#cidolfus telamon smut

[iliektehhaxs]

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.”

[inkyclive]

no but wait let me add. can you imagine being cid’s spoiled little brat at the hideout. like after he saved you, he always took a particular liking to you and it went to your stupid little head. he made you feel like his little princess, always showering you with attention and molding you into this devoted little thing to the point where you’re always ready to greet him on your knees in his office when he returns from a mission, head empty and eyes wide and bright for everything little command that falls from his lips.

and it’s almost funny bc like everyone else is so sick of you calling yourself his little wife. and maybe while you don’t explicitly say it you imply it so loud with your actions. especially when cid is away. it’s the way you put yourself in charge of maintaining his study and keeping his belonging fresh for his arrival. you’re always making sure everyone stays in line or else ‘cid won’t be happy when he gets back’. you 💯 call him daddy in some occasions and tarja is ready to strangle you. it doesn’t help that gav is just as delulu and follows you around like a little puppy.

and oh when cid here’s about this he just gets this smug little look. tells everyone he’ll deal with you before bringing you to his study. there he picks you apart, teasing you by calling you his little brat, his little wife who can’t keep his name out of your mouth. so he spends all night making you say it until your voice is hoarse 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

clari you are single handling fueling my unhinged behavior for this ff series ( once again sorry for the spam pls tell me if it’s too much ~)

omg anon what a fucking DREAM

warnings: female reader, daddy kink, size kink, rough sex, extremely bratty reader, morally ambiguous cid, a lil bit of degradation words: 1.2k

okayokayokay so the thing(s) i’m writing for him (one is completely focused on him and pure filth like i mentioned, the other he’s a main character but he isn’t the focus) kiiiinda touches a similar idea because i just think cid would LOVE being with a brat. a playful brat; someone who provides a bit of a challenge without it feeling like any sort of tedious work, someone who keeps him on his toes and is FUN without truly acting out (those genuine tantrums seldom but fierce, only occurring when you don’t get something you desperately wanted, and that’s when he gets to go really Daddy on you, all strict and stern and steely eyes; but he can’t quite quell the self-satisfied little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, threatening to shatter his entire act to bits).  

i just feel like if you were his girl, you’d be spoiled fucking rotten, no matter how hard he tries not to. he just can’t say no to your pretty pout and your puppy dog eyes, and he LOVES the way you giggle and squeal his name or his title whenever he gives you something you want—it’s so goddamn precious and it makes him go all melty and starry-eyed for you <3 he’d treat you like such a little princess 97% of the time and i can totally see some people at the hideaway being a lil sour about it because you get special privileges, you don’t pull your weight, you’re protected by the boss and if anyone dares to say anything they will be respectfully but sternly told to cut it out. cid always has the perfect excuses, expertly crafted and readily on hand or in his back pocket, whipped out the moment anyone even attempts to criticize you for your lack of contribution and work. 

if anything, gav loves you so much that he’s even worse, snapping at anyone who dares to say a single bad thing in your name, effectively earning him the title of your lovesick guard dog; so even when Daddy’s gone, and you get to play queen of the castle, they can’t say—or do—anything at all. it’s rare that you’ll leave your cid’s chambers alone when he isn’t around, gav glued to your side, ever-protective and watchful, ready to bark and bite at anyone who even looks at you wrong.

you really are cid’s precious little princess, they spit between themselves in hushed tones, with screwed up faces and soured tongues, making the word sound like an insult. 

there are definitely moments where cid absolutely has to tell gav to tone it down or reign it in, because in gav’s eyes you can truly do no wrong, an angel among mere mortals, ready to bend over backwards, snap his fucking spine, to your every wish and whim and will. 

and it isn’t like cid doesn’t understand the other inhabitants frustrations, doesn’t listen to their complaints and criticisms—it’s just that he really, honestly, genuinely can’t help but give you every single thing your sugary sweet heart desires. that doesn’t mean he won’t scold you for your behaviour, of course, when you’re bent over his desk and sobbing into the wood, when he’s balls fucking deep inside of you, head pressed snugly to your cervix, his voice a peculiar mix of fond condescension. his reprimands almost come out as coos, almost come out as praises, as if he’s proud, as if he finds it all so fucking cute, because as much as he wishes he didn’t, he enjoys this sick little game just as much as you do. 

he calls you his spoiled little brat, his snobby little slut, his bratty little bitch as he pounds into you, thrusts so hard they send his heavy desk skidding across the floorboards, each ram of his hips shoving it another inch or so forward, wood scraping against wood.

he spits curses about how you’re so fucking pampered, how Daddy gives you too fucking much, is too fucking lenient with you, and now, what? you think you’re the boss all of a sudden? and oh, Daddy guesses he’ll just have to put you back in your place, remind you of who’s truly in charge, even though he knows his bad little girl will have slipped from her ‘proper place’ by morning time—an inevitable outcome, just like you always do, just like he always lets you, just like he always looks forward to. 

and he’s so big, his cock is so big, it routinely rips you apart no matter how much you’ve been prepped, and he just loves watching you take it, either down your throat or in your cunt, stuffing your orifices fucking full of him, until you’re bulging and gorging on him, and then he fucks himself into you some more <3 by the end you’re oozing with him—his cum and his sweat and his spit, a whole mess of Daddy, a masterpiece. 

and even though he knows he shouldn’t play favourites, knows it’s wrong and unfair and essentially goes against everything the hideaway is supposed to be, he just can’t help but get this rush of arrogant pride anytime you dote on him, just can’t help but mollify under your requests and demands, always dripping like syrup from the prettiest pout, smooth and sweet and slathered all over him. but everything you do is harmless anyway—it isn’t like you’re hurting anyone by being a brat, so what’s the big deal?  

so what if you prance around in those silly, slutty lil milkmaid dresses he buys for you—the ones that are an inch or two too short to be considered decent, the edges of your fluffy petticoat just barely visible from beneath layers of linen, the lacy trim of the pretty panties he always gives you (after he ruins yet another pair) teasingly peeking out from under the fluffy frills when you bend over?

so what if you get a little bossy in the name of your Daddy, voice ringing with the slightest implicit threats—a saccharine lil warning sewn into your words, ghosts of my Daddy will...! haunting each sentence—when the other bearers don’t do what you want? 

so what if you don’t exactly do anything, your job nothing more than to sit there and look pretty, Daddy’s perfect little trophy wife, ready to serve him whenever he needs it, wherever he wants it, however he wants it?

so what if your room sits empty and abandoned, reduced to nothing more than storage for the outrageous amount of dresses your Daddy gifts you, while you live it up and lounge around in his quarters? 

what’s it all matter? it’s just a bit of innocuous fun, isn’t it?

any sparks of guilt are immediately snuffed out as he sinks into your cunt or rams down your throat at the end of each day, silenced by your gentle lips pressing soft kisses to his slit, or your cute tongue wrapping around his shaft, or your precious little gags and sobs and coughs as he spurts load after load of thick, hot cum down your throat. 

because the way you look up at him, the way you admire him so much, makes him feel like king of the fucking world, your love and adoration rushing through his veins like a potent drug, endlessly reinvigorating him—and that, well, that makes it all worth it, sin and culpability and remorse instantly erased from his mind. 

and oh, god help them all when he puts a fucking baby in you. 

[geekout-f-t-w]

I'm Writing Again

New fandom, new muse-- i just sat down after a 3 year dry spell and wrote almost 10k words about these two adorably damaged boys and i am not even remotely sorry.

Porn with LOTS of feelings; Clive/Cid-- canon compliant into fix it, so spoilers for some of the early story plots. (exerpt below)

--

“Oh don’t thank me yet,” he huffs, “we haven’t even gotten started.”  It takes everything in him to keep his hands to himself as Clive moves forward, tentatively placing a knee on either side of Cid’s hips and settling in his lap.  Clive needs this- well, arguably Cid needs it too, and has wanted it for a while- but Clive needs it more than he does so he watches and waits.  Clive settles his weight, and only when he rests both his hands on Cid’s shoulders and scoots in even closer does Cid allow himself to touch, his hands coming to rest on Clive’s slim hips, thumbs sliding along the skin just above his trousers. 

“I was expecting to have more of an argument,” Clive breathes with a small smile.

“I may not be easy but there’s no sense in denying myself some fun.”

Clive shifts forward again, a warm weight in all the right places and Cid hums happily.  “I thought I wasn’t your type.”  Cid appreciates the snark in the use of his own words against him.

“Yes well, just ‘cause you think something, it doesn’t make it true.” Cid reaches up, his hand resting on the back of Clive’s neck as Clive leans in, resting his forehead against Cid’s, sharing his air as their breathing starts to come quicker.  Cid brushes his lips against the brand on Clive’s skin, a gentle and reverent touch that Clive initially shies away from, but as Cid continues his feather light touches Clive relaxes, leaning into him as his lips ghost across Cid’s.  

“I need you.”  It’s said so softly Cid almost isn’t sure he heard it, but he reacts anyway, arms sliding up Clive’s lower back and closing the last bit of distance between them.  Clive’s arms wrap around his neck and their lips meet.

-

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Pacify Her || Cidolfus 'Cid' Telamon

A/n: I couldn't help myself with this one. It was on m mind. I'm also considering writing a bratty reader smut piece for Cid too. If there are any suggestions for prompts for him please let me know. Enjoy.

Warning(s): oral (f), female reader, stress, semi-public sex (oral), Cid being a tease.

Stress is a silent killer. 

You groan in frustration as you read over the requests again. Kenneth, the cook, needs more ingredients for his meal plans, and Tarja is almost out of herbs, among a hundred others amassing around the Hideout. With Clive and Cid out doing fuck knows what, there is no one to send on quests. You don't know how Otto deals with this day in and day out. 

I made a promise to give him a break, so I need to figure this out.

You stand from Cid's desk, walking over to the Stolas across the room perched near the open window. The best you can do is send word to Gav to return. This sort of quest isn't his specialty, but you need urgent help. Once the Stolas is sent, you return to the desk to organize the requests. The dangerous monster-related quests you choose to hold for Clive, as he's more suited to them.

Fast at work, you hardly notice the door open until the sound of footsteps interrupts your thoughts. You glance up to notice Cid walk in, but you ignore him, returning to your work.

"No words to welcome me home?"

"You are not welcomed…not after leaving me with all this," you retort, lifting the requests to emphasize your point. 

Cid snorts and walks across the room, standing behind you. His warm breath on your neck brings goosebumps to your arms.

"The kid can handle these, no issues."

You agree with a nod. 

"I had that in mind when I arranged them. Gav isn't too engaged either; he can take a few requests to aid Clive."

"That's my girl," Cid states with a laugh. His gloved hands rest on your shoulders, adding enough pressure to make you hum.

As much as you want him to continue, you know there is work to be done.

"Be as it may, two is not enough to complete every task. Time is not on our side…so if you have nothing to do, take your arse to Martha's Rest."

"I have plenty to do," Cid retorts.

His thumbs press into your shoulders making you groan. 

"Like what?" You ask softly. 

Cid startles you as he suddenly yanks the chair back. You toss him a glare but he ignores you and stands between you and the desk.

"Pacifying you," he answers. 

Your face heats up as you understand what he implies. Cid undoes your pants, helping you to remove them before he parts your knees and leans down between them. 

"What if someone walks in?" You ask in concern.

"Best hope they don't," Cid retorts with a grin. 

The coolness of his gloved fingers bites your bare flesh as he positions you, hooking one leg over the arm of the chair and the other over his shoulder. Leaning in, his warm wet tongue slides up your outer lips and teases your clit. A surge of pleasure shoots through your body making your muscles tighten in response. 

Fuck, you needed this. It's been a long afternoon. You are desperate to come undone by this man.  

Leaning your head back, you shut your eyes to take pleasure in the teasing licks that Cid gives you, tracing your outer lips like the arse he is. He has no idea how much this drives you insane, having every nerve touched on but the one that you need the most.

"Cid…please–"

A soft whine interrupts your plea as two leather-clad fingers sink into your wet heat; the chill causes your walls to tighten. As he fucks you briskly with his fingers, his tongue moves in unison, flicking your clit up and down. You can hardly move. Your muscles are so tight, begging for release. Desperate and needy moans pour from your open mouth as the warm pleasure in your stomach grows, slowly consuming you. 

It starts as a tickle, then relentlessly an orgasm surges through your trembling body like a bolt of lightning. Your hips rise in response, but Cid holds them down as he encourages your release. It's too much. Your eyes flutter open, blurry with tears as you attempt to control your spasms.

When at last the moment fades and your body relaxes in a tired heap, you slide your weak hand into Cid's hair to stop him. 

"How's that, lass? Suit you?" He asks with a wink. 

You shiver as his fingers abandon your walls. 

"I don't…fuck."

"Take a moment, then it is back to work. Lots to do," Cid orders with a grin. 

He stands and leaves you in the chair, taking what papers you have organized and rummaging through them. You are speechless and more exhausted than before.

But at least this time it's in a good way. 

[xxladyballadxx]

FFXVI Masterlist

All the works belong to Kaya Scarlett Ballad. No reposting is allowed. Steal my work and I will block your ass💀

Clive Rosfield

Knight In Love (Headcanon)

Always Be With You

Proposal

Love At First Sight

I Really Like You (Pt 2 to Love At First Sight)

Paperplane (Modern Au)

Would You Like To Dance With Me?

It’s Okay.. 

I Remember.. 

