#ffxiv reader insert

A century of life and yet G'raha found himself fidgeting like an adolscent.

The anxious swish of his tail, the stiff rigidity of his ears, the twitch of his fingers, all while he watched you bid farewell to an especially flustered-looking Koana, a meeting of goodwill now concluded. To maintain his own inner peace, he just minded that perhaps his green bespectacled counterpart's red cravat was a bit tighter than usual today rather than be caused by more amorous intentions.

And yet, the moment you appeared before him, your demeanor chipper, instinct won over experience.

His hand shot out first, his words in close pursuit.

"A thousand and more apologies for this shameless display. However--!"

He spoke in a rush, hurried by lovelorn affection, matched by the way his arms moved to circle around you in a tight embrace.

Your neck served as the perfect spot for him to bury his face in, heat blooming across his cheeks far more than the humid heat of Tural could cause, all as he confessed,

I’m talking childish levels of banter, one step away from the two of them grabbing either one of your arms and beginning a tug of war match. They would conceal their jealousy during any important meetings, when it’s time to work they are all business and decorum, too focused on trying to impress their hero with their prowess and tact to worry about what the other is doing. But afterwards, before the assembly splits up and everyone is just milling around sharing pleasantries? Oh, it’s on.

G’raha talking just a smidge too loudly about all the fun and exciting adventures he has gotten to share with you (and will continue to share with you far into the future), making sure Aymeric is within earshot so he can clearly hear each little intimate detail. Aymeric in turn excusing  himself from whoever he is speaking with so he can interject into the conversation, standing just a little too close to you as he does so. He places his hand on the small of your back while he regales the party with tales of his time together with you, recanting with a fond twinkle in his eye all the time you spent together as you brought about the end of the Dragonsong War. He focused most of his time elaborating on the moments he spent alone with you and the greatness the two of you were able to achieve together, how well you both complimented each other.

They both get under each other’s skin so easily. G’raha is essentially living Aymeric’s dream life, getting to go on countless daring adventures all over the world (and beyond) with the person he treasures the most. And Aymeric intimately knows you in ways G’raha does not, as Aymeric has been a beloved companion and confidante in your life before G’raha even had a presence. For so long G’raha simply existed as an unreachable, detached entity from you, only able to dream of an eventual reunion (that on most days seemed like an unobtainable dream). He feels like he’s constantly playing catch up, while Aymeric consistently frets that he is being left behind. Both men know sides of their hero that the other does not, and both have experienced moments with you that the other will never share, and that gets to them.

Of course all the other scions notice this and tease them both about it mercilessly. Despite the heavy handedness of it all and their desire to always one up the other, both are always exhibiting remarkably good behavior around you to the point where you yourself are a little clueless as to the extent of this rivalry. And they work hard to keep it that way! No sense in looking like a fool in front or the person they love and admire the most, even if they are hell bent on being as petty as possible to each other behind the scenes to claim the top spot in your heart.

Longer, saucier version here because I’m trash

Sparring with Haurchefant comes a bit as a surprise. It’s not as if he had ambushed you fresh off the teleport to Camp Dragonhead’s aetheryte, but declaring his intent to do chivalrous battle with you the moment you step into the camp’s grand hall is certainly close enough.

You’re a bit too distracted by how he looks and sounds to reject the offer outright–he laughs as he challenges you, claiming that you’ve been gone far too long, he needs to see if your skills are as good as they were before. It’s an excuse to get out of his chair and away from paperwork, you figure, and merely gaze upon his delighted expression as he all but vaults over his desk to drag you off.

So, to say the least, sparring with Haurchefant is not exactly what you intended on doing in your first ten minutes of arriving in the familiar Coerthas camp.

He moves faster than you assumed of him. There’s a grace to each strike, a power pressed forward without an ounce of restraint behind the sword and it comes at you with a swiftness that leaves your head nearly spinning. It’s a challenge to merely parry and dodge each strike let alone try to offer one in turn–the flurry of motions leave you and your sparring partner moving in what feels like an intricate dance, but to an outsider it appears to be but a game of cat and mouse–and the cat is the one losing.

It’s a warm day for the Coerthas Highlands, though it hardly means a thing when you feel as if your tail and ears are about to freeze right off of your body. It’s not as if you’re poorly dressed for the climate either–layers of clothing cover your body from head to toe–but it seems as if nothing can keep the chill from settling deep in your bones.

The cold proves rather distracting, at the very least; if not that, then the man trading blows with you certainly comes as a very close second, with how you see his body stretch and move with each cleave of his dulled blade towards you.

“You’ve gotten faster!” Haruchefant declares with mirth, sounding none too breathless despite the intricate dance of your bodies. “Not to say you weren’t quick before, dear friend–I daresay your combat skills are-”

You rush at him, taking the opening unveiled as he speaks with the slightest touch of guilt–he looks so happy in his words, pride unbound for you in way few others ever speak with.

But at least it’s quick, your body tackling into his chest and sending the both of you falling to the ground. There’s a dull thump as both of you hit the cold earth, you overtop Haurchefant’s body, and a sharper noise as his weapon clatters some yalms away.

