demialwrites

[demialwrites]

Copy #1 (next to a kitty). I accidentally ordered a second copy from another book store website because of an error message. It's on the way 😂😅

[demialwrites]

There's a glaring lack of information about Rufus' mother. Maybe it's because she's not important to the story and we should infer she had little impact on him. Or maybe she wasn't important to President Shinra. I don't know.

[demialwrites]

i do appreciate the way that we tumblr users have evolved our language to discuss our feelings related to The Character/The Guy. you used to have to just say he was hot or he was making your ovaries explode or he was a precious cinnamon roll even if he looked bad or was just kind of standing there or whatever. now you can say things like “the creature” or “he looks so sopping wet here” or “i want to chain him to my radiator” like it’s just more inclusive and adaptable to the situation

[demialwrites]

Exception to the Rule Chapter 13: I Love You

AO3 Link

tw: incest

The poor sofa in the shared living space is not exempt from your forbidden trysts. It’s the second casualty, after the bed. You push him onto the cushions and climb onto his lap, immediately kissing him deeply. He writhes. He wanted to be able to do this with you for so long but it’s still overwhelming. Your grasp on his body is so tight, it aches. But he still wants it. He assumes you’re excited to be getting laid again after a long dry spell and frees your blouse from your work slacks. One arm locks you close by the waist while the other invades your shirt from below. You’re so sensitive that just a single squeeze of your breast makes you melt against his shoulder, groaning. You spread your knees wider to sit more flush against his lap. His erection is obvious even under the layers of clothing and its warmth meets yours. You want to get your bra out of the way but then your shirt would have to go and-

You turn around to look at the tall windows of the living room. The double curtains are partly open. It’s dark outside but if someone had a pair of binoculars, then-

Rufus speaks your name, halting your train of thought. “Want to shut them?”

You turn back. “...no. Fuck it.” You slip off your shirt, then your bra.

He chuckles and gets to work on undoing your slacks. He’s heard that twice from you in one week. You direct him to slip a finger inside while you knead your own breasts. He throws his glove on the cushion next to him before he does so, pushing your panties aside. He watches you touch yourself while he strokes your insides. It gives him such a high to see your desire for him plain on your face. He likes to imagine that you're craving his cock and his finger is just a stepping stone to it.

When he uses a second finger, you melt back onto his shoulder, “Fuck, that feels so good.”

“I appreciate hearing that,” is the rumble you hear from his throat. “Feedback is important.”

You go to sass him in return but he puts extra strength into the curl of his fingers, surprising a loud moan out of you. “That’s good…”

The next thing you know, he’s stopped, and you’re wondering where the time went. He’s freed his cock from his ridiculously layered pants. Wipes his fingers on his dark grey button-up, making you also wonder when he took his coat off. His hand rests next to his erection, purposely drawing your gaze to it.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he purrs, giving your ass a quick squeeze with the other.

“Shut up.” Yet, you’re getting off his lap to get the obstacles off. Removing them feels like eons. “Take off more clothes,” you shout at him.

He grins like a predator that led his prey into a trap he set long ago. It’s infuriating. You get him to lie down on the sofa because you’re going to be on top this time. You’re looking down at him, filled nicely, and he’s right; his cock was what you were waiting for. Your mind decides then to remind you that this is your brother. The forbidden nature of it makes you pulse around him.

His maddening smirk softens. The look in his eyes intensifies. “I love you.”

You stiffen, all the desire cooling off instantly.

Rufus notes the silence and the change in expression. He squeezes your hip gently. “Hey. Do you want to stop?”

You could say yes but you want to remain where you are. You’re no longer in a hurry, is all. You lie forward. He wraps his arms around you, surrounding you and filling you at the same time.

“If we don’t move, I’ll eventually go soft,” he informs you.

“That’s fine. You get hard easily, apparently.”

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards at that. You lie your ear on his chest and your vision is treated to a pair of bright, red eyes staring unblinking at the both of you from across the room. The dog.

