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killingdove · 1 year

Note

could we perhaps get some headcanons for the ishgardian trio realizing the moment they fell for the reader/wol 👀👀👀

ishgardian trio ➳ — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

A/N: ooh i love this request so much!! i hope these are to your liking dearest anon ♡

𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐘𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

it was in the way you sliced not only your foes but the way you sliced through the air as well when you were in battle

you may or may not worship halone but either way you were clearly bestowed the gift of combat prowess by her grace

when you’d have sparring matches together, estinien would never go easy on you as he finds that disrespectful but you knock the breath out of him physically and metaphorically whenever you win

there was a day where the practice match ended in you managing to get estinien’s back to fall atop the ground and you were pointing your weapon’s tip at him proudly from your standing position

“don’t tell me you’ve gone easy on me, wyrmblood,” you smirk

estinien stares up at you with wide eyes as he feels his heart skip a beat

but he quickly schools his elegant elezen features into his usual scowl

“of course not. who do you take me for?”

laughing, you help him up and he swears the contact between your hands ignited something within him, something different and incomparable to nidhogg’s rage that he felt all the time

he comes to find your laugh is like music to his ears

he also realizes he wants to hear more of the sound, and he uses that dry humor of his to elicit more of them from you from that day onwards which results in more small smiles from him

he’s doomed

𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄

when he wrote and poured his heart into the missive that would later grant you and the scions access to ishgard, he stopped at one point after going on a spiel about you in ink

he had unwittingly went on to sing your highest praises and much of it read like a love letter

it was during his reminiscing of your good deeds as he wrote did he realize the pure adoration and emotion he felt for you

haurchefant gets embarrassed by himself, a blush rising to his cheeks as he sets the paper aside to start anew

he was nervous such a prodigious hero as yourself would not return his feelings

not only that but he did not want to risk his father blabbering about the contents of the missive to you

later, he sees you that day and feels his stomach doing somersaults

you were just so radiant, bringing hope and happiness wherever you tread

“be still my beating heart…” he mumbles to himself before he approaches you with a smile

as usual, he was his jovial and enthusiastic, caring self

but if one were to look closely enough, the dead giveaway of his love for you was evident within his eyes as they’d crinkle at the corners with his genuine smiles

𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐋

he had always admired you from the moment he started following your expeditions and learning of your successes

but he never knew the extent of how deep his feelings ran for you as time had passed with working with you

it wasn’t until he invites you for a one-on-one dinner within the Borel manor

that evening he got to know you better, and the back and forth conversations you had over steak and wine did nothing but stoke the flames of his growing love

when the topic had shifted to romance, he felt heat circulating within his cheeks

the way you talked about your past lovers however, caused a different heat within him; one that bespoke of jealousy

it was an ugly feeling that twisted him on the inside, one he was not quite familiar with but nevertheless he hid it well

he had asked what you found attractive in a partner eventually totally for the sake of carrying conversation and not because he was curious to see if he was the warrior of light’s type nooooo

aymeric found himself comparing his likeness to your standards and it suddenly hit him with startling clarity mid-way through rejoicing internally that he shared your type’s physical attributes

uh oh

the concern on your face when he lets his mask slip for just a moment makes him fall even harder for you if anything

with his newfound revelation, he says nothing is amiss and diverts your attention towards sharing your experiences with beastmen

all the while he’s screaming inside

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cinnabun-faerie · 1 month

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Estinien x Reader: Who would say "I love you" first?

Honestly, I could see Estinien being the first to say it

but it could go either way

it would garner similar reactions regardless of who says it

whether it is him or you that says it, delivery would be completely random

unexpected

and/or slightly inappropriate time

you might say it when you're around the other Scions

"Estinien, I love you."

and he just malfunctions

his mind kind of goes to space

and it is Krile and/or Tataru that snaps him out of it with a smack to his calf

which honestly could make the man stumble from the force

"Well? Say something! Don't just leave them hanging!"

"If you hurt them, I'll have to sew you into a special outfit you'll never be able to take off."

if he tells you that he loves you, it would be so casually on the battlefield

and it would be in response to something you asked for him in your casual conversation despite the enemies both of you are cutting down

"You're lucky I love you."

you almost get hit by an attack as you bink in shock

your cheeks are red and your heartbeat threatens to burst out of your chest

"Be on your guard!"

"I would but you go and say things like that!"

#ffxiv #ffxiv headcanons #estinien x reader #estinien varlineau

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lovehotelreservation · 6 months

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Thrust System - Trust System [6/7]

Summary: While delving into the depths of a dungeon, you wanted to be sure that your companions were people that you could trust and who would have your back.

In this case, they’d also have your ass too.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Thancred/G’raha/F!Reader/Urianger/Estinien

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]

hello 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

thank you 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

please enjoy 😭😭

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What a journey it had been.

Not only within the maddened frenzy that led up to your time here at the Lunar Palace, but simply overall.

In the span of your adventure thus far–whether through hard-fought victory seized by your unwavering spirit or punishing failure that left you humbled and perhaps even scarred–you learned to adapt to any situation as necessary with the various abilities and skills you had attained and honed, whether on your own or under the wing of a mentor.

If you were going to keep your loved ones safe, this was absolutely crucial.

If Estinien needed to be healed while the others were busy squaring off with the foul creatures of a dungeon, you were ready to conjure Cure to salve his wounds.

If Thancred or G’raha needed more force to send a magitek monstrosity crumbling down, just a wave of your hand to call upon the power of the Ifrit was all you needed.

And it wasn’t to say that you were ill prepared to ever draw the ire of a vicious beast to mitigate its assault and attention away from Urianger while he gathered his magic to raise up a shield for your party.

You were quite handy with a sword and shield, in fact.

However, with no armor, no clothes, only time would soon tell and witness how you were going to withstand this encroaching and relentless barrage that was meant to target you and you alone.

Naked, weakened from being constantly subjected to the whims of your unorthodox prison, flushed and at a loss for breath–you could only do your best to cover your nude form with your hands while you inspected the faces of your dearest companions.

Merely phantoms drawn forth by the palace’s zealots, your giggling and mischievous phantom copies dissipated into the air the moment they set foot into the throne room after fulfilling their goal. A goal that was currently unbeknownst to you, but one that needed no further explanation.

With each step they took towards you, darkened eyes contrasting with the vibrant pink glow of their bracelets, having the four fully focused on your body as they drank in the sight of your present blushing distress made matters become increasingly clear:

One way or another, you were going to be taking on Thancred, G’raha, Urianger, and Estinien.

Considering you looked to be the most level-headed one out of everyone’s crazed states, you could have called each of them to reason, to snap out of their stupor and break free from the influence of the bracelets.

But how could you when your body was the most affected by the palace’s contraptions?

Your companions still had the strength to stand and step forward.

You were left on the floor, wondering and yearning for who would make the first move and finally relieve the ache that was possessing your body.

Would it be Thancred, with his once roguish Casanova ways stirring from slumber to leave you squirming beneath his teasing and experienced touch as he whispered utter filth into your ear before having you bear the might of his thrusts, now strengthened by his might and experience as a Gunbreaker?

With how poor G’raha was at hiding his feelings for you, it would be little surprise if he were to so much as pounce right at you to demonstrate his long-harbored yearning by flooding your core full with his seed.

As for Urianger, you were well aware that even he–with his impeccable grace and immeasurable patience–could only maintain his near saintly composure for so long before he would beseech to bury his face between your thighs.

And certainly not to be forgotten, Estinien deemed you as his partner for a reason and so it was certain that he would make sure that you remember how the shape of his cock would feel inside of you.

