#Clive Reader

[that1geek06]

Me scrolling thru tags:

I just want a good fluff story 😔

Also me one hour into a deeply plotted smut that has an even dirtier part two:

YES!! GIVE ME MORE!! 😩😈

[artdcnaldson]

*taps mic* "Ahem... jerking Art off and making him swallow his own cum"

The crowd boos. "That's disgusting!" One yells. "He'd never do that!" Another shouts. Then, everyone gasps and turns around as someone in the back stands and speaks up. "Yes, he would." Says no other than Arthur Clive Donaldson himself.

Alternatively.... cumming in you and then eating you out...

And the crowd goes... home!

🚬

Sighhhh <3

But yeah <3 Especially thinking very hard about jerking off sweet little 2006 Art. Perhaps even comforting him in your hotel room after he's lost the junior US Open final </3

He wants to feel desired, like he's won something. So he feels vindicated when you're clinging to his side, all starry eyed and happy to be in his presence. Patrick is across the room talking to Tashi, showing off his trophy with that dazzling, perfect, smarmy, frustrating smile of his. So he tries to focus on you, as you tell him about how you also won in the mixed doubles tournament, and you saw his final that morning and you thought he played really well.

It doesn't take much convincing to get him to your hotel room— he didn't really want to stay at the afterparty anyway, feeling like Anna Mueller with his stupid little plate engraved— Art Donaldson, runner up. He feels better on your bed, with your tongue down his throat, moaning into your mouth as you strip him out of the fancy outfit his grandma had bought him, expecting a win. A nice white button down, black slacks, his grandad's cufflinks. Even a goddamn tie.

"You're so hot," you murmur against his lips, once he's down to his boxers and you can feel him hard, tenting the fabric. "Can I touch you?"

And, fuck, on a night like this, who is he to refuse?

Your hands are so so soft around him, slick from spit so he can glide in your palm. Slow, practiced. You kiss him so sweetly as you jerk him off, tongue brushing his, licking into his mouth. You can taste the soda he had at the party, the cigarette he'd puffed on while you waited for your shuttle back to the hotel.

"Jesus that's—" He trails off, hips bucking up into your fist, seeking more. But you set the pace, and you want this to be slow. So you just smile, nod and kiss his jaw. You twist your fist a bit and make him groan, so his head falls back and you can trail your hot kisses down his throat. "God, you're killing me."

You relish in having him like this— panting and falling apart in your hand, literally. Art Donaldson— golden boy on the court. You toy with him— slowing down when his moans get too fast, when you feel his balls drawing up and his cock pulsing... speeding up when you want to feel his breath hot, panting against your throat, his kisses insistent.

He doesn't even have time to warn you before he's spilling into your hand. Hot, thick ropes that drip between your fingers. He groans and buries his face in your shoulder, embarrassed by his inability to last during a simple handjob.

"Sorry, that's... sorry," He stammers, his cheeks pretty pink. His cock flags, just a bit between his thighs, and you know this isn't the first time you'll make him cum that night. Not even close.

You kiss his cheek once, then bring your fingers up to his lips. He hesitates, just a moment, before his tongue peeks out, lapping at his spend on your fingers. His nose wrinkles, just a bit at the unfamiliar taste, but he obeys, until there's no trace of him left on your palm other than his spit.

You kiss his lips and taste his cum on his tongue. It doesn't take long for him to get hard again.

[noyasbunny]

hottest guild men

spicy fics with mystogen x reader, gildarts x reader, natsu x reader, gray x reader, gajeel x reader

The quiet hum of the night settled over Magnolia, the glow of street lanterns casting flickering shadows against the cobblestone streets. You tightened your cloak around yourself, exhaling softly as you walked toward Fairy Tail’s guildhall. Your heart was still racing from the earlier mission—an ambush that should have been routine but nearly turned disastrous.

If he hadn’t shown up…

You stopped at the thought, closing your eyes for a moment.

Mystogan.

The elusive mage, a man who barely spoke, had arrived just in time, his magic swallowing your attackers in an instant. He had saved you without a word before vanishing like mist.

Just like always.

Frustration and something deeper—something dangerously close to longing—twisted inside you. You were tired of chasing shadows, tired of feeling his presence and never truly knowing him.

"Still thinking about me?"

The voice was quiet, but it sent a pulse of heat down your spine. You whirled around, and there he was, leaning against the stone wall of an alley, half-hidden in the darkness. The glow of the lanterns barely reached his masked face, but his eyes—those sharp, piercing eyes—burned into you.

"You always do that," you accused, stepping closer. "Disappear. Reappear. Never say anything."

Mystogan tilted his head slightly. "Would you rather I didn’t come at all?"

You hesitated. The truth sat heavy on your tongue. "No," you admitted, softer this time. "But I want to know why. Why do you always run?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours. Then, in a move so fast you barely registered it, he was in front of you, his body radiating warmth despite the cool night air.

"I run because staying close to you is dangerous." His voice was lower now, more intimate. "Because every time I see you, I want—"

He cut himself off, his gloved fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your chin just enough to make your breath hitch.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "Then stop running."

A sound escaped him—half a sigh, half a growl—before his fingers traced down your neck, gliding over the exposed skin at your collarbone. The sensation sent a shiver through you.

"You don’t understand what you’re asking for."

"Then show me."

That was all it took.

One moment, you were standing in the cool night air, and the next, you were pressed against the stone wall, his hands gripping your waist as his lips crashed into yours.

His kiss was demanding, claiming, filled with all the restraint he had been holding back. His gloved fingers slid beneath the fabric of your cloak, pressing into your skin, mapping every inch of you as though committing it to memory.

You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling into the fabric of his cloak as he deepened the kiss, his body flush against yours. Every touch, every movement was controlled, deliberate—yet underneath it, you could feel it. The storm beneath his calm.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

"This… was a mistake," he murmured, though his grip on you didn’t loosen.

You smirked, brushing your fingers along his jaw, feeling the way he tensed under your touch. "Then why do you look like you want to do it again?"

His eyes darkened.

And just like that, restraint shattered.

The wind howled through the mountains, carrying the scent of damp earth and the lingering metallic tang of battle. You wiped the blood from your cheek—thankfully, not yours—and exhaled, your muscles burning from the fight. The ruins you had been sent to investigate were nothing but rubble now, thanks to the massive beast that had ambushed you.

And thanks to the man currently standing with his arms crossed, looking far too smug for someone who had arrived late to the fight.

"You had it handled?" Gildarts Clive chuckled, tilting his head as he surveyed the mess. His cloak fluttered in the wind, his battle-worn armor barely fastened, as if he hadn’t taken this mission seriously at all.

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I did."

He raised a brow, clearly amused. "Yeah? 'Cause from where I was standing, it looked like you were about to be monster chow."

You scowled. "I was fine."

His smirk widened. "Sure you were, sweetheart."

That damn nickname. You hated how your pulse jumped every time he said it, the way his deep, rough voice made it sound like something far more intimate.

"Don’t call me that," you muttered, turning away.

But Gildarts had never been one to let things go. In a blink, he was behind you, his presence overwhelming, his heat pressing against your back. His breath ghosted over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Why not?" His voice was lower now, teasing, but there was something else there. Something heavier.

You swallowed hard. "Because it—"

"Because it makes you think about things you shouldn't?" His hand rested lightly on your hip, fingers tracing slow circles through the fabric of your torn tunic. "Because it makes you wonder what it’d sound like if I whispered it a little closer?"

You should have stepped away. Should have told him to stop playing with you. But instead, you turned to face him, your breath catching when you realized just how close he was. His eyes burned into you, full of mischief, full of promises he wasn’t supposed to make.

"I—"

You didn’t get the chance to finish.

Gildarts moved fast—too fast—pressing you against the jagged stone wall of the ruins, his body pinning yours with a slow, deliberate pressure that had nothing to do with fighting. His fingers traced up your arm, slow and featherlight, until they reached your chin, tilting it just enough for him to meet your gaze.

"You know," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, "I’m not really good at playing nice."

You exhaled shakily. "Good thing I don’t want nice."

A slow grin spread across his face. "Yeah?"

And then his lips crashed into yours.

There was nothing gentle about it. Gildarts kissed like he fought—fierce, consuming, overwhelming in the best way. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, no air, no reason left in your mind.

His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that sent heat pooling in your core. You gripped his cloak, fisting the fabric as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing, coaxing, setting every nerve in your body alight.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. "Damn," he muttered, his voice husky. "You’re trouble."

You smirked, still breathless. "And you love it."

His laughter was low, rough, and undeniably wicked. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing his lips against your ear, "you have no idea."

The forest was quiet—too quiet. The eerie stillness sent a chill up your spine as you gripped your weapon, scanning the area for any signs of movement. The mission had seemed simple enough: track down a rogue dark guild causing trouble near Magnolia and put an end to their schemes.

But now, standing in the middle of the trees with the scent of burning magic lingering in the air, you had a sinking feeling that things were about to go very, very wrong.

A low growl rumbled behind you.

You barely had time to turn before a massive, scaled beast lunged from the shadows, its sharp claws aiming right for you. You braced yourself for impact—

Flames roared past you, slamming into the creature with devastating force. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, knocking you back a few steps as the beast screeched in agony.

You knew that fire anywhere.

A smirking, fire-haired dragon slayer stepped beside you, flames still licking at his fists. "You seriously thought you’d take this thing on alone?"

You shot Natsu a glare, your heart still hammering in your chest. "I had it under control."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure you did." His eyes flicked to the charred remains of the monster, then back to you with a teasing glint. "You should be thanking me, y’know."

You huffed. "Thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

But before you could say anything else, Natsu stepped closer. Too close. His heat enveloped you, even though his flames had long since died down. His expression shifted from teasing to something more intense, something that sent a completely different kind of heat rushing through you.

"You’re hurt," he murmured, his gaze trailing over your shoulder where your sleeve was torn, revealing a shallow cut.

"It’s nothing," you mumbled, but Natsu didn’t seem convinced.

His fingers brushed against your skin, warm and rough, sending a shiver through you. His touch lingered, his thumb tracing slow circles over your shoulder, and suddenly, your heartbeat had nothing to do with the fight you just had.

"You’re always so damn reckless," he muttered, his voice lower now, filled with something unfamiliar. Something dangerous.

You swallowed hard. "Like you’re one to talk."

Natsu’s smirk returned, but this time, there was something different about it. Something predatory. His free hand came up, curling around your waist, tugging you flush against him.

"Maybe," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, "but I don’t let people I care about get hurt."

Your breath hitched.

You should have said something—should have pushed him away, should have done anything except let yourself melt against him. But the way his fingers pressed into your skin, the way his body radiated heat against yours, made coherent thought impossible.

"Natsu—"

You didn’t get to finish.

His lips crashed against yours, hot and demanding, stealing the air from your lungs. His grip tightened on your waist as he pulled you even closer, his fire searing into you in the best possible way. His kiss was rough, wild, completely unrestrained, just like him.

A small gasp escaped you, and Natsu took full advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, coaxing, teasing, consuming. His hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as he pressed you against the nearest tree, trapping you between his body and the rough bark.

"You drive me crazy," he growled against your lips before kissing you again, harder this time, as if he was trying to prove a point.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as heat coiled in your stomach, setting every nerve in your body alight.

"Natsu—" you panted when he finally pulled back, his lips barely an inch from yours.

His smirk was wicked, his pupils blown wide with something untamed. "Say my name like that again, and I won’t be able to stop."

You shivered. "Then don’t."

A deep, rumbling growl left his throat before his lips were back on yours, and this time, there was no holding back.

And as the forest burned around you, you knew one thing for certain:

You would gladly let Natsu Dragneel consume you whole.

The cold wind bit at your skin as you stood in the middle of the frozen battlefield, your breath coming in heavy gasps. The mission had been an ambush—a group of dark wizards had set a trap, and now you were left bruised, exhausted, and struggling to stay on your feet.

But you weren’t alone.

Gray Fullbuster stood in front of you, shirtless as always, his body radiating raw power despite the ice magic coursing through his veins. His sharp eyes scanned the remaining enemies, his jaw tight with frustration.

"You okay?" His voice was lower than usual, rougher.

You nodded, trying to steady yourself. "I’m fine."

Gray scoffed. "Yeah? 'Cause you don’t look fine."

You hated the way your body reacted to him—how just the sight of him standing there, muscles tense and lips slightly parted, made your knees weak in a way that had nothing to do with the fight.

"Let’s just finish this," you muttered.

But before you could take another step, an enemy launched an attack from the shadows. A sharp blast of dark magic shot toward you, too fast to dodge.

You barely had time to react before Gray was in front of you, his body a shield as his ice magic erupted in an instant, blocking the attack. The force of the blast sent you stumbling back, and before you could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around your waist.

"Dammit," Gray cursed, holding you close. "You’re reckless."

"You’re one to talk," you shot back, but your voice came out breathless, your chest pressed against his bare skin.

Gray didn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightened, his fingers digging into your sides. His breath was warm against your ear, despite the cold surrounding you.

"You scared me," he muttered.

Your heart stuttered. "Gray—"

"Shut up," he growled, pulling back just enough to look at you. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with something dangerous, something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But then he kissed you.

It was sudden, almost desperate. His lips crashed against yours, and you barely had time to react before heat spread through you, completely at odds with the icy magic still lingering in the air. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you like he needed you, like letting go wasn’t an option.

A small gasp escaped you, and Gray took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing against yours, slow and intoxicating. His body pressed against yours, firm and unrelenting, as if he was trying to melt into you entirely.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

"You drive me insane," he muttered, his fingers trailing over your cheek.

You smirked, still breathless. "Good."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest before his lips found yours again, softer this time but just as hungry.

And in that moment, as the ice around you began to crack, you realized something:

Gray Fullbuster was cold, but with you, he burned.

The battlefield was chaos. Explosions lit up the sky, dust and debris clouding the air as you dodged another blast of magic. Your body ached, muscles screaming from the relentless fight, but you weren’t about to back down.

Not when your opponent was still standing.

With a sharp inhale, you steadied yourself, gripping your weapon tighter. The dark guild members had underestimated you, but that wouldn’t last long. You just had to hold out—

A shadow loomed behind you.

You barely had time to react before a massive force crashed down, sending shockwaves through the ground. You stumbled forward, only for a pair of strong, ironclad arms to wrap around your waist, yanking you out of harm’s way.

"The hell do ya think you’re doin’, woman?"

You groaned, blinking up at the familiar, red-eyed dragon slayer now standing over you. Gajeel Redfox.

"Saving your ass, apparently," you shot back.

Gajeel snorted, his grip on you firm even as he helped you back onto your feet. "More like the other way around. You looked like ya were about to get squashed."

You glared at him, though the heat radiating off his body was distracting. He was so damn solid, muscles tense from battle, his long black hair wild and messy from the fight.

Before you could argue, another enemy charged. Gajeel pushed you behind him with an easy strength, his body acting as an impenetrable wall.

"Stay back," he growled.

But you weren’t one to sit still. As Gajeel lunged forward, his iron fists colliding with the enemy, you moved with him, striking from behind.

"Oi, I told ya—"

"I don’t take orders," you interrupted, smirking as you flipped past him, dodging another attack.

Gajeel let out a low growl, and despite the fight raging around you, you could feel the heat between you both crackling like a live wire. He was watching you now, eyes dark with something deeper than just battle adrenaline.

Something you weren’t ready to acknowledge just yet.

But then, a sharp pain shot through your side.

A cry escaped you as you were sent flying backward, slamming into a pile of rubble. The impact knocked the wind out of you, your vision spinning.

"Shit," you gasped, trying to push yourself up.

Heavy footsteps thundered toward you, but before another attack could land—

A roar split through the battlefield.

Gajeel was on them in an instant, his iron magic ripping through the air with deadly precision. His normally cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something primal, something furious.

When the last enemy fell, Gajeel turned on his heel, stalking toward you with an intensity that made your heart pound for an entirely different reason.

"You okay?" His voice was rough, laced with barely restrained anger.

You managed a weak grin. "I’m fine—"

Gajeel didn’t let you finish.

One second, you were sitting up, and the next, he had you pinned against the nearest wall, his hands braced beside your head, caging you in. His breath was hot against your skin, his red eyes burning into yours.

"Ya scared the shit outta me," he muttered.

You swallowed hard. "I’m not that easy to kill."

"Don’t care." His voice was lower now, rougher. His fingers grazed over your injured side, the touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual brashness. "Yer mine to protect."

Your breath hitched. "Gajeel—"

His lips crashed against yours, all fire and frustration, demanding and unrelenting. He kissed you like he was claiming you, like he needed to prove something—to himself, to you, to anyone who thought they could take you away from him.

A low moan escaped you as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. His body was all muscle, solid and warm, and when he pressed even closer, you could feel just how badly he wanted you.

When he finally pulled away, his smirk was back, though his eyes still held that dark, dangerous glint.

"You’re mine, got it?"

Your lips were swollen, breath shaky as you smirked back. "Took you long enough to say it."

Gajeel growled, his lips crashing back onto yours, and this time, he had no intention of letting you go.

[pebblysand]

So, hilariously, I was finishing to edit our next episode of the podcast just now, and referred to this crossover fic in our crossover discussion. I then went to fetch it in my tumblr archive to include the link to it in our podcast notes, and found that I'd never posted part 2 of this 💀. So my friends, eight years later, here is part 2 that i wrote at the time, and then forgot to post lmaoooo. hope you enjoy!

----

ii.