You stick your lower lip out briefly. “What would he do if I threw a pillow at him?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done that,” he says flatly, judging you for even thinking about it.

You scoff. “You know I love him but why does he have to do that?”

You sit back up, the movement causing the appendage within you to shift a little. You shift, also, getting a little more comfortable, making Rufus groan quietly. Just above and to the right of Darkstar is the window. The transparent reflection of you two gives you mixed feelings, one of which is that the two of you do look good together.

Your PHS interrupts the private moment you're having. You're annoyed but let it go. It beeps again. Then again. Again. You get so annoyed that you get off Rufus. He makes a low, pouty noise. Your pants are on the floor so you crouch down to retrieve the PHS from them. When you unlock it, you find a series of messages. They're confusing, written like the other person pressed ‘send’ after every thought. They read like a confession. A crazy little avalanche. Reading further, you realize; this is about the rumour about Rufus losing his last girlfriend because he was supposedly obsessed with you. This person really wants you to know about it and feels bad telling you. But you already know your brother has feelings for you and it feels like this person is this close to the truth. You're normally a pro at discarding useless rumours (true or not) and staying anchored, but this time reality is threatening to intrude, making you breathe faster. Rufus has been watching, waiting for you to return to him.

“Who is it?”

You turn and lean against the sofa so he can see the screen. “Do you know this number?”

He sits up halfway, staring at the number as he searches his memory. “It's Lyrel.”

…Lyrel. Ah, it's his last ex. You only remember her name because it sounded pretty. All his exes were blending together by the time he ascended to the presidency because he had so many.

“She went insane when I ended things.”

You couldn’t care less about his exes because as soon as he breaks up with them, you consider them irrelevant. However, you're still staring at the messages so Rufus interrupts, “You know,” he says, his hand going to the base of his cock, “you'd look great with this in your mouth.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, gently slapping his stomach. He visibly flinches. You sit up on your knees to get a closer look at him, putting the PHS down on your pile of clothes. “Still hurt from the fight in the arena?”

After a pause, he answers, “Yes.”

“Then we shouldn’t-”

He sits up quickly, a thin line of teeth bared from suppressing another wince, his hands going to your upper arms. “No. I finally-” The feelings associated with the memory of the rejected hug fill his chest, causing him to abort his sentence. “I’m not in a lot of pain. I promise.”

“You shouldn’t be in any pain, you idiot.”

“It hurts less when you’re on top,” he purrs, undeterred.

The look you give tells him that no amount of pain is going to sound enticing. Rufus relents. You part ways to do your respective nighttime routines. You brush your teeth. Seeing your own face in the mirror confirms for you that telling Rufus no was the better idea.

A hot shower is next, hoping the heat will make you sleepy. Stepping out of the shower, you find yourself refreshed instead. You remember that Rufus loves the scent of your current soap. Of course you smell good, you think to yourself, already heading to his bedroom to re-initiate what was interrupted earlier. Except Rufus is not there. You’re certain you know where he is but before you leave his bedroom, you rifle through his bedside table drawer, remembering you saw him pull a condom out of here the first time you used one with him. You normally respect his privacy in his bedroom but he’ll forgive you this time. You head in the direction of your bedroom, hoping you guessed correctly.

“I can’t believe you,” you tell him, closing your bedroom door behind you.

He’s gotten comfortable in your bed and hasn’t had his fill of you today. This time, his invasion is welcome. He thinks you’re going to sleep together when you climb back onto his lap. Before he can think about starting the “I love you” nonsense again, your hand has already practically ripped his cock out of his pajama pants and your mouth is covering his.

He leans back briefly to mutter, “Too rough.”

You’re just as undeterred as he is and he has to remind you a few times to be more gentle. It’s in contrast to your hand flat against his stomach, reminding him not to thrust up into you to avoid hurting himself. You’re taking care of everything right now, even if you’re confidently fumbling along and not being gentle about it.

