Show Some Skin

Thank you guys for following the blog! It’s still somewhat a WIP, but let’s have some fun!

Muses will be nearly the same as from the main multi, but only those that are 18+ or have verses that are. For the full list, look here!

My rules are much more laxed than on the main multi, but I probably won’t be smutting here. If you have an interest in smut, feel free to message me and I’ll let you know if I’m comfortable or not (I’ve only done it a couple of times since 2013, so I’m more embarrassed than anything). 

Everything UP to penetration (even fingers or tongues in genitals) will be open game! Want to make it super steamy? Dry humping? That’s okay for this sin blog! 

Rules as well will be placed here when they’re done. 

He couldn’t help himself. The light touch on his ear made him squirm, hiding his expression and muffling his little bite of laughter between her thighs. They had always been sensitive, and her calloused fingers, convinced with how warm they felt right now - it made him feel like melting. There was not another place on the entire planet he would rather be than here, her smile and laugh so her in every way.

“I said,” he spoke, lifting his head so he could be heard more clearly, “that you were stupid, and reckless.”

And he had. Because she had been, coming back from her Dravanian excursion covered in dried blood and scattered bruises, a triumphant straightness to her spine as if she had won a game of poker and not slaughtered dragonkin while she was absent. She was so, so different than any woman he had tried to woo in Ishgard, conservative and careful and meek.

Emmanellain had found himself utterly enamored with the easy confidence she had carried upon returning to the manor. It was her smile, combined with his horrific worry over the woman, that had lead him to embrace her and press a kiss to her split lip.

“And I had asked - if you needed care. And… you said -”

He nosed her thigh, kissing it once, struggling not to smile.

“You said the healers could fuckin’ wait because you were half starved. Of me, I only assumed.”

Now, her thighs easing apart - he lurched forward, lips covering every ilm of bare skin, sticky from where they had played before. He had gotten a look at her, certainly, but not like this, lain on his own belly between her legs.

“By the fury,” he spoke, licking his lips. “I think I may find myself half starved now, if you will forgive me.”

She only received that as a warning before he nipped at her thigh, far too gentle for it to truly hurt. He nosed the crease between leg and sex, letting out a long exhale.

She could go on another trip for months and he would have all the imagery he needed to get through it alone.

Emmanellain hesitated, not fully sure what to do next. He leaned forward, kissing the patch of purple, following the trail until his lips grazed where she was split. And then - another pause - his tongue darting out to flatten against her.

Haurchefant had long teased about women using their tongues. He supposed it wasn’t much different, even if his partner’s bits were less … obvious. He was surprised when she didn’t much taste like anything, but he hadn’t delved past her foyer quite yet.

If their romp was any indication, he still had quite a bit to explore.

The grin stretched across her features, acknowledging his remembrance of their first kiss. It had taken all of her strength to return back to Ishgard in a hero’s stride; every ilm of her ached and screamed at her to crumple, but she wouldn’t. Not when she knew she would feel relief at simply seeing the man at her return, and as soon as she had overcome the stairs to the stones that harbored the man whom had slowly lowered her defenses, a rush of exhilaration flooded her veins. How only when he encroached upon her did she feel so very vulnerable once more, pain present, hunger at her teeth, only to have a sudden press upon her swollen lip.

Thighs spread and a breath caught amidst the chuckles that arose from her throat. “When you taste somethin’ sweet for the first time, you starve for it.” Her fingers trailed some, cheeks blistering red as he began to dive further against her skin, small, involuntary twitches from her frame of the sheer intimacy. The inexperience of such closeness tempted her knees to close about his head, but her own resisting kept them in place for his exploration.

His warning went heeded, a sucked in breath as her eyes closed, fingers nesting into his dark locks. Her bottom lip took the brunt of teeth, trying to keep herself silent from the small nips and kisses along her lower lips, the folds still somewhat slick from their brief encounter minutes before. Koya’s hold was well until the long lap along her sensitive button pulled far more out of her than anticipated.

“E-Emman..!” Her body tensed, the shock of pleasure from such a minor motion rocketing and kickstarting the strength that clung to her muscles. Pressure from her own control to keep that power in check, her breath becoming ragged from sheer excitement, but every part of her wished to hand the reigns over. Give him everything in exchange for more licks along her lips, letting him have freedom to nestle further within.