The Mission

Confession

Fire Fairy

Taste of You (Smut)

Colliding Memories (Angst)

Farewell (Angst)

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Joshua Rosfield 

Opening Up (Angst)

Open Your Heart

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Cidolfus Telamon

Warm Feelings (Fluff Headcanon)

Night Of The Storm (Fluff Drabble)

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Jill Warrick

My Lady

More Than Friendship 

Soulmates 

Ice and Snow

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Dion Lesage

Marriage 

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Benedikta Harman

Lust Of Desires (NSFW HEADCANON)

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Barnabas Tharmr

His Queen (Headcanon)

Worthless (ANGST) 

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[ao3feed-noctluna]

from eos to valisthea

by karmaisakhaleesi

"Eikon? You mean the Astrals, right?"

Clive's face twisted in confusion, "First you tell me you're the Princess of a place that's never existed, and now you're calling the Eikons Astrals?"

As the older sister of Noctis, and future Queen of Tenebrae through an arranged marriage with Prince Ravus Nox Fleuret, it was your duty to keep your younger brother and heir to the throne safe. Even if it means being sent to another world not too dissimilar to your own.

 sorry i suck at summaries!

Words: 2597, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Final Fantasy XVI, Final Fantasy XV

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Clive Rosfield, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Cidolfus Telamon, Cindy Aurum, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia, Iris Amicitia, Benedikta Harman, Nyx Ulric

Relationships: Clive Rosfield/Reader, Ravus Nox Fleuret/Reader, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum

Additional Tags: FFXV AU, Dimension Travel, Protective Clive Rosfield, King Noctis Lucis Caelum, Mentioned Noctis Lucis Caelum, reader is the older sister of Noctis, slight /ravus nox fleuret, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Eventual Smut, Smut, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Mentioned Ravus Nox Fleuret, Past Ravus Nox Fleruet/reader

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48684769

[iliektehhaxs]

Sweet Knowing

Summary: Cid becomes aware of the attention you seem to draw from a certain Rosfield, and uses it to his advantage.

Warnings: implied voyeurism, p in v actions, 18+ MDNI

This is the second part to this, but can be read on its own.

Cid can be called a slew of things; Lord Commander, Dominant of Ramuh, Outlaw—but one thing he cannot be called, is a fool.

When he found the young Rosfield in the wastelands he felt his heart tug at the display; of a man beaten and broken, only to find that his mission was to kill his childhood friend, one he thought dead long ago. He didn’t think twice about recruiting him to the cause, bringing him to The Hideaway and giving him a rundown of his plans to free bearers from their lot in life. He offered the boy a hot meal and a warm bath, or rather his beloved did.

When word got around that there was a newcomer she was ready to accommodate him. Bright-eyed and friendly, you had offered him whatever was needed to make him feel at home.

“Gods, your clothes are filthy!” You gasped, scanning Clive from head to toe, shaking your head at the muddied state of his armor. “I’ll run to the markets tomorrow and get you some more suitable attire, I can’t let you sleep in armor.”

“Thank you ma’am, but there’s no need—“ he began, only to be stopped by your stern gaze.

“Nonsense. You’re a part of our merry band and I won’t have you sleeping in iron and steel. Now, when’s the last time you had a hot meal?”

Despite his protests you wouldn’t take no for an answer, offering Clive a handkerchief to wipe his face as you ran towards the kitchens to make your own stew for the war-weary traveler.

Cid noticed it when you set the plate full of soup in front of him, how Clive had gotten just the slightest bit nervous around you. He was already the quiet type but this was a different kind of quiet, as if he was afraid of saying something he shouldn’t. Subtle to anyone else, but not to him.

Intrigued, Cid didn’t say a word, only watched in amusement as the former Lord ate by the spoonful, thanking you profusely.

That same night you offered to give him a tour of what would be his new home. Clive had initially declined, afraid of taking advantage of your generosity, and it was only with a firm hand on his shoulder and encouragement from Cid that he accepted.

“Come now, the nice lady’s offered, you wouldn’t want to disappoint her now, would you?” He grins, waving a hand at your expectant form. “Promise she won’t bite.”

He finishes with a wink before pushing Clive a step forward, watching as he follows behind her like a lost puppy.

Let’s see how far this schoolyard crush goes.

The answer, he’d find out, is very far. Weeks have gone by and Clive still looks at you entranced, practically jumping at the opportunity to spend time with you. Just a minute ago you had offered for him to accompany you to gather some flowers, Tarja needing them for one reason or another, and Cid had never seen the man so eager to leave.

He watches the interaction from a secluded corner, a cigar between his lips, relishing in the view. Your doe-like eyes fluttering, the young Rosarian struggling to keep eye contact—the boy was a fool for you. Not that he could blame him, just looking at you made Cid’s heart jump in his chest, fondly remembering how nervous he was when he asked you to be his.

You were far too pretty, too humble, practically a walking angel and he was…him. He had his faults, but you, you were faultless, despite how many times you tried to convince him you weren’t. You’d spend the rest of your life trying to convince him because as far as Cid was concerned you were perfection personified, and nothing you’d say would change his mind.

His thoughts are broken when you notice his secluded form, the smallest wink being sent his way before returning to your conversation with Clive.

Well, you did have one fault; You could be a bit of a tease.

He still remembers what you told him days ago before he had to leave for an excursion. You kissed him goodbye before his mission, words as sweet as honey, only to whisper pure filth in his ears when no one was watching.

“Come back safe and I might give you a reward.”

He did not miss how your fingers wandered down his shirt for the briefest of moments, before pulling away enticingly.

He doesn’t think he’s ever completed a mission that fast before, or so effectively. Tarja was stunned to find not so much as a hair out of place considering his reputation for getting hurt, but Cid was too busy thinking about just how you would reward him for his efforts. The thought of it made him impatient, made him want to drag you away and keep you all to himself, but he could wait a while longer. You’d be back by tonight, and then he’d have you all to himself.

“Always so eager…” He murmurs against your lips, keeping you pressed into the sheets. Slow, sensual, he holds you close as he fucks you, taking his time to watch your eyes roll back and your jaw go slack.

Your legs close around his waist, pulling him ever further into your wet heat—he could never get used to how good you feel, how quickly you surrender yourself to him. He grinds himself harder against you, listening with pride when you whine his name.

“I missed you so much,” he sighs. “Missed me too, didn’t you?”

You nod shakily, unable to speak. He breathes you in, his hands touching every expanse of your skin from your hips to your breasts, unable to stop himself. His fingers hold firm against your pliant body, the smallest tremble moving through you when he presses himself deeper into your heat.

You cast a spell on him, a lust that borders on insanity. You clench against him so tightly like you never want him to leave, nails leaving angry lines against his back that he’ll be sure to be proud of in the morning. The slight sting only motivates him further, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“That’s it,” he groans into your ear. “Don’t think, just feel, feel what you do to me.”

It’s in that moment that he hears the soft tapping of someone outside his door. Footsteps? This late into the night?

Stopping doesn’t so much as cross his mind—whatever it is cannot be more important than you.

His assault against your senses continues, hitting that soft spot that has you arch your back and moan his name like a whore.

“Gods, Cid…”

He unravels you, he keeps you whole, he takes your sanity and brings you to new heights all at the same time. The whiplash is dizzying, not sure if you should cry or beg for more.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasps, pride in his voice. “Lay back and take it, just like that—“

His heart beats faster when you let out an even louder noise, squirming against his length. So good, so fucking perfect, you’re a dream, one he never wishes to wake from.

He moves with a practiced ease, focused on your pleasure, but also towards the door, distinctly aware of his midnight visitor. There were footsteps coming towards the door but none leaving it—whoever’s there is still listening.

An idea springs forth, feeling just the slightest bit mischievous.

Might as well give them a show.

His brings his thumb to your clit, circling it ever so slightly, teasing the hard nub and watching as you’re reduced to a mess before his very eyes. Mouth open and eyes lidded, you whimper under his commanding touch, begging for more.

“So good, so good, oh gods—please don’t stop—“ You cry, shaking against him. Your legs are barely able to hold onto him, a brutal pace being set and yet you beg him for more.

How could he resist when you ask him so nicely?

So he indulges you, and this time you really can’t keep up, trying and failing to match his rhythm but your poor abused body just can’t, no matter how badly you want to. Cid grabs you by the hips with both hands and presses you flush to him, practically breathing each other’s air. Between the scrape of the bed and the slap of skin against skin, Cid can faintly make out a muffled groan.

The tone is strikingly familiar.

He can’t help the wicked grin painted on his face.

He slows down, just enough to bring your attention back to him as he whispers against your neck.

“Do you hear that? We have an audience.”

Eyes glazed, you slowly gather your bearings before looking at him in confusion. “What are you—“

“Shhh,” he silences you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “It seems like a certain Rosarian has come to visit us.”

He grinds himself against you, your own sound of pleasure being followed by the softest grunt from outside the door. Your head turns, finally realizing with wide eyes.

“Is that—“

“It is,” he moves slowly against you, making sure to keep you pleasured but coherent. “I could tell him to leave, if that’s what you wish.”

He knows you better than you know yourself, so it’s no surprise to him when you shake your head.

“Keep going, please.”

The moment you give him permission he’s back to fucking you, thumb moving against your sensitive nub once more. You keen for him, louder and louder as he chases your lips impatiently, swallowing your moans with his tongue. When he pulls away he growls against your lips, eyes pinning you on the spot.

“Like being listened to? Like the idea of him knowing how desperate you are?”

You shake your head, but the way you tighten up tells another tale.

“Don’t lie to me, I know you do, it’s okay,” He coos, his own high slowly approaching. “You don’t think I see how he looks at you? How you’re so eager to let him follow you around?”

You shake your head ready to deny the accusation. The moment you do Cid’s movements slow to a crawl, holding you right on the edge, tantalizingly close to falling apart.

“Don’t, please move—“ He refuses when you beg, tears welling in your eyes as your pussy throbs for release, a release Cid holds you back from.

“What did I say my dear?” He breathes. “Don’t lie to me.”

You whimper, begging for mercy once again. “I promise, just, please don’t stop, need you to fuck me—”

Cid’s grin is nothing short of sinful. “Need me, or need us?”

The notion makes your heart stop, a shocked expression painting your face. And yet he can feel your velvety walls spasm around him, answer clear as day.

He laughs, breath heaving. “You do, don’t you? Want us to fuck you, treat you like the needy little whore you are—“

He’s moving again, even faster now. This time you can’t even bring yourself to lie, a broken mess below him. Half-uttered sentences and broken moans, too far gone to care about anything except how fucking good you feel.

You scream, and Cid hears a thump outside the door.

Hope he’s enjoying himself.

He wraps his arms around you, unwilling to let you go for even a second. “Fuck—say it, say you want us, fucking say it—“

“Yes—I want it, please—!”

Your cunt is so welcoming, he feels like he’s going to go mad. He gives his all and then some, relishes in how fucking tight you hold onto him, gushing around him.

“There’s my girl, come on, let go for me—“ He grunts into your skin, shuddering as his own release takes hold of him.

You look glorious, spread out before him. Even when you look fucked within an inch of your life he can’t help but admire what a fucking sight you are. He doesn’t stop, keeps going even though he’s so sensitive it’s downright painful, if only to squeeze out a few more seconds of your orgasm. Your sobs threaten to wake the entire Hideaway but he just can’t bring himself to stop.

“Yesyesyes, so good, I can’t—fuck—I can’t—“

“Yes you fucking can,” Cid interrupts in awe. “Be good and let me see you stain the sheets love.”

[iliektehhaxs]

NSFW Alphabet - Cid Telamon Edition

Pairing: Cidolfus Telamon/Reader Rating: Explicit, 18+, minors DNI Author's Note: There isn't enough about this chain-smoking DILF, and that's just a shame, ain't it? Be the change you want to see in the world fellas.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Cidolfus is affectionate both in and out of the bedroom, but especially so after a session of lovemaking. He becomes very vulnerable, so don’t be surprised if he keeps you all to himself after the fact.

He peppers you with kisses, from your neck, to your chest, and back to your lips. It’s almost reverent how he worships you, how he makes you feel alive, seen. 

“Cid, come now, we’ve got to get cleaned up—“ You whine, pushing him away with little success.

He barely acknowledges you, grinning ear to ear as he kisses you slowly, fingertips dancing at your sides. “Let me enjoy myself a bit, it’s not everyday an angel falls into my bed.”

You’re tempted to say something, but his verdant gaze locks you in place, memorizing every inch of your body. 

At this rate you won’t leave the bed until sundown, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Everything, he loves everything about you, but he especially loves your hips, how the plush skin curves perfectly in his hands, how they serve as the perfect grip when he wants to bend you over the desk of his solar, and even more so when they fit perfectly against his pelvis when he presses you into the mattress. A close second would be your neck, for the sole reason that you fall to pieces when he places his lips against it, the prettiest noises threatening to spill from your lips.

For himself, he’ll say his voice. He never thought about it much, but after seeing how his words have an effect on you he uses it fully to his advantage.

He walks behind you, one hand on your hip and the other pressed right below your stomach, just shy of what would be appropriate. He slots himself against your backside, enjoying how deliciously you brush against his cock, the thin fabric of your dress just tempting him to lift it.

“How long have you been at those records my dear?” He groans against your neck, voice like gravel. “I’ve hardly seen you all day.”