“Nnnghhh, I’m going to-”

Your mouth finds his again when he says that, preempting any blurting of feelings. After you’ve both finished, you slide off him and curl into his side, avoiding eye contact. You’ll have to talk about feelings another time. Just…not now. Not yet. Things are going so well. No need to complicate that.

[demialwrites]

I may have annoyed the OP with my addition to their post so I deleted it.

[demialwrites]

This was meant to be just Rufus but I can't let him go alone, can I?

[demialwrites]

Today's dose!

[demialwrites]

Sephiroth post-Nibelheim is just him getting the enrichment he needs. That he never got. That freedom. Hojo never properly let him out.

[demialwrites]

Licking his face?! Who is actually the cute puppy here?! 😂

I'm so glad you did this because I wrestled with this last night at 2 am. I tried to find a tutorial on adding freckles just in case adding brown dots and turning down the opacity looked stupid. All I found was how to remove them. I was already feeling sick so I went to bed all mad.

Also, I opened my Spotify and immediately laid eyes on this:

I see your new blog title and icon. Very nice. I love when you are silly. Also, I wonder if I'm being weird but I think Rufus would look adorable with freckles. I already don't take him seriously but if he had freckles, I would have an extra hard time taking him seriously.

shakign and trembling and so grateful i was sitting down when i read this and staggering to my drawing software to try to do justice to the most perfect heacanon ever crafted

taking deep and steadying breaths now i'm good i'm good i am fine this is . AAAGHGHGH GHGGHGHGHGHG HGHGHGHG HHHHH GRABBING HIS CHIN KISSING HIS FRECKLES AND THEN LICKING HIS STUPID FACE

[demialwrites]

Exception to the Rule Chapter 12: Insecurity

AO3 Link

tw: incest

It’s evening when you wake up from the nap you didn’t remember planning to take. You’re overheated, again because of this man. But this time, you consented to being held. You wiggle a bit to jostle him awake. “Hey, we need to eat something. It’s dinnertime.”

It’s a lazy evening with your energy levels dipping because of the nap that went on too long. You eat together, the weight of what you did hanging over you lightening as it becomes more normalized. As long as no one finds out, you remind yourself. Your mind drifts back to the possibility of war again. Instead of bringing that up and ruining the mood, you say, “You know, Scarlet hasn’t done anything for a while.”

“I did talk to her,” Rufus replies after swallowing a bite of food.

“I do appreciate that but I still don’t trust her.”

Rufus sits back straighter in his chair and nods decisively, “We’ll deal with it.”

You stare at him, unsure. Rufus is acting like things will just fall into place now and that you can take anything on together. You’re reminded of the meeting with his dramatic speech, demanding the board’s loyalty. It's not normally wise to put so much trust in one person—your father taught you that. But if you were going to put your trust in one person, it would be Rufus. It would have been two people if your mother was alive but she’s been gone for a long time.

You spend the next few days like a pair of sneaky teenagers waiting until the adults in the house are out, except you’re waiting for the staff to leave to fuck several mores times in other less comfortable, but more exciting, places. Before, you had to sneak around the staff and Rufus when you brought partners home but now there’s just the two of you in the evenings. It’s your place, right? Why shouldn’t you reclaim those surfaces as yours in the name of your new relationship? The few memories of your father coming home late from work fades with each passing day as the penthouse feels more like it belongs to you and your brother, rather than something you inherited. Rufus tries to initiate something at work, as well, but you refuse, despite his assurances that there is no CCTV in his office. He settles for longer than usual glances at you when no one else is looking.

Rufus had caught Reeve talking to you, again. It was after a board meeting that had wound down naturally, the energy of the executives low because of the failed expedition. Reeve caught you just as you walked out of the meeting room. Rufus spies this and hangs back, pretending that Darkstar needs attention. He watches you chat with the other director while continuing to pet his hound. His other hand is in a tight, trembling fist behind his back.

The seconds drag by and Reeve isn’t leaving. Rufus passes you both, instead. He heads to the elevator and slams the call button with that same fist. Once he’s inside, the button for the cafeteria level receives the same abuse.

