Tifa Lockhart | Final Fantasy - Gallery

The late afternoon sun, filtering through the stained-glass windows of the Seventh Heaven, cast a warm, amber glow across the worn wooden bar. Tifa Lockhart, her usually vibrant spirit softened by a day of quiet contemplation, polished a glass with a slow, deliberate motion. The clinking sound was a gentle counterpoint to the murmur of the few patrons scattered around the bar. She sighed, her gaze drifting to the framed photograph on the wall – a faded image of her and Cloud, their smiles a bittersweet reminder of a time that felt both impossibly distant and achingly present. A knot of longing, a familiar companion, tightened in her chest. She missed him terribly, the easy camaraderie, the unspoken understanding, the electric spark that always seemed to fly between them, even in the most ordinary moments.

Her fingers, calloused from years of hard work and even harder battles, traced the cool rim of the glass. The familiar scent of ale and sawdust usually soothed her, but today, it only amplified a growing restlessness. She longed for something more, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, a desire she’d tried to keep tucked away, out of sight, out of mind. But the solitude of the bar, the lingering scent of his presence in the air, the very emptiness beside her, was stirring it awake. She imagined his strong hands, his rough stubble against her skin, the deep rumble of his voice. A faint blush bloomed on her cheeks, and she quickly turned away from the bar, busying herself with restocking the shelves, her movements a little too quick, a little too clumsy.

Later that evening, the Seventh Heaven was quieter still. The last of the patrons had drifted away, leaving Tifa to the solitude of closing up. She walked through the empty tables, her footsteps echoing softly. The air was thick with the day’s lingering warmth, and a gentle breeze rustled the curtains. As she reached for the ‘Closed’ sign, the bell above the door jingled, a sharp, unexpected sound. Her heart leaped. She turned, a hopeful smile already on her lips, her breath catching as she saw him standing there. Cloud. His familiar spiky blonde hair was slightly disheveled, his blue eyes, usually so guarded, held a flicker of something she couldn’t quite decipher – a question, perhaps, or a hesitant hope.

“Tifa,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. “I… I didn’t know if you’d still be open.”

“Cloud!” Her voice, usually so steady, wavered slightly. She stepped forward, the distance between them suddenly feeling immense. “What are you doing here?” She tried to keep her tone light, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. Her gaze lingered on his face, on the familiar lines etched around his eyes, the subtle tension in his jaw. He looked tired, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made her pulse quicken.

“I was… passing through,” he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers. He shifted his weight, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. “Thought I’d see if you were… alright.”

“I’m alright,” she assured him, stepping aside to let him in. The scent of him, a mix of ozone and something uniquely his own, filled the small space, and her senses reeled. “Come in. It’s late, but I can make you something.” Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts tumbling over each other. Was he really just passing through? Or was there something more in his eyes, something that mirrored the longing she felt so acutely?

He stepped inside, and the door swung shut behind him, sealing them in their own private world. The air in the bar suddenly felt charged, heavy with unspoken words and lingering desires. Tifa moved behind the bar, her hands a little shaky as she poured him a drink. She watched him from the corner of her eye, his movements deliberate, almost hesitant, as he sat on one of the stools. The simple act of him being here, so close, was almost too much to bear. She felt a dizzying mix of relief and anticipation. She wanted to ask him so many things, to find out where he’d been, what he’d been doing, but the words seemed to get caught in her throat. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, her gaze flickering to his lips, the strong line of his jaw, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

“So,” she began, her voice softer than intended, “you’re just… passing through Midgar?”

Cloud took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes finally meeting hers. There was a depth in them, a vulnerability she rarely saw. “For now,” he admitted, his gaze holding hers. “Things are… complicated.” He paused, and then, as if making a decision, he set his glass down. “But I wanted to see you, Tifa. I needed to see you.”

Her heart gave a lurch. The unspoken words hung in the air between them, shimmering with possibility. She leaned against the counter, her hands clasped in front of her, her knuckles white. “Cloud…” she breathed, the single word a confession, a question, a plea. The romantic tension in the air had reached a fever pitch, a tangible thing that hummed between them, a prelude to something much more intense. She found herself imagining the feel of his lips on hers, the press of his body against hers, the way his hands would explore her curves, his touch both tender and demanding.

