#emet-selch x reader

[agent-cupcake]

Diplomacy

Here is another for my pitiful Kinktober! I meant to put this out faster, whoops. The next one is Zenos+cockwarming. I'll try to get the others out too but who is to say.

Pairing: Solus zos Galvus/Emet-Selch x f!princess Reader Kink: Vibrators/Overstimulation Tags: Explicit, dub/non con, bondage, Word Count: 2.6k

A while back I mentioned Emperor Solus taking advantage of a poor foreign princess for strictly diplomatic purposes.

Gifts, he told you, were an important part of diplomacy. He said things like that a lot. Lessons. His Radiance Solus zos Galvus, the Emperor of Garlemald, taught you a lot of lessons. The most important had been that a princess shouldn’t ever trust the charm of a foreign ruler, and even the most innocent of feelings could easily be twisted and used, and that inequality would never result in cooperation, and that you were a fool for believing a single word out of his mouth. There were others though, so many things of which you were ignorant. Late at night, when he appeared in your private chambers like an evil spirit, when he took advantage of impulses you didn’t know how to control, when he abused the dominion he’d so easily claimed over your ruined body, he taught you many things.

“This color suits you far better than the drab dresses you have been favoring as of late,” Solus mused, tugging the neckline of your silky candy-colored nightgown down a little further. Just enough to expose your nipples, to further prod at your indecency. You squirmed, but with your hands bound, there wasn’t anything you could do. “Mayhap you believe darker hues will assert your maturity. I assure you, my dear, nobody will take you seriously either way.” 

“Don’t,” you said, looking away in embarrassment. It didn’t matter if you hid your face, your body was on full display, bound flat on the bed without any underwear, your nightgown hiked up around your waist. Solus wasn’t undressed, another assertion of his control. 

“It was a compliment. If you were smarter, you would realize how to use that perception to your advantage.”

“I don’t… I don’t need your advice.” 

“You ought to be grateful that I’m wasting so much time on such a silly little creature like you. Time, energy, and resources.” He sighed. “Never mind about that. I brought you a gift.” He held up the strange device. Your present. Its design was unfamiliar, although it looked to be fueled by magitek, the handle glowing with bluish energy. “This clever little tool was originally of Allagan design. To relax overworked muscles. Of course, it wasn’t long before perverted minds found other applications for it. A fitting gift for the virgin princess, I think. Especially when you have been such a dear friend of Garlemald.”

“What does it do?” you asked, ignoring his barbed remarks to focus on the device. It didn’t look like much, a handle with a bulbous head a little smaller than your fist. The magitek part was what worried you. Garlean weapons didn’t always look like much, it was the Ceruleum that made them dangerous. Solus didn’t often hurt you, but he could. He had. All you had to do to remind yourself of that was look down at the pale, raised imprint of Garlean chains branded on the flesh above your womb. 

“Are you afraid, princess?” Solus asked. “Why might that be? You know very well I would only hurt you if you were deserving.”  His hand dropped, one long finger tracing the chain link. It was the permanent reminder of your attempt at defiance. Back before you realized that Garlemald didn’t have allies, they had acquired territory. “Have you done aught to earn my ire?” 

“No,” you said quickly, loudly, shaking your head. “I haven’t—I wouldn’t.” 

Solus smiled. “Then you needn’t be afraid.” He pressed a button on the handle, and the device’s bulbous head began to vibrate with enough intensity that it seemed to blur, filling the room with a low hum. He pressed it against his hand. Gods above, it sounded aggressive, not unlike the engines on their infernal vehicles. 

Without any sort of warning, Solus pressed the large, vibrating head right between your legs. A fraction of a second passed before the sensation registered, it was just that foreign to your nervous system. And then it hit, and the feeling was that of hot, horrible fire. Every single nerve ending blazing with the agonizing heat of very abrupt and very mean overstimulation. 

“No-ooh—no! Stop-stop it!” you squealed, your hips twisting in all directions to get away. Your violent reaction caused the ropes binding you to the four corners of the bed to snap taut, the sheets dragging off of the mattress to form a wrinkled pile beneath you, and the wooden bed posts to loudly protest. 

Despite that, Solus added more pressure, pushing it past your labia and to the far more sensitive flesh beneath. You screamed. You couldn’t help it, you screamed like an animal would, in a way that would make your throat hurt later. He leaned forward to clap his hand over your open mouth, stifling your wailing. Holding you down.

“Hush now, my dear. They might begin to suspect that you’re not as pure as they believe you to be,” he said, his voice low and intimately close to your ear. Now that he was so close, he was all you could smell. Leather and cold air and a sharp woody scent. You didn’t care that someone could hear, if anything that just made you scream louder. You needed it to stop, you couldn’t handle even a second more of this torment. He huffed, rolling his eyes impatiently. “Do you think I might begin to pity you? Now? Well, rest assured that I won’t. I’ve given you a unique gift. Be grateful.” 

He paused, waiting for the response you couldn’t give, not budging even as you bucked up against him. That was involuntary, you were physically unable to keep your body from convulsing. But you did stop screaming, hoping that it would make Solus relent. His expression softened. 

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” Solus cooed, saccharinely sweet. “Now do the only thing you’ve shown even the slightest hint of aptitude for and come for me.” 

With that command ringing in your ears, he sat up to watch, his hand still firmly clasped over your mouth and the toy painfully pressed against your vulva. 

The order terrified you. That was impossible, you absolutely couldn’t. You pulled at your bound arms and legs with all your might, desperate to get away, but the ropes had no give, you were more likely to hurt yourself than you were to escape. And the harder you struggled, the more you ground against the thing. All you could do was wail into his hand, tears squeezing out of the corners of your closed eyes, your body impossibly taut, drawn in an arc between the ropes and his hand.

“I’ll wait. I do so enjoy watching you like this, writhing and struggling against the inevitability of my will. Take as long as you need, my dear.” 

You couldn’t. If you came, it would hurt. Then again, if you didn’t, it would hurt more. He couldn’t hear your pleas, so you tried to beg with your teary eyes. You couldn’t do as he asked. It hurt and you couldn’t, he had to realize that, he had to understand, he had to. It hurt, and even if there was a stirring sort of pleasure within the bombardment of sharp, agonizing heat, you couldn’t do anything with it. 

Solus met your pleading gaze. He didn’t care. Amusement shone bright in those pale eyes, twisting his lips up into a familiar smile. It wasn’t like what you imagined with other men. Pity or sympathy was useless against most of them, but Solus couldn’t be manipulated through his desire either. Self control—or maybe it was more accurate to call it sadism—kept him from ever wavering no matter how long it took to force your compliance. You would obey, or you would suffer. He would wait. There wasn’t actually a decision for you to make, just the painful fulfillment of Solus’ merciless order. Obey now, or obey later. 

As soon as you gave in, closing your eyes to try and cling to the pleasure within the overwhelming heat, he moved the vibrating head just a little bit to the side, your swollen clit rolling with it, providing a new point of stimulation. It hurt just like everything else, an endless fury of too much, of hellfire. Gods, you nearly blacked out at the excruciating intensity of it. But it worked. You didn’t even have the time to brace yourself before you were coming. It was, like everything else, a painful, sticky, hot, wretched orgasm. Your body locked up like you were having a fit and you twitched and trembled and drooled and cried your way through it, unsure if the cresting pleasure was even good or if you were just twisted enough to interpret pain in the same way as long as it targeted the same parts, as long as it was at Solus zos Galvus’ command.

When you were done, returning to the weeping, whining excess of torturous overstimulation, Solus removed the thing from between your legs and his hand from your mouth. He finally turned it off and, in the absence of the hornet’s nest buzz, your ears rang. You barely reacted when he wiped off his hand, slick with your saliva, on the bunched up material of your nightgown. 

“You will forgive me,” Solus said. He didn’t bother to hide his amusement as he dragged two fingers between your labia. The overstimulation was too much, you almost saw white, crying and shaking. But then he sunk two fingers into your pussy, and you were beyond wet enough to make it smooth, and all you could do was choke back a confused moan. It hadn’t felt good, but you had come, and one was never enough. Was that something he had taught you, or were you predisposed to being so depraved? “You will, won’t you? As long as I let you come again, you’ll forgive anything.” 

“No,” you moaned hoarsely, trying to squirm away. For all the good that did. He curled his fingers as they dragged out and your mouth fell open wordlessly, any further rejections poofing away like smoke. 

“No? It is a wonder that word remains in your vocabulary, considering how worthless it has become.” 

You sniffed, knowing better than to rise to his petty bait. “Are you done? With that… that thing.”

“Are you so eager for more?” 

“No! No, I can’t, no, I-” You didn’t finish your babbling denial, his fingers driving deep into your pussy with a harsher thrust. “Please. Not again, it… it hurts.”

“Begging is unbecoming of a princess,” Solus chided you. “If you truly want me to stop, you do not beg. You offer something of equal value in return.” 

“What?” you asked, more than a little distracted by the fingers that hadn’t stopped pumping in and out of you with terribly slick sounds, moving too slowly to provide any substantial friction yet just fast enough to keep you on edge. You were still jerking in random bursts from the aftershock pain of overstimulation. 

“Have you learned nothing about the art of negotiation?” Solus asked, his fingers snapping forward in a way that made your entire body jolt, made you whimper. “Mayhap I wasted my time trying to educate you.”

“I… I do, I know,” you exhaled shakingly, trying to ignore his fingers. “I don’t want that… again… and… And you want… Something. Please, I’ll do anything you ask—whatever you want.”

“I want to watch you come over and over. Until you’re reduced to nothing more than a dripping, trembling mess,” Solus said, emphasizing his words with sharp thrusts, his fingers curling in a way that had you keening. “So you see the problem with your pleas, pathetic and heartfelt as they are. Our wants are not compatible.” He hesitated, considering that. “If you had been smarter in the first place, we might have reached this point of disagreement on equal footing and found a middle ground that would suit us both. Unfortunately, you’ve put yourself in a terribly disadvantageous position. You’ve no power to stop me, and nothing to barter with.” 

“It’s-ss not my fault,” you told him, too wrung out and frightened to argue with his cruel interpretation. “You’re the one who-”

“Me?” he demanded incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “You think this is my fault?” 

It was. Everything was his fault, the results of his meticulous manipulations. But you didn’t dare say that, not when his eyes were narrowed so dangerously. 

“I thought so. Your decisions are what put you in this position,” Solus told you. “You’ve nobody but yourself to blame.” With that, he pulled his fingers out of you entirely, picking up the toy from where he’d left it on the sheets. “We’ll try a lower setting to start with, hm?” 

“Nn-no, Your Radiance, please,” you begged, pulling at your legs. You’d have bruises where the rope was cutting into them. He turned the thing on, filling the room with its loud, low hum. “Please, you don’t understand, I can’t… Please, it hurts, please don’t-” When he pressed it directly against your vulva, the vibrations didn’t hurt and burn like before, but it still made your body jerk against the ropes. The bedframe creaked unhappily, matching your own broken cry.

Already you were trembling, the vibrator made it worse. And still, now that it was lower, now that you could differentiate the sensations, now that it wasn’t as furious and intense, you could feel the stirrings of genuine pleasure, hot and twisted in your gut. The low buzzing hum was more insistent than simple friction. There wasn’t any place from which you could draw to know if it was good or bad, not after earlier, but you moaned. And then whined. It was impossible to help. Without his fingers you felt empty, and the excessive stimulation only exacerbated that hollow, anxious sensation.

“That’s much better, isn’t it?” Solus asked, smiling as he looked down at you. 

All you could give as an answer was a panicked sort of whine because it was better. A lot, lot better. Good enough to have saliva pooling on your tongue, and your muscles all pulling tense despite your best attempts to relax them. Good enough to make it hard to breathe, especially because he was watching, entertained by the pitiful show. You wondered, even with your head full of lustful fog you wondered, how you had missed the cruelty in his delight for so long, back when you believed him to be a good and noble man. The darkness in his eyes as they watched you squirm and whine, helpless to the pleasurable vibrating, seemed so obvious now. It was his fault, you knew that. But it was also your fault, your mistake, the lesson you couldn’t seem to learn. It didn’t matter that you knew he was cruel, or that he had and would hurt you, or that he was using you. You were going to come anyway, your body was already tightening up, your brain on fire from the unfamiliar stimulation, unable to focus on anything else. 

Solus rubbed your thigh, his large hand gentle and strong and warm, almost soothing. You whimpered, that small act of affection feeding the ravenous need in your core. “Solus…” His name wasn’t what you meant to say, to moan. You meant to tell him no, or stop, or don’t, or I can’t, but it was all, just like he said, worthless. Empty words to try and hide the fact that you were moaning, shaking, coming, giving him exactly what he wanted. Just like always. 

