing and keeping them spread wide apart while he proceeded on with hammering his cock deeply into your hole.

He stayed hunched above you, serving as the perfect anchor to keep you pinned to the floor upon your back. You happily maintained your position, your body's flexibility tested while it was made to bend beneath him.

With his hot sticky cum continuing to flood inside of you with every orgasm or trickle out and stream down along your ass before cascading down to the floor below, what was guaranteed was that this reunion wasn't going to be ending anytime soon.

[headcanons-n-shit]

Sometimes you can talk out your problems with the very embodiment of the insecurity you can never seem to squash.

But sometimes? Sometimes you just gotta fuck real nasty about it.

(Fair warning: 18+/nsft)

[myreia]

Anthesis

Characters: Thancred Waters, Aureia Malathar (WoL) Pairings: Thancred/Aureia Summary: To celebrate her most recent accomplishment, Thancred and Aureia slip into an arboretum after hours to admire the views. But Aureia has a different plan about what view exactly he should be admiring. Rating: Explicit Tags: Thancred POV, romance, fluff, semi-public sex, adventures with lingerie Notes: Set in a vague time post-MSQ, mild contextless spoilers for Shadowbringers and Endwalker (Aureia and Thancred are both in their 40s by this point). Partially based on this gpose from wolcred week. 6,022 words Read on AO3

Evening has long since fallen, but the gardens are not silent.

Water drips from the leaves of enormous plants far larger than their wild counterparts. Mist rises, the sheen from the humidity shimmering in the air. Insects hum in a soft symphony, their lights bobbing about in the depths of the blue-green darkness. There is life singing within these crystalline walls, understated but powerful.

The quiet here is a far cry from the party thrown here only a few nights ago. It was a good one, as far as Leveilleur-funded festivities go. Elaborate, stunning, well-catered, magical, with the best bards and musicians from across the three great continents. The new arboretum is deserving of the celebration. A collaboration between the Studium and every other major institute of learning, both of the Source and other shards. A place dedicated to the preservation and study of the flora of Etheirys, both magical and non-magical, across every iteration of their star. Past and present.

Aureia is very proud of it.

She intended to linger after the event wrapped up and show him the sights, enjoy the gardens for what they are and on their own terms without distraction. But between conversing with guests, greeting friends new and old, and getting pulled into one conversation or another, time simply slipped by and they left in due course, exhausted from the conversation but content. A part of him wishes they had stayed. He would have enjoyed the heightened romanticism wandering this place in their evening wear—she was stunning that night in her long black gown, the fabric woven with small crystals so as to mimic the glimmer of stars in a night sky. She’s worn it countless times in the past half-decade, and it never fails to make an impression.

A selfish part of him wishes she had more reasons to wear it. She is beautiful no matter what she wears, but she does a number on his heart whenever she dolls herself up in finery.

And so now they’ve returned alone, long after the doors have been shut and locked, to wander and explore on their own time. Though it feels a little childish to say, there is something enchanting about these galleries filled with greenery he cannot name. The sweeping glass halls, the domed roof looking up to a sea of stars at night.

It reminds him—with a pang—of the Hortorium.

“I wish Ryne could see this,” Aureia says quietly as they ascend a wrought iron staircase to the second level. It twists about in a tight spiral, the climb giving a pleasant view of the gardens below.

Her words do little to absolve the bittersweet heartache that never fully goes away. Despite the passage of years, the distance between the Source and the First remains palpable. Ryne is grown now, with a life of her own in the Crystarium. She writes monthly, but no number of letters can be exchanged for her presence. And so, he replies with the only thing he can, an echo of a sentiment they have both voiced many times. “Perhaps one day she will.”

Aureia slows to a stop above him and glances over her shoulder. “There are flowers from Lakeland here,” she says. “In the west wing.”

Thancred smiles. “I know.”

He rises to her step and sweeps her into an embrace, kissing her deeply in the starlight. She melts against him, a palm pressed above his chest, lingering in the kiss. When at last she draws back, her gaze finds his and she raises her hand, her tips of her fingers resting against his cheek. Ruby eyes warm beneath dark lashes. Threads of grey nestled in the midnight of her hair, interwoven with the streaks of red. Creases around her eyes and mouth. The mole beneath her right eye stark against her pale skin. Familiar sights, all, and yet she never fails to take his breath away.

She never will.  

He's becoming a romantic in his old age. Not that he’s old. Not yet, anyway, as she is fond of reminding him. There may be silver in his hair and he may not quite have the stamina of his youth, but there is still so much of his life left to live. Which is notable for him, given that there was a time when he thought he had no life left to live. It still escapes him some days, this notion of a peaceful life. It doesn’t feel quite real.  

Aureia regards him softly and draws her thumb across his jaw, brushing the faint line of white stubble. “This is new,” she murmurs, an affectionate smile tugging at her lips.

He chuckles. “Well, you know me,” he replies with a shrug. “Never quite been one for it—”

She gives him an arch look.

“—save for a time best left in the past, aye. But admittedly I have been yearning for a change these past few months. I suppose this will do the trick. Whether it makes me scruffy or dignified is yet to be determined, though I suspect Alphinaud will be the first to let me know.”

She curls her fingers around his collar and tugs lightly. “I rather like it,” she says smartly, smoothing the fabric down. The pressure her hands passing over his collarbone stirs something deep within him. “I think you should keep it.”

“That is the intention, aye.”

A pause.

“You’re fishing for something, aren’t you.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it, certainly—”

Aureia throws back her head, the stairwell reflecting her tinkling laugh. “If you want to know, yes, I think it makes you look quite dashing,” she says, patting his cheek. Then she kisses him once more, slips her hand into his, and leads him up onto the landing.

They wander the second-floor gallery hand-in-hand, taking joy in their silent privacy. Their footsteps thud quietly against the marble tile, the sound muffled by the enveloping plants. It is lighter here on the second floor, even though the conservatory’s humidity still presses against them. The rush of water trickles in the distance, flowing as swiftly as a river. Large leafy trees curl up to the glass dome, reaching for the stars. The fruits of her labour.  

How many of these have sprouted from seedlings gathered from the world over? How many have come from across the shards? The ancients’ distant past? It was her mind that birthed it. Her heart that cultivated it. Her care that nurtured it. She has come a long way from killing plants on her windowsill in the dim light of the Forgotten Knight.  

It is truly impressive, this work of hers.

“Have you reconsidered?” he asks after a moment. “Your thesis?”

Her pace slows, her hand tugging gently on his. “Which one? You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Your Archon’s thesis.”

“Again, you’ll have to be more specific. Which one?”

He exhales a long sigh. She’s being obstinate on purpose, as she always is whenever this topic comes up. “Any of them.”

“There’s not much to be reconsidered. I’ll finish them when I’m ready.” She pauses, her gaze drawn to the heartblooms poking through the verdant greenery. Though there is a dedicated plot to the Elpis flower on the first level, the blooms have a habit of showing up in unexpected places, shining with faint light. “I don’t need another title.”

“It’s not about the title.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s an acknowledgement. Of your qualifications and your contributions.” He glances at her. “Some would say you have contributed more than most.”

“I’m flattered, Thancred, truly, but I don’t think I need it. Nor do I want it.” Her grip on his hand tightens, her fingers twining with his, and she slows their pace. The heartblooms rustle, turning gently towards her as they pass like flowers turning to face the sun, their petals flushed with a soft reddish violet. Though they react to the emotions of all within their presence, the blooms seem particularly attuned to her. “I’m not a scholar, I simply have questions and enjoy finding the answers for myself. I like to have clarity. I like discovery. In some fields that may make me an expert, but expertise does not make an academic.”

“Spoken like a true academic.”

Her mouth opens and yet no words come out. The familiar little crinkle that happens when she can’t think of a good retort forms between her brows; her lips twitch as she holds back a smile, torn between laughter and irritation. She shoots him a glare and raps him lightly on the arm in mock outrage.

He laughs. “Am I wrong?”

With a sigh, she links her arm with his and pulls him further down the path. “You aren’t. But being an Archon isn’t simply about the recognition of skill. It is a Sharlayan position, with Sharlayan connections. And I am not Sharlayan.”

“All the more reason to accept, no? The Forum no longer holds its knowledge behind closed borders. A non-Sharlayan Archon would mean much to Eorzea and beyond. A symbol of the changing times, that all are welcome here.”

“I think I have been someone’s symbol more than enough times. Sharlayan doesn’t need me to be theirs. My work is already based here out of necessity, I’m close enough as it is. I wouldn’t want the Alliance thinking I favour one country over another.” Her jaw tightens. “I’m sorry. I know this is important to you, I just… I don’t think I can. At least not now.”

He squeezes her hand and presses a kiss to her forehead. Though his heart sinks with her refusal, he is grateful she stands her ground. This is a decision she must make for herself, he cannot make it for her.

Another turn and they pass through an archway of stone and glass, stepping out into the central hall. The heartblooms grow bright and plentiful here, their luminescence spreading a gentle glow across the dark paths. He can sense the undercurrent of dynamis weaving around them, tugging at them like the flow of a gentle tide. Subtle, but strong. Strange to think how he can make more sense of it now than aether. It is no replacement for the aether he can no longer control, but perhaps it is a guide to something else. Another unknown in a sea of unknowns.

There is so very little that is constant in his life, save for the one walking at his side. His wife. His partner. His friend.  

The heartblooms pulse around them, flushing a pale pink.

Aureia exhales a soft sigh and slips her hand from his. She approaches the centre of the gallery where it overlooks the floor below and peers down, trailing her fingers idly across the marble railing. The pool glistens, its waters reflecting the moon above where it shines through the glass roof. Dark, leafy flora encroach its perimeter, obfuscating the rest of the level. Fireflies float through the darkness, their pale lights winking in and out. She rests an arm against the railing, the fingers of her other hand toying idly with a lock of escaped hair. It’s wavier than it should be, curled by its time in her high bun.

She glances over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “What?” she asks.

She’s caught him staring at her.

He chuckles and shrugs, spreading his hands. “Nothing,” he says quietly.

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. Slowly, she steps into him and sweeps him into a silent kiss, her mouth pressed gently, but openly, to his. Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into her. He wraps his arms around her, a hand on her lower back, slipping down to brush her ass. She laughs, the quiet, throaty sound rumbling pleasantly against his lips, stirring desire. When she finally breaks and pulls away, she leaves him breathless and wanting, aching for more. She raises her eyes, looking at him through dark lashes, a coy smile brightening her face, then turns and walks away.

“Aureia,” he calls, his voice echoes through the arboretum, but she does not answer.

Smiling to himself, he follows. 

He finds here meandering down the open path, surveying the gardens with wide-eyed curiosity. Her movements are slow and calm, yet precise with intention—even here, in this moment of peace, the warrior does not leave her completely. She pauses now and then, standing on tiptoe here to examine the giant leaves of a tree he cannot name, crouching there to examine the blue petals of some Thavnairian flower. Each time he catches up with her, she moves onto the next display, acting as if him arriving and her leaving in are a coincidence.

But even she can’t hide that mischievous little grin or the way her eyes light up.

“Aureia,” he calls as the hem of her cloak disappears around the corner.

Tinkling laughter resounds in his ears and her footsteps patter away, her boots clacking against the marble. He follows, but when he rounds the corner, she has simply vanished. He slows his pace, drawing to a stop. Her cloak lies in the centre of the path.

He stoops and picks it up, his heart pounding. So, this is the game she wishes to play. “Fascinating turn of events, Aur,” he says. “Don’t you think we’re a bit old for such tomfoolery?”

“I don’t think we’re too old for anything. Besides, I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.”

“So, you simply happened to drop things very inconspicuously, in the centre of this very inconspicuous path?”

She laughs, her voice muffled by the surrounding plants. “It must have slipped out of my hands. Why don’t you bring it back to me?”

