#Happy Birthday Barret | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tehrevving · 1 month ago

Text

Just found out it’s Vincent’s Birthday today so I smashed this out quickly. Enjoy!

Vincent Valentine x Neutral!Reader. Birthday Blowjob

You’re on the Bronco, preparing for another long journey when Cait Sith jumps up in the centre and declares, loudly and surprisingly clearly considering his penchant for using incomprehensible regional slang, that today is Vincent’s birthday.

You turn to the aforementioned man, sitting next to you, noticing that he immediately sinks almost completely into his cloak. So it is true then. You stay quiet, knowing that he hates being the centre of attention, and allow everyone else to congratulate him. Barret slaps him on the back and you can see that Vincent is considering jumping out of the plane. Aerith, Nanaki and Tifa start loudly planning a party for later in the day. You can see how uncomfortable he is, sinking further into himself with every enthusiastic suggestion. You reach out and take his hand, running your fingers gently over gloved knuckles in an attempt to reassure him. He looks at you softly, almost relieved that you’re not joining in. You’ll congratulate him later, but for now you sit quietly with him, listening to the commotion, while trying to think of something you can get for a present with such short notice.

Aerith has set up a small party in the boys room at the inn, her idea being that eventually Vincent would appear to sleep, even if it took all night. It’s just some snacks and two cakes with a single blue banner stating “It’s a boy!” because she couldn’t find anything that said happy birthday at the tiny nearby corner store. The entire group mills around awkwardly, enjoying the excuse for celebration, but honestly, more enjoying the excessive amount of wine.

“You need to go find him,” Aerith pleads, your hands clasped in her own. “If he doesn’t show up, then all of this is for nothing.”

“I won’t be able to find him if he doesn’t want to be found,” you state, finishing off your second glass of wine. You need it to deal with all of the suggestive and expectant stares levelled in your direction.

“What if we pretend you’ve been injured?” Aerith ponders. “I’m sure Tifa could gently beat you up.”

“How about no,” you reply, toying with your empty glass.

Aerith claps her hands suddenly, face bright. “Yuffie could make a doppelganger of you, and then we could beat up the doppelganger.”

You shake your head and hand her your glass with a sigh. “Alright. Fine. I’ll go look for him.”

Aerith pumps her fist in the air as you turn and walk out of the room. You pause outside the door for a moment, wondering where to start your search. You’re sure he’s not hiding too far away. You decide to check that roof first, that’s usually where he hides, and usually where he takes you to get some time alone. You’ll talk to him, see how he feels about everything and try to convince him to make an appearance.

You climb the stairs up to the highest floor of the inn and then swing through the emergency door leading up to the roof. You step out into the cool night air, this town is small and not too lit up, so there are lots of stars visible in the sky. The water tanks are up on the roof, so there’s many places to hide. You can’t immediately spot Vincent so you go searching, you know his typical favourite haunts.

You round a corner and finally see a hint, a small flutter of red fabric. You lean around the water tank and see him, sitting leant against one of the roof supports, legs dangling over the edge.

“Found you,” you giggle, walking up to him. Vincent turns his head back and inclines his head slightly, inviting you to sit next to him. You sit down, leaving a reasonable amount of space between you, more than you’d usually leave. He’s likely to be emotionally volatile and you don’t want to spook him. He turns to you as you sit down, face hidden and almost unreadable. You kick your legs over the abyss. “You would have hidden better if you didn’t want to be found.”

He hums noncommittally, but now you know he’s not actually trying to hide, that he’s willing to have his mind changed.

“They just want an excuse to celebrate, you know? It’s not specifically about you, even if Aerith insists.”

“I am not the type for parties,” he shrugs.

“I know that’s not it,” you reply. “It’s not that it’s a party, or that it’s specifically for you. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

He turns, expression tight. You've hit the nail on the head. You don’t know that much about his past or about what’s happened to him, but you know that he hates talking about it, hates even thinking about it.

“How old do you think I am?” he asks, hiding an emotion in his voice that you can’t quite place.

You hum exaggeratedly, pretending to seriously ponder the question. You honestly have no idea but by now you’re pretty sure that he’s older than you think. “Mid thirties?”