Later, he sits next to her again - alone, she notes - and when asked what he's doing in London, he tells her he's a lawyer like she's supposed to be impressed ('commercial litigation,' he says after she wonders out loud what kind of law he practices and she hardly resists the urge to roll her eyes), watching her from the corner as she nurses the last half of her Jameson and coke (she always opts for Irish when given the choice because that's what her father used to drink but she's not entirely sure what the difference is, especially when it gets diluted into that much fizzy chemicals) -

She comments on the girl's absence from his side (it's hard not to notice) and he counters with a similar remark about Clive's (he's observant, she'll give him that): "there's nothing there," she explains. "We're friends," she adds and true, they are: even if he kissed her last week, she skilfully dismissed it as a drunken mistake and it's not like he complained, so -

Will (or so he says his name is) laughs at that, almost snorts on his drink, in fact: "yeah, right," he says, shaking his head at her (she can't help but feel a bit offended, really, wonders if she's actually that easy to read), but then: "I'm not mocking you, believe me," he tells her, "I've been there -" 

As they keep talking, she decides that she likes him: he's not her type but still she finds herself sort of drawn to him - maybe it's the fact that he leaves tomorrow and that she probably won't ever see him again, and that when he says he's been there, there's a look on his face that makes her want to believe him - but in his hotel room, later, when he offers to let her stay the night as she tries to find the energy to move, get dressed and grab a cab out to her shitty place out in zone 4, she's got to turn him down, mutters almost to herself: "Can't, court tomorrow -"

His look narrows on her as realisation downs on him, "you're a lawyer, too -" he says and she smiles, can't help but laugh when she corrects him ('barrister') and has to confirm that yes, indeed, those are the ones with the funny wigs and - 

"Can I ask you some- your, er, friend, what -" she asks before she can really stop herself, doesn't really know how to phrase it, fishes for advice, really, because ever since Clive kissed her she doesn't seem to be able to think about anything else, yet she's the one who turned him down, when he came into their room the next morning with that awkward look on his face, and -

"You say something, you lose your friendship; you say nothing, you regret it for the rest of your life," he breathes. "I wanted to say something but she got married to someone else before I did, so -"

That's a lot more information than she asked for and she doesn't know what prompted the honesty - maybe it's the fact that he leaves tomorrow and that she probably won't ever see him again, she repeats, and that when he says he's been there, there's a look on his face that makes her want to believe him - but she does appreciate it; she remembers looking at his date, earlier, and thinking she looked fun and completely coked up; Will just looks very, very tired -

"Sorry," she says, because it's what she was taught to say when she can't find other words and -

"Sorry," he repeats, like it means a lot more to him than it means to her. 

Three Sentence Fic - TGW/Silk - Will/Celeste - Will/Alicia - ‘Love’

A/N: I’m not going to be able to update Martha this weekend (running late, sorry ^^) so I’m putting this out instead. This is a little crossover thing-y that found its way into a scene in chapter 5 and I thought I’d explore it on Will and TGW’s side. I wrote it and then sent it to Orbythesea who said she liked it, so I thought what the heck, let’s make it this weekend’s little treat! I hope you like it! (Also, the words Will quotes are from one of her fics, Vices, if you haven’t read it, go check it out!). 

There’s actually a follow-up written from Martha’s POV (Blondie in this, for TGW people who don’t know wtf I’m going on about), which I’ll upload here tomorrow! 

Of course, if you have fics prompts, feel free to send them my way, I need to distract myself from the fucking novel I’m writing :D. 

Happy Saturday!

i.

“You’re moping,”

“I’m not,”

It’s a little after eleven when they settle into yet another crowded bar in central London, immediately heading up to the counter to get their drinks (wine for Celeste, beer for him); they’re here on firm business (a client - something, - he can’t remember, doesn’t really care) and all he knows is that he’s so hungry and exhausted (and jet lagged, and hungover), that he thinks he might as well sit on a stool while they wait for their order, locates a free one next to a cute twenty-something who’s ordering four different kinds of pints at once (he calls her Blondie, in his head), squeezes in between her and the corner of the bar ready to hop on his seat, Celeste barely fitting by his side -

“You can go try to find somewhere better to sit,” he offers, because he’s not a dick but kind of wants her to go away -

Celeste ignores him, as per usual (she ignored him yesterday when he reminded her that he was broke, and yet again last night when he said she really shouldn’t do another line - of course, he turned out to be right: she predictably crashed in the early hours of the morning and they ended up missing their plane), but he thinks her reaction to his three little words this afternoon might have been worse, actually, figures he’d rather be friendly ignored than friendly mocked -

“What do you know about love, anyway?” Celeste asks, watching him as he finally hops on his stool, his arm over the counter; Blondie’s drinks arrive, filled to the rim, a bit of alcohol escapes onto his shirt - he doesn’t acknowledge it, keeps his focus on Celeste, because actually yeah, he knows a thing or two about -

“It’s apparently like wanting to see someone else open a Christmas present more than you want to open your own,” he quotes Alicia from memory, making a point to look her in the eye as he does it, making a point to himself, too. And yeah, okay, maybe he actually is kind of a dick, but he’s definitely felt that about someone before (even if it might not be her) and they’ve been on and off for a couple of years, now, plus she’d just given him a blowjob as an apology for missing the plane so it felt sort of right, in a way, at least -

Celeste laughs, again, like that’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, but he’s too exhausted to really defend himself. Her attention span is pretty much ridiculous, anyway, so her mind is already gone somewhere else, her gaze falling onto a spot over his shoulder - onto Blondie, he realizes as he shifts around, catches her staring at him before she averts her eyes, pocketing her change and glancing out to a tall, blond guy who smiles largely at her, standing next to another table filled with people - ‘Blondies,’ he corrects.

She sighs the shortest of sighs before she returns the guy’s smile (he only sees it on her features because she’s so close, her lips painted a very bright shade of red) and squeezes out of her spot carrying the four pints between her fingers with unmatched expertise and: “Sorry,” she apologizes in that British, not-so-apologetic tone of hers, and he’s not sure what she’s not-so-sorry for, exactly (pushing past them, spilling drinks on him, staring) but somehow, he realizes that’s exactly what he’d like to say to Celeste, right now: sorry I said something I’m not sure I mean, he thinks, and wants to take it back, except yeah, if there’s one thing he’s actually learned from Alicia, it’s that ‘I love you’ is not the kind of thing you can ever take back.

Thanks very much for reading!

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[crowsofdarkness]

Pairings: Clive Rosfield(Final Fantasy 16) x Female!Reader

Clive never once compared you to Jill. You were a shining light in the Hideaway. He could always count on you to be there to greet him when he returned from a quest. Only this time, when he returned, you greeted him with a cold shoulder. You spent time while he was away training and fighting, wanting to prove to him you could handle yourself. Clive couldn't take you ignoring him any longer, so he sneaks into your chambers one night to talk to you. Only he finds you in a very compromising position.

18+ cw's below the cut: sword fighting, language, and smut which includes peeping Clive, and female masturbation.

a/n: so, like everything I write, i'm not sure how long this little series will be. i'm kind of going with the flow. also, if you noticed me jumping between "you" and "I" between parts its mostly because it helps for the point of view I'm writing. some parts of this little series will take place during the game story, other parts will not. I finished the game last night and I'm a fucking wreck. I need to talk to someone about it.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three- you are here. | Part Four

It was killing Clive not being able to talk to you. The shining light in the Hideaway was dwindling with each frown that appeared on your sweet face. He could always count on you to greet him with a smile and warm hug. But recently, he'd been met with your cold shoulder whenever he returned from a quest.

His quest to find Marjorie's boys took a few days, and when they returned, you were ecstatic to see that the boys were unarmed. When Clive went to give you a hug, you turned your back on him. You refused to let yourself become small for him, the last argument with him making you feel inadequate to Jill. Indeed, you didn't know how to fight, but that didn't mean you weren't worthy of his attention. It was clear he had feelings since you caught him moaning your name, but it hurt you how fast he extinguished your flame with the desire to fight, go out on quests with him.

Hence why you spent the last month training with Gav. He taught you how to wield a sword and how to protect yourself with it. You had to admit, you were incredibly rusty at first, but you worked with Gav night and day until you felt comfortable wielding the sword. You may not have Eikon powers like Clive or Jill, but Gav was immensely impressed with how quickly you caught on.

"Don't go fighting Eikons right off the bat. Stick to goblins or vampire thorns," Gav smirked while ruffling your hair after your daily training.

Swatting his hand away, you handed the sword back to him so he could perch it with the others. Taking a towel, you wiped away the sweat from your forehead and took a deep breath. The setting sun rippled against the waves surrounding the hideaway, and you breathed in the familiar salty air.

You were ready for a quiet night in your chambers, a nice warm bath while reading one of the books Tomes lent you. But as you turned around, ready to leave the training circle, you came to a halt. Deep eyes reached down to your soul, latching on with such a vise grip, it made you breathless.

Clive stood on the pier, freshly returning from a quest, and those eyes immediately found yours. Even from the distance between you two, you could see a tender smile pulling at his lips.

"Hi," he said. "How's the training going?"

Before you could ignore him, Gav spoke up and smacked an arm on your shoulder. "She's a natural, Clive. Suppose you could take her out with you the next time you need to pick up some supplies for Tarja."

Something flickered in Clive's eyes but it was gone before you could decifer what. Those luscious lips parted to speak but snapped shut when Jill came skipping up behind him, resting a hand on his arm.

"I'm going to clean up before we head back out," she said.

Your eyes narrowed while your stomach dropped to the depths. You weren't the one to admit it out loud but it hurt that Clive was leaving again after just returning from a quest. With Jill. Again.

"Didn't you just return?" You asked, resting a hand low on your hip.

Clive nodded, watching Jill saunter off before those bright eyes landed on you once more.

"We've learned a hoard of Akashic are over running Martha's rest. She sent message asking for our help."

"You'll be gone for days, I presume," you said.

Again, he nodded.

"Jill's coming?"

Yet another nod, no words spoken by Clive.

You bit down so hard on the inside of your cheek, you tasted blood. As much as it still upset you he wouldn't take you out with him, you would not cause a scene here in the common area with so many eyes on you.

Plus, if you were being honest, you didn't think you were ready to fight a hoard of Akashic. But it still hurt that Clive kept pushing you to the side.

Gav must have noticed how upset you've gotten because he cleared his throat. "Aye, Y/N here has come far in her training. Why don't ya give Jill some time to rest. Poor girl needs it."

"Jill is a better-."

You sneered while holding up a hand. "Save it, Clive. I don't need to hear another word from your pathetic mouth."

Once more giving him your back, you stomped up the stairs towards your chambers, ignoring the way Clive called after you.

The warm air broke through the openings of your chamber, clinging to your already slick skin as you laid in the tub. The lukewarm water was anything but relaxing yet you weren't paying attention to the water. You were too busy strumming your fingers over your clit, moaning softly; the noises being carried away with the sounds of the wind and waves down below.

As much as Clive bothered you with how swiftly he brushed you off, you couldn't ignore the way your body flared up when you saw him earlier. He was gone for only a day with his last quest but now he would be gone for days since it was a trek to Martha's rest. You didn't bother saying goodbye this time, being held up in your chambers all night refusing to see him.

So, instead, you were soaking in the tub while playing with your clit. Thinking of Clive's bright eyes watching you from between your legs. You imagined his face there, his tongue devouring your taste and moaning about how delicious you were.

"Clive," your body shuddered, making the water around you ripple.

Your nipples peaked through the water, the air brushing against them. One hand between your legs, the other pinching a nipple, you slowly brought yourself closer to the edge of desire.

Clive felt horrible for how often he kept turning down your offers to go out with him on quests. Even though your training had been paying off lately, he still couldn't find it in his heart to let you come with him. What if something were to happen to you? He couldn't bare the thought if you got hurt, or worse. He needed you here, at the Hideaway, waiting for him with that bright smile he adored so much.

Which is what he planned on telling you. Clive was leaving in a few moments for Martha's rest, but not before speaking to you and making things right. He hated how mad you were at him and how you both weren't able to pick things up where you last left off. All he thought about while away was how pretty you sounded when you moaned for him.

Like the sounds he could currently hear as he stopped in front of your slightly open door to your chambers. Instantly, his cock thickened in his pants and he peered inside to see your body lounging in your tub. Your head rested against the back while one hand was hidden inside and the other playing with one of your breasts. You looked fucking beautiful underneath the moonlight that spilled into your chamber. Like an angel.

His angel.

"Oh, Clive," you moaned, shaking underneath the water. "I need your cock."

Oh founder. Hearing you moan his name like that nearly made Clive spill in his pants. His cock ached to be buried deep inside of you, feel you claw and scratch at his back while he fucked your cunt.

With his hand on the door, Clive was about to give you what you wanted, until a familiar petite voice called for him.

"Clive! I'm ready to go, we should leave before we're too late."

With a longing glance into your chambers, Clive choked on a breath when your head snapped over towards the doorway, locking gazes with him. You made no move to stop what you were doing, still fucking yourself on your fingers and toying with your breast, as you finally fell apart. You moaned his name on a soft whimper, hopping that would have him forget about his new mission and to come spend the night with you.

As much as he wanted too, Clive knew he was needed elsewhere, so with a long breath, he turned his back to your door and left with Jill.

[fegirl1]

So here's what my xReader needs have been making me want lately:

_________

_________

Seth Lowell (Zenless Zone Zero) *There's hardly any good SethxReader stuff! Come on!!

Gorou (Genshin Impact)

P (Lies of P) Especially after the new trailer for the DLC!!

Luka (Honkai Star Rail)

Phainon (Honkai Star Rail)

Arthur Nightingale (Warframe) Did I mention he's voiced by THE Ben Starr???

Clive Rosfield (Final Fantasy XVI)

Koana (Final Fantasy XIV)

I just need these men in my life!!

[freyito]

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴏʀᴛ

✭ pairing(s): clive rosfield x gn reader

✩ inspo: yk that one note by tarja in the infirmary? yeah.

✩ in which: tarja had requested you bring rope to the infirmary. you wonder why.

✧ a/n: THIS HAS BEEN ON MY MIND FOREVER ITS SO FUNNY TO ME IMAGINE TARJA TYING THIS FREAK DOWN. PLEASE.

✦ taglist: @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, kicked puppy clive, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.0k

Well, Tarja was good on her word. You were used to little runs to the infirmary, deliveries of herbs and what not. But when she asked for some rope, you couldn’t help but wonder what it was for. You do your best not to pry in on her patients and who needs what herbs, focusing on just what herbs she needed. But… rope? You were sure there was plenty in the infirmary. Still, you’d rather not get an earful, so you obliged.

And, well, you were treated to quite the scene. Clive, or Cid, genuinely tied down. It was rare of you to see Clive look so pathetic in a way, battered and bruised from god knows what. You’ve never seen him like this; granted, he tends to run off halfway through his treatment (i.e. the rest period). And with him tied down to the bed, he looked even more sorrowful, like a dog who was left out in the rain. If you hadn’t been poking around in Tarja’s journals when she was away, you would’ve thought this was some bizarre new treatment. 

“Ah, good, you’re here,” Tarja immediately holds out her hand, beckoning you over. “I was starting to fear the beast would break his chains.”

Jill, next to Clive, lets out a chuckle, while Clive couldn’t be more displeased. You’d rather not end up like him, so you are quick to place the rope in Tarja’s hand.

“Tarja, please, this is embarrassing…” Clive protests weakly, his voice strained as if he had been struggling to break free for hours.

“Oh, really? Would you rather lose your head when you keel over in battle?” Tarja retorts, kneeled beside the bedside to tie more ropes around poor Clive. “You need to rest before throwing yourself into the fray again, you understand that, right? Ugh, you types are so aggravating!”

The room falls silent at that, save for Clive’s insistent grunts of struggle. Meanwhile, Tarja had just finished up with the second layer of rope. All you can do is really watch, too dumbstruck to speak, too astounded to laugh. You fear if you laugh or so much as giggle, you might earn Clive’s ire, as rare as it may be. At the same time, you simply can’t make fun of a patient, no matter how silly the occurrence is. If you told anyone, Tarja would have your head. Patient Confidentiality and all that. For now, this matter was one confined to the four people in the room.

As funny as you find this, poor Clive looked absolutely embarrassed, his cheeks flushed redder than you’ve ever seen him. Jill did her best to stifle her laughter, turning her head and covering her mouth. This seemed to make Clive deflate even more, turning his head away from her and towards you. The look he gives you is pitiful, one of a mangy, starving dog on the street. Yet it succeeds in heating up your cheeks, and taking pity on him. Have you ever seen such a hardened man turn into something so soft?

“Is this truly necessary…?” With a sigh, you turn to Tarja. “The man killed Kupka for Founder’s sake, we don’t need to punish him.”

“Are you not as sick as I am when he runs off without proper rest?” While her tone is harsh and she’s quite loud, you know she means none of this irritation towards you.

“Oh, I am, but…” You look back at Clive, who’s pride seems to mend. “He just avenged all of those we lost, must we really confine him like this?”

This seems to have talked some sense to Tarja, and she takes a moment to think about it. Wounded he may be, and stubborn at that, he did bring a sense of victory and cheer to the Hideaway that had been lost in recent days. In recent years, more of. It is nothing short of rude to tie the hero to a cot, even if he’s too damned stubborn to rest. 

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Tarja scoffs, before shaking her head. “But I am going to let him wallow like this for a minute longer. Perhaps he’ll think twice before he leaves the infirmary without resting.”

“Tarja!” Clive whines, struggling a little more with the look of a kicked puppy.

You turn your head, closing your eyes and willing yourself to shut up. You fear if you stare any longer you will enjoy the view. Not that you weren’t already, but it was starting to get to you! That, and you wanted to laugh so badly, but not at poor Clive’s condition. He was still a patient, as you keep repeating to yourself. Eventually, the awkward silence in the room feels like it’s too much to bear, and so you make your way out of the infirmary. You didn’t want to leave Clive alone, not without a voice of reason, but you had a feeling you’d done all you could. At the very least, Tarja would let him free sooner rather than in three days' time.

You’d hope you’d see him wandering around soon, to affirm that Tarja hadn’t kept him tied down. At the same time, you’d rather see him tied down than walking about, knowing he’d most likely be rushing off to another mission. And that’d earn him an indefinite spot in the Infirmary, strapped to the bed. If someone hauled him in. He’d most likely avoid it after this, not that you could blame him. But, just for extra measure, you’d make sure to drill it into him that he really should be resting after exerting himself so much. Just because you saved him doesn’t mean you aren’t of the same mind as Tarja, you’d just rather not involve ropes.

Now that you’ve (hopefully) saved the day, you feel like you’re going to burst if you don’t tell someone of the scene you just saw. You know you should be quiet and keep it to yourself, but it’s too damn much! If you don’t tell someone, anyone, you’ll die! You hurry back to the ale hall to at least find someone to chat with, and if not, you’ll drink your weight in ale and ‘accidentally’ let it slip. 

Before you even reach the hall, Gav has a hand on your shoulder. He’s chipper as always, a grin on his face and the confidence you only wish you had.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost! What was goin’ on in the infirmary…?” He cocks his head to the side. He is just begging to be told. Seems you’ve found your victim. “Don’t tell me Tarja’s got you runnin’ ‘round for more herbs.”