Her hand shifted away from him, instead to seek out his own. “That…That felt fuckin’ good…” She confirmed, not to frighten him from the task he had set to. “H-hold…hold down my leg, so you can..fully…” Her teeth clenched, one eye opening half way to peer down at him.

Smut Starters || Always accepting

Ever since the first flash of the blue tip along the minute lingua, Urianger had been entranced.

There was nothing concrete for what spurred it, the occasional way the tip of her tongue stuck out from her lips when she concentrated on something intently having caught his attention on multiple occasions. He wished to peruse it, find out why it was so vastly different than any other that he had ever seen before—not that he was a connoisseur of that particular organ—and why it seemed to innately intrigue him.

After their initial first kiss, he had his answer: it was hers, and he wished to feel it against his own.

Pressing her back against the bookshelf, hands placed precariously in suitable spots to lift her high off the ground, allowing her legs to find home about his waist in full fastening, his mouth worked along the spiny calcium along her neck, grazing the edges with pearly teeth that threatened to leave minute markings that only they would notice. It was not the first occurrence of their inability to contain themselves within the library of the Rising Stones, and perhaps would not be the last.

Quiet as he tried to be, her name came out as a groan against her skin as small motions rocked her hips back and forth between the tomes that slid further into the recesses to accommodate her frame. Trailing up along her throat, the tip of his tongue grazing her jaw before he aligned himself around her horns, avoiding them expertly.

It had taken a few tries to be as succinct in his motions, but the reward was worth every bump and misstep along the way.

Golden eyes nearly glowed with a desire as he peered upon her, staring into the darker pools with a mix of adoration and need. As if beckoning to his silent call, that beautiful blue slipped from between soft lips, Urianger nearly shuddering from sheer want of more encounters with the appendage. “Altansarnai.” He spoke, his tone low and unwavering.

Leaning in a fraction more, he pressed a kiss against the side of her mouth, a tease that he felt equitable to that which seeing her in such a manner was to him. “Mine words might tie thine, but allow me to speak plain.” He pulled back only a fraction, securing her against him as a hand came up to cup her chin, his thumb coming to gingerly brush along her lower lip.

“Thine tongue is steeped in royal hue, and though I may not be worthy of such privilege, I shall worship your form with all that color deserves.”

     Emman couldn’t help his own breathy laughter, the feeling ghosting over the skin of her ribs. No - he supposed not. Her spunk, the way she always felt like he were grasping at powdery snow and losing, it was what had drawn him in to begin with. For him to ask her not to be a smart ass was like asking the Brume not to fog over. It simply was, and always would be.

     “I suppose - I wouldn’t hurt you,” he murmured, words nearly lost against her flesh. He barely was kissing her any further - just allowing himself to be, to give her time to unclench her fists and lose some of her worry. “I … guess I’m more worried about you liking it than it hurting you.”

     He stopped fully now, lips near her navel, a rush of red coming to his ears. Earnestly, he had none. He had planned to bed her; he had planned to make her writhe and cry and feel like any man should make his partner feel. But that had already gone to shite, so - 

     “M’ makin’ it up as I go,” he confessed, his chin on her belly as he peered up at her. She almost looked like she were dreading it, half her face covered to hide herself away from him. Emman reached up now, hand encircling her other, giving it a little squeeze. And then he grinned.

     “Kinda like your adventure, huh? Just - making the most of whatever I’m able to do.”

     Emmanellain released her hand, stroking his own down her waist and hip, giving her thigh a gentle tap with his knuckles like he were knocking on a door in the hopes she would spread them open. Only now did he resume his kisses, lips on her navel and onto her hip, where skin met skin at the crease of her thigh.

     “What’s the password?”

It was difficult overcoming the innate dichotomy that was her combative nature as well as her inability to accept the affection so plainly. It had taken what felt like eons for her to even recognize that Emmanellain harbored feelings for her, and even longer for her to be able not to fumble at softer signs of intimacy such as hand holding and kissing. Having slowly adapted to those aspects, she was mounting a breach beyond another mental barrier that she wished to have no assistance in.