“Insatiable as you are,” he said as you tried to collect yourself—an impossibility when you were given no reprieve from the relentless vibrations. “I suspect the first dozen will feel quite good. After that, however…” Solus sucked in a breath through his teeth, shrugging theatrically. “I doubt it will be so enjoyable. For you, at least.” 

#solus zos galvus #emet-selch #solus zos galvus x reader #emet-selch x reader #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #my writing #not sfw #tw.noncon

[owlespresso]

it was hard to pick just one but ❤️ for emet-selch, please!

❤️ - what's their favorite way to be intimate (can be non-sexual)?

It is not enough to have you in his arms and underneath his body. Emet-Selch must come to know you intimately. In every way, shape and form. He wants to know your every thought and passion, wants to know what you love and what you hate, and why. He reads the books you do, idly evaluating every chapter and bringing his thoughts to you later. Delving into character motive and storywide themes is a way to delve into your psyche without being too blatant about it.

As a man of incredible sophistication, it is only right he deigns to share some of himself with you, as well. He brings you to exclusive wine tastings for just the two of you, secluded in some dim lounge covered in velvet and silk. He makes recommendations and gently lips the glass to your lips for you, watching with hooded eyes as they part around the rim. The wine rolls down your lips, an easy excuse for him to lean forward and kiss the excess off of you. And kiss you a second time, just to be sure. Maybe a third, as he rests the glass on the table and gently urges you down onto the chaise. 

#emet-selch x reader #emet selch/reader #fathoming ffxiv

[bakubunny]

“shh, don’t let anyone hear you sweetie,” is great but might i suggest shy reader who’s all “no, i’m way too loud,” but they pull your head up from the sheets/uncover your mouth and say, “i don’t care how loud you are. i want to hear you.”

#this is abt bakugou and aizawa don’t mind me #also emet-selch would sure as fuck do this and I’d be all for it #also toji and satoru 👀 #hcs #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero #millennialmagicalgirl #bnha smut #mha smut #x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #bnha x reader #mha x reader #jjk x reader #ffxiv #ffxiv x reader #ffxiv smut #smut hcs #bakugou katsuki #aizawa shouta #fushiguro toji #gojo satoru #emet-selch #emet selch

[cinnabun-faerie]

Thank you so much for answering my previous ask ☺️ if possible could I please have some cute headcanons for Alphinaud G'raha Tia Thancred Y'shtola Aymeric Emet-Selch Jullus Zenos Hermes and Urianger with a WoL that turns into a blanket burrito when it gets cold outside? (It's actually cold where i live 😅 so it made me think of this ask idea) thank you and please keep up the good work

A/N: It's quite cold where I am as well! I hope you keep warm!

Note: Established relationships, fluffy

Warning: Spoilers if you haven't made it to Endwalker!

Alphinaud

"Do you have room in there for me?"

"Maybe."

he thinks that you're so adorable when you're wrapped up like that

perhaps before joining you, he could go put a few more sticks on the fire

he'd rather not have you nor him freeze to death

actually he would ask if you want to go and sit together in front of the fire for a while

you'd grudgingly agree

it's much warmer with the fire and you're cuddled up with him in a chair, head resting on his shoulder

Aymeric

Seeing as Ishgard is always cold, he understands why you'd be so bundled up

honestly you look so cute like that

but how was he supposed to hold you and get warm?

you had all of the blankets

perhaps you'd rather some body heat to help

"Sweetheart, can I hold you in the blankets?"

"Please!"

He would chuckle at your eagerness to engulf him into the blankets

"We can stay like this til morning if you'd like."

"I'd hope so or you'll end up a Knight-cicle."

Emet-Selch

Rolls Eyes

It wasn't that cold

but if you were that cold, then he could just go get you another blanket

the things he does for the love of his existence

"If you keep rolling your eyes, Emet-Selch, you'll never be granted access to the blanket."

"You're not going to share with me? After I get you two more blankets? I can't believe you."

"Two? Maybe we can call a truce."

when he finally joins you under the blankets, you realize that he's just as cold as you are

you lay on top of him and tuck the blankets around both of you

"Don't worry, I'll get us nice and warm."

G'raha Tia

G'raha was your blanket burrito buddy

he got a bit cold as well and the best thing to do was to cuddle up together

at least then he could pull you close to him

he was so cute for this as you were so fond of the way he nuzzled against you

"Shall I get more blankets?"

"No. I'm warm just like this. And I don't want you to move."

"Thank goodness. I didn't want to stop holding you, even for a moment.

Hermes

When he'd see you in your little blanket burrito, he would chuckle to himself

he should have known that you would be in here if he couldn't find you elsewhere

he would not try to wake you, but he would go to his side of the bed and cover himself with an extra blanket that you had not stolen for your burrito

his back was to you when you woke up to see him laying beside

"Hermes?"

you had moved closer to wrap your arm around him, your hand finding his

"Hm?"

"Missed you."

"Missed you too, love."

Jullus

Whether you were used to the cold or not, you were constantly cold

and being with him in Garlemald didn't help

but he had a solution for that

he had the fluffiest blankets reserved just for you and him

and when he sees you all bundled up like a burrito, he would have the cutest smile on his face

he adored you so much no matter what you did

he would join you in bed and pull you close so he could kiss your forehead, nose, cheeks and finally your lips

his heart would melt when you snuggle up next to him

Thancred

He loved teasing you whenever you were wrapped up like a burrito

you just looked so cute

and you had the best reactions of course

"Cold are we?"

"Yes."

"And what if I am too?"

"Get your own blanket."

"I'm wounded, Y/N. My own partner doesn't want to share with me."

You would tug Thancred on the bed before wrapping him and you up in the blankets, earning a laugh from him

"Shut up."

"You know, if you want to get warm, I know a good way."

"Thancred!"

Urianger

Whenever you got cold, you had this habit of wrapping yourself up in a blanket burrito and waddling out to wherever Urianger

there you would simply throw yourself at him

and he'd always catch you and set you in his lap

he knew that you preferred the blanket and his body heat

at least then he could read to you and you could warm him up

Y'shtola

"Is it burrito season?"

"It is. Will you be joining?"

"When have I ever refused."

Whenever you got cold, she always joined you

sometimes you formed her own burrito or other times she would just join yours

and whenever either of you were cuddled together in one big burrito, it wouldn't be long before you both would be fast asleep

Zenos

How could you be cold when he always pulled you close, providing you lots of heat?

regardless, he found you wrapped up in the blankets to be rather endearing

his heart might even skip a beat when you start wrapping him up in the same big blanket with you

"Are you satisfied?"

"Yes."

#ffxiv #ffxiv headcanons #alphinaud x reader #aymeric x reader #emet selch x reader #g'raha tia x reader #hermes x reader #jullus x reader #thancred x reader #urianger x reader #y'shtola x reader #zenos x reader

[neimlise]

*(Y/n) is cooking*

Hythlodaeus: Any chance that’s for me?

(Y/n): It’s for Venat. I’m planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need her on my side.

Emet-Selch: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv x reader #final fantasy xiv x reader #hythlodaeus #hythlodaeus x reader #hydaelyn #venat #hydaelyn x reader #venat x reader #emet selch #hades #emet selch x reader #hades x reader #endwalker #endwalker x reader #endwalker spoilers #non wol!reader content #but can be read as wol #honestly #the amount of times I have to spell hythlodaeus

[lazypotaters]

THIS LINE HAS BEEN STUCK IN MY HEAD EVER SINCE I HEARD IT IN ENGLISH. ITS SO F*CKING FIRE 🤌

#ffxiv #ffxiv miqo #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy x reader #emet selch #ff14 azem #azem #ascians

[galaxiabunny]

Some lovely angst is nice too  (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖) 

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv au ra #ff14 #ffxiv oc #ffxiv endwalker #ffxiv emet selch #ffxiv art #final fantasy online #fifxiv #ffxiv wol #au ra female #au ra wol #ffxiv xaela #fem xaela #xaela oc #ff14 xaela #warrior of light #wol x emet selch #emet x reader #emet-selch #kira's art

[thelaughtercafe]

Discoveries

Tea Type: Subtly Sweet Tea (Fluff with a sprinkle of mean/mocking teasing)

Potential Triggers: Nothing except suggestive tickling, and speaking of it!

Pairing: Emet-Selch/Reader, eventually Ascians/Reader

Length: 935

Summary: A tickle fic with the Ascians because I couldn’t help myself. Reader is Azem, but they’ll go unnamed. Each Ascian will get their own oneshot, so far it’ll be Emet, Lahabrea, Elidibus and Fandaniel and then I may have a timeskip to an Emet/WoL scene, in the future. I am now caught up with Endwalker but wasn't at the time so apologies if anyone seems ooc. I may rewrite it later on to update it.

“You put in quite a peculiar request at the Bureau of the Architect, I hear.”

You whirled to glare at Elidibus before averting your eyes dismissively, already on the defensive from where you had once been enjoying your afternoon tea in peace.

“Oh? And how would you know such information? All creation matrix are to be private unless otherwise allowed by the creator.”

“Oh come now. You needn’t be so shy. I think it’s adorable .”

Despite the seemingly kind words, they were biting and mocking, thick with judgement.

You opened your mouth hesitantly, trying to think of what to say next when a smooth voice interrupted.

“That’s quite enough mockery Elidibus; I do believe one of Lahabrea’s pets has gotten loose and is seeking to devour the other. A tragedy, to be sure.”

You heard Elidibus scoff before he left without so much as a nod at Emet-Selch. Said Ascian shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“Such discourse. Tsk tsk. Very unfitting of the Emissary in our ranks don’t you think?”

“You didn’t have to protect me. I could’ve handled him, really.”

Your voice was soft, but only out of anxiety. Emet-Selch was typically the one person you didn’t have to be anxious with, but given he stood up for you that meant he knew exactly what you were being taunted for.

“Please just tell me no-one else knows. Please.”

A beat of silence and you heard him sigh as he joined you on the couch, creating a cup for himself as well.

“…No-one else save the 3 of us are aware, to my knowledge. I already erased it from the records. But; I feel I have the right to ask.”

You knew he would. You tensed expectantly, eyes locked on the now empty saucer and cup on your table.

“…We’re both adults Emet. Please, for all of creation, don’t make me say it aloud. I’m mortified enough as it is.”

“Elidibus is wrong about a lot of things. He wasn’t about this.”

That made you look at him in shock. His eyes and voice were both too gentle to be lying.

“You talked about it together?!”

He nodded, smiling ever so slightly at your shock.

“He meant what he said, you know. His tone came out as such because he was both nervous, and slightly annoyed you weren’t looking at him. I can read the man like a book by now. He knew he messed up which is why he fled. He was blushing darker than you are right now as I pointed out what he was doing. It really is adorable.”

The mischief you were worried about seeing from him jumped out as he tried to clamp down on the grin tugging at his lips.

“If you wanted to be tickled all you had to do was ask, you know. Either of us would’ve been happy to. Lahabrea too.”

You gave him a deadpan look at Lahabrea’s name and he snickered.

“Lahabrea had better not know about this. He’d never let me live it down.”

“Oh come now I’m sure he wouldn’t mind!”

Emet-Selch chirped way too happily for your liking and you groaned.

“…He already knows, doesn’t he?”

He smiled, unflinchingly.

“I may have caught him getting a glance at the book before I could get rid of the evidence so in all likelihood yes, especially given the grin that lit up his face.”

“Kill me now.”

You let your body roll to the side so you could rest against him, hiding your blushing face in his robe.

“I’m fairly certain he’ll take care of it for you ere long. Knowing him, he’ll likely corner you once he has a plan in mind. My assumption is he’ll pretend he doesn’t know until you accuse him yourself.  You know how he is, always keeping the ace in his pocket.”

You risked a glance at him, slightly amused as you began to relax thanks to his nonchalance.

“…Any chance we can teleport him elsewhere for an impromptu vacation? Or maybe you feel like helping me get something embarrassing about him in turn?”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head as he looked down at you from the corner of his eye.

“Sure. I could . But I assure you wielding such information against him would only serve to set him on the warpath against you, and if you think him cruel now in his machinations what he next inflicts will make the prior child’s play in comparison. He may not show it; but he does actually like you, as all in the Covenant do. He just shows it in the most obnoxious way conceivable.”

Emet’s grin turned sharp suddenly.

“Forget tickle machines - I’m quite sure literal tickle monsters would be much harder to contend with, combat prowess or no.”

You tensed up as he brought it up explicitly, pulling back to pout at him.

“Why do you have to say it? You know how flustered I get. Mean.”

He snickered at that before shrugging.

“Not my fault you make it so easy. I propose an idea. Why not choose between the 3 of us? That way you at least won’t be ambushed out of the blue.”