His presence is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. You bite your lip, silencing yourself when he nibbles at the skin of your throat, smirking. “Cid, please, you know I can’t…”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, and when he starts to suck a bruise you can barely hold the moan that threatens to spill. “Don’t worry about Otto, I’ll talk to him. For now, let’s take a break in my chambers.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If you let him finish in your mouth, show him how well behaved you are by opening it and swallowing his spend, it’ll drive him crazy. If you bring your fingers to your mouth to lick off any excess while staring at him, be prepared to not walk straight for the next few days. You look up at him, exhausted but pleased. After catching his breath for a moment Cid’s fingers press against your cheeks, a signal you’re very familiar with. “Open.” Wordlessly, you part your lips to reveal his seed, sat heavy against your tongue. A moment passes, and then he nods, watching transfixed as you swallow, gladly sticking out your tongue as proof. He wipes away a stray drop and you bring the digit to your lips without question, never letting your eyes leave his. A visible shudder runs through his body before he drags you upwards, lips meeting in a searing kiss. “You’ll be the fucking death of me woman.” He groans, before pulling you back in for more.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

In his days of travel he’s been experience to plenty of unique locations and even more unique characters, but some of his more odd encounters have been in pubs, surrounded by men of varying morality simply sharing stories around a cup of ale. He recalls one man sharing the tales of his favorite pleasure girl and the various things they do in the bedroom, and he gave mention of how she tied him up once and let her have his way with him. He never thought about the conversation, but when he met you suddenly his curiosity peaked. 

He’d never say it outwardly, but if you were to bring some rope the next time you had sex, he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s experienced, without a doubt. There was a time when his face was known by several women of Waloed who were looking for a good time, even if it wasn’t for a long time. Those days are long behind him, but he’s grateful if only for the fact that he can now use those skills on you. “Didn’t know you were such a charmer Cid.” You taunt playfully, pressed against his side. “Mhm, those days are long past me now. I’d much rather spend my time with a certain someone.” He hums, content to enjoy your company. You smile, asking even though you already know the answer. “Pray tell, who would that someone be?” A kiss is pressed to your forehead, followed by another hum. “Someone very special to me.” 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, Cowgirl, anything where he can see your face. Watching your reaction is half the fun, and he’s a tease, so expect him to embarass you in the best way.

“I love seeing you like this, all pretty on my cock—“ He raises his hips to meet yours, your mind going blank. On instinct you look down, hiding your face until his rough hands hold you by the neck, unyielding even for a second.

“No no no, don’t you dare look away,” He coos softly, almost as if he isn’t keeping you bouncing on his lap. “Keep those pretty eyes on me or I’ll stop, understand?”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

More on the serious side, but occasionally he’ll crack a joke or two. Don’t expect any humor from him past the foreplay stage though, he’s here for one thing only and he takes your pleasure very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He tries, but he really couldn’t care about his pube situation. If you mentioned it he’d probably take more care, but he’s lucky enough that it doesn’t grow out into an absolute jungle.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He has his moments, there’s always a hint of love in his actions even if he’s whispering absolute filth into your ear. He really becomes a romantic after the deed is done, as mentioned in the aftercare. He’s also more of a romantic when you two are alone behind closed doors, where no one can see you.

You lie beneath him, rendered breathless as he thrusts into you viciously, every grind of your cock inside you making it that much harder to function. He tears you apart at the seams, exposes you to your very core, and with a gentle press of his palm in your own, puts you back together once more. “You’re so fucking beautiful—” He grunts, the throaty sound of his voice bringing you back to reality, just barely. “So majestic, so perfect. All fucking mine—” And even when tears brim your eyes, when you struggle to keep your sanity under his skillful touch, he grounds you. A hand at your thigh, or a kiss to your lips, he brings you right back, then pushes you over the edge once again with another sharp thrust. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

High sex drive, but usually doesn’t jerk off. He’s often busy with the hideaway, so he tries to focus on something else and deal with it later. Besides, he’d rather wait for you to take care of his needs, it’s more fun that way. On the occasions that it’s just too much to bear he’ll relax in his bed and think of you, ignorant to anything that isn’t him and his dick in his hand. 

You walk to his bedchambers, searching for his opinion on the latest food shipment when you hear a groan in the hallway. When you get closer to his door it gets louder, and the faintest smirk pulls at your features when you recognize where you’ve heard that noise before. Without warning you walk inside, met with an enticing image of your lover sat against the headboard, thrusting into his hand languidly.

Eyes closed and mouth open, he whispers to himself, hints of your name dancing on his tongue with each grunt, just slightly hunched over with need. At the sound of your voice calling for him he turns, unashamed of his display.

His hand doesn’t stop moving as he speaks, licking his lips at the sight of you. “There you are, I was looking for you. Think you could help?”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dominance - Either giving or receiving. He tends to dominate you but as mentioned before, he has no qualms about letting you take the lead.

Orgasm Denial - He’s a tease, it’s almost downright evil. He could sit there for hours just holding you right on the edge just for fun, he likes how high your voice gets when you’re frustrated.

Praise - Cid would sing your praises to the entire hideaway if he could (and he’s tried, only for Lady Charon to “kindly” tell him to shut his trap.)

Facesitting - Please, sit on his face. He’ll damn near cry at the feeling of your thighs on his ears, please do yourself a favor and sit on his face and you won’t regret it. Sloppy eater.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom, or on the desk of the solar. He likes to hear you scream, so anywhere he can be sure you’ll make as much noise as possible is fine with him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Those pretty dresses you wear around the hideaway when you’re not adventuring. You look good in anything but something about a nice dress is so domestic to him, makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It’s also a bonus that it offers easy access. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything pain-related, or anything that can draw blood. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so any and all weapons are off the table.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He enjoys a nice blowjob as much as the next guy, but he goes feral at the thought of eating you out. If he had his way he’d suffocate himself between your legs and die a happy man. He’ll wring orgasm after orgasm out of you and still not be satisfied, locking his hands together and forcing you still until he's had his fill of you. Tears streak across your face, the pleasure bordering on painful. How many times has he made you come at this point? You’ve lost count after three. Every movement feels strained, your legs have developed a permanent shake, and yet his mouth still moves against your vigorously, no hint of stopping. You beg for him to stop, to let you have a break, but he’s far too engrossed in the taste of you to pay attention. “Please, I need—I can’t—” Words fail you at this point and it hurts to talk, hurts to do much of anything except lie back and let Cid worship your cunt.

“Just one more darling, let me make you feel good.” He gasps against you, barely able to finish a sentence before descending on you again. “One more and I'll stop.” But you know better, because that’s what he said last time. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sensual, with a hint of roughness. He wants to treat you like the princess you are, but he just can’t seem to help himself when you look so damn good underneath him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes, more often than not he has to leave for one reason or another, and there just isn't enough time for a full session. He’s sure to make it up to you when he gets back.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Doesn’t mind a bit of experimentation, he’ll try anything once as long as you respect his boundaries.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Have you seen this man fight? He can go on as long as you need to, and oftentimes you have to beg him to stop. Whether he listens or not, however…

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No, and he doesn’t need to. He can do plenty by himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Incredibly unfair, downright evil. The only thing he loves more than his cigars is the sound of his name on your lips.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Deep groans and hushed whispers, tends to talk you through whatever you’re feeling. Gets real loud when he’s about to come, and likes to bury himself further into you when he does.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Likes when you call him Sir. It started as a joke between you two, calling him the Lord Commander as a joke, which eventually turned into you calling him Sir. He found that he liked it more than he cared to admit, and during a make-out session you actually felt him twitch at the name and made it a point to tease him about it from then on.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6.5 inches, average girth, well-endowed and knows it. Has a vein running along the underside that makes him see stars, but be careful with that information, because Cid likes to return the favor tenfold.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High, but he knows the importance of time and place. He isn’t thinking about it 24/7 but it's fairly obvious when he’s eyeing you from across the Hideaway that he isn't exactly thinking the most tame things about you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not quick at all, he enjoys the quiet time between you two after having sex, tracing every line and curve of your body slowly, taking his time with you. Need water, clean up, conversation? He’s down for it all. He does find it easier to fall asleep with you in his arms.

[iliektehhaxs]

A Commander and His Second

“Cidolfus Telamon, Lord Commander of the Royal Waloeder Army.” He introduces himself, a smile upon his lips. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”  His lips greet your skin tenderly, a gentle caress.  You nod in his direction. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Commander.” You pray he doesn’t sense how tense you are.  “Oh, none of that,” He replies cheekily, head tilted in amusement. “My enemies call me the Lord Commander. You may call me Cid.”  Feeling bold, you ask. “And who is allowed to call you Cid?”  He lets your hand go and rises from his spot, arm slung over his sword once more. With a grin, he replies. “You’re a smart woman, I’ll let you figure that out.”

Pairing: Cidolfus Telamon/Reader Rating: Explicit, MDNI Word Count: 9.8k Words Warnings: Smut, like really really long smut. Read On AO3! Author's Note: Let's pretend like I haven't been MIA for two months! I've had this in the backlogs for a while and I wanted to try and make this the best it could be, but then life stuff happened. Hopefully the quality made the wait time worth it!

You first met The Lord Commander within the hallowed stone walls of Waloed.

Lord Tharmr expected—no, demanded absolute loyalty and perfection from all his soldiers, you being no exception; Those he found promising were offered a place beneath his wing, a status sought after by the many men and women of the Waloed army. It is after many years of servitude that your actions caught the eye of the war-hungry king, making a name for yourself as an effective assassin.

Silent as she is deadly, the bane of any who dare become an enemy of the state. A tool, and an effective one at that. It is after many years of servitude that your actions caught the eye of the war-hungry king.

An invitation was sent to your quarters, a private meeting amongst his personal garrison. Finely decorated as it was, you knew the letter for its true nature; Recruitment to become one of his personal men.

It is at that same meeting, surrounded by others of equal rank, that you meet the Dominant of Levin for the first time.

You enter the room and bow at the sight of King Tharmr, head bent until you hear his command to rise. Only then do you see Lord Barnabas in all his glory, the very image of absolute power.

Beside him is another man, dark hair and even darker clothing. The Lord Commander, you assume. When he turns to look at you suddenly you’re nervous for a whole new reason.

He’s handsome, unfairly so.

An arm slung lazily around the two swords at his hip, a charming smile stretched across his face. Your eyes trail down to the exposed valley of his chest beneath his tunic, and it takes every bit of willpower to force yourself to behave.

Oh no.

“So, you’re the young lady who’s caught the attention of our king.” He asks confidently. You feel yourself swoon.

Oh, he even sounds divine, gruff and husky in the best kind of way. You could listen to him speak for hours.

Your body visibly stiffens, an unfamiliar feeling in your chest blossoming at the sight of his pretty green eyes, the same eyes that move quickly against your figure from afar.

You feel like a young girl again, skittish, naive. You almost forget where you are.

Your attention is only brought back by the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. With a gentle grasp, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss against it.

Fuck me, this is seriously a problem.

“Cidolfus Telamon, Lord Commander of the Royal Waloeder Army.” He introduces himself, a smile upon his lips. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

His lips greet your skin tenderly, a gentle caress.

You nod in his direction. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Commander.” You pray he doesn’t sense how tense you are.

“Oh, none of that,” He replies cheekily, head tilted in amusement. “My enemies call me the Lord Commander. You may call me Cid.”

Feeling bold, you ask. “And who is allowed to call you Cid?”

He lets your hand go and rises from his spot, arm slung over his sword once more. With a grin, he replies. “You’re a smart woman, I’ll let you figure that out.”

You’re frozen in place, not daring to move in the presence of His Highness. You listen, but your attention is elsewhere, your hand still burning from his touch. You chance a glance in his direction and don’t miss the not-so-subtle wink he sends your way.

Gods above, if I don’t meet my end on the battlefield, he will be the death of me.

You would’ve hoped that your schoolgirl crush would end the moment Cid became your commander.

It did not. If anything, it only became more intense the longer you spent time together.

Eikon of Ramuh, you had initially thought that his high ranking was simply due to his status as a Dominant, but longer exposure proved that wasn’t the case. He did wield the power of the gods, but Cid proved himself a masterful tactician as well as a danger on the battlefield, perhaps through Ramuh’s blessing or his own experience. A keen eye able to discern even the most minute weaknesses in the worst of situations, that was the Lord Commander.

But in the same breath you can admit that a good portion of “strategic escapes” are anything but. Gods know how many times you’ve had to bail him out of a tough spot only to have him look up at you with that radiant smile and forget why you were even mad at him in the first place.

The man had an aura about him that could only be described as magnetizing. Strong, not only due to his talents as a Dominant but to his compassion, full of a love for life and knowledge you haven’t seen in ages, if ever.

It also didn’t help that he had a visage blessed by the founder; Moss green eyes full of vigor that could bring you to your knees, and threatened to do so every time he glanced in your direction. In the back of your mind you knew that your feelings had no place on the battlefield, but you didn’t care. For once you let yourself be dictated by emotion, no matter how stupid of an idea it may be.

It was maddening, and yet you invited it all the same.

“Someone’s off with the faeries.” A deep voice mutters behind you. “What’s got your head in the clouds, little miss?” Ah, speak of the devil. Cid teases you from his little spot in the corner as he supervises the new recruits. You stand next to him, broken from your trance. “Am I not allowed to think sir?” You answer sarcastically.

This banter, this back and forth cat and mouse game was familiar, a battle of wits neither of you have been willing to back out from in all the time you’ve known each other. He shakes his head with a grin, turning his attention away from the soldiers in training and onto you. “You’re thinking so hard I’m afraid you might hurt yourself.” He speaks, feigning concern.

“Nothing wrong with some quiet contemplation,” you add with a shrug. “You should try it sometime, maybe then your escape plans won’t always go so pear-shaped.”