~

Rufus’s upper lip rises as he jerks his face away from Reno’s hand.

“Boss-” Reno cuts himself off with a tut. “Lemme go get the chief’s healing materia.”

“I said no.”

It’s times like these that Rufus sounds like a child instead of a thirty-year-old. Reno resumes doing his best to tend to Rufus’ wounds. On occasion, Rufus will hit the battle simulator so hard that he injures himself. The Turks have trained with Rufus many times themselves when he was stuck down in their HQ on B3; they know Rufus can maneuver himself to avoid most injuries, even if plainly out of vanity. His appearance is one way he signals to the world what kind of man he is and maintains it fastidiously. On the rare occasion, he leaves that behind and emerges from the battle simulator with ripped clothes and mussed hair. There’s anger in his eyes but he never says who it’s directed at. What snaps him out of it is not the cuts, not the scrapes, not any burns, but seeing blood staining his white clothes. Tseng is usually the one who discards the now-useless clothes secretly. He also usually keeps his thoughts to himself. Reno doesn’t.

Reno decides to play dirty, hoping to push Rufus to accept proper care. “Really? What will the madam director say if she sees this,” he asks coyly.

Rufus would usually snap back at such an obvious manipulation. Instead, there’s a split second of fear in his light-blue eyes before he presses his lips together and huffs. “Fine.”

[demialwrites]

You are never letting a WIP rot. You are doing it a service. Your WIP is a sourdough starter and the five words you wrote that one day were all it needed to sustain itself. It will bubble and be ready when you are.

[demialwrites]

I wrote more of Older!Reader and Rufus in an arranged marriage. There was someone who wanted to be tagged if it got continued but I can't find them anymore. That makes me sad. Well, enjoy!

Rufus didn't plan for this. He needed a new plan. Needed. He got lost in his thoughts.

He did want at least one child to pass the Shinra company to. But he was hoping to have that child with someone younger and more impressionable. That sounds bad, even in his head. Still, he can't enter into this marriage with nothing with which to bargain. A younger wife would more readily agree to receiving money, gifts, or even approval, in exchange for more obedience. This one, here, is already distancing herself despite knowing what kind of company he runs. You must have some idea of what you could accomplish with his backing. What would appeal to a woman like you…?

“Plastic surgery,” he blurts. Your eyebrows shoot up but before they can properly escape your forehead, he adds, “I can pay for it. All the procedures you want.”

Your shock tightens into a frown. He doesn't know what that expression means exactly but he does know he's floundering.

“Excuse me? Did you just call me old?”

Deciding to brush aside that you confidently stated your age less than five minutes ago, he replies, “No.”

You still wear a frown but it's now one of confusion. “Why did you say that, then?”

“I...” His gaze dropped to the table before returning to you. “You want something from me, don’t you?”

“No.”

Confused and a little frustrated, he said the first thing that popped into his head. “What about our honeymoon?” Don't you know how much it cost? He paid for it. He did. You were supposed to enjoy it and be impressed. Then go home with him and be a good little wife.

“Did you pay for that?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“Costa del Sol.”

Your face lit up. “Well, you already paid, right?”

That was not the response he was expecting. Like he'd already thrown the money away and therefore, it was okay to enjoy it. But he should probably let go of that false image he had for what kind of wife he was expecting. He's being cautious about whether or not he likes this one. He did appreciate that you were going with the flow. A point in your favour.

“Ah, but…” You began speaking but apparently, you'd already decided what to do because you got up and started gathering items like your bag, your jacket, and looking for your shoes. “I have to check something at the café.”

A café? That was a business and Rufus is a businessman. Curiosity took hold of him and before he knew it, he was driving you over to this café. If you had an opinion about him coming along, you didn't show it and instead fidgeted with the buttons and knobs on the doors and dashboard. At least you were occupied.

Getting information about this café out of you was like pulling teeth. He suspected you didn't want his opinion and was poised to tell him to back off, which preemptively had him miffed. He was offering valuable free advice. He looked for an opening to insert some but so far, this conversation has been him asking questions and you giving curt answers. Normally, he'd just ignore such signals.