He chuckles and rises to his feet. “Why don’t you stay in one place so I might have a chance?”

“Call it the spirit of adventure.” She pauses for a moment, falling suspiciously silent. He takes the opportunity to pick up his pace. “Without it, this would not be quite as much fun.”

He bites his tongue, holding onto his response as he rounds the next corner, hoping to catch her—but she is gone again. This time her tunic and trousers lie in a heap, dark against the white and gold tiles. “You do realize this is a public space, yes?” he says, gathering them up.

“And you do realize that we are quite alone, and it’s after hours. Exceedingly after hours.”

I’ve noticed. The ache for her blooms deep within. He can imagine what she must look like now—standing in her underthings, her jewellery shining in the moonlight—and the thought is too alluring to ignore. His breath catches in his throat and he hurries down the path.

“Aye,” he says finally, rounding another corner. “We’re alone.”

She laughs. Is she behind him, or is that her voice echoing? “Come here, then,” she says softly. “Come find me.”

He pauses, trembling with anticipation at the request. “Where are you?” he whispers.

She doesn’t answer.

Thancred turns the last bend and his heart stops.

Aureia sits on the edge of a white bench in a secluded, hidden corner of the arboretum perhaps only she knows about, caught in a pool of blue-green light that flows in through the ornamental stained glass and backlit by the soft glow of blooming heartblooms. Her back is to him, her skin alabaster and luminescent in the light, the arcane marks branded across her shoulder blades faded from red to silver. She has one leg crossed over the other, her foot pointed, her heeled boot extending the line of her leg. Her body is adorned in small pearls and crystals in two parts, the loops criss-crossing over her thighs and around her hips, down her shoulders and across her breasts.

Desire courses through him, warm and hot and heady. She must have been wearing it this entire time, a treasure hidden beneath nondescript clothing. There’s something charming, perhaps even a bit magical, about the lengths to which she has gone to create this moment—and it only makes him want her more.

His breath quickens. He sets down her clothing. “Aureia…”

She glances over her shoulder and puts a finger to her lips, regarding him with dark, liquid eyes. The pearls and crystals rustle with her movements, the sleeves drooping lavishly over her upper arms. She may as well be naked, the adornments leave nothing to the imagination. A fine sheen of sweat clings to her skin, glistening from the arboretum’s humidity. Her necklace lies against her collarbone, the silver pendant shimmering in the light. Her hair remains swept away from her face, save for the one stubborn lock that curls attractively against the column of her throat.

There is something dreamlike about her in this liminal place, at once both quite real and not real enough. Perhaps it’s the gardens, perhaps it’s the light, perhaps it’s the godsdamn lingerie that will be the end of him.

Here, tonight, she may as well be a goddess. And by the gods—whatever now remains of them—he will worship her, body and soul.

Aureia extends a hand.

Thancred takes it and raises it to his lips. His eyes flick up, his gaze trained rapturously on her, and he presses a slow, agonizing kiss to the back of her hand. She holds still, her chest rising and falling with steady breath.

This is a moment to savour.

He turns her hand and presses his mouth to the inside of her wrist, his lips ghosting across her skin as he holds them both here in this moment. She sighs softly, an invitation for more, and he takes it in earnest, trailing slow, aching kisses up the length of her arm. Soon he is standing before her, head bowed, a hand cupping the side of her face. She raises her chin, ruby eyes open and sparkling, the curve of her lips lifted in a gentle smile. The light catches the pearls clinging to her arms and breasts, casting colour across the iridescent sheen. Her chest rises and falls with her breath, dusky nipples peaking out from behind the loops of teardrops. 

His thumb brushes her cheek. Together, they breathe. One breath. Two. Something passes between them, something words cannot express.

Her gaze remains locked to his, staring intently as she spreads her legs, the net of pearls and crystals on her lower half tinkling with her movements. He steps between them and leans down, fingers skimming her collarbone as he kisses her. A faint sigh escapes her, muffled against his lips, and his tongue slips inside her mouth, kissing her just as he has hundreds of times before. Hot, liquid desire courses through him and he forces it down, keen not to let this moment pass too quickly.

He drags a hand down her chest, slipping it through the beads of pearls, and cups her breast. The moan he coaxes from her now is more urgent than before. She breaks the kiss, head tilting back, a loose curl brushing the column of her throat. Dark lashes flutter against pale skin as he runs a thumb over her nipple, caressing it to a peak. Trembling, she opens her eyes and breathes a sigh into the warm, humid air.

She reaches for him, her fingertips brushing first the tattoos on his neck, then the white choker around his throat. Even after all these years, he still wears it.

Her gaze finds his.

She hooks a finger beneath the choker and pulls him down, crushing her mouth to his. He groans and leans into her, one hand cradling the back of her neck, the other squeezing her breast. His knees quake, his lips still pressed to hers in a raw and open kiss, and he sinks before her to kneel between her legs.

A growl rumbles in the back of his throat and he drags his lips from the corner of her mouth and along her jaw, down the column of her throat to her collarbone. When he presses a long, sucking kiss to the hollow of her throat, she grips the edge of the bench and holds herself still. Her leg hooks around him, pulling him closer, her heel pressed against his back, and she bites her lower lip to muffle a moan. The sound sends a pleasurable shiver rolling down his spine.

Heat flushes through him from his core, his head spinning with the haze of desire.

A light touch now. He slips down her body, his nose grazing the beads that fall in a line down her breastbone, his hands roaming across the strings of pearls. It doesn’t take much to push them apart, to loop them back and out of the way. He falls against her, hands now locked around her waist, holding her securely as he presses his face to her breasts. His tongue flicks across her nipple and she inhales a sharp breath. He chuckles huskily and teases her with his tongue, pressing one sucking kiss after another until she is trembling in his arms.

The ghost of his name murmurs on her lips, lost in the sound of the arboretum’s rippling water and rustling leaves.

He moves further down, the stubble on his chin scratching her skin as he presses kiss after kiss to the soft curves of her belly. Her head tilts back, her sighs now fading into the gentle quiet of this lush and private place. Her foot slips, her heel grazing the floor, and she shifts her weight, arcing her hips towards him. He grins and slides a hand beneath her thigh, the other falling to her hip. He toys with the pearls there, twining the strands between his fingers.

He kisses above her navel.  

She trembles. Her foot digs into his rear, pushing him closer. A moment later, her fingers thread in his hair, pulling gently as she leads him down to all the places she wants to be touched. Blood pulses in his veins, desire pooling deep within at the command. He groans, the sound muffled against her stomach, the yearning for her—to caress, to kiss, to feel, to explore every part of her—clouds his mind, everything else all but forgotten.

He kisses further down, coming to rest above the apex of her thighs. She breathes his name and he chances a glance upwards, gazing at her, entranced. In these few precious seconds, he takes her all in—the dark of her hair, the curve of her lips, the strength of her arms, the alluring gleam of those damn pearls wrapped around her breasts. Such beautiful sensuality that only makes him crave her more.

She is here. With him. For him. This exquisite moment a creation of her design.

He bows his head and presses his mouth to the scintillating heat between her legs.

The scent and taste of her is intoxicating. Breathing deep, he drinks her up, lapping at her clit. She gasps, her breath hitching, and drags her fingers through his hair, firmer this time. He groans, his own desire pushing tight against his trousers, and for a moment he basks in the memory of her hand around his cock, stroking him to sweet release. He coasts on the tender desire, letting it swell and bloom even as his mouth works her into a mewling mess. She pants above him, eyes closed, chest heaving, her hair unravelling even more now.  

He shifts his weight, his knees aching where they press against the marble tile, and turns his head, sweeping his tongue through her folds. Up, down, licking and sucking, some movements long and languid, others fast and fervent. A pause so as not to overstimulate, to leave the sensitive nub yearning for more while he attends to other parts of her. He strokes downward with the flat of his tongue and slides it into the heady heat of her cunt, thrusting in deep. He has always been good with his mouth. The way she tenses and relaxes under his ministrations, the scent and taste of her, the small sounds she makes, the view of her from between her legs. How could this not be the way to make love to her?  

Pleasure pulses within him, hot and bright.

He grips her hips, one hand slipping below the drooping pearls to squeeze her ass. She tenses, her pleasure mounting, her fingers running again and again through his hair as the foot hooked around his waist holds him tight.

With a smirk, he drags his mouth upward, pulls her clit into his mouth, and sucks.

She cries out, trembling and shaking as he pushes her past her peak. Her leg slips from its position, sliding over his ass to hit the floor, the sound of her heel striking the marble tile echoing through the gallery. Her hands move from his hair to his jaw, cradling his face as she the last waves of pleasure fade, and at last she stills, her faint, shallow breaths resounding in his ears. He draws back and sinks to the floor, his head resting against her thigh, and covers her hand with his. Their fingers twine together, holding tight.

They sit, her perched on the bench, him on the floor, and breathe as one in a pool of blue-green light. His heart thunders in his chest, so loud he is certain she can hear it.

He closes his eyes.

Fingers rest against his chin, gently turning his head up. Heels clicking on the floor. Pearls rustling by him.

When he opens his eyes, he finds her standing before him, a mischievous smile on her face. She takes his hand and pulls him up, leaning in to capture his mouth with hers. His lips part for her and she kisses him deeply, drawing him in so deep he thinks nothing of what she is doing until he finds himself turned, his back now to the bench, the backs of his calves pressed against it. She breaks the kiss and glances up at him, gazing at him from under dark lashes.

She slips a hand between his legs, palming the hardened bulge.

Pleasure strikes through him, warm and wanting.

She presses her body against his and undoes his trousers, pulling his cock free.

His chest rises, his breath caught in his throat.

She places her hands on his shoulders.    

His knees buckle. He stares at her, captivated, and allows her to push him down onto the bench. He sits, watching as if spellbound as she sinks to her knees. She places her hands on his thighs, her touch featherlight even as she pushes his legs apart, her gaze still trained on his. Desire throbs within him, his cock flushed and erect, and this moment of pause driving him mad. He has never wanted her to touch him more.

Please. The plead lies voiceless on the tip of his tongue.

She smiles, running her hands along the inside of his thighs. The light reflects off the loops of pearls, shimmering bright.

Then she bends, bowing her head, and takes him in her mouth.

His chest heaves, a sharp intake of breath flooding his lung, and pleasure courses through him as her tongue sweeps across the tip of his cock. He blinks, his vision dark and hazy with lust, time slowing to a halt as he gazes at the person between his legs. His lips part, mouth half-open in a sloppy, stunned smile, a moan rumbling in his throat as she takes him deeper.

Her hand slides between his thighs and cups him gently.

He curses, his hips arcing in response. His teeth scrape his lower lip and he clings desperately to the sensation, wanting more and yet fearing it will end too soon. Groaning, he shifts his weight and reaches for her, running his fingers through her hair. Her bun loosens, more strands coming undone and falling against her collarbone. The sight of her—the dishevelled hair now at odds with the precise exquisiteness of the pearl lingerie, kneeling between his legs with her mouth and hands around his cock—sends coiling heat rushing through him.

Her eyes flick up, meeting his. A small, playful smirk brightens her eyes.

She presses her lips around the tip of his cock and sucks, lavishing him with her tongue.

His fingers grip her hair, holding her close, his moan echoing through the empty gallery. He trembles, the need to move, the desire to thrust upwards making his head spin, but he holds still for her. She draws out one stroke after another, faster and faster, sucking and sucking until at last he cannot hold himself back. He gasps, trembling as he spills into her mouth. She takes it calmly and in control, steady where he is shaking, and at last pulls back and releases him with a wet pop. 

She sits back on her haunches and looks up at him with a satisfied grin, gently wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

He stares back in wonder, his hands still in her hair, and leans down, resting his forehead against hers. The air around them swirls, warm with the scent of sweat and sex. The glow of heartblooms gleams in his peripheral vision, their luminous petals flushed a golden pink.