He scoffs, that damned grin still painted on his features. “A bit of excitement never hurt. Besides,” he places a hand on your shoulder. “I keep you on your toes.” You look up at him accusatory. “I cannot begin to count the amount of times I nearly had an intimate relationship with the business end of a sword thanks to you.” He lets out a throaty laugh at your annoyance. “Ah, nearly being the operative word—ow!”

He rubs his arm where you’ve punched him, the faintest hint of a glare marring your features. “At least think before you run headfirst into danger!” You hiss. “I swear, if I wasn’t at your side you would’ve died by now.” He hums in agreement. “And I thank the gods every day that you are.”

The same hand on your shoulder squeezes a bit, and you do well to ignore the butterflies in your chest. “In any case,” he waves away your complaints with a shrug. “You love me. If you didn't, you would’ve asked to leave by now.” He’s right, but you’d rather him not know that. So you cross your arms in defiance, returning to watch the poor soldiers being used and abused. “I just enjoy watching the shitshow, that’s all.” The faintest smile graces your features. If you were paying attention, you would see that same smile mirrored on Cid’s as well.

“So? Your opinion?” You gesture to the men-in-training vaguely. Soldiers who were hoping to garner the good graces of the king. “Sloppy and uninspiring, I fear.” He watches as a man brings his opponent to his knees, lauding over his own victory. “No one here has that spark about them, not like you…” His voice trails off in remembrance. “...Now that was exciting.” It’s easy enough to know what he’s thinking about, you being unable to forget it as well. The day of your “recruitment”. Moving through endless bolts of levin, forced to dodge in an enclosed arena while also evading Cid’s masterful swordplay, a task difficult enough without being under the king's scrutiny. Watching, waiting for any mistake on your part. But his opinion didn’t register to you at the moment, considering all you could think of was how handsome Cid looked mid-battle. That, and the trail of magic nearly connecting with your face. It’s a miracle you didn’t meet your end that day. A huff of air escapes you. “Exciting isn’t the word I’d use.” He laughs, leaning back as he does. “And what word would you use?” “Something more appropriate for nearly dying, I suppose.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “You could have killed me, so forgive me if I don’t sound very excited.” “Oh please,” he fixes you with an easy smile. “I wouldn’t have killed you. You’re too pretty for that.” Your eyebrows jump in surprise. “What did you just—” He’s already walking away from you by the time you turn your head. He looks behind him with that godsdamned smirk before winking at you and turning the corner, returning to coach the amateur soldiers. “Smug bastard…” You mumble to yourself, ignoring the heat rising in your chest. You’re starting to wonder if it’s even a crush at this point.

The tavern is filled to the brim with battle-weary soldiers, hoping to be comforted by one of many of the dames serving their drinks, Loud, raucous jeers of orders fill your ears, the young women struggling to keep up with both their constant cries and wandering eyes.

“Barmaid, more ale!” One yells, his body slowly leaning off his stool.

“Come ‘ere, promise I won’t bite!” Another says to a passing waitress, too inebriated to try to hide how his eyes are glued to her body.

You don’t usually go to after-battle celebrations, specifically for this reason. Too loud, too rowdy, too wild. Liquor brings out the worst in people, and you’d rather not be there to see it.

Of course, the only way you would be caught dead in here is because a certain dark-haired commander had invited you.

“Come now, you always disappear the moment it’s time to celebrate,” he complains, gesturing to the bar in front of you. “Loosen up for a change, promise you’ll like it.”

He senses the incoming argument and before you can let a word out he quickly follows up with: “And if you don’t, I’ll clean the chocobo stables for a week.”

A week is a very long time, so you relented. You hadn’t had a drop of alcohol yet but Cid already finished his first cup, showing no signs of stopping yet.

He watches your face contort at the debauchery before you, sarcasm evident in his voice. “The pride and joy of the Royal Waloeder Army, ladies and gentlemen.”

You watch a soldier fall flat on his ass, the surrounding tables barking in laughter. “That’s a stretch.”

He puts his cup down to look at you. “They’ve had a long day, how else to blow off some steam?”

“I’m not blaming them, far from it actually, it’s just…”

You search for the words, scanning the room full of people. “...this is not my idea of relaxation.”

“And what is?”

“Not this, that’s for sure.”

A hand falls to your shoulder, shaking you a bit. “Like I said, you need to loosen up. I didn’t invite you just for the hell of it.”

The confusion on your face is evident. “Why did you invite me then?”

He takes another swig before replying. “You’re too stiff. You work yourself to exhaustion every day and expect it not to catch up with you. Insomnia, I take it?”

You eye him suspiciously. He takes your silence as an invitation to continue. “I’ve heard the soldiers gossip about you entering the training rooms late at night. And the bags under your eyes are telling.”

“And you invited me here to watch over me. What was your plan, hope the atmosphere and alcohol would tire me out?” You finish, settling further into the seats.

“You know me so well.”

“Well I appreciate the sentiment,” you sigh, staring at the ceiling. “But I don’t need your help.”

The thud of metal on wood, Cid lowers his cup as he speaks. “If there’s anything you learn from this old sack of bones, it’s that life cannot be all work, you’ll send yourself into an early grave like that.”

He waves a young girl over, drops a couple Gil in her hands and has her return with a full cup of ale. He pushes the cup towards you expectantly.

“Drink, it’s on me. I can’t stand the sight of my right hand ready to keel over at a moment's notice.”

The amber liquid stares back at you accusatory. He’s right, you’ve been having trouble sleeping as of late, throwing yourself into training until your mind can no longer distract you and your body is forced to succumb to sleep. A symptom of your occupation, and based on the somber note in his tone, one he is all too familiar with.

Your fingers curl around the handle. “I didn’t know you paid that close attention to me.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

There’s a silent question hanging in the air, one you’d rather not acknowledge sober. Instead of answering, you put your lips to the cup and drink. The liquid burns on the way down, and you force yourself to swallow, the sound of his laughter ringing in your ears as you gag. “I take it you’re not a drinker then.” He chuckles, watching as you recover from the sharp taste. “And you’ve been drinking that all night?!” You exclaim, interrupting yourself with a cough. “It’s an acquired taste.”

(That same “acquired taste” left you dizzy after a pint, prompting Cid to carry you back to your chambers, much to your disdain. While the hangover was awful, the sight of Waloed’s Lord Commander working the stables was worth the pain.)

“Do you believe in fate?” You two were surrounded by miles of forest, the small campfire in front of you being your only source of light in the dark. A successfully completed mission meant that you two could afford to relax a bit after days of travel and battle, but it also meant you had to deal with the aftermath. It was a particularly hard mission as well, aches in places you weren’t even aware existed. Currently nursing a busted lip and several bruises that are sure to darken by dawn, your mood is less than friendly at the moment. “I swear Cid, if this is another one of your awful jokes I am not in the mood—” “It’s not like that, I’m serious,” He chuckles, repeating himself. “Do you believe in fate?” You look at him quizzically, eyebrows raised. “Surprisingly philosophical of you Cidolfus, what’s brought this on?” “Just answer the bloody question.” He sighs, slightly fed up. “Okay okay! No need to get your panties in a twist,” You sit up slightly, contemplating his question. “It’s tough to say, but I believe that your lot in life is practically impossible to change sometimes. I mean, think of the bearers who are born into a life of servitude just because they can use magic without crystals. Not exactly like they can change that.” He nods in agreement, taking a sip from his canteen. “Spoken like a scholar.” It’s quiet for a moment, and then he breaks the silence. “If that’s the case, do you believe our death is predetermined as well?” His words snap you out of your own thoughts. This is all rather unusual coming from a man who regularly takes life one day at a time. “I’m going to be honest with you Cid, this line of questioning is very concerning,” You say gently, eyeing him up and down. “Is everything alright?” He finds humor in your hesitant tone, but continues otherwise. “No, it’s not. Or rather, this world is not.”

You watch as he speaks, the somber look a far cry from his otherwise dauntless demeanor. “Thousands of men and women die, either on the battlefield or working themselves to death trying to better their lives, and in the end it means nothing.”

He raises his hand, the faintest crackle of electricity in the air making your hair stand on end. “Take me for example. A mercenary blessed by the Mothercrystals, the power of Ramuh at my fingertips and even still I’m a slave to the wheel of fate.”

The violet hue leaves his fingertips just as quickly as it came. “Such is life, I suppose. She’s a cruel mistress.” You don’t miss the creeping of white exposed under his jacket and it makes your heart clench, proof of his burden. “That she is, Cid, that she is.” “What if it didn’t have to be?” Now your attention is grabbed. “What are you trying to say?” “I’m saying,” he leans closer to you, whispering. “What if it didn’t have to be this way? A world where people could be free to die on their own terms, not for the wills of their masters but for themselves?” You have a feeling that you know what he’s implying, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions. “Exactly what do you have in mind, Cid?” A pause, almost like he’s trying to find the words, and then he speaks. “Changing the status quo. A revolution.” Your eyes widen and watch for any signs of jest. They widen further when you find none. “Titan’s tits,” You lean in, voice hushed. “You’re not joking, are you?” He takes another swig from his canteen. “As serious as the sky is blue.” Your eyes dart around, suddenly fearful of any possible prying eyes despite the fact you’re surrounded by nothing but grass and trees.

“What you’re talking about is a crime!” You hiss. “You’d be sent to the gallows for even mentioning the idea, are you insane?”

“Maybe,” he grins, the kind of smile you know is only followed by trouble. “But is it really crazy to want a better life?” “When it results in a one-way trip to the headsman, yes!” He leans back and fishes for a cigar, placing it between his lips and lighting it with a spark from his fingertips. “And yet, I still want to try. Who knows, maybe I am insane.” He finishes with a chuckle. There’s a stillness in the air, the quiet sounds of nature interrupted by Cid exhaling a puff of smoke. “The blight takes more and more of our land each day, thousands of bearers die simply because they were born different, and Dominants are used as weapons and discarded the moment they are no longer useful. Is this the world you want to live in?” Cidolfus is a smart man, an idealist in the best kind of way; The kind of way that could get him killed. He’s as stubborn as he is intelligent, and you can’t help but admire him for it. If it was anyone else you’d call them a hack, but it’s Cid, if there ever was a person who could change the world, it would be him. You reach out, placing your hand over his own, the smallest gesture of comfort. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? You’re going to leave.” It wasn’t a question. He nods in response. “I am.” Just thinking about it sends a jolt of despair through you. “If you do, you'll be hunted until the day you die. You’d be fighting for something that isn’t even guaranteed—” “And what’s the other option?” He interrupts. “Sitting and waiting for a peace that will never come?” He shakes his head defiantly. “I’ve seen what this world has to offer, and I’m tired of it. And if I have to give my life so that others can die for themselves, I’m willing to take that risk.” He says between another exhale. Your fingers rack through your hair, not quite able to process all that’s happened. “Who else knows about this little plan of yours?” The solemn look he gives tells you all. “Just you. I trust you, and I want you by my side.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen Cid this vulnerable, a man known to be the picture of confidence now sits before you uncertain. He waits for your response with baited breath. You’d be the first to admit that he’s right, about everything, but to become a deserter…it scares you. More than you care to admit. “Cid, this is far, far too much to ask of me,” You speak, voice wavering. “We’re friends unto the grave, but not if you’re purposely trying to dig it…”

That practiced cold exterior is crumbling, revealing the scared women you’ve tried to hide all these years. Cid can see the fear written on your face, and holds your hand in his, bringing it towards him. His touch brings you back to reality, but you can still feel your heart pounding in your chest. “I know that I’m asking a lot.” He runs a gloved thumb against your skin. “Know that if you decline I won’t think any less of you. But I’m hoping you’ll understand.” Your breath is stuck in your chest, caught between two choices. You could either report Cid, reveal his plans to the king and sentence him to a punishment you couldn’t even begin to imagine, or you could leave with him in search of that better life he dreamed of, assuming it does exist. That scared little girl, who spent days on the road with no one to help her and only the little coin in her pocket, who butchered men to fill her stomach, what would she have said? If she had the opportunity, would she have taken fate into her own hands? The answer was obvious, but it didn’t make it any easier to say. As your answer leaves your lips, his eyes light up with a joy you’re almost certain could put the Mothercrystals to shame. “Well, I did swear an oath to die by your side. I suppose this will do as well.”

By some bloody miracle it worked. Perhaps not as Cid said it would, but through no little effort you two officially became deserters of the Royal Waloeder Army.

You traveled by his side, freeing bearers across the far-flung corners of Valisthea. It was hard in the beginning, finding people to recruit to the cause. At first they were confused, mistaking you for bandits until you explained that you were, in fact, here to free them. Many thought Cid was a mad man, and to some extent you did too, but that didn’t stop him, if anything it only fueled his desire for success.

Every person freed was a step forward, no matter how small a step it may have been. One volunteer turned into two, which turned into four, and so on and so forth until you two had managed to garner yourself a small company of those you had helped one way or another. Some were bearers, and some just needed a fresh start, but all of them needed a home and that’s what you specialized in. Soon enough it became evident that a base of operations was needed. The location was Cid’s idea of course, right in the heart of the Deadlands, where no one would go searching for a couple of missing bearers. Inside a large fallen ruin was the beginnings of something grand, and as more and more of the exploited populated the area, the residents gave it a name; The Hideaway. A private sanctuary for bearers to live their lives as they see fit, and just like your old army days Cid led the charge, with you as his second-in-command. It wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t honest work, but it felt good. After every grueling rescue mission, when the stench of blood and dirt settled, you could watch the faces of the newly liberated light up with joy and it made your efforts worth it. And when you two were done, a drink would be shared in celebration of a job well done. The slam of your cup against the table is barely heard over the sounds of merriment in the bar, Martha works tirelessly behind the counter on everyone’s orders, the bar packed with old friends and new ones alike. You sit with Cid in one of the quieter corners of the tavern, swaying to the sounds of cheering and song. A familiar dizziness washes over you. “I think that’s enough for me tonight.” you say, placing your glass down.