You reeled back in shock at that.

“Who-Who said they’d even want to? Or that you would for that matter?!”

He rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance.

“I assure you; I do, as do they. And even should they change their mind, they may decline when we gather to tell them your choice.”

His eyes twinkled in amusement, and he patted your cheek patronizingly.

“Do choose wisely.”

#tlc: tickle fics #tlc: subtly sweet tea #ffxiv tickle fic #emet selch x reader #emet selch x you #elidibus x you #elidibus x reader #lahabrea x you #lahabrea x reader #final fantasy xiv tickle fic #fandaniel x you #fandaniel x reader #female reader #tickling #tickles #tickle #ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14

[ardberts]

title: come near me. rating: pg-13. pairing: emet-selch x wol, emet-selch x reader notes: couldn’t get this out of my head, ok?

quick thought, left or right could it be a strong case of fight or flight?

This isn’t how you thought you’d feel but the way your body responds seems right — the quickening pulse beneath your skin, the breath trapped in your lungs, hair at the back of your neck on end, flesh burning in every place he’s pressed up against you. You’re shrewdly aware of the way his knee pushes into your thigh, hard enough to leave a bruise and keep you in his mercy no matter how hard you shove back. He is stronger, taller, meaner.

The wind rushes from your lungs as your back slams into the wall behind you. He has his hands around both your wrists, one pinned up by your head and other outstretched at your side, his fingertips pressing mercilessly into the soft spot at the base of your palm until you’re finally forced to drop your weapon. You grit your teeth as it clatters noisily to the ground and before you can begin to think of your next move, he has a hand at your throat, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, golden eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming with self-satisfaction.

He’s so close to you now that you can feel his breath on your cheek. Your free hand flies up to grab his arm, clutching the fabric of his coat in your fist but there’s something off about the way your heart thuds within your chest, something unexpected and not quite right. You don’t try to pry yourself free from his grasp. It’s not that kind of apprehension, and you slowly realize that the trickle of icy fear sliding into the pit of your stomach is from the threat — not of danger, but of wanting this.

“This can’t be right,” you hear yourself whisper, voice strained from the pressure of his thumb at your windpipe. You struggle to maintain the hateful glare in your eyes but you find yourself stunned in more ways than one. “This can’t be right, right?”

You see a brief flash of sharp, canine teeth as he grins and tilts your head to the side, his lips skimming the line of your jaw as he whispers back, “Can’t it?”

A chill fights to creep its way up your spine but is drowned in the heat rising at the base of your skull as the hand he has at your throat slides to the back of your neck. You loosen your vice grip on his sleeve, your body betraying your senses as you arch yourself into him. You don’t know where your courage comes from as you turn your head to brush your lips against his, the lightest of grazes, briefest of touches, tentative and testing.

He is less cautious, has no need to be, catches your lips with his own before you can manage to think better of the idea, pries them apart with his tongue and claims you. Your heart beats ruthlessly against your ribcage as he tangles his fingers in your hair and you’re suffocating again, drowning in the heat of this kiss, unsure if you’ll be willing or even able to resurface. You can feel your good judgment clawing at the back of your mind, fighting uselessly against a rising tide and it doesn’t matter. You’re suddenly strung out on him, high on this, whatever this is, a fever dream that leaves you sweaty and breathless and compromised —

And then it’s gone. Like the swarm of darkness from Pandora’s box, he releases you. Cold, empty air bites your skin in the absence of his warmth and you are unraveled, stinging and starved of touch, cruelly and wholly unfinished. A sinister smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he backs away and you realize all at once that this was his game all along, not violence that spilled your blood to the floor, but the slow torture of something awakening within you that you didn’t know existed.

It’s agony — you’ve never felt hatred like this before.

He snaps his fingers, eyes glinting with malevolence and triumph as he disappears into the shadows. You’re left defeated and ashamed, bested in a fight for which you had no weapon and no training. The only person you have to blame is yourself — you never should have expected Emet-Selch to play fair.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #emet-selch #emet-selch x wol #emet-sec x reader #my fic #ship: a strong case of fight or flight #holy shit this took me the better part of a day and it's so short. #but idc I actually like it which is more than I can usually say. #you don't have to read this idc I'm just happy I did a thing.

[lovehotelreservation]

"The W*rrior of L*ght can't resist the pleasure of being bred by an Asci*n!!!!" co-starring Emet-Selch please! Tags: breeding, rough sex

"Where's that bravado of yours, hero? Don't tell me that a mere taste of carnal pleasure is the key to your undoing~"

A pompous yet breathy cackle rose from the depths of Emet's throat, his tongue lapping over his lips in delight as he gazed down at your current state of ruin: the writhe of your body with each of his punishing thrusts, your skin marred in red from the bites of his teeth, your moaning lips clamoring for more of his seed.

His lips fixed in a wicked grin, he continued to keep you pinned beneath him as he continued to pummel your sopping core with his cock.

"I suppose we'll just have to explore this further as you bear my legacy in that darling body of yours ♡"

#emet selch #emet selch x wol #emet selch x reader #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #reader insert #Preferred Tags #super freaknasty writing

[yukiotacon]

Okay! I'm curious! I hope this is okay!

Nald'thal... What if WoL mentions that Nald sounds like G'raha and Thal sounds similar to Hades/Emet-Selch? I'm curious their reactions xP

Similar voices hcs

Emet

You do realize your adventures are like their netflix in the life stream to which Hythlodaeus does not stop watching

Imagine your partner watching something on the television while you are trying to sleep

He finds it rather flattering and unsettling that Thal has his voice

Though Hythlodaeus does make fun of how they sound alike

To which, Emet in tsundere fashion denies it

Emet does get really concerned to the point he watches you fight

Keeper of the dead my butt, or something like that Emet mumbles

All in all, Emet silently prays you triumph over this

G'raha Tia

Will get super interested in what Nald had to say

Though him imagining saying those words to you makes him blush

Such vim and vigor sounds to scandalous for our cat boi to handle

He shakes off the embarrassment and becomes objective

G'raha Tia tried his best to change the subject because he feels embarrassed by the idea of someone sounding like him flirting with you

#yukiotacon #; yukiotacon ask. #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv fic #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy xiv x reader #ff14 headcanons #final fantasy xiv headcanons #ff14 fanfic #final fantasy x reader #emet/wol #emet selch x reader #emet selch x wol #ffxiv emet selch #emet selch #emet x wol #emetwol #g'raha x reader #wol x g'raha tia #ffxiv g'raha tia #g'raha #g'raha/wol #hythlodeus

[agent-cupcake]

vers la flamme

my first commission for the very lovely and patient @tortxrra

Pairing: Emet-Selch x f! Au Ra Warrior of Light

Synopsis: Emet-Selch comes to the aid of the poor hero in her time of need.

Warnings: explicit smut, dubcon

Tags: mating cycles/in heat, omega reader, breeding kink, size difference

Word Count: 9.5k

As far as anyone knew, you were unwell.  It wasn’t a horrible lie; it was almost true. These days, your condition—and that’s what you called it, a condition—was almost unheard of. There was no reason to tell people. Hardly any Auri alphas were born anymore, let alone omegas. If you told someone, you’d have to explain what those terms meant outside the realm of beasts, and then you’d have to explain how it affected you, and then you’d have to justify yourself because biology dictated a far different role for you, and it wasn’t like it mattered, it wasn’t like hierarchy had any bearing on what you were, it wasn’t like it made you any less of a combatant, or less capable or-

But it did matter. It meant something, there was a stigma. Maybe your friends would understand, but it would certainly change how you were perceived. So you had to lie when you felt the foreboding signs of an oncoming heat. They worried, but they accepted what you told them. They trusted you. 

It was terrible, made even worse with unfathomable destruction’s fulgent shadow looming nearer and nearer. Absolutely brilliant timing, almost as if your body was aiming to find the worst possible moment. There was nothing to be done about it though, you were out of commission during a heat. While the whole thing was always an uncomfortable, humiliating process, this one was different. You weren’t sure what triggered it—you militantly did what you could to suppress going into heat—or what happened that it was so overwhelmingly, relentlessly, aggressively strong. All you knew was that while you were on the ebbing tide and in possession of your own mind momentarily, there would be more, and it would be brutal. An insatiable hunger, an itch you dared not scratch. A fundamental need so intense it hurt, burning you from the inside out.  

Already the cramps were starting up again, the twitching of your abdominal muscles, the slick give of heat in your core. Your mind, only so focused in the first place, clouded on the edges. Emotions you didn’t have a name for teased you from afar. 

Someone knocked at the door. It spoke to your state of unsound mind that the noise didn’t so much as spark a defensive thought in your head. 

“Come in,” you called, unthinkingly believing it to be the things you requested. Ice, a heat compress, and towels. They didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing. The door cracked open, but you didn’t look, your back turned as you did what you could to make the bed more comfortable before your body worked back into another feverish wave. You maintained the habit of changing sheets and clothes whenever you could to keep from feeling, and smelling, like a feral bitch nesting in a cave. “If you’ll just put it on the table, I would appreciate it,” you said over your shoulder, hoping to keep yourself as concealed from the maid as was possible under the circumstances.

“Was I to come bearing gifts?” a familiar voice asked. The door shut and you stood up straight fast enough to make yourself dizzy, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. “I’m afraid I wasn’t aware, you will have to-”

Shattered from your stupor of shock, you yelped girlishly and whirled around to face the intruder. In place of the serving woman you expected, the Ascian Emet-Selch stood in front of your closed door with a familiarly amused look as he appraised you. 

Stupid. Of course those footsteps had been too heavy for any woman. Your hearing was more than acute enough to isolate his slow, steady gait. You should have recognized it, you should have been paying attention. You should have known something would go terribly, catastrophically wrong.

But it was too late. 

When your mind swam in the hazy, unending ocean of desire and needful desperation, platonic and amorous affection easily got twisted up, even less savory emotions could become sweet given the intensity of need. You tried not to think too hard about who your mind conjured to fill the hollow ache between your legs because you knew it wasn’t what you actually wanted. But it was one thing for your subconscious to wrap around friends and allies or even minor adversaries. It was another thing entirely for your mind to have ravenously latched onto an Ascian, to conjure countless fantasies of someone who you could barely trust, let alone think to desire. 

“You can't be in here! Get out!” you told him, hurling one of the pillows you had been holding at him in senseless panic. Emet-Selch easily knocked it aside, staring at you with a look of bemusement.

“Mayhap you recall,” he said, “inviting me in only a moment prior?”

“I thought you were someone else!” you replied in a voice slightly too shrill.

“‘Twas your error, not mine. I would have been more than happy to announce myself should you have asked.” His head tipped to the side, earring winking in the low light. “If I may, the amount of trust you place in those around you could be seen as reckless. I’d have thought you would be more careful.”

His condescension made everything worse. Of all people, why was it Emet-Selch? 

“I told you to get out!” you said, throwing the other pillow in his direction. He dodged this one with a casual duck of his head, letting it thump powerlessly against the door and land at his feet with the other. 

“Is this the might of the famed hero? An interesting approach to be sure, but I must say that I’m skeptical such tactics will be effective against the sin eaters. Though I will defer to your judgment, it has proven to be effective thus far,” Emet-Selch said, amusement dancing in his light eyes. 

You grit your teeth, nostrils flaring. Even across the room, you could smell him, your senses unnaturally acute. Leather, aged spices you couldn’t name, metal, and the tangy, earthy remnants of wherever he had been before. Your primal, animalistic self smelled heat and alluring musk. Crudely put, he smelled like a man. A mate. Your pussy throbbed uncomfortably, abdomen cramping, your thighs becoming increasingly wet because there was no point in putting on panties beneath the loose pajamas when they’d become soaked through right away.

This was bad. He needed to leave. You needed to demand he leave, at weapon’s edge if necessary. But if you got any closer to him, your body’s reaction would just get worse. Not only that, but being in heat sapped you of strength. Any fight you could put up would be mediocre at best, and that was assuming you could stay on your feet. 

“What do you need?” you asked in a would-be controlled voice, shifting awkwardly and hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell why. 

Emet-Selch gave you a look like you were being tiresome. Like he wasn’t the one in the wrong here. "In a meeting called to discuss plans in which your participation is most vital, your absence did not go unnoticed. Nor was it excused. What resulted was a spectacularly tedious waste of my time. That alone, perhaps, I could accept as a forgone conclusion of choosing to partner with you and yours. However, your loyal friends were curiously tight lipped when asked to provide any justifiable reason for your nonattendance. Alas, with little else to entertain me, I’ve come to confirm the truth of why you saw fit to neglect your duties.” 