He stood up, his movements fluid and purposeful, and walked around the bar, stopping just a few feet away from her. The faint scent of his skin, the warmth emanating from him, was intoxicating. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. His touch was electric, sending tremors through her entire body. Her breath hitched in her throat. “Tifa,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve thought about you… so much.”

She could feel her cheeks flushing, her body responding to his proximity. The desire that had been simmering within her for so long was now a roaring inferno, threatening to consume her. She met his gaze, her own eyes wide with a mixture of longing and vulnerability. “Cloud, I…” she started, but the words died on her lips as he leaned in, his eyes never leaving hers. His lips brushed against hers, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of pure sensation through her. It was tentative, a question, a seeking. Her lips parted almost instinctively, inviting him closer. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate at first, a gentle exploration, a reaffirmation of their shared past and the unspoken feelings that had always bound them.

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. She could feel the strength of him, the solidness of his chest against her own. Her hands instinctively went to his shoulders, her fingers sinking into the fabric of his shirt. The kiss became more urgent, more passionate, a torrent of pent-up emotions finally unleashed. His tongue met hers, a silken dance that spoke of years of longing and unspoken affection. She moaned softly, a sound of pure pleasure, and pressed herself closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against her. The scent of him, the taste of him, was overwhelming, and she found herself clinging to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

He broke the kiss, but only to rest his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the sudden, charged silence. “Tifa,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I want you.” The words, so simple, so direct, sent a wave of heat through her. It was an admission, a plea, a promise. She didn’t need to say anything; her body was already answering him, her hips tilting slightly against his, her nipples hardening against the thin fabric of her dress. Her skirt, a simple, practical garment she usually wore for work, suddenly felt like an unnecessary barrier, a tantalizing tease.

With a sigh that was half desire and half surrender, Cloud began to lift the hem of her skirt. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of her thighs, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. The fabric, soft and yielding, rose higher and higher, revealing the delicate lace of her panties. He paused, his gaze dropping to her lap, a look of raw hunger in his eyes. He traced the edge of the lace with a fingertip, his touch both reverent and possessive. Tifa’s breath hitched. She had never felt so exposed, so desired, yet so utterly safe. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a delicious ache that spread through her lower belly. She could feel the dampness between her legs, a tell-tale sign of her readiness, her yearning.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice a rough caress. His gaze traveled up her body, meeting her eyes. There was a question in his gaze, a silent asking for permission. She gave a slow, deliberate nod, her heart pounding like a drum against her ribs. He responded by gently pushing her panties down, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of her inner thighs. The cool air of the bar was a startling contrast to the heat that radiated from her core. As the lace parted, revealing the slick, swollen folds of her pussy, Cloud let out a soft groan. His eyes, dark with passion, devoured the sight. He knelt before her, his hands framing her hips, his thumbs caressing the sensitive skin just above her core. Tifa closed her eyes, her head tilting back, a soft moan escaping her lips. The raw, uninhibited desire in his gaze was intoxicating. She could feel his warmth, his scent, surrounding her, and she felt a sense of profound intimacy, a connection deeper than words could ever express.

“I’ve wanted to see this,” he admitted, his voice a low rumble against her skin. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the apex of her thighs. Tifa gasped, her fingers clenching the fabric of his shirt. His kiss was soft, tentative at first, then grew bolder, his tongue tracing the delicate lines of her anatomy. She arched her back, a helpless sound escaping her throat. The touch was exquisitely pleasurable, sending waves of sensation through her. She could feel the slickness of her own arousal, the way her body was responding so eagerly to his ministrations. Her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on, a silent plea for more. He worshipped her with his mouth, exploring every sensitive curve, every hidden crevice, driving her closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. She felt herself trembling, her body coiling with anticipation, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The world narrowed to the sensations he was igniting within her, the sweet, exquisite torment of his touch.

Her climax was a shattering explosion, a wave of pure ecstasy that washed over her, leaving her weak and trembling. She cried out his name, her body convulsing with pleasure. As the last tremors subsided, she sagged against him, her legs feeling like jelly. Cloud, his face flushed and his eyes blazing, gently guided her to one of the stools, his touch still possessive, still tender. He stood before her, his gaze filled with a raw, consuming desire. He reached down, his fingers brushing against the wet lace of her discarded panties. He brought them to his lips, kissing them with a reverence that made her blush. “So beautiful,” he repeated, his voice husky.

