hottest guild men
spicy fics with mystogen x reader, gildarts x reader, natsu x reader, gray x reader, gajeel x reader
The quiet hum of the night settled over Magnolia, the glow of street lanterns casting flickering shadows against the cobblestone streets. You tightened your cloak around yourself, exhaling softly as you walked toward Fairy Tail’s guildhall. Your heart was still racing from the earlier mission—an ambush that should have been routine but nearly turned disastrous.
If he hadn’t shown up…
You stopped at the thought, closing your eyes for a moment.
Mystogan.
The elusive mage, a man who barely spoke, had arrived just in time, his magic swallowing your attackers in an instant. He had saved you without a word before vanishing like mist.
Just like always.
Frustration and something deeper—something dangerously close to longing—twisted inside you. You were tired of chasing shadows, tired of feeling his presence and never truly knowing him.
"Still thinking about me?"
The voice was quiet, but it sent a pulse of heat down your spine. You whirled around, and there he was, leaning against the stone wall of an alley, half-hidden in the darkness. The glow of the lanterns barely reached his masked face, but his eyes—those sharp, piercing eyes—burned into you.
"You always do that," you accused, stepping closer. "Disappear. Reappear. Never say anything."
Mystogan tilted his head slightly. "Would you rather I didn’t come at all?"
You hesitated. The truth sat heavy on your tongue. "No," you admitted, softer this time. "But I want to know why. Why do you always run?"
There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours. Then, in a move so fast you barely registered it, he was in front of you, his body radiating warmth despite the cool night air.
"I run because staying close to you is dangerous." His voice was lower now, more intimate. "Because every time I see you, I want—"
He cut himself off, his gloved fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your chin just enough to make your breath hitch.
Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "Then stop running."
A sound escaped him—half a sigh, half a growl—before his fingers traced down your neck, gliding over the exposed skin at your collarbone. The sensation sent a shiver through you.
"You don’t understand what you’re asking for."
"Then show me."
That was all it took.
One moment, you were standing in the cool night air, and the next, you were pressed against the stone wall, his hands gripping your waist as his lips crashed into yours.
His kiss was demanding, claiming, filled with all the restraint he had been holding back. His gloved fingers slid beneath the fabric of your cloak, pressing into your skin, mapping every inch of you as though committing it to memory.
You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling into the fabric of his cloak as he deepened the kiss, his body flush against yours. Every touch, every movement was controlled, deliberate—yet underneath it, you could feel it. The storm beneath his calm.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.
"This… was a mistake," he murmured, though his grip on you didn’t loosen.
You smirked, brushing your fingers along his jaw, feeling the way he tensed under your touch. "Then why do you look like you want to do it again?"
His eyes darkened.
And just like that, restraint shattered.
The wind howled through the mountains, carrying the scent of damp earth and the lingering metallic tang of battle. You wiped the blood from your cheek—thankfully, not yours—and exhaled, your muscles burning from the fight. The ruins you had been sent to investigate were nothing but rubble now, thanks to the massive beast that had ambushed you.
And thanks to the man currently standing with his arms crossed, looking far too smug for someone who had arrived late to the fight.
"You had it handled?" Gildarts Clive chuckled, tilting his head as he surveyed the mess. His cloak fluttered in the wind, his battle-worn armor barely fastened, as if he hadn’t taken this mission seriously at all.
You huffed, crossing your arms. "I did."
He raised a brow, clearly amused. "Yeah? 'Cause from where I was standing, it looked like you were about to be monster chow."
You scowled. "I was fine."
His smirk widened. "Sure you were, sweetheart."
That damn nickname. You hated how your pulse jumped every time he said it, the way his deep, rough voice made it sound like something far more intimate.
"Don’t call me that," you muttered, turning away.
But Gildarts had never been one to let things go. In a blink, he was behind you, his presence overwhelming, his heat pressing against your back. His breath ghosted over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
"Why not?" His voice was lower now, teasing, but there was something else there. Something heavier.
You swallowed hard. "Because it—"
"Because it makes you think about things you shouldn't?" His hand rested lightly on your hip, fingers tracing slow circles through the fabric of your torn tunic. "Because it makes you wonder what it’d sound like if I whispered it a little closer?"
You should have stepped away. Should have told him to stop playing with you. But instead, you turned to face him, your breath catching when you realized just how close he was. His eyes burned into you, full of mischief, full of promises he wasn’t supposed to make.
"I—"
You didn’t get the chance to finish.
Gildarts moved fast—too fast—pressing you against the jagged stone wall of the ruins, his body pinning yours with a slow, deliberate pressure that had nothing to do with fighting. His fingers traced up your arm, slow and featherlight, until they reached your chin, tilting it just enough for him to meet your gaze.
"You know," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, "I’m not really good at playing nice."