Slowly, deliberately, he gave you a once over that had your skin crawling. It wasn’t hard to imagine what you must have looked like. Flushed, glassy eyed, lips bitten to a slight swell, skin glossy, hair a mess, your scales shining with sweat. Framed by a room made for those much larger than you and wearing simple clothes that advertised your small stature, you knew that you looked nothing like the strong warrior you strived to be. 

“Feeling a bit under the weather, are you?” Emet-Selch asked with something like sympathy. “And what is it, pray tell, that has our hero indisposed?” 

"It's none of your business," you snapped, your shoulders curling inward. 

“Your need for secrecy is most interesting,” Emet-Selch said, undeterred. “I understand, you know. It isn’t easy, hiding what you truly are.”

“I have… no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, eyes widening with a fresh surge of panic you couldn’t hide.

“There’s no need to maintain this charade. Your friends lack the knowledge and experience to see what is so plain. I do not,” Emet-Selch told you in a matter-of-fact tone, taking a step forward as he considered you with those unnerving yellow eyes. You swallowed hard, forcing your breathing to even out. 

“You need to leave,” you told him, pressing yourself even closer to the harsh edge of the bedside table as if there was anywhere in your room that you wouldn’t be able to smell him, that you would be able to escape his eyes.

“Nevertheless, I could not be entirely certain that my suspicions were correct,” he said, ignoring your demand. “Until now, that is. ‘Tis neither traditional illness nor injury, that much is obvious. At a glance, you suffer symptoms of a heretofore unknown malady. But that is naught more than a convenient lie.” Emet-Selch paused there dramatically, giving you an expectant look. 

"It’s still none of your business," you said, your voice cracking under the force you used to keep it from wavering. You couldn’t meet his eye.

Emet-Selch smirked and it was dizzying. Sickening. Humiliating. “It most certainly is. The hero cannot play her part whilst she’s in heat,” he said without missing a beat, his voice perfectly smooth and sure.

“That isn’t… that’s not…” you stumbled over the objection because you couldn’t think of a lie, embarrassment scrambling your already disordered thoughts. Eventually, “How do you know?”

“‘Twas obvious from the first, though I confess to having doubted my assessment erewhile. To think that you of all people would be an omega.” Emet-Selch shook his head, clearly amused by the notion. “Hearing of your supposed illness confirmed my suspicions. I daresay you would throw yourself into your work regardless of any other ailment, but not this. Your body is primed to take a mate, inflicting upon you a number of rather unsavory symptoms. Weak, dull-witted, and overcome with a need so great it borders madness. ‘Twould be quite the disaster for those who follow your example to see you reduced to such a feeble, debauched state. Brought low by nature itself.” 

You wanted to be strong, to meet his insult with strength or humor. If you weren’t on the edge of senselessness, you could have. Instead, you felt shameful tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a reaction to the cruel words you couldn’t stifle with your slipping emotions. You focused on his boots, trying to hide your reaction. 

“Get out,” you said, your voice husky. 

In your periphery, you saw Emet-Selch’s shoulders fall. He sighed. “Vexatious as it has proven to be, I must admit that I prefer your righteous fire to this piteous display,” he said. 

“Get out now,” you repeated, attempting to sound stronger.

“That’s better,” Emet-Selch said, smiling. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “I mean it.” 

“Oh yes,” he agreed indulgently. “Are you waiting for someone? Mayhap one of your friends? It strikes me as odd that the esteemed hero should lack companionship in her hour of urgent need.”

The very idea made you cringe. No matter what fantasies came to mind while you were in heat, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t you. Allowing anyone to see you like this was already unthinkable, let alone giving anyone that level of power over you. 

“I don’t want companionship.”

“Nobody else knows, do they?” Emet-Selch asked. He phrased it like a question, but his smile was knowing.

You didn’t say anything, wishing desperately for a way out of this situation, for a way to convince Emet-Selch to forget. Convinced that you hated him. Painfully aware that you wanted him, your muscles trembled with the strain of longing. It was obvious he took some sort of pleasure in being the only one to know your secret and it made you want to scream, to cry, to fight him with more than just pillows. But you did nothing. The air of the room was pressing in, becoming thicker, hotter, more difficult to breathe. 

“That’s rather selfish of you, don’t you think? In your pride, you deprive yourself of the surest method of swiftly ending a heat. As a consequence, your friends and allies are forced to wait that much longer, putting at risk their carefully crafted plans.” 

“There’s no way to end it faster.” 

“Of course there is,” Emet-Selch said patronizingly. “A heat functions in much the same way as any other biological need. One does not slake their thirst without accepting a drink.” He smirked, head tipping towards you. “I’m afraid to say a pillow is a poor substitute for that which you truly need, be it weapon or tool.”

You winced, shame flushing through you. 

“Seeing as you have no desire to reveal yourself to your friends, I shall help you,” Emet-Selch said with a sigh, like he was doing you a laborious favor. He crossed further into the room with confident strides. There were dozens of ways you could have stopped him, that you could have evaded his approach, but you just watched with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“You’re not serious,” you said, caught between horror and a fresh onslaught of lust. Your pussy throbbed dully, the muscles of your abdomen fluttering. The room was too hot, your clothes too tight. It left you lightheaded. “You… We can’t…” You shook your head wildly, but it only made you dizzier. “No way, I don’t need or want you to… do that.” 

“Pray spare the both of us the tedium of your perfunctory protestation. The obvious intensity of your need belies any petty rejection,” Emet-Selch told you, now only a yalm away. You had backed yourself into a corner, there was literally nowhere for you to go. “Yours is not only a physical reaction, your entire being is sending out a signal to those that will hear it.” He paused to shoot you a smirk. “A signal, might I add, that is only growing stronger the longer we speak.”

“That’s not…” your denial trailed off, confused. You were under the impression that only alphas could sense the cycles of omegas. But Emet-Selch not only wasn’t an alpha, but he was also incompatible with you while wearing the body of a Garlean. Did that mean he was bluffing? But why? You had the awful feeling that you were missing something important here. “That’s not true.”

“Deny it all you like,” Emet-Selch said, “your body begs for relief. Don’t be ashamed. It is positively delectable—the carnal call of an omega. Little wonder you have amassed so many adoring followers, how could they resist such an enticing lure? I myself am not immune to its effects.” 

That caused your breath to hitch, heat sinking further down into your core. “Don’t come any closer,” you told him, wishing there was more of a threat in your tone, more steel. 

“A stubborn, independent hero to the last,” Emet-Selch said. “It does you little good, I’m afraid. Willpower alone will not solve your predicament. If it eases the sting, think of this as aid not unlike any other I might provide. Whatever it takes to help the hero back on her feet.” 

“It’s not at all the same,” you said, your voice weak. You should have been loudly and aggressively objecting, you knew absolutely that your sane mind would have never permitted this. But, at this point, the only reason you weren’t on your knees, doubled over with the agonizingly present pressure in your core, was because you were so heavily leaning on the table behind you. 

There was a knocking sound. It took a second for you to realize that somebody was at your door. Emet-Selch half looked over his shoulder at it, his response cut off before it could begin. 

“I have the things you asked for, miss,” a voice called from the other side, her voice muffled. It took you a moment to realize what was happening. A moment too long, the doorknob rattled. 

“Don’t come in!” you called loudly, impulsively. Emet-Selch looked back to you. His eyes challenged you to walk past him to open the door, to risk allowing her to see the company you kept while on your supposed sickbed. It was an expression that dared you to ask her for help in removing your unwanted visitor. “I’m… I’m not decent.” 

Emet-Selch laughed, a short exhale that felt far too loud for what it was.

Even through the layer of wood, you could feel the woman’s dismay at your tone. “Shall I set them outside your door, miss?” she asked. 

“Yes, please,” you responded, avoiding Emet-Selch’s eyes. 

“Very well, miss.” You listened carefully as she set the things down, waiting for her footsteps to retreat before allowing your shoulders to relax slightly. You closed your eyes to avoid looking at him, barely daring to breathe in an attempt to clear your head.

“No amount of ice will cool your flesh,” Emet-Selch told you. Now that he was closer, the bass in his voice became clearer, the sound vibrating through your horns and tingling down your spine. “Nor will a warm compress relax your aching muscles. There is but a single cure.” 

“No,” you said, looking at him from beneath your eyelashes. Gods, he was tall. You had to painfully crane your neck up to see his face. It was no better than being on your knees. “You’re…” Our enemy? Untrustworthy? Frustrating and ambiguously evil? “...too old for me.” 

Your absurd complaint, at the very least, seemed to surprise Emet-Selch. He hesitated, giving you a flat look. “That is where you choose to draw the line?” he asked. 

You could have elaborated, made a quip that would distance you from him. Maybe playing stupid would get you out of this, making a joke would dispel the unbearable tension. But your head was buzzing and all that emerged was a shrug, your attempt at making light of the situation smothered out.

He blinked, shaking his head. “Surely my age can only be a boon to you. The breadth of my experience would easily outpace even the most rakish of men you have known. Wives, mistresses, lovers—I’ve enjoyed aught that your fragmented kind has to offer throughout countless lifetimes. In this, and most things, there will be none more skilled than I.” 

Gods help you. 

“No,” you said, rejecting everything. Him, your traitorous body, the part of you that wanted to give in, the fact that you were burning alive with need. That sort of confidence would normally make you roll your eyes, but you didn’t think he was bragging. At least the reminder that he was, in fact, an immortal Ascian brought something more sensical to your mind. 

There needed to be more space between the two of you. Further for sound to travel, for his scent to reach your nose, enough space that you didn’t have to crane your neck to look at him. But as soon as you stepped away from the table, your legs nearly buckled. While holding still, you hadn’t been aware of how much of a mess you’d become. Thighs slick with arousal, your pussy painfully throbbing, all of your blood routed away from your head and leaving it dangerously light. Holding your breath wasn’t enough, it just trapped his scent in your lungs. 

“Going somewhere?” Emet-Selch asked casually. 

“No,” you said again. “No, I can’t. I-” 

A few stumbling steps was all it took before a wave of dizziness overtook your body, the lack of blood going to your brain catching up with you. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen.

An eternity of unreality consumed you, the edges of your vision going dark and the room tipping over. Everything that had ever happened grew distant, the summary of your strange life falling apart into incomprehensible nonsense in your spinning head. And Emet-Selch was there, supporting your weight, keeping you from collapsing. You realized it was him before anything else settled, as if he was all that was real for a frenzied few seconds filled only by the sound of your racing heart.

“-so obstinate?” The first part of his question got lost, but his voice rumbled through you. The fabric of his coat was rough against your overly sensitive skin. And then you were laying down, blinking up at the ceiling. “It is not as charming as you might believe it to be.”

You looked around wildly, confused. The words were clear and you understood their meaning, but something in your mind didn’t connect. You got your elbows beneath yourself, fighting the uncomfortably dizzy sway of your head. 

“Need I tether you to the bedposts ere you try, and fail, to stand?” Emet-Selch asked, removing his gloves finger by finger. 

Any coherent response you might have had was wiped away by a heavy, violent pulse of heat shooting straight through you. Some people might have classified the feeling as lust, but you knew better. Lust was a reaction to sensuality, it belonged to you and could be acted on accordingly. This was aggressive need condensed down into a weapon that left you weak. It didn’t feel good, it didn’t beg for stimulation. Your body shuddered and drew taut, aggressively demanding satisfaction. 

Unable to do anything else, your mouth fell open with a long groan, feet digging into the mattress and rucking up the sheets. Mindlessly, your hands grasped at the clothes you still wore, pulling the fabric away from your skin before you remembered that you had company. And then you just closed your eyes, shame managing to worm its way into your brain. 

“This is a sorry sight,” Emet-Selch said from somewhere above you. “Do you suffer so profoundly each time?”  

You shook your head, hands covering your face. No, you didn’t. Usually you had at least some control, some strength. “Stop talking,” was all you could say.

That got a laugh out of him, warm and amused. You lowered your hands enough to look at Emet-Selch through teary eyelashes. His gloves were gone, as was the big coat. How he managed to wear so many layers, you had no idea. Nor were you entirely certain how he could have gotten out of them so quickly, draping the pieces of his robes over the furniture.  

“What are you doing?” you asked, getting your arms beneath you once more. 

Emet-Selch gave you a sideways glance, eyes narrowed. “What do you think?” 

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. Emet-Selch looked far less bulky without his Imperial raiment, but he wasn’t any less intimidating. Now that he was stripped down to the formfitting undergarments, you were bluntly reminded of the very simple and important fact that he was a man and you were beyond the pale in terms of sexual need. 

“No,” you said, twisting onto your knees and crawling towards the edge of the bed. “You can’t…” Emet-Selch stopped you with a flat look, his eyes unflinchingly holding yours. “You can’t,” you repeated softly, your voice without conviction. 