The answer as to who would be first and finally bring you relief was not coming fast enough, and thus, after gathering your thoughts, you finally spoke up at last, your voice soft yet heavy with need,

“Will you all help me?”

They replied all at once.

Armor clanked against the floor while a flurry of clothes soon joined, with hungry lips claiming yours and their hands meeting your body even faster.

The four surrounded you, crowding around where you were currently sitting on the floor of the throne room.

Knights to their majesty, disciples to their god–there was reason for this all to transpire within the center of the throne room of the once dignified and anointed Lunar Palace, which had witnessed decades upon decades of this very ritual across time with the likes of nobles, army commanders, to even more daring members of The Forum looking for thrills outside of scrolls and regulation.

Now, it was you and the men you loved with all your heart.

Your lips were claimed by G’raha’s in the neediest of kisses as his tongue was desperate to plunge into your mouth for a sample of your taste. For Estinien, he already had a handful of your breasts, groping your flesh and pinching at your nipples.

Urianger was occupied with kissing along your neck while his fingers–ever experienced with flicking through the cards of his tarot deck–were preoccupied with feathering and circling over your clit. This worked in tandem with Thancred, who had damn near slid across the floor in order to plant his face right in-between your thighs, his experienced tongue dragging and stroking along your drooling core.

A bit of relief for the overwhelming ache that was wracking through your body, which–within your crumbling sense of mind–you sought to return the favor by bringing your hands to grasp at and caress G’raha’s and Urianger’s stiff cocks. And with the added attention of Estinien and Thancred amidst your overwhelmed state, between a few kisses, caresses and licks, it was not long until you were arching your back with a cry as you were brought to orgasm.

The first of many for this ritual.

Especially as Thancred did not hesitate to lift himself up off the ground to kneel before you instead, his fingers reaching for the base of his cock while he readied to slide his thick girth right into your core. A delighted hiss escaped him as he was quickly welcomed by hot, velvety tightness.

“Now this was worth sprinting all over this damn dungeon for.”

His arms wrapping tight around you, Thancred drew your body close against him as he quickly began to push into your core at a vigorous pace, stealing a kiss from your lips as he did so. At the same time, he proceeded to lift you up so he could be the one to lay on the ground instead, keeping you right on top of his toned and chiseled form instead.

With the pop of a bottled salve followed by heavy and heady breath, G’raha coated his dick as fully as he could with the thick and viscous solution, his ears perked and tail swirling with anticipation, all while his crimson eyes were trained on your backside, his heart fluttering at the idea of fantasy becoming reality. Of course, while his mind had long since succumbed to the influence of the Lunar Palace, he still was careful with applying the salve’s contents upon the tight ring of your asshole.

“If relief is what you need, then I gladly pledge to be used at your desire.”

He meant to be more thorough, but the helpless mewl for him to start fucking you from your lips had his mind going blank, his hands clutching at your hips, his lips seeking your neck, and his cock plunging right into your ass. By contrast to Thancred, the pace he began to work himself into was slower yet focused more on pushing in as deeply as he could, wanting nothing more than to savor this sensation, this moment of being one with you at long last.

And certainly, not and never to be left out, Urianger and Estinien were already standing close by, delighting in any kiss from your lips or strokes of your palm upon their dicks. While you were much too preoccupied with getting hammered into by your other companions, they were biding their time for their turn.

Because both were going to devastate you thoroughly.

Over and over, plunging in and out in tandem, it wasn’t long until both Thancred and G’raha were pouring their hot sticky cum inside your core and your ass–the former with a roared curse while the latter with a delighted hiss–as you squealed with your own orgasm.

You sagged right on Thancred’s chest, taking comfort for the touch of his hand stroking your side while G’raha kissed along your shoulder blades.

“Surely, your stamina can go a few more rounds, right partner?”

What you felt next was the warmth of G’raha’s body heat dissipating from behind as he withdrew out from you, just before you found yourself being carried and lifted to be sandwiched upright in-between Urianger and Estinien as they stood, with the former purring out,

“And rest assured, for all that we shalt subject thou to, I will dedicate mine spirit to healing your aches and satisfying your indulgences.”

Estinien’s hands were cradling your ass as he lowered you right onto his long, stiff cock, with Urianger sliding his dick into your core soon afterwards, the two in unison as they speared inside of you at a brisk rhythm.

You scrambled for more support, more contact, more touch. Your arms wrapped around Urianger’s neck as you drew him in for a kiss, which he was more than happy to oblige. Were it not for Estinien’s sturdy arms having hooked beneath your thighs both to help keep you up and to keep your legs parted and open for the two to freely pump their cocks in and out of you, you would have hugged around your darling scholar’s waist as well.

Regardless, you remained spoiled by the stark contrast between the two.

Lips ever so used to speaking in flowery elegance danced upon yours for kisses while teeth that once bore the fangs of draconic possession sought to leave bitten claim upon the side of your neck.

Soft and slender fingers that were more familiar with strumming through countless tomes sought to circle around and toy with your nipples whereas hands that were roughened by a life of harvest and battle continued to cup and grope your breasts.

Trapped in-between Urianger and Estinien as you were made to bounce on their cocks, a glance to the side had you witness Thancred and G’raha hungrily awaiting for your attention while both stroked along the length of their stiff dicks.

What had transpired thus far was merely a sampling.

The true feast was yet to come.

It was by this thought that your eyes rolled, your lips cried, your body trembled.

Right after this orgasm was when time began to blur in overwhelming euphoric delirium.

You could recall the sight of G’raha’s hand grasping at the back of yours as you remained on your hands and knees while he was positioned right behind you, a gasped chant of your name matching the hurried tempo of his thrusts as he continued to pump your core full with his seed without restraint.

At some point you found yourself in the middle yet again, kept standing by Thancred pounding away into you near endlessly from behind, his hands gripping your wrists with ease while your body sagged before him in pleasure all while your mouth was fed with the full length of Urianger’s dick as his fingers stroked through your hair as his breathless praises mingled with Thancred’s cheeky ones.

The sensation of Estinien’s lips smothering yours for kisses was practically etched onto your body, especially as he continued to have you bounce up and down his dick while you were seated on his lap, his hands guiding your pace as they fondled and squeezed your ass.

By this point, the lascivious clutch of the palace’s wicked influence had long since waned. What transpired now and onwards was simply the pursuit of pleasure, the fulfillment of instinct, and–most of all–the release of amorous feelings that had long been trapped away, obscured by a myriad of reasons. Your journey thus far brought you here to seek passage to the moon. Yet as you remained in the center between the four who made your adventure, your life that much more complete, you would only continue to see heaven and its stars over and over again.

---------------

i was originally going to conclude everything on this chapter but i thought it was better to properly wrap things up by adding another piece--esp with how long this chapter had taken to finally be finished and posted ; v ; thank you so much for your patience and i hope to see you all for the conclusion!!!