He chuckles softly beside you, his cup nearly finished. “All these years and you still can’t hold your ale?” “As opposed to you,” You giggle, feeling just the slightest bit more bold. “You drink like a fish!” Not quite drunk, but not sober either. Your head feels just the slightest bit heavy and before you know it you’re fully slumped onto Cid’s shoulder. A dopey grin is painted on your face, either from the alcohol or being this close, you can’t quite tell. He smells of metal and smoke, a constant reminder of his vice. Gods, he’s so fucking warm.

“Enjoying yourself down there?” He teases. His arm snakes around your waist to keep you upright, your body lighting aflame with just a touch. “Mmmm,” you purr, pushing yourself further into his side. “Gimme a couple more minutes like this and I’ll tell you.” He laughs at that, amused at how completely relaxed you are. “You certainly look the part.” Everything is so nice, so freeing. Everything melts away until it’s just you and Cid, and nothing else. Cid finally places his glass to the table, eyeing you up and down for a moment. His gaze softens at your form, focused on you and you alone. You bite your lip, attempting and failing to suppress a smile. “What are you looking at?” He returns the gesture, giving you a pointed look. “I’m looking at you, dear.” The nickname never ceases to fluster you, but something about the way he says it now has you rooted in place, intimate in a way you haven’t heard from him before. You hope you’re blessed to hear it again.

Before you know it he’s holding your chin between two fingers, raising your head to look up at him. Were his eyes always this inviting? You can’t seem to pull yourself away. You’re not sure if you want to. His thumb brushes the skin of your cheek and you tilt your head into the gesture, as if to ask for more. He lets out a shaky breath in response. Leaning in, closer and closer. His lips look so nice. You wonder if they feel as good as they look. “You…” He whispers, closes his eyes before stopping whatever thought he had with a shake of his head. “You’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

As if awoken from a spell, your senses return to you. “‘M not drunk.” “A blind man could tell that you’re plastered.” He muses. “I’m a grown woman!” You whine in defiance. “Do I look like I need a bloody babysitter—!” Cid drops a bag of gil on the table and your view is suddenly much higher than before. On further inspection you’re in someone’s arms. Cid’s arms.

“You can get angry at me in the morning.” He grins, before stepping outside. Any protest you had dies on your tongue as he carries you out of the tavern and into the nearest inn.

It’s been a week since that night, and your mind still recalls how gently he raised you in his arms. Restless, you close your eyes at night and without fail, your thoughts wander to him.

Visions of skin on skin, hands touching where they shouldn’t, kisses that steal your breath and your sanity all at once—

You cannot live like this. It’s why you quickly left your room and made your way to the practice dummies as a hopeful distraction.

It helps a little bit, but just barely. The stone walls and empty air help clear your mind for a moment, until that peace is interrupted.

“Thought you kicked this bad habit ages ago.” You whip around, poised to strike. The motion is quickly stopped by a hand on your wrist, followed by another at your shoulder. “Calm down my dear, it’s just me.” A familiar deep voice rumbles beside your ear. “Surprised it took you this long to notice, getting sloppy are we?” You want to reply, but his chest against your back turns your tongue into lead. You tilt your head back to find Cid looking rather amused. “What are you doing here?” You muster, eyes locking onto him. He gives you a charming smile in return.

“Gav mentioned he heard someone in the training rooms, thought I would check it out.” He purrs beside you. “Didn’t expect to find you here though. Still having trouble sleeping?”

Your body relaxes, but Cid still holds you close. Uncertain if you should pull away, but he makes no move to do so and neither do you. “I thought everyone would be asleep by now…” You trail off, acutely aware of how his thumb rubs circles against the exposed skin of your shoulder. He shakes his head. “Couldn’t sleep either. Was hoping to tire myself out on the dummy, but since you’re here now…”

A devious grin stretches across his face. “Suppose you could help me?” You nod wordlessly, missing the heat of his body as he walks away from you. He gestures towards you. “After you, my dear.”

You hold your hands in front of you, rolling your eyes as you take a step forward. “Such a gentleman.” A subtle smile passes between you two and you begin, falling into a familiar rhythm. Foot forward, hands at your front, just like you were taught.

You two often sparred as part of your training, but there was something different this time, a lingering tension that filled the air.

Maybe it was the setting, closed off from the rest of the world, where it was just you and him in a confined space.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, your heart beating in time to the movement of your fists.

Maybe it was the flashbacks of your less-than-appropriate dreams that plagued you with each jab. Or maybe it was the way he stared at you like a beast with each move.

It’s all training of course but his hungry gaze, his jab at your awareness before, it all makes you feel like you’re back in that throne room again trying to prove your worth. As you dodge another blow his smile widens and in turn, so does yours, a dance of fists between two opponents.

Eventually you get the upper hand and wrestle him to the ground, your full body weight against his.

The image of Cid below you is alluring. Hair disheveled, chest heaving, docile beneath your own body as your hands pin him to the floor. “Who’s getting sloppy now? Perhaps your age is catching up to you.” You tease him.

“Ah, you never cease to amaze me.” He grins below you, not making any attempt to release himself from your hold. “Seems like you’ve defeated me this time.”

“Why doesn’t it feel like I did?” You huff in response. You can feel his wrists beneath your palm, relaxed and pliant. You give them a squeeze and his smile widens. “Who knows? Maybe I just wanted to look at you.”

You force yourself to ignore how deep his voice gets as he speaks.

Not one to back down from a challenge you reply. “Gaze as long as you wish, I don’t mind.”

A grunt, and suddenly your grip on his arms is pried apart. He surges forward, his newly freed arms snaking around your torso, bringing you even further onto his lap. The smile on his face is impish. “What was the first rule I ever taught you in battle?” “Never let your guard down.” You recite. But you always seem to do so around him.

He nods, pleased with your answer. “That’s twice now i’ve caught you by surprise tonight, mind telling me what’s gotten you so distracted as of late?” You do. You with your stupid jokes and pretty eyes and your smooth voice— “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He raises an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

You try to wiggle out of his hold with no avail. If anything the attempt only amuses him even further. He hums, his free arm tapping against his chin as if he’s thinking. “You won’t mind if I wager a guess, would you?” You’re already trapped, it’s not like you could stop him anyway. “Ask away.” “It wouldn’t happen to be about me, would it?” Oh, so this is what death feels like. Cid laughs upon witnessing your wide eyes, the sound echoing in your ears. “Well now, that seems to be one mystery solved.”

You want to deny it, but every attempt is met with only half-finished sentences and incoherent words. “I—I mean, that’s not exactly—”

He watches you from lidded eyes, a fond smile on his face. A finger against your lips silences you, trailing down, down, down, until you can feel his hand against the side of your neck, caressing. “You’re pretty when you’re embarrassed.” Your brain turns to mush. You turn your eyes away but his hand gently brings you back towards him, thumb reaching out to draw circles against your cheek.

“I never took you to be the shy kind,” he says, holding you in place. “Come now, look at me.”

You chance a glance at him, expecting some sort of mockery but you’re met with a gaze full of adoration.

“There she is,” he breathes. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t need to hide herself.” You lay your hands flat against his chest, his heart beating faintly underneath it. “Do you mean that?” A nod. “Every word.” There was a growing heat pooling inside you. “If this is some kind of joke—” “About you?” He says, leaning forward. “I’d never dare.”

The atmosphere suddenly intensifies, nearly suffocating. He looks at you with those moss green eyes and it all makes sense now. He planned this. This meeting was not an accident. You feel like an idiot.

“How long?” You ask, settling into his arms.

Chest to chest, you can feel the soft rumble of his voice move through you. He hesitates for a moment, staring at your lips before they return to your face. “I want to be modest, but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want you since the moment I saw you.”

He noses at your cheek, just barely brushing at your face. You chase the feeling of his stubble, closer and closer, the faint smell of nicotine filling your nose with each breath.

The tension that had once been playful had evolved into something undeniable, something that demanded exploration. Uncertainty crackles in the air, weighs heavy on your chest the longer the two of you wait.

An impasse. An invitation. You let out a shaky breath, unaware that you were holding it. “Fucking hell Cid—” “Gods,” He growls, hands splayed possessively against your back. “Say my name again, just like that—”

So you do, his eyes darkening when your hand rests on his exposed chest. You’re not quite sure who moved in first, but in that moment you found out what his lips felt like against yours and you wondered how you had lived with anything less up until that point. The unrestrained drag of his lips against your own remind you of the very same levin he commands on the battlefield; Calculated and forceful, unyielding in its ability to bring you apart. The glide of his hands at your sides serve to put you back together again with a practiced ease.

A rush of emotions grips you tight, taut. A sense of longing, followed by an increasing want, a need to be closer than you’ve ever been with another man. You feel yourself coming undone in his embrace, every touch leaving you aching for more, greed seeping from your very being. “Cid—” You beg, holding onto the front of his shirt like a lifeline. Any other time you’d laugh at yourself for your desperation but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. His timbre echoes between your bodies, breathless as he mumbles against you. “I know darling, I know,” He gasps, pushing you impossibly close, his lips buried against your neck. “But not here, you can make it back to my quarters can’t you?” You nearly tell him no, that you’ll die if you don’t feel his touch right this moment, but what little sense you have left lets you nod your head as he drags you back to his room hurriedly, neither of you giving care towards being subtle in the slightest. The moment you walk through the entrance of his bedchambers he doesn’t hesitate to press himself behind you, keeping you in place with a hand around your front. An airy laugh escapes you, his lips burning a trail against your exposed skin as he turns you around, pushing you against the nearest wall roughly. “What’s so funny?” He mumbles, slotting his pelvis against yours. His hands continue to explore your body excitedly, never stopping. “Liked you too, Cid—” A moan leaves your lips, hips grinding against each other. “Liked you, for a while—could’ve been doing this the whole time.” “I figured—thought you were too pretty for me,” He whispers against your lips. “Didn’t think you’d want someone like me—” You scoff. “Me? Too pretty for you?” Your hands cradle his face, foreheads touching. “You’re an idiot.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes full of tenderness. “I’m your idiot.”

It’s sweet, far too sweet for your current position. The words pierce your heart with striking accuracy. My idiot indeed. In this moment of serenity you stare up at him, doe-eyed, saccharine. “Do you want to know a secret?” His hands are firm against your hips, lightly squeezing. “By all means, do tell.” You gently turn his head, whispering coyly into his ear. “If you had asked, I would’ve let you fuck me the first day we met.” A range of emotions flash across his face. You think it’s the first time you’ve seen Cid so awestruck. It’s also the first time you’ve seen him so hungry. “By the Gods—” He growls, his hands moving again with renewed vigor. “You’ll kill me woman, you know that? Can’t tell me shit like that or I’ll go mad—”

You feel it, the shift in the air, the way Cid pulls you flush against him and grinds himself against your thigh, a promise of things to come.

“I mean it,” You gasp, tugging his shirt away from his body. “Would let you take me on his majesty’s throne if you wished it.” “Fucking hell woman—” Everything moves by in a blur, a mess of lost clothes and lost sanity. You’re not quite sure when you ended up on the bed, but far be it from you to complain.

He stands above you, a man possessed. You lie beneath him, equally as desperate. It’s unlike your years before, chancing glances at Cid during training in hopes he didn’t see. No, It’s here you can fully appreciate him in all his glory, a stature refined from years of combat, the occasional faded lines from various encounters that only enhance his natural beauty. Spots of white creep up his forearm, a sight he tries to hide behind his back before you grab his wrist, hold him there and watch his eyes soften when you trace invisible shapes into the marbled skin.

There’s a look shared between you and he understands, doesn’t resist when your fingers move higher until they meet the separation between skin and stone.

“Have I ever told you you’re beautiful?”

He chuckles at that, deep and whimsical. “You could stand to say it more.”

He sucks in a breath as your hands reach to trace his abs, the hard plane of muscles rippling under your touch.

He grabs your wandering hands, keeping it still as he speaks. “Why, see something you like?”

You nod, your nails lightly scratching at his skin to incite the most beautiful reaction from him, eyes fluttering shut. “I do.”

You ogle him shamelessly, as he does to you. You don’t miss how his eyes are glued to your legs. “Been waiting for this for a long time,” His palms gently run against your thighs. “Be good and let me see you.” Your legs open under his guidance, a sinful noise spilling from his lips. His eyes never leave your body for a second, as if memorizing every dip and fold before he comes closer, moves in until you can feel his breath fanning across your skin. You feel exposed under his gaze, moving to close your legs before a hand stops them, stern looking at you with disappointment. “No need to be shy, I’ll take good care of you.” A kiss to your inner thigh has you breathing just that bit heavier. “Let me do all the work, yeah? Just lay back and enjoy yourself.” He finishes with a wink before removing your underwear, fully exposing you to his watchful eyes. Laid bare, vulnerable, he groans at the sight of you spread open for him, and only him. Reverence in his embrace, he holds you firmly as he speaks, sings praise between your legs before he’s even had a taste.

“Better than I could have imagined,” He groans, hands splayed possessively on your legs. “Could stay here for the rest of my life, just like this—”

The bed dips under his weight, tracing his fingers everywhere except where you need them.