“No, no, nothing like that. Lady Tarja… she’s kind. As long as you follow her instructions…” You shake your head, debating to just drop it on Gav.

“Well, then you should have no reason for lookin’ so afraid… right?”

Oh, Great Greagor. You don’t care about getting out of this. You need to tell him.

“No! No, uhm, well…” Your unsure tone turns into something more upbeat, something mirthful. “She’s got Clive tied up in there.”

“WHAT!?” Gav’s mouth drops, squeezing your shoulder, before he looks back to where you came from. “She’s got Ci–”

You slap a hand over his mouth before he can continue, looking around at the few people who had turned their heads towards you. You give Gav an angry look, one that’s on par with Tarja’s. He shuts up immediately, an almost fearful look in his eyes.

“You keep your mouth shut, okay? I’m not looking to end up like him,” You huff, taking your hand off his mouth. He nods vigorously. “Not. A. Word.”

“Yessir!” Gav states dramatically, giving you a proper salute like you were Clive himself, before darting off to the infirmary. You hope for your sake, he’s quiet about it, and that Clive has already been freed of such humiliation. 

Sure enough, before Gav can even open the door, Clive is stepping out, as if he has completely ignored Tarja’s instruction for rest. Before he can spot you from far off, you duck your head and make for the ale hall, hoping now to hide away in a bowl of stew and a cup of… water. Yes, water. Something that won’t loosen your tongue. Maybe you’ll just crash in your quarters instead. Suddenly, you’re feeling very guilty over telling one soul. And the fact that Clive didn’t seem to learn his lesson doesn’t help.

You walk quicker, order your food even more hurriedly, and take a seat down at one of the tables. You settle once you're there, as if the air of tension has lifted. You fidget a little, like you had just stolen something, but no one can blame you, right? Suddenly what you’ve seen feels like an information hazard. Cid the Outlaw, who’s killed Hugo Kupka, and Benedikta Harman, shattered two mother crystals, and who has been carrying the plight of Bearers on his back, tied up and helpless. You still want to laugh. And you aren’t too prideful to admit that he’s a dashing man. Not that your relationship was any secret. But it felt wrong seeing that. Isn’t that a scene for the bedroom?

Bedroom or not, something was just so compromising about seeing him like that. And given the fact he was already up and walking around, you fear that his fate is sealed. Tarja will tie him to the cot once more, or forever more, and he will be forced to rest. What a horrible fate.

Just as you're mourning your boyfriend, he has the gall to show up. So smoothly, as if everything hadn’t happened, he sits down across from you with a warm smile.

“I have to thank you for saving me,” He chuckles, a warm blush dusting his cheeks. “I don’t know how long she would’ve kept me there.”

You want to say ‘you’re welcome’, but at the same time you also know he needs his rest. He can act as warm as he wants, but just because you saved him from that humiliation doesn’t mean you wanted him up. Especially after fighting Titan. So, you embody Tarja.

“No. No, you–” You point at him, “– are going to go back to the infirmary. Or your room. And you are going to rest. For a week.”

His demeanor changes, he wears the same expression Gav has. Are you truly that terrifying?

“No running off for a mission. No getting up to train.” You continue, pressing your finger into the table. “You will listen to Tarja and I’s instructions. If you try to run off, I won’t save you next time she decides you need three times the rope to be restrained.”

Clive deflates slightly, like rest is his greatest nightmare, and you are sentencing him an eternity to it. Or as if he believes he doesn’t deserve it, a thought process you are quite intimate with.

“... Okay…” He speaks, sounding as if he’s a child who’s just been grounded.

You can’t help but sigh and relax as he agrees, as pathetically as he does. You reach over and take his hand in yours, flipping it over and running your thumb against his palm.

“You don’t have to be so afraid of the infirmary. Or Tarja. Or me. Or rest,” You mutter, “It’ll do you good, I promise. You’ve earned it, yeah?”

He perks up a little at your praise, before nodding again.

“So you go on and start catching up on all of it that you’ve missed, and I’ll join you later tonight.”

He nods again, before grabbing your hand, and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Your heart skips a beat for a moment, wondering how long it’s been since he’s had the chance to be sweet on you. He’s spent the last couple months stressing over Hugo Kupka’s whereabouts, that most of his time was devoted to finding the man. Now that he’s killed the man, he finally has all the time to…

You can’t allow yourself to think like that. He’s buttering you up, for sure. Because you know by the time you reach his quarters he’ll be complaining about having nothing to do, begging you to let up on him so he can continue his work. You can’t let yourself grow soft!

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[vprosper]

Slightly edited Clive Rosfield x reader porn. Had to get it out of my head, so here you go. Might edit and include in the AO3 fanfic I'm currently writing.

Warnings/tags; BDSM, Edging, Vaginal sex, forced blowjob, dirty talk If you're not 18+, please don't read, it's filthy.

-------

Overworked

“...Clive…” You pleaded, but he was having none of it. His arms crossed, he looked down at you. Arms tied behind your back, and thighs to your shins, you were laying on your bed, a blindfold snugly wrapped around your head. “I’ve warned you multiple times, Y/N.” He replied, not moving an inch.

Rebuilding Rosaria had come with the needed work, and you had both been extremely busy with getting things moving. Clive is overseeing most of the reconstruction, amassing the right funding and directing the right expertise where it needed to be. You on the other hand, would help with the actual reconstruction itself. You had read up on architecture and building houses in general. You had no problems with physical work being fully recovered, and were helping building houses and shops daily. This resulted in the current predicament. You were often home late, and too tired to spend time with Clive. It used to be the other way around, but Clive had learned from his past mistakes and always left enough time in the day for you. The last months you had brushed him off multiple times, and when he had seen you out drinking with some of the male workers and coming back home smashed, he’d snapped. “I’m not sure if you have been doing this on purpose, knowing your masochistic needs, but you’re not getting off easy this time.” Clive said, his brows furrowed. Not that you could see that. In any case, you’d sobered up quickly. “I’m allowed to drink with other people, aren’t I? Is it because they were male? Are you jealous?” You retorted. You made Clive’s blood boil, your hypocrisy beyond his understanding. “Jealous? Is that what you’re getting from this? Do you realize what you’ve been doing for the past months?” You were not taking pleasure from this, as you struggled with your restraints. “I’ve been trying to help rebuild Rosalith!” You exclaimed. Clive growled. “Working twelve hours a day, just eating, drinking, and sleeping left, is that your plan? While I deliberately plan my work to be with you? Y/N, what’s gotten into you?! It used to be the other way around!” He raised his voice, desperately trying to make you understand him.

“...The sooner it’s done, the faster we can spend our lives together.” You replied after a moment of silence. “Aren’t we already?” Clive said angrily. He wasn’t getting through to you. But yes, he had been jealous. He would never admit that to you, but when you were out drinking, he saw you smile and joke. Something the both of you hadn’t done for a long time. Rosalith wasn’t going to be rebuilt in a day, and you were both committed to seeing his old home restored. You gave him the silent treatment, and Clive sighed. Seeing you naked made him hard as always, but he wanted you to beg for forgiveness. He took out the heated lubricant, courtesy of Gav, and generously coated his hand with it. “...L-like this?” You had recognized the sound, and were panicking slightly. This could’ve been one of your fantasies, if you weren’t angry with Clive right now. Couldn’t he see that you were pouring your heart in this? That you were doing it for him? He’d tricked you by some filthy words in your ear, but when you were splayed out on the bed, you realized that this was a punishment. “I called you in sick today.” Clive said casually, getting on top of you, straddling your hips. “Perhaps you should’ve not been drinking so much.” He added, groping your breasts. He coated your hard nipples with the lubricant, twisting and pulling however he pleased. Coaxing a moan out of you, Clive smirked. “Enjoying yourself?” You refused to answer him. He didn’t mind.

Clive had the whole day to get you to understand. He continued to toy with your flesh for a bit longer before he got off of you to move somewhere else. You already felt the lubricant tinge on your chest, sending warm waves through your body. Another squeeze of the bottle. “You don’t need to answer me, you’re already staining the sheets.” Clive chuckled. He knew you well enough by now. Going straight for your clit, he massaged the heat straight in. Your hips buckled, your body spasming to his touch. “A-h!” Clive held you down on your stomach with one hand, inserting two digits between your wet folds. With your eyesight gone, the waves of pleasure hit you twice as hard. You had no idea what was coming next. Clive started pumping you with three fingers, fast and hard while the other hand still circled your clit. You moaned loudly. “I’m-” Before your orgasm could hit you, Clive removed his fingers. “J-jerk.” You whined, the heat subsiding quickly. Still, your body burned from the lubricant, and your sensitive spots were getting assaulted without Clive doing anything. “Let me quote you on this, sweetheart; Only good girls get to cum.” Clive said darkly.

You groaned in response. You’d tied Clive up once. Seeing how he’d react. His arms behind the back of the chair, that same blindfold you had on you over his eyes. You’d almost made him cum then with your hands and mouth before you moved away. You had told him the same thing then, until he was begging for a release. You groaned in frustration. Clive smirked. “Please, let me cum.” You asked, body slightly trembling. “These ropes hurt.” “Earn it.” Was Clive’s only reply.

He undid the leather strings from his pants, taking out his half-hard cock. He shuddered slightly when he smeared your slick on his reddened tip. You felt his weight on you again. A knee on each side of your head, Clive rubbed his cock over your lips. A few pumps before he gripped the headboard of the bed to steady himself. Clive grinned when you were hesitant to open your mouth. “You know how this goes, sweetheart.” He swore he could feel you roll your eyes. You liked to challenge him. And even in this position, you were dead set on not cooperating. His now stiff cock hung above you, and your reddened cheeks made him want you even more. He pinched your nose with his free hand, cutting off your air until you opened your mouth. Then it was just a matter of grabbing your jaw and making space. “Ugh!” You gagged when Clive pushed as far as he could. “That’s it.” He growled, grabbing a fist of your silvery white hair. Your tongue was warm, his length grinding over it. He facefucked you with abandon, like there was no tomorrow, his hips thrusting fast. He admired your face, tears running down below the blindfold, snot running from your nose down to the side of your face, and drool from the corners of your mouth as he pushed deep inside you. He groaned, not far off from letting you taste a load of his cum. But he stopped before reaching that point, seeing that you were going to choke.

“Guhh…” You panted, trying to return oxygen to your lungs. Your body was still twitching from heat, but it just wasn’t enough to get anywhere. You growled in frustration. Clive was treating you like a damned cocksleeve. You let out a delighted whine when Clive pushed his cock straight into your gushing folds. “Ffuck!” Only to be disappointed with how deliberately slow he was. The even slower circles on your sensitive nub. “Please..” You cried out, a real plea this time. “Come on sweetheart, you need to be able to take what you dish out.” Clive teased, slipping out of you before teasing his tip at your entrance again. “I apologized for that, didn’t I?” Your voice was hoarse. Clive rewarded you with a full thrust, his hands on your hips. You cried out in surprise, new tears running off your cheeks. “I could leave you like this and go back to work. And when I return we could start all over again.” Clive threatened, in contrast to the gentle massaging of your hips with his thumbs.

You shook your head quickly, not looking forward to hours of being on edge, never able to get off. Clive got out of you again, this time flipping you over. Your face was pressed into the sheets, the only thing keeping you stable with your arms snuggly tied on your back. Your knees were steadying you, your plump ass presented to Clive. “Ahhh…” You felt Clive fill you up again, and your toes curled up. “You take me so well.” Clive commented, feeling you clench around him. He didn’t move, so you made a futile attempt to move your hips. You got a devilish laugh in response. “You’re so desperate for me, Y/N. I didn’t know, seeing you’re spending so much time away.” “Please Clive… I never meant it like that..” You stuttered, small sobs in between. “Easy to say… when you’re at my mercy right now.” Clive responded, a firm grip on your hips again.

His gaze landed on the scars on your muscular back. Your silvery hair cascaded onto the pillows, as he pounded you deeper into the sheets. He took the bottle of lubricant again, squeezing more of the substance on his thumb. “..Clive! Not there-” Your begging was drowned out by the squelching sounds of Clive’s thrusts, still nowhere near fast enough. A thumb rubbed you puckered asshole, the last place Clive hadn’t been yet. He pushed his thumb in, granting him numerous pained swearing. With a bit of movement and shoving himself deeper in your tight cunt again, those turned into debaucherous moans. And then multiple knocks on your front door. You both froze in place. “Fuck.” Clive swore, ripping himself away from you. Quickly, he pulled up his pants and made himself presentable for the person that had decided to crash his party. 

Opening the door revealed a stressed out Sir Wade. “Clive, you need to come quick-” Clive snorted in response, the wording unfortunate. “Why, what happened?” He saw the worried look on his friend’s face. “They’re fighting on the square, I-” He internally cursed, understanding why Wade had knocked on his door. “Who is fighting exactly?” He tried. “A few of the carpenters with the stonemasons. Something about workload… We need to do something.” You could hear the muffled conversation at the door. Your breath was heavy, your body still aching for release. But at that moment you understood what Clive had meant. “I’m sorry Wade. Y/N is not feeling well, and I’m afraid she’ll get worse. I… want to help, but I’m not the right person at the moment. Have you checked with Oscar? If you can get them to split, I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Compared to your time at the Hideaway, Clive would never even think about refusing Sir Wade. He would do it all and be exhausted at the end of the day. Just like you. You rolled over to your side, your knees no longer able to hold you up.

The door opened a few minutes later. Clive stared at you, you parted lips, sweaty skin, twitching pussy. The conversation with Wade had put a hold on his mood, but the moment he laid eyes on you again, his pants became too tight. “...I’m sorry…” You whimpered, just before Clive wanted to apologize. “What?” He asked, climbing on the bed to remove your blindfold. Tear stained eyes looked at him, and his previous anger vanished. “You’re right… I should’ve been more mindful about it.” You continued, voice still hoarse. “I should’ve talked about it with you.” While Clive had changed, you didn’t mean to fill in the gaps. You really didn’t. But it happened, and the both of you let it continue until this seemed the only solution. “Thank you, Y/N. That’s all I need.” He discarded the fabric, his eyes not leaving you. “Shall I untie you?” “Clive… Please… I need you to finally let me cum! It’s been hours, I can’t-” The dark haired man smirked. He moved back in front of you, pushing your knees further out. “How do you want me to do it?” Clive asked, that devilish smirk never leaving his face. He needed you to say it.

You groaned. “You fucking villain.” You replied, glaring at him. He didn’t move, so you slightly panicked. “...Your cock. Please…” Clive saw your eyes roll back when he pushed his stiff length in your wet cunt again. The sloppy noises from his hard thrusting sounded like music in his ears. Your moans his favorite song. “Don’t hold back my love.” He groaned, hands gripping your hips tightly again. “Oh Founder-” You felt the heat pooling in your stomach. “Harder!” You begged, and Clive happily obeyed, rubbing your clit in fast circles with his thumb. And when that orgasm came, which it inevitably did, your body tensed up so hard that Clive winced. “Ahhhh!” You exclaimed, not able to hold back.

The ropes kept you contained, and your walls clenched Clive so hard he immediately came with a loud groan. “Fuck.” He’d wanted it to last a little longer, riding out your highs as hard as he could. But you were on the brink of consciousness, and it was time to remove your restraints. Still he took his sweet time as he was panting heavily, his spent gushing out of you. “Are you okay?” He asked, a little worried as you were still not moving. Your chest heaved up and down, and you gave a small nod. He planted a kiss on your hair, like he always did after the two of you were intimate. “I’ll prepare a bath.” Clive said after he freed you. “T-Thanks.” You replied shakily. “...You still love me, right?” You asked, worried about the anger you felt from him a while ago. “Hmmm? Of course. Even with dried up snot on your face. That will never change.” His words were gentle as he joked, and you could only smile in response. “You even get bonus points for looking hot while your pussy is dripping with my cum.” “You’re a filthy man, you know that?” You were both grinning. “As I recall, I told you I wasn’t a saint. Same as you, I suppose.” “Yeah, fair. I’ll need a massage from you, my joints are aching.” You said, grin wider while you sat up. Not a saint, still a wonderful husband. Clive smiled, nodding without having to think about it. “I’d love to.”

[drabblesandimagines]

Lemon Tarts

Clive Rosfield x female (Branded) reader Fluff, 5,828 words

“Come on, out of there, eh? I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – he’s introduced himself several times now – jokes with a half-hearted laugh.

He’s crouched down in front of the alcove where you’ve sequestered yourself, your body pressed right up in the corner, your head tucked in-between your knees to try and make yourself as small as possible.

Gav’s broad shoulders won’t permit him entry, his reach coming up short when he’d got down on his knees and put an arm in to catch your wrist to guide you back out – cursing himself under his breath when you’d flinched at his attempt.

Your master was harsh both in what he demanded in labour and how he treated you. However long ago, you’d decided it was better to not talk back and, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he’d bought you for your conversation skills - for what worth is there in anything a Branded has to say?

The days in his service were repetitive – just the faces around you would change as the curse wore away at their supposed worth. Two new Bearers had been acquired over a tenday ago, apparently tracked by a group of people calling themselves Cursebreakers when they broke into the barn where you all slept. They explained they were here to take all of you somewhere safe, to free you from your master, all whilst weapons hung from their hips.

They’d escorted you into a covered wagon in the early hours of the morning with a firm grip, before the three of you were transferred onto a skiff roped up at a small dock, tucked away off a beaten path. The boat set sail across the blighted waters of a lake, heading towards some sort of Fallen structure in the middle. From there, you were led up onto a dock and then into a goods lift, ascending up to a new fate. You had tried to keep your panic at bay on the wagon and skiff ride, swallowing down the anxiety that had churned in your stomach and threatened to come up your throat but the moment the lift reached the main deck, the fear of the unknown won and you ran without further thought.

You ran with an energy you didn’t know you still possessed, ducking around outstretched arms. You didn’t make it very far before your mind caught up with your legs - where could you even go now? You’re in the middle of a lake, you don’t know how to swim, you’re trapped.

Now that you’d ran from them, disobeyed their commands to stop, only punishment could follow. At least with your old master you knew what to expect for whatever he deemed as ill behaviour, despite your best attempts to fulfill his demands, and what to brace for when you failed.

