Scathach | Fate/grand Order - Fanart

The biting wind of the Scottish Highlands whipped around the solitary tower, a mournful song that seemed to echo the tempest brewing within Scathach’s heart. Outside, the twilight bled across the bruised sky, painting the rugged landscape in shades of amethyst and charcoal. Inside, however, the air was thick with a different kind of storm, one born of longing and a forbidden desire that had simmered for far too long.

She sat by the hearth, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows that played across the worn leather of her training gear. Each crackle of the fire seemed to whisper secrets, secrets of a future she’d only dared to glimpse in her mind’s eye. Her gaze was distant, fixed on the embers, but her thoughts were far from the present. They were with him, the one who had somehow managed to pierce through her hardened defenses, the one whose presence had become a constant ache in her soul.

Gae Bulg, her faithful spear, leaned against the stone wall, a silent sentinel. But tonight, its usual sharp aura felt dulled, overshadowed by the insistent thrum of her own blood. He had stayed longer than usual, his lingering presence a tangible force in the small, austere room. He had been practicing with her, his earnestness and burgeoning strength a constant source of a peculiar, unsettling pride within her. Yet, beneath that pride, a deeper current flowed, one that was far more primal, far more… human.

She remembered the way he’d looked at her earlier, after a particularly grueling sparring session. His breath had come in ragged gasps, his muscles slick with sweat, his eyes, usually so bright with youthful fire, held a newfound intensity as they met hers. It was a look that spoke of more than just respect for her teachings, more than just admiration for her skill. It was a look that mirrored the yearning she felt, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that had been building between them for weeks.

The silence stretched, broken only by the wind and the fire. Scathach traced the intricate patterns on her gauntlet with a fingertip, her nails catching on the aged metal. She was the Warrior Queen, the legendary master of the Land of Shadows, a figure of myth and power. Yet, in this moment, she felt like a girl, naive and vulnerable, caught in the grip of an emotion she had long suppressed. Her students were meant to be just that – students. But he was different. He had a light that even the shadows of her realm could not extinguish, a resilience that drew her in, and a raw, untamed passion that resonated with the fiercest parts of her own spirit.

A soft cough from the doorway startled her, pulling her back from her reverie. He stood there, a silhouette against the dimly lit corridor, his eyes finding hers in the gloom. He still wore his training attire, slightly disheveled, his hair a mess from the day’s exertion. He looked… hesitant, a rare sight for him, but one that only amplified her own anticipation.

“Scathach?” His voice was a low murmur, carrying a question that seemed to hang in the air, laced with unspoken meaning. He took a step into the room, his movements tentative, as if unsure of his welcome. The firelight caught his features, highlighting the subtle flush on his cheeks, the slight parting of his lips.

Scathach rose slowly, her body moving with a grace honed by centuries of combat. She felt the weight of his gaze on her, and a shiver, not of cold, traced its way down her spine. “You have stayed,” she stated, her voice a low purr, deeper than usual. It was not a question, but an invitation. Her eyes, usually sharp and piercing, were softened by a new kind of hunger, a desire that had been meticulously banked, waiting for the right spark.

He nodded, taking another step closer. The air between them seemed to crackle, charged with the unspoken words, the shared glances, the countless hours spent in close proximity. “I… I wanted to ensure I had understood everything,” he said, his voice a little rougher now. “Your lessons are… invaluable. But tonight, I feel as though there is more I wish to learn.”

The unspoken invitation was clear. He wanted to learn more than combat. He wanted to learn the secrets that lay dormant within her, the passion that she, the seemingly unshakeable Warrior Queen, held captive. A slow smile curved her lips, a predatory, yet undeniably sensual, expression that promised both danger and exquisite pleasure. She knew exactly what he was asking, and her heart, for the first time in a very long time, beat with an exhilarating rhythm that was entirely his making.

“There are many lessons to be learned in the Land of Shadows,” she said, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. She walked towards him, her steps deliberate, her eyes never leaving his. The distance between them closed, and as she drew near, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint, intoxicating scent of sweat and youth. He didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, his gaze locked onto hers, a silent testament to his readiness. He was a student, yes, but tonight, he was also the one who had awakened the dormant desires of his master.

She stopped just inches away, close enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest. Her hand, still clad in its gauntlet, reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the stubble that had begun to appear there. His breath hitched at her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before snapping open again, filled with a raw vulnerability that made her pulse quicken. “And what lesson, precisely, do you wish to learn tonight?” she murmured, her thumb brushing over his lower lip, feeling its soft, yielding texture.

He leaned into her touch, a silent surrender. “I… I want to understand… *you*,” he confessed, his voice barely a breath. “Not just the legend, but the woman. The… desire that lies beneath the armor.” His words were bold, a confession that hung heavy in the charged air. He was baring his soul, offering himself to her, and Scathach found herself both thrilled and utterly captivated by his courage.