He takes his time, admiring the mess you’ve made of yourself with bated breath. Teeth nibble at the soft flesh of your thighs, your squirming body held in place as he leaves his mark upon them, gazing at the reddening skin in fondness before repeating the cycle all over again. He pays no heed to the slick that slowly flows from you, nor does he when you try to push him closer, begging for more. Your hand finds his dark locks, attempts to pull him closer only to be swatted away, a particularly harsh bite leaving you whimpering as he speaks.

“I know she’s needy, I know,” he coos, kissing away the pain before moving back to his torturous cycle. “I can see her twitch, just waiting for me to fuck her.”

Confusion, followed by a realization that sends you reeling when his hand splays right against your pubic bone. He’s talking to your pussy.

He doesn’t stop, a single finger reaching to play with the wetness that’s already leaking from your understimulated cunt. “Look at her, barely even touched and she’s crying out for me—“

He taps lightly at your mound, laughing as your hips rise involuntarily. You glare at him, a mix of frustration and want before he finally pulls you towards his face.

“Alright, enough of that,” he breathes. “Let me finally have a taste.”

Only when you’re fit to burst does he indulge you, placing his lips against your sex. Hot and wet, his tongue laps at you, your body relaxing into the sheets as he drinks from you like a man parched. The languid pace he takes feels like heaven, mind-numbing in all the best ways. Toes curl, your voice growing more and more high pitched as he works miracles between your legs, his own grunts joining in as he savors your taste.

“You look good like this,” he chokes, forcing his thick tongue into your weeping hole as you shake. “Taste even better.”

You bring your head from the sheets to look at him between your legs and the sight could’ve had you coming undone right then and there. Both thighs firmly in his grasp, Cid moves against your cunt with a practiced ease, making no attempt to hide just how much he’s enjoying your taste. Verdant eyes darkening, you watch as his thoughts seep out of him, filled with a drive to bring you to pleasure, instinctual and mindless, wanting nothing more than to witness you fall apart under him. Your lust-addled brain can barely decipher his muttered words, singing your praises against the warm embrace of your sex.

“So good, fucking delicious,” A hand presses below your stomach, keeping you still as his mouth moves faster and faster. “A meal all to myself—“

Your head falls against the sheets once more, arching into his touch, legs gaining that telltale tremble that signals your end. Without warning he stops, sits back on his haunches and before you can protest you’re pulled further down into the bed, legs dangling on his muscled shoulders. A noise of shock escapes you, followed by a high-pitched cry as Cid absolutely buries his face against your pussy, giving little care to the mess he makes against your thighs. You can feel him smiling as he does so, not looking away from your shaking form for a second.

Your fingers snake through his hair, tugging at the dark strands to bring him closer, an action he makes no attempt to stop. The drag of his stubble leaves your thighs raw, the slight burn both comforting and torturous as he sucks your clit.

The way he goes at you almost hurts, legs pushing away uselessly against the strength of a Dominant, a choked-off laugh escaping him before he returns to his ministrations. His name becomes a personal mantra, the only thing you can say when faced with such insurmountable bliss.

“Cid, Cid, Cid—“

“Mm, I know love, I know, fuck—“

He shushes you, soothes your aching pussy with a kiss, goes back to lapping at your heat and starts the cycle all over again.

The filthy sounds of his tongue against your slick fill the room, a long finger curling inside you, followed by another that makes your vision blur and your back arch. Ecstasy flows through your body, a sensation that has you falling apart, succumbing to Cid’s talented mouth. You can’t help the whines that leave you, nor can you stop your legs closing around his head.

He seems to enjoy it though, moving even more enthusiastically—as if the pressure encourages him. “Lemme hear you love—let me hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your orgasm ripples through you, leaving you limp against the sheets. He doesn’t stop the abuse for a second, wringing every last bit of pleasure he can greedily. Locked in a vicious cycle, every moan of his name forcing his fingers deeper and deeper until you’re forced to beg for a reprieve, whimpering for a mercy that doesn’t come. He laps at your wetness, only stopping when he’s satisfied you’re a trembling mess.

Dazed and lethargic, you mutter under your breath, trying to recover from the mind blowing orgasm you just had. You chance a glance between your shaking legs and there lies Cid, looking far too much like the cat that ate the cream.

Red faced and heaving, he wipes any remaining juices from his face, locking eyes with you as he licks your essence from his fingers. A growl escapes him as he messily laps at his fingers, taking no care in being civil. “Knew you’d taste heavenly dear.”

Words fail you, following the movement of his mouth as he finishes with a groan. He laughs at your reaction, a gravelly sort of noise before crawling on top of your weakened body.

Full of fire and passion, he attacks your senses, the taste of yourself on his tongue, the welcome feeling of his hands against your body, the drag of his clothed cock against your drenched pussy—

It’s too much, it’s all too fucking much, and you need more.

You separate yourself with a gasp, tugging at his underwear impatiently. “Off, now.”

He does so wordlessly, freeing himself. His cock stands at attention, twitching, waiting, flushed a pretty pink as he sits back and slaps it against your folds, a salacious grin at his lips. “This what you wanted, right?”

The words rattle in your head, every memory you have of Cid flashing before your eyes.

Your answer is hastily whispered between kiss-bruised lips—Yes, please—before Cid descends on you once again.

You pull him closer, a leg at his side as you grind yourself against his naked form, a shudder escaping the both of you when the head of his cock just barely catches at your entrance. The air rings heavy with anticipation but he still finds the time to hold you close, bite at the skin of your neck and hiss when your nails scratch at his back. “Impatient little thing aren’t you?” He huffs, but his hips move enthusiastically against yours, so close and yet so far. Your pathetic whines hit his ears, a sick satisfaction blooming in his chest when you pull him close.

“Cid, please, just fuck me already.” you mewl.

“I don’t know dear,” He pulls away to tease your entrance, the flared tip catching at your overstimulated clit in a way that makes your breath hitch. “You haven’t exactly shown me you deserve it.”

Another thrust of his hips and you swear you see stars.

He whispers against your skin. “Ask nicely and I’ll give you what you want.”

It’s painful how much he teases you, and yet you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop. “Please, Cid—“

Another sharp press of his cock against you. “You’ll have to try harder than that. Makes me think you don’t want it.”

You cry out in frustration. “I need you to fuck me, need you to fill me up, please—I fucking need you.“

He grins, satisfied with your answer. “There now, was that so hard?”

You move to reply but any thought you have is left unfinished when he finally gives you what you’ve been craving, that increasingly fullness that has your words die in your throat. Inch by tantalizing inch, he sheathes himself into your heat, grunting as he does so. When he bottoms out you cry, hands reaching to grab at his arms, his back, anywhere they can reach in hopes that it can somehow steady you from just how good he fucking feels. He responds in kind, head bowed, leaning on his forearms to cage you in and take your wandering hands in his own.

A moment passes, but it feels like eons. He looks at you like you’re the sun, as if your radiance threatens to consume his very being.

“You should see yourself right now,” He presses his lips against your neck. “It’s hard to keep myself in control when you feel this fucking good—”

As if on queue your pussy hugs him, the sensation of you squeezing around him forcing a moan to pass his lips.

You shake your head. “Don’t—wouldn’t want you to—” “Filthy mouth on you,” he grunts, kissing at your face, your lips, anywhere he can reach. Breathless, it becomes harder and harder to think as his hips shallowly press against yours, the slow drag of his cock driving you insane.

A cheeky smile graces your features. “Perhaps you should shut me up then—” You’re interrupted by a hard thrust, and whatever you were going to say next is replaced with a wail. “Not when you sound like that.” He growls.

Another hard thrust has you fully arched from the bed, followed by another, more and more. Cid holds your squirming body with both hands and with only a single nod as a warning, grips you firmly as he fucks you with abandon.

There is little restraint in his actions, brow furrowed together in concentration. He uses you like his personal toy, watches in delight as your face contorts with pleasure, encourages you further when your pussy leaves a ring of white around his cock.

“Shameless aren’t you?” He says, his own breathing ragged. “Look at you, spread open for me.”

You can only moan in response, far too lost in your own world to truly respond. Even thinking feels like too much effort.

A choked noise leaves him at the sight of your cock-drunk expression, nearly sending him over the edge. Your legs grow tired and fall to his hips, pulling him even closer as if on instinct, mindless ramblings of his name followed by pleas.

“More, more—“

“Greedy fuckin’ thing ain’t you?” He rasps, but your blissed out sight is enough to have him pressing you into the mattress until the bedframe begins to creak. He’s lost in the feeling of your slick walls hugging at his cock, the urge to possess you taking over. You’re breathless, unable to mutter a single word that isn’t his name or a broken attempt at speech.

You’re the first one to feel a jolt of euphoria, white-hot as it licks up your spine, followed by an uncontrollable quake in your thighs. Tears brim your eyes, unable to tell him but Cid knows, pressing his thumb against your hard nub.

“That’s it, there you go,” he hisses between clenched teeth, talking you through another earth-shattering orgasm. “Don’t hold back, show me how good it feels darling—“

You sob, coming for the second time that night. Your voice gets the highest it’s been, so engulfed in pleasure it blinds you. He fucks you through it all, you try to push away but he pulls your weakened body back towards him with a heavy hand.

“Oh no, you get back here, we’re not done.” He growls. Wrists captured, he continues his assault on your senses once more, this time with no chance of escape.

His own body shakes with the weight of exhaustion but he doesn’t, no, won’t acknowledge it. Not when you’re so pretty lying below him, not when your pussy is so inviting, stuffed so full that he can feel his outline when a hand reaches to press at your navel.

When your eyes glaze over he takes you by the chin, waking you from your lust-based stupor.

“Come on darling, keep those eyes on me,” he says, thrusting slowly into your warmth. You nod your head weakly, too gone to speak.

“That’s my girl,” he says, pausing to sit back on his haunches. He enjoys the sight of you limp before speaking again. “I’m gonna be a little rough darling, but you can take it can’t you?”

Your eyes rolling back, a chorus of no, I can’t spills from your lips before Cid takes your face with both hands.

“Yes you can,” he mumbles at your bruised lips. “I know you can take me pretty girl, I know it.”

He smoothes over your hair, kisses your tears away, gives you a moment of reprieve after what felt like hours.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he exhales, letting his thumb stroke your cheek ever so gently. “I’ll make you feel good, promise.”

You’re distracted by his gentle words, a noise of surprise escaping you when he begins to bear down on you, this time with more ferocity.

You’re both obscenely loud, neither of you giving a damn if you get complaints the next morning.

His hips slap against yours, the result of years of pent-up tension echoing off the walls. His lips attach to yours, swallowing every noise you make greedily, barely parting for air before assaulting them yet again.

His presence is suffocating, his entire weight forcing you further and further into the sheets. Your body aches with exhaustion, and even your voice has gone hoarse with how much you’ve sang his praise between the four walls of his bedchambers. Carnal, frantic you can feel the need in every movement, how his cock throbs inside you, the beginnings of another orgasm creeping up on you. You’re both shaky, head pressed into your shoulder whispering both filth and reverence under his breath.

“Gods, your pussy is divine—“

“I can’t believe I’ve gone this long without it—“

“Might have to fill you up and make you mine.”

That last sentence makes your toes curl, your cunt throbbing at the thought. An achingly slow grind of his hips, he slows down just enough to let you speak.

“That excited you huh?” He husks. “Want me to come in this pretty little pussy?”

Your answer is a moan, nodding your head as you hold the sheets between shaky fingers.

“Okay then, say it,” he murmurs into your skin, resuming his brutal pace. “Say you want me to come in you, say you want me to make a mess of you—“

Sweat drips from his brow. He’s so close you can see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his hips slowly stutter and start again, if only to draw your pleasure just that bit longer.

You stare back at him, voice quivering. “Yes, yes, please—come in me Cid.“

Your words give him the permission he needs, his body curling over yours. “Fuck, fucking hell—“ he cries your name, a searing warmth filling you as he cums, the action making your legs shake once again as another orgasm catches you by surprise.

He collapses at your side, exhaustion finally taking hold. You feel your legs shake once again, staring into his verdant green eyes. You can see the love that shines through them, and it’s evident that your bond is something beyond just physical, something that puts the word “love” to shame. He is yours, and you are his.

There’s a long stretch of time where it’s just you and him, basking in each other’s warmth. Chest to chest, skin sticky with sweat where you simply exist.

It’s calm. You could get used to this.

A breath escapes you with a smile. “This whole time.”

You feel Cid smile into your shoulder in turn. “This whole time.”

Another silence.

“Cid?” You ask.

He turns to look at you, a smile on his face. “Yes darling?”

“I can’t feel my fucking legs.”

His laughter is infectious, turning to watch as you give him a pointed look that eventually turns into your own giggle fit.

Cid attempts to sympathize with a half-hearted kiss to your shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I can’t feel mine either.”

[iliektehhaxs]

Please how much do I need to pay for u to write fanfic about ff16 cid jerking off to his s/o

Free.99

You’re a distraction, one that haunts him day and night. He almost wants to blame you, but he knows that it’s his own fault for being a lecherous old man. Wandering eyes that always make their way to you.

You’re the antithesis of him, soft where he isn’t, gentle when he’s not, refined and polished while his edges are sharp and jagged.

And that dress—gods, that fucking dress.

A single hand reaches down to stroke himself over his pants, his thoughts racing as he watches his hand move lower and lower. He should not be doing this, he wants to stop himself—but what he needs is relief, even if his mind is screaming at him.