He cradles her and kisses her cheek. Her jaw. Her ear. Her lips. Her neck. They should be done and over, but he wants nothing more than to draw her into him, to feel every part of her.

He takes her hands and draws her up.

She stands before him, radiant in the hazy light, hair unravelling, ruby eyes shining. Her gaze sweeps over him and she reaches out, pressing a palm to his chest, right over his heart. She pauses, feeling the beat of his heart beneath her fingertips, brimming with life and joy. She leans in, brushing her fingers across his cheek, and kisses him.

He groans against her lips, surprised by the gentleness of her touch. Drawing back, he meets her eyes, a question in his gaze as his hands drift to her hips. She smiles, her laughter soft, and nods, kissing him again in confirmation.

He grins.

Gripping her hips, he turns her around. His gaze flicks up, looking her up and down, admiring the strength of her back, the shape of her ass, the way the pearl straps loop around her curves. Exhaling a breath, he pulls her eagerly into his lap, her familiar weight leaving him flushed and aroused. He kisses her shoulder, dragging his lips up to the crook of her neck. He kisses her deeply, sucking at the delicate skin, one hand wrapping around her waist. His touch is featherlight, teasing her with faint brushes against her inner thighs, drawing out the moment.

At last, he slips his fingers between her legs.

She is warm and slick, and she trembles in his arms as he runs a finger across her clit. Still sensitive—the lightest stroke has her moaning. A husky chuckle rumbles in the back of his throat and he places a hand against her cheek, turning her head to kiss her. He parts her lips with his tongue and strokes downward with his fingers, pressing them to the entrance of her cunt. She gasps, a faint demand for more murmured on her lips, and he pushes a finger inside, thrusting in and out. Her breath hitches and she arcs her hips, grinding against him as she moves in rhythm to his thrusts.

He bows his head, forehead brushing her shoulder. Desire simmers deep within. She rolls her hips, stoking his arousal, and his cock stiffens, yearning for more. The desire to be within her is too potent for words.  

Holding her close, he pulls his fingers free and shimmies her back. She pants, breathless and wild, and plants her heels on the floor. She pushes up and he grips himself, guiding his cock. She moans as he enters her, pushing into the aching, swollen heat.

Finally, he sheathes himself with her.

She pauses, adjusting to the pressure, the moves, pulling him deeper to the sweet spot that has her trembling with pleasure. He clutches her to him, wrapping a hand around her front and slipping it beneath the pearls. He toys with her breast, plucking delicately at her nipple, enjoying the mewls he coaxes from her as he thrusts up into her, slow and deep. She sighs and leans against him, her back pressing into his chest, the clasps of her lingerie catching on his shirt.

Her hand grips his thigh.

His tangles in her hair, unwinding the rest of her bun until her hair falls, wild and free, about her shoulders.

Then she presses up off the floor, taking control of their pace, and rides him with slow, purposeful movements.   

His heart thunders, blood rushes in his ears, and all sense of time and space evaporates. He kisses her—shoulders, neck, back, anywhere and everywhere within reach. Her back arches and her hips roll, drawing fervent pleasure from him again and again until he is certain he can hold on no longer.

His hand slips from her breast, his slick palm pressed flat against her stomach, and he reaches around with the other and dips below her navel. One heated stroke of her clit and she is shaking. A second and she is whimpering with bliss. A third and she crashes over her peak, her hand squeezing his thigh as her cunt clenches around his shaft.

Her wordless voice, her panting breath, the frenetic beat of her heart, it is all the sweetest music of recent memory. Here, in this moment of ecstasy, they stare out together at these gardens of blue and green and gold. Here, in this place of her own making, she leads him to rapture. 

He comes, his cry muffled against her shoulder, thrusting deep as he spills into her. She moans, her head lolling back, eyes closed, shaking as he strokes her through her climax. Another wave of pleasure crests and crashes, and she is panting and shaking as he brings her to one last end. Finally, he slips free, pleasantly spent, sweat clinging to the inside of his shirt, and does up his trousers. She twists around and curls up in his lap, her legs thrown haphazardly over his and her arms about his shoulders, her face buried in his neck. Her long hair tumbles down her back in a tangle, the red streaks fading into black.

He holds her and at last there is silence. True silence.

“I should have told you sooner,” Thancred says quietly, cradling her in his arms.

“Hm?”

“You are radiant tonight, Aureia darling.”

She snorts, muffling a little giggle with her hand. “A ridiculous idea, this,” she says, plucking at the pearls looped over her arm. “I should never have gotten this thing, and yet… well.”

“Well?”

She brushes his cheek with her thumb, running it across the stubble on his jaw. “I wanted to surprise you. And I rather like the way you look at me when I’m wearing something like this.”

“Is that so? Then you simply must give me more reasons to look.”

“Sweet talker.”

“With you? Always.”

They remain there for a time, surrounded by intimate quiet, caught in the glow of the heartblooms’ fading luminescence. It is rare for them to have such moments to themselves, though they are becoming more common in these halcyon days of their retirement. Moments of bliss and aching passion, tempered by their long years together. In a strange way, he feels they are only now finding the small pleasures that simply were not possible in their youth. Back in a time when they were both shaped by their sense of duty, by promises made to themselves and others, to the fate of nations and the destiny of the star.

Such matters are over now.   

Time moves ever onwards. There are new joys to explore, new moments to discover.

Perhaps this is what peace is.

[kitty-cat-nat]

A sweet heat.

G'raha Tia has never been known to be anything other than a man focused on education and research, priotising his pursuit of knowledge over anything else. When the miqo'te experienced his first heat as a young Tia, he immedietely seeked out some sort of way to suppress the need to satisfy his cravings for a mate, and found a solution in a potion given to him by one of the local alchemists. As other male Seekers around him experienced their heats and laid with their mates every season, G'raha could be found with his head stuck in a book, blissfully unaware of the desires of the flesh.

It wasn't until after the events at the Crystal Tower that G'raha would slip up and forget about his concoction , for as the Crystal Exarch, he never needed it. As he became one with the tower, a lot of his more primitive needs were suppressed, including his heat and desire to bed a mate. So when he was finally returned to The First and had his old form back, the need for a suppressant was far forgotten by the ginger miqo'te. That is of course until one fateful day it hits him at the worst possible time and place.

In the empty library of The Studium, the Seeker could not shake the uneasy feeling in his body, something was amiss, and it frustrated the man deeply. He was struggling to read more than one sentence of the book in front of him and he could hardly even think clearly. At first he assumed he was falling ill, judging from the sweat forming on his body despite the cool temperature of the room. He was so focused on trying to figure out what was ailing him, that he failed to notice your presence enter the library, and as soon as your voice of greeting met his ears, the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was not ill, no, he was being hit with a heat, and judging from how quickly he is loosing himself, it might be the worst heat he would ever experience.

G'raha looses his balance on the stool he was standing upon, and for a moment, wishes the ground would swallow him whole, not only was he making a fool of himself in front of the Warrior of Light, but now he had this damned heat fogging his brain and making it hard for him to focus and form coherent sentences.

As you rush to aid your miqo'te friend, panic flashes in his crimson eyes as he sees your form nearing him, kneeling beside him with concern written all over your face. He notices your attire and he blushes, you were wearing a simple tunic, nothing fancy, but to him? Oh to him you have never looked more beautiful.

"G'raha? Are you alright? I'm so sorry if I startled you. Did you get hurt at all?" Your sweet voice mixed with the adorable way your ears pulled back and your fluffy tail swayed back and forth in worry for the man made it incredibly difficult for him to focus. And as soon as the skin of your hands make contact with his arms, it shoots a bolt of electricity straight through his body and right to his cock. Luckily for him you are too focused on his wellbeing to notice the prominent bulge forming between his legs.

He can hardly hear your voice anymore, he's losing himself at a pace he cannot control and the only things flooding his mind is how good it feels to have your hands on him. He can smell you, and oh gods do you smell incredible to him. The scent of nature clings to your body, no doubt from all your adventuring you have been doing while away from him.

It doesn't take very long for you to notice something is very wrong with the man in front of you, and as you make eye contact with him, you are hyperaware of his pupils being the size of dinner plates. You notice the sheen of sweat covering his body and causing his clothing to cling to his muscular frame. Worry seeps into you as you realize you should probably find one of the healers to come and aid G'raha for whatever ails him. But as you move to leave the miqo's side, you suddenly find yourself on the floor, arms pinned above your head and crimson eyes staring you down.

"G-G'raha?" Gods the way you say his name, it makes the man burn with a passionate need for you the scream it as he's burying his cock inside you. Some part of G'raha is still hyper aware of what he is doing and some shame fills the man as he looks down upon your frame.

"I apologize (y/n)…you would forgive me…that I find myself in a very…difficult position right now." Confusion fills your face, ands its not until you feel the very obvious bulge of the man above you pushing against your thigh that you realize what is wrong with him. A blush explodes over your cheeks as your body heats up in response to having a male in heat so close to you. You would be lying to yourself if you say that you have not thought about this many times while you were alone in your chambers at night, and you were not about to let a perfectly good opportunity go to waste.

"Let me help you, G'raha." He looks down at you with wide eyes, not expecting you to be so understanding of the situation, much less offer to help him. Gods, did you even realize what you were offering the man, were you aware of how much of an effect it was having on him?

"My sweet warrior, always so eager to help those in need…but I…I shouldn't, this isn't right of me- I shouldn't be…taking advantage of you like this" As he rambles on and gathers himself for a second, he weakens his grip on your wrists, allowing you to break free and push him back onto the floor. Now it was your turn to pin the mans wrist above his head, years of being the Warrior of Light making this task incredibly easy. You stare down at the man beneath you, a coy smile on your face and your eyes hazy with lust.

"G'raha…please, let me help you, let me take care of you." As the words leave your mouth, you lean your head down and leave soft kisses upon his neck, pulling a gasp out of him as you do. "Will you allow me to give you the release you need?" As the words leave your mouth, G'raha can only stare at you and nod his head in agreement to your offer. You smile down at him as you release his wrists, now moving your hands down his body.

G'raha could swear that your touch was leaving a trail of fire upon his skin as your hands become familiar with his body. His senses were on high as his control was quickly faltering, leaving him with little choice on being still or compliant while you tease and torment him. It doesn't take him very long to assert control over the situation once more, with you pinned beneath him and his breathing heavy as his eyes stare into yours with one goal in mind. Although his brain is hazed with lust, he is still your G'raha, and something inside him allows to wait, as if asking for you to give consent to his plans for you. While you could easily regain the control over him, something primal within you is screaming at you to submit to G'raha, to give him the green light to ravish you as he wishes and leave you at his mercy, and Gods were you more than happy to obey the inner urge to do just that. Who are you to deny something you are both clearly desperate for? Something that you both crave carnally. Your yearning for the Scion has gone on long enough you would be a fool to deny not only yourself this, but to deny him of his needs.

"Do it, take me as you please, make me yours to keep, yours to breed." All restraint leaves his body as he hears you say that, he seizes the opportunity to capture your lips and kiss you with an inferno like passion that sends your senses into overdrive. You can feel his tongue becoming familiar with yours as the heat between you both was growing by the second. Nothing about this situation was gentle or slow anymore and you thank whichever Gods allowed the library to be empty at this hour, allowing you the privacy you both so desperately desired.

It wasn't long before both your and G'raha's clothing was long forgotten and discarded upon the floor of the library, leaving you both in your underwear. Your hands becoming one with every muscle on his body and his hands firmly placed on your hips as he pulls you close to him, turning his head to deepen the kiss. You suspect that he can feel your arousal for him through your underwear and your suspicions were confirmed the moment you felt his knee push between your thighs and a groan of satisfaction leaves lips.