But how could she deny him when he was so tender, certainly meaning to offer her gentleness with genuine adoration, but a deep part of her wondered if it was not all still an act. That those faint wisps of insecurity were right—she could never be loved truly for who she was.

His utterance made her tense, then relax immediately, the hand coming to hers and she instantly folded her fingers against his own. A peek down at him was stolen, his comparison, admittance, and ruby complexion drawing out a more genuine smile from her heated features. “Y-yeah, we don’t need a damn plan.” A breathy chuckle escaped her, her hand lowering away as she resumed her initial position from their attempt at love making. “We can just figure it out as we go, it’s what we’re good at.”

Leaning her head back some to relax, it was only the sudden rapping upon her thigh that stirred a perked brow, before a genuine laugh fully exuded from Koya’s frame. A break in the tension, her legs began to open slowly for him, before they halted, her knees only an ilm apart, as if a truly requiring a password for admittance.

“A fuckin’ password! You should know it, Emman.” She beamed down at him, her hand reaching down to gently brush against his warmed ear, playfulness resuming her features, knowing anything he uttered would allow him passage. Her mind tried to think of something in the moment, but this had been just as terrifying and wondrous as another moment in their relationship. “…It’s the thin’ you said when you were goin’ to kiss me the first time.” Her fingers slowly began to trail away from his ear, gently catching along a lock of dark hair affectionately.

     Well - maybe not, he supposed. There were ways they could make it work, if it happened… not that he was especially wanting it to happen so soon after their first get together. But whether or not she would bear a child was, decidedly, a worry for another time. Not now, when he already was fretting over how he could make up for his actions.

     He licked his lips, already feeling his ears flaring with heat himself. Their faces near a mirror shade of red, Emmanellain said, “yeah. – Yeah. I’d like to make it up to you - … as well as I can.”

     By Halone, if he couldn’t even last, who was he to say he would be able to please her at all? A pit sank into his stomach, watching unease build on her features and in her movements.

     “Gods, no - I want to. I really want to,” he promised. “What kind of person am I, if I don’t make sure you’re well and truly spent along with me? Please - allow me to try.”

     He leaned forward, mindful of where her arm crossed between them, and kissed her. Emmanellain’s lips trailed from her own, to her cheek and ear and beyond, nearly hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

     He may not be Artoirel or Haurchefant, but - he was his father’s son. And as little as he wanted to admit it, Edmont had managed to catch the attention of two different women - … if the gods were good, he should have inherited at least some sort of … penchant, right?

     “Tell me to stop if I hurt you,” he spoke, words between kisses, on her shoulder, collar, the space between her fingers on her breast. “And don’t be smarmy about it - I mean this, Koya.”

Despite for all Emmanellian’s fumbling, he had come so far in his life before her. If he had the mere utterance that he would do what he could, Koya had not doubt in putting her faith into him. After all, it had been what spurred her to this moment, and he was just as embarrassed as she. Swallowing hard, a small nod issued from her. Tentative, hesitating, she still felt apprehensive. That he was merely doing this in an attempt to avoid her wrath, despite that she would never take it out on him over something like this.

But the kiss he pressed upon her, sweet and tender, just as they had been when no one was looking and she could offer up the modicum of affection towards him, allowing her to relax with each and every touch and collision of his lips against her burning skin.

Each encounter reminded her why she chose him, why her heart thrummed hastily against her breast when it did not for those who might have been considered more capable. Emmanellian was someone who could see her for who she really was, beyond the veil of guarded walls and curses that spilled from her to keep everyone at bay. Despite his inexperience, they were too much alike to ignore, and she couldn’t help it.

Koya trusted him with everything.

Slowly her arm slid out from between them, allowing Emmanellian free reign of her frame as she let her hand rest upon the black locks, her cheek still pressed against the sheets. “Ha…ah…” She couldn’t help but let out the small, whimpered breaths, his touch already rising a rush of sensual pleasure up her spine. “But if…I-if I’m not smarmy ‘bout it,” she tried to smile, containing the rush that wanted to make her squirm.

“Is it really me, then, Emman?” Koya offered out before closing her eyes, her knees shifting back down, allowing him further access to the entirety of her frame. “But I’ll let you know.” She added somewhat quickly, her other hand coming to cover some of her face as she pressed into the bed. “I don’t think you can hurt me, but if you do, I’ll tell you and won’t just kick your ass for it.” A small chuckle escaped her lips, before opening one blue eye to peer down at him, the smile slowly fading.