#thancred x reader #thancred x wol #g'raha tia x wol #g'raha tia x reader #urianger x wol #urianger x reader #estinien x wol #estinien x reader #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #thancred waters #g'raha tia #urianger augurelt #FFXIV #reader insert #Thrust System #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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yukiotacon · 1 year

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Elf husbands poly Valentine's day hcs

You can bet your ass they are gonna have every important meeting about this

Aymeric does the impossible he ........ takes a break * audience gasp *

They have a very thoughtful discussion on what to get you

Unfortunately Aymeric ends up becoming the voice of reason for both Haurchefant and Estinien

Haurchefant going way overboard on the idea of showering you with gift

To which both Estinien and Aymeric have to remind him of last year's incident

Poor Haurchefant unintentionally was the cause of all the delivery moogles to be super tired

Estinien on the other hand is of course terrible with money

Haurchefant literally had to tackle and drag him away from a 200k ribbon for your hair

Aymeric was the one who came up with the plan

Which included

A nice stroll around Gridanian ( Estinien)

Participating in the sweet heart even( Haurchefant)

A nice home cook feast in the Borel manor

It semi when off without ay hitch

Fortunately or unfortunately Haurchefant channeled his inner 2014 heavensturn when he spoke about his partners

Yeah, all three of you were red as a tomato

The dinner was delicious and plentiful

Aymeric made sure to include everyone's favorite food on the menu

When the food was eaten, Haurchefant leans in and whispers " My love do save room for dessert ~" Haurchefant says in a sensual manner

Let's just say dessert was eater inside your shared bedroom and it involves a nice chocolate fountain and fruits platter and three still hungry Elezen men

To all Warriors of light I salute you because good lord you ain't coming out of that bedroom any time soon

Happy valentine's day guys ♡♡♡♡

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estinienbestinien · 1 year

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Ishgard Nights

Estinien x WoL

It feels like every night passes the same in the unruly cold depths of Ishgard. As the internationally beloved Warrior of Light you could have settled anywhere imaginable across the Source, your heart felt pulled towards one frozen and shadowed city.

Ishgard is known for its endless winter, dark nights, and stone-covered paths, but the beauty of the city shines in your eyes as you walk the streets. While the outdoors may be frozen for malms and malms, beyond the eye can see, inside, the fires in the hearth and the company by your side keep you warm.

For someone who is looking to stay out from the watchful eye of the world, a quiet and solemn place like Ishgard is perfect for you. These days you find yourself mindlessly wandering, with this evening being no different. The sun is on the horizon, about to dip below the snow covered hills of Coerthas as you stroll along the streets, admiring the masonry of the Pillars.

Your hood is just barely covering your eyes, your identity is safely hidden from the rest. You wear a long coat, protecting you from the frosty winds that surround the environment around you. Along with your scarf, mittens, and high boots, you’re virtually identical to the other sparse souls wandering around.

Trying to stay out of trouble, your weapon has been traded in for a small dagger you keep on you under your coat. Rather than ready for battle you have it on hand for security, but rarely does it see any more action than opening the letters you receive from your friends around the star.

With the final few moments before the sun hides for the night upon you, you find a barren bridge to stand and admire the view from. The view never seizes to enrapture you. Rather than running from tragedy to tragedy, you finally get a moment to stand still and admire the beauty of the star you fought so diligently to save.

Just as the sunlight fades and before it is replaced by the street lamps, you feel a presence slowly emerge beside you. A familiar tall presence that although may appear to be just as covered as you, can’t seem to leave the lance at home. “You know everyone knows who you are whenever you lug that dragonblood-covered lance, right?” Your eyes never leave the horizon as you speak to the tall elezen man next to you.

“As they should.” His gruff voice speaks softly as he now stands right next to you, your side meeting his.

The lamps finally turn on, illuminating the streets and the face beside you with a soft glow. You look up to see the gentle smile on his face, his hair tucked back into his hood. “The presence of my lance isn’t as inviting as some others.”

You roll your eyes and chuckle, turning around to start to walk towards the Forgotten Knight. Before you can take another step, you feel your hand get caught and pulled back to where you stood seconds ago. Pulled into him, he loosely wraps his arms around you to hold you against him, looking down at you with warmth in his eyes. “I just found you and already you want to leave my side?”

You look up at the former Azure Dragoon and rest your forehead against his clothed chest as you let out another laugh with a sigh. “My dear, I never want to leave your side, I simply seek warmth from the freezing lands we call home.”

“Am I not warm enough for you?” He continues to tease, his arms bringing you closer to wrap you in his heat.

You look back up at him with the goofy love-sick smile that always seems to find its home on your lips whenever you are with him.

“You are Estinien, but my love, I would like to shed my coat and have a drink with you near a fire. Would that be to your liking or shall we stay here longer so I may lose more feeling of my face?”

Leaning down to find his forehead against yours, his lips about an ilm away from yours he speaks gently, “Just a moment longer, I wouldn’t want to rush anywhere right now.” He says before he presses his lips to yours. Like a dance you have practiced time and time again with perfect precision, the kiss is comforting and sweet. Contrasting the past you have together, this moment is soft and warm, everything you have clawed your way to achieve.

Right before your breath was fully stolen away from you he pulled away, reintroducing you to the cruel winds of the night. “I’m sure we already have company awaiting us, come now.” Estinien says, taking your hand in his, hiding your interlocked mitts in his coat pocket.

It’s moments like this you remember what you risked everything for.

#estinien wyrmblood #estinien #estinien x wol #estinien x reader #ff14 estinien #ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #i love this man so so much

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stars-and-clouds · 10 months

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Estinien and Diana (WoL, OC) from an upcoming fic I'm working on =3

My comms are open!

Sakura and light & dark are amongst the most prevalant symbology in it. Sakura symbolises change and growth which both the characters need to go through to heal from their troubles. Please look out for it!

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thelaughtercafe · 4 months

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All's Fair In Love And War

Tea Type: Half and Half with a lemon (Tickles with jealousy and some suggestive tickling)

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

Pairing: Thancred x F!Mi'qote! Reader x Estinien

Length: 2.2k+

Summary: A sequel of sorts to my tword headcanons for FFXIV. You can gather it fine from reading, but I’d recommend giving them a gander if you want to get the full picture!

“So , who’s this Estinien fellow Alphinaud told me you bonded with on your travels?”

You flinched, looking behind you to see Thancred with a taunting grin on his face and glittering eyes. You hadn’t even heard him enter House Fortemps. It hadn’t been long since you’d found him and healed the Dragoon in question from Nidhogg’s all encompassing affliction and seeing Alphinaud’s cheerful grin behind his back you growled his way, ignoring Thancred for the moment.

“You little brat- he hasn’t even been back a full week!”

Your upset only amused him further as the Summoner took a casual sip of his tea, meeting your gaze from over the rim of his book, Refia chirping happily from around his ankles.

“And? I thought it would serve to cheer him up to hear of your exploits. Besides, it felt only right to inform him another was in competition for his affections.”

You went bright red and were left sputtering.

“I-how-whatever gave you that idea?”

Alphinaud’s eyes flicked behind you and he snickered with a hum.

“Oh? Am I wrong then? You’re blushing mighty hard for one meant to be apparently unaffected.”

“I-I don’t have to answer that.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and were surprised as Alphinaud merely shrugged and stood, beginning to leave.

“Alright then. I’ll leave you to it; do try not to kill her, yes? She does have duties to attend to in a day or so.”

With that he was gone and the back of your neck prickled which could only mean…

A hesitant turn of your head and you smiled nervously at Estinien, the unmasked Dragoon staring you down with the faintest of smirks playing on his lips. Thancred looked to be on the verge of laughter at your back.

“…Do I want to ask how much you heard?”

“Much and more than you would’ve liked I suspect, as seems to be customary in our relationship by this point.”

Amusement was thick in his deep voice and you hid your face in your hands as Thancred approached and slung an arm over your shoulder.

“Well I for one, should very much like to know more about this relationship you developed in my impromptu absence."

His grin was sharp and from the tightness of his grip you knew he was the slightest bit jealous of Estinien, not that he’d ever dream of letting the Dragoon know of it.

Estinien, for his part, remained stoic as ever save the smallest of smirks, his eyes taking in all and giving away nothing.

"Hmph. I’m surprised she hasn’t already told you as much. Well, I’ve nothing to hide in any case. I believe she should be the one to tell all, however. What say you to taking this somewhere more private?”