Rufus couldn't argue with the location. It was in a nice enough area but away from anywhere overpriced. Another question gained him the knowledge that your father put up the money to start this place, just happy that you wanted to start something like this yourself. He tried to ask about what you'd been doing before, but you vaguely replied that you had “tried a few things and it didn't work out.”

Rufus was impressed to hear you'd been in business for a while. That got him itching to take a look at your numbers. He saw his opportunity when you ignored him to poke around in a baked goods display case near the register. He found the nook that served as your office next to a row of shelves with cleaning products above a mop in a bucket on the floor.

He spied a small, black safe under the counter. There was a hard-cover notebook that looked promising tucked next to a computer. He reached for the notebook.

“What are you doing?”

His hand halted just before his fingers could grasp the spine. There you stood, half-eaten pastry in one hand and a whole in the other, and a suspicious frown on your face.

“What are you doing at my office?”

He could hardly consider a counter attached to the wall an office, automatically comparing it to his. Diplomatically, he chose not to voice that opinion and answered calmly with a practiced smile. “You caught me. I was going to look at your-”

“No, you're not.”

Being interrupted knocked the smile off his face. “I just thought-”

“You think you know better than me, don't you?”

Something about the way you said that angered him and the way you looked at him for daring to offer his opinion. He had to take a moment to calm himself, running his fingers through his hair. “I was just trying to help,” he insisted.

“You're looking down on me, aren't you,” you insisted, louder.

That stunned him. He was digging his heels in because he thought you were looking down on him. You were actually protecting yourself from his opinion, not dismissing it. This whirlwind of a woman had suddenly become more human-shaped. It was relieving, and a little scary.

“I'm not. You don't have to take my advice but maybe I can help here and there.”

You reluctantly opened the notebook, to his relief. The two of you went through your expenses together, putting your heads together over the counter. He saw the cost for the workers' benefits, the milk from the local farm, the extra hours training the baristas to your standards, the coffee beans, and the local bakery you got your baked goods from. He narrowed his eyes at your margins. It's not that the two of you needed the money but he couldn't help it. They were so thin, it was offensive to his pride.

Rufus pressed his pointer finger to the page where the bakery's name was printed. “Right here: this vendor could be switched out for a cheaper one. We have the same one for the office and they’ve been more than adequate.”

“I can't compromise on quality. That's part of our thing.”

“You can't have this many ‘things.’ They all have a cost. Pick one to eliminate.” After watching you sigh and shift your weight back and forth on your feet, he said, “You don’t have to decide now.”

You nodded, then offered him the second pastry you had put on the desk during the conversation. “It’s ‘expired’ technically but it’s still safe to eat. It’s just not fresh for the customers.” When he hesitated, you added, “I could eat it,” sounding secretly excited about the idea.

That changed his mind and he plucked it from your hand. He unwrapped the plastic and found it was actually a dense little cake, yellow and lemon-scented. Trying it, he realized it was better than the vendor Shinra used. He chewed thoughtfully, suppressing a pleased smirk. Ah, this was something he could work with. Keeping your business was something you wanted, right? So if you ran into a problem and it was about to fail, he could swoop in and help. He mentally tucked that idea away for later and popped the rest of the cake into his mouth to chew it deliberately.

[demialwrites]

Forgot to post this here–a gif of Rufus saying “I own you.” 

[demialwrites]

Exception to the Rule Chapter 11: Impulsivity

AO3 Link

tw: incest

That you agreed to this was another extension of your impulsivity.

Rufus remembered a night after he had been caught doing something particularly naughty, that President Shinra had stumbled upon one of his many schemes. It wasn’t quite as bad as funding AVALANCHE, but it was close. Rufus had been grounded at his father’s home this time. Being confined to Turk HQ later was a more extreme version of this. To the president. To Rufus, it had been frustrating and boring but survivable. Being confined to the same living quarters as his father had been more of a hell.