The alcove had caught your eye – a gap between two wooden walls made of thick planks. You’d slipped in with more than a hope that you wouldn’t be spotted as you did, perhaps they’d think you’d jumped into the waters below and drowned.

Luck was not on your side – when had it ever been? - for as soon as you’d pressed yourself into the very back, a scarred face had appeared in the opening.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” Gav chides, stepping back to put his hands on his hips before his face falls. “Not that that’s a threat, like! I mean, it’s not… practical, is it? Especially when we’ve a lovely, warm bed with your name on it.”

Warm bed…?

It’s a trick.

Don’t be so stupid.

“Gav, what’s going on?” An almost amused voice draws the scout’s attention elsewhere and the man steps out of view, entering into a hushed conversation. You risk a look between your knees, seeing the railings and a bit of the sky beyond – dusk beginning to fall.

A few moments later, you hear the voice again – gravelly, but cautious and gentle. “Hello, my lady.”

The lack of sarcasm in their address of you – for who would call a Branded my lady –prompts you to peer between your knees. Another rather broad-shouldered man is knelt down on one knee - shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black leathers, the hilt of a great sword showing over his shoulder.

“My name’s Clive. Mayhaps I could have the pleasure of yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder, but Clive keeps his gaze on you. “Or ever - that’s what the others said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, like. Said they didn’t know her name, and not sure how long she’d been with him.”

“That’s all right. You don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to, my lady. We just want to help, but we can’t help much whilst you’ve tucked yourself away here, can we?”

He waits for a few moments, testing the waters.

“We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you,” Clive presses on, tone still gentle and genuine. “And a very cosy bunk for you to rest in, where you won’t be disturbed. And food of course - I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Molly - she’s our cook - has made some exquisite lemon tarts for afters. You can have mine, if you like.”

Your mouth salivates at the prospect of hot food. It had been a while since your stomach felt content - yesterday’s meal had consisted of vegetable peelings after a poor day of harvest, shared with the chocobos…

It’s all too good to be true.

“I know you must be frightened – to be taken from everything you’ve known for so long, but you have my word that we wish only to help you.” He places his fist over his heart, hoping it would prove his sincerity. “Though I understand we cannot be helping by hovering over you like this, so I will leave you be to think on it a while, my lady.”

Clive gets to his feet with a soft grunt and takes a few steps away back over to where Gav was stood, shaking his head in defeat.

Gav sighs, wearily. “S’pose I could ask Bartram to knock the planks out at the side so we can get her out that way?”

“No.” Clive’s tone is firm. “Definitely not. I could see her body trembling – she’s terrified.”

“We can hardly leave her in there.”

“She just needs time – we can give her that. It’s not ideal, but she’s at least safe. If her health turns, I’ll consider more drastic action but patience is best for now.”

“Maybe she’d be more comfortable speaking with someone who’s Branded?” Gav muses, scratching the back of his head.

“Good idea, Gav.” Clive claps his on the shoulder with a heavy arm. “I’ll ask Molly if she can pop by with some stew – food and a friendly, familiar face might work wonders."

--

You don’t emerge later though, despite Molly’s best efforts. She gives you a bright smile and soft, encouraging words – a tale of how she was rescued, proudly demonstrating the brand on her cheek, what she does now at the Hideaway, and then offering the bowl of stew in her hand.

The aroma makes your mouth water and stomach ache. Molly carefully places it at the threshold, not wanting to encroach on your personal space. Says she’ll leave it there, alongside a waterskin, before she bids you well and disappears from view.

If you shuffled forward a little, perhaps stretched out your arm as far as it would go, the bowl would be in reach to drag back to eat.

You don’t, though.

You won’t.

It’s a trick.

--

Clive had made himself scarce, hoping Molly's presence would be more calming than his own, and left her with instructions that if you were to emerge, or engage in conversation, perhaps she could coax you into going to the infirmary next.

He busied himself in search of the seamstress, eventually finding her in the bunks, sorting through piles of material stored away in a cupboard.

“Hortense, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods, turning to face him. “What can I do for you, Clive?” “I wondered if you had any spare blankets?”

“Oh, yes – I’m always working away on more as we grow our ranks!” Hortense beams, turning back to the cupboard. “I'm not surprised you asked – there must be quite the draft in those chambers of yours.”

“Ah, no - not for me. One of the rescued Bearers from today is a little shy, sequestered herself in an alcove in fright. I'm hoping she'll emerge before nightfall for food and to go to the infirmary, but I do not wish for her to catch a chill off the lake if she does not...”

“Oh, the poor mite!” Hortense frowns at the idea, but sets to thumbing through a pile of blankets in search of one in particular – a fleecy grey one in the end - and bundling it up in her arms before she hands it over to him. “Well, this one should keep her nice and cosy, it’s plenty thick enough. Tell me she is at least properly dressed, Clive.”

“The usual attire.” A polite way of saying the threadbare cloth shirts, trousers or dresses that Bearers were permitted by their masters, sans shoes as always. “I doubt she’ll accept any changes of clothing currently, but I am sure she’ll come round. We just need to be patient.”

“How could she not? Please, do let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

“This is plenty, I assure you.” He smiles, holding the blanket aloft in demonstration and leaves her to her work, heading the long way down to the Ale Hall to avoid the main deck. He spots Molly back in the kitchen behind the counter, looking forlorn.

“I’m sorry – I tried, I really did.” She scoops a generous portion of stew into a bowl and hands it off to an awaiting Bearer as she talks. “I told her my story and everything, but it’s almost like she’s frozen in place. I half-worried the curse had took her in front of my eyes. I left the stew - I hoped with some privacy she might eat without me there watching her.”

He places a large palm on her arm and give hers a sincere smile. “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate you trying.”

“It’s nothing. Here”, she hands him the bowl of stew she’d just prepared. “Can’t forget yourself. And before you ask, yes, everyone else has been fed.”

Clive smiles, wryly, and takes the bowl with a grateful nod.

After he has had his fill, he heads out at the top of the steps, planning to keep his distance for a while longer up in the mess before an attempt to coax you out or gifting you the blanket. As his eyes cast over the alcove, he finds an unwelcome guest with their head and shoulders wedged firmly into the entrance.

“Torgal - away from there!” Clive snaps with a growl in his throat and the wolf hound instantly retreats to his master’s side with a whine and a tilt of his head, unsure as to what he's done.

He sighs, giving the beast a pat on the head. “I am sorry, boy, just... that bowl wasn’t for you – that was for our guest. I am afraid you may have scared her.”

Clive walks over and drops to a knee to peer within. His heart sinks to find your head tucked further between your knees than it had been previously, in addition to your body now trembling almost violently.

By the Founder, you must’ve thought he’d sent his beast to devour you.

“My lady, I am so very sorry that Torgal frightened you. He must’ve picked up the scent of the stew and followed it, mistaking it for his dinner. His sense of smell is unparalleled.”

Torgal barks as if in agreement, and you jump in place at the noise. Clive hushes the wolf with another pat on his head. “Sorry – he still acts like a puppy sometimes, but he is a very loyal friend of mine and he means you no harm. Allow me to fetch you something else to eat.”

He lays the bundled blanket down and pushes it forward, until it’s less than an arm’s length away from you.

“It gets a little cold on the deck in the evenings, my lady, but this should keep you warm until you feel comfortable enough to come inside. I’ll be back in a moment with some more food, and Torgal will keep away – I promise.”

He gets to his feet, picking up the bowl as he does and Torgal quickly follows behind at his heels as he heads back to the Ale Hall. Molly’s eyes widen in delight as he places the empty vessel on the counter, but Clive shakes his head.

“I’m afraid Torgal got to it first – licked it clean. Do we have any left?”

“Ah.” The cook’s face falls. “No, I’m afraid not – some of the Cursebreakers were feeling particularly hungry after their mission. But I do have bread, some cheese, apples and a lemon tart, though I had held that one back for you…”

“That all sounds wonderful. Please.”

Molly pulls out a cloth napkin from below the counter, placing the assortment of food together with a delicate hand. She ties the napkin in a knot to keep the bundle protected and hands it over.

“Thank you.” He looks down at the hound sat by his heels. “Torgal, why don’t you go and sit with Lady Charon?”

Torgal’s tail thumps against the wooden floorboards happily – Charon often has a bone waiting for him behind her counter in the evening.

“Good boy.”

Clive heads back towards the alcove with deliberate footsteps, wishing to announce his arrival. The blanket has not moved, still in the place where he left it. From what he can see in the evening light, your trembling has appeared to ease up from Torgal’s visit at least.

“I am afraid we have run out of stew, but Molly’s put together a selection of other things for you – including the lemon tart I mentioned earlier.” Clive places the bundle down carefully upon the blanket, before moving the waterskin besides it.

He waits a moment or two to see if you might lift your head before continuing, but it remains fixed in place.

“I think you might feel more at ease if you eat something, my lady, even if it’s just a little. I will leave you be and bid you a good night, with a sincere hope that you emerge anon.”

He gets back to his feet again, swallowing back down a sigh and, reluctantly, heads back into the warmth of the Ale Hall.

--

Clive finds himself restless later that night, tossing and turning before settling to stare up at the ceiling of his chambers. His mind is whirling with thoughts of what he needs to accomplish tomorrow, the missives he has yet to reply to, the Mothercrystals that still reside – though an opportune moment was still to present itself – the next lot of Cursebreakers who would be undertaking the removal of their Brands…

..and you, the scared Bearer, hiding in an alcove off the main deck.

He sits up with a huff and looks towards the balcony.

Fresh air – despite how drafty his chambers already are - will help, he thinks.

He gets out of bed, pulling on his earlier discarded trousers and boots to go with his night shirt and heads over to the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air.

The blighted lake waters are still and the moon casts a warm, white glow over the quiet deck. Clive takes a deep breath and then another, when something catches his eye down below - a lone figure heading across the boards on unsteady legs, towards the end of the dock.

You.

He turns on his heel and hurries out of his chambers, his footsteps echoing around the Ale Hall as he descends both sets of stairs two at a time. He pulls the lever back to call the lift back up and waits, impatiently, when he sees the blanket and bundle of food he’d left earlier, pushed aside in front of the alcove.

He grabs the bundle as the lift reaches the dock and hurries inside, slamming down the lever and descending below, praying that he’s not too late.

--

You were sure you hadn’t heard anyone for hours since the sun had dipped below the horizon and stars had slowly started to emerge in the cloudless sky. Cautiously, you’d pushed the blanket forward, only enough so that if someone was lying in wait for you to emerge they would pounce.

Nothing.

You wait another while before you inch it forward again, a pause, then a little more until the entire blanket is now out of the alcove. Your hands are shaking as you pop your head out, just slightly, but the deck appears empty. After waiting another few moments, you crawl over to the railings to peer below. The skiff you’d arrived on is docked up at the end of the pier – an escape route. Without much further thought, you pull yourself up on unsteady legs and walk into the goods lift, pulling down the lever to descend.

You find yourself at the end of the dock, frozen in fear. What were you thinking? You don’t know how to sail. You don’t know how to swim either, so that’s also out of the question. Even if you could, you surely wouldn’t have the strength to swim across an entire lake.

You flex stiff fingers experimentally. Maybe you could muster up enough aether to conjure some wind – would that be enough to sail the skiff? You wished you’d paid more attention on the journey over…

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Where would you even go? The brand inked on your cheek made it so you’d never have a normal life, you stand out immediately in any crowd. If an imperial soldier caught you on your own, you’d be thrown into the cells…

..or even worse.

Maybe… Maybe you could go back to your master? Your stomach swirls again with anxiety at the thought. There would be a punishment, surely, but if you came back that would count for something, wouldn’t it?

Your thoughts are interrupted by pounding footsteps, your heartbeat soon matching their pace as you turn to see your pursuer. It’s the broad-shouldered man from earlier – Clive – hurrying up the dock with a look you can’t identify on his face and a bundle of cloth in his hand.

You take a step back as he gets closer, hurriedly followed by another, then another. There’s an apology on your tongue but the world suddenly jerks when there is no longer anything to stand on. You’ve stepped too far, ran out of dock-

There is a gust of warm wind and an arm wraps around your waist, pressing you close into an even warmer chest. Underfoot, you feel the boards of the dock again - Clive has stopped you from falling into the depths. He guides you forward another half a dozen strides before dropping his arm once he’s sure you’re a safe distance away from the edge and then takes further steps back himself.

“I apologise for touching you without your consent, my lady, but I could not let you fall into the water. Are you all right?”

You don’t take in his words at all - your legs giving up as you drop down on the deck with a thump.

“I’m s-sorry.” Your words are soft, but Clive hears them in the stillness of the night. “Please – I’ll…” You swallow back a sob – crying never helped, would only make punishments worse. “I’m sorry. Please… don’t hurt me. I’ll obey. I will.”

“I will never hurt you, my lady, nor will I ever command your obedience. This is my vow.” Clive responds, equally as soft, as he kneels down to match your eye-level. “I just wish to see you safe and well.”

He sounds sincere, which is unsettling. You realise he doesn’t have his sword, nor the hound at his heels. He’s not even properly dressed - leather trousers and an unlaced white shirt, overall softening his appearance.

Clive takes advantage of your silence to press on.

“Will you join me in a midnight feast?” He places the bundle of cloth down before him, swiftly undoing the knot all whilst you stare, trying to guess the trick.

“I used to sneak into my younger brother’s chambers with things I’d swiped from the kitchen. He was often ill and prescribed a rather bland diet, so I hoped a midnight feast of more appetizing fare might cheer him up.”

He busies himself laying out the food on the patterned cloth, a little further away from him than could be comfortable having to stretch out so far. There’s a few bread rolls, apples, biscuits and something that smells tantalizingly sweet.

“This,” Clive points out a round pastry in the middle, some sort of glazed curd on the top, “is Molly’s fabled lemon tart. The best in Valisthea, I assure you. Please – help yourself.”

He leans back, propping himself up with his elbows, again trying to give you space, and forces his gaze to the sky. The moon illuminates the side of his face as you keep your eyes fixed on him, revealing a mark you hadn’t noticed earlier that day - an almost familiar one.

It’s torture having the food laid out in front of you, the second time that day. You don’t know if you feel sick from hunger or from nerves, but your resolve finally cracks.

You reach out with a shaking hand, waiting for Clive to strike.

He keeps focused on the skies above, his hands firmly planted behind him.

You pick up the roll.

Still, he does not move.

You take a tentative bite and chew, whilst Clive stares up at the stars.

Slowly, but surely, you finish the entire roll. Be grateful – your master’s voice rings around your head.

“T-thank you.”

Clive moves his gaze from the skies to yours, a warm smile on his face. “No, thank you, my lady. This is all I want for you – all we want for you – to be safe and well-fed.”

You dig your nails into your palms. “Why?”

“Because Bearers do not deserve to be treated how they are – we should be able to live and die on our own terms.”

“We?”

He nods, sitting up and turning his head to the side, pushing back his hair a little to reveal the scar on his cheek.

“I was Branded once. Tarja – she’s our healer – removed it, only so I could travel Storm safely and help others escape their fate. The Cursebreakers have all had their Brands removed as well for the same reason.”

“No, they said it can’t be removed – the ink contains poison.” You don’t know where this tone of defiance has emerged from, but there is no flash of anger across Clive’s brow.

“It is risky to remove, yes, but not impossible. And we will not ask you to undertake such a risk – that would be your choice.” He adds, quickly, worried you may take it the wrong way.

“You remember Molly, who brought you the stew?” You nod. “There are many others like her who have chosen to keep their Brand, but it does not dictate their lives in the Hideaway. And until you can live the life you deserve to, one where that mark on your cheek will not make it unsafe for you to do so, I sincerely hope you will find a home here.”

“A home?”

“Mm. Safe, fed, and never need to use aether again, my…” He pauses in realization. “My apologies - may I request the pleasure of your name?”

You shake your head, feeling foolish. “It’s silly, but I… I don’t remember it. Such a simple thing to have forgotten, but master didn’t use it.”

Of course the bastard didn’t - Clive feels a frown forming, but restrains himself. “I am sure it will come back to you with time.”

His eyes fall upon the pastry in the following silence, wishing to change the subject and he picks it up, placing it on the flat on his palm and offering it out to you. “Please – have some more to eat.”

Clive has a shy smile on his lips, a genuine and sincere look in his eye. It is the kindest look someone has given you in all the time you can remember and with that, your fingers brush across his open palm as you take the offered treat.

It is small – only two bites – but it is the most wonderful thing you have ever tasted. The pastry is crisp, thin and sweet, whilst the lemon curd is tart, the flavours dancing over your tongue.

It makes you want to cry at such a simple pleasure that has been denied to you for so very long.

The moment of euphoria is interrupted as a particularly cold wind gusts across the lake and causes you to shiver, unconsciously pulling your limbs closer to your body to try and preserve heat.

“Thank you for trusting me, my lady. I cannot imagine how frightening and worrying it must be – I truly admire your bravery. May I be as bold to request you trust me once more this night?”

You nod – the tiniest jerk of your head down – but it’s a nod all the same.

“Would you allow me to escort you to the infirmary? It has warm and comfortable beds where you can rest - properly.”

The question makes your stomach squirm with anxiety – the food sitting too heavy now in your stomach, but one look into Clive’s eyes almost settles it entirely once more.

“And in the morning, if you feel up to it,” he clarifies, “our healer would like to give you a check-up, but you do not have to make a decision on that right now.”

“A-all right.”

“Wonderful.” He keeps his tone measured, quickly wrapping up the food in the cloth and securing the top with a knot before he gets to his feet and steps back as you get to yours. He gestures forward a moment, quickly second-guessing his actions with a frown.

“Mayhaps you would be more comfortable following me?”

A small nod again.

You can’t be backstabbed if you’re facing his back, after all.

“Of course. Follow me, please, my lady.” He bows ever so slightly, before turning and heading back up and along the dock.

Clive’s heart is pounding as he walks away, worried that you may take his retreat as a chance to take the skiff and sail away or plunge yourself into the lake, but he dare not look over his shoulder in fear of frightening you.

Instead, he strains to hear any footsteps bar his own.

It is only when he reaches the goods lift that he catches sight of you in his peripheral vision that he releases a breath. He’s sure to stand in the furthest corner besides the lever, only taking one look over his shoulder to confirm you were safely within the confines of the lift before he pulls down on the mechanism.