"Look at you, so ready for me. Your body is screaming for me to touch you, hmm?" He smirks down at you, a glint in his eyes that makes you feel small and submissive, a side of him you have never seen before, and you honestly don't hate it. You love seeing him like this, the usually shy and bashful miqo now dominant and assertive, you would be lying if you said it wasn't making your pussy drip with desire.

There weren't a lot of moments that shocked you, but the moment the normally sweet and gentle G'raha Tia picked you up and pushed you against the wall was certainly one of them. The heat coming off of his body was igniting a heat in yours that made you crave this man deep inside you, and you did not have to wait long.

"Spreads your legs for me, my hero, let me show you how your body should be worshipped." As he borderline growls the instructions in your ears, you comply instinctively. G'raha smiles into your neck, his teeth grazing your neck and pulling out the sweetest whimper from your lips. Although he would never admit it, he was memorizing every little sound you were making, burning it into his memory for later use. As soon as G'raha pushed the tip of his cock inside of you, your body was set alight. You have had bedmates before this, but the feel of G'raha Tia being so intimate with you and being so close just felt so different - it felt right. And with every inch entering you, he was trying his best not to lose himself and fuck you senseless against this wall, he might have been lost in the haze of heat, but he still wanted his first time with you to be special, at least so he thought. The moment he was fully inside of you, your hands found their way into his hair and you let out a moan so sinfully addictive that G'raha would do anything to hear you make those sounds once again. He was so lost in the siren song of your moans that he almost didn't hear what you said.

"I know what you need and I want it just as badly, stop holding back and fuck me like you mean it Raha" You look into his eyes and he can see just how desperately you want him to ruin you, and he will never fully admit how much it effected him to see you - normally so compsed and proper - now feral and horny beyond belief. "Whatever you want my dear, I shall give it to you" and with that all restraints were off, he would no longer hold back from giving you what he truly wanted. As G'raha gets a better grip on your thighs with his fingers softly digging into the soft flesh, he starts pounding into you with no mercy. Your moans bounce off the walls of the library as you lose yourself in the feeling of his cock inside of you, and the way he seems to fill you so perfectly.

G'raha did not know the pleasures of fucking a miqo'te in his heat, but gods above did he regret not doing it sooner. He was quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of your walls hugging him so tightly, your moans and whimpers sounding like heaven upon his ears. He was getting a rush out of it, knowing he was the one pleasing you like this, that he was the one finally getting to fuck you the way he has subconsciously fantasized about over the course of your friendship together.

He was peppering kisses all over your neck and collarbone, leaving tiny bites upon your skin, and occasionally sucking on the sensitive spots. He was marking you with love bites, a subtle sign that you belonged to him and he was proud that you would be wearing them on your skin for days to come. It did not take long for G'raha to feel you tightening around him, your moans becoming more urgent while you clawed at his back. He fully knew what this meant, he knew you were close and gods was he excited to watch you come undone on his cock.

"That's it my sweet warrior, cum for me, show me how much you love the feeling of me buried inside you" He was basically growling into your neck, his own thrusts becoming fast and sloppy, he was making it hard not to cum, for both you and him. And as your walls clamp down around him and your nails dig into his back, G'raha loses himself in the feeling, burying his cock into you, shooting ropes of cum deeply into you.

As you both come down from your highs, G'raha's mind finally clears of the heat, and as he stares down upon your face, and then your naked bodies joint together, he can't help but be embrassed. "F-Forgive me, I- I should not have gone so…I mean, you shouldn't have had to see me in such a state, I deeply apolo-" G'raha is cut off as you grab his face and kiss him passionately.

"Apologize for nothing, I wanted this as much as you did. And I must say, I do hope this won't be the last time either. You are a exceptional lover, G'raha Tia." The ginger miqo'te finds himself blushing and struggling to find the words to say. But as you two part from each other, he feels the urge to still have you near him, almost like he cannot get enough of you.

"Perhaps I could properly apologize by having you join me for a warm bath and taking care of you in there?" He smiles at you bashfully, blushing red as the suggestion leaves his lips. You smile back at him, cupping his face in your hands and running your thumbs over his cheeks.

"I would love nothing more~"

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 21. Shade

Characters: Keith Summers, G'raha Tia Expansion: Dawntrail Rating: E for Lewd Summary: G'raha asks Keith to try something new with him Notes: It's lewd.

Keith yawned as he relaxed, arms behind his head, lounging as he enjoyed the cool shadows cast by the trees above. It was another rare day where he got to relax, G’khenna out with Khloe checking out treasure maps and Kirian off with Krile visiting Gulool Ja in Solution 9. To get away, he and G’raha had found themselves on a secluded picnic in one of the parks around Solution 9, enjoying the strange ambiance of the electric city, though his husband had run off somewhere for a moment.

Just as he started to feel himself drifting off to sleep, he felt the bottom of his shoe get a gentle kick. “Hey. Keith. Wake up,” G’raha cooed.

Stretching, Keith sat up, finding his husband blushing and carrying a small black bag. He tilted his head confused, “Whatcha got there? More food?” 

G’raha shook his head. “I’ll show you in a minute. Follow me.”

Keith blinked then stood, following G’raha toward a large building and upstairs into one of the apartments. He whistled, looking around the place before turning as G’raha pushed the bag into his arms. “Ah. A present too? What did I do to deserve this?”

G’raha lowered his ears, fumbling with the end of his scarf for a moment as he blushed and looked away. “I want you to put that on. Only that…and then come over to the bedroom and…well. Pretend you’re a ruffian from the Arcadium and I’m your biggest fan,” he said before running off around the corner.

Keith stared into the distance a moment before looking down into the bag, finding only a mask inside. He chuckled lightly then set it down, taking a moment to strip as he was told before putting on the mask. Wandering into the room, he grinned under his mask, finding G’raha naked and sitting back on his knees looking up at him, length already sprung up between his legs.

“What do I have here? An adoring fan? Come for my autograph,” he asked, putting his foot on the edge of the bed as he leaned over. “Though by uh, the looks of you…you’re lookin’ for a little more to take back with you.”

G’raha nodded, leaning back to show just how excited he was to Keith as the other leaned over him. “I’m your biggest fan. You looked like you really fought hard out there. I thought I might come back and soothe any aches you might have. Take care of your…needs.”

Keith chuckled under the mask, finding the other’s bashfulness rather cute. Leaning back, he put his hand on the back of the other’s head then brought him into his groin, rubbing his hardening cock against the other’s face while dragging his balls slowly up his mouth. “Well, I wouldn’t mind getting cleaned up a little. Do you think you can serve your daring hero, Shade?”

G’raha’s ears perked a little as he was trapped against his husband’s length. He let out a pant, inhaling Keith’s strong scent before timidly starting to lick against his set, earning loud groans of pleasure through the mask. Closing his eyes, he pulled Keith’s cock down toward him and started to bob his head down it, tongue rolling along the underside as he lowered his hand to stroke himself. Pulling back, he lifted his leg and put his foot square on Keith’s chest. “Was that good enough Shade? Did I earn your trophy?”

Keith grit his teeth, trying not to laugh at how hammy they were being. “Not quiet,” he said, brushing the other’s foot aside before crawling over the other. He went to kiss him, but found the mask uncooperative. Huffing he rolled the other back then carefully guided him up by the base of his tail. His hand snaked down, grabbing G’raha’s cock before roughly stroking down it, letting him leak out all over his hand as he erupted into a flurry of moans. A chuckle escaped him, G’raha seeming a bit more excited than normal. Unable to help himself, he took hold of his own length and stroked it in time with his husband’s.

Once Keith’s palm was well slicked by G’raha’s length, he let go then shifted behind him, taking his wet fingers and pressing two inside before spreading them. G’raha let out a high pitched whine, tail wrapping around Keith’s wrist as he was roughly fingered by him. He rubbed his head into the bed, turning it briefly to peak up at his masked husband.

Keith caught the glance then gave G’raha’s ass a small little slap, letting his pale cheek turn red and getting a squeak out of him. Shifting behind the other, he withdrew his fingers then leaned inward, flexing his cock against his husband’s eager hole before angling it down to dip inside. “Let me show you my pile drive,” he teased before thrusting forward, hilting himself as G’raha writhed under him. 

Keith bent over, reaching around to grab G’raha’s cock again to stroke it as he rolled his hips, letting them roughly collide until the room was filled with the slaps of their union. “Oh gods! Shade!” G’raha cried out as he was buried from behind, meeting Keith’s thrusts with his own as he felt his sweet spot grazed. 

Grunting, Keith nuzzled into G’raha’s ear as he felt the other start to squeeze his cock inside. “I’m going to cum,” he moaned out, thrusting harder as he started to chase the feeling, clumsily working his hand down his husband’s cock.

“Do it,” G’raha begged, purring loudly before flattening his ears back and crying out as he started to let loose himself, spraying thick strands of seed across the blanket under him.

Keith nodded, thrusting harder as G’raha’s walls started to milk him. His balls tightening, he roared through his mask then began to unload inside his husband. He shuddered as it poured out of him, finding his climax rather intense. Slowly, he pulled out then rolled over onto his back, flinging the mask aside as G’raha came up to purr against his chest. “That was, uh, kind of new and exciting. If not just the tiniest bit corny.”

“Perrrhaps just a little,” G’raha mused, nuzzling into Keith’s neck before giving him a few kisses. “Thank you for indulging me though. Maybe next time I can teach you how to use rrrope.”

“Rope? I know how to use rope,” Keith said before thinking on it for a moment. “Oh…you mean…”

“Yes, Shade,” G’raha laughed.

Keith flushed. “Hey, I was on the spot!”

G’raha chuckled, pulling Keith down into an affectionate kiss before they both started to chuckle and cuddle up together.

[ageha-sds]

'kay, we're still on this train. i actually wasn't gonna post this, but my best friend wanted me to, and you know what, fuck it, we ball again with y'shtola

[amoebaforce]

I'm sorry for this but I need Emet Selch, Thancred, and Zenos to get pegged 😩. None of them are tops and you can fight me on this 😳.

anon, don't apologize. if anything, this was a stroke of genius on your part.

please enjoy my contribution to the Pegging Broody Men community. everything under the cut this time!

characters featured: Emet-Selch, Thancred Waters, Zenos yae Galvus tags: NSFW (mdni), anal sex, pegging, fingering, lube, use of a strap-on, gn!WoL (but I guess implied to be AFAB?)

Emet-Selch

Hear me out, but… a civilization like the Ancients’ would be devoid of sexual prejudice, right? Like, they probably wouldn’t even label sexualities the way modern peoples do. Therefore… Emet has definitely bottomed before, yes?

So, when the WoL brings it up, he hardly bats an eye. “I didn’t take you for the type, darling, but if you want to try something new, who am I to deny you?” The Warrior didn’t think it’d be that easy, but they’re certainly not gonna complain.

Emet is almost completely shameless when it comes to bodies, his included. To him, it is merely a vessel for a soul, and he’s only in the shape of a Hyur right now for convenience’s sake. He’ll put himself in any position that makes it easier for the WoL.

He’s not shy about preparing himself for them, either. Emet urges their hands into place, one working his cock while the other pumps two lubed fingers in and out of him. His cheeks flush pink with arousal, and he moans softly as the WoL takes control. They look so beautiful as they watch his body respond to theirs — their eyes half-lidded, lips parted with desire. 

It’s intoxicating. Need blazes through him, casting a pleasant haze over his senses. When the Warrior finally slides their toy into him, Emet can’t help but groan at the wave of relief their intrusion brings. His hips roll in time with theirs, bringing their two selves closer and closer, until they run out of room and Emet can pull their face down to his. 

The kiss he gives them is impossibly tender. The WoL closes their eyes as they thrust, deep and slow and deliberate, and Emet moans into their mouth. He feels like he needs something to hold onto, else he might float away, and his grasping hands find the WoL’s shoulders. 