He gives a sad smile. “Today, I am 57.”

You can’t stop your jaw from hitting the floor. You know that his physiology is strange, that he was experimented on, that he doesn’t need to eat or breathe, but you didn’t realise he had stopped ageing, not like that. He can’t be that old, it makes no sense. But then you think about it. He had worked with Hojo in the Shinra manor, you’d just assumed that hadn’t been that long ago, but the manor is old, and Hojo had looked younger in all of those holograms.

“A birthday is pointless when you don’t age,” he says, sounding sad, not necessarily upset, but forlorn, uncertain. If you let him he’ll just end up brooding endlessly and you don’t want that. You want to try to cheer him up, even if it seems pointless.

“Well then it’s a good thing I didn’t get you anything,” you reply cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

He turns to look at you, a hint of surprise on his face, he wasn’t expecting your reaction.

You say the date of your birthday and he cocks his head at you. “My birthday,” you add. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you.” You say the age you’re turning too, just so there’s no secrets between you both.

He smiles. “I won’t forget that.”

You nod, grinning. “I know. I expect an awesome gift.”

“Surely just my presence should be enough,” he teases.

You smile, glad that you’ve managed to cheer him up, not quite enough to come to the party though, so you decide to initiate the next phase of your plan. “I know I said I didn’t get you anything, but I do still have a present for you.”

You watch as his face falls slightly, confusion and uncertainty crossing his features. You sit up quickly, looking around the roof and finding a short ventilation duct, that will do. You don’t want to leave him for too long, you don’t want him to get lost in his own head again. You reach out your hand. “Stand up.”

He pauses for a moment but then stands, not taking your hand. You know that he trusts you, but you’re still often blown away by just how much. You wrap yourself around his arm and lead him to the duct. “Sit,” you order and he does, looking extremely confused. You gently pull his knees apart, stepping in between them. You’re slightly taller than him like this and it’s fun, as you pull his cowl down slightly and lean down to kiss him. He returns the gesture, lips soft and warm.

You pull away with a smirk. You can tell from his expression that he’s worked out what’s going on. You silently sink to your knees, resting your hands on his thighs while you pause for a moment, waiting for permission.

He doesn’t tell you no, doesn’t tell you to stop. He stays quiet as your hands slide up his thighs, brushing over his crotch. He lets out a shuddering breath and you grin, hands moving up to his hips, to the belt holding his pants up.

You slowly undo his belt, pulling the leather tight before releasing it. The clicking of metal sounds almost deafening in the silence of the night, but you don’t care. You slowly slide his fly down, watching as his cock, still covered and semi-hard, begins to poke out from the parted fabric. You lick across the head of it, wetting the dark fabric of his underwear. He groans softly.

You hold the waistband of his underwear, pulling it lower slowly, somewhat attempting to unwrap him like a present. You hook the fabric underneath the base of his cock, almost fully hard now and starting to leak at the tip. You look up at him. He’s watching you intently, breathing elevated and eyes blown with desire. You smirk up at him and then lean forward to press your tongue to his tip while making eye contact. You feel him shudder.

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his shaft, pumping a few times to spread your saliva around heated skin. You tilt your hand closer, angling him towards your mouth. You lean forward to take him, but you’re hit with a sudden horrifying realisation.

“Holy shit I’m fucking a senior citizen,” you exclaim, momentarily distracted.

Vincent grunts, clearly unimpressed.

“An umm, hot senior citizen,” you hastily correct, taking him quickly all the way down your throat so that he can’t retort.

Vincent moans, a deep, throaty thing as you sink down on his cock. You bob your head up and down, covering his shaft with saliva as you slowly get used to the thickness on your tongue. His cock is long, delicious and makes your jaw ache in the absolute best way. He groans, metal shifting as he digs his fingers into his thigh as your nose brushes against the dark curls at his base. You swallow a few times, hollowing your cheeks and making him forget all about your previous comment.