You came home late. Late enough to pique his curiosity. 

You came in and clumsily swung the door shut behind you. You flinched at the sound, it being louder than you intended. Rufus could tell immediately that you weren’t sober. Sometimes, you did this when upset about something. Maybe it was about Rufus being grounded as a full-grown adult, maybe not. Maybe it was about your shared father. It had to be one of those two. In this case, it could have been both. When like this, you went out, got drunk and/or high, had casual sex, and came home. President Shinra didn’t care as long as you didn’t come home pregnant with a random man’s child. That would mar his reputation.

Rufus himself was drinking his alcohol of choice, wine again, so he wasn’t planning on judging harshly.

Still, he found himself asking, “Where have you been?”

“Why, is Dad asking?” You were poised to get angry, depending on the reply.

“You know he didn’t,” Rufus stated.

“Fuck!” you yelled.

Based on this short exchange, you were at least angry about your father. Rufus hated being here. He didn’t know why you came home at all to reside in the same place as the senior Shinra. You could have taken this opportunity to stay away for a night.

“Maybe you should have stayed at his place, this time,” Rufus suggested. “Or was it…a her?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you replied, misunderstanding what he meant.

It was said with all venom and no suggestiveness but Rufus still lifted his wine glass to his face to hide his face heating up, appearing as if he was frustrated with you. You muttered something and angrily blew past him to head to your bedroom. He watched you go. He saw your shared mother’s physical features in you. Yet, he never felt about her the way he felt about you. He didn’t think about the why.

~

Finally getting you in his bed must have made him regress to teenage-brain because he actually thought he could penetrate you without foreplay. You manage to relax but then you panic a little and tense up again. It starts to hurt, prompting Rufus to pull out. This cycle repeats itself several times and he barely makes it halfway in before you start getting frustrated.

“Maybe if you weren't massive…”

“I'm not. You're just tight.”

“Tch.“

You know exactly what the problem is but you're nowhere near ready to explain it. It's the same reason you're on your hands and knees and can't look him in the eyes right now. The same reason all your relationships have failed up until now. As soon as you got close to anyone, you couldn't get turned on anymore and eventually things fizzled out. You had assumed the same thing had been happening for Rufus. How else did he end up here, behind you instead of with someone else? Maybe you're way off, judging by how he’s having no trouble maintaining his erection. It's not something he usually talks about.

“Roll over,” he says.

You do, flopping onto your back. He lies next to you, upper body propped up on an elbow. You manage to maintain eye contact for a second before having to look elsewhere.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

“...no.”

You're not ready to give up yet. Neither of you say anything for a while. He presses a kiss to your forehead and rests a palm on your breast. You cover his hand with yours. It does feel good when he squeezes but then your brain inflicts on you a vague image of your father touching your mother in a similar situation. A gross intrusive thought.

Rufus unintentionally comes to the rescue with a kiss to your lips. It's slow and with a kind of tenderness he's never shown you before. You're a little jealous because this must be how he treated his past lovers. But also smug, because now he's kissing you and not any of them. His hair falls to tickle your forehead. You reach up with spread fingers to pin it back, tucking it behind his ear.

“Mmmph.” You close your mouth to end the kiss and make him open his eyes. “Use your fingers.”

Rufus hums. “Good idea.”

Of course. You always have good ideas. Rufus starts with one finger. Its welcome intrusion already causes you to bring your heels closer and open your knees with a sigh.

You clap his chest gently with one hand. “Actually, use two.”

He glances down your body as he adds a second finger. You relax further into the bed with a sigh and start to stroke your clit. You have an excuse to close your eyes.

“You know…three is the correct size,” he says and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Don't interrupt.”

“But you're already touching yourself.”

“Trust me, I'm going to need it.”

“What if I can't wait?”

You clap him again on the chest with your free hand. “You can! I know you. You have lots of patience.”

“No one knows me like you do.”

He says it like he's only stating a fact but you still bury your face in his chest. “Shut up.”

“Do you want to come on my fingers?” he asks after a couple of minutes.