How are they so good at this? Emet wonders absently. Plucking my chords like a bard on a harp… As if we’ve done this before. He stifles a whine at the sensation of their toy dragging along his inner walls. Emet decides the Warrior has been holding out on him, and he’s suddenly very determined to change that.

The Warrior knows he’s getting close when his breaths go choppy and his quiet gasps pitch even higher. They twist their wrist as they stroke his twitching length, squeezing him just the way they know he likes. Emet throws his head back. He grits his teeth as his entire body clenches, then cries out as the first wave of his climax hits. 

His hands are vices on the WoL’s flesh until he’s done coming. When they go limp and fall away, ten little red marks linger as evidence of his presence, and the Warrior brushes some hair from Emet’s forehead. “Are you okay?” they ask, sounding a little sheepish. Emet laughs weakly. “Spectacular, darling,” he drawls, lips curling into a smirk.

Thancred

He definitely considers himself a “try anything once” kind of guy, and this would be no exception… although, it does make him a little shy to think that the WoL has been picturing him in such a compromising position.

They’ll have to start slow. The WoL lays him on his back and kneels between his thighs, taking their time as they kiss and nip at him. It’s a role reversal that spins Thancred’s head, encouraging him to surrender to the sensations. Before long, he’s melting in their hands — moaning, sighing, already coming apart.

Once the WoL’s hands wander to the lube, he suddenly remembers what’s happening and blushes furiously. He’s worked up and sensitive, and even the gentlest introductory touches have him moaning and biting his lip. When he’s ready for their fingers, the slow insertion drags a whimper up his throat. He screws his eyes shut.

The WoL kisses Thancred’s throat and murmurs praises into his skin as they add another finger, then another. He’s panting and twitching under them when they inform him he could take their strap now, if he wanted to. His desperate nods and unintelligible pleas are confirmation enough.

The shattered moan he utters when the tip of the toy pushes into him is sublime. The WoL has never heard Thancred so undone, and it stirs a hungry need within them. They’re careful as they work their strap deeper, slowly rolling their hips until they bottom out inside of him. Once they feel him relax, their pace picks up a little speed.

His toes are curling, his chest is heaving, his body is bucking. “Please touch me,” he begs, and the Warrior smiles as they oblige. Their hand wraps around his achingly hard length, purposefully ignored until now, and Thancred practically wails as his orgasm crashes down upon him. 

His writhing doesn’t end for almost a minute, and when it’s done, his entire chest is splattered with his release. Thancred groans and reaches up to cover his burning face; he didn’t expect to enjoy himself quite so vividly. He’ll be red for the next few hours.

Zenos

Definition of a power bottom!!! Even in canon, this man is hot and bothered about the WoL dominating him every time they see each other!!!

Zenos doesn’t have a lot of hands-on experience (he was very isolated until recently), but he knows what he likes, and what he likes is the WoL. He’d let them do all manner of things to him in the name of testing each other’s boundaries or sharing an intimate experience.

He’s almost too impatient as they work their way through foreplay, and things quickly escalate until he’s on his stomach underneath the Warrior, hips angled up and knees spread, grumbling as he waits for them to finish lubricating everything.

“You said you wanted to fuck me for a change, hero,” Zenos says defiantly. “Why don’t you get to it already?” Oh, they are so going to make him eat those words. The WoL doesn’t say a thing — just lines the toy up to his entrance and pushes the first third of its length inside.

He’s been (begrudgingly) prepared enough that the stretch is manageable, but he can’t stop himself from choking out a gasp and gripping the edge of his bed. His body pulses, cock twitching against his stomach. Zenos bucks and swears as the Warrior pulls back an inch, then pushes in two. Again and again.

They worry for a second that it’s too much, based on the amount of noise Zenos is making, but he doesn’t say the safe word. Instead, when they slow down to assess his comfort, he casts a glower over his shoulder. “Don’t you dare stop,” he hisses.

The Warrior laughs and slaps his ass playfully, earning another gasp, then resumes their pace. Zenos moans deeply when they finally crash their hips against his. The toy’s tip finds something incredibly sensitive inside him. He shudders as his back arches, hands clawing at the linens. 

The rocking of their entangled bodies has been grinding his cock against the bed, and he’s already close to the edge. Still the WoL fucks him, unrelenting, hands migrating to his shoulders to better pin down his writhing form. Zenos feels completely at their mercy as they pound him, and the idea sends him toppling. 

He makes a loud, open-mouthed noise as he comes, spilling all over himself and the sheets. Zenos’ eyes roll back, his jaw slackens, and his body buckles with exertion. The Warrior feels his legs shaking against theirs. They start to pull out, telling him how pretty he looked coming for them, but he lifts his head.

“We’re not done,” Zenos pants. “Do that again.”

[wundergeek]

New FFXIV fic: Research: the Most Fun a Catboy Can Have Without Taking off His Clothes

Length: 2 chapters, 8.5K words total Alisaie (trans) / G'raha (trans) / Warrior of Light (non-binary) (Eventual) very smutty smut As always: (1) I don't care what the devs say, Alisaie is absolutely not 16. By 5.3, she'd be about 23. (2) In a world where no one is explicitly gay or trans, that means anyone can be.

- - -

Alisaie shifted and looked down at her hands. "I had several classes with Raha at the Studium, but we were never anything other than friends there. At that point, he still thought his precious Allagans could do no wrong, and he spent all his time with a nose in a book while I was always skipping classes. Then, when we met again in the First, he'd been the Exarch too long, and he was so paranoid and secretive. Not to mention the way he was always manipulating everyone around him."

"He had to," I felt obliged to point out. "The stakes were too high."

"They were," Alisaie acknowledged, then took a deep breath. "But this new Raha..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, obviously unsure how to finish the sentence.

"He's like a fusion," I offered. "With the best qualities of both of the previous versions."

"Yes!" Alisaie's eyes flashed with relief as she looked up to meet my gaze. "He's... he's experienced. Confident. Not so desperately, irritatingly eager to prove himself, because he's already done it! And being able to set down the Exarch's mantle has made him so much more open and... trusting. He believes in everyone, and trusts people to do what they're good at." She sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. "Hells, I don't think I'm doing a good job of explaining it."

"Believe me, I get it," I said, putting my hand over one of hers. "The new G'raha is walking competence porn."

Completely caught off guard, Alisaie burst out into loud peals of cackling laughter. Finally, she was able to wrestle back some control and gave me a conspiratorial grin as she wiped her eyes. "So what would you think of maybe making our V into a triangle?"

I grinned. "It would make my life a lot easier, honestly. It's been a bit awkward trying to juggle separate one-on-one time with everything that's been going on." I paused and leaned forward as I lowered my voice. "And assuming he's on board with it, I'd love to see that pretty cock of yours in his mouth while I fuck him."

Alisaie actually blushed. "So how should I... you know. Talk to him?"

"Wow," I drawled, grinning teasingly. "Look at you not marching up to him and flat out demanding to get your mouth on his junk. You must have it really bad."

"Shut up, you," she growled, turning an even brighter shade of red.

I widened my eyes innocently. "I thought you were looking for advice?"

There was a loud thunk as Alisaie banged her forehead on the table. "I hate you. I hate you so much."

"Too bad. Guess I'll just keep him to myself then."

Alisaie lifted her head and glared at me in a way that promised I would absolutely pay for this later. "Fine. Please. Give me some advice."

I smirked. "Offer to help him do research."

It was a struggle not to laugh at the dismay on her face. "I hate research."

"So do I. And yet, my advice stands."

Alisaie scowled at me suspiciously.

"You'll get to impress him with how many books you can carry," I teased.

"You're holding out on me," Alisaie hissed, poking me hard in the shoulder. "What aren't you telling me?"

I leaned forward and held her gaze as I dropped my voice to a whisper. "He always gets horny when he's really onto some hot bit of research, and he claims that getting fucked helps him put the pieces together faster."

Alisaie's face lit up like a Starlight Tree. "Really," she breathed.

"Oh yeah," I whispered back. "It sounds wild, but several times now I've fucked him over his desk, and then he's filled an entire blackboard with notes. Clearly something about it works for him. So I help fetch and carry the books he needs, which saves him time, and I bring something to work on when he doesn't need me. After a few hours, he starts babbling about something it would take three Doctorates to follow, and that's usually about when he starts begging me to fuck him."

Alisaie's was practically salivating by the time I finished. "How do I get myself invited to one of these sessions?" she asked, enthralled.

Read the whole thing on AO3

[lovehotelreservation]

"HythlodAeuSMR: my boyfriend appears in my dreams and teases me from beyond the grave!" Tags: gentle dom, praise/dirty talk, wet dream, nipple stimulation

“Seeing you toss and turn like this—how could I ever resist from lending a hand?”

Hythlodaeus’s words were gentle and light as he spoke, a teasing inflection on each syllable.

This matched the current movements of his fingers.

“Or in this case, both of them~”

It felt too good to be true but as you basked in the ethereal warmth that currently embraced you from behind, you did not dare to question.

Rather, you merely fell further back against the chest of your eternal beloved while the two of you were huddled close together upon your bed. While he was still dressed in the thick and sweeping fabric of his black robes, he had long since stripped you bare from your sleeping attire.

The same soft, nimble fingers that undressed your body were now traveling across your skin thoroughly, seeking your satisfaction first, quenching his desire to indulge in the touch of your flesh after being apart second.

One palm cupped and fondled your chest, squeezing in tandem to the pinch of his fingertips on your nipples. His other hand was nestled right between your thighs, his fingers fluidly plunging in and out of your velvety depths with ease, all the while you squirmed and writhed against him in pleasure.

A satisfied hum escaped him upon hearing an especially sweet moan from your mouth. He then brought his lips to the base of your neck, slowly leaving a trail of kisses.

“You’re as precious as ever, my love. Promise me that you’ll be good and go to sleep once I finish making making a mess of this drooling, greedy little spot of yours.”

His teeth latched onto a particular spot on your neck before biting in just enough to leave an impression. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear at the breathless “Y-Yes Hythlodaeus!” you let out while arching your back against his hands.

Pleased, Hythlodaeus left kiss after kiss upon the red mark that soon formed on your skin.

His voice laced with love for you as always, he remarked,

“Even when we’re apart, you’re still so well behaved, my love. I’ll gladly spend all night lulling you back to sleep, so prepare yourself, okay? ♡”

[thevikingwoman]

Meryta passes through Onokoro on the way to Riesen temple, and has a very good time.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 4518 | Read on Ao3

Meryta Khatin x Tansui | After SB patch 4.3 | smut Rating: Explicit. SB 4.3 spoilers, mild Four Lords trial spoilers, Sexual content, casual relationship, Tansui being cheeky, Meryta too tbh, piv sex, oral, a bit roughness, aura head canons, confederacy headcanons, pwp

Passing Through

Meryta could, perhaps, have travelled by way of Tamamizu, but no matter how nice the kojin are, she does prefer staying above water. So, when she needs to go to Riesen Temple again, she finds herself in Onokoro.

And when she’s here, it would be rude not to pay a visit to Tansui. And Rasho of course. They are – allies, of sorts – with the Scions, and it would be discourteous to make use of their aetheryte without a greeting.

She finds Tansui on the docks, working on a small boat, painting its stern. He’s bare-chested, a paint streak on his shoulder where he has brushed against the boat.

“The Warrior of Light graces us with her presence. What doom do you bring now? Are there Garleans in your tow?”

Meryta barely stops herself from rolling her eyes. There is trouble if they don’t fix Koryu’s ward, but she doesn’t need to trouble the Confederacy with that.

“I’m just passing through, Tansui. And it’s Meryta, please.”

He grins, and turns to the boat and his paint.

“Alright, Meryta. Will you be staying a while, then, or does your errand demand haste of you?”

She looks at his back and his sunburnt shoulders.

“Perhaps I will.”

Tansui bends and washes his brush in the seawater. “I am all but done here. Did you give your greetings to Rasho already, or did you seek me out first?”