He walks along the main deck, up the stairs to the mess, past the long tables and the hunt board before he pauses at the bottom of the next set of stairs. “It’s just up here and to the left.”

He opens the door to the infirmary with measured strength – aware the other Bearers will be resting within. The first two beds are occupied by faces you recognize – the two you’d been rescued with – and there is a man sat by a desk. Clive nods to him in acknowledgement and heads towards the other side of the room, sectioned off by a large bit of fabric. Both cots back there are empty, so he walks over to the one closest to the window and pulls the blanket down, then stepping back to the other side of the room and gesturing you forward.

“Here.”

You hesitate. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. The stranger the other side of the curtain has unsettled you. It had been easy to forget about everyone else for a moment when it had just been Clive and you on the dock, but now you are inside… Who else would come when dawn broke?

Clive picks up on your hesitation, noting the way your eyes flit between the window and beyond the curtain, annoyed with himself he did not warn you of Rodiguez being on duty that night.

“If it would be all right with you, my lady, I would like to stay in order to make introductions in the morning with Tarja. But I will only do so if you are comfortable with me – I will set up a chair over there.” He points back the way you came, to the gap between the fabric and the wall.

“P-please.”

“Of course.” He nods, picking up a chair immediately from the side and moving it to where he had said. It is only then that you sit cautiously on the edge of the bed, slowly lifting your legs up and tugging the blanket up to your chin.

Clive settles himself on the chair – he has slept in far worse places, after all – and it is not long at all until sleep claims you.

--

Months pass. At first, your circle remains small – Clive and Molly at first, followed by Jill before you slowly begin to open up to those among the Hideaway. You will never forget the smile on Clive’s face when he introduced you to Torgal properly – the hound immediately rolling on his back, titling his head at you inquisitively as his master explained he wished for you to rub his fluffy belly.

You are still easily startled by loud noises, unexpected movement or when Gav swears out of excitement, never the loudest in conversation, but everyone is so very welcoming.

There is plenty to do, but there is no expectation of you to contribute unless you want to, especially as some among the ranks are too stiff from the curse. Jill and Hortense teach you how to sew, you spend a few days in the Backyard learning about the plants, Charon teaches you how to take a stock inventory, Gav tries to teach you how to drink a pint in record speed and, of course, Molly teaches you how to bake.

You are always first to greet new Bearers with a soft word and kind smile, telling them how scared you were, how you hid in the alcove on the deck…

Clive is often busy whilst in or out the Hideaway, but he always makes time for you, seeking out your company immediately after he has given Otto the latest, wanting to know what you’ve been up to before he’ll even speak of himself. He even picks up little trinkets that he thinks will make you smile – lined up on your windowsill in your bunk.

You knock gently on Clive’s chambers – his call for you to enter soon following. You hold the basket behind your back, a piece of cloth tucked over delicately over the contents within as you slide open the door. He is sat behind the writing desk, looking over a pile of missives, dressed in his usual leathers.

He raises his head and offers you the warmest smile, getting to his feet immediately in polite greeting. Seeing you always seemed to brighten his day – there was something about your smile that revitalized his spirits, a reminder of how far you’d come since that first day.

“My lady.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your work.” You say, softly, sliding the door closed behind you.

“You are never an interruption. Please, sit.” He gestures towards the bench opposite his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Before I sit, I have some gifts.”           

“Gifts?”

“Mm. For you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have.”

You place the basket gently down on his desk, ignoring his comment. He pulls back the cloth to reveal a pile of six lemon tarts nestled within.

“Did you make these?”

“I did.” You nod, proudly. “Molly supervised, so they should be edible, at least.”

“They’ll be more than edible, I assure you.” He picks one up and bites into it, humming happily as he chews, the pastry melting on his tongue. “They are exquisite – truly.”

“Really?”

He feigns a pout at your question. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You shake your head with a shy smile.

“Then I would hardly start now.” He takes hold of you hand for a moment and squeezes. “Thank you.”

You bite your lip before continuing. “There’s… something else.”

“I am hardly deserving of this gift, my lady, let alone more-”

You interrupt him with a name – your name.

His eyes widen for a moment before he murmurs it back to you – sounding all the more wonderful on his tongue - and you nod, excitedly. You’d been reluctant to choose a new name, despite some suggestions. The inhabitants of the Hideaway had instead picked up on Clive’s term of address instead.

“I remembered, like you said.” You wring your fingers together. “Well, in a way. Tomes was reading a story to the children and there it was, after all this time.”

“It is a beautiful name – I am honoured to learn it.” He takes your hand with a bow, pressing a kiss against your knuckles and saying it once again.

When he releases your hand, you press a quick kiss against his stubbled, scarred cheek. “Thank you.”

Clive’s cheeks redden at your kiss, seemingly speechless for a moment. He smiles, almost bashfully, as he looks down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“May I give you something in return?”

“Clive,” you look down as you protest, feeling your own face warm under his gaze, “you’ve already given me plenty. You-” He inadvertently cuts you off as he tilts your chin up with two gentle fingers, determined to meet your gaze.

“You do not understand, my darling. I would love to give you so much more, if only you’d permit me.”

“Oh…”

Clive moves his hand to caress your Branded cheek with calloused fingers – worn from his time of handling his blade – but his touch has never felt so soft.

“May I?”

You nod.

Clive presses a kiss to your lips - gentle, chaste and far sweeter than any lemon tart.

--

Comments and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[slutterhaus]

AN: Clive has made tough times bareable so I wanted to make something cute rather than my regular nsfw content. Thank you @fallendev0tionvn for giving us the perfect bbygirl malewife to love 💕 definitely check out the demo for Fallen Devotion!!

CWs: None except maybe the mention of developing a small obsession with Clive. No beta, we die like barbarians

Other: Second Person POV, GN!Reader, Fluff, Established Relationship, Clive may be a little ooc I'm so sorry. Under read more because it's more than 100 words.

Word Count: 830

Music played through the small speaker located in the kitchen, joined by the sound of something being fried on the stove. You were peacefully making dinner, focused on whisking some eggs to add to the rice bowl recipe you found online. A smile played on your face as Clive’s reflection appeared in the cabinet’s window when you closed it. “Hey.” You greeted. “I know you don’t like anyone in the kitchen with you when you’re cooking.” He began, a playful look on his face as he held his hands up in defense. The dimples you adored were on full display, and while you both knew you couldn’t be mad at him, you decided to feign annoyance and cross your arms, quirking a brow as you tried your best to keep a straight face. “It just smells so good.” He said, emphasizing his statement by letting himself lean to the side as if he were about to faint, letting his arms dangle and closing his eyes.

You couldn’t help but snort at the scene when you turned around. “Alright, alright, sit down. If you were feeling lonely, you could’ve just asked, y’know.” With a victorious smile, he happily sat at the kitchen island that gave him the perfect view of you as you moved around.

You were 22 when Clive came back into your life, and if you were attached to the hip before, you were even more inseparable seven years later. Sometimes you thought therapy was in order, but you already lost Clive once, always wanting to be with him was rightfully justified in your mind. He didn’t seem to mind either, playfully teasing you about looking like a baby koala with the way you stuck with him.

Oh, who were the two of you kidding? Clive had rubbed off on you, and while you knew any type of obsession was unhealthy, you didn’t care at this point. You were happy, in a loving relationship with literally your best friend, and it’s all that mattered to you. All that mattered was that gorgeous smile beaming with appreciation as you set down the bowl of food in front of him, the way you could talk about everything and nothing, and how sweet he was with helping around the house like doing the dishes after dinner.

Though there was always something you wanted from him, something that made you a little nervous. And as he finished with the last dish, you took a deep breath. “Mi vida…” You called, shifting your weight from one foot to another.

“Mm?”

“Would you… give me my first tattoo?”

The question seemed to catch him off-guard, his shoulders tensing slightly before relaxing as he turned around. ‘You…. You sure?” He asked. While he showed some hesitancy, he seemed to be holding back his excitement. You had gifted him a Sol Nova Unlimited, and he went through the fake skins like they were napkins cleaning up a spill, so he was dying to show you just what he could do. "Now?"

"Do you have the stuff at hand? We don't even have a design." You giggled.

Clive paused for a moment before answering. "Oops."

The two of you shared a fit of laughs, landing on the couch as Clive went into his silent fit. The fact that he was struggling so much to get back his composure sent you even further into giggles, sides burning as you buried yourself under his arm to try and calm yourself. The moment was fairly quick, but it was something you were going to cherish forever. You didn't want to live another day without Clive, not when you were left breathless after something so silly. "Tomorrow, then." You said in bewteen soft gasps for air. "Make a list and we'll go get everything in the morning."

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing again with how giddy he looked, a toothy grin on his face as he jumped up from the couch and went to get his tablet.

"What'd you have in mind?" He called from the bedroom. You pulled out your phone as he entered the living room again, tablet in hand while you pulled up your inspiration pics. "You have total creative freedom to make changes, but I was thinking something like this." You said, showing your phone to Clive. He leaned in close, observing the photos with a focused look on his face.

"I got the perfect thing in mind."

A smile crept onto your face as you watched him work, heart swelling with what could only be described as pure love and adoration. Seven years and sometimes you can't believe your sweet boy is back home.

Sure, he looked a bit different, and the scar along his neck brought back painful memories once in a while, but all that mattered was that he was home.

[lovehotelreservation]

"Are you blushing, Clive? Awww, how cute~" You've been teasing him all day and now, he cannot hold himself back any longer. mating press + breeding please 🙏🏼

"I'd say the blush currently on your face is much cuter."

While there was pure mirth in Clive's voice, there was unbridled ferocity in the way his cock sank deep into your core over and over, his hands keeping your thighs parted and legs anchored back to accommodate his thick physique. A groan soon escaped him, both with the imminent rise of yet another orgasm and as a thought came to mind.

"Though, I think a motherly glow will also suite you nicely, my love."

[pinkkittysaw-archive]

HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF

title is based off the song hungry like the wolf by duran duran

halloween night of horrors masterlist can be found here!

pairing: werewolf clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: your lover always disappears on the night of a full moon every month and you’re determined to figure out why

word count: 8,331 (don’t perceive me 🫣)

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be blocked) minor plot spoilers, monsterfucking, teratophilia, knotting, blood, choking, established relationship, slight dumbification, minor breast/nipple play, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink, manhandling, belly bulge/pushing, spit, slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, scent kink, scratching, biting, one spank, hints of degradation, praise, pet names (sweetheart, darling, love) reader is wearing a dress

* i want to give a BIG thank you to @strawberrystepmom for answering all my anatomical questions and helping me through my writing process! she also has a werewolf fic of her own if you want to check it out ^_^

a/n: AND I LASTED TEN ROUNDS LIKE A FREAKKKKK LIKE A GGGGGGGGG. this was inspired by the beach scene with clive and jill, iykyk. I WILL NEVER BE NORMAL AGAIN THANKS TO THEM!!truly did not expect this to get as long as it did but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

recommended listening for this fic is MONSTER by lady gaga

divider by @/benkeibear

Waves crash at your toes from where you stand on the shoreline, and the fire you made from scattered kindling on the rocky beach crackles in the background, its golden flame shining bright against the navy blue sky.

You sigh, staring into the dark ether, hoping and praying for an answer to your troubles. The cold water laps at your feet, manifesting a shiver in your spine that flows throughout the rest of your body. Grumbling, you glare back at Metia and the full moon with disdain, acting as if the two of them were in cahoots with each other, taunting you. You huff, shoving your arms to your sides with clenched fists as you continue to bitch, arguing with the moon and stars above.

"You're not even going to help me? Even though you're the cause of all this?"

Your index finger is shoved into the sky, pointing directly at the hunk of rock that floats within it, and it's not long after that gust of wind blows through you, billowing through the skirt of your pale dress, causing it to fly in right your face, a protest of sorts in response to the little tantrum you were throwing.

You fold the fabric back down onto your legs, holding its hem while letting out a snide, "Well, I hope the two of you are enjoying yourselves," before you turn your back in defiance and slosh through the ankle-deep water toward the fire, choosing to settle down on your bed roll for the night.

You shouldn't be surprised. All your prayers turned out to be for naught; it'd be foolish to think that this time would be any different.

You pout and pull your knees to your chest, settling your cheeks on the joints of your legs as you stare into the fiery embers, the sand scratching the skin between your toes as they curl into the seashore. You had long since forgone your sandals, as keeping the granules out of the material proved to be a losing battle.

"This was such a foolish idea," you mutter to yourself, choosing to reflect on the actions that brought you here.

You and Clive had been courting for several months now, and in that time you began to notice a particular pattern he developed. During the three days surrounding every full moon, he always disappeared without a trace, unable to be found anywhere in the hideaway.

It wasn't uncommon for Clive to be away from the hideout; if anything, he was probably away from it more than he wasn't, always coming to someone's aid. As long as they roamed the lands of Valisthea, he'd be there.

But after three separate occurrences of him disappearing around the same set of circumstances, it began to look less and less like a coincidence and more like a habit. The first two times he "vanished," you had attributed the cause to "business as usual," assuming he was off assisting the curse breakers or aiding in the transportation of recently freed bearers, but the longer the two of you stayed together, the more prominent his disappearances became. 

You had confronted him about it once, apprehensively inquiring if he had taken on another lover during his time away. You heard the tale of his time in North Reach before he, Cid, and Jill eventually set their sights on destroying Drake's head. Maybe he'd found a courtesan at The Veil on his returning trip to Sanbreque after word of Isabelle needing his assistance came in.

He immediately shot the notion down, sympathizing with your cause of concern. He reassured you that you were the only one for him, and you believed him, of course. He's been nothing but loyal and devoted to you throughout your whole relationship so far. Even Jill stepped in and vouched for him at one point, stating that "cheating was far beneath him" and that he "treasured you more than anything else in the realm."

Yet he still didn't do much in providing an actual explanation for where he was going, stumbling through an excuse about the Mothercrystals and needing to stay away for your protection, but the risks of danger hadn't stopped him from brainstorming strategies with you before, so why now all of a sudden was he coddling you like a child? If not a secret lover, then what else could be hiding from you? Not even the collection of books residing in the Shelves provided an answer as to why your lover would disappear for three days time every full moon.

The longer this went on, the more you assumed everyone was just taking the piss out of you. Sure, most people in the hideaway were often busy with their own assignments, but you couldn't have been the only person who noticed a similar pattern of behavior, right?

You took to asking people around the hideout if they noticed a change in Clive's demeanor, with most of them stating that he'd been acting as he usually would, nothing out of the ordinary, while some others, mainly Tarja, thought it'd be funny to get a bit cheeky with you, commenting, "Wouldn't you be the one to notice if he was behaving strangely?" She means no real offense, so you try your best not to get frustrated with the more empty answers you're handed. It wasn't their fault that your lover was so cagey about his whereabouts. It's not like they were his keeper, as he was the one everyone answered to. You even took to inquiring Otto about it, though it didn't prove to be any more fruitful as he spat out the same Mothercrystals excuse as Clive did.

Your last and final hope was Jill. She had known Clive the longest—since they were children; if anyone were to have insight on what was going on with him, it'd be her, but you're met with similar responses as Clive and Otto. An apprehensive look crossed her features when you asked her if she knew why Clive was disappearing each month or where he went. She simply shrugged her shoulders, shook her head, and stated that she hadn't noticed anything strange going on with him, which only proved to make you more suspicious. 

Having had enough of the unanswered questions, you decided that the (not-so) smartest thing to do would be to take a little trip during the week of the full moon and not tell anyone. Was it a bit selfish? Desperate? Yes, but you rationalized that if you disappeared during that time, Clive would have no choice but to come out of hiding and look for you, thus leaving you free to discuss his whereabouts. It definitely wasn't the most well-thought-out plan you've ever come up with, but the lack of transparency was beginning to drive you mad.

The next few weeks were spent making preparations for the trip ahead in secret, taking on extra assignments to save up gil so you could spend a few nights at an inn. The night before your departure, you decided to take on all outstanding alliant reports on the bulletin while everyone was asleep so that you could circumvent a scolding from Otto about skipping out on your duties when you returned.

Early to rise the next morning, you gather a small pack of your belongings and shuffle off toward the pier before Clive awoke, careful to slip from his gentle embrace so as to not rouse him from his slumber. You glance down at his sleeping face, taking in how peaceful he looked while resting.

You gather your pack and make your way toward the boats. The sunrise on the open water is a stark contrast to the scowl that Obolus greets you with so early in the day.

"Good morning!" You beam, your smile shining brightly in his direction, as you carefully step onto the ferry.

"Someone's rather chipper this morning," he snickers, preparing to set sail in the blighted waters.

"You could say that," you respond, taking your seat on the wooden boards as the vessel starts to bob in the water and glancing back as the hideaway comes to life, everyone beginning to start their day.

When choosing a destination for this little excursion, you soon realized that there was only one correct choice, so you set your sights on Rosaria, having expressed wanting to return there to Clive before, so if he truly knew you as well as he claimed, he'd have no trouble finding you.

The majority of your time was spent at Martha's Rest, helping her out with the ever-growing cray claw population that seemed to be terrorizing most merchants traveling in the area. It was peaceful, with most nights spent exchanging tales with the locals over pints of ale.

On the day before the full moon, Martha half-joked about keeping you stationed with her, finding your company to be most pleasant, and though you couldn't make any promises, you assured her that you would stop by whenever time allowed.

It was only on the night of the full moon itself that you decided to take to the sea. The salty air and crash of the waves gave you a sense of tranquility unlike any other. It was almost as if you could sit back and forget all the horrors of the world around you.

As you draw swirl patterns into the sand with your finger, you begin to wonder if Clive will ever find you. Maybe he never even realized you were gone, and you'd be forced to return home with your tail between your legs, not having gotten any closer to the answers you so desired.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Clive was actively on the hunt, having noticed your disappearance shortly after your departure that morning. The space beside him in bed was cold and empty when he awoke. Though confused, he didn't think much of it; sometimes people are being sent away as reinforcements without much notice.

His day went pretty much the same as normal, though an underlying discomfort lay deep within him, wishing to share details of upcoming plans with you but being unable to.

