#i am a side sleeper and it causes me much pain and strife but i feel that the solution is a large muscular man between my legs

[gardenofnoah]

“you’re going to hurt yourself like that, my love.”

you startle at the voice over you, having been nearly asleep.

“—uh?”

you turn your head to see Nanami looming over your side of the bed. if you were fully conscious, you would see the tiny look of mischief in his eyes as they roam your body, but you’re not, so you take it as his tendency to mother hen you.

and then he’s pushing you to the middle of the bed despite your whining, climbing in beside you. you try to settle in and find you’re still being moved—he’s on his back, shuffling himself down the bed and pulling one of your legs over his chest. you feel him turn his face into your belly in a move that feels suspiciously like nuzzling.

“what’re y’doin,” you slur, a little petulant at being woken up like this, despite it being well past the time you meant to rejoin the living and despite your own desire to seek out the warmth he’s emitting next to you.

“you’re going to hurt your hip, laying like that,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. he runs a hand up the back of your thigh and over your hip, and you sigh a little bit, comforted by the feeling of him.

“i don’t know how you sleep like that,” he continues, absentmindedly dragging his fingers over your skin, making you shiver every now and then.

“feels good,” you grumble, face shoved into the pillow. talking about your bizarre sleeping position and maybe also the way the rough pads of his fingers leave a trail of warmth in their wake. you think you hear him chuckle softly, and you feel him press a kiss to the skin of your belly, right above the hem of your sleep shorts.

it’s soft, chaste—and then it’s not, and you suck in a breath when you feel him kiss you there again, feeling the tip of his tongue drag along the skin that stretches over your hip bone.

and evidently he hears your sharp inhale, because you feel a strong arm sneak around your lower back, pulling you closer to him.

“was still sleeping, you know,” but it’s lost all of its bite and you’re a little breathless now, fixated on the way his free hand slides up the back of your thigh to brush over the sensitive spot just under the curve of your ass.

“go to sleep then,” he says into the soft of your belly, pressing another kiss, opening his mouth a little wider to catch the skin of it between his teeth. he’s turned into you now, and despite yourself, you drag your leg up from his chest so it’s over his shoulder.

he moves to rest his head against your thigh that’s trapped underneath him, and distantly you think that it is more comfortable like this— his head squeezed between your legs having alleviated some of the pressure against your hip from laying on your side. that thought quickly becomes muddled in your head when you feel him latch on to the skin of your inner thigh that rests against his face.

you whine, hips bucking weakly as you squirm under tongue and teeth—both leaning into and trying to get away from the sting of his bite.

“my sweet love,” he coos, running his tongue over the fresh bruise, placating you. you shiver, pressing your face further into the pillow to try to breathe—to ground yourself despite the heat that curls up your spine. he stops, then, and you peak down at him to find that he’s staring back up at you.

“hi,” you whisper, fighting another shudder at the way his lips pull at the corners into a smirk that looks absolutely sinful on him.

“good morning,” he drawls, deep and far too awake. he rests his chin in the space between your hips, pressing a quick kiss above your pubic bone. your hips buck toward him a tiny bit, and his smirk widens when he feels it.

you bring a hand down to run it through his hair, tangling in the blond strands and scratching at his scalp. he closes his eyes and hums, deep in his chest, nuzzling into your thigh. it makes you smile, and it makes you ache.

“want you, ken,” you murmur, squeezing him gently between your thighs and reveling in the groan he lets out.

“i know, sweetheart,” he coos, hands coming up again to grope whatever skin he can reach and pressing a tiny kiss through your shorts, “i can smell you.”

[mxkosoulclone]

"I was trained...to be a sleeper agent. To replace Cloud Strife to infiltrate Avalanche and destroy them from within. I started to...change...the exposure to the mako changed me. My cells began to accelerate and my wing grew in shortly. Decided they would aim to make me better than the original. The first three as well they would say. To be stronger than the first." He debates speaking more, gazing for a second at the other before instead focusing on the road again. Slowly raising a hand he taps a single digit against the side of the headpiece, where his eyes would be at. "I can see good at night, my jaw is...different. My body was...altered." He mumbles. Growing uncomfortable with the topic he huffs.

"I am a clone turned into...something."

"I was being moved towards more labs. The one underneath the collapsed sector. They would retrieve me at a later date and resume...my progress. I was taken out on missions but...I don't remember them well." Unsure if he wanted to admit another dark fact. His hands grip the dashboard a bit, leaving small grooves despite trying not to grip into it with such strength.

"I do not want to be able to hear him." He says quietly, no doubt meaning the mad scientist responsible for just as much suffering and pain as Shinra caused on a daily basis, perhaps even more and more terrible. He seems disturbed by something, unwilling to say the information but he knows it is important to say it. That Hojo could shut down his control of himself with just a simple word. It was...terrifying.

"Just...drive." He mumbles as he turns his gaze away to the side.

He watches the others actions, the edges of memories and training click in with muscle memory as he quickly gets into the passenger side. About to reach for the seatbelt he pauses when Sephiroth beats him to it. He knew well what it was and why it existed but still he lets out a quiet huff, amusement lingering at the notion of the other taking into consideration his experiences with the lab. He hums quietly before settling in.

"Kind of like a helicopter." He states bluntly. The wing is tucking a bit close to his frame. Trying his best to hide it as he searches the vehicle for any gear. Finding one of the headpieces he easily places it on. If only to fit in and avoid suspicion as they made their way out.

One hand rising towards the visor above Sephiroth's head, pulling it down a bit to keep the light from producing too much glare and to also provide a bit of security from any cameras they may pass. Settling in as he watches the road and more importantly their surroundings, old training and experience from the lab kicking in as he keeps a close eye.