Dirty old man, lusting after his own colleague; Nearly twice your age and left throbbing at just the sight of you.

“You’re supposed to be the mature one here Cid,” he says under his breath, hands still palming at his hardness. “You’re supposed to be the leader, and now look at you…”

He had to excuse himself when he saw your position—bent over, picking up god knows what but it was enough for his eyes to catch the smallest glimpse of your legs beneath, where it would normally be covered.

It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to make him swell in his leathers.

There’s a soft knock when his head falls against the wall, slowly relaxing as his hand strokes the outline of his cock. There’s still that small part of him, maybe he could call it a guilty conscience, telling him that he’s a dirty bastard for taking advantage, an angel on his shoulder telling him to stop right now, that he could simply take his hand away and stop—

But then the angel is reduced to silence, images of your legs peeking out from under your dress, how it hugs your curves down to the very centimeter, how it rides up when you bend over and he’s left staring at the tantalizing valley that is your thighs.

And god, how fucking beautiful they are, makes him want to grab a handful and squeeze, makes him want to lay claim to the plushness of them and leave his fingerprints as a reminder.

“Fuck,” he draws out, free hand running through his dark hair. He stares down at his erection, painfully straining against his pants and assesses the damage. He can feel himself throbbing, feel the heat pooling in his stomach the more he thinks about you. Your face, your body—gods, the journals he could fill just talking about your body.

His belt flies off with one hand, removing his pants as he’s left with the evidence of his infatuation. Standing at attention, the slightest breeze enough to have him biting at his lip. It’s almost embarrassing how hard he is for you, and he doesn’t even know what you feel like, taste like—gods, he knows you’d feel like fucking Heaven.

No, he doesn’t know, but he can imagine.

It may not have been intimate, but he’s held you, admired how soft your skin was, unlike his own. A contrast to the hard labor he’s done through his life, but you were so different, so innocent. When he sees you it makes him want to test how far that innocence goes.

His hand returns to his shaft, slowly stroking as he imagines what lies under that dress. Maybe you’d be embarrassed, but he’d be sure to comfort you, get you nice and ready before slipping his greedy hands underneath the fabric. Kiss you until you’re pliant in his arms, then let his wandering hands explore what has been hidden from him all this time. Would you squirm? Or would you relax under his touch, beg him for more?

“Please Cid, more…”

Gods, he feels himself get harder at the thought.

“You’re fuckin’ sick Cid,” he groans, bites at his palm to keep silent. “Woman works hard, and what do you do? Think about taking her against the nearest wall and making her cry your name, that’s fuckin’ what.”

He admonishes himself, but his hand doesn’t lose its pace. Up and down, up and down, the slick of his pre-cum feels sticky between his fingers, hips bucking when he plays with the tip and lets himself revel in his own self-gratification.

You’d be better, he thinks. Your hands are softer, more gentle, he’s held them once or twice when the two of you walked into town. Smaller too, untrained by the evils of this world. Dainty.

He imagines they’d tremble when you touch him, and his cock twitches.

His hand moves faster in response, eyes closed in bliss as he imagines it was you fisting his cock, stroking him to completion as you stare at him with those eyes he loves so much—so innocent-looking, even as he fucks your hands like it was your pussy.

His chest rises and falls, his hand grabbing at the sheets with each thrust. He’s completely forgotten about shame, his voice practically vibrating in his chest as he grunts your name like his own personal mantra.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moans, barely conscious enough to keep his voice to himself, although the longer he goes on the harder it is for him to keep under control. He’s so close and he’s barely started, thighs shaking, head lolling on his shoulders as his imagination takes over.

Fingers grasping at his hardness, eyes fixated on the liquid that beads at the lip. Your tongue peaks out between your lips to have a taste, and he feels his sanity snap in two.

“Come for me Cid.” You whisper, a facsimile of your real voice, but enough to have him jolt forward and chase his pleasure like a man starved.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he hisses, a rather loud noise leaving his throat as he releases onto his hand, his legs, the steady stream of cum leaking from his cock onto his stomach as he falls backwards onto the mattress, hips stuttering. He takes in a deep breath, one he didn’t know he needed until the fog of lust lifts from his mind and the only thing left is the remnants of his desire that drip from his fingertips.

A lopsided smile stretches at his face at the sight, followed by a groan of dismay when he realizes just what he’s done.

“Fucking hells…”

[iliektehhaxs]

If you are still taking requests for FFXVI stories, could I request one of Cid in Waloed with one of the ladies of the court there? ; v ; <3 You're free to characterize her as you wish, tho I am partial to him being a loveable rogue and she's much more prim and proper. QvQ Thank youuuuuuuu

Hey anon, I'm a chronic overwriter. I could've had this done within an hour, but guess what? I have no self control. I loved the idea so much that, well, I made this. Pairing: Cidolfus Telamon/Reader (female pronouns) Word count: 2.4k Rating: 18+ Warnings: fingering, cunnilingus

Cidolfus Telamon, Lord Commander of Waloed; A man far beyond your reach, and yet he still admires you from across the hall.

His eyes burn a hole into you from across the room. Dark clothes and even darker hair, he watches, a coy smile stretched across his face as you tend to your mistress’ needs. 

You want to look, but you don’t. You force your eyes forward instead. It would be inappropriate for a lady to lust after a man such as him. 

But then again, your thoughts of him are anything but appropriate.

“Your mind is far away,” your mother admonishes. “I can see it in your eyes.” You bow, mumble an apology as she walks away. You follow faithfully, and know in your heart that as you leave, his eyes follow you with every step.

“What is your name, my lady?” he asks, a rare moment where your mother is nowhere to be found.

The thought of silence crosses your mind, perhaps if you ignore these feelings, ignore him, then maybe he would no longer haunt your mind. A single look at his charming face tells you no, that he would still find a way.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it back, grins through each syllable.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Your face heats up, and you turn to watch the flowers sway in the breeze.

He chuckles softly at that. “You’re even prettier when you’re shy.”

You turn back to him, not quite sure what to say at that. “Thank you, Lord Commander.” A shake of his head, flashing you an almost boyish grin. “Only my men call me that. I would much rather you call me Cid.” Cid. It’s informal, personal. You move to argue, but a hand at your shoulder stops you.

He leans in and your eyes dart around nervously. You’re in the garden, anyone could see the two of you, if the mistress knew-

His fingers squeeze at your shoulder, and your mind is silenced. For a moment, it’s just the two of you.

His voice cuts through the silence, deep, heady. “I insist, my lady.”

You nod wordlessly, and he moves away, satisfied. “Good. I think we’ll get along just fine.”

A final pat and he leaves you to your flowers. A part of you wishes he didn’t.

When you return to your chambers and find a bouquet of flowers, the same ones from the garden, you’re quick to stash them away. When your mother returns and asks about them you lie and say a suitor sent them to her, but you know the truth.

Your feet move with a practiced ease to the sound of music.

One step, then another, co-ordinated. You move across the floor gracefully, your mistress’ instruction in the back of your mind.

Back straight, arms extended, chest forward. Keep your head high, be confident.

Hand in hand, you move in tandem with another nobleman, absentminded. It’s for formality more than anything, but it doesn’t mean it’s not important.

Back and forth, side by side. It’s stiff, formal, businesslike. He speaks, something about his fortune or his estate, you’re not quite sure. After enough Gala’s they all sound the same, and it wouldn’t matter anyway, since your mind is occupied by another. Boredom possesses your very being. A bow, and the dance is finished, the nobleman leaving to dance with one of many fair ladies in the room. You bow in turn, and sigh internally. Remember, you are a lady. Behave as how ladies should behave.

You watch him walk away, and for a while it’s peaceful. Stood by the way, you wait with the other women hoping to catch the eye of a fine gentleman. They gossip among each other, idle chatter of whatever bachelor of the day has caught their eye. You half-heartedly reply, not truly paying attention until a hushed whisper moves through the crowd, everyone looking at the entrance.

You turn, and your eyes widen.

Stood by the doorway is none other than Cid. His head on a swivel, he searches the crowd for something, the crowd slowly moving aside for him with each step. 

His verdant eyes catch your own, mischief on his face. A quick stride, the ocean of people parting for him, and he stops in front of you, watching you up and down.

You forget yourself for a moment, speaking without a thought. “You’re not supposed to be here.” “Am I not?” He smirks, adjusting his tunic. 

The motion brings your eyes to his exposed chest before you correct yourself. “I didn’t-” You pause, considering your words carefully. “Why have you graced us with your presence, Lord Commander?” He tilts his head, looks at the crowd of people that watch you two, and grins. “I came to see you.” You can hear several women gasp behind you.

“Me, sir?” You question. 

A nod of his head. “Yes, you.” “Have I offended you in some way?” “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.” He says upbeat. Everyone is listening in at this point, and there is a visible change in atmosphere when he holds your hand between his leather-clad fingers.

Back bent, he bows before you. “May I have this dance?” Your heart stops for a moment, unable to believe anything that has happened in the last minute. You ask, meekly, “I beg your pardon, sir?” “Oh, did I say it wrong?” He looks up at you, curious. “I would very much like to share a dance.” It’s hard enough to believe, much less see. Even as his thumb rubs against your skin you have trouble believing it yourself.

“Y-Yes.” You answer, stammering before remembering your mistress’s training. “Yes, I should like to have this dance.” “Wonderful then,” He pulls you closer, whispering into your ear when your hands hold his own. “Be gentle with me now, I’m out of practice.” A wink, and your knees nearly buckle.

He moves not with practice but with confidence, unlike you, who’s been taught a routine from the day you were born. Dancing with Cid is unlike anything you’ve done. It’s as if he moves with you, not alongside you.

The crowd has fully separated for the two of you, everyone halting their own dances to watch the Lord Commander waltz with a lady-in-waiting.

They chatter away and you hear not a single word, too lost in the feeling of him. 

“We seem to be drawing quite the attention dear,” he speaks lowly.

You bite back a laugh, whispering in turn. “That tends to happen when you interrupt a formal event.”

“Interrupt?” He says confused. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding.“

A spin, and you’re pulled right back to him, far too close to be anything but intimate. His breath fans against your face, eyes falling to your lips, and back to your eyes.

“I’m not interrupting, I’m courting you.”

The words rattle in your brain. You understand what he says, but you don’t, not in the slightest. Amusement is written on his face, just as disbelief is written on yours.

“That’s—that’s impossible.”

“Is it?” He chuckles, moves your body against his own. “I’m doing it right now, I would say it’s pretty possible.”

“You’re second in command to the king!” You whisper through your teeth. “You have your choice of any woman in the land!”

“I do. And I choose you.”

The song ends, but he still holds you close. This kind of embrace is improper, but he couldn’t care less.

Slowly, he lets you go, but not before leaving you with a final message.

“I hope we can do this again.”

Your mother is a cruel woman, sharp gaze and an even sharper tongue. Word has reached her ears of what happened, and she is less than pleased.

You feel the anger before you enter the room, and when you do her brow is already furrowed.

“The Lord Commander?” She scoffs. “A mercenary, only afforded a position in the castle due to his Eikon.”

She spits venom, tongue lashing. “You would do well to ignore his advances. A nobleman is much better suited for a lady of your ranking.”

“Of course ma’am.” You nod, apologize, anything to placate her. You know she speaks the truth but a nobleman is not what you want. What you want is far more untamed than any nobleman could provide.

As punishment you are to stay in your room. This doesn’t deter Cid, if anything it only spurs him further. A flower sent to your door, then two, then a whole bouquet. A comb, modest but still decorated finely. A bracelet, with a note attached. You smile when you read the reason behind the purchase; it reminded him of your eyes.

He sends more gifts, and you deny them all. Boxes of chocolate, flowers, even a dress. That one hurt to turn away, the fabric attractive and soft against your hands, but your mothers orders were clear. 

Still, he doesn’t stop. He sends more to replace them, and when your mother isn’t looking, you chance a taste of the chocolates he’s sent you now, delighting in the sweet taste before noticing a note hidden beneath the lid.

Meet me at the castle rooftop tonight, at midnight.

You shouldn’t. But your heart tugs at the sight of it, your fingers snatch the small piece of paper before throwing the box in the trash, rubbing circles against it as you go about your day. It feels heavy in your hand, a reminder.

The sun hangs low in the sky, shades of gold and red that fall into darkness. You tug at your nightgown, slip into your shoes and leave once your mother is fast asleep.

You shouldn’t. But you do anyway.

Just as he said he would, he stands on the roof, waiting. He notices you before you speak, voice calling out in the darkness.

“You’re here.”

“I am…” you say. “How did you know I would come?”

He strokes his chin in thought. “I didn’t, the same way I didn’t know you would dance with me.”

He tilts his head, and smiles. “I tend to take gambles like this often.”

“But I denied every one of your gifts…”

“You did, but a gift means nothing.”

He walks towards you and you don’t move. “You danced with this old sack of bones, and that means more to me than any gift.”

“Unless you mean to reject me in person,” he sighs dramatically, hand over his heart in a pious gesture. “Then you’d really break this old man's heart.”

He says it with a smile, but there’s still a lingering emotion in his eyes. Doubt?

It’s gone the moment you shake your head. “My mother does not want us to be together.”

“And what do you want?”

The question throws you for a loop, eyebrows raising. “No one’s ever bothered to ask.”

“That’s a damn shame now, isn’t it?” He clicks his tongue. “But that’s what I’m here for.”

He repeats himself, his hand reaching to hold your face. “What do you want, my lady?”

A bird in a gilded cage, and the man offering her freedom. He makes you feel seen, for the first time in your life. 