He huffed, walking towards you. By the time you had made up your mind to get up, to avoid him, Emet-Selch’s hand was around your neck. Not to choke you, although you were more than aware of how easy that would have been, but to hold you in place. Even though you were taller kneeling on the bed than you were standing, he towered over you. You didn’t so much as reach his shoulder.

Trembling, you grabbed his wrist, pulling hard in an attempt to get away. “Stop, you can’t-” Emet-Selch’s fingers tightened, just a little. Enough to put some pressure on your windpipe, and enough to further remind you of how much bigger he was, the span of his fingers a scant few ilms from encircling your neck entirely.

“Come now,” he chided softly. Your body instinctively went limp with submission, recognizing the action as the assertion of dominance that it was. His lips quirked at the easy victory. You grit your teeth and stared at his chest instead, hating yourself for being so weak to instinct. 

“Let me…” you said, your voice slurring over the words. “Let me go.” 

“Surely you can feel that the time for protest is over,” Emet-Selch told you softly, tilting up your chin to force you to meet his shadowed eyes. “We both know that it is not me that you reject so vehemently, but the perceived moral crime of desiring me. So avail yourself of responsibility. Take heart in the belief that you did aught you could to put an end to this and cling to the lie of innocence. Accept when you are beaten, hero. I have every intention of seeing that your needs are met. All I require is your cooperation.” 

You pulled weakly on his wrist, shaking your head but unable to verbally deny his accusation. Fighting him because you knew you had to.

“Must you make this more difficult than it needs be?” Emet-Selch asked, his voice tightening with growing ire. “Very well.” With the hand not holding your neck, he snapped. The sharp sound caused you to wince, and your immediate nudity drew that out into a yelp. Air that had seemed so hot and oppressive only moments before exposed you to a frightening chill, caressing your flushed skin far too intimately. But there was no time to react. Either because of your disorientation or his sheer physical ability, Emet-Selch moved too quickly for you to fight as he sat on the bed, pulling you by the neck to lay flat on your back across his lap.

Something like stage fright overtook you as he surveyed your exposed body, an echo of battle shyness you hadn't felt in a very long time. The physical pressure of wild nerves compressed by an inescapable threat. It wasn’t as if you were a blushing virgin, but there was not a single aspect of Emet-Selch that wasn’t intimidating. He saw everything, every weakness, every insecurity, he saw your helplessness and you knew he wasn’t above cruel exploitation. A part of you thought that you’d rather face him in a fight than like this, that you would feel more confident on a battlefield than on your bed. 

“Don’t,” you choked out, renewing your fight to cover yourself, your thighs pressed together so tightly that they trembled, one hand fighting his grip on your throat while the other tried to cover your chest. Not that there was a way to hide that your nipples were painfully stiff, tender and shooting sparks of stimulation through you at even a ghost of a touch. 

Emet-Selch drew a finger between the crease of your thighs, gliding across the slick arousal that coated your skin. When you didn’t open your legs at the silent prompt, his eyes dragged upwards, taking in every detail of your torso, your half-covered chest, his hand casually laying over your neck, all the way up to your face.

“Honestly…” he muttered, annoyed. Emet-Selch released your neck and you quickly began to scramble to move off of him, to make yourself less vulnerable. But another snap and you felt your ankles being pried apart, shackled in the uncomfortable embrace of conjured chains. It didn’t seem like they were anchored to anything, but their hold was unyielding. You fought them, but it was useless. Your tail, mostly trapped beneath you, beat unhappily against the bed, catching the sheets and dragging them askew. 

“You can’t just… let me go,” you said, though the words were more of a distressed whine than a demand by the time you got them out.

“There’s more truth to that than you could possibly know,” Emet-Selch said under his breath like it was an inside joke. 

His hand slid up your leg, taking his time now that you were helplessly exposed, admiring the pattern of your scales. You grabbed his wrist to stop him, humiliation painfully twisting your insides. Emet-Selch paused, but didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he slowly looked up to meet your eyes. 

“Tell me, what would you do if I were to stop now?” He spoke with a light tone, casually curious. “I’ve been told of the intense discomfort omega’s suffer, but the brutality of your heat seems to exceed even their arduous experiences.”  

Fear sunk like ice into your gut. Genuine terror. For all of your denial, you hadn’t thought about what it would be like for Emet-Selch to actually stop. You rejected him because you knew had to, consequences either way were meaningless. It brought tears to your eyes to consider the blazing agony of unmet need now that you had been offered salvation. 

Emet-Selch didn’t let your fear linger too long, his expression softening. “I am not so cruel as to demand that the virtuous hero admit to her weakness,” he told you, pulling his hand free of your weak grasp. “I only ask that she behave.” 

Your mouth opened, but you didn’t say anything. What could you say? What were you supposed to do? Of everything else that you felt, the helpless despair was the worst of it. You’d fought dragons and primals and sin eaters with your head held high, only to be defeated by your own body. 

Emet-Selch ignored your emotional turmoil, taking advantage of your motionlessness to trace the line of scales from your hip, sliding over the curve of your leg before settling against your sensitive inner thigh. He kept his eyes on yours as he teased you with the rough drag of his skin against your own, the warmth of his palm flattening and thumb creeping ever closer to where you ached. The sensation went straight to your core, the bottom of your stomach falling through with anxious lust. If feeling the size of his hand around your neck was dizzying, seeing the span of his long fingers curl around so much of your thigh was enough to make your mind short out entirely, the physical difference between you plainly displayed. 

“‘Tis nigh impressive that you should maintain such staunch refusal whilst your body weeps for satisfaction,” Emet-Selch said, punctuating the statement by finally reaching the apex of your thighs and slipping his fingers past your slick outer lips to tease the swollen, sensitive flesh, tracing from your dripping entrance to your aching clit. You jerked, your hips jumping forward, but your legs were too tightly bound to allow for movement. Rather than try and grab his wrist to make him stop like you half wanted, your hands fisted into the sheets for stability. 

Each little circle Emet-Selch drew over your clit had your entire body twitching against him, your breaths coming out in harsh pants. He seemed fascinated by it, content to lazily play with your body while watching how you reacted. 

“If you’re going to… to… Just get on with it,” you told him through gritted teeth. It was one thing if he fucked you, but to have him touch you, to have him look at you with those pale eyes that saw more than you wished they would, was too much. “You don’t need to… to…” 

“To what, pray tell?” Emet-Selch asked. At the same time, he pressed two fingers past the trembling muscles of your entrance, easily sliding them deep into your pussy. Although your inner walls fluttered and tensed and squeezed around the intrusion, there was very little resistance. You were that wet, that desperate to be filled. Your back arched between his thighs, your legs kicking against the bindings, your tail thrashing against the bed uselessly. His fingers curled as they pulled out and a sound finally emerged from your open mouth, a shameless moan. Emet-Selch was barely doing anything, just casually pumping his fingers into you, and it was almost more than you could take, driving you insane.

“Stop,” you gasped, your hands rising to cover your flushed face. “I’m ready, I’m-” 

“If you hadn’t been so resistant,” Emet-Selch told you indifferently, “you would already have what you desire. Be patient now, I certainly have been.”

You just groaned, choking back the impulse to beg and shaking your head. 

“Don’t be so ungrateful. This is for your benefit, not mine,” Emet-Selch scolded, slipping a third finger into you. With how wet you were, it was just as smooth as the first two, but the added weight emptied your head, made your hips jump wildly, your cunt clamping down hard around his fingers. It wasn’t entirely comfortable when they scissored, preparing you to take more, and the burst of pain amidst pleasure surprised you. Emet-Selch pulled in a sharp, disapproving breath. “You’re awfully tight. I take it hero work leaves you little time for dalliances.”

All you could do was moan and gasp. It didn’t take much for your inner walls to adjust around him. You were built to take a lot more than a few fingers. Emet-Selch didn’t seem to have any problems with freely giving you this indulgence. His palm clapped against you with each thrust, his fingers curling and crooking and relentlessly pushing you closer to the edge.

“There’s no need to hide,” Emet-Selch told you. “Allow me to see your face as you come undone on my hand. Surely I deserve to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

Although you didn’t respond verbally, your body did, a helpless sound leaving your mouth and your cunt clamping down around his fingers. You teetered on the brink of pleasure, so close it almost surprised you. Stimulation was ratcheted up in intensity by your heat, it wasn’t exactly difficult to make yourself orgasm. But it would be a lie to say that this wasn’t different. Better than anything you could give yourself, better than anything anyone else had given you. 

When you didn’t comply, Emet-Selch grabbed your horn with his off hand, forcing your face towards him. You immediately tried to pry at his wrist, your eyes snapping open in fear. The sensation of having your horn grabbed while you were like this, wrought with stimulation, was too much. The muffling weight and pressure pulled a cry from your mouth. At the same time, he ground his palm against your swollen clit, his fingers fucking into you relentlessly, noisily. 

The combination of sensations, the assault of depravity, forced you to do exactly as he said, fleetingly meeting the pale gold of Emet-Selch’s eyes before your own squeezed shut, your mouth falling open and expression opening up with bliss as you came. He didn’t let up. Not his grip on your horn or the hand filling the room with the obscenely wet squelch of each thrust. Emet-Selch watched you the entire time, you knew that even without looking. You could feel his eyes burning into your skin as pleasure burst and shook through your core, clouding your head, drawing your limbs painfully taut.  

Eventually Emet-Selch’s hand stilled. He released your horn as you shook and panted, writhing in his lap, softly petting your hair from your face. For the first time, you realized that you had been grinding against his erection. That made your inner walls flutter around the fingers he still hadn’t pulled out, heat and shame and need coursing through your veins. When he curled them again, your body jumped, your eyes meeting his. 

Emet-Selch was smirking. With sharp shadows draped beneath his cheekbones and eyebrows and his pale eyes smudged with kohl, he looked every bit the cruel Ascian you feared. Why that would make your pussy tighten around him all over again, you didn’t care to think.

“You make for quite the spectacle,” he told you. Some sort of admonishment jumped to your tongue, but Emet-Selch cut that off with another curl of his fingers. It was so easy for him to make your hips jerk with each little press against that spongy spot inside of you, your pussy dripping around his hand. Your body was aflame and you needed more in a desperate, animal way and it was amusing to him. 

You mumbled something with a frown, looking away. Your voice was tired and slurred, incomprehensibly thick from all the saliva that had gathered on your tongue. 

“I suppose that will have to do, my patience is nigh exhausted as well,” Emet-Selch said, pulling his fingers out of you with a shamefully slick sound. 

He was gentle in adjusting you from his lap, letting you fall, boneless and trembling, onto the bed. You didn’t fight it, your body almost tangibly pulsing with each heavy thump of your heart. Distantly, you realized the chains holding your ankles were gone.

“Now then, how shall we do this? Endearing as it is, your diminutive stature does limit our options,” he said, getting out of his boots and removing the last of his clothes. Though he spoke casually, Emet-Selch was all confidence, looking no more vulnerable naked than he did in full dress. While you’d expect a man who looked to be around double your age to be flabby and soft, Emet-Selch was not. Of course he wasn’t, of course he would insult you with lithe muscle and planes of flawless pale skin. In contrast, the trail of black hair following below the line of his abdomen was striking, although your eyes would be drawn to his erection anyway. 

If you were of a sound mind, you would have balked at his size. As it was, all you could do was stare, more saliva pooling in your mouth, your inner walls clamping down around the painful emptiness left by his fingers. 

“Have you any thoughts on the matter?” Emet-Selch prompted, bracing himself back on the bed to move towards you, forcing your gaze back upward. 

“Um…” 

“Have you any thoughts at all?” he asked derisively, the tone softened by his amusement. 

“I do,” you said, your eyebrows knitting. “I…” You trailed off, having to swallow against your swollen throat, your eyes once more drawn to his body. He was going to touch you. Emet-Selch, the enigmatic Ascian, was going to fuck you. Clarity came in a sharp little burst, the single, crystal clear thought that this was very very very wrong. 

“I thought so,” Emet-Selch said, grabbing your ankle. “Let us keep things simple. I’d hate to overwhelm you.” 

You thought about asking what he meant, but the words floated from your head like smoke as his hands trailed up your body, curiously sliding over the scales covering the outside of your legs before seeking out the more sensitive skin on the top of your thighs. Rather than delve between your legs like you half wanted, he grabbed your waist and pushed you up the bed. Emet-Selch’s hands were so warm, a heat unlike the sweaty blaze burning beneath your skin. Real, radiant heat. And big, his thumbs meeting right above your belly button. It wasn’t difficult for him to manhandle you around, you were ungainly and loose limbed and he was far bigger and stronger. You may as well have been a doll in comparison. 

