I Felt That "fuck" On A Personal Level

I felt that "fuck" on a personal level

how aboooooout either some comfort where one of them gets hurt, or vincent teaches mc how to shoot???

Though it surprises Vincent that you want to learn how to use a gun from him, he’s willing enough to show you with Quicksilver. Going through the basics is simple enough, how to hold it and work the safety, check the chamber, never aim at anything unless it's your target, finger off the trigger until ready to shoot, and so on. Common sense things, though he goes over them with all due seriousness.

The part you're more interested in is when he grows annoyed with your (maybe purposely bad) stance and wraps himself around you from behind, like wearing his cloak with the added bonus of him being in it still. His chest ghosting over your back, arms drifting over top of yours to corrall them, and the gentle nudges of his boots to put your feet in position are all pleasing... but the best part is still his head tucked in next to yours, his voice a warm murmur in your ear as he talks you through aiming.

"Pull back on the slide now," he tells you, a soft intake of breath that implies he has more to say going unnoticed as you're too quick to follow his instruction - and your impatience is to your detriment when the mechanism rudely pinches down on your skin running from thumb to palm. "Fuck!"

Though you start to drop the gun, Vincent’s hand is already catching it and swiftly securing the safety before he holsters it, and in a heartbeat he's in front of you to take your injured hand up in his grasp.

"I was going to warn you of that," he states wearily. Through the pained grimacing you give him a sheepish look.

He returns your look with a raised brow, then sighs as he casts a Cure to soothe the angry red swelling that was already starting up. That part is necessary, but what's unnecessary is the gentle kiss he presses there afterward, the tip of his nose brushing over your skin. But you're not about to complain when his affection is such a rare gift. A little pain was worth it.

Sparring

Reader with some kind of position that sees action. Turk? Soldier? Catches a bored Rufus' eye.

Now that's a man I'd like to toy with, you thought when you saw your boss smile. You covered your mouth in embarrassment, as if the words had written themselves across your face. Don't hold your breath, you told yourself, and returned to focusing on your job.

Roughly a week a half later, President Rufus cast you an appraising side glance. "I'm bored. I heard you're good. Let's see. Meet me in the training simulator in an hour."

Luck dropped an opportunity on you. Slightly overwhelmed but determined to make this a worthwhile match, your muscles tensed in your chosen stance. There was no need to be so serious (the bullets wouldn't be real) but you couldn't shake that it would be wise to impress him. If you prooved a worthy opponent, maybe you would get this opportunity again. As you stared at each other, you felt an invisible Tseng prickle your back, judging this endeavour.

"Stop playing around and letting the president slack off," he might say.

Okay, but are you allowed to say no to said president?

Rufus caught you off guard initially with his unusual and calculating style. After thirty seconds of being evasive, you started to see a pattern in his movements. This time, it wasn't enough. He had you on the ground after a minute with a muzzle pointed down at you.

"Not bad," he pronounced, pulling the gun back, "for a first try."

Before you could jump up and demand a second round, he turned and confidently strode out of the simulator.

Just as his words implied, he let you have many more "tries" after that embarrassing defeat. He had a few more tricks up his sleeve but that was surpsingly it. It was how practiced he was and the way he made blasting around look so easy that was the intimidating part. After the initial caution of fighting the actual president wore off, you settled into analyzing and reacting accordingly. Slowly, you became more aggressive than defensive. It was, however, difficult not to rush at him head-on and forcibly remove that smirk of his with your own hands. Just seeing him on the ground once, just once. You would stand over him, stealing that removed smirk and wearing it yourself.

This 'playing' with the president went on for a while. Tseng even took notice and warned you not to hurt your mutual boss too badly. Actually, he wasn't the only one who noticed. The especially exciting recordings of your sparring sessions had begun to circulate Shinra Tower. The rank and file and executives were gossiping alike. Thankfully, you weren't aware. The pressure of an audience would have thrown you off your trajectory to knocking the arrogant man on his ass.

Before too long, you had an idea. Your own trick. You let the next session play out as usual. Then, when he grabbed your shoulder to counter your attack, you turned it around. You ignored the presumptuous and pleased shiver and threw him, hard. He landed with a grunt but was already about to retaliate. Thankfully, you had been practicing with Rude on the side. You pinned the arm holding the shotgun. Just to make doubly sure, you flipped him onto his stomach and pinned both arms behind his back. Firmly, but gently--Tseng could thank you later--you kneeled with your full weight.

A few long seconds passed. "I yield," he said flatly.

You let him go. He got up and dusted himself off.

"Now, that's what I'm looking for." His usual smirk returned. Your confusion prompted him to explain (but not really explain), "You're getting a promotion."

What, you mouthed to yourself.

He left. The next day you got an offer for the position of the president's personal bodyguard.

SO

This ended up a bit all over the place but the general idea remained intact

You have Tseng, kneeling in the General Affairs, Auditing office. He wears a collar and leash. The leash is thrown over his shoulder.

You hardly know what to do with yourself now that you're here. Actually, you'd be content to just stare all day. You doubt he would appreciate that. Yet, he didn't fidget. He stared back at you as if daring you to make a move.

He scoffed. "If you're in over your head-"

"I'm not!"

He smirked like he didn't believe you.

"Stay still," you order.

You shed your clothes quickly, as you're still in the office and this shouldn't be dragged out. Under, you're wearing a matching set of black satin panties and bra. The uncomfortable kind, that you bought and wore only for him to see.

He gives your body a one-sided smile as if to say, Not bad.

You are going to put that insolent mouth to use. You slip off the panties and throw them at his face. They hit him between the eyes, making him flinch, then drop to the floor. You step forward and hook a leg over his shoulder. You press him to you with a tight squeeze.