Heat rises in her cheeks, and she ignores it.

“I saw you from the aetheryte plaza.”

“Walk with me then.” Tansui bends to pick up his haori, folded neatly on the dock.

“Wait!” Meryta reaches for it, stopping his hands. Tansui raises an eyebrow. She runs a gloved finger across his back, below the sun-yellow paint. “You have paint on your shoulder – you’d ruin it.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

He kneels on the dock, and scoops the seawater in his hands, splashing it across his back, missing the paint entirely.  

“You missed,” she says, already kneeling next to him, unbuckling the fastenings of her armored gloves.

“Ever ready for battle,” Tansui shakes his head and grabs a rag from his bucket, dipping it in water. Her left glove lands with a clatter beside her, and she simply takes the wet rag for his hand, and wipes it awkwardly across his back. She does not linger.

“And ever helpful,” Tansui continues, eyes sparkling.

They both get up, she holding her glove in her hand, and him shrugging on his embroidered garment. She knows exactly how soft the silk feels against her skin, and fights the urge to look away, instead holding his gaze.

Together, they walk the dock towards the beach settlement, back where she came from.

“Let me put these away,” he gestures to his paints and brushes, “and then here is the matter of the tithe, of course. You better go see Rasho as I mentioned.”

“I already paid the aetheryte fee,” she grumbles.

Tansui laughs. “That is not collected for us. And I had rather hoped you would stay a little, to catch up if you have interest.”

His smile is bright, the sun reflecting off his black and purple hair. She remembers it, unbound and spread beneath her. This time, she looks away from him.

“Let me settle the tithe, then.”

They make their way up the beach, waves crashing, idly talking of the returned Domans, the many who have joined the Confederacy – and some of their number who left, to be reunited with their family. She wonders about Tansui’s family, but she does not ask. They pass a guard standing lookout at a rock, Tansui nodding at him. There’s a dead landjelly by his feet, and no more around. She keeps her hand on her katana just in case.

“And what of the viceroy? The former viceroy. All snuck and tucked in with the Domans?”

Meryta frowns, a bitter taste on her tongue. It seems he is not aware of the details of what happened in Castrum Fluminis.

“She’s dead.”

“I sense it was not a well-considered dispersal of justice.”

“Her brother – her step brother – goaded her until she turned into a Primal. At that point there was no option but to slay her.”

Something about it feels hollow, another day, another primal, but here in the sun she doesn’t dwell on it. She tells the whole tale – how Asahi had planned this, provoking Yotsuyu until she remembered her past, smuggling crystals under the guise of a gift. How he was killed too.

“I don’t think she deserved the end she got,” she says “Or the life she lived. I – see things, with the Echo, of people’s lives and past sometimes. It’s powerful and sometimes unpleasant, and I saw how her stepparents treated her, sold her away to a brothel.”

Something passes over Tansui’s face, something she can’t quite read. Anger replaced by grief or determination.

“We all get hands dealt to us we may not like, but it’s up to us to make of it what we do. She didn’t have to hurt that many people. Perhaps it was for the best. Tell me, what do you mean – you see things of the past?”

She tries to explain as best she can, how it’s beyond her control, seemingly at random and sometimes with headaches to follow. How it made her see enough of Yotsuyu’s life to feel saddened at the way it ended.

“I wasn’t sure sparing her was the right call, initially, and glad it wasn’t my choice,” she says. “But now I’m less certain, other than it shouldn’t have ended like that. She wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“You believed her. That she lost her memory.”

She nods, as they reach a shed. Tansui unlocks it to put away his paints and Meryta follows him inside.

“I guess the choice was taken from us – but I shall tell the Captain. Had he insisted, I would have slain her if no one else had.”

She regards him, defiant chin and eyes, and she’s not going to argue. His loyalty is unquestionable, bright and simple, and she respects all that comes with it. She nods in understanding.

“For better or for worse, it’s over now.”

“Aye – and I’m glad you made it through another fight.”  Tansui smiles, and in the darkness of the shed, he raises a hand to her face, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Something undefined changes between them, alone as they are here. “You’ve cut it.”

“I wanted a change.”

“It suits you.”

His hand is still on her face, and he buries it in her hair, pulling her close and then they’re kissing. The spark of desire she’s felt every time she’s run into him since Isari, every time he’s helped; flares and bursts into flame. The kiss is gentle at first, but it quickly turns demanding, Tansui’s tongue running across her lips and she yields to him, letting him in, their tongues entangled. He backs her against the table, lifting her up. The feel of him is intoxicating, and she wants more. She can feel him harden against her, and she’s wearing far too many clothes and armor and layers. Tansui kisses her throat, running the flat of his tongue against the scales there, and he pushes closer.

A jar of brushes clashes to the floor, tin clanging and the brushes scatted on the dirt floor. She gathers herself a moment, and he’s too damn handsome as he grins sheepishly, scratching his beard.

“Stay for dinner?” he asks.

“I should have time.”

“Perhaps I can also offer a bed this time.” Tansui winks, and leaves her to follow, her cheeks heating as she straightens her collar.

--

As the sun goes down, the confederates gather at the wooden platforms up above, under the stars. Tansui brings her there, sitting with him and Rasho and others at a long table. Hearty foods are served, grilled fish and rice and miso dengaku. The conversation is lively and loud and happy. It’s not every day they share a communal meal, Tansui tells her, but it is not infrequent. It seems this week has been especially profitable, the seas rife with ships. Not to mention the gil she dropped in Rasho’s lap earlier, while Tansui made sure they made space for her at dinner. She’ll call it dinner payment and be done, no matter how indignant Tataru will be of it. It’s her own money and she doesn’t have to justify her spending.

Now, she’s talking with a Hyur woman who recently joined, a former Garlean conscript. Happy and bright-eyed, the women tells of her day on patrol. She seems excited by her new life here, free and full of hope. Meryta wonders, if she’d left home through the Ruby Seas, if she’d ever made it to Eorzea, or simply stuck here, found the life of adventure she was seeking. No need to speculate – her travels took her elsewhere and there is little point in regrets or second guessing.

Tansui laughs at something Rasho says, and her attention drifts to him, from his dark eyes to where his thigh is pressed against hers. She doesn’t regret stopping by here now either.

After dinner, everyone seems to scatter in a rush of activity – a number of people start to clear away the tables and some leave for patrol, exchanging places with those coming back grabbing bowls of still warm food. Someone opens a bottle of sake, and someone brings out a deck of Triple Triad.

“I’ve hope you’ve enjoyed our hospitality tonight,” Tansui says. “And I hope you’ll enjoy it further.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a game,” she says, tilting her head towards the cardplayers, and winks.

“Here I thought I could offer your something better, in ways of entertainment.”

“And what may that be, Tansui?”

“Mayhap a tour of the lieutenant’s quarters.” He steps into her space, crowding her, and then shrugs with feigned indifference.

“A private tour, I assume?”

“Very much so.”

“Lead the way, then,” she says and sneaks her hand into his.

--

They pull off their shoes outside his door, and step inside. It’s a simple room in the larger dwelling, a kitchen area with a small table separated from the rest by a screen. A bed, a drawer, a washbasin and a mirror. A chair with pillows and more strewn on the mat on the floor, the room bathed in warm lights.

“Well, here we are. Not much, perhaps, but it’s mine.”

“It’s lovely.”  She drops her gloves on the mat, and turns to him, and takes him in, her eyes roaming over him, his cheeky smile and his broad chest. “I’m enjoying the tour.”

Tansui steps forward and kisses her, fierce and passionate. His beard scrapes against her lips, and she opens her mouth to let him in. He pulls her close as the kiss goes on, eager as if he’s been waiting all night to do this once more. She knows she has, and wraps both hands around his neck.

After a while he pulls back, and she chases him, wanting more, already pushing his garment off his shoulders, the very same accursed ones she saw from the aetheryte earlier, making her pause her trip. His skin is warm under her hands.

“Better get those off you before you poke my eyes out,” Tansui says, hands moving to the pauldrons, and true enough, she’s overdressed and over armored. The pauldrons follow the gloves in the pile on the mat.

“I was on my way somewhere,” she says, fidgeting with her belt.

“Yet you found time,” he says, and deftly works the knots on her coat.

“I found time.”

The sashes and belts on her coat undone, Meryta places her katana next to where his lance rests against the wall in the corner. Her coat slips off her, and she’s no longer overdressed, and returns her attention to him, hungrily follows the trail of hairs from his belly down below the hem of his pants with her eyes. She wants to touch, and she does, sliding her hands down his chest, question in her eyes as she dips her hands beneath his pants. He’s half hard and she caresses him, as he nods and pulls her in for another searing kiss.

She slides his pants down his legs, and Tansui undoes her breast band, flinging it somewhere. Their hands are roaming, exploring, and he bends, his mouth on her neck, his hand on her breast. He caresses, mapping her skin under his hands, and so does she, tracing a scar on his shoulder, kissing where she can reach. A thumb teases her nipple and she whimpers, causing him to repeat.

“Gorgeous,” he says.

“Handsome,” she counters, and she kisses his chest, experimentally flicking her tongue over his nipple in turn. He lets out a low sound at that, so she does it again. His hand scramble on her back, and she wants – she wants him, and she want to taste and touch all of him.

She kisses a small scar on his sternum, white with age and almost invisible. He’s pressed hotly against her, his hardness enticing against her skin. Meryta sinks to the floor in front of him, kissing his belly, the top of his thigh, avoid his cock jutting out in front of him, tempting as it is.

“Meryta…”

“Yes?” She kisses his other thigh, and scrapes her teeth along it experimentally. His hips jerk slightly and she does it again. She looks up at him, his strong legs and solid shoulders, his handsome face above her. His eyes burn with desire, igniting her own.

“Something you wanted?”

She kisses the point of his hips, careful of the tips of her horns. His skin is soft all over, no scales to protect him. She ghosts her hand over his cock, then runs a finger up it, watching him twitch.

“Suck me,” he says, rough and demanding. She shivers and complies, engulfing the head of his cock in her mouth. She swirls her tongue around it, delighting in the groan she elicits from him.

Gripping the base of his cock with one hand, she takes him deeper, her hand preventing her from scratching her horns against his groin. His hands clench at his sides, before one strokes her cheek, the other landing awkwardly on her shoulder. She hollows her cheeks and sucks, moving her hand along with the mouth. Tansui digs his blunt nails into her shoulder, the pressure on her scales welcome. She moans around his cock, looking up at him, hopefully encouraging.

He moves his other hand along her horn to the back of her head, gentle like a question. She nods as she can, breathing through her nose and taking him a bit deeper, moving a bit faster with her hand and her mouth. Tansui groans and adds pressure on his hand. She feels hot, slickness pooling between her legs, trapped between the hand in her hair and the heaviness of his cock in her mouth. He pushes into her, moving his hips in a even rhythm, not forcing himself into her but holding her steady. Her own need grows with his loss of composure, with every thrust he makes into her mouth. Her cunt clenches and throbs, wanting him to lose himself in her.

“Meryta, I…” He gaps and tugs on her hair until she lets up, reluctantly letting him slip out of her mouth. She looks up at him, tall above her, his eyes glassy and breath coming in pants. He must be close, the salty taste of him on her tongue and she wants to continue, to swallow him down and have him come in her mouth, but she waits.

Tansui takes a breath and smiles down at her, caressing her cheek.

“There was something about a bed, I believe. I want you in it.”

She’s not opposed, not at all, the thought of being close to him excites her too, feeling all of him above or beneath her. She gets up and he kisses her, hungry and openmouthed and without restraint. She groans into his mouth or maybe he does, his hips stuttering. Arms sliding down to her ass, he lifts her and carries her to the bed, three steps across the small room.