It's not until you don't return that evening that he begins to get antsy. Deciding that he doesn't want to come across as overly possessive, he manages to hold his tongue, only voicing his concerns about your absence that night at the ale hall during supper, his dining mates recounting that they haven't seen you but to "not fret as you were probably just sent away on an overnight assignment."

He nods, taking some solace in their words as he sips from his mug, washing down the food. They were probably right; you were just off helping someone somewhere, but knowing that doesn't make his restless nights go by any easier, leaving him to toss and turn in his sleep without you.

It's not til three days go by without so much as a whisper of your whereabouts that he decides to go looking for you, finding one of your undershirts and stuffing the material into the pouch on the back of his belt. He goes out in search of Otto, hoping to find some information in regard to your whereabouts, but it's when he comes up empty in regard to your station that he really starts to panic. He informs the elder man that he'll be out for an unspecified amount of time and to make sure all missives are delivered to his desk upon his return, then storms off to the pier with a look something fierce in his eyes as he demands Obolus take him to where you disembarked. Obolus, not wanting to argue with a clearly pissed-off Clive, rows him to the destination.

You're distracted from your wallowing upon hearing a shrill howl in the distance. Quick to refocus, you swivel your head back and forth in all directions to try and determine the location of the sound. That's when you see it—a dark figure perched upon one of the nearby cliffs. The midnight sky shrouds the size and shape of the creature, though its piercing azure eyes remain distinct amongst the sea of black, piercing right through you from the tall height. 

Just as quickly as you make eye contact with the creature, it lurches from its spot on the cliff, prowling toward you like a predator honing in on its next meal, sniffing as if it smells your fear and your very blood running cold. Only when it's within range of the fire's flame are you able to tell what lingers in the dark. A wolf. Its fur is as dark as a raven's feather, black like soot, and much different from the standard mix of greys and whites of the usual worgens. Rosaria was no stranger to wolves, but they were never of this magnitude; its body was almost double the size of the usual stray. You're confused as to what it was doing so far out from the greenery; was this a newly created breed? Made solely for the purpose of hunting lost damsels wandering the coast at night?

As it draws near, you're unable to look away, its eyes drawing you into a trance, captivating yet familiar, almost as if you've seen them before.

It snarls at you, its ears and lips drawing back to expose the glint of sharpened canines that await you, its tail sharp and stiff, a warning sign: DANGER! DANGER!

You scoot backward in the sand toward your sword, buried in the sand. The wolf is still approaching just as slowly, its bark and growls echoing off the ocean and ringing back into your ears. Was this how you were going to meet your end? Slaughtered and torn to shreds by a rouge wolf, becoming its dinner, never to be seen again while your corpse decays on an abandoned beach?

You feel the cold steel amongst the granules and unsheath your blade, drawing it slowly as you rise to your feet. You do your best to steady your nerves, your heart hammering in your chest so wildly that you're assured that the beast can hear its drum as well. Though skilled with a sword, the circumstances couldn't be more against your favor; the instability of the sand and poor lighting make it more likely that you'll topple over and impale yourself before ever slaying the creature.

It growls once more, rearing its hind legs, ready to pounce. You brace yourself for impact, taking your best stance as the wolf leaps into the air. You're knocked flat on your back on the bumpy terrain, your sword falling from your hand as the air is strangled from your lungs, your body aching from the collision. It stands over you now, nose to nose with the beast that'd be your undoing. Its drool leaks onto your face; puffs of air are exhaled and manifested into the ether as it breathes in and out. You clench your eyes shut as it leans closer, praying that your death will be swift when you feel...a lick?

The long, fleshy tongue makes a slobbery mess of your cheeks and face as the wolf wags its bushy tail back and forth. This was bizarre, but you'd much rather be covered in sloppy hound kisses than be torn to shreds, so you accept your strange fate while continuing to giggle.

"I never expected to make a friend all the way out here," you coo, giving your best baby voice as you scratch the hound behind the ears.

A few moments later, you're blinded by a bright, pale light, transforming the once yipping black wolf into...Clive? Or at least you think it's Clive. It looks like him, the figure possessing the same crystalline eyes and dark shaggy hair, yet he still looks vastly different, as if he were half-beast, retaining the increased height, bulk, and hair as he did in wolf form. The rounded, fluffy ears and sharpened fangs are still present as well. You don't even realize he's naked at first due to the amount of thick, coarse hair covering his body, only being able to tell when you catch a glimpse of the few more intimate scars that lay between the follicles, reflecting in the flame's light.

He falls to his hands and knees, scampering toward you, pulling you close by the arm for a chaste kiss.

"Ouch," you squeak, scuttling backward as something sharp pricks your skin. He's quick to pull away, and that's when you notice the claws extending from the tips of his fingers, curled and sharpened to a fine point.

"My apologies; I'm, uh, not used to touching people when I look like this." He reaches out to cup your face, frowning a little as you twitch backward at the sight of his large hand. His fingers are gentle as they caress the sensitive skin of your cheek and neck, not wanting to startle you further.

"What are you doing all the way out here? Where have you been? What if something happened to you? What if-?" He begins to question, losing himself in the possibility of what ifs

"Clive," you cut him off, raising your eyebrows to stare at him like he's just grown two heads. He tilts his head to the side, perplexed, while you ask, "Are you not going to explain what's going on with you?"

"You're... a beast."

He sighs, sitting back on his hind with a dejected posture. "This," he gestures up and down his body, "is what I was trying to protect you from."

His eye catches a glimmer upon your flesh, trailing from your bicep to your forearm.

"You're bleeding," he mutters, turning your arm in his grasp to get a better view.

"It's alright," you stammer, reaching up to apply pressure to the cut when he looms over you, extending his head and tongue toward the abrasion, lapping at it quickly. You're taken aback at first, quirking an eyebrow in his direction, but soon realize that this is his means of comforting you, in his own dog sort of way.  His tongue also maintained its wolf-like qualities—long, pink, and rough—yet it didn't feel too unpleasant on the skin. The cool breeze against the wet saliva on your skin creates goosebumps along your body.

He continues to tend to your cut til he's assured the bleeding has stopped and the metallic tang no longer gracing his tastebuds. He pulls back, sitting on his rear once again. "You still haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine. I've seen a lot of freaky things in my lifetime, Clive, but this...this requires an explanation."

A beat of silence passes as the two of you sit in front of the fire, illuminated in its orange haze. A small breeze of wind blows through the both of you, the moon and stars shine down from above.

He exhales defeatedly. "I'm... a werewolf."

You scoff, finding the words a bit silly coming out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's true.  I was turned that night at Phoenix Gate all those years ago. It was the only way I could've survived." He pauses, lowering his head and drawing his ears back once again. "I never found the person who turned me—I don't believe I ever will. Though sometimes I wonder if saving me was worth it, seeing as it turns me into a monster."

"Clive..."

He shakes his head, ruffling his fur, a toothy grin adorning his features. "Never mind that."

"Every full moon, I transform into this beast against my will. That's why I'm away so often. That and well..." His words trail off as his eyes make contact with yours across the fire, scanning your face and body.

"Well, what?"

"Nothing," he smiles, eyes softening as he continues to look at you. "Now it's your turn; what in Founder's name are you doing all the way out here?"

You chuckle timidly, heat flooding your face—the likes of which you hope he can't see as you scoot away from him slightly, wishing you could bury your head in the sand for reacting so poorly.

"It's silly... and dumb," you mumble, trying to wave him off, turning your back toward him in an attempt to hide any further embarrassment. He grabs your hands in his, the size of them eclipsing your own, while he pulls you closer to him.

"It's not dumb, not to me," he says, running a fur-covered finger up and down your cheek. "Besides, it can't possibly be any dumber than me turning into a wolf," he chuckles.

You sigh, closing your eyes in preparation. "I was getting frustrated with the lack of communication, so I decided to just..."

"Run away?"

"Aye." You hang your head low in shame, kicking up a cloud of dust from the sand with your toes, feeling stupid and childish for having reacted this way.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. It wasn't fair to you."

"It's alright."

He cups your jaw, nudging your chin up between his grip so that you're both on eye level, his eyes much sharper than before. "It's not alright, love, we're a partnership. We're supposed to trust each other, and we can't do that if I'm not being honest with you. I'll do better from here on, alright? I promise."

You give him a sickly-sweet smile, nodding in agreement as he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

"So how did you find me? I mean, I was hoping you would, but still, I'm curious."

"You really want to know? It's quite embarrassing."

"Now I most definitely want to know," you giggle, leaning toward him.

"Well, I uhm..." He becomes more bashful as he continues on. "I tracked your scent."

"I pulled one of your tunics from the laundry bin and used that to help me track you down."

"My scent?"

"Mhm," he grumbles, slowly leaning into you more and more, causing you to fall back on your hands as he draws near. "Your musk is very distinct. There's nothing else in Valisthea quite like it." He gets closer and closer, nudging his head under the skirt of your dress, getting incredibly close toward the apex of your thighs before taking a big whiff. "And oh, so addicting." Your eyelashes flutter in surprise, building heat throughout your body. This had to be some wolf thing, right? He never acted like this before.

You place your foot on his shoulder, pushing him back on his haunches, trying to shoo him away from under your dress with a subdued "Down boy."

He snarls faintly before wrapping his hand around your ankle and pulling you toward him, effectively dragging your body through the sand, scratching up your back, and getting the granules caught in your dress and hair. It'd take weeks for you to wash it all out.

He tugs on your leg til you're dangling in the air, holding you up as if you weigh nothing, yanking you higher and higher til your sweet cunt is pressed against his nose once more. He takes another huge whiff of your pussy and relishes in the scent that fills his nostrils. Your body contorts slightly, your abdomen tightening while you hold down the part of your dress that's fallen in your face, only to see him nosing at your underwear, licking his lips, and staring at you like you were a big piece of meat.

"I can smell you, you know," he whispers, licking a broad stripe against your folds through the gusset of your underwear. You can't help but thrash in the air, your back arching as the width of his tongue reaches every crevice of your cunt in one fell swoop. Oh, this was certainly different, but you liked it.

"I can smell your arousal, Founder, your scent is so addicting." He nuzzles into your pussy again, rubbing his nose back and forth over your clit through your underwear, grinning at your desperate mewls and whines.

"You smell so fucking good," he murmurs and delivers another broad lick to your panties, effectively soaking them with his drool. "And taste even better," he winks. "But your scent isn't the only thing I can sense. Your heart rate has increased quite significantly, as well as your breathing." Partly from fear but mostly from arousal.

another broad lick and a sniff

"You're probably debating whether or not it's okay to be attracted to me while I'm like this."

another lick

"Mmm, fuck," he growls as more of your essence pools in your knickers. "But don't worry, I can make the decision for the both of us." He gives an airy laugh.

another sniff

His claws graze the seam of your panties, slightly unraveling the stitching. "Please let me taste you," he pants. "Please don't deny me your sweet nectar."

"I've gone far too long without it," he mumbles as he begins to make out with your pussy through your underwear, while his claws start trailing over the rest of your body as you continue to hang in the air. Clive was never one to shy away from pleasuring you with his honeyed tongue, but this was a whole new level of desperation.

"Please," he pleads.

"Alright alright, just put me down. I'm starting to lose feeling in my legs." He grins and happily obliges, his tail wagging rapidly as he drops you slowly onto the sand by your ankle. You lean back on your elbows so as not to get any more sand in your hair, and spread your legs wide for him. He gets on his hands and knees, crawling over to you seductively before lifting the hem of your dress over your pelvis, exposing your soaking wet knickers to him once again. 

He smiles down at you, admiring the view of your disheveled state while dragging a claw on your inner thigh, making you shiver before he tucks the nail into the crotch of your panties, tearing them straight off your cunt with little resistance. The fabric is left in tatters beside you when you gasp, your slick folds now fully exposed to the chilly evening air.

He groans as he lifts your hips into the air, throwing your thighs over his broad shoulders as he makes eye contact with your bare cunt, all wet, spread, and exposed just for him. Your bum is in the air slightly as he settles himself on his elbows, his large hands wrapping around the plush of your thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh slightly. He gets on eye level with your pussy, the hairs on your mound drenched from his salvia. You look so appetizing to him that he can't fight off the desire to sink into your wetness.

"Do you want to know the real reason I stayed away all this time?" He asks, bringing his mouth closer to your cunt, nibbling on your inner thigh with his teeth, causing a slight blood trail to trickle down from the skin.

You whimper but nod your head in response.

"Your scent tempts me like no other." His rough tongue laps up the blood spilled from the nick he created, leaving you writhing for more pleasure.

"It'd take everything in me not to mount you right where you lay and take you as my mate." You groan at that, causing a chuckle to escape him while he continues to nip and lick at the skin surrounding your pussy, neglecting where you need him most.

"Clive, please," you whine, having had enough of his teasing and desperately wanting him to push you over the edge with that sweet tongue of his, so after deciding that you've had enough, he gives you what you so desperately crave: a long swipe of his tongue from your entrance, all the way to your needy, swollen clit.

You arch your back while he groans at the taste. Something about being in this form enhances his senses and the pleasure he receives from pleasing you.

He gathers a pool of salvia behind his teeth and spits it on your cunt before he pulls you even further into his mouth, swirling the wetness all along your poor neglected pussy. The change in texture brings you heightened pleasure as his tongue drags along your clit over and over, making you mewl and whine in his hold.

Your hips begin to buck against his face, and he's gentle when he pulls the sensitive nub between his sharpened teeth. Your fingers find themselves in his shaggy hair, curling into the roots, where you give a slight tug, pulling him even closer into your cunt. He groans into your pussy as more of your arousal leaks from your quivering hole.

He detaches himself from your clit, moving down to your entrance, where he laps at the escaping juices. It's like a drug to him, one that he simply can't get enough of, so it comes as no surprise when he wiggles his tongue into your tight hole to collect even more of your flavor on his palette. He pushes the warm muscle further and further in, slurping up every last drop you provide, not letting a single one go to waste. It's such a foreign sensation, but you can't deny the pleasure you derive from it when he begins thrusting it in and out of you, effectively fucking you with his tongue.

"Fuck, Clive," you moan as his efforts hasten, greedy for more of your flavor.

Your hips continue to rut against his face, clit knocking against his nose with every buck upward. You're whining, whimpering, and writhing all over the place while his strong, calloused hands keep your hips pressed against his face. He takes over for you and grinds your pussy all over his face while continuing to tongue-fuck you as you're reduced to nothing but whimpers due to the sensations, your cunt beginning to pulsate around his warm muscle as the whiskers on his face tickle your clit in ways you've never felt before.

His rhythm against you is brutal; your legs are beginning to shake and your toes starting to curl. A slew of pleas fall from your lips, begging him to bring you to your sweet release, and he's always been one to please. He growls out "cum for me" before suckling your clit back between his lips, hard.

You wail loudly as you see white behind your eyes, your thighs squeezing around his head tight while continuing to tug on his hair, slowly bucking your hips as you continue to ride out the rest of your high.

Clive keeps up his efforts on your clit, making your hips jolt as he overstimulates your poor pussy. With a simple tap on the side of his face and a muffled "enough," he lowers you back down again, being sure to cover your exposed sex with the skirt of your dress once more.

"That was..." you begin to rave, lifting your head up to meet his eyes only for your attention to be drawn elsewhere, particularly toward the protrusion from his lower half that's now sticking straight in the air.

Heavens above, was that his cock?

Your eyes are diverted once again as he begins licking his chops, swirling his tongue all around where your wetness graced his face. Poor thing, he always did get unbearably horny when eating you out.

You reach out toward him, wanting to provide some relief, when he backs away, shuffling in the sand.

"You don't...you don't need to do that..."

"In fact, it's probably best that you didn't."

"Are you sure? It looks like it hurts..."

His cock looked a lot different than usual. It was angrier, meatier, thicker, longer, his whole shaft red in color instead of the pretty pale yellow tone you're used to, and it was hard, so incredibly hard, with precum leaking down onto the sand below. You've never had anything like it before, but you knew you wanted it, and you wanted it BAD.

"It's alright, I can take care of myself when I turn back, besides, if we do this, I won't be able to stop myself, and I- I don't want to hurt you." He attempts to cover himself up from your wandering eye, but that serves to only work against him as he whimpers every time he bumps into his erection, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

You crawl toward him slowly, your hands and knees sinking into the sand as you move forward. "I trust you, I know you won't hurt me." You settle between his legs, dense, dark, coarse hair covering the base of his cock. "Let me make you feel good too," you mumble, grabbing his shaft with your hand. It's hot to the touch, with way more veins, the base more rounded and bulbous than usual. You pump him up and down slowly as he mewls and growls against your touch. 

"This is your last chance," he huffs. "I won't be able to hold myself back." 

"I want you just like this, Clive," you lean in, pressing a wet kiss to his lips while you continually stroke him. "Don't hold yourself back," you whisper, smirking against him as the two of you kiss some more, both beginning to pant into the other's mouth as the excitement builds.

He emits a low growl and picks you up by your hips, planting you down on all fours in front of him. The hem of your dress is torn by his claws as he lifts it over your bum, your cheeks on full display. His hand comes down with a swift SWAT to your ass, leaving tiny abrasions on your skin from his nails. Your body propels forward from the impact as you squeal, your pussy starting to drool with arousal once again. 

He leans himself over you; his broad body is heavy on your back as it casts a large shadow in the moonlight. You can feel all the hair that covers his legs as he presses into you, the follicles tickling the back of your thighs as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"I'd much rather take you on your back, spread you nice and wide, have you laid out all pretty underneath me like you always seem to enjoy," he murmurs in your ear, trailing his hand from your thigh to knead at your breast through your clothes.

"But unfortunately, your choice of locale for throwing this little tantrum prohibits that sort of thing."

"We wouldn't want sand to get where it doesn't belong, hm?" He removes his hand from your breast and interlocks his fingers over top of yours, where they've sunk into the sand. Though his hand is so large, he might as well be clenching his fist around your own.

He sniffs your nape, then presses a kiss to the back of your neck. "I'll be as gentle as I can til you're ready for more, alright?"

"I'll make this as pleasurable for you as possible," he coos. When he notices your body shivering, though he's unsure if it's due to the cold or nerves, he runs his free hand up and down your side in a soothing manner, in an attempt to help calm you a bit. He plants a sweet kiss and a lick on your cheek, and it manages to pull a short giggle from you, which he smiles at.

"I'm ready."