“What’re y-”

“Up,” Emet-Selch told you, pressing against your hips. The gentle, authoritative tone had you obeying without thought, allowing him to wedge a pillow beneath you. To give himself a better angle. At this point, desire was anxiety. You panted with it, your chest rapidly rising and falling, your body over sensitized and mind swimming. 

Emet-Selch called your attention back to him, his hand tracing from the base of your horns down your neck, fingertips dragging across the pattern of scales until his hand could settle around your throat to hold you still while he positioned his hips between your open thighs. His cock settled hot and heavy against your abdomen, giving both of you a view of how deep within you he would be. When you met his eye, he smirked. “There’s a good girl.” 

The praise had you shaking despite the liquid heat scorching through your veins, nerves and excitement and need and a thousand other disorienting emotions consuming you along with the smoldering need tugging painfully deep within your core. A shudder ran down your spine, a dark thrill, your lips parting to exhale a shaky sigh and eyelashes fluttering. 

“I must admit,” Emet-Selch said. “I don’t mind this side of you.”

You shifted, eyebrows knitting in protest to his words because, even still, a part of you recognized that you shouldn’t have been accepting this. But then Emet-Selch looped his arms beneath your knees to push your thighs towards your chest, exposing your aching pussy and the discontent was gone. 

“Will you beg, oh bold and brave hero?” he asked softly, excited now. Your breath caught when you felt the tip of his dick between your legs, slipping against your arousal-slick flesh. Blood flushed through your head when he bumped your clit, dragging along a tumultuous wave of dizziness, and another when he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. 

A little sound built in your throat, your thighs twitching. You shook your head, although you weren’t sure if you were denying his question or what was about to happen. 

“I think you will,” Emet-Selch said. “Shall we find out?” 

The first feeling of his cock pushing into you brought the visceral reality of your situation to the forefront, your body so intensely sensitized that you swore you could feel his heartbeat tingling through your horns. Or it was your own, echoed back by the hand that had returned to loosely grip you by the throat. This position allowed you to watch him disappear into you ilm by ilm, taking it slow to help you adjust. Not that it mattered. There wasn’t enough air, not enough reason left in your head to do anything other than focus on the way your pussy had to stretch to accommodate him. Your entire body had to shift to allow Emet-Selch to selfishly claim it. From some distant place, you recalled hearing him pontificating about his time as a conqueror with all the pompous ego of an Imperial. But that thought disappeared just as quickly as every other in the confused tangle of your mind, although not before it could make you shudder with some intoxicating blend of disgust and pleasure. 

Unlike with his fingers, there was resistance. Proof of your lack of recent partners. Then again, it was also him. A simple matter of size. Feeling the intimate, pinching bite of pain made you whimper, your inner walls tensing around his cock like a vice, only accentuating the ache. 

“Slow,” you finally said, pressing a hand to his abdomen so he couldn’t go any deeper. 

“Too much for you, hero?” Emet-Selch asked. You knew he was mocking you, but you nodded anyway, trying to remember how to do so much as breathe. He sighed. “Fine.” 

You relaxed slightly, trying to calm yourself down, senselessly scrambling for an anchor to cling to. As soon as you untensed, he sheathed himself within you fully, using the hold he had on your neck to pull you down at the same time his hips surged forward, harshly making you take all of him as if to punish your resistance. You yelped, holding tightly onto his wrist as your only source of stability. Too much, too deep, too soon, the thick head of his cock hit your cervix and it hurt. 

And it didn’t. Gods only knew that it didn’t. 

You shook your head helplessly, pushing at his arm and stomach as if that would work, your squirming hips only serving to grind against him, making a point of how deep inside of you he was. It felt so good it robbed you of any coherency. Even if you could acknowledge the very real physical discomfort, the only pain was the desperate, blazing need. In contrast, the splitting ache of being too full was a salve. It was beyond what you could fathom, the pleasure and the pain and the fullness and the need and the sight of the man above you. Inside you. 

“Seeing you like this, I almost pity you,” Emet-Selch said, pulling out a little so you could feel how thoroughly he filled you, the way your inner walls had to stretch to accommodate him. “Sapped of strength and stripped of will, empty of aught that elevates you above others of your kind, all you have left to offer is your own need.” Emet-Selch watched your face carefully as he slowly pulled nearly all the way out. When he thrust back in, the movement was smooth. Precise in how harsh he was, ensuring you felt everything and punctuating your helplessness without really hurting you. Your body helped with that, soaking his cock so it emerged shining with the purest evidence of your willingness. You whimpered, beyond crying out, but the way he groaned made any thoughts of actual pain scatter from your head. “To your credit,” Emet-Selch continued, his voice slightly more affected, “you do not disappoint.” 

You whined again and shut your eyes against the dead echo shame, your head tipping further back. At this point, you weren’t so much fighting to pry his hand off of your neck as you were clinging to his wrist with shaking hands. 

Emet-Selch, despite what your animal instinct demanded, took his time. He teased you, pulling out agonizingly slow before pressing forward with the same lack of urgency, dragging you down to meet him halfway. If it weren’t so pointedly unhurried, you might have thought he was being kind, letting you get used to his size. But you knew well enough of Emet-Selch’s games. With your thighs pushed up to your chest and his hand like a collar on your neck, there was little you could do except take whatever he saw fit to give you, to let yourself be manhandled and used at his leisure. Rather than bring relief, each languid stroke kept you panting shallowly, your entire body tense. Each time he drove himself to the hilt, you couldn’t help but moan helplessly, full to the point of shattering. It didn’t matter that Emet-Selch was taking it slow. If anything, your hyper sensitivity and anticipation made you overly aware of every ridge and vein of his cock, your inner walls fluttering as they tried to adjust.  

You opened your eyes to peer up at him through your lashes. He watched you with his eyes half closed and lips parted, a faint flush dying them pink. As if he had been waiting for you to meet his eye, Emet-Selch’s hips aggressively thrust forward. Skin slapped skin, the bed frame knocking against the wall, a sharp yelp ripped from your lips. On the brink of utter madness, the onslaught of pleasure nearly tipped you over. With just a little more stimulation, you probably could have come. He probably knew that too, which was why he immediately stilled. 

“Was that too much?” Emet-Selch asked. The words were strained, but taunting. Playful. He didn’t wait for your answer, pulling out a little before sheathing himself just as deep, rolling his hips so you could feel the weight of him inside of you, your pussy fluttering around him. Your back arched despite yourself, a pathetic whimper leaving your lips. “Hm?” he prompted. 

You swallowed hard, your throat working against his palm. “N-no,” you gasped, trying to maintain some sense of coherence. “I-I want-”

Emet-Selch did it again, slamming his cock into you hard enough to make you cry out all over again, your words cut off sharply. When he slowly pulled out, the sound was beyond lewd. Even compared to other heats, you didn’t think you’d ever been this wet. 

“Tha-s-” 

He cut you off with another series of sharp thrusts, hard and quick enough to leave your mind blank of anything else. Emet-Selch was still toying with you, watching how you reacted. “This is what you wanted, is it not?” he asked. Although the words were labored, they were entirely lucid. Mocking you. 

“‘s too-too…” you began with a sense of helpless panic, unable to force words out. If he had been moving at a glacial pace before, this was a volcanic flare. So aggressive, so harsh, so deep. Your eyes rolled back, your blunt nails scratching at his arm.  “Too-too-”

“Too… what?” Emet-Selch asked, punctuating the word by driving himself as deep into your cunt as he could and holding you there, his fingers tightening around your neck to keep you from moving. Whenever your hips jerked you could feel the heavy head of his cock grind against your cervix.

“Don’t,” you whined, trying to move your hips to force him to move again. The raging storm of needing more crashed against the teetering edge of stimulation and you had no idea what to do, how to interpret it. “I-I want-”

“You want?” Emet-Selch asked, cutting you off. Your anxious eyes met his, wide and wet. 

“I-I… need…”

His lips quirked. “Beg.” 

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please, I just wanna… Please, Emet-Selch?” 

“Do you want me to make you come again?” he asked, rolling his hips. The slick sound only heightened your need, the pressure making you shudder with pleasure. 

“Yes. Please,” you begged, uncaring of how you sounded. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for the tantalizing sparks of relief. “Please, I want you… I want you to come inside of me. Please, I need-” 

He smiled, cutting you off with a frustratingly casual thrust. “Ah, yes. The compulsion of an omega,” Emet-Selch said, sounding far too happy with the idea. “You wish for me to breed you, is that it? To claim your womb as surely as I have claimed your flesh.” 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Gods, yes. Please, please-” 

“You, hero, are mine. Mine to take, mine to breed, mine to use however I so wish,” Emet-Selch said, cutting you off. Each word was punctuated with a hard thrust, his voice tight with strain rather than humor.

You were, at this point, not at all aware of what you were saying. Agreeing, probably. Begging just like he asked. 

His hand finally left your neck, dragging down your heaving chest, across your stomach and to your abdomen where it settled flat. The span of his fingers bridged between either ridge of your hip bone, his hand oppressively big in comparison to you. Normally that might have been distressing, but the added pressure was so sweet you knew you were crying, drool dripping from your moaning mouth. Could he feel his cock poking against his palm like that? You felt as if you could, helpless beneath the dual pressure with Emet-Selch claiming you from inside and out. Although you had been hoping his fingers would find your clit, that pressure was all it took to throw you over the edge. The building pleasure that had been not so gracefully pulling tight within you snapped harshly, hotly. Your cunt squeezed hard around his cock, your hips helplessly bucking up and down in a desperate bid to get more, to take him deeper. 

Emet-Selch didn’t stop as your back arched and you shook apart, your hands scrambling for traction in the sheets, your tail beating weakly against his leg. For a few moments, it was just liquid gold and raw, carnal stimulation. That abated, but there was no coming down from that high. The purely physical release faded, but the flames did not. He was still hot and hard inside of you and you wanted to feel him come as you had never wanted anything in your life. 

“Please, Emet-Selch,” you plead, breathless. He probably couldn’t even understand you, your words stuttering with each harsh thrust. “Please come inside of me. Breed me. Please, please, Emet-Selch. I’m yours, so please-”  

Something you said, however much of it he was able to make out, made Emet-Selch’s lips part in an honest groan, his jaw tensing and eyes lowering to slits. Both hands gripped your hips to drag you down onto his cock in time with each thrust, fucking you hard and fast and without any sort of tempo. Using you to chase his own end. 

When Emet-Selch came, his breathing was little more than a rough drag littered with low noises of strain. His head fell back in ecstasy, dark eyelashes fluttering and the tendons in his neck pulling taut. He was beautiful. The sensation—and sight—of feeling him come, his cock buried as deep into you as possible, drew another shuddering, blazing orgasm from your body. Feeling the sharp snap and flush of sensation through your core shocked you, causing your hips to jerk against his. Emet-Selch gasped and it sounded like surprise, catching unsteadily in his chest as his eyes jumped down to yours. Fingers digging into your hips to keep you in place, he gave you a final few sharp, deep thrusts. Not that you had it within you to move, pulled taut as a bow string and sizzling with pleasure as he fucked his cum into your womb, breeding you just like you needed. 

Emet-Selch’s hips stilled eventually, his cock twitching within your quivering inner walls. While your breathing was dangerously erratic, his was deep and hard. With a final look over your sweaty, flushed body, he pulled out. The sensation made you whimper. Your inner walls tightened and fluttered, instinctually trying to keep his cum from spilling out. A silly thing, considering you couldn’t be impregnated by this. But instinct was instinct, and your animal brain only wanted to be bred. 

He sighed heavily, laying beside you. It wasn’t comfortable, not when you were slick with sweat and still trying to figure out how to breathe, but it was oddly peaceful, although part of that was your complete lack of coherency. The two of you laid there for a long moment, you weren’t sure how long. Time had little meaning when you were trying to reconstruct the world around you. Not that you thought you could attain sanity, not while you were in heat. The most you could want was the capacity to speak because now that your needs were momentarily satiated, you had a single concern. A fear, really. Your body was appeased for now, but not for long. 

Nervously, shyly, you looked at Emet-Selch. Though he was laying down and completely unclothed, he didn’t look any less imperious or invulnerable. There was a coldness to him, something you hadn’t ever truly noticed before. 

“Are you going to leave?” you asked, hating how small your voice sounded, hating how badly you didn’t want him to go. And dizzy, and affectionate. Just a little bit, a grand swell of genuine madness that stole your mind while you were in this vulnerable state. 

“Mayhap I should,” Emet-Selch said, his head tilting casually. You pulled in a sharp breath, your fingers curling into his bicep as if that would somehow keep him with you. He peered at you out of the corner of his eye, the corner of his lips quirking. “Of course, I could be convinced otherwise.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Emet-Selch sat up, looking far less disheveled than he had any right to. You yelped when he flipped you onto your stomach, and again when he pulled you by the tail to keep you from lurching away from him. But you didn’t have it in you to struggle when he pulled you against his chest. His breath splayed over the scales on your neck, raising the fine hairs across your skin. 