He then turned his attention to his own attire. His hands worked at his belt, the sounds of his movements sharp in the quiet bar. As his pants fell away, Tifa’s breath hitched again. He was magnificent, his body lean and muscular, his manhood hard and throbbing, a testament to his own arousal. He was fully ready, his desire for her palpable. He looked at her, his eyes locking with hers, a silent invitation. Tifa, still breathless from her own climax, felt a surge of renewed desire. She wanted him. She wanted him inside her, all of him. She reached out, her hand trembling as she guided him towards her. He groaned softly as she took him into her hand, her touch tentative at first, then more confident, her fingers stroking the hot, firm flesh. He was so hard, so thick, so impossibly perfect. She felt a thrill of power, of shared intimacy, in being able to bring him pleasure.

“Tifa,” he rasped, his voice strained. “You’re driving me crazy.” He reached for her, his hand gently guiding her upwards, his eyes never leaving hers. He stood before her, his cock throbbing impatiently. Tifa, emboldened by the raw passion in his eyes, stood up, her legs still a little wobbly. She felt the slickness of her own arousal against his hardened shaft. He pressed himself against her, their bodies fitting together with an almost desperate urgency. She could feel the heat radiating between them, the friction of their skin against skin. He nudged her with his hips, a silent plea. Tifa responded by taking him into her mouth, her lips encasing his throbbing length. A groan of pure pleasure rumbled in his chest. She savored the taste of him, the unique, intoxicating flavor of Cloud. She moved her mouth over him, her tongue teasing and lapping, her hands stroking his testicles, his shaft, eliciting soft groans and guttural sounds of pleasure from him. She felt him pulsing against her tongue, growing harder, fuller. She could feel his essence, his raw power, and it drove her wild.

His hands found her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. He groaned again, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Tifa, please,” he begged, his voice raw. “I can’t… I need you.” He pulled away from her mouth, his eyes burning with a fierce, primal need. He gently pushed her back onto the stool, his gaze never leaving her. He then positioned himself between her legs, his hard cock throbbing against her. Tifa instinctively parted her legs, her pussy slick and ready. He entered her slowly at first, a deep, satisfying penetration that made her cry out. He was so hard, so thick, so perfect. She felt him filling her, stretching her, making her whole. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Their bodies joined with a primal rhythm, a dance of passion and desire. Tifa met his thrusts, her hips moving in a frenetic, urgent tempo. She could feel the friction, the heat, the sheer pleasure of his body inside hers. She moaned his name, her voice choked with emotion. They moved together, a symphony of gasps, moans, and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin. The world outside the Seventh Heaven ceased to exist, their only reality the intense, passionate connection they shared. Every thrust was a reaffirmation of their bond, a release of pent-up longing. She could feel him getting closer, his body tensing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. She knew, with a certainty that vibrated through her very soul, that she was close too.

He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, and his thrusts became more powerful, more desperate. His hips slammed into hers, driving him deeper and deeper. Tifa cried out his name, her body arching upwards as she felt the familiar build-up of pleasure. Her second climax was even more intense than the first, a wave of pure bliss that consumed her. She felt him shuddering within her, his body convulsing as he poured his essence into her. He groaned, his voice thick with emotion, and Tifa felt the hot, pulsating rush of his cum filling her to the brim. It was a torrent, a flood, a creampie that left her gasping for air, her body utterly sated. He collapsed against her, their bodies still joined, his breath coming in ragged gasps. They stayed like that for a long moment, enveloped in the aftermath of their passionate encounter, the scent of their mingled sweat and arousal hanging heavy in the air.

He slowly pulled out of her, leaving her feeling both empty and profoundly full. He looked down at her, his eyes still blazing with a lingering intensity, but also softened with a deep affection. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead. “Tifa,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I…” He couldn’t find the words, but Tifa understood. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch still trembling slightly. “I know,” she whispered back, her voice filled with a tenderness that mirrored his own. She knew that this was more than just a physical release; it was a reaffirmation of their connection, a promise of what could be. As the first rays of dawn began to peek through the stained-glass windows, casting a new, hopeful light into the Seventh Heaven, Tifa and Cloud stood together, a quiet understanding passing between them, a silent acknowledgment of the deep, passionate bond that had always existed, and would continue to bloom, between them.