Her fingers tightened slightly on his jaw, drawing his face closer. “Desire is a potent weapon,” she whispered, her gaze raking over his face, her eyes lingering on his lips. “And it is best wielded by those who understand its power.” She tilted her head, her own lips parting slightly. “Are you prepared for such a lesson?”

He met her gaze, his own eyes blazing with a mixture of apprehension and fierce determination. “Yes,” he breathed, the word a promise. And then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a tentative, yet electrifying, kiss. It was a kiss that held the weight of all the unspoken words, all the simmering tension, all the years of disciplined restraint. It was the spark that ignited the inferno.

The kiss deepened, his initial hesitation melting away under the heat of her response. Scathach met his passion with a ferocity that surprised even herself. Her hands moved from his jaw to cup his face, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, crushing their bodies together. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she felt the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against her thighs. A moan, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, escaped her lips as their tongues danced, a fiery ballet of exploration and surrender. He tasted of courage and burgeoning desire, a intoxicating blend that sent a wave of heat through her entire body. Her own body responded with an urgency she hadn't felt in ages, a primal need to consume and be consumed. She was the teacher, but in this moment, she was also the student, learning the exquisite language of his burgeoning lust.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. The air in the room thrummed with an intensity that made the very stones of the tower seem to vibrate. He looked at her, his eyes wide with wonder and a deep, profound longing that mirrored her own. Scathach could feel her own face flushed, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The carefully constructed walls she had built around her heart had crumbled, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, yet exhilarated. This was more than just a physical encounter; it was a merging of souls, a testament to the undeniable connection that had formed between them.

“Scathach…” he whispered, his voice a reverent sigh. He reached up, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin. “I… I didn’t know…”

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of his skin against hers. “Nor did I,” she admitted, her voice husky with emotion. “But now… now we do.” She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his, a silent promise of what was to come. The embers in the hearth glowed brighter, mirroring the inferno that had been ignited within them. The lesson had begun, and it was one that would be etched into their very beings, a testament to the untamed passions that lay dormant, waiting to be awakened.

She led him by the hand, their fingers intertwined, deeper into the heart of her tower, towards the private chambers that had witnessed so much solitude. The shadows that usually clung to the walls seemed to recede, replaced by the flickering light of a new kind of fire. Each step they took was a testament to their growing intimacy, a shared journey into a world of forbidden pleasure. Her chambers were austere, yet imbued with a sense of ancient power, a place where legends were forged. Tonight, however, it would become a sanctuary for a different kind of legend, one born of passion and a profound, undeniable connection.

As they reached the large, comfortable bed, draped in dark, rich fabrics, Scathach turned to face him. The firelight cast a warm, inviting glow, highlighting the raw desire in his eyes. She reached out, her hands tracing the buttons of his tunic, her fingers lingering on the bare skin beneath. His breath hitched again at her touch, his body tensing in anticipation. She slowly, deliberately, unfastened each button, revealing the sculpted muscles of his chest, the smooth expanse of his skin. Each movement was slow, deliberate, a dance of seduction and growing arousal.

He watched her, his gaze hungry, his own hands rising to meet hers, his fingers fumbling slightly with the fastenings of her own practical, yet revealing, attire. Scathach encouraged him, her lips curving into a slow smile as she felt his touch. The armor of her warrior queen persona began to shed, revealing the woman beneath, a woman who craved his touch as much as he craved hers. His hands were a revelation, gentle yet firm, exploring the curves of her body with a hesitant reverence that only amplified her own desire. He was eager to learn, and she was more than willing to teach him the language of pleasure, a language she herself was rediscovering through his touch.

Soon, their clothes lay in discarded heaps on the floor, their bodies bare and exposed to the warm glow of the fire. Scathach met his gaze, a silent question in her eyes. He answered it with a confident, yet still somewhat nervous, smile. He stepped closer, his hands finding her waist, pulling her into an intimate embrace. She felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her belly, and a low moan escaped her throat. He was ready, and so was she. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of their aroused bodies mingling with the faint aroma of the herbs that perfumed the room.

“You are beautiful, Scathach,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire as he gazed at her, his eyes devouring every curve, every line of her form. He reached out, his fingers tracing the soft skin of her shoulders, her collarbones, a trail of fire in their wake. Scathach closed her eyes, savoring each touch, each whispered word. She was accustomed to being admired for her strength, her power, but this… this was different. This was an admiration that saw past the legend, that embraced the woman, the lover. Her own hands moved to explore his body, her fingers tracing the hard planes of his abdomen, the taut muscles of his back. She reveled in the feel of his skin, the warmth of his body pressed against hers. He was a canvas, and she was eager to paint it with her own desires.