“N-oh-” Your attempted objection cut off with a heavy moan when his hand dipped between your legs, gathering up the cum that had dripped out of you and pushing it back into your sensitive pussy. You whined, squirming weakly.

“Will you beg once more?” Emet-Selch asked softly, playfully. His fingers teasing your neglected clit to make you writhe in his arms. “All you need do is ask that I remain. Beg that I smother the flames that blaze so bitterly within you. Do that, and I shall be more than happy to oblige.” He paused, letting those words sink in. “What say you, hero?” 

A pathetic sound left your mouth, your fingers digging harshly into the arms that held you in place. Between the pleasure and shame, you weren’t sure which one had your skin burning hotter. But even if you hesitated, you knew that you would do exactly as he asked. And he knew it too. 

“Please, Emet-Selch,” you breathed out, a tremor in his name.

You could feel his smile even if you couldn’t see it, feel the smug expression of victory. “Come now. Is that truly the best you can do?”  

#ffxiv emet selch #emet selch #emet selch x reader #ffxiv #not sfw #my writing #tw.dubcon

[owlespresso]

lilac velvet emet-selch and ascian!hythlodaeus

tags: fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, sense deprivation, degration

this is a continuation of a kinktober piece from this october! 2k+ more words have been added onto it.

Your lips tremble. Your breath comes out in soft, stuttery little gasps as you come to grips with yourself. The black strap of fabric covering your eyes is silky smooth, the dark only making the smaller noises more apparent.

Trying to recall how you landed in this situation makes you feel like you’re stumbling through thick smoke, memories slipping through your feeble fingers. What’d happened? Where had you been? It’s too much to recall, your consciousness returning to you in staggered stages.

The pillow you’re resting on is unnaturally warm, and only when it shifts do you belatedly realize that you’re on someone else’s lap. A hand smooths down your side, petting you as though you’re a cat rather than a woman. There’s a bed beneath you, the mattress plush and yielding. Voices, casual and quiet, slowly come into focus as the ringing in your ears dies down.

“Are you awake?” a voice, soft and masculine, questions. It’s familiar, but the daze you’re stuck in prevents you from placing where you’ve heard it before. A hand seals around one of your ankles, the warmth of a hand jolting you from your foggy stupor. You jolt with a gasp, floundering in place. Your hands have been bound at the wrists, arms straight in front of you. “Oh, darling, it’s alright—”

“Now look what you’ve done,” the man whose lap you’re perched in grumbles. The hand on your side clamps down tight, knocking a weary wheeze from your lungs.

“W-What’s going on?” you rasp, breaths coming quick and heavy as the reality of the situation settles in. Fraught with fear, you start wriggling in earnest.

“You needn’t concern yourself with the specificities,” the gruffer voice drawls. The grip on your side refuses to budge.

“Emet-Selch is correct, as always. You needn’t worry about anything at all,” the lighter voice soothes. He draws his hand up your calf in a gentle caress, displacing the loose, soft fabric of your skirt. Hythlodaeus is the name your addled mind supplies. You recall silky, purple locks and eyes gleaming with gentle mirth—unusually cordial for an Ascian. “Calm down, sweetness. We’ll make this good for you.” His thumb rubs circles over your knee, his touch warm and his skin soft.

“I don’t think—”

“Good that there is no pressing need for you to think, then,” Emet-Selch so helpfully informs you. His long fingers slip into your hair and he pulls. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to seal his lips over yours, stealing your breath in a firm kiss. His other hand encircles your jaw from underneath, fastening you in place with a strength you hadn’t expected. Hythlodaeus’s clever fingers wander over the breadth of your inner thigh, tips brushing over your panties, pressing the thin fabric to your moistening slit. You gasp, and the man stealing your breath takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, tongue chasing yours, unyielding and fervent.

You’re dizzy and breathless by the time he parts from you, eyes wide behind the dark satin of the blindfold.

“All you need to do is lay back and feel. Surely even you can manage that?” Emet-Selch’s demeaning nonchalance should, by all means, incite you into further rebellion. But the bindings around your wrists thrum with an enchantment, some sort of spell you can’t quite recognize. It siphons your aether at the slightest attempt at spellcasting, but you’re not able to observe its properties for long. Hythlodaeus strokes a clear line up your slit, and your lips fall open around a silent moan.

“There’s a good girl,” Emet-Selch croons, like he’s humoring an incredibly stupid animal instead of a human being. A gloved thumb gently teases your clit, your back coaxed into a senseless arch by the rush of pleasure. “It’s much more pleasant when you behave, isn’t it?” The pointed remark sparks the beginnings of righteous indignance within you, but the emotion is severely dampened. Fear and confusion and rage fall to the wayside underneath Hytthlodaeus’s fingers.

It’s wrong—you should be fighting tooth and nail to get free—but your limbs feel heavy and each breath feels like a long mile.

“I, for one, agree with our most esteemed Emet-Selch,” Hythlodaeus prattles teasingly, tips of his slender digits teasing your entrance. The noises are squishy and embarrassingly loud—how did you get so wet, so quickly? Your breath comes in soft pants, your head tilting from side to side as you hopelessly attempt to evaluate the situation further. A soft pair of lips presses at the underside of your jaw, brushes down the column of your neck. A shiver rolls down your spine as he slides one, slender digit inside of you. Your gasps become low whimpers of discomfort, hips squirming as you attempt to parse all you feel.

You’re not supposed to be here. They’ve taken you, they’re touching you without your consent, they—

Emet-Selch’s hand squeezes the bottom side of your jaw, and that’s all the warning you get before he’s upon you lips pressed to your own with purpose.

“Try to relax,” Hythlodaeus purrs, a mote of sympathy folded into his voice. His thumb circles your clit, wrenching an absurd little sound from your occupied lips. Emet-Selch’s tongue licks inside of your mouth, suffocating heat of him making it near impossible to think clearly. Somewhere above you, Hythlodaeus hums in approval. “We’ll make it worth your while.”

You shudder as heat licks up into your belly, Hythlodaeus’s slim fingers petting your warm walls. He draws figure eights, obscene shapes that make you twitch and sigh. You can’t help but flutter around him, each drag of his touch bringing another increasingly pornographic sound from in between your legs. It practically fills the room, interwoven with your own labored pants and feeble attempts to reign your reactions in. Beneath the blindfold, hot, fat tears brim in your eyes and threaten to wet the dark fabric. 

“Oh, poor darling,” Hythlodaeus coos. A pair of plump lips press against your stomach, leading a slow trail up to your chest. You breathe out of time, pulse throbbing wildly as you sense him loom closer and closer to your face. You can’t see him, but the ambient, alive pulse of his aether is a presence in itself. It washes over your weighed down body, even as Emet-Selch shifts behind you, settling you in between his legs rather than across his thighs. 

“Come here, pretty,” the architect murmurs, affording you a brief compliment as he hooks his hands under your arms, dragging you to rest on his chest. The action pulls you promptly off of Hythlodaeus’s prying fingers. 

The whine you bleat out is automatic. Disgraceful. 

The two of them have yet to chase all your inhibitions away, leaving you with the hot sting of shame as you wonder what your comrades would think, should they see you mellowed so easily by a few well-placed touches. Emet-Selch is solid and warm behind you, firm muscle packed beneath the lavish robes he saunters around in. You never would have guessed. But maybe you should have.

A pair of cool lips presses to the crook of your neck, soothing your sweat-slicked skin. You’re not sure where to focus—the slow slide of your skirt and wet panties down your legs, or the bitter sting of Emet-Selch’s teeth against your throat. Your voice pitches into a reedy little whine, wiggling absentmindedly against his torso, trying not to pant. For your troubles, you get a nip to the tip of your horn, his canine prodding sharply at the firm scale.

“Settle down,” Emet-Selch 

“It’s not like she can help it,” Hythlodaeus says, before you feel one of his hands nestle in the crook of your knee. He hooks it over one of his slender shoulders, breath brushing warm against the inside of your thigh. “I struggle to think of anyone who could keep their head when under the discerning gaze of our most esteemed architect.” he blandishes, only the barest hint of mockery coloring his otherwise fond voice.

All smoke and mirrors, these two. No matter how ardently they profess their desire to be transparent, you can’t—

“Nonsense. I’m sure the fabled Warrior of Light can tolerate this and more.” Emet-Selch scoffed. 

—trust a single thing they say.

Yet still, your blood sang with fervent desire, stoked by fingers and lips and the unyielding, firm wall of muscle at your back. Trapped between them, as brightening as it is, fills you with a strange sort of primal thrill. Like the familiar rush of near death, levin rolling beneath your skin as Hythlodaeus’s tongue presses to the crux of your inner thighs, prompting you to give a shout of surprise.

You jerk in Emet-Selch’s hold. His wide palm takes hold of your jaw, fingers spanning across your cheek to turn your head. He seizes your voice with a bruising kiss, edge of his canine prodding your bottom lip. You whine into his mouth and jerked in his hold, feeble to resist the smooth roll of Hythlodaeus’s nimble digits. Your hips roll into his mouth, the flat of his tongue running up the seam of you to tease your clit. 

His free hand dips beneath your bottom, wedging between you and the sheets to curl around your tail. Even the slightest touch to such a sensitive area is enough to have you panting, but the string of noises you let out when he pulls is the most humiliating yet.

And Emet-Selch greedily swallows every one.

It’s too much, all too much, the endless rolling flame within you licks up into your belly. The string thin thread of your control slips between your fingers and snaps, cunt gushing cum sweet and sticky on his tongue. He fucks you through it, hits spots deeper than you could ever reach on your lonesome. Your horror burgeons as one climax bleeds into another, another flood of white hot pleasure wrenching a hunted, desperate sound from your swollen lips.

 It’s at that moment that Emet-Selch sees fit to grant you air. Your ankle presses against Hythlodaeus’s back, and you gasp into the open air, pleasure sparking into something white hot and unbearable.

“Hythlodaeus! Stop! Sto—op!” you choke, voice broken between heavy inhales.

“Mmm, no. I don’t think I will,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice. It’s pressed up against your skin as he breathes you in, roams up the length of your body with kisses and caresses. “How could I possibly stop when you react like that?

You sear in between them as Hythlodaeus changes positions. The mattress on either side of your hips dips underneath his knees as he approaches, but it’s difficult to keep track when Emet-Selch seizes your chest with greedy, groping hands. He pinches your nipples between forefinger and thumb until they’re puffy and sore, draws from you sobs and sighs and whimpers. The rolling tides of pleasure have stripped from you your restraint. 

You nearly forget where you are, who they are—and perhaps it’s better that way. You can pretend this is a loving, teasing tryst between two lovers, even two acquaintances. Anything to avoid the shame of what comes after.

“So energetic—do you sing like this for everyone who pays you attention?” Emet-Selch inquires, giving you another firm squeeze, rolling both breasts with his wide palms and calloused fingers. Your cunt squeezes around the empty space Hythlodaeus has left, slick with your own juices.

“No!”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he says with a breathy laugh. The balmy air brushes up against your horn. You twitch, tilting your head away from his plush lips. He is relentless, of course. He gives chase, teases the tip between his teeth to make you cry out again.

So at last, you submit to the electric thrum between them. Emet-Selch draws his lips up and down the column of your neck, before setting his teeth into your nape. 

“Perhaps it’s simply her first time,” Hythlodaeus hums. The velvet tip of him brushes up against your folds, gathering the drooling wetness. It won’t be enough to fully ease his way inside, you think, whimpering as you angle away from him. “Is it your first time, darling? Has no one truly ever been here before?” He reaches down to smooth the pad of his thumb over your clit. Your thighs jump, your lip worried about near pieces between your teeth.

You stammer, mind struggling to keep up as you feel his tip kiss your entrance. One of his hands pets your thigh as he tilts his hips forward. 

The drag of his cock is bramble and velvet against your walls. He rubs up and down the curve of your side like a lover, working himself inside with short thrusts that still make you clench your teeth. Pain and pleasure prickle alongside each other, the pressure intense rough to make you squirm. You’re not quite sure how you feel about it, but your voice raises into a whine either way.

“Relax,” Emet-Selch murmurs, and there’s a levity to his voice, an indulgence that you haven’t heard from him before. Another hand settles on your lower belly, right above your cunt. Warmth radiates from his palm. It seeps into your skin and makes your muscles relax, urging your war-torn body into steady compliance. You feel liquid, half-aware and disoriented by the lack of vision.

“Oh, twelve—” you gasp.