He sets her on the colorful bedspread, running her hand down her torso, pushing her back. She falls willingly. Following, he caresses her breasts and she arches off the bed when he rolls both her nipples between his hands. Back in control of himself, he observes her, how she moans and gasps – his name too, which makes him grin. She files that away for later. He drags his hand down belly, pressing into her scales. She wants more, she wants him closer, and she’s tired of waiting, already so slick and wanting from sucking his dick. She pulls him down over her, but he resists and she relents.

“Eager,” he says, and runs a single finger down to her slit, to her wetness. She’s not ashamed of wanting, and barely stops herself from grabbing his hand and pressing it closer, harder. He has something in mind it seems, so she watches him, nodding and canting her hips.  

“Turn around,” he says, a bit fast and hoarse, and perhaps she’s not the only eager one. “Please.”

Scooting a bit up the bed she does, getting on her hands and knees, tail lifted. She wants him to see what he’s done to her. One of his hands finds her tail and she hisses in pleasure when he wraps his hand around it, when he presses his fingers against the base. It’s almost too much and she wants more. She wants to tell him, pull it, harder, but when she opens her mouth all she gets out is a gasp as his other hand wanders across her ass and he slides one finger into her.

“So wet,” he mumbles, and she slides her legs outwards and pushes back against him. She’s rewarded with another finger inside of her. It’s not enough.

“More. I need. I need you inside of me, Tansui.” She looks back over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of his handsome face, jaw slack and mouth half open. “Please, Tansui.”

“Since you ask so nicely,” he pants and he obliges, his cock pushing her lips apart, entering her wanting cunt slowly and gently. Much bigger than two fingers, it stretches with a pleasant burn and a moan tears from her mouth. She pushes against him, wanting to feel him, all of him, now.

“Meryta!” Tansui gasps, digging one hand into her ass, scrambling for a semblance of control. He holds her still, both hands on her hips. She wants to force him to move, but with a shallow breath she lets him have control, settling for an embarrassingly impatient whine in her throat, a flick of her tail across his body.

He fucks her, frustratingly slow at first, a measured, almost lazy pace that makes her ache for more. Letting him do so brings its own appeal, every single part of her body focused on him, her want climbing with every stroke until she is almost shaking.

Once Tansui realizes she’s letting him do what he wants, he releases the bruising grip on her hip, a short-lived disappointment when he grips her tail, his hand once again wrapping around the base of it. He tugs on it, pulling her back on his cock now, speeding up a little. Like this, she can’t reach him or tease him, she has to let him fuck her however he wants, and it leaves her desperate and quivering.

“Like that, do you?”

“Yesss, more, you can… more, I’m —"

He understands her, and grasps firmer, pulls harder, slamming into her. He grunts and increases the pace, but he doesn’t lose his control. She’s tethering on the brink as pleasure washes over her, a burning need for her climax that’s just out of reach.

“You feel so good,” he says, and he strokes her tail. She can’t help to push back now, gasping when he changes the angle of his thrusts.

“Tansui, I need –”

He likes his name on his lips, and she will say it as many times as she must.

“What do you need, Meryta. Say it.” He pulls on her tail again, and slams into her.

“I need you to touch me, please, Tansui!”

“Very good.”

He leans forward over her, covering her and reaches around her. His hand finds her clit, uncoordinated and messy but it’s good, pressure where she needs it. She collapses forward and he follows, kissing her neck, teeth scarping over her scales. He uses his new leverage to thrust harder, faster, his hand moving over her slippery clit, and she screams his name as she tumbles over her crest, her orgasm striking her when he bites down on her shoulder.

Tansui grunts and snaps his hips and shudders above her, his own climax fueled by hers as she still rides the waves pleasure. He falls completely on top of her, kissing her neck as she stretches out under him. He’s heavy and pleasant on top of her, his arms trapped beneath her. She doesn’t want to move, and she doesn’t know why she should.

Eventually, he rolls off her and they clean up and he returns to his bed to lie next to her. Their legs entangled he throws an arm across her, and they lie in silence for a while, enjoying the nearness of each other. She feels achy and tired in the best way, and almost ready to drift off to sleep, when she hears people – laughter, and someone beating at a table perhaps – from below them. She thinks of the tall wooden structure, dotted with doors. Living quarters for many of the pirates, all sharing walls.  

“I fear your comrades may have heard us. I’m sorry.”

“Us? You mean when you were screaming my name from the top of your lungs?”

Her cheeks heat furiously, and Tansui laughs. “I do not mind. It is hardly the first time I’ve had someone do that here.”

“Bragging, are you now?”

He just smirks at her and kisses her soundly.

“Do you mind, Meryta? That they know you’re here?”

She thinks on it for a moment. She likes the people here, when they’ve passed through, and how they’ve helped her and the scions and Doma, and she’s helped them. But she does not need them to put her on a pedestal, and she does not need to keep any secrets. There are no political implications of their second in command fucking her out of her mind. And she does not mind Tansui’s posturing; not when he leaves her boneless and satisfied.

“No. I don’t.”

They fall silent and shuffle, tired of her tail trapped under her she turns to her side and wraps it round his hip. Tansui runs his hand across her back, caressing her scales there, now idly wandering up and around and he pulls her a little closer. She yawns, glad that his pillows are soft enough for her horns to sink into.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, kissing her shoulder. “I suppose it’s my turn to apologize.”

“Whatever for?” she says, half asleep and wondering why he’s apologizing for his pillows.

He traces her shoulder, lightly brushing her scales. There’s a light soreness, she’d barely have noticed was it not for his attention. Ah. The bite.

“Mayhap I should have asked. It’s the kind of thing that is polite to ask for.”

She turns around and looks at him.

“You don’t strike me as overly polite in the first place – not to your neighbors either.”

He chuckles, and does look contrite.

“Ah, but –”

“I didn’t mind.” She’s never had a lover that was quite so forceful, so intense, and yet he understood what she needed. Taking care of her. “I liked it.”

“I shall keep that in mind, then.”  

His gaze is fixed at where he bit her, and she wonders if he likes leaving a mark, like he likes to hear his name spilled in passion. Suitable, somehow, that he should take what’s due, though she’d hardly call him selfish.

“That confident I’ll be back again?”

He seems to falter a moment, a slight blush on his cheeks, before giving a confident smirk.

“You did just scream loud enough to wake my neighbors, so perhaps it’s not too presumptuous.”

“It was all but happenstance I came by at this time,” Meryta says and smiles. She does not want him to feel too self-assured, even if warranted.  “A favorable one.”

“I’ll ask no promises from you, but perhaps another errand will take you here - violence in its wake or not.”

“Must you always say so?”

“You came into my life in strife and blood. Not that I’m unhappy you’re here.”

She frowns. He has the right of it, in a way, but it also does not feel entirely fair.

“I don’t bring it. I’ll go where the strife is. Where I’m – needed. I wish it wasn’t so.”

He nods and runs a hand over her cheek.

“Well - I’ll be torn then, to have you needed here.”

There’s something soft in his eyes and an undefined feeling rises in her chest. She ignores it.

“You never know – perhaps I’ll catch a break.”

“Glad I would be of that,” he says, brushing a lock of her hair away from her face.

She has nothing to say to that, hope and worry for Alphinaud gnawing in her gut, along with the possibility of an Ascian walking in Zenos’ skin. Hopefully Alphinaud will arrive safely and untangle the mystery and Thancred will bring them news. For now, she settles into his arms, content to let her worries fade as she slips into sleep.

--

She wakes early, the sun filtering through a curtain. Are there even windowpanes? She wonders just how many people heard her last night. No matter. She needs to get going, Genbu has waited long enough, so she slides from the bed to find her clothes, her armor. Tansui mumbles something, and looks at her bleary eyed.

“I need to go,” she says, biting her lips.

“Your important errand, I see.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

He waves his hand. “No need. I assume it will let us all safely conduct our operations, and not bring doom on the waters.”

“That’s the hope,” she says. “It’ll be fine.”

The light falls across Tansui, half covered by his blankets. Sleepy eyes regard her.

“Last night was fun.” She reaches to touch him, a hand on his cheek. “Thank you.”

He kisses her hand, stretches, and sits up to kiss her on her mouth.

“That it was. I should thank you.”

 “A mutual benefit.” She winks, and grabs her armguards, buckling them, and gets her katana. She looks at his well-worn lance next to it. There’s a notch on the blade. Someone should fix that.

“Take care you there, Tansui, on the waters.”

“You too, Meryta.”

She slips out the door.

[keicordelle]

Many Kinds of Magic

Fandom: FFXIV Rating: E Pairing: Estimeric Word Count: 6.2k Tags: Established Relationship, Snowball Fight, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Body Image, Body Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Consent, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, POV First Person, POV Aymeric de Borel

Summary: There are as many kinds of magic as there are moments - from the childhood whimsy of a snowball launched at the back of your friend's head, to the quiet reverence of soothing your lover's insecurities with whispered words of worship, and Aymeric and Estinien delight in each and every one they get to spend together. After all, the only thing better than an afternoon spent hurling snowballs at your best friend and lover is getting to warm him up in front of a fire afterwards - even if it means asking a nosy friend for the use of his quarters.

-

The gentle snow fell not in flakes but in great wet blobs, splatting against my head and shoulders. I shook clumps from my hair, reaching to brush wetness from my ears before it could melt and worm its way into my skin. The cold seemed less bitter than usual, surrounded by thick drifts of white as we made our way back from the Observatory, the biting winds so common to Coerthas calm for once. Even so, my cheeks were pink with the cold, and tips of my ears and the ends of my fingers prickling with frigid heat.

The snow brought with it a hush that muted even our own footsteps, making the world seem close and quiet in the way of early holiday mornings and evening church sermons. The very air seemed filled with a magic and reverence so thick you could touch it, and despite all the hardships that lay both behind and before us, for the moment at least, it soothed my soul with its unheard resonance.

"Estinien, I-"

Thwack!

Impact against the back of my head left me momentarily stunned, wetness seeping from my hair down into my collar, its cold trails down my neck making me shiver. Brushing snow from my hair, I twisted to find Estinien not at my side, like I'd thought he was, but several paces back, guilty look on his face and still in a throwing stance.

"Sorry. I was aiming for your back," he said with an apologetic wince, and I couldn't help but burst out laughing, the joyous sound breaking the quiet stillness. Estinien relaxed from his crouch, the harsh lines of his face easing into a childlike mirth that sent a wholesome warmth skittering through my heart.

"You'll pay for that!" I warned him, stooping to scoop up a handful of snow and form it into a snowball of my own. His eyes widened in delight, and the laugh that escaped him was nothing short of a giggle as I wound up and hurled it at him. He raised his arms to ward off the blow, the ball splattering harmlessly against his forearms to pelt his face and chest with cold wetness.

I was scooping up more snow before he had a chance to react, my second strike slamming into his hip, and even from twenty fulms away I could see the glitter in his eyes, laugh lines carving a kinder visage than the stoic grimace he so often bore. The deep rumble of his joy twined with my own gleeful laughter, a harmony that made my soul dance, and there was a magic in that, too, in the playfulness of two souls in this brief reprieve from the passage of time, free from whatever troubles lay before and behind us for just this one moment.

The splatter of snow against my shoulder heralded Estinien's reprisal, and the shriek that escaped me seemed to teleport me twenty years back in time, the squeal of a boy frolicking with his friend in the winter rime. I darted to the side and his next throw went wide as I dodged through the mounting drifts at my feet and the fat flakes that floated around us, scooping up handfuls of snow as I went. We hurled barely-formed snowballs and playful taunts at each other, slipping across the slick ground until we came crashing down together into the snow, breathless as much from laughter as from our bout, my cheeks sore not just from the cold but from the strength of my smile. Wetness seeped into my clothes and dripped into my boots, but I paid it no mind, the sodden chill and the numbness in my fingers merely trophies of our merriment.