You nodded eagerly, desperate to not be caught by Emmanellain or worse Haruchefant . He’d never let you live it down if he caught you like this and you were already drowning in embarrassment. You looked to Thancred to see his smile had strained thanks to Estinien’s prodding. You opened your mouth to suggest your quarters but Estinien was already opening the door for you all to exit.

“We can retreat to my quarters. The Dragoon barracks are all but abandoned in the wake of our victory and they’ve moved back in with their families. The building is essentially mine to do with as I please, according to Aymeric. No-one will overhear us.”

The walk to the barracks was silent until you broke it, trying to distract Thancred from glaring into Estinien’s back and instead speaking of your other Ishgardian friends and the other Scions alike. That relaxed him and his grip around your shoulder loosened. Even Estinien’s shoulders relaxed and you swore you caught him glancing back with a fond expression more than once.

“I can’t believe Alphinaud truly fell for that hair-dye prank. Alisaie near laughed herself hoarse.”

You playfully nudged him as you entered the barracks.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you stifling laughter too in the corner. You’re not as slick as you like to think, sir thief.”

Estinien opened his mouth to quip and you cut him off with a knowing smile.

“…and you’re not any better. You act all broody but I catch you smirking at Alphinaud and I’s antics all the time so don’t even try to deny it.”

He seemed affronted as he led you both up to his room but by the time he was closing and locking the door he was smirking again.

“True enough. That scene where you laughed yourself hoarse and nearly came from my voice alone was particularly smirk worthy, if I may so.”

The smugness was thick in his voice and you coughed, laughing nervously as Thancred froze.

“Y-You shouldn’t joke like that Estin-”

“Oh I assure you I’m not. Your friend wished to be informed of our relationship. Besides, you and I both know there’s better ways to make you laugh.”

“I’m going to end you. What happened to keeping it secret or regretting it!?”

“I didn’t explicitly say it, now did I? It’s still up to you if you wish to tell him and be punished.”

You sputtered at that in outrage but when you finally looked up at him, the impassive look on his face ensured you stayed silent.

Thancred finally broke his silence, removing his arm only so he could cross them across his chest and stare down at you.

“I see you’ve developed a bratty streak in my absence. Hmph. A pity. We’ll have to see that remedied.”

His eyes glittered in competition and you swallowed, hard.

“Either you tell me plain this little secret you and the Dragoon are dancing around or I’ll deliver a punishment all my own. I suggest you choose wisely which of us you’d prefer.”

His hands moved to his scabbard, and belt deftly removing both and you looked away to see Estinien removing his heavy armor as well, revealing a white t-shirt just underneath along with black sweats.

Great. So you were to choose between a punishment you knew what to expect and one you didn’t. Unfortunately, you really wished their positions were reversed. Estinien wasn’t the type to change his method over jealousy- Thancred was and if you chose to keep your mouth shut you had no doubt he’d have no problem making you regret it. Thancred would never hurt you but he wasn’t the one who typically interrogated your enemies for nothing.

But say you did the opposite, and told? That’d just rile him up more you were sure of it. The fact that you explicitly told Estinien about your little kink before him? When he’d teased you with it for so long while oblivious? Gods you couldn’t take the embarrassment. You risked a glance at Estinien, now fully out of his armor who merely raised an expectant eyebrow in response. Asshole. He was calling your bluff. Of course, all that wasn’t even including the public humiliation of being absolutely wrecked to the point of tears, likely until you safeworded if you told. Like it or not, the choice was made.

“Eyes up here gorgeous.”

You blushed as Thancred drew your gaze back to his, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s it gonna be?”

“…I can’t. I’m sorry Thancred.”

You could feel the way Estinien stood up taller in pride, the huff of laughter under his breath and your cheeks burned brighter as Thancred took you in.

“So it’s to be an interrogation, is it?”

“…that’s not as scary as you make it sound. I know you’d never hurt me.”

You tried to play it off in some vain attempt to make him change his mind but he only shrugged, easily seeing through you.

“Of course not. Pain isn’t the most effective method anyway until the psyches been worn down some. Not that I plan on using that either. No, I think you and I both know what I’m planning to do.”

You tried not to let it show on your face but you were nervous and before you could think better of it, you were pleading your case to Estinien.

“I didn’t tell, aren’t you going to help me? This is your fault after all!”

Estinien snickered, shaking his head.

“My fault? Interesting phrasing. It’s not my fault you’re so frightened of a little tickling by my hands you opted not to confide in your long term friend. The only help you’ll receive is if he asks for it. You’ll like it anyway, I’m sure.”

Your mouth fell open in betrayal.

“But you said-”

“That you couldn’t say anything without punishment. Nothing about my end. In any case, I’d worry about your current situation before it’s too late.”

Your eyes widened and you whirled to look at Thancred but he was already staring back at you with wide eyes.

“By the Twelve… you really…? This whole time? Ha. And here I thought I was imagining things. You really do like it.”

Your eyes moved past him to the window but you startled as Estinien’s long fingers squeezed your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t try it. I’d catch you even if you did manage the jump and Thancred is too quick for you to run towards the door, not to mention it’s already locked.”

He mumbled into your ear, causing you to shiver.

Thancred cracked his knuckles and you flushed, ducking your head but he was there to corner you against the wall just behind, Estinien moving back to let him do as he wished.

His fingertips once again guided your eyes to his and this time he held it.

“Oh no. You’ve hid your reactions from me far too long as it is. I want to savor this. You’re going to tell me, truthfully. Do you like being tickled? Have you gotten off to the idea of me teasing you until you come undone as many times as I wish? Hm?”

The self-satisfied smirk was evident on his lips as you squirmed and just about melted in his arms; already giving him his answer. He’d never seen their Warrior of Light so red before.

You nodded and Thancred was content to let you go, but Estinien pushed you back by your shoulder, just behind Thancred’s own, his azure eyes burning into you.

“We both know he wanted a verbal response. Give it to him.”

At the familiar dominance in his tone, you folded, eyes rushing to Thancred’s.

“Y-Yes I have. More than once! To both of you!”

You squeaked it out before looking to Estinien for approval, to which he nodded, hand moving from your shoulder to your head where he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Good girl.”

It was a quiet mumble, but the praise filled you with warmth where the adrenaline once was.

“To both of us, huh?”

Your eyes flew open at the playful lilt in Thancred’s voice.

Oh Gods had you really said that?

You were still too content with Estinien’s soothing ministrations to move but you looked nervously to your favorite thief.

But he wasn’t looking at you.

“Estinien. What say you to a friendly competition?

"There isn’t many in Coerthas. What would it entail?”

“Who can make her come undone the most? Winner gets to stay with her for the night and the loser has to be on guard duty and stay awake.”

“Not very high stakes but I’ll take it. As long as she agrees to it, of course.”

“That goes without saying.”

They both turned to you and as sheepish as you felt, you still agreed.

“…Okay. But we’re obviously including the typical safewords. Lahabrea for you, Thancred and Nidhogg for you, Estinien. Still okay to use?”

You always checked, ensuring the words weren’t triggering for them and both nodded.

“You both have more in common than I realized, actually. Huh. So…how are we doing this then?”

Thancred looked vaguely amused as he shrugged.

“I can always run out and fetch some restraints. You’re awfully calm given your earlier flusteredness, you know.”

“No need, I have my own. It’s the hair. Makes her melt. Ears too, and those triple as an extra erogenous and ticklish area so I target it often. Her back will have the same affect.”

Thancred’s eyes lit up at that.

“No way; I didn’t even know she was ticklish there!”

“Wait don’t-eep!”

You yelped as Thancred moved before you could stop him, nimble fingers slipping underneath your shirt and drawing patterns into your back, occasionally spidering or digging in slightly to make you squeak. Nonetheless, you melted forward into Estinien’s waiting chest and sighed in content, small giggles slipping out now and then.