You exhaled shakily. "Good thing I don’t want nice."
A slow grin spread across his face. "Yeah?"
And then his lips crashed into yours.
There was nothing gentle about it. Gildarts kissed like he fought—fierce, consuming, overwhelming in the best way. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, no air, no reason left in your mind.
His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that sent heat pooling in your core. You gripped his cloak, fisting the fabric as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing, coaxing, setting every nerve in your body alight.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. "Damn," he muttered, his voice husky. "You’re trouble."
You smirked, still breathless. "And you love it."
His laughter was low, rough, and undeniably wicked. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing his lips against your ear, "you have no idea."
The forest was quiet—too quiet. The eerie stillness sent a chill up your spine as you gripped your weapon, scanning the area for any signs of movement. The mission had seemed simple enough: track down a rogue dark guild causing trouble near Magnolia and put an end to their schemes.
But now, standing in the middle of the trees with the scent of burning magic lingering in the air, you had a sinking feeling that things were about to go very, very wrong.
A low growl rumbled behind you.
You barely had time to turn before a massive, scaled beast lunged from the shadows, its sharp claws aiming right for you. You braced yourself for impact—
Flames roared past you, slamming into the creature with devastating force. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, knocking you back a few steps as the beast screeched in agony.
You knew that fire anywhere.
A smirking, fire-haired dragon slayer stepped beside you, flames still licking at his fists. "You seriously thought you’d take this thing on alone?"
You shot Natsu a glare, your heart still hammering in your chest. "I had it under control."
He snorted. "Yeah, sure you did." His eyes flicked to the charred remains of the monster, then back to you with a teasing glint. "You should be thanking me, y’know."
You huffed. "Thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.
But before you could say anything else, Natsu stepped closer. Too close. His heat enveloped you, even though his flames had long since died down. His expression shifted from teasing to something more intense, something that sent a completely different kind of heat rushing through you.
"You’re hurt," he murmured, his gaze trailing over your shoulder where your sleeve was torn, revealing a shallow cut.
"It’s nothing," you mumbled, but Natsu didn’t seem convinced.
His fingers brushed against your skin, warm and rough, sending a shiver through you. His touch lingered, his thumb tracing slow circles over your shoulder, and suddenly, your heartbeat had nothing to do with the fight you just had.
"You’re always so damn reckless," he muttered, his voice lower now, filled with something unfamiliar. Something dangerous.
You swallowed hard. "Like you’re one to talk."
Natsu’s smirk returned, but this time, there was something different about it. Something predatory. His free hand came up, curling around your waist, tugging you flush against him.
"Maybe," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, "but I don’t let people I care about get hurt."
Your breath hitched.
You should have said something—should have pushed him away, should have done anything except let yourself melt against him. But the way his fingers pressed into your skin, the way his body radiated heat against yours, made coherent thought impossible.
"Natsu—"
You didn’t get to finish.
His lips crashed against yours, hot and demanding, stealing the air from your lungs. His grip tightened on your waist as he pulled you even closer, his fire searing into you in the best possible way. His kiss was rough, wild, completely unrestrained, just like him.
A small gasp escaped you, and Natsu took full advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, coaxing, teasing, consuming. His hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as he pressed you against the nearest tree, trapping you between his body and the rough bark.
"You drive me crazy," he growled against your lips before kissing you again, harder this time, as if he was trying to prove a point.
Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as heat coiled in your stomach, setting every nerve in your body alight.
"Natsu—" you panted when he finally pulled back, his lips barely an inch from yours.
His smirk was wicked, his pupils blown wide with something untamed. "Say my name like that again, and I won’t be able to stop."
You shivered. "Then don’t."
A deep, rumbling growl left his throat before his lips were back on yours, and this time, there was no holding back.
And as the forest burned around you, you knew one thing for certain:
You would gladly let Natsu Dragneel consume you whole.
The cold wind bit at your skin as you stood in the middle of the frozen battlefield, your breath coming in heavy gasps. The mission had been an ambush—a group of dark wizards had set a trap, and now you were left bruised, exhausted, and struggling to stay on your feet.
But you weren’t alone.
Gray Fullbuster stood in front of you, shirtless as always, his body radiating raw power despite the ice magic coursing through his veins. His sharp eyes scanned the remaining enemies, his jaw tight with frustration.
"You okay?" His voice was lower than usual, rougher.
You nodded, trying to steady yourself. "I’m fine."
Gray scoffed. "Yeah? 'Cause you don’t look fine."
You hated the way your body reacted to him—how just the sight of him standing there, muscles tense and lips slightly parted, made your knees weak in a way that had nothing to do with the fight.
"Let’s just finish this," you muttered.
But before you could take another step, an enemy launched an attack from the shadows. A sharp blast of dark magic shot toward you, too fast to dodge.