     “Not the worst I could do?”

     He sounded nearly incredulous, pulling back just a ilm to look her in the eye. Emmanellain often forgot she was … not of Ishgardian blood. The concepts of bastards didn’t carry the same weight in other places, he had learned - … the other city-states across the realm did not treat them as Ishgard did. Nor did they shun the mere idea of preventing it in the first place …

     “I just - … don’t want to ruin your adventure, Koya. Or - … anything else, and doing that - in you - could - …”

     Could make you no better than Haurchefant’s mother, he knew. But the words would not come to be.

     His face became aflame at her words, a shy, silly little expression morphing onto his features. Maybe he shouldn’t … dwell so much on things she didn’t seem to mind. That was how these things worked, right? If she wasn’t worried about where he spent himself… neither should he. Especially if she seemed alright with the idea of elsewhere.

     Next time - …

     “– Let me make it up to you,” he said, rushed. No, no - he wasn’t going to leave her hanging like that - Emmanellain could already feel the disbelief dripping off of his elder brothers if they caught wind of his actions. And … he didn’t want her to leave their encounter without something to tell for it.

     (He didn’t want her to leave, yet, at all.)

     “if - … you’ll let me,” he amended, “I can - try to make it up to you. Now. I’m rightly spent, but - … you deserve to be, too. If I’m allowed.”

     If he were able. And even if he weren’t, he would try.

“Could?” Koya echoed briefly in the wake of their separation, differing shades of blue meeting in the moment as air flushed between them. “My adventure wouldn’t end because of you doin’ that in me. Would it?” A flicker of her eyes downward, as if to peer at the spear that would pierce her once more might be more akin to a lance than she anticipated. “If you think I couldn’t walk after, I have to break it to you, but I have a lot of energy.” A cocked grin arose along cherry hued lips. “You’ve sparred with me to know that.”

The repercussions of what it fully entailed didn’t click in her mind. She was a hybrid, the rumor of their inability was breaths on the wind, but it didn’t bring any thought to her now. Not when this was the first time she had removed her barriers entirely for someone.

She paused at his offer, her cheeks flaring with color. “M-make…” She floundered for a moment before containing her tongue. “Make it up to me?” The question drifted, not entirely certain how he planned to do such a thing. Certainly if he was spent, then it would be no more than time before anything more could happen.

But there were other ways, and the thought of it made her face turn violently red, just as it had when she had been so certain that he would pierce the veil.

“I-I…” She swallowed down the rising fear and excitement with an audible gulp as she nodded slowly, her gaze cast away from him and fingers groping for the covers over her. “If you want to make it up to me, I’m not goin’ to stop you, since of course you’re damn allowed.” Her lips puckered slightly, Koya feeling the nervousness bristle up her neck.

“Emmanellian, you think that I’d be here right now like this with you if you weren’t allowed?” It was her turn to seek out hiding her features, now upset that she had lobbed the pillow so far from grasp. “If…” She trailed some, pulling her knees up a little, arm moving over her chest almost protectively. It was a shyness that never seemed to be about the woman when in any other situation. 

Only before him, where her feelings lay bare.

     Emmanellain was so far in his own mind that the bed shifting beside him didn’t register - not positively, at the least. This girl - this woman - had slayed monsters and traversed nigh the entire world, to return to him. She had taken on beasts he had cowered in the face of, ridden on airships the like that made him nearly nauseous.

     And he had failed her. After all their pining and pawing, almost-there’s and dancing around whether they wanted to do the thing or not - he had failed.

     He felt the tell-tale constrict in his throat, the sting in the corners of his eyes of tears, right before she reached over and ripped the cushion from his grasp. In the moment following, Emmanellain’s lip caught in his teeth, a knee-jerk reaction to hide it quivering.

     “I - … No, I’m not hurt, I -” oh, to the seventh hell and beyond. Even with her reassurance, he dug his palms into his eyes, a shaky breath shuddering his shoulders - and then a laugh, lacking any attempt at mirth. “It was - it was really nice, but - I started - … I … was so worried about - doing it in you that I just - … fucked it up. All of it.”