“So this is why you tensed and would jump away whenever I tried to massage your shoulders. Could you get any cuter?”

You nuzzled Estinien and grumbled weakly, taking solace in his warmth.

“This isn’t playing fair.”

“You’ve got a safe word darling. You need only say it if you need us to stop at any time.”

His deep voice rumbled in your ear before his teeth pulled, making you arch a moment before a purr escaped you, making you gasp, flinch away and cover your mouth.

The two men froze.

“…Tell me you heard that too, Wyrmblood.”

“Loud and clear. Naughty kitten, hiding such sounds from us for so long.”

Both men’s voices had deepened in their lust and it was obvious to see it in the way their eyes darkened as well.

“Now then, why don’t we find out what other sounds you can make for us. Shall we truly get started?”

Breathless you could only whimper as Thancred tongued your throat, while Estinien retrieved the restraints.

“I’m fucked aren’t I?”

“Not yet you aren’t. But you will be. Thoroughly .”

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samsaurwrites · 1 year

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Captivate (Aymeric x Reader x Estinien) - Chapter 2

You don’t know what tales the conspirators in Ul’Dah are spinning. What prices they’ve posted for your head. You don’t know if they’re hunting you—if they’re gaining on you. You don’t know how many they are or how long you can keep going. All you know is that you are alone. Horribly and unspeakably alone.

After the death of the Sultana of Ul'Dah, you seek out sanctuary in Ishgard, in the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. But Aymeric de Borel hides a dark secret, one that will bring you to your knees.

Tags: Heavensward Expansion, Cannon Adjacent, Mentioned Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Obsessive Aymeric de Borel, Dark Aymeric de Borel, Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Extremely Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content (eventually) , Stockholm Syndrome, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Other Additional Tags to be Added

Read here or on AO3.

Chapters: 1 | 2

They leave you in that wretched darkness for days.

Days.

Days you see and speak to no one. Days you waste away in your own filth.

Days your stomach cramps and growls and shrivels up in your belly; days when the chains feel so heavy around your wrists that you don’t bother lifting them, don’t even try yanking on them anymore.

Days where you don’t try at all.

Days you spend floating somewhere between wake and sleep, seeing phantom horrors that manifest in the dark—disfigured creatures, with hunched backs and long, bony arms that creep in the corners; eyes, staring from you from the mortar in the walls, cold and leering and primal; a ringing in your ears that sounds like whispers.

Like—they’ve forgotten you.

Like—they’re never coming back.

Then, when your lips are so chapped you can’t get rid of the taste of blood; when your stomach is howling so loudly you think your skull may split in two, Estinien returns. The noise, the sudden opening and closing of the door, startles you; the clank of his armor, his boots on the cold stone floor startles you.

You bolt upright. Chains rattling. Barely fighting back a wave of dizziness, of nausea.

The torch he slots into the wall nearly blinds you; straining your eyes, filling them with tears that trickle and burn. You shrink away, shrink into yourself because looking at it, looking at him—it hurts.

He walks closer, approaching you slowly, the way you would a wounded animal, and only then do you notice what he carries. Instead of his lance, a small bucket and ladle. Sloshing. Filled to the brim.

Water.

You swallow thickly, shifting onto your knees, fingers twitching into fists.

Want it, want it, want it—

He sits on the edge of the bed. Beckons you closer.

“Here,” he says, voice rough and low and like velvet against your ears because it’s the only thing you’ve heard besides your own breathing, your own muffled crying in what feels like an eternity. He ladles out a scoop of water. “Drink.”

You do. Scooting as close to him as you dare. Slowly, he brings the ladle to your lips. Tilts it towards you, and cool water flows into your mouth. Once you start drinking, you can’t stop. Drinking frantically. Sloppily. Gulping it down as quickly as you can, as quickly as he’ll refill the ladle and let you drink again.

Your fingers wrap tentatively around his wrists. Squeezing tighter when he doesn’t pull away. Water rolls down your chin, your neck. You drink and drink, clinging to him, drinking until there’s nothing left. Until your panting, shoulders heaving up and down and up and down, breath ragged in your throat.

Then, he starts to stand and—panic.

“Wait,” you croak, voice hoarse from neglect and disuse. “Estinien, please—”

You try to hold him. To grab him and keep him there.

But you’re so weak.

He pries your fingers from his wrist with ease. Retreats from your reach before you can make another grab at him—too weak, too weary, too slow.

You watch him. Dread weighing down on your shoulders, squeezing your chest tighter and tighter and tighter. Your fingers fist in the soiled sheets. You’re breathing fast. Too fast, and it makes you dizzy. Makes you woozy.

Makes you sick.

“P-Please,” you beg. You don’t even realize you’re crying until tears fall from your cheeks onto the backs of your hands. “Please don’t—”

Please don’t leave me here.

The door slams shut, plunging you back into darkness, and you can’t smother the broken wail that crawls out of your throat. The sobs that wrack your shoulders. You scream and cry until you can’t anymore. Until your voice has shriveled up into nothing, leaving you empty, empty, empty.

Please don’t leave me here.

You rock back and forth, arms wrapped around your knees. Dig your fingernails into your skin and pray to Hydaelyn, to anyone who will listen, to help you. To save you. To free you.

To kill you.

You fall asleep to the imagined sounds of claws scraping against stone.

A day later, Estinien comes back. No lance, but no bucket and ladle either.

You don’t bother sitting up. Just shut your eyes against the blinding brightness he brings.

The water had made it worse. Made you acutely aware of how thirsty you were, how dry your throat felt. How much your mouth tasted like dirt and dust and blood. Made you weaker. Listless.

“Come with me,” he says, crossing the room in long, brusque strides. “You’re filthy.”

He kneels down next to you, and only then do you pry open your eyes. Only then do you watch blankly as he unbolts your chains from the wall and takes them in hand.

“Up,” is all he says before he’s pulling you, stumbling, from the bed.

Standing, being upright, after so many days confined to a bed feels wrong. Your legs tremble and shake, unused now to supporting your weight, and your knees threaten to buckle. Your arms hang limply in front of you, held together by the manacles encircling your wrists, by Estinien’s iron grip.

“Do not fight me,” he warns lowly, before releasing your chains and drawing a long strip of cloth from his belt.

For the briefest instant, you imagine it. Imagine what would happen if you drove your shoulder into his stomach. What would happen if you managed to catch him off guard long enough to bolt out the door. You wonder how far you would make it before he caught you. Before he cornered you in a dead-end hallway. Before you ran into someone or something worse.

But you’re tired. So, so tired.

Instead of fighting, instead of running—instead of trying—you let him tie the cloth over your eyes, let him blind you. You cling to your bonds, breath heavy in your lungs, fingers wrapping around the chains, the only thing anchoring you to reality, to him. And then he pulls, tugging you towards the door.

The stone is cold against your bare feet, causing involuntary shivers to race up and down your spine. The clanking of chains is the only sound between you as he drags you forward, sightless, and you start to wonder why he hasn’t gagged or silenced you. Then, you realize, with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

That you must be somewhere where it doesn’t matter how much or how loudly you scream.

Because there must be no one around to hear you.

No one around to help you.

You choke on your next breath.

Estinien leads you onwards, and you quickly lose track. It slips from your memory like sand through your fingers. You can’t remember how steps you’ve taken, how many corridors you’ve turned down, how many lefts or rights you made; can’t remember what order you made them in either. Too tired to focus on anything other than putting one foot in front of the other, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

Eventually, he stops, and you hear a door open in front of you.

Warmth billows out from it, washing over you, dewing on your skin, and you shiver.

A gentle tug on your chains is all it, and you follow him into the room.