You barely had time to react before Gray was in front of you, his body a shield as his ice magic erupted in an instant, blocking the attack. The force of the blast sent you stumbling back, and before you could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around your waist.
"Dammit," Gray cursed, holding you close. "You’re reckless."
"You’re one to talk," you shot back, but your voice came out breathless, your chest pressed against his bare skin.
Gray didn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightened, his fingers digging into your sides. His breath was warm against your ear, despite the cold surrounding you.
"You scared me," he muttered.
Your heart stuttered. "Gray—"
"Shut up," he growled, pulling back just enough to look at you. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with something dangerous, something you weren’t sure you were ready for.
But then he kissed you.
It was sudden, almost desperate. His lips crashed against yours, and you barely had time to react before heat spread through you, completely at odds with the icy magic still lingering in the air. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you like he needed you, like letting go wasn’t an option.
A small gasp escaped you, and Gray took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing against yours, slow and intoxicating. His body pressed against yours, firm and unrelenting, as if he was trying to melt into you entirely.
When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.
"You drive me insane," he muttered, his fingers trailing over your cheek.
You smirked, still breathless. "Good."
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest before his lips found yours again, softer this time but just as hungry.
And in that moment, as the ice around you began to crack, you realized something:
Gray Fullbuster was cold, but with you, he burned.
The battlefield was chaos. Explosions lit up the sky, dust and debris clouding the air as you dodged another blast of magic. Your body ached, muscles screaming from the relentless fight, but you weren’t about to back down.
Not when your opponent was still standing.
With a sharp inhale, you steadied yourself, gripping your weapon tighter. The dark guild members had underestimated you, but that wouldn’t last long. You just had to hold out—
A shadow loomed behind you.
You barely had time to react before a massive force crashed down, sending shockwaves through the ground. You stumbled forward, only for a pair of strong, ironclad arms to wrap around your waist, yanking you out of harm’s way.
"The hell do ya think you’re doin’, woman?"
You groaned, blinking up at the familiar, red-eyed dragon slayer now standing over you. Gajeel Redfox.
"Saving your ass, apparently," you shot back.
Gajeel snorted, his grip on you firm even as he helped you back onto your feet. "More like the other way around. You looked like ya were about to get squashed."
You glared at him, though the heat radiating off his body was distracting. He was so damn solid, muscles tense from battle, his long black hair wild and messy from the fight.
Before you could argue, another enemy charged. Gajeel pushed you behind him with an easy strength, his body acting as an impenetrable wall.
"Stay back," he growled.
But you weren’t one to sit still. As Gajeel lunged forward, his iron fists colliding with the enemy, you moved with him, striking from behind.
"Oi, I told ya—"
"I don’t take orders," you interrupted, smirking as you flipped past him, dodging another attack.
Gajeel let out a low growl, and despite the fight raging around you, you could feel the heat between you both crackling like a live wire. He was watching you now, eyes dark with something deeper than just battle adrenaline.
Something you weren’t ready to acknowledge just yet.
But then, a sharp pain shot through your side.
A cry escaped you as you were sent flying backward, slamming into a pile of rubble. The impact knocked the wind out of you, your vision spinning.
"Shit," you gasped, trying to push yourself up.
Heavy footsteps thundered toward you, but before another attack could land—
A roar split through the battlefield.
Gajeel was on them in an instant, his iron magic ripping through the air with deadly precision. His normally cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something primal, something furious.
When the last enemy fell, Gajeel turned on his heel, stalking toward you with an intensity that made your heart pound for an entirely different reason.
"You okay?" His voice was rough, laced with barely restrained anger.
You managed a weak grin. "I’m fine—"
Gajeel didn’t let you finish.
One second, you were sitting up, and the next, he had you pinned against the nearest wall, his hands braced beside your head, caging you in. His breath was hot against your skin, his red eyes burning into yours.
"Ya scared the shit outta me," he muttered.
You swallowed hard. "I’m not that easy to kill."
"Don’t care." His voice was lower now, rougher. His fingers grazed over your injured side, the touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual brashness. "Yer mine to protect."
Your breath hitched. "Gajeel—"
His lips crashed against yours, all fire and frustration, demanding and unrelenting. He kissed you like he was claiming you, like he needed to prove something—to himself, to you, to anyone who thought they could take you away from him.
A low moan escaped you as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. His body was all muscle, solid and warm, and when he pressed even closer, you could feel just how badly he wanted you.
When he finally pulled away, his smirk was back, though his eyes still held that dark, dangerous glint.
"You’re mine, got it?"
Your lips were swollen, breath shaky as you smirked back. "Took you long enough to say it."
Gajeel growled, his lips crashing back onto yours, and this time, he had no intention of letting you go.