You nod, wordless, the smell of tobacco and leather overtaking your senses. “I want you.”

His eyes light up, and he meets you in a scalding kiss, cradling your head between his hands. 

He sneaks into your room when no one notices, hushes your protests with a press of his lips.

“What if the guards catch you?” you sigh. He laughs at the notion, moves you with him as he caresses you. “Then we’ll have to give them a show, won't we?” “Cid!” 

He expects the swat to his chest, but it doesn’t make his statement any less true. He could not give a damn if he was caught, because any punishment is worth seeing you.

The bed sinks with your combined weight, his legs straddling your own. You bite your lip at the view, his eyes darkening as they pass over your form.

“You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?”

He’s teasing you, and you know it. You don’t need to answer, he can see how desperate you are, he just wants to hear you say it.

“You’re incorrigible,” you whisper. 

Your skirt is hiked up, exposing your underwear. Without warning his fingers trace against your clothes heat, a wicked look on his face as his fingertips find your wetness staining the fabric.

“Evidently, you love it.” he muses, your hips rising as he rubs circles against your pussy. Slow, sensual, he makes no move to give you more.

He looks at you, waiting. “Come now, don’t be shy.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly he can take control over you, and how easily you let him. 

A low whine, your hand holding his wrist. “Please.” His fingers press harder, but it’s not enough. “I don’t know darling, you’re not very convincing.” A sharp intake of air, and then you moan for him. “Please, Cid.” In a flash your underwear is pulled down your legs, a single finger entering you as you gasp. 

He visibly shudders at the sigh, kissing you as his finger moves inside you. Your lips part for him gratefully, his tongue moving against your own.

There’s a faint squelch, the sound of your wetness as he pumps in and out. He adds another finger and you moan into his mouth. 

Faster and faster, they move inside you. Your hands hold onto his jacket, closing your eyes and surrendering yourself to his deft fingers. When he finds that spongy part you cry out, bring your hand to your mouth as he watches your juices run down his hand.

“Keep going, that’s it,” He murmurs into your neck, kissing the expanse of skin offered. “I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t stop, not until he’s certain he’s wrung out every drop of pleasure from your body. His thumb meets your clit and you keen for him, his name leaving your lips helplessly.

You look so sweet, so depraved for him. Anyone would have a hard time believing you were a noblewoman, not with the way you beg for him, tears rimming your eyes. You tremble against his hand as you come and the image nearly drives him mad.

He pulls his fingers free, spreads your cunt with two fingers and watches mesmerized as the mess you’ve made. So tantalizing, a single finger gathering your essence. 

He decides then and there that he can’t help himself, lowering himself to press a sloppy kiss against your cunt. You plead for him, a moment of reprieve, but he just can’t stop himself.

“One more time darling,” he grunts between your legs, holding them down in a strong grip. “One more time, promise—”

In a way, he got his wish. This is a dance, just not the kind you perform in front of others.

[iliektehhaxs]

husband cid is the type to try and imitate those like. “plumber fixing the pipe but oh noooo you don’t have any money to pay him…” sex roleplays

u find him cranking away at the sink which you KNOW works fine and he’s going all “well lass that’s all sorted [random science garble to make it seem convincing] i’ll be on my way once you pass me this check aye” and staring u dead in the eyes until you go “oh…… cheque…….. about that”

he’s sexy enough and loved enough to play along. probably doing the “plumbing” shirtless (taxing physical labour he says. no need to get a shirt all sweaty)

Me personally I am a blue collar worker Cidolfus truther you can’t convince me otherwise. The man was meant to get down and dirty, literally and metaphorically, but that’s for another day

I’m imagining Cid, maybe in one of those tight white wife beaters, maybe even shirtless, but all you can see of him underneath the sink is his jean clad legs and the tail end of his happy trail. The dark colored hair draws your eyes more than anything, leading down where his legs are propped up against the floor, his hips occasionally shifting as he works away at the sink.

The little movements are like your own personal siren call, so distracted that you barely register his muffled voice.

“Jobs done,” he says, crawling out from the floor with a grunt. “Couple o’ rusted pipes, whoever’s the bastard that maintains your place clearly didn’t give a damn about his job, else your plumbing wouldn’t be cracked to hell and back.”

“Plumbing?”

He nods. “Yeah, your leaky sink’s fixed. Now, as for the payment…”

It’s with his wandering eyes that you now realize his game, a smiling quickly spreading across your face. “Oh, yes, your payment, about that…”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t got the money,” he tuts, leaning onto the counter with one hand. “Can’t exactly get paid with air, darling.”

You try your best to act bashful, fiddling with your clothes as Cid watches you intently. “I’m short on cash, couldn’t you overlook this? Just this once?”

“Afraid I can’t,” he says, getting closer with each step. “Not exactly fair to me, doing unpaid labor, now is it?”

You shake your head. “No sir, it’s not.”

His smile gets wider at the nickname.

“Might be a thief, but at least you’ve got manners.” He muses. “Tell you what, you’ve caught me in a good mood today so I’ll make you a deal.”

It’s now he towers over you, a single finger reaching up to tuck your hair away from your face.

“You’re cute enough—surely you can find other means to pay me, can’t you?”

The sounds that leave your mouth are loud, sloppy. Between Cid and you, you’re not sure who’s louder.

“Tight fuckin’ throat, makes me think you were just waiting for me to fuck it,” he groans, holding your head by the hair. “Tell me, did you actually forget your money or did you want an excuse to be used like my personal toy?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted, your mouth occupied with the taste of his salty flesh. Over and over you gag around his length, and over and over you bring your head forward to beg for more.

Roleplay aside, he loves you like this—when your eyes glaze over and you let him freely use you as he sees fit. He sees it as a sign of trust, how safe you feel with him directly correlating to how far he can stuff himself into your mouth.

[inkyclive]

some more thoughts for science and funsies

do you think cid is open to sharing? not to just like anyone, more specifically gav?

gav who always watches over the princess when he’s gone? gav who always has his baby girl’s interests at heart?

surely that’s worth a reward right? at the very least a show. and if cid is feeling super generous maybe gav even earned a few participation points ??? 🥹🐥

YES, 100%!!!! i can see cid sharing with gav, especially since they’re close and he trusts him, he knows gav does everything he possibly can, everything in his power, to keep his lil princess safe when cid’s away, and cid greatly appreciates that. it enables him to leave her with minimal anxiety because he knows she’s going to be well looked after + taken care of, even if gav does spoil her a little too much, and cid comes home to a baby that’s extra bratty, extra entitled, extra clingy <3 (not that he necessarily minds, of course)

honestly, cid doesn’t strike me to be someone who is extremely selfish or possessive. i think he’s extremely protective, so like you said he wouldn’t share with just anyone, but people he believes genuinely have your best interests at heart, and people he himself loves and trusts, are okay in his book. if they’ve earned it, if he thinks they’re deserving of it, then yeah he’s up to sharing! i could also see him sharing with clive!!! lately i have this idea bouncing around in my lil head of reader/you/us being her bratty, slutty, needy self and being extremely playful and teasing with clive, especially when he’s v new to the hideaway c: just flustering him, ‘accidentally’ flashing him her pretty panties or putting a dainty palm a little too high on his thigh to be appropriate, generally seeing how far she can push until he breaks—gets mad or gives in, not knowing is half the fun!—and then getting to make it up to him (or get punished! by him or cid or both <3).

cid thinks it’s pretty cute, thinks it’s pretty amusing, can’t help but chuckle to himself with a fond shake of his head when he sees her bending over in front of clive or touching him or batting pretty lashes at him as she says something borderline indecent and giggles at the way he chokes on his words or sputters and gargles his drink or growls about how she’s being inappropriate and she should stop this instant <3 cid’s pretty curious to see just how far she can push, too, and how clive will react when he finally snaps and loses it. will he take matters into his own hands immediately, grabbing lil princess’s wrists in a single large palm and shoving her against the wall and snarling at her to cut it out already? will he give into all of her teasing because he just can’t take it anymore, bending her over the nearest surface in a thick lust-and-anger induced haze and pounding the life out of her without thinking twice about it? will he come to cid with shame in his eyes and remorse in his voice and express that he doesn’t know what to do or how to handle this, worried cid might get angry at him, or her, or both? it’s a game to them both <3

[iliektehhaxs]

Okay but hear me out. After he makes you bite his glove off and keep it in your teeth. His other hand with the glove still on, gets to give you that bite of sensation of cooler leather on your bare skin. (Def related to your recent post. Def maybe related to my own cooking over here. Maybe I gave you a brain worm, maybe it's Maybelline.)

Anon no because you get me and our brainworms are communicating rn because you’re so right lemme paint a picture rq

He’s got that self-assured grin, he always does, but moreso now that you’re kneeling between his legs. Your head in his lap, his fingers find a home in your hair, gently pulling at the strands until you’re forced to look up at him with those pretty little doe eyes he loves so much.

His free hand reaches up to glide against your cheek, the cool leather a contrast to the trail of fire he leaves in his wake. His thumb traces at your bottom lip and they part without him needing to ask.

His leather-clad fingers play with your tongue, heavy and lethargic, watches enamored at your jaw goes slack and your eyes slowly gloss over, wanting to bring his digits closer into your mouth but he holds you still, keeps you where he wants you. Your muffled noises only serve to harden his cock and he knows you can see it when your eyes follow the line of his bulge and you whine.

You stay like that for a while, with Cid watching you from above. You get used to the taste of leather, slowly going dumb and he hasn’t even touched you yet. Only when his glove is slick with your saliva does he indulge, smudging your glossy lips further when he commands you.

“Bite.”

[iliektehhaxs]

Came across your writings for the FFXVI boys and can I just gush how much I love your hcs of them for your NSFW Alphabet work specifically. So may I request for an expanded HC of the boys (either Cid or Joshua) being munches? Do they go pussy crazy with just the sight of their lover after being out for a long mission? Do they desire to drink up their juices after their lover has been yearning for them? Do they casually eat pussy as if it were another meal added to their day?

Anyways all that to say that I fell in love with your writing and can't wait to see more whether it's for FFXVI or any other fandom but your NSFW Alphabet specifically activated my neurons

Oh lovely anon, they’re two sides of the same coin! These two men are munches of the highest caliber, but where they differ is how they see the act itself.

Both men easily get drunk off your taste, and both men would gladly suffocate themselves against your mound if it meant they could wring another orgasm from you.

Joshua The man is devoted to you without a doubt, and him burying his face between your thighs is an expression of that devotion. He doesn’t feel good unless you feel good.

He’s a firm believer in overstimulation, he gets so lost in the feeling of you it's almost hard for him to stop once he gets going. Your thighs shake, it feels hard to breathe and Joshua's mouth still moves voraciously against your cunt. He's already came just from your taste alone, already working himself up again while you try to tell him you can't come again, but he's just not listening anymore. As far as he's concerned, you're finished when he says you're finished. Cid

Cid meanwhile, is all about pleasure. He shows his love by showing you just how talented his mouth is, and how good he can make you feel. He's much more of a tease, he wants to hear you cry for him, beg him for more, it feeds his ego like nothing else to know that he’s the only man in Valisthea that can have you like this, shaking and whimpering. And once he’s certain you’re at your peak he’ll suck your clit into his mouth, force your hips down and watch between lidded eyes as you scream his name into the very heavens. And honestly? He might just keep going.

[pinkkittysaw]

MASTERLIST

dividers by @/cafekitsune

all fics are tagged with #✰ミ angel writes & all blurbs are tagged as #blurbs

reblogs on my fics are heavily appreciated! :)

FULL FICS

✰ミ FINAL FANTASY XVI

❀ CLIVE ROSFIELD

• MUTLIPLE CHARACTERS

༻ in the crooks of your body, i find my religion ༺

cidolfus telamon x priestess reader x clive rosfield

summary: long time “companion” cid and his newest recruit clive seek refuge in your church as their search for the second fire eikon continues

tags: (18+), smut, blasphemy, hierophilia, sex in a church, dom/sub dynamics, breast/nipple play, oral (m! receiving) foreskin play, virginity loss (clive), creampie, minor brat taming, degradation, spit, spanking, notes of humiliation kink & exhibitionism, praise, petnames (angel)

✰ミ FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S

༻ thanksgiving ༺ | featuring: mike schmidt x gn! reader

summary: you save the holiday with some chinese food

tags: fluff, established relationship, reader is celebrating american thanksgiving

༻ five nights at mike’s ༺

featuring: mike schmidt x plus sized! female reader

summary: you spend the night at your boyfriend’s place

tags: (18+), established relationship, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), minor pussyjob, breast/nipple play, protected sex (use of condom), intimacy kink, both reader and mike have pubes

✰ミ SAW (2004)

༻ i don’t smoke ༺ | adam stanheight x gn! reader

summary: you reconnect with adam in the only way you know how

tags: angst, grief and smoking

BLURBS

✰ミ FINAL FANTASY XVI

❀ torgal being protective over you during pregnancy

tags: pregnancy mention

❀ ass play with clive (m & f receiving)

✰ミ FINAL FANTASY XV

❀ pussy inspection with older noctis (18+)

✰ミ CHAINSAW MAN

༻ i wish i knew you wanted me ༺ | aki hayakawa x gn! reader

tags: angst, comparing yourself to makima

❀ aki angst

tags: pregnancy mention

HEADCANONS

✰ミ JUJUTSU KAISEN

❀ satoru gojo

✰ミ FINAL FANTASY XVI

❀ clive rosfield

EVENTS

✰ミ KINKTOBER 2023