For what feels like too many moments all you and the Elezen man do is stare at one another, blinking in your mutual surprise for separate reasons.

“Dear warrior of light,” he says, making a gesture with one hand and no move to neither get up or remove you from atop him. “If you had desire of me beneath you, all you need do is ask for the pleasure.”

You feel a rush of heat come to your cheeks as you realize the position is hardly innocent; your legs astride the other’s hips and your upper body hovering over him is certainly not a pose you wish to linger with. You deny any bubble of warmth elsewhere in your body and rather scramble up and onto your feet, then begin to brush off some dirt and snow from your knees in an attempt to act distracted.

“Do you have desire to continue sparring?” you ask, hoping to be swift about the change in subject, lest the two of you start talking about the moment just before. “Because as much as I’d love to, milord, I actually came to see you with a purpose.”

When you turn your eyes you see Haurchefant looking at you with crossed arms and a smile on his face, a glimmer of amusement and air of words unspoken words not easily missed.

“I did, after all, offer Dragonhead as a respite from your adventures and battles,” he muses softly. “Please take my apology, dear friend, I merely dragged you in my haste to be away from the paperwork piling upon my desk.”

Despite seeing him without his hauberk and plate armor, he’s still quite the imposing figure–the shape of his woolen jacket and pants seem to suit him rather well, in fact, though you try not to stare in any way you can’t argue is mere professional curiosity.

Haurchefant sighs, tugging you out of your thoughts, then takes approaches you with that same smile, soft and genuine, on his lips.

“Come then, let us enjoy the warm tidings of a hearth and a shared drink,” he gestured back towards the grand hall and began walking with expectation for you to follow. “I’m certain you’ve grown cold from our exhilarating exchange, so let’s see about warming you up, hm?”

"If only they can see their valiant hero mewling so desperately at the hands of such a nefarious villain."

There was to be no peace in Dawn's Respite.

A push at the door from would give way to the sordid entanglement transpiring upon one of the nursing beds.

The salacious slapping of skin, creak of the mattress, whines swallowed back in a futile attempt of silence.

The Vow of Reason had been feeling lost for some time.

What felt like eons ago, it all started beneath the gleaming brilliance of Tural's sun, amidst the lush tropical flora of Kozama'uka. While he strode forward as he guided Urianger and Thancred to their next destination, gloved hand tugging at his crimson cravat for some futile attempt at relieving the trapped heat beneath his collar, it was at that happenstance that his party encountered Wuk Lamat's entourage.

With you, her trusted partner in tow, of course.

As his ever boisterous sister went on about how the Rite of Succession had been coming along thus far, his eyes flickered over to where you stood by, your expression amused at her bombastic recollection.

While in retrospect that it made sense--what with instincts honed across the years to a near inhuman level--that your gaze would immediately shift to meet his with the realization that his attention was on yours, he found himself startled upon catching your stare.

Furthered even more by the wink you gave and the broadened quirk of your smile.

In that moment, cracks splintered upon the solidified foundations of of his reserved decorum, degrading further and further with the passing days.

"When I'm properly freed, I promise to make it up to you--I was and am quite the charmer, you know!"

Those words were said to you with sincerity. A bit bashful--rather embarrassed to even approach you with quite the heavy ask.

But most of all, he wanted to make sure that his humanity (or at least whatever was still left) was conveyed.

Because Thancred knew once you began to ease his long-harbored burden, his actions towards you would eclipse anything of his mortal self.

It had been so long, too long since he was afflicted with the curse by that godsdamned Lahabrea that turned him into this wicked beast. Far were the days of charming and bedding beauties across the land--instead, he was to haunt the forest as its condemned phantom: the Fatebreaker.

Still, the princess had no regrets, for as funny as she found her jester’s antics during the day, she enjoyed his company much more during the night. (love bites/marking, breeding, creampie)

"How amusing you are, princess~ Near the beloved prince of bloodstained gold, those darling lips of yours seem to be fixed in a frown."

Tracing his gloved thumb along your mouth, Fandaniel continued his observation with a chuckle, his dark eyes gleaming with their usual mischievousness just moments before seizing hold of your chin.

"However--"

Despite only being the size of his thumb, perhaps you and your new love could find some creative ways to meet this new need of yours? (Micro/Macro, teasing, man handling, orgasm denial, questionable breeding kink) 2/2

Was this mere curiosity or a clawing infatuation?

It was a question that had lingered in Themis's mind as of late, having taken root the moment his hand had extended forward, his fingertips curling in a welcoming beckon as he had you--no bigger than a doll --approach and sit right upon his palm.

While this initial gesture, this proposal to offer you sanctuary in this era lost to the ages, was pure in its intention, what was currently transpiring with you was anything but.

In the time since your first meeting, Themis found joy in getting to know and understand you better.

And certainly, he was still gaining deeper insight into your personality, your likes and such, but as he continued to observe with focused eyes and a slack jaw, he was quickly becoming familiar with what pleasures you most.