     And then he had simply panicked, and his resulting embarrassment at what a short showing he’d given her had taken over any thoughts he had. Emman knew he wasn’t meant to finish that fast, or finish without the lady, or in the lady when they weren’t married, and -

     “I was so caught up in - … all the things I’m supposed to do right - … that I did everything all wrong.”

     And she was so earnest. He shifted, turning to face her, a soft arm wrapping around her waist and pulling Koya into a lopsided hug. He then buried his face in her neck, admitting,

     “You did nothing wrong! I - almost - … came in you, and that’s wrong. I didn’t ask before, and I just - … I’m sorry.”

     (How many times had his father’s mistake been drilled into him? How many times had the term bastard been thrown around in his family for him to ignore what caused it? He knew better. He did, but it had happened so fast that he didn’t consider another option until it was dripped onto her thighs.)

     His grip on her tightened, before a final, meager sentence left him.

     “–… If I could go back and change it, I would.”

So it hadn’t been a shot of pain that had ceased their union, his laugh, though normally like a salve to any wound upon her, was listless and only stirred a frown from Koya’s features. Plucking at the words, she wished that he would speak plainly to her, her comprehension mounting on the events and the broken message he offered to her. Slowly the pieces were starting to come together in her mind, but Emman had such an innate way of obliterating her thoughts with ease. 

Such as he did with pulling her close, despite the level of intimacy they had just shared, such an action made her nearly twitch in his grasp. A hard swallow as she shifted her chin down, his large ear brushing along her lips as heat arose across her cheeks. 

Parting them slightly, Koya glanced away, her arm coming to encircle around his shoulders, tugging him closer to her. “Stupid.” She muttered against his lobe, tilting her cheek to brush into the thick dark locks. “The only thin’ you did ‘wrong’ was thinkin’ you were doin’ somethin’ wrong.” 

Her breath harbored the small upturn of her mouth, pale eyes hiding behind dark lashes as she let out a gentle sigh of comfort from his embrace. Nothing had particularly been off for what had happened, but just the two had enjoyed themselves far too much, climax so easily reached in new found pleasure. 

“Comin’ in me...That’s not the worst thin’ you could do, dummy.” Koya mused against his ear, calloused fingers drifting lightly against his back. A comfort to him in the midst of clouding embarrassment. “And if you have to ask, then the answer is that it’s okay. Though, if you don’t feel like it, maybe uh...” 

There was a shrug from her frame, shifting perked, bared nipples against his chest. “Tell me and uh...Shoot it elsewhere? Not that I want to end up sticky, but...it might be kinda nice...Maybe?” Koya swallowed, dipping her head to bury against his, a shaking breath made as she tried to form some sort of reassurance. Something that could pull him from his throws. 

Finding herself in his chambers had been nearly half a miracle.

Ever since that encounter with him, blade to fist, then his arms around her, Emmanellain could not escape her thoughts. Strange to have anything aside from the goal of strength at hand, her body had taken to instead grounding itself into shards against the training dummies and enemies outside the borders of Ishgard. Bloodied, bruised, every time she would come back to spend a little time with the youngest Fortemps, just able to jest and relish in his company.

It had been many, many moons after that, when she had returned to Ishgard from her excursion to the other shard, his company yearned for beyond the kisses they had shared before her departure. Her intent had been alike any other time to spend with him, breaking down the walls that she threw up to keep herself from divulging any weakness before anyway, but impassionate kisses gave way to carnal desires, the very fiber of her being missing him. His touch, his breath, everything that made Emman exactly why he was.

And she burned for more, needed to feel skin to skin.

His shyness had never bothered her beyond the walls of the chamber, but now, exposed and prostrated before him, her own well of anxiety began to rise in her stomach. All until finally, his name left her lips alongside the reassurances that broke down both of their insecurities.

A pain, but not like any other. It felt pleasant, sending warmth throughout her system, his name uttered once more, a rising passion mounting into something unfamiliar that she wished to grasp at. Koya whimpered, every ilm of strength leaving her to swell in this feeling he gave her, he could have done anything he wished and she would have accepted without complaint. “E-emman…!”