Steam wraps around you like a blanket, heating your skin, your fingers and toes. The gentle scent of lavender, of vanilla and oil and soap, invades your senses, and you inhale deeply, sinking down in it, drowning in it.

Hands—not gauntlets or gloves—but warm, calloused hands lift your own, raising them in front of your chest, palms up, like an offering. You don’t recoil, don’t flinch, not like you should. You savor it, the contact, the presence of another being, of something other than the monsters that dwell in the corners of your prison.

You hate that you do.

Then, you hear a soft clanking, feel keys brush across you palms while he undoes your manacles. Removes them from your wrist and—and you feel like you can breathe again.

“Take this off,” he murmurs, voice flat, fingering at the sleeve of your sleeping dress.

Your shoulders tense, breath turning to ice in your lungs. Shake your head. Lower lip trembling, heart pounding—THUD THUD THUD THUD. Eyebrows pulling together, tears burning behind your closed eyes. You cradle your wrists against your chest. Take a half-step backwards.

He catches your arm, and you yelp.

“To bathe,” he bites out, and you can hear the scowl on his face.

A pause. One stuttering heartbeat. Another.

Still trembling, still leaking tears, you nod once. Again, when you still can’t find it in you to move. Then, you’re grabbing the skirt of your dress and pulling it up, up, up. Over your head. Leaving you naked, shivering, as goosebumps break out along your skin.

He takes your hand and leads you forward, guiding you towards the sweet smell, into a deep tub filled with heated water. He helps you slide down into it, placing your hand on the porcelain rim. And—

It’s bliss.

“Estinien,” you start, breathier than you mean for it to be, fingers prodding at the bottom edge of the blindfold, just barely slipping underneath—

But he stops you. Fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand away from your face.

“Leave it,” he says, then guides your hand down to a washcloth, to a small glass bottle arranged on top of a small table next to the tub. “Use these to clean yourself.”

He stands again, and your head follows the sound, chin tilting up.

“Leave it on,” he says again, and slowly, you nod. “I’ll return soon.”

You hear him leave. Hear the door shut and click. And then, you’re alone.

But it doesn’t feel like it.

You feel watched. Feel eyes roaming down the length of your neck, across your shoulders, sliding down over your spine, over every inch of exposed skin. You sink down deeper into the water, until the water touches your chin.

Your breath comes out fast. In short, ragged puffs that just barely disturb the surface of the water. Despite the heat of the water, despite the way it wraps around you and seeks to soothe the ache in your muscles, in your bones, you still feel cold.

You shiver and quake and don’t dare think about why you haven’t ripped off the blindfold.

Why you haven’t dared to stand up.

Why you haven’t snatched your soiled dress and yanked open the door and run yet.

Trembling, you reach for the washcloth, patting around blindly for it until your fingers brush soft fabric. You take the bottle. Uncork it and pour sweet smelling soap into the cloth, rubbing it between your palms until it warms and suds.

You drag it along your body. Over your arms and legs, hissing when the cloth catches against the scabs that still litter your skin. You scrub at your shoulders, at your hips, rubbing at the dirt and blood and filth that’s caked there. Rub and rub and rub until your skin feels raw.

You discard the cloth, leave it hanging over the side of the tub. Slowly, you lean backwards, dipping your head into the water, back arching, breasts just barely breaching the surface of the water. You let the heat and the wet soak into your hair, your scalp. Lowly, almost without realizing it, you hum.

Gods, how you’ve missed bathing.

Sitting up, you reach again for the soap. Pour it into your hands and lather it into your scalp, working your fingertips around in gentle circles, scrubbing at the oil and the sweat. Again, you lean back. Hold your breath and submerge yourself completely. Try to rinse the suds out from your hair, as best you can, before resurfacing. Before sitting up. Before the water starts to seep from the blindfold, from your hair, to roll down your skin in tiny rivulets.

The silence stings. In the empty expanse of the bathroom, your breath seems to echo. To reverberate and bounce and ring in your ears. You pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. Curling in on yourself because you still feel eyes on you.

Still feel like you’re being watched, like you’re not alone.

“H-Hello?” you whisper, to the silence, to the steam.

You swear you hear an answer, an exhale—a laugh. Your head jerks towards the sound, breath catching in your throat. You almost rip off the blindfold. Almost shatter the bottle on the tub and wield it, jagged and broken, like a weapon. Almost stand, almost fight, almost run.

Almost.

Fear keeps you still. Rigid. Keeps you quiet.

You don’t dare whisper again.

Instead, you wait, shoulders tensed, fingernails digging into your legs. Wait for Estinien to return. Wait for the eyes to come closer. Wait for the breath to whisper across the back of your neck, to float past your ears. Wait so long the water around you grows still, grows tepid, then cool. Shivers wrack you. Tremors shaking you from head to toe, but still you do not stand. Still you do nothing, do not even dare to adjust the blindfold that has gone frigid against your skin.

Then, the door clicks open, and you nearly shriek.

Your head whips towards the sound. Towards the footsteps that approach you.

“Estinien?” you croak, releasing your hold on your knees in favor of the edge of the tub.

“Aye,” he answers. He pulls you up onto your feet, fingers firm around your wrists. Helping you climb out of the tub. Keeping you steady when you sway, when you nearly move your balance. He pushes a towel into your trembling fingers. “Dry yourself.”

You do. Wringing out your hair, wiping away the droplets that cling to your skin.

“Here,” he says, and hands you another dress, a soft, wispy feeling thing that you pull over your head immediately. You feel your breath even out; feel the unease ebb, feel your bones settling back into place; feel less of the burning gaze roving over your body, dampened by the gauzy fabric obscuring your skin.

Fingers touch the edge of your blindfold—and then you recoil. Then you jerk your head away; then the back of your thighs bump the edge of the bath, clattering into the side table. Sending the bottle crashing to the ground. Shattering. Tiny glass shards skittering across the tiles.

The sound is deafening.

You catch yourself. Barely. One hand behind you, braces on the opposite side, the other clasped tight in Estinien’s punishing grasp. He curses and yanks you forward, towards him, so that you sit upright on the edge of the bath.

“I told you not to fight me,” he snaps, tearing off the blindfold. Throwing it to the floor. And for a moment—you glimpse him. A flash of silver hair, of high cheekbones and a strong nose. Eyes the color of slate, of shadow and fog and smoke; eyes outlined with dark, heavy circles.

Then, another cloth is being drawn over your eyes. Cinched tight behind your head with no regard for the hair that pulls and twists within the knot. You wince, but say nothing, focusing on the nettling sting in your scalp instead of the shame that twists and squirms in your belly.

Without warning, Estinien scoops you up into his arms, and you bite back a yelp; arms shooting around his neck, clinging to him as he carries you over shards of broken glass that pop and crunch underneath his boots.

You hear the door open. Hear it swing shut behind you. Hear the sounds of Estinien’s footsteps echoing in the halls as he carries you back through the winding maze of cold, unfeeling stone.

You don’t hear Aymeric rise to his feet, standing from the chair sitting in the far corner of the bathroom. Don’t see the smile that still lingers on his lips as he takes in the scattered glass, the soiled dress, the sopping blindfold. You don’t see the dark satisfaction that ripples behind his eyes, don’t see the desire that smolders and burns there. You hadn’t fought, hadn’t run. You had listened.

Had obeyed.

When your feet once again touch the cold stones, somehow, you know that you’re back. Back in your prison, in your cell. Back to darkness and filth and hunger and thirst. Back to madness. To clawing and crying and begging for an end that won’t come.

Helpless.

You can’t stop the whimper that bubbles up from your throat, strangled and wet and desperate.

“Please,” you whisper, hardly even audible.