“I do,” you say into his chest. Then you scoff when he pulls them out. “I do!”

You climb on top of him to argue but his cock rubs against you, distracting you and defusing your anger. He's smug. So smug. Smugly squeezing your ass.

“No,” you state, moving his hand to your breast.

He does what every man does, he amuses himself by squeezing and bouncing it. His second hand soon joins the first on the other one. You lean into his touch, grinding your clit on his pelvis.

“Why aren't you sitting on this?” He takes a hand away and pulls his cock down, letting it bounce back against your ass.

You thought you looked sexy, biting your lip and getting off on his body. Is that not enough?

“No. You're on top this time,” you grumble, getting off him.

“‘This time’?”

After hearing that, he gets excited. Well, excited for Rufus is regarding you with a small smile from above as he situates himself between your legs.

You cover your face. “Stop.”

Instead of asking you to rejoin him from behind your hands with his voice, he spreads your legs and presses the head of his cock to your already messy folds.

You're waiting for Rufus to accuse you of just lying there but you can't help it. You're fascinated by seeing this new side of him, his expressions and reactions to touching and being inside you.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

You nod. “Uhuh,” you reply, not able to form actual words, nor wanting to.

He gives you a quick, passionate kiss in acknowledgement. You encourage him by digging your fingers into his back. That if he could be closer, you certainly crave it. But he also just found the correct angle for his cock, so…there's no need to move.

As time goes by, it's clear Rufus had something else in mind when he was picturing this. It's not you yelling at him to slow down and to touch you “here, just like I just said!” Of course someone he's known most of his life wouldn't shy away from bruising his ego in the pursuit of her own orgasm. But he's also never heard you whine like that. He wants to hear it again and again and again. Until he needs a break. Even during sex, you tire him out.

“I don't remember the last time I saw your hair that messy,” you tell him during said break.

He tries to fix it, failing miserably, until you have to tell him it's sexy.

After the break, he almost accuses you of purposely withholding your orgasm before it happens. Then he leaves the bed to throw out the used condom and promptly returns to initiate cuddles, which is actually just him sliding back onto the bed as close as he can, with plenty of skin-on-skin contact. You keep expecting what you two just did to sink in and feel not right but it doesn't. Not during the afterglow. Not after. Not even after you actually feel like moving from your comfy spot to half-heartedly clean yourself up with one of his towels.

Not that you had the energy left but just for fun, you ask, “Again?”

His answer is vague but you piece together that he would probably not be in the mood anymore after his refractory period was over. Then the look he gives you makes it perfectly clear that if you tell anyone about how long it is, he would murder you on the spot.

“Who am I going to tell?” you ask. “They would just wonder how I know.”

You both fall silent, inwardly embarrassed. Right. Siblings are not supposed to sleep together.

“I'm more likely to tell people you fuss over your hair an unhealthy amount,” you mutter.

Rufus chuckles.

The embarrassment doesn't linger, at least not for him. He quietly beckons you closer with a “come here,” and after some awkward arranging of limbs of two people trying to fit together for the first time, he cuddles you in silence. He holds you a little too tightly, leaving you to wonder if he's trying to make up for lost time. The thought of how long that might be has you embarrassed again.

[demialwrites]

My Tseng x Reader x Rufus is just a matter of "how toxic can these three get"

[demialwrites]

I think for me right now, I need stress relief.

But more seriously, I think there's a good chance he'd be into it. He's a bit strange in his recklessness and has a need to prove himself to people sometimes. I admit there's the more embarrassing urge to knock someone off their pedestal. I think irl, it's not always a good thing. But he's a bad man and he needs it! So I don't feel bad.

I don't understand about this obsession of wanting to slap Rufus Shinra.

I mean, I really didn't think about it when I wrote the slapping scene five years ago.

Does his cheeks attract violence?

Is it collective unconsciousness?

[demialwrites]

Aww, he's so cute. I want to slap him. ❤️

Looking for the nearest flight of stairs to send him down 🥰🥰