We rolled together through the powder, tussling and shoving snow down each other's clothes until I managed to pin him beneath me, shivers wracking us both and our chests heaving as we fought to catch our breath. Melted snow drenched our hair and dripped from my chin to splash against Estinien's cheek, the flakes that still fell around us providing the same lazy backdrop that protected us from the real world. My eyes slid to his parted lips, thin and pale and curled up in the corners, and before I had quite made up my mind to move, I found myself leaning in to kiss them. They were just as cold as they looked, the brush of his nose against my cheek drawing a shudder from me, but a little chill was not enough to detract from the feeling of his mouth moving on mine, his hands rising to fist in the back of my jacket and hold me to him.

-

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[headcanons-n-shit]

Okay but if you havent read this yet (my most recent fanfic its smut its just smut really) go do that so this thought makes more sense but like

Okay Ash'a is one of my alts (i pay for the good subscription i can do what i want) and i was running around on him today like hehe haha min height catboy things and

Did you know min height moon catboys are only BARELY taller than the conjurer quest giver? Yeah. Its great. I stood next to one of my friends for comparison, Ash'a doesnt come up to the bottom of Daidukuls chest, he comes up to like. Daidukuls snatched little waist.

Its great im going absolutely rabid

[ectojyunk]

A little interlude for the events after chapter 6~

Decided to have lil non-plot relevant chapters like this from time to time. Eases up the pressure for the long chapters :')

Arth and Gwen belong to my FC buddy @vampyrofswords

[yzeltia]

Wolgraha Week

Day 5: Comfort Characters: Keith Summers, G'raha Tia Rating: Explicit Notes: CW Sex

“Raha. Raha, wake up,” Keith cooed, gently stroking his cheek as the Miqo’te violently thrashed in his sleep.

“No, I’ve been…I’ve,” G’raha panted, slowly coming out of his dream, feeling his love carefully stroke over his ears, “Keith! I’ve been shot! I need…I need…”

“It’s okay. You’ve not been shot. You’re in bed with me.”

Kieth lifted the other’s hand then placed it on his chest, giving it a little rub so that G’raha could feel his unblemished chest.  The Miqo’te laced his fingers with his boyfriend’s, shaking as he came down off the adrenaline racing through him from the dream. With a whine, the Scion turned to press his face against Keith’s chest, nuzzling lightly as he took breaths to calm down.

“So I am. The dreams, they feel so real…Like I am back in that body…everything feels so stiff.”

Keith hummed then leaned in, kissing the other cheek.

“No crystal here…or here,” he whispered, moving down to the other’s neck.

G’raha rolled onto his back, letting Keith toss their blanket off them as he trailed kisses lower, each one sending a rush of warmth through the Miqo’te, assuring him that he was all flesh and blood. His leg lifted up on Keith’s shoulder, he shivered then closed his eyes.

“I think you’ve made your point.”

“I’ve only just begun to make a point,” Keith chuckled, kissing the bottom of Miqo’te’s foot.

“None of that or you can go back to your own room,” G’raha huffed, ears folding back shly as his Hyur gave a little nip at his ankle.

“You would just grow restless and come after me.”

Keith leaned forward, cheeks red as he let his length graze over the top of G’raha’s, folding the other’s leg around his waist. The Seeker reached up, pulling the other on top of him as he raised his hips to greet him in full. “I am unsure how I feel that you’ve gone from babbling nervously at the mere mention of physical intimacy and now you fancy yourself an irresistible loverrr.”

Keith moaned softly, kissing up his lover’s chest as his hand slid down the other’s thigh and onto his ass, giving it a firm squeeze, “Am I not? I was trained to be by a rather enthusiastic teacher. A Scion of the Seventh Dawn no less.”

“Your attempts at flattering me are best spent focused elsewhere,” G’raha said, tilting the other’s chin to face him.

“You? I was talking about Archon Y'shtola,” Keith teased, grinning wide before leaning in for a kiss before being stopped by the other’s palm.

“Y-You are not funny! Not in the slightest Keith!”

“I’m a little funny,” the Hyur said under the palm as he shifted his hips, letting his length run down G’raha’s thigh and the flick upward beneath the Seeker’s orbs, “And I think I’ve provided ample distraction, Raha.”

The Scion flushed, feeling the other lift his hips and start to nudge against his entrance. “So you have…Though, maybe you should ground me further then.”

Keith nodded, shifting so that he might angle himself properly before feeling the warmth of the Miqo’te engulf him as he pressed forward. A moan escaped the Hyur as he lowered back down on top of G’raha, rolling his ships in shallow circles as he watched his partner’s face shift from strain to pleasure. Shaking, the Scion’s arms reached around him and pulled him down to bite on his neck.

“Careful,” Keith whined, “Remember how much we were teased the last time you left marks.”

“Let us be teased then.”

Keith groaned as he felt the other’s fangs move and dig back into his shoulder. He started to thrust absently, earning little whines out of the nibbling Miqo’te. A shudder escaped him as he felt run down his chest and drip onto the Scion. Heat spread through his body as the other tightened around him. G’raha’s bite lowered, fangs digging into the man’s clavicle as their bodies rocked together as he squeezed the other within him.

“Raha-ha…wait. No fair…I’ll…” Keith panted before pushing the other’s head back, kissing his love hard as his hand snaked down to grip the Miqo’te’s dripping length.

G’raha smirked in the kiss, lifting his other leg to wrap himself tight around Keith’s waist, gyrating around his cock while thrusting into his hand. He gave a playful bite to the Hyru’s lip, feeling the man flex within him in response. Growling, Keith rolled them over, laying on his back forcing the Miqo’te to unhook his legs and sit back on him. The Scion on top, he cried out, Keith angled now into his sweet spot.

“Now who isn’t playing fair,” the Miqo’te moaned out, tail raising as he bounced steadily while thrusting into Keith’s palm.

Keith chuckled as he caught his breath, free hand on the Scion’s thigh, digging the pads of his finger into his flesh before reaching up to lightly tweak at his love’s nipple. G’raha cried out in response, sitting firmly down on the Hyur’s length before tensing up as he was sent over the edge, painting Keith’s stomach and chest.

G’raha tensed up around him, Keith too came soon after, heels digging into the bed as he lifted the Miqo’te on his lap. Covered in the Miqo’te’s mess, he patted at his stomach then looked up to the flustered Scion. “All this ‘cause of me?”

“Shush,” G’raha ordered, tail thrashing as he crossed his arms and pouted, “Yourrr attempt to comforrrt me is appreciated but I’ve said many times that we need to be morrre preparrred. The bed is now a mess and I’m all wound up. By the time we clean ourselves and change I’ll be rrroused awake and then hungry. You’ll of course fall asleep with ease and when I go to wake you’ll be grrrumpy. Then-”

“How about this,” Keith interrupted, moving to the edge of his bed before standing with the Miqo’te in his arms, “Purr-haps we wash off and go to the purr-fectly unused bed in my cham-purrs.

“Enough mocking,” G’raha huffed before kissing the other as Keith walked them outside and around the corner, “That will be amenable though…Maybe we should think about finding a largerrr sweet in the Annex to sharrrre.”

“Sounds purr-fect.”

[nyyyxmidnight]

New (Old?) Fic Completed!

Long time no see! Lost of things have been happening and are still happening in my life, not the least of which was buying a house! Despite that, I slowly managed to finish the second chapter of my bisexual Aymeric de Borel/Asexual Estinien "Wyrmblood" Varlineau fanfiction. This brings that specific story to a close, so hurray!

Final Fantasy XIV, Aymeric/Estinien, Rated E(xplicit), 3,110 words

Take My Breath Away (But Not Like This) Chapter 2

No spoilers, Temple Knights era, pining idiots, hand jobs, frottage, sex-neutral asexual (Estinien)

The link above will take you directly to the new chapter. If you'd prefer starting from the beginning, use think link: Take My Breath Away (But Not Like This) Chapter 1

I still intend to finish the Piers/Raihan pokemon fic series Showtime My Love! There are 2 more fics fully planned, and one of those is already half-written. I will do my best to not let these take a whole year each to write, orz

As always, thanks for reading!

[amoebaforce]

Heya! I've been really enjoying your writing and wanted to ask for some hc of wol x thancred x emet selch. I just think those two hate each other so much but you can't make me choose only ONE. Have a nice day btw :).

this is possibly the funniest trio you could have asked for, and i thank you for it, anon! this was fun to write (though i did come to the realization that there's almost NO gifs of these two together!!).

fluff at first, but things get spicy under the cut :)

pairing: Thancred Waters x gn!WoL x Emet-Selch tags: fluff, established relationship, polyamory, bickering, a little jealousy perhaps, NSFW (mdni), threesome, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, begging

The WoL is inevitably sandwiched between their partners every morning. Usually, Thancred’s playing big spoon on one side, while Emet-Selch’s sprawling limbs encroach from the other. Thancred sleepily swats at the Ascian’s hands when they loll toward him, as if warding a fly away. When Emet wakes to the sensation, he grumbles something about “hogging” and rolls closer on purpose.

You won’t hear the WoL complaining, though. There are much worse ways to emerge from a slumber, and the men are pleasant alarms, letting their lips and hands glide over the Warrior’s skin until all three are wide awake.

Yes, the WoL savors these slow, easy mornings, mostly because they seem to be the only moments in which their boyfriends aren’t actively bickering.

There is a subtle but ever-present air of competition between Thancred and Emet. They don’t outright fight over the Warrior — they’re both content enough to share — but they do try to outdo each other sometimes. 

If Thancred holds a door, Emet rushes to hold the next one. If Emet takes the trio on a trip, Thancred pays for every dinner. And of course, they’re quipping and japing at each other the whole time.

“See, darling, I told you the beach would be nice this time of year,” Emet hums to the Warrior. “Beaches are always nice in the summer, bell-end,” Thancred says from behind his sunglasses. Later, when Thancred falls asleep sunbathing, Emet uses sunscreen to draw a dick on his chest.

And, of course, their competition can’t help but spill over into the bedroom. They never sleep with the WoL individually — always together, and always with some kind of game happening between them.

Emet likes to use the Warrior’s mouth while Thancred fucks them from behind. The Ascian coos delicious little encouragements at both of them, trying to push Thancred into coming first.

“Doesn’t our beloved look so sweet like this?” Emet asks, hands fisted in the WoL’s hair. “Drooling and cock-drunk. Did you know their eyes roll back when you’re hilted?”

The WoL proves Emet right as Thancred groans and buries himself inside them. “Not fair,” Thancred grits out. “You’re making them clench up.” Emet laughs and purposefully gags the Warrior on his cock, sending a jolt to their core that makes them clench even harder. Thancred swears as he loses control and releases so hard his legs shake.

But Thancred has his own tricks, too. He knows Emet loves it when the Warrior begs, and he plays accordingly. When Emet is the one hilt-deep inside them, Thancred is a brutal tease.

He’ll kneel before their face and stroke himself slowly, letting the Warrior see his arousal drip. When they whine impatiently, licking their lips, Thancred merely smiles and cups their face in one calloused hand. “What was that, baby?” he asks. “If you want something, you have to ask properly.”

“Please,” the WoL keens. “Please, please, please let me taste you!” Emet shudders, hands tightening on their hips as he pumps into them. Thancred hums, as if considering his answer, but he’s really watching a vein protrude on the Ascian’s temple. He shrugs and looks back to the Warrior. “I don’t know, baby — do you deserve it?” he presses.

The WoL dissolves into babbles. “Yes, yes, please-please-please–” It’s too much for Emet. He growls out a warning, and Thancred knows he’s won this round. He finally relents, slipping his cock into the Warrior’s mouth as the Ascian slams his hips against theirs. Emet’s brutal pace stutters as he unravels, spilling until his spend is leaking down the Warrior’s thighs.

Thancred snickers as Emet pants through his aftershocks. “What a mess you’ve made. Would you like to switch, Emet, so our darling can clean you off?”