Estinien holds you still, hands firm. Unwavering. Slowly, he binds your wrists together, wrapping them in cold bands of iron that burn against your skin. You hear chains. A cacophonous sound that makes you dizzy. Makes sick. You feel the weight of them as he attaches them to your manacles. Gently.

Carefully, he unties the blindfold. Softly, he removes the cloth from your eyes.

Careful, gentle, soft, slow—

“Please,” you beg again, louder this time, voice laced with panic, with fear. Tears sting in the corners of your eyes, in your nose. Breath speeding—uneven—sharp, jagged, like glass skittering across the floor. “Let… Let me go, please. I… I—”

He merely watches. Doesn’t say a word as you clutch at him.

“Tell him I escaped,” you breathe, clutching at him. Trembling. “T-Tell him… Tell him Hydaelyn saved me. O-Or that the Scions did. Tell him… Anything—just… just please—” your voice breaks into two. “—I can’t take it anymore.”

Silence. Then, “you must.”

Thanks for reading!! You can check out my other writing here.

#aymeric x wol #aymeric x reader #estinien x wol #estinien x reader #aymeric de borel #aymeric ffxiv #estinien wyrmblood #estinien ffxiv #ffxiv #eventual smut #but we gotta do some ✨plot✨ first cause im classy #my writing #writing #fanfiction

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galaxxiwrites · 2 years

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Gifts

Finally posted something in a while lol...I'm so sorry for the almost whole year of inactivity. For a while I was busy adjusting myself between work and school, I've had a few burn outs here and there, and most of the time I just feel exhausted to even use my brain for anything hhhhhh

Warnings: not proofread, this is pretty much just a warm up for me

ft. The Ishgard Husband Trio

Notorious for giving you any and every gifts that reminds him of you, a habit which he started when he heard of your out-of-dimension adventures.

Wether it's his own coping mechanism because he misses you dearly, or if he just wants to give you things to remember him by as you both travel your owns paths, you'll never know as he refuses to tell you anything.

Little gizmos and gadgets and different thingamabobs, like hair ties costing up to four digits.

"My brother in Hydaelyn, HOW MUCH did you pay for this?"

He tries to diffuse the situation by saying he got it on a good deal, and you swear you could feel your heart sink as he said those words.

Pray never tell Tataru of Estinien's financial misadventures, or she will turn all hells over its head just from her fury.

Luckily his time in Thavnair made him street smarter, and he just doesn't impulsively buy things anymore without bargaining.

But every once in a while he gives you something expensive that is actually worth its price.

Like beautiful jewelry, some fine food, or a full-body Elphant suit in your favourite color.

Aymeric is a man who prefers to give simple gifts to you whenever you make your way to Ishgard. Boquets of roses, golden accessories, stuffed toys to keep around as you little companion. All best of what Ishgard has to offer, fit for the person he loved as much as his homeland.

Thanks to the opening of its borders, Aymeric's gifts had been growing in variety lately. Fine wares from Thavnair to decorate your nonexistent home, fashionable Ul'dahn fashion which has slowly warmed the hearts of the once proud Elezens, beautiful flowers enchanted to wilt a little slower from Gridania...

Although as of lately, you've started to notice a somber look on his face whenever he received gifts for you—despite his efforts to quickly hide it with a resignated smile.

"Do I not appreciate your gifts? My love, I apologize. I have never once been burdened by your gifts." He holds his tongue for a moment, causing you to drip down cold sweat in anticipation.

"I adore them, each and every single one of them. Why, I've dedicated an entire room to fill it with all the presents you've bestowed upon me. In fact, I was wondering my same—as a seasoned adventurer, do my gifts not bore you?"

You couldn't stop yourself from busrting out laughing— Despite his appearance, the House of Lords can be quite the cutie.

Haurchefant loved all yours gifts. So many things you would bring home back to the Fortemps manor were all so different from the same things he has grown accustomed to.

Like tea from Gridania, fine jewelries from Ul'dah, or perhaps a few hefty bottles of Limsa's finest spirits, the likes of which was enough to leave himself amd his family heavily intoxicated after a few shots.

For every gift that you've given to Haurchefant, he has one in return. The freshest of gyashl greens from the Sea of Clouds for your trusted black chocobo (which was itself a present from him as well), luxurious Ishgardian attire of the finest cloths for your overflowing glamour dresser...

Though the ones you cherish the most were the love-filled kisses and tight embraces the two of your shared, wether it be within the privacy of his own quarters or amongst the crowd of disapproving Ishgardians.

...Or so, that was how things were until that fateful day you've lost him.

For so long you've clung on to those memories of fleeting blissfulness, holding them so close to your chest in fear that they may flutter away as well.

But that was a past that has come and gone, and throughout the years you've healed. You've forgiven yourself, and you even allowed yourself another chance to be intimate with another.

If there was one thing that the journey to the ends of the universe has taught you, it is that life is beatiful, even through the pain and anguish. That the memories will ways be a part of you through every step of the journey—that he will be there with you always, and that alone is enough comfort for you to keep going on.

"That was all he could ever ask for. Your happiness." Francel tells you as he makes his way to his old's friends grave.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt your time together." The young Elezen's voice quivered from the cold.

You brush it off, saying that he knows better than anyone that Haurchefant loved the company of many.

You placed the boquet down on his grave, a colorful batch picked from Thavnair, thinking he would have loved to see these, and how you'll come back with even more grand stories.

You decided it was best to head back to the city proper, realizing that you've been out for too long and that you're probably fatigued. Though you swore you cold have heard a clear whisper among the wind—a quiet but clear Thank you.

#i swear I love haurchefant a normal amount....#ffxiv #ffxiv haurchefant #ffxiv aymeric #ffxiv estinien #estinien x wol #estinien x reader #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #aymeric de borel #ser aymeric #ffxiv headcanons #omg i havent been in the tags in so long lmao

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yasuosexual · 3 months

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best boys and their favorite sex positions 😋

warnings: 18+, female reader

THANCRED: cowgirl/reverse cowgirl

- thancred loves it when you ride him, especially when you take the initiative. he finds it extremely hot when you push him down on to the bed and straddle him, taking total control.

- loves it when you face him, but also doesn’t mind reverse. he will leave plenty of marks on your neck and chest/back regardless.

- “you’re so hot on top of me,”

- thancred hates it when he cums too fast the first time that you ride him. he asks you to start riding him more often so he can last longer. plus it’s a great excuse to bury his face in your chest:)

AYMERIC: 69

- yeah i said it. this man goes crazy about giving you head. aymeric cares about making you feel good and will eat you out until you cum on his face multiple times.

- while he loves to see your face twist with pleasure when he works his tongue around your sensitive bud (in missionary), he enjoys 69 the most because he is able to make you sit on his face. don’t be shy— he will literally pull your ass down onto him.

- “one more time, darling. i know you can do it,”

- swears that your juices are the best thing he has ever tasted and will NEVER let you have sex without sitting on his face first. mans gotta drink up!!!

HAURCHEFANT: missionary

- this man … this man!!! loves to watch you as he fucks you. he is actually obsessed with you and loves to make eye contact.

- he enjoys it when you grab him by the hair and pull his face down, kissing him all over. moan in his ear while you’re at it too— that shit drives him absolutely wild.

- “you are so beautiful underneath me like this,”

- haurchefant could watch you for hours underneath him and hates finishing because he could literally fuck you forever. doesn’t mean he won’t make you cum though, and when he does it’s fist clenching, eye rolling, name moaning (probably screaming LOL!) type shit like this man does not play around with pleasure. you’re cumming multiple times too so don’t think you’re done yet:)

ESTINIEN: doggy

- estinien loves it rough. we all know this. he enjoys doggy style the best because he is able to have so much control over the pace and the hardness of his thrusts.