With your fingers still interlocked together, he carefully begins to insert himself, and it takes all of his will to not buck his hips and go balls deep inside you. The hug of your warm, wet walls on his weepy, swollen cock is almost too much for him to bear.

You bite your lower lip and grunt as he pushes in, feeling like you're being torn open from the inside out. He can sense your discomfort; your heart rate skyrocketing due to the pain. He's quick to move his other hand from your side to your clit, rubbing smooth, soft circles on the bundle of nerves with the pad of his fingers.

His ears pull back at your discomfort, and he nuzzles his nose into your neck further, trying to soothe you through more licks and kisses to your neck.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whimpers, and your heart all but breaks at the sound.

The ministrations on your clit start to overtake the burn of your nethers and you encourage Clive to keep pushing in further. It's a prolonged effort, with him moving in short increments every so often til he was as deep as you could allow, stopping just short of the bulb inflating the base. He was already quite well-endowed, having little to no trouble bringing you to sweet bliss on his cock, but this was a whole new world. His cock felt like it now resided in your guts and that your guts were now in your longs. His girth, the likes of which you've never felt before. Your cunt strangles him with everything it has; every bump against your ridges fills him with pleasure.

Once he's as deep as he can go with minimal resistance, he brings you over the edge by playing with your clit. Sadly, there's not enough prep in the world that would make taking him an easier feat, but he's hoping that the now relaxed muscles in your cunt will make the whole experience more pleasurable.

He continues to coo and coddle you as you come down from your second orgasm of the night. The squirm of your smaller form against his fills him with amusement. There's something so primal about him mounting you like this, caressing your soft skin while making sure to comfort you through lots of kisses and nuzzles as he whispers words of affection in your ear. You're pretty sure your cheek is going to be rubbed raw by the end of this.

"You're such a good girl," he murmurs in your ear. "You're doing so good for me."

He stalls his hips while you gather yourself, collecting your thoughts as you try to bring yourself back into the moment. It's only when you give the go-ahead that he starts to move, taking care to make sure that this part is done with caution as well until you're accustomed to any sort of rhythm with his size.

Your fists dig deep into the shore as the veins of his angry cock drag along every single bump and groove inside you.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," you growl between your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut tight at his slow and methodical thrusts. You knew he was just making sure you didn't get hurt, but it felt like him going this slow and deliberate might actually kill you.

"Clive, you can move a little faster," you pant.

"Are you sure? I don't want to-"

"Yes, I'm sure just-" you clench down on him harder, hoping that will drive the point further. "Just please..."

"Alright then," he mumbles, settling his face on your shoulder, his big, bulky body still encompassing you. He moves his hand down to your hip, where his thumb draws soothing patterns into your skin while his hips start to rock back and forth. It's a slow rhythm at first, which admittedly you're thankful for, knowing that you'd probably regret telling him to go all out once you're forced to waddle to the infirmary and explain to Tarja why your nethers looked the way they did.

It takes everything in you not to groan out in pleasure, and after noticing this, of course, Clive goads, gaining a more steady rhythm, his pace quickening with every passing second.

"There's no one else here but you, me, and the stars, love."

"You can be as loud as you want." After heeding his proposal, you let out a loud moan into the open air, which echoes softly over the ocean.

"That's it," he praises, licking a stripe on your neck. It's not long before you feel the coil winding in your belly once more, signaling your impending orgasm. You attempt to reach down toward your clit when Clive smacks your hand away, replacing your fingers with his own as he rubs fast circles on the pearl.

He's grunting and huffing in tandem with your moans, the two of you fucking like wild animals as his hips snap in quick succession against yours. His cock glides against the soft, spongey spot deep inside you over and over with no end in sight. Your toes curl as your cunt squeezes down on him even harder than before, screwing your eyes tight as you brace yourself for the impact of your oncoming orgasm. The weight of his cock makes you see stars as you reach ecstasy once more.

"Fuck," he groans against you, digging his face deeper into your neck, inhaling the scent dripping off you from your sweat, your body lunging back and forth as he continues to fuck you. You presumed this would be the finale, but soon realize you're dead wrong as he grabs you by both hips again and sits back on his heels, effectively spearing you on his cock as your legs are spread wide over his thick, hairy thighs.

His claws come out to shred at the material of your bodice, ruining the fabric of your dress and making it so your tits bounce wildly with every powerful thrust he delivers underneath you.

Your body is akin to puddy at this point, your head resting against his shoulder as he bounces you up and down on his cock. His fingers come down to pinch at your nipples as you writhe against his body, the cool evening air making them hard as rocks while he plays with the rest of your body to his own enjoyment.

It's not long after that you find yourself on the brink again as you succumb to becoming his personal fleshlight, his thrusts unrelenting while he whispers more sweet nothings into your ear, his fat cock bullying your sopping hole. The crashing waves are the only sound capable of drowning out the squelch of your cunt from him fucking into you so well.

You cum again with a loud cry, your body falling against him as you fully lose yourself in pleasure, becoming weak and limp in his arms while he holds you upright.

"Think you can handle one more?" he smirks.

You nod and mumble incoherently while he stops thrusting, positioning himself on your bedroll to lay fully on his back.

Your legs are spread as wide as possible over his lower torso and hips, your sloppy cunt exposed for all the stars and heavens to see.

You tilt your head slightly when Metia and the full moon come back into view. You mouth a breathless "thank you" to them, as it seems your prayers for having Clive come to your aid were answered.

In your delirious state, he guides your hand down to your lower abdomen, right where his cock lies inside you. He then takes his other hand to the back of your head and eases your neck upward to look at the protrusion, his cock causing your abdomen to bulge out. You go a little cross-eyed at the sight, and he takes your hand under his and presses down on the bulge, which draws out a low whine from you both.

He snarls, "Can you feel how deep I am inside you?" You nod haphazardly, not able to do much else. He chuckles at your disposition and begins to slowly thrust back from underneath you.

"By the end of this, I think you'll be molded to the shape of my cock, your cunt ruined for anyone else." He laughs while you whine and writhe; his slow, languid thrusts not enough to drive you over the edge.

"Awwww, sweet little thing just wants to cum again, huh?" He mutters in your ear, smirking as you mewl, your pussy clenching down on him while he laps up your sweat.

"Alright then, darling, I'll give you what you want," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before increasing his rhythm once more, his bulky arm coming down to scoop underneath your knees and pull your legs toward your chest, allowing him to reach even deeper inside you.

You do something unexpected; in your bliss-induced delirium, you bring his hand that's pushing down on your belly up toward your throat and wrap his thick fingers around your neck slightly. He huffs down at you, his body still hard at work, pounding into your sopping cunt.

"You want to be choked now, do you? This is new. Are you sure this is what you want, sweetheart? I don't want to hurt you." You nod as enthusiastically as your aching body will allow, closing your hands overtop his once again.

"Alright, alright, I get it," he chortles, slowly but surely pressing down on the sides of your neck, reducing the blood flow.

From behind, he starts foaming at the mouth, his thrusts getting more brutal both in pace and intensity. How he managed to last this long is beyond you.

He releases his hold on your legs and moves down to rub quick circles on your clit, his other hand squeezing down tighter as you get closer to release. Your hands come up to squeeze your own nipples, and the edges of your vision get hazy as you start to lose consciousness and feel extreme bliss.

"Cum for me," is whispered in your ears, and all of a sudden, your brain and lungs are flooded with oxygen as you experience the most intense orgasm of your life, letting out nothing short of a silent scream as your body spasms and arches wildly. The rush to both your head and cunt is greater than anything you've experienced before.

Clive keeps thrusting into you as he drives himself toward his own release, the bulb on his cock continuing to knock into you, ever so slightly entering you with every movement.

"Clive, w-what is that?" You rasp, your voice shaky from its extended use over the course of the night. He takes on a much more shy attitude after hearing your question, continuing to groan.

"It's m-my knot."

"Your what?"

"It's a wolf thing; it helps keep me inside after I... you know..."

"It helps with mating, but you don't have to take it if you don't want to."

You shake your head back and forth. "No, I want to. I want to take it."

"Fuck," he growls. "Are you sure?"

"YES," you wail.

"As you wish, darling."

It's a few short, sloppy thrusts later when Clive sinks his teeth into your shoulder, grunting and howling as he stuffs you full, pushing his knot fully inside you while he goes balls deep into your cunt, your pussy swelling and stretching to accommodate the excess girth.

"Heavens above," you cry, your back arching toward the sky as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, ropes upon ropes of his warm spend shooting deep inside you as he's milked for all he's worth.

You both slump against each other in the aftermath, his hands coming up to caress your body. "We're going to be stuck like this for a while."

It's sometime later that you're snuggled up on Clive's body as you lay both bare underneath the stars together. His huge body keeps you warm while you twirl your fingers into his chest hair, his mouth coming down to press multiple kisses to the crown of your head.

"So you won't fully transform back until sunrise?"

"Correct."

"And you've been like this for over fifteen years?"

"Mhm," he mumbles.

"Where do you go for those three days? Clearly, you're not at the hideaway."

"Do you promise not to laugh at me?"

"Who do you take me for? Of course, I won't laugh at you."

He sighs, trailing his fingers up and down your back. "I actually go back to Rosalith. I've got a little den set up there."

"How adorable," you tease, making a kissy face at him. "You'll have to take me to go see it sometime."

"I don't think so," he smirks.

"Wha- why not?" You huff, an adorable pout forming on your face.

"Let's just say that I really wouldn't be able to hold myself back in that instance, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there." He presses a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose.

"Okay, okay, last question. Did you really mean all that filth you spewed about why you disappeared all those times?"

"It's partially true. All my senses are heightened, and you truly do become irresistible to me. Not that I'm any less attracted to you normally, but it's...different." He pulls you closer to his chest.

"Though I suppose I was mostly afraid that you'd look at me differently and that you wouldn't want to be with me anymore."

"Clive, I've watched you prime into Ifrit with my very own eyes; do you truly believe that I'd leave you because you transform into a hound?"

"Wolf," he corrects.

"Same difference," you chuckle, raising your head from his chest to peer into his eyes. A lovesick, dopey grin is plastered all over his face when he looks at you, despite his words of insecurity.

"I'm with you no matter what, Clive. No matter the challenges or struggles you may face. I'll always stand by you. I love you, and that will forever remain true," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, and you swear you can see his pupils double in size as he repeats the phrase back to you.

You rest your head back on his chest once again, enjoying the feeling of contentment before speaking out, "We're going to have a lot of explaining to do back at the hideaway, won't we?"

"Oh, most definitely."

[robo-writing]

Thigh Riding with the FFXVI Boys

Rating: 18+ Pairings: Reader/Clive Rosfield, Reader/ Cidolfus Telamon, Reader/ Barnabas Tharmr, Reader/Joshua Rosfield Author's note: I had some vile thoughts about Clive's thighs, which evolved into this. I truly have no shame.

Clive Rosfield

You’re both lying in your shared bed chambers, what started as a chaste kiss soon turned into more, the heated exchange leaving you aching for more. His lips assault your own, large hands bringing you closer and closer into his lap as you grind against him.

“Founder, you’ll kill me,” he groans with a smile, rolls his eyes as you straddle his leg. 

“Come on Clive,” you whine. Dragging yourself higher and higher on his thick thighs. “Lemme ride you? Please? I promise it’ll feel good, just let me—”

A clench of his thigh and you shut up, whatever you were going to say interrupted with a cry of his name.

Clive shakes his head, holds you down and moves your body faster. “This is your punishment, for being a tease the whole day—”

You’re aware of your actions, how you had bent over in his favorite sundress, pressed your ass against him as he walked past and let him wanting in the middle of the hideaway. Even so you beg for forgiveness, cradling his head between your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you plead, kissing at his jaw. “I just wanted to mess with you a little, please—”

“You certainly did,” he grunts, watching your body shake with fascination. “And now you reap the rewards. You come like this or not at all, understand?”

You want to argue, but his steel gaze makes your words die on your tongue. Another whine, your hips move on their own, faster and faster still. Pawing at his bare chest, the hard plane serving as an anchor as he manhandles you.

He swallows every noise you make, every high-pitched sob and wail you make only spurring him further. “What’s wrong? Can’t take what you dish out?”

There’s a cruel laugh that leaves him, but you’re too far gone to care, aching for more until his fingers find your clit.  You fall to ruin with his name on your lips, your release dripping against his thighs. 

You share a moment of calm, breaths entangling with each other, the silence broken when his cock presses at your entrance.

Strained, he sighs into your mouth. “You’ll be the death of me,” before flipping you onto your back.

Cidolfus Telamon

When Gav mentioned Cid needed you in his solar you had an idea of his intentions, but you never expected to find him shirtless in his chair, legs spread.

“I was just thinking about you,” he said as you entered. Fully turned and beckoning you toward him, his voice invites you closer.

“Here, come take a seat on your commander's lap.”

He’s a tease to the highest degree, you knew this already, but he still manages to surprise you. You look to his legs, and back to him, biting your lip in hesitation. 

“Come now,” he drawls, patting his leg. “I know you’re interested.”

Damn him and his smug grin because he’s right, and it only grows wider when you walk forward. One step, and then another, his eyes follow you closely as you straddle his leg, finding just the right spot that makes your breath catch in your throat.

Observant as he is, he feels your reaction, leans in close to say: “Right there?”

He moves your hips just slightly and you answer with a sigh. “Yes, right there.”

He makes a noise in agreement, and then rocks you back and forth, drawing out the cutest moans from your lips.

“Told you it’d feel nice,” he sighs. His voice echoes in your ears, makes your body hotter as he drags his thigh against your pussy. 

“Suppose that’s all you need then,” he teases. His hands grip your ass tighter when you grind into him. You’re lost in the feeling of the soft leather against your clit, your head hanging down as you pick up the pace.

Don’t, don’t say that—” you gasp, whimpering when he lands a slap to your rear.

“That’s not what it looks like to me.” Another slap echoes through the air. “Seems to me you’re enjoying yourself plenty. Willing to bet I don’t even need to fuck you, just let you sit pretty on my lap just like this—”

His leg rises higher and higher, laughing as you tremble above him. “I’m right aren’t I?”

Grunts bounce off the walls, a rhythm forming between the two of you. “Don’t even need my cock, do you?”

“I do,” you moan, uncaring of how loud you are. “I need it, please—”

“What was that?” He huffs, bites at your neck and licks at the marks he leaves behind. “I can’t hear you dear, speak up.”

“I need your cock, please Cid!” you cry, holding onto his shoulders. Your legs burn with exhaustion, back arching into his touch. He bounces his thigh once, twice, growling in your ear as he does.

“Come for me love, and I’ll let you have it.”

There’s a moment when your body goes numb, before you become awash with emotion. He comforts you through your orgasm, mumbling praise as you press yourself into his hold, shaking.

A moment of quiet, you feel the press of his bulge against the side of your leg as he speaks.

“That was only the beginning, we still have the rest of the night.”

Barnabas Tharmr

Sleipnir informed you that Barnabas would be missing all day, with him being unable to return until nightfall. Diplomatic duties, he called it, and even though you knew it was a requirement of being king of your own nation, you couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit lonely. That loneliness soon turned to longing, and when he left you alone in your shared bed to continue his work, that longing turned to lust.

You knew he was busy, but you didn’t really care. You wanted to see your husband, manners be damned.

Your entrance is announced with the gentle creaking of the door. Instantly his head lifts to admonish, only for his gaze to soften at the sight of you.

“My love, what are you doing here?” He asks, neck deep in a stack of papers. He usually looks exhausted, but it’s as if the sight of you alone gives him a boost of energy. 

Wordlessly he opens his arms and you stride toward him, falling into his embrace. He holds you tight, breathes in your scent and sighs blissfully.

“I’ve missed you, my king,” you mumble in his hair, your voice carrying an all-too familiar whine to it.

“Is that so?” He chuckles, watches you nod with a pout on your lips. “I apologize for neglecting you, my dear. As you can see, I have been otherwise occupied.”

He waves towards the messy stack of documents half-heartedly before looking back to you.

“I know, I know,” you agreed. You move to sit onto his lap and he lets you, the feeling of his warm hands against your waist making your body relax. “Couldn’t you take a break? For me?”

For once you take advantage of your charms, give him the best doe-eyes you can and stroke his jaw. There’s a moment of weakness, the temptation to give in visible in his eyes, but he soon shakes his head.  “Unfortunately I cannot.”

The disappointment is visible on your face. A kiss to your temple does little to help.

A beat, he takes your chin between his fingers and gives you a sinful smile. “I have an idea, if you’re interested.”

You nod, following the movement of his body. He relaxes further in his chair, pulling you forward.

“I can’t stop my work, however…”

He shifts, places you fully onto his leg and purrs into your ear.

“...you are free to take what you need.”

He looks at you expectantly, your facing getting hot at the implication. Your eyes flick between him and your position, easing yourself onto the thick muscle with a languid pace. Slow, calculated, you glide onto him until your lust catches up with you, burying your face in his chest as you rock back and forth.

“That’s it…” he coos, leaving a kiss to your cheek before working on his papers once more. “Behave, and when I’m done I will make sure you’re taken care of.”

Back and forth, you move erratically, and even though his eyes are on his paperwork his attention is on you, the slight bounce to his leg bringing you to new heights. You whine into his tunic, a familiar heat blossoming in your core.

He takes notice immediately, holds you down and presses you further as he clenches his leg, comforting you as you shake and shudder on top of him, struggling for breath.

“Such a pretty sight, my beautiful queen falling apart.” he mutters, his eyes ripped from whatever he was doing before to watch you. You’re certain you’ve left a mess of his pants, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. 

“I barely have to touch you, desperate thing that you are.” he hums. His words bring you to completion, thighs shaking with the force of your orgasm. His strong hand rubs your back when you collapse on top of him, kissing at your face and tasting the sweat from your brow.

“So well behaved,” he quipped, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Now, are you satisfied or would you rather I lend my efforts?”

Joshua Rosfield

When Joshua suggested trying something new in the bedroom you were on board immediately. You fully trusted him heart and body, but you will admit, you had your doubts in the beginning.

“So, I just sit?” You ask. He nods excitedly, beckons you close and pats his leg. You follow, letting yourself settle into his embrace.

“You trust me, right?”

“I do, it’s just…a little simple, don’t you think?”

