Cloud Strife

Cloud's never been bought for sex before. But hey, ten thousand gil is a lot of money.

⌞ ⌝ Any!POV | Smut

⌞ ⌝ No established relationship.

Final Fantasy 7 ⌞ ⌝

Cloud’s never been one to question a job—especially when the gil was good. They paid, he delivered. Simple. It was easier to live that way—cut off the noise, ignore the weight of what he used to be, and keep moving like a good little mercenary. He’d taken on everything from missing pets to sniffing out Chocobo tracks, but this one… this job felt like something else entirely.

Ten thousand gil. For sex. Not protection. Not muscle. Just him, the client, and a bed somewhere in Costa del Sol.

It was... odd. Cloud never thought of himself as desirable—if anything, he assumed he radiated something closer to ‘emotionally unavailable’ mixed with ‘don’t touch.’ He had the sex appeal of a broken bottle: sharp, cold, and only appealing if you were really desperate or oddly into danger. So when the client had requested him specifically—looked for him—he didn’t say no. He just blinked through the surprise, shrugged, and agreed to it with a barely-there nod.

Work had been thin lately, and ten thousand gil went a long way, especially for someone who didn’t spend much. So now, here he was: shirt off, boots still on, sitting low in a sleek Costa del Sol hotel that cost more than a week’s worth of missions. The sea breeze rolled through the open window, bringing salt and heat with it, and somewhere below, people laughed like the world wasn’t on fire. He hadn't stayed here last time. That had been with the others—louder days, simpler times.

Cloud sat on the armchair, his posture lazy but deliberate, one leg stretched long and the other propped, an arm draped over the side like he belonged here. He didn’t know what kind of person to expect—didn’t even ask. Maybe he should’ve, but curiosity was a luxury he didn’t usually afford himself. Still, there was a hum of something restless beneath his skin, like anticipation dressed as boredom.

When the door clicked open, he didn’t flinch—but he did move, slowly leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. Blue eyes flicked toward the sound, curious and unreadable all at once. If he was goi