He guided her to the bed, their bodies still entwined, and gently laid her down on the soft cushions. He followed her, hovering above her, his eyes burning with an intense, possessive heat. She arched her back, her hips rising to meet his, a silent invitation. He knelt between her legs, his gaze dropping to her core, and Scathach felt a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure wash over her. He was mesmerized, and a slow, wicked smile spread across her lips. She was the legendary Gae Bolg, but tonight, she was also the prey, and he was the hunter, driven by a desire that was as fierce and untamed as her own.

“I want to taste you,” he breathed, his voice a ragged plea. He lowered his head, his tongue darting out to lick the tip of her clit. Scathach gasped, her nails digging into the bedsheets as a searing wave of pleasure shot through her. His tongue was skilled, teasing, exploring every sensitive inch of her, driving her towards the precipice of ecstasy. She cried out his name, her body writhing beneath his ministrations, lost in the exquisite sensation. He continued his ministrations, his tongue working with a focused intensity, driving her higher and higher. She felt herself spiraling, the edges of her vision blurring as she neared her climax.

“Please…” she managed to gasp, her voice strained. “Don’t stop…” He obeyed, his mouth moving with relentless precision, pushing her over the edge. A shuddering orgasm wracked her body, her cries echoing in the chamber. He continued to pleasure her even as her body trembled, drawing out the exquisite sensations, ensuring she experienced the full force of her release. As the last tremors subsided, Scathach lay breathless, her body slick with sweat, her mind reeling from the intensity of the experience. He looked up at her, his eyes shining with a mixture of triumph and adoration. He had brought her to the brink, and now, she was ready to return the favor, to show him a pleasure he had only dreamed of.

With a newfound strength, she pulled him closer, her hands finding his hips. She guided him, her movements sure and practiced, until he was positioned between her legs. His erection, hard and throbbing, was a stark contrast to her softened, pleasure-filled core. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around him, her lips enclosing him with a possessive grip. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pure pleasure, his hands clenching at his sides. Scathach reveled in the taste of him, the raw, masculine essence that flooded her senses. She worked him with a practiced expertise, her tongue teasing and caressing, her lips drawing him deeper, ensuring every inch of him was pleasured.

She felt him begin to swell within her mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was close, so close. She increased her pace, her tongue becoming more insistent, her lips tightening around him. He moaned her name, his body arching. “Scathach… ahhh… I’m going to…” She continued her ministrations, her mouth working him until he could no longer hold back. With a guttural cry, he surged within her mouth, his thick, hot cum flooding her throat. She swallowed greedily, savoring every drop, the taste of his release a triumphant testament to their shared passion.

He slumped against her, his chest heaving, his body slick with sweat. Scathach held him close, her arms wrapped around him, her heart beating in sync with his. The air was heavy with the scent of their lovemaking, a testament to the intensity of their encounter. She kissed his damp forehead, her lips lingering. “You are a quick study,” she whispered, her voice filled with a newfound warmth and affection.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, a deep, satisfied glow within them. “And you are a magnificent teacher,” he returned, his voice filled with a reverence that made her heart swell. He kissed her again, a long, languid kiss that spoke of deep contentment and a promise of more to come. The fire crackled, casting a warm, intimate glow, as they lay tangled together, the lingering traces of their passion a testament to the unforgettable night they had shared. The Warrior Queen had found an unexpected warmth in the arms of her student, and in their shared embrace, a new kind of legend was being written, one of desire, surrender, and a love that transcended the battlefield.

He nudged her gently, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint. “But I believe there are still many things I wish to learn, my Queen,” he murmured, his hand tracing the curve of her hip. Scathach chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that was full of promise. The night was far from over, and the lessons she would impart were only just beginning. The stars outside might have been cold and distant, but within the tower, a fire had been ignited, a passion that would burn brightly for a long, long time to come. Her gaze, usually so stern and unyielding, was now soft, filled with an affection that mirrored his own. This was not merely an encounter; it was the dawning of something far more profound, a bond forged in the crucible of shared desire and mutual adoration. She pulled him closer, savoring the feel of his body against hers, the steady beat of his heart against her own. This was the beginning of their story, a tale whispered in the shadows of the Land of Shadows, a tale of a warrior queen and the one who dared to awaken her heart, and her body, with a passion that would consume them both.

“Indeed,” she whispered back, her lips brushing against his, her fingers tracing the line of his spine, each vertebra a small bump beneath her fingertips. “And I am eager to teach you.” The wind howled outside, but within their sanctuary, a different kind of storm was brewing, one of pleasure, of passion, and of a love that had finally found its voice. The night was young, and the lessons of the Warrior Queen were only just beginning to unfold, promising a future filled with both fierce devotion and exquisite intimacy.