He kisses away your doubt, your body relaxing under his touch. “Have I ever left you unsatisfied?”

The answer comes to you easily. “No, but—“

He interrupts you with another kiss. “Then trust that I will not start now.”

And so he kept his promise, within minutes you were helplessly moaning into his mouth, descending into madness with each push and pull, his hands glued to your waist.

Somewhere between begging him for more and crying out his name you apologized for ever doubting him.

The desire you feel suffocated you, grips you tight and doesn’t let go. A particularly hard bounce has your eyes closed in pleasure before Joshua brings your attention back to him.

“Don’t close your eyes dear, look at me,” he whispers. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders, but you look up anyway and stare through half-lidded eyes.

“There you are, that’s it,” he gasps. “I knew you could do it.”

He surges forward, capturing your lips as you squirm on his lap. He swallows every noise you make greedily, a desire to consume your very being. His fingers sneakily find your clit and circle the sensitive nub, forcing you to pull away and cry out in bliss.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he coos. “I’ve got you, just let go for me.”

You do as he asks, letting your juices run down his leg. Your hips stutter against him, body soon falling limp and succumbing to pleasure. Your mind still feels heavy with lust, mouthing half-finished sentences until you can manage to catch your breath.

“Where the hells did you learn that?” you mumble.

He chuckles at your weakened state, running his hands across your body. “I may have heard Cid mention the idea.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Your laughter falls in sync with his as he speaks. “Even so, I thought it was interesting. I enjoy looking at you. It’s not everyday I get to witness someone so pretty.”

Your face runs hot at his words. “You see me every day though.”

He places a chaste kiss on your lips. “And yet it’s never enough.”

He maneuvers you onto the bed, crawls between you and plays with the waist of your underwear.

“Now, be a dear and let me see more.”

[sato-riii]

Dealing with a writers block sucks so bad, cause I know what happens in the plot but the little connective scenes that make everything cohesive? Those make me want to pull my hair out, and damn none of it feels right! Or it does and I’m just not seeing it. :/

Anyway, while I deal with that here’s my updated mental harem (characters that take way too much head space, should be paying me rent but oh well) - and I’m ranking them cause I can! Ya know what? I’ll add a song I associate with each of them too! (ALSO ADULT LANGUAGE AND SMEXUAL THEMES, MINORS GTFO) also this isn’t proofread and I’m not wearing my glasses either so if anything is off… well :/

Characters mentioned: Vergil Sparda, Sephiroth, Gojo Satoru, Sukuna, Enjin, Clive Rosfield and Yami Sukehiro.

At number 7. Yami sukehiro! Oh my…. I remember watching black clover for the first time and I legit was that meme “blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff”, yeah that one… AND HES VOICED MY MY FAVOURITE VA?! AND HES HUGE AND BUFF?!? GODDAMN! I get it Charlotte, I too I’m smitten by this himbo!

8/10 only because black clover needs to come back so I can obsess again!

Song I associate with him: I still burn by fozzy

At number 6 we’ve got Clive Rosfield! Woooow, now, do I love this man? Yes! Am I attracted to him? Yes! But I’m not thirsty, (yes his shirtless when I play him in tekken but thats besides the point!) ff16 is probably my favourite game like ever because of how amazing of an mc he is and yes Jill is our wife. What would Clive do? I ask myself when I’m in a difficult situation. Clive is what every man should STRIVE TO BE, the standard for sure and thats why I love him!

As a character he’s definitely a ten but he gets an 8,5/10 cause obviously I’m not that healthy :/

Song I associate with him: Even in Arcadia by sleep token.

At number 5 we have good old sephiroth. I was obsessed for months! Watched edits at work to make my day, replayed ffvii both remake and rebirth to no end and I convinced myself he would’ve turned out fine if it weren’t for hojo. Also got lot more theories about him, I love this unhinged mamas boy.

9/10 one of my longest hyper fixations loved every second of it!

Song I associate with him: The world is darker by neverending white lights.

Number 4 rightfully goes to sukuna! I was obsessed with this man since I first layed eyes on him, college was fun cause I would just drink at home and kick my feet at fanart of him, brainrotted so bad I imagined him as a tattoo artist!!

9,5 just because I was a traitor in the end!

Song I associate with him: silence like the grave by paradise lost

Number 3 goes to satoru gojo,(told you I’m a traitor) the crush out I experienced two years ago?!? (Was it two years ago? I have no actual sense of time)I was crying like a baby and honestly still not over it, I love that man!!!! Like too much, if you ask me hes my buddy and we gossip on the phone every week. My favourite fic ever is a gojo fic and it altered my brain chemistry!!! Funny thing is I didn’t get it at first, didnt get the hype at all actually but I was a manga reader and idk what happened but it was like a switch flipped and suddenly I did get it.

9,8/10 I still save edits of him!

Song I associate with him: ultraviolet by spiritbox

Number 2 goes to Enjin from gachiakuta. Yes I started reading the manga. You can’t show me a man with tattoos and a smoking habit and expect me not to fall head first?! I too have plenty of tattoos, The gender envy I get?!? It’s seriously no joke HES so damn cool :0 also my current hyper fixation. Tall blonde and tatted and his expressions? Man’s funny as fuck! TAKE ME ALREADY HES GOT ME FERAL

9,9/10 I’m in limerance or whatever thats called.

Song I associate with him: shadow in the sun by Joe p.

Number 1 goes to my man, Vergil sparda. GOD DAMN! I gotta say 10 year old me had taste! Then dmc5 came out and ahh… My man! I recently played the games again and I’m so in love. Also currently writing for him, so you know I’ve got it bad! Criminally misscharacterised too. I know this fucker loves deeply, so do I come here pls. The amount of content ive consumed on him is probably illegal in some countries I’m in so deep, I can talk about him for hours and hours and never get tired! My family knows about Vergil my coworkers know about Vergil and when that Netflix anime came out I was yelling at 3am when he came on screen and I nearly accused every other male character of being him. Is it dmc 3 Vergil? Dmc5 Vergil or nelo Angelo? I do not give a flying fuck cause I love every version I ever layed eyes on! I’ve got so many ideas for this man, and quite honestly he’s an insanely written character!

11/10 I JUST KNOW HES A YEARNER TOO AND GOD DAMN PLS VERGIL GIVE ME ONE CHANCE!

Song I associate with him: Thread the needle by sleep token. Also look to windward by sleep token too. I can actually write a whole thesis here… you can not tell me that sleeping with this man doesn’t feel like that first song I’ll leave it at that.

That concludes my list, I may or may not have tattoos for most of these characters.

[firerose18991]

Shacking Up

Gildarts x Reader

Minors DNI

Info: reader gets hit with an enchantment that sucks the energy out of the body in a peculiar way🥴; p in v, fem reader, age gap?

Wrd cnt: 2.67k

The rain poured on the tin roof covering the worn down mountain safe house. It was just your luck you ended up in the thick of it with another wizard on the abandoned half of the mountain. You took the assailant down but not before they casted some weak enchantment on you. You barely noticed the faint purple lettering over your abdomen but as the night drew quicker and the letters amplified themselves their effect made itself known.

But there are little miracles in this world. You were positive once you got to the safe house that no one had been there for months. You could probably stay there for a few days uninterrupted until the effects wore off. Is what you thought while you sat by an old scratched window watching the rain storm turn the summer mountain scene into a mudslide. The house was anchored with magic so you didn't worry too much about going with it.

But a loud thump at the door made you much more alert. The cabin is free for any travelers through the mountain but you'd hoped to be lucky enough to be the only maniac out in this kind of weather. When the door swung open you saw a clothed figure. He entered through the frame with heavy, metal like steps. And swung the door back into place, as if it was some flimsy plywood door, not solid oak.

You curled back a bit into your spot by the window as he walked in.

“This damn mountain.” He cursed. Throwing off his tattered hood and dropping what you could only assume was a bag of stones, to the ground.

He quickly snapped his head to look at you. You tried not to jump at the sight of him. The magic power he emitted was more than what you could pray to protect yourself from in your state.

“Well this is a surprise, most folks don't make it to this side of the mountain alive.” He smiled at you. “Sorry to break in on a lady, the rain caught me by surprise. This place is usually free.” His hand tangled in his auburn hair shyly as he brushed back his hood.

“It's not a problem, I was just getting some sleep so I could get off this mountain.” You let out a breath of relief in seeing he meant you no harm.

He laughed “ Yeah looks like this place chewed you up kid. What'd you get into it with some vulcans?”

“Close enough.” You slouched into the corner feeling even worse.

“Well how ‘bout some dinner? Nights like these always make me crave some green mountain soup. Course I can never finish the pot by myself.”

Now that you'd thought about it you hadn't eaten since noon yesterday and you wouldn't make it down the mountain hungry.

“If you don't mind.” Your eyes darted between the floor and his stubbled jaw.

“Course not.” His roguish smile and warm tone drew you in.

Enough to coax you off your perch to walk over and help. But as your feet hit the floor your legs couldn't support you.

“Wha” You gasped as you fell forward only to be caught by the stranger.

“Up you go.” He lifted partially to your feet, still using him as a support. “Looks like you got cursed. Don't tell me you were out fighting the mountain bandits.”

“It was for a job” You grunted as he sat you back down. “I just had to steal something back for someone.”

“Yeah but those guys never let you get away with anything. May I?” He lifted you and indicated at your abdomen where the enchantment energy radiated off of you.

You nodded with hesitation. He lifted your shirt slightly and frowned.

“Yeah I know what this is. The curse of fatigue. The more tired you are, the worse the effects. Worst 6 hours of my life.” He rubbed his beard.

“What are the effects?” You struggled a bit to sound clear.

“I think you already know, dear.” You squeezed your legs at the pet name.

“It lasts 6 hours?”. You were breathing noticeably from fear.

“That's how long it took for me to recuperate my regular energy while still afflicted by the curse. It varies from person to person.” He looked in your eyes which threatened to spill over at any moment. “I'm Gildarts by the way. I'm a Fairy Tail wizard. And you?”

“I'm (Y/N) I'm just a freelancer. I don't have any-one… to come get me.” You choked through the sentence as you began to cry.

Gildarts’ hand came up to your back to cradle you.

“Shh don't worry sweetheart you'll be okay. I'll make sure you get home safe. And we wouldn't be able to move now, you're exhausted.” His hand stroked down the side of your cloaked body

“Let's get you settled down for now.”

He pulled out the mattress left for travelers in the closet and set it out on a platform it tucked snuggly into. Followed by some blankets and worn down pillows. He walked over to get you and placed you into the center where you sank in to cover yourself with the blankets.

“Sorry.” You sniffled as you laid down fully.

“It's not a problem. Don't cry so much you'll make yourself worse.” He patted your head.

“Now, I'm gonna go out and grab a couple extra ingredients for dinner.”

“Outside?” You began to sit up a bit only to be stopped by his index finger pushing you back down into the bed.

“Well I walked here through the storm. I'm just grabbing a couple herbs that'll help you. I'm tougher than some mountain storm.” He walked to the front to put on his cloak and bagged his feet to keep them dry in his boots.

“I'll be back.”

Then left you dizzy where you laid watching the ceiling spin waiting for some noise of his return to stir you while the pit in your stomach expanded and contracted. As if you'd lost all decency you managed to spread your legs wide enough to palm at your soft puffy labia. A curse designed to get worse as you get more exhausted by further exhausting your body. It probably would've killed you on the mountain.

“Death by orgasm.” You laughed a bit to yourself. There are worse ways to go. You shuffled out of your pants only an inch or two, still not fully committed to what you were about to do.

Your fingers smoothed their way down under your underwear and through the slit and nudged at the gummy flesh beneath. A deep shaky sigh erupted out of you. You were already wet or more, slathered in your own dripping arousal. The experimental circle on your clit was messy from the fluid. Getting your bearings on it took a few tries and then you were off agitating the sensitive nerves. Small stifled moans slipped out as you squirmed under the covers. There was still some missing fulfillment between your legs. You spread your thighs instinctively as if expecting something to quell you.

Nevertheless you'd never felt this sensitive, every move felt just right and only added to your release. And soon you felt like you'd crossed the threshold. You swallowed thickly before letting out a broken moan and falling weakly back into the bed. You were so lost you hadn't remembered that Gildarts would be back until the door creaked open again.

You weakly turned your head towards the door but didn't bother to pull back on your pants under the blanket. You were still panting lightly. It was pretty obvious you were decompensating and Gildarts decided to start a fire without many words.

The cabin soon smelled like herb soup. Your stomach growled as it stirred you back to your senses. At some point your eyes had closed. Opening them felt like a chore. You managed a soft hum.

“Hey, it's about ready.” Gildarts was sitting on the bottom edge of the bed sorting some cards. “Think you can eat?”

“Yeah” You started to pull yourself up, with more success than you would've had a while ago.

“How long was I out?”

“No more than 2 hours.” He called from the soup pot.

He brought back a bowl. Instead of handing it to you he took a spoon full and blew on it to cool.

“I don't need to be taken care of.” He put the spoon to your mouth and hummed in acknowledgement. “Don't you want to eat?” You prodded.

“I can wait until you're fed.” You sighed and ate as fast as possible.

Aside from the embarrassment of someone walking on you post nut clarity, He's now feeding you. Oh so teasingly close, with perfect messy auburn hair and that pine woods smell about him. If the soup wasn't so good you'd probably feel sick to your stomach from the backflips your pussy performed each time he blew on the soup.

When you were finally done he went over to get himself a bowl and sat to eat at the table. You faced him half staring at him as he ate.

“Did you want some more? It's kinda hard to eat with you starin’ like that.” He joked.

“It's not like I can move around much right now, but if it'll make it easy for you to eat I'll close my eyes.” You rolled 'em before they shut.

Now you felt vulnerable, as you were 100% sure if you were to open your eyes you would be met with him staring at you laying in full view under a fairly thin blanket. You heard some shuffling from his end after a while and peeped one eye open.

“I thought the soup would knock you out again, but my cookings’ never been something to write home about.” He was taking off his outer layers of clothes and hanging them up.

“How ya feeling?” His well toned back chiseled its way through his tight shirt.

“About the same.” You hid your rapidly heating face behind the covers.

“Do you think you can sleep through it?” He was over by you again. He smoothed a hand over your head.

“I'm tired, I just can't sleep.”

“Alright, let's see what else I can do for you.” He winked and set his hand lower on your hip.

“Okay” you whimpered, feeling the solid grip on your hip.

The wooden supports creaked underneath you as he settled onto the bed between your legs

He tousled his hair letting the slicked back locks flow and curl around his face.

“Putting on a show?” You tried to crack a joke but it just highlighted the cracks in your voice.

“Just wanted to give you something to hold onto.” He leaned down to capture your lips in a smoldering kiss.

You moaned oh so pitifully into his mouth. So you didn’t mind when he made quick work of removing the covers, your top, and remaining undergarments. All the while, quelling the sweet noises “the spell” compelled from you.

His large hands moved to fully cup your breasts, pinching lightly at the pert supple nipples that bloomed. You squirmed freely beneath him, legs tangling the sheets below and knocking against the strong thighs that caged you. Gildarts moved down and suckled on your neck. He nipped and lapped at what you could only assume was the dried sweat from your ordeals of the day. It was heaven to him.

He was no stranger to picking up women on the roads of his adventure but very few of them stuck in his mind. He knew you’d be unforgettable.

Your scent was already stuck in his mind and he would've gone for more. Taking his time to truly savor you. But a swift kick nearly missing his bulging crotch brought him back to his senses. He grinned into your neck, turning the skin with it.

“Can’t let an old man have some fun.” His breath was hot against you.

One hand traveled from your breast down your side, you arched with each inch down until his hand rested on your hip. You moved one leg to hook around his back pulling him closer to your desire.

“You gotta slow down baby, just let me do all the work.” This of course fell on deaf ears as you pulled further down.

He pulled off his shirt revealing his chiseled physique decorated in sunspots, freckles, and a teasing v line and flattering happy trail. He unzipped his pants and slid them down revealing the rest of the trail and a thick cock. He pulled your other leg up and held it in the air where he wanted it with his metal hand.

“Now I mean it sweetie, relax~.” He drawled.

His unoccupied hand rubbed slow circles to start on your clit, eventually moving faster, sloppier and drawing waterfalls from you. Then one finger and two then three made their way inside of you. The spell's effect on your sensitivity had your eyes rolling back with every flex of his hand.

You were in a complete haze letting the ripples of pleasures tear through you. You barely had enough strength to reach up and urge Gildarts on again, running your hand through some hair and resting on his chin which he nuzzled further into. His fingers withdrew and he lined himself up with your weeping pussy. The stretch was delectable and careened through you.

The ample thrust that followed was almost enough to send you over.

Gildarts had taken his spot in the crook of your neck once again. He pumped dutifully. Taking his time to drag his heavy cock out before gliding back in. The soft squelches of your essence that accompanied your breaths of pleasure encompassed the space. It was surreal, you were enveloped in each new sensation that arose. Suddenly the small drops on the roof weren't such a nuisance.

His thumbs dug tender circles into the deepest parts of your inner thighs. You bucked up against him meeting every thrust and then some. You were fighting to meet your release but the increasing lack of energy held you down.

“Just a bit more.” You panted into his ear.

Your soft lips brushing against his face short circuited him. He rallied for the last part of the act holding your lower back off the mattress to leverage hitting your deepest pours repeatedly until you came. You came down sore and delirious, passing out for a few minutes after. Gildarts pulled out and turned the two of you to the side still caged by one of your legs.

—

In the morning the sun leaked through the cloudy windows of the cabin. The storm had passed without much fuss. You mumbled feeling some of the rays bored into your exposed bum. You opened your eyes to see the man you shacked up with, mouth again and head thrown back as if he spent the night waterboarded in his dreams. Your abdomen no longer shone with the purple script and your body felt no worse for wear.

You felt it best to make a graceful exit and delicately started to maneuver your legs and arms away from his hold. You flipped yourself out and over to the other side of the mattress. As you got onto your knees you felt a tug on your ankle.

“Leaving just like that?” Gildarts caught your ankle, leaning up from his possession, hair tousled about like he was fresh from a workout.

“I figured you'd want the cabin to yourself.” You winked.

“Uh uh sweetheart. Last night I helped you so this morning you help me.” He threw his weight on top of you trapping you against the bed and a bulge boring into your thigh.