“Not here right now,” Hythlodaeus reminds you with a breathy little laugh. A sweaty palm cups your cheek and he pecks the other, kissing your nose, your forehead and finally your lips in what you realize is a bid to distract you from the pain. It’s started to ebb, now. Hythlodaeus works his way inside with small, aborted thrusts, until his pelvis presses to the front of your cunt. Filled to the brim.

“There we go,” Emet-Selch coos, not entirely without mercy. He rubs circles into your over warm skin, his other hand returning to your chest. “There’s a love.”

There is no preamble to when Hythlodaeus starts. He simply slips his hips back, and sets a slow, deep pace that has you curling your toes. You moan shakily as he pulls one of your nipples into his hot, wet mouth. He releases it with a pop a moment later, tongue rasping over the oversensitive bud. 

The hands on your body feel everywhere—your chest, your thighs, even your stomach. The hazy heat Emet-Selch provided to relax you makes you feel hazier, jolts of pleasure tinged with 

Your shaking hands perch on his shoulders, dragging him close with a ferocity you hadn’t quite expected. He doesn’t expect it either. The gasp he lets out ends in a breathy, giddy chuckle.

“Finally,” he says, kissing the scales on your face, ravishing your horns with unbridled affection. “You feel so good. So soft for me. I missed this, missed you—” The edge of his voice curls with something forlorn and feral as he pulls out and snaps his hips forward, setting a more punishing rhythm.

“Oh—oh twelve,” you gasp, delirious.

“Don’t be rude,” Emet-Selch chides, amusement curling into his voice. “Hythlodaeus has prepared you so thoroughly. Call his name. Not your false gods, because they are most certainly not listening.” Condescension oozes from every syllable, but  you can’t fully bring yourself to care as Hythlodaeus lets his fervent pace slow. The velvet drag of his cock makes you whimper, hips rolling as if to meet him. He’s dragging this out—stringing you along until you’re completely desperate for him. He presents himself as the kinder, more amicable of the two, but you know what he is, what he’s like.

Yet, you plead with him anyways. “Hythloaeus,” you plead, voice a wobbling warble. “Please, faster—” He cuts you off with a kiss, open-mouthed and languid. Seeking you as the heat in your belly reignites, tongues of flame lashing at your throbbing cunt. Fingers thicker than Hythlodaeus—you hate that you can tell—begin to wander over your clit. Emet-Selch’s touches are long and drawn out, robbing circles onto the sensitive bundle of nerves. He hums at your back, infuriatingly casual, as though you aren’t busy falling to pieces in his arms.

You wonder, briefly, if it is possible to be sundered a second time. The white hot flood of your orgasm sends you hurtling over that edge. Somewhere above you, you can hear Hythlodaeus laugh. His own pace shudders and drags as he nears his own peak, fucking you through yours for his own sick pleasure.

“Fantastic. You’ve done so, so well for me, love,” he says, voice drawn thick and breathless with pleasure. He’s kissing you, again, planting his assuredly soft lips all over your face and chest, teasing your nipples with tongue and gentle teeth. “Everything I wanted, everything I could have asked for—” Affection drips from his voice, saturates it sickly sweet. And then he’s coming deep inside you, painting the walls of your cunt creamy white. It dribbles out of you and onto the bed sheets, gets messy on your thighs.

Limp and gasping for air, you shut your eyes and allow yourself to forget where you are, what you’ve just done. Hythlodaeus rests his forehead on your chest, slumps the long length of his body right up against you, as though still desperate to feel every inch.

Beneath you, Emet-Selch stirs.

“Had fun, did we?” he drawls. His long fingers come to rest on the curve of your hip as he tuts in mock disapproval. “You’ve exhausted him. Perhaps I should thank you ”

“I didn’t…”

“Mean to? Of course not,” Emet-Selch says, shifting out from behind you. “I planned on having him later. It wouldn’t do to overexert him, so it seems you will just have to do.”

#emet selch/reader #hythlodaeus/reader #ffxiv/reader #hythlodaeus #emet selch x reader #ffxiv tag

[bakubunny]

thinkin abt sweet, tender sex with emet-selch.… he can be as rough and mean as you could ever want, it’s true. there’s a cruelty about him, and he relishes in it…. but once you get past that, he’s so… loving. tender. passionate. there’s simply no other way to describe it. he’s not always gentle in those moments, but he can be.

emet-selch goes slow, pushes so deeply into you that the room spins and your eyes roll as he laces your neck with soft kisses. he holds you by the face when he kisses you on the lips, almost desperate to know that you’re there with him. he needs you to look him in the eye, even if it’s uncomfortable and there’s nothing to say, even if the only sound is that of your whining moans and uneven breath or the wet sound of each thrust of his hips. he needs to gaze upon the depth of who you are and know that you see the same of him. you are the only person who exists in that moment, and without your eyes on his, he sometimes fears he might fall apart. he aches to hold you close, to whisper the sweetest somethings in your ear, because with him, what he says is never nothing. he’s been longing to love and be loved for many a millennia, and he wishes it to be nothing shy of profound and all consuming.

xiv gremlins: @zazter-den @neon-gothicc

#my crotchety disaster husband needs love #bakubunny #millennialmagicalgirl #emet selch #emet selch x reader #emet selch x wol #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #x reader #ffxiv smut

[cinnabun-faerie]

Could I please have some slight angst but mostly fluff headcannons for Thrancred, Emet-Selch, Esteninen, Artoirel, Aymeric, Zenos and Uriganger with an s/o who was doing a quest in the afternoon but it took longer then the s/o thought so they were on the way home at night but fell and sprained their ankle so when they arrived home it was noticeable that the s/o was hurt by the way she was limping? Thank you in advance 😊😊😊

A/N: I think a lot of this shows how nervous I am and how nervous/worried I think these characters can be. Thank you so much for the request by the way!

Artoirel

He would probably scold you as soon as you arrived home

of course, he was worried for you

you were his main concern

and seeing you hurt, it bothered him

he would ask you what happened and call for healers

"Why did you not call me? If something should happen to you-"

"Nothing happened though-"

"But should something have happened, I would not know what to do."

it was not often he seemed so vulnerable

so much had happened

he had not and probably not recover from the death of his brother

so much he could have said; there was so much regret

and with you at the heart of most of Eorzea's dangerous missions, there was worry growing within him each passing day

you were so dear to him and you knew that

he wouldn't hesitate to tell you just how much you meant to him

but his biggest fear was that you would not come home

it was a possibility

and you both had talked about it, the what ifs for both of you

"Artoirel?"

"I'm happy to have you home, by my side."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Aymeric

He knew that your job as the Warrior of Light was dangerous

He had seen you in action first hand

but it didn't mean that he didn't worry

of course he worried

constantly

and he was always relieved when he saw you

however, his worry skyrocketed when you didn't come home

you two had arranged to have a date night

naturally, he knew that being late was probable

it happened and he couldn't fault you for it

but as the sun set and the moonlight shined through the window, he couldn't help but think of the worst

he battled the thought that you might never walk through the door and he would be sent news of you death

surely, that was not the case

you were strong

no matter how bad things got, you always came on top

surely this would be no different

imagine his relief when you walk through that door to your home

the breath he had let out, not realizing that he'd been holding it

immediately, you would be in his arms

he would thank the gods that you were safe

but he wouldn't miss the way you moved cautiously on your feet

the way you winced when you tried to put pressure on your foot

he wouldn't hesitate to scoop you up and look you over

he would silently scold himself for not doing it when you first arrived

but he had missed you so

"I'll call a healer immediately."

"Aymeric, it's really not that bad."

Emet-Selch

He was worried

but he'd never let you know that

or at least he'd try not to let you know that

you said you would be back before dark

and now it's after dark and you're not home

sure, you could have been catching up with Hythlodaeus

you could be if he wasn't already waiting on your couch talking Emet's ear off

complaining why you weren't home yet

"You're worried too, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're on about. Why would I be worried?"

It's not like he was going through different scenarios in his head of what could be happening

You could have stopped by to see Venat

or you could have stopped by to see the animals or gods forbid, visit everyone that you haven't seen in ages

cause it's not like it hasn't happened before

but you could be hurt

and if you were, why not call on him?

he would be there no matter what

even if he says that he won't answer

but you know him better than that, right?

so when you finally walk through the door, he puts on his big complaining-pants on

"What took you long?"

ah yes, him telling you that he could have been asleep by now, but no, he and Hythlodaeus just so happened to agree to wait up for you

"Do you ever notice that Emet-Selch never goes to bed without you?"

Hythlodaeus is out here saying things that shouldn't be said

but Emet-Selch had noticed you were hurt immediately when you walked in, despite the marathon he was running with his mouth

and he would be quick to examine you

and get you healed and bandaged up

"Thank you. For worrying and taking care of me."

"Well someone has to do it."

He wouldn't admit it, but he surely wouldn't let anyone else take care of you like this

he wanted to and needed to

just like he needed to hold you all night long

"I'll leave you two alone for the night."

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Hythlodaeus."

Estinien

He knew that you'd simply get home whenever you walked through the door

It was the same for both of you

however, with you being gone so long, he wondered if something had gone wrong

no doubt that you'd figure it out, you always did anyways

but he should have come to help you

but you assured him that you could handle it

so when you walked through the door, limping, he would be quick to react

he would help you sit down before asking what had transpired

you had told him that you had Alphinaud heal most of your injuries but your leg would need more healing over time

it wouldn't be unlike him to then forbid you from anymore missions that would make anything worse

he would take over anything that you are to do at least until your leg is better and not a moment sooner

"Just because you may feel fine, doesn't mean your body is fine."

he would make sure you were completely comfortable in bed before he too relaxed beside you

Thancred

Thancred cannot simply stay still

not when it was starting to get dark

his mind had been wandering

perhaps something had happened to you

but no one notified him, so surely everything was okay

but he couldn't help but worry sick about you

he debated whether or not he should go out and look for you

what if you were in a ditch somewhere?

what if this time, after all you've been through, you are defeated

but that's when you walk through the door, limping

he's at your side instantly

he's helping you, yes but he is also scolding you and asking what happened

he's almost breathless by the time you get a word in

"Thancred, I'm fine really-"

"You have cuts all over and you are limping. I'm calling for Urianger. Don't move a muscle."

when all is said and done, and you're healed by Urianger, you cuddle your worried boyfriend for the rest of the night

and you listen to his worries and try your best to assure him

Urianger

Naturally he was worried

It was now nightfall and there was no sign of you

He would have an inkling that something was wrong

and rather than waiting at home for possible bad news, he would leave the house to go and look for you

you knew that he wasn't one to sit still once he was sure something was wrong

so you couldn't blame him when he suddenly appeared in front of you as you struggled to limp back home

he wouldn't ask questions, he would just sigh in relief and smile at you

"Urianger? Were you worried about me?"

He might not respond immediately as he would be more concerned about you injuries

and you would see his worry in his hands as they shook as he healed you

or when he was careful of your wounds, touching you almost as you could break

"Gladdened am I that you are alright."

He would carry you back home ever aware that you probably could walk home on your own

but when he was worried like this, you just let him

it was a comfort for both of you to be close to your partner

Zenos

He'd be more annoyed that you didn't come home when you said you would

but apart from that, he'd be sure nothing was too wrong

you were tough

hell, you were his equal

there was no way you wouldn't come back from a little mission

right?

there may be a ounce of worry within him

if anything had happened to you, Eorzea would have several hells to pay

he might even pace a little when it starts to get dark outside

naturally he'd be thinking of ways to get his revenge and avenge you, his one and only love

but before his brain could dive into insanity at your hypothetical death, you walk through the door limping

he stops his pacing and practically runs to you, stopping short to examine you

he may have to plan some revenge anyways

you are hurt beyond the usual

how did this happen?

who had done this to you?

No matter, why not tell him what happened as he does his best to bandage you up

he would be ever so gentle as he takes care of you

while he was not a healer, he at least knew what to do when it came to wounds and cuts

#ffxiv #grey's asks #ffxiv headcanons #artoirel x reader #aymeric x reader #emet selch x reader #estinien x reader #thancred x reader #urianger x reader #zenos x reader

[micropoe10]

~~DIRTY WORK~~

I have told myself for weeks I was going to write a wholesome PG fanfic...I told my friends that I wasn't going to write smut, I wasnt going to be lewd......

That I can write sfw stories....BUT FUUUUUUCK.... I've never simped for someone in this game before...but THIS MAN!!!! mmm MMMMMPH....

And all yall with your NSFW artwork and stories.....pleaseeeeeee pleaseeeeee somebody write me some smut, some degrading, sexy emet smut. Litterally anything would work.

Somebody do my "Dirty Work" so I can stay "Pure" 😅😅😅 send help and more Emet-Selch.

#emet selch x reader