- will grab you by the hair or push you down into the bed, getting the best angle every time. as much as he loves it rough, estinien is sure to always make you cum first. you know he loves multiple rounds too, so prepare yourself.

- “good girl. you take it so well,”

- he doesn’t mind letting you take control… if he’s feeling like it. sometimes he will let go of your ass and let you pleasure yourself on his cock, smiling as his hands run across your body.

celly

i love these men y aren’t they real :(

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buoyfriend · 2 years

Text

A Surprise Birthday Gift ft. Aymeric, Estinien & Zenos

I've always wandering about Aymeric's, Estinien's and Zenos's reactions at a gift given to them by WoL. And their realization that they've forgotten about their own birthdays:)

Aymeric

Though Aymeric is a shrewd and clever man, he is a busy one as well. [redacted] day of [redacted month] is always labeled "House of Lords Vote" or "Alliance Meeting" rather than "Nameday Celebration".

Ser Aymeric's nameday is quite the event in the Holy See. In the weeks preceding it, the price of dragoon blue dyes skyrocket at the Jeweled Crozier. Florists prepare their stocks of blue oldroses, always failing to estimate the number needed every year.

Lost in increasing responsibilities, he always fails to see the month of unceasing attention coming for him like snow tumbling down a mountain. That is, until it has arrived in the form of many, many gifts.

He ignores the notes praising the lustrousness of his hair and the richness of his voice. He sends his regrets, he will not be able to attend any banquets in his honor. He discards requests to meet in some dark corner of the Empyreum ward under the waxing moon.

Instead, he chooses instead to spend the night in his office, lamenting the strangeness of his culture. For as much political opposition as he had received, he had always received shallow admiration in equal measure.

On such nights, his thoughts trail off into the meaning of the day. This nameday, the very first day he was Aymeric de Borel was the first time he was chosen. It was the first time he was loved.

Imagine his surprise when you catch him lost in reverie! He doesn't give much time to reflect on his parents, but you've found him doing just that as he sips his tea before the fire in the parlor. As he shakes the thought of the very first time he was loved, he thinks on all of the love you've given him in the time you've known each other.

Your gift isn't a shallow attempt to earn a high house's title nor to win his political favor. It's simply a token of your appreciation, of your affection. To say he is moved is an understatement.

Aymeric, you receive so many gifts each year. Why was this one so meaningful to you? I'm told you "stuttered and couldn't find any words"!

Aymeric blushes, red spreading to the tips of his long ears. He gently clears his throat as he looks away from his interviewer.

"Truthfully, I did struggle in that moment. You know the ways of the Holy See, if not through your own travels through these interviews, I'm sure. Their gift was simple, but it meant all to me. Not a grand bouquet of oldroses, not jewelry crafted by the Crozier's finest artisans. It was not extravagant nor was it attempt to curry my favor. It was a small token, made for me by their own hands. The same hands that carried the burden of Ishgard's history, the same hands that rebuilt the Firmament.

Though you and I do share quite a bit of candor between us, the exact nature of the gift is not something I will disclose. That is between the Warrior of Light and I. But, know that as they presented the gift to me, I was quite overcome. My eyes glazed over with returned admiration as I thought of exactly where I might place it to see it every day."

Estinien

As his Temple Knights are wont to do, Estinien has long enjoyed excuses to celebrate over a pint! Despite leaving his company of warriors, he has not lost his interest in celebrating namedays at the Forgotten Knight.

But despite all interest, his attention has been split in the last several years. Since your arrival in Eorzea, his views have been shattered. On his life, his country, the world around him.

A man so committed to defeating dragonkind, driven to cast aside his family name in place of "Wyrmblood" has found himself in the deepest kinship with many dragons. His nameday is the last thing on his mind in light of the years' many events.

Estinien prides himself on being difficult to find, only appearing on the board at the precise moment that he would like to join the game. Alas, you have found him. The surprise does not end there.

Though he catches himself as the words tumble out of his mouth, he does realize that his tone was impolite, that your intentions were nothing but kind, he is quite taken aback that you have learned his nameday without him sharing it directly with you.

He softens as you extend your hands with a gift, surprised that you would make a point to find him at all, let alone on this day with a trinket meant to express your feelings.

It must have been quite a shock that the Warrior of Light found you. How do you think they did that? They are quite talented, you and I both know that, but you're a slippery one. How did they manage?

Estinien releases a low growl as he rolls his eyes. He sighs as he turns to look at his interviewer.

"Gods if I know. I would like to know to avoid a repeat of the incident. I do not enjoy being surprised in such a way. Though, I do admit, I enjoyed the rest of the surprise. In these last few years, I've had quite a bit to consider. My views on things have changed, as you can see.

Estinien turns his head to smile lightly at Vritra.

My view of myself has changed. The last time I celebrated mine own nameday, I was covered head to foot in a wyrm's blood, cheering many deaths at the Forgotten Knight.

He scowls, head hung low for a moment as if he's not proud to admit this in present company.

The Warrior of Light made a fool of me, of what I had believed. But in that, they made a better man of me as well. I was a fool, we all were. It was a nameday better spent, surrounded by the friends I couldn't have imagined having before we met. After all, the taverns in Thavnair aren't half bad."

Zenos

To say that Zenos is disconnected to the arbitrary ways people mark the passage of time is an understatement. He may have attended Garlean banquets for his nameday, but to say he "celebrated" them would ring false.

He has a singular focus, of course you know of it, he has told you many times. He has chased you across the star, to the far edge of fate, longing for the fulfillment that only a bloodstained dance with you can bring him.

He is not surprised when you refuse him yet again, but even more surprised when you offer something else.

At first, he is disappointed that you would speak of something so banal, a nameday. He had expected that you of all people would understand, it was simply the day one had breathed their first breath on this star, simply the day they were first known as who they are.

Yet, he must admit, he is...feeling something. An emotion he can't quite place, one wholly unfamiliar to him. He feels it strongly as soon as he hears your voice calling to him, watching your eyes hold his gaze. His first friend, reaching out to him simply because you remembered a fact from this history books: Zenos Viator Galvus, born [redacted] day, [redacted] month, Sixth Astral Era.

The Warrior of Light had long refused your company, rejecting your pleas for another glorious battle. Why do you think they came to you on this day?

Zenos is wearing a face that I myself have not seen before. He looks flummoxed, his expression shifting as he searches for words to define the emotion lingering within him.

"I had hoped when I heard them call my name in the distance that I would turn to see them, weapon drawn, hunger in their eyes. I was disappointed to find them marching slowly, comfortably. Not racing, leaping for the first strike. I had thought I had overcome disappointment,. It is hard to be disappointed when you have no expectations for mankind, knowing in your heart that they would never rise above their drive to satisfy base instincts. Yet, I felt deep disappointment to watch them stride closer to me, arms extended to present me with a gift.

A gift! A material trinket. I scoffed at it, yet found my hands grasping it, my arms clutching it to my chest as they said their farewells. We parted ways once again, our mutual friend once again leaving me with an emotion I never thought I would experience. Not simply the disappointment, but...

Zenos casts his head upwards to the moon, gazing at its' fullness. He is silent for a moment, forgetting that he had just been speaking with someone. He is lost then, imagining something I could not fathom.

Do you treasure this gift?

Zenos turns back to his interviewer, his lips spreading in a wry smile. His hand moves to his pocket as if it were a subconscious act, fingers curling against a shape in his pocket. He walks away without another word, as if the question was just as banal as remembering a nameday, of loving a friend deeply enough to share a gift. Yet, he smiles once more at the moon, a smile that slowly becomes a grin.

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