"Get to work."

For a moment you think he might argue again but then he dives right in. He starts sucking like you've trained him before. You whimper and grab his shoulder for support. He tries to hold your hips to help balance, while sneaking a quick squeeze of your ass. You swat his hands away.

"Nope, no touching."

You make sure he watches you unhook your bra to touch your breasts exactly how you like. You can touch but he can't. He glares at you but he doesn't stop. Settles for staring at how good your breasts look in the lace bra.

You cup the back of his head with your hand as you come, nearly toppling over. You regain your footing and find a more placid Tseng. He got a taste of you and he's probably hoping for his turn. Wasn't he a good pet?

You kneel down and unzip his trousers, to pull out a very hard erection. A grower, but he's at full attention now. You squeeze his cock, testing. He swallows a groan. He looks down at you with lust-drunk eyes and a slight grimace. Fuck it, you think. He can't look that good and not expect you to suck his soul out of his dick. You take him all the way in, squeezing the base.

"Too much! Slow down!"

His pleading tone has the opposite of the intended effect. In no time at all, you pull his orgasm from him. Normally, you'd ask where he wants to come but then there would be an impractical mess to clean. You make sure to swallow everything before giving him one last kiss to top off his pleasure.

"That was too fast,* he growls, then bites his lip, wishing he hadn't complained like a bad pet.

"That was your punishment," you reminded him. "You're lucky you got your dick sucked at all, right?"

He nodded, cowed.

You place your palm against his cheek. "Remember, don't bow to me. If it was my choice, you wouldn't have to bow to anyone."

He leans into your cheek and nods again.

"Okay, we're done! Stand up."

Upon standing and redressing, Tseng watches you patiently while you unhook the leash. You undo the collar and he pockets it inside his blazer. He straightens said blazer. He has a more serene air about him now. But seeing him back in work-mode reminded you why you were actually here.

"Oh!" You exclaimed. "I have some paperwork to do for you."

"Make sure it's accurate," he says evenly.

You're already halfway out the door, calling, "Yeah, Boss!"

probably gonna finish made for you at last and post chapter 4 along with the gb tifa by sunday and after that, hopefully finish dead languages. I'm probably not going to write anything at all for the next week or two following.

i might finish tseng's kinky list though. that? i'll make time for

I'd kill for a bloody Rufus

A Freak

I often think ahead to what's gonna happen in game three. Maybe Tseng could be healed when the time comes to go to the Northern Crater? I certainly wish!

Blood play with Rufus and Turk Reader

Sitting on the ground of the maze at the Northern Crater, Rufus is annoyed at the cut across the chest of his coat and shirt. It's not about the exorbitant cost of replacing it but how long it'll take to make. Looking closer at it, the cut to the skin underneath isn't that deep. There isn't enough blood oozing through for gravity to pull downward.

"I'm sure you've seen worse," he says.

"Still. Let me take a look," you say.

Because first aid is the least of your training and you're not interested in the 'friendly reminder' from Tseng if you don't. You kneel between his legs, one of them bent at the knee. Being fussed over doesn't faze Rufus. It seems to put him further at ease. It makes you almost forget he nearly had his chest ripped open five minutes ago before you finished off the last fiend. You tug on the edge of the ripped fabric to get a better look. Meanwhile, he notes that his phone's screen is thoroughly cracked and puts it another pocket--one that's not ripped.

"You see?" he insists, raising his eyebrows. "It's nothing."

"You're right."

Thinking that's settled, Rufus reaches for his shotgun to examine it. His movement is interrupted by a stinging pain and he grunts. Perplexed, he frowns at your bloodied thumb.

As you examine the tacky blood stamped on your thumb like it's something thoroughly mundane, your phone rings, chirping a midi version of the Shinra theme. You use your clean hand to answer the call.

"Yes, Sir?"

Rufus's attention shifts to figuring out what Tseng is saying, ears straining to pick up the mellow, yet stiff, tones on the other end of the line as you get him up to speed. Several fainter voices in the background are no doubt Rude, Reno, and Elena. You had gotten separated from the main group.

"The president's fine. Just a scratch. No need to fuss so much, Sir."

You bring your thumb to the hollow of Rufus's cheek, painting a wide stripe that promptly dries down to a browner hue. It's just for a moment that he's struck dumb, eyes unfocused. The well-oiled cogs spin furiously, then come to a neat halt.

"Two can play this game," he says with an air of confidence.

He grabs your wrist and lowers his head just enough to cover your thumb with his mouth. Tseng's voice fades into the distance because of the slivered pair of blue eyes are daring you to make your next move.

"Fine. I'll send you the coordinates soon," you say to the stern voice calling your name through the phone before hanging up.

Maybe you will get that telling-off, after all. You deem that unimportant but because the present is much more fun. You grip the president's pants and pull. He falls all the way onto his back and you step forward, kneeling over his midsection.

You wait, counting three heartbeats to see if he'll stop you. He continues to patiently watch.

"Sit still. This will hurt." You remember to add, "Sir."

Using his blood like red paint, you dip your fingertips in his cut and brush them in curves around it. Rufus squints his eyes and presses his lips together, tolerating the pain well. When you're finished, you do what you can to wipe your fingers off on your suit He takes that as a cue to examine at your 'work of art.'

It's an upside-down heart that looks correct when he looks down at it.

The president tuts, nonetheless appearing flattered, giving you with a lopsided smile. "You. Are. A. Freak. Aren't you?"

You can't deny that. You plant your hands on your thighs to stand up.

"No, you don't," Rufus says, pulling you down into a firm kiss.

The silly image that partially inspired this under the cut 😂

We got the sephgeal meetcute before gta 6