Her trill cut short with his sudden pull away from her, the heat increasing inside of her suddenly vanishing and replaced with the sticky shot upon her thigh. Surprise illuminated her face as he seemed to wish to clean it, did what he could, then flopped beside her, the humiliation exuding off his form.

She barely had enough time to fully access what had happened, and when it finally clicked, her rosy cheeks turned brighter.

Pulling up a stray sheet to cover her aroused state, her frame shifted onto the side, staring at Emman as he continued to mumble his apologies into the pillow. Embarrassment tugged at her to simply vanish from the room and go expend the excess energy upon a training dummy, but rather she kept her place. Lifting a hand to grab a fist full of the cushion and lift it from his features, her pale blue eyes were direct upon him before shifting away nervously.

“Shut up.” It didn’t have the hard edge to it, almost reassuring in a way as she nestled herself closer, throwing the pillow up further on the bed above their heads so he would not be able to easily reach immediately. Lips came to press against his cheek as she kept her gaze trained away from him, almost uncertain of what else to do. To say.

Words were never the strong suite for either of them.

“I don’t…know much about all of this shit, but…I doubt this was fuckin’ right.” She breathed out, pursing her lips briefly before shifting her eyes to finally look at him. “But…right before, well, th-that. It felt nice, and I don’t know what fuckin’ happened but…” Oh, this was incredibly difficult, each word tossing in her head as she tried to figure out some semblance of what to make of their minute love making that had occurred.

Could it even be called that for what had just happened?

For an Elezen, Urianger is on the smaller side, packing "only" 10 and a half inches. His girth is decent, his hand can easily overlap on it

Osiris has a hemipenis (unless modern verse) and his is a foot long, with girth to match

Eugene unfortunately only has about five inches, but very girthy.

NSFW Headcanons || Always accepting

@valorxdrive​ asked: 💭 - Which sexual desire are they too embarrassed about to tell anyone? And in which situation would it be obvious enough to show?, ❤ : Where on their body is your muse most sensitive?, ∀ : Your muse’s favorite position? (For Koya n' Aqua!)

Which sexual desire are they too embarrassed about to tell anyone? And in which situation would it be obvious enough to show?

In most cases, it’s all sexual desires for Aqua. She has to remain the prim and proper one to be a Master and follow in Eraqus’ footsteps, so seeming standoffish when it comes to such things is mostly how she buries any and all needs away. However, she has noticed that whenever it is dark out, she tends to feel more frisky, and it is due to the prolonged exposure in the world of darkness that let such mental chains loosen. If she starts to let out some of the darkness within her too, a partner can easily see her desires for something beyond kisses arise. 

Where on their body is your muse most sensitive?

This is actually her stomach! It is a sensitive area near the core of her body and can mean her partner can go in any direction, which is an effective tease. It also overall makes her feel both safe and tense when her stomach is touched, so she only reveals it whenever she feels safe around someone. 

Your muse’s favorite position?

NSFW Headcanons || Always accepting

@valorxdrive​​ asked: 💭 - Which sexual desire are they too embarrassed about to tell anyone? And in which situation would it be obvious enough to show?, ❤ : Where on their body is your muse most sensitive?, ∀ : Your muse’s favorite position? (For Koya n' Aqua!)

I’ll split this up into two seperate asks, so first up is Koya!

Which sexual desire are they too embarrassed about to tell anyone? And in which situation would it be obvious enough to show?

Koya, for all her strength and ready to fight, she is incredibly embarrassed that her weakness is actually being placed into a submissive position. With her goals constantly keeping her thinking of how to overcome and be strong, to take control of the situation, it’s a huge turn on for her to be overwhelmed (by someone she cares for!) and placed to their mercy. Only showing her lover that side of her to beg for them, because she is able to put aside her pride and show her weakness to them. 

It’s obvious when she’s incredibly wounded or alone with someone after she’s mustered up the courage to face her feelings (which, ties into her submissive nature, since she cannot bring herself to overcome and lay them out, instead tending to avoid or be more akin to a tsundere) and won’t push for anything, waiting for the first move from her partner. 

Where on their body is your muse most sensitive?

It is a tie between her chest and the base of her neck. Both are spots she guards heavily, if with armor or her massive amount of fluffy hair, but small touches can make her melt easily, getting her to also show the aforementioned submissiveness. 

Your muse’s favorite position?