You fall into an easy rhythm, he’s easy to pleasure and so very sensitive. You wrap your hand around his base, fingers moving gently as you slide the rest of his shaft between your lips. You rest your other hand on his thigh for support, feeling it tense and shake. He’s trying to be quiet but struggling, soft gasps and deep groans escaping from his throat. You sink back down, humming, feeling his hips buck gently up into you. You feel warmed up and ready for the next step.

You pull off him and Vincent whines, clearly missing your touch. You smile, you’re not going to leave him hanging for long. You reach out and take his hand from his thigh. He allows it, leather shifting as you bring it to the back of your head. “Because this is for your birthday,” you grin. “You can control the pace.”

He looks confused, overwhelmed and unsure, but his fingers tighten in your hair all the same. You go slowly, relaxing into his touch. The pressure on the back of your head increases ever so slightly and you carefully slide your lips down his cock, easing him into being in control. You bob your head with his tentative movements, sucking and licking until he grows more confident. You’re not going to break and you know that he knows that, deep down anyway.

His fingers grow more certain, the pressure still gentle but much firmer as he pushes your head up and down his cock. You tease him as much as you can, hollowing your cheeks as he pulls upwards and sliding your tongue across him when he pushes down. You squeeze reassuringly at his thigh, trying to tell him that you’re fine, that you’re enjoying yourself, that he can go harder if he wants.

He pushes your head down, gloved fingers tangling in your hair, but doesn’t pull back, sliding your lips down his cock until you’re pressed to the base. He cuts off your air but you don’t mind, moving your tongue and trying to swallow around his thick head. You feel him moan, feel his hips buck up as he tries to push just a little bit further into you. You start to choke but you push the feeling down, relaxing into him until he pulls your head back up with a shuddering breath.

He pulls your head all the way back up, tightening slightly on your hair to angle you to face him. He looks down at you, bottom lip swollen and bitten, pupils blown dark with the slightest hazy glowing ring. You nod at him, letting him know that you’re okay, that he doesn’t need to check in with you. You press a quick kiss to the head of his cock and then take him back between your lips, moving slowly until he takes over once again.

You can tell he’s getting close, his cock beginning to jump between your lips as sticky salt coats the back of your throat. His breath is hitching, small gasps and whines hitting your ears. His hips are bucking gently, pressing up into you in a soft but barely controlled rhythm. You’re addicted to the sounds that he makes, to how his body responds to you. His hand on your head is less controlled, rougher. You adore it.

You work harder, you want to make him come. You want to feel him spill down your throat. You want to hear his muffled, desperate moans and soft begging. You can feel the moment he loses control, heat suddenly flaring around him. That’s when you pull back, pushing firmly against his hand on your head until he relents.

He allows you up, looking down at you with a lost, pathetic expression. He’s breathing heavily, almost panting. You watch his cock, swollen dark, pulse in the bottom of your vision. You grin up at him, mischief clear in your eyes. “Promise to come to the party.”

You watch expressions play over his face, watch his brain struggle to understand your words. You feel a little bit bad, he gets so overwhelmed when he’s close, this is a mean thing to do.

“Anything you want,” he moans, voice breathy. “Anything. Please. Please. I need you.”

You smile up at him and then sink back down. You pick up a firm, intense rhythm. You know what he likes, what he can’t resist. His fingers tighten in your hair as his hips start to buck up into you, trying to push as much of himself as he can between your lips. You hum, encouraging him and he whimpers. He says your name softly through gritted teeth, the tone of it fucking addicting. His whole body tenses, thighs shuddering and breath catching as he comes down your throat.

You swallow, moving your head and tongue, drawing out his pleasure as his fingers pull tight at your hair but don’t control your pace any longer. His orgasms are always so intense and you guide him through it, barely even tasting his release as you take him as deep as you can. Eventually he pulls you back with a shuddering whine and lewd pop as his cock slips from your lips. He looks down at you, expression sated, eyes full of adoration.

You start to tuck him back into his pants, enjoying the way that he hisses with overstimulation. He’s too much fun to tease. You stand up, knees and jaw protesting, but you can manage. You lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday,” you whisper.

He turns his head, expression so relaxed and loose. It’s a rare look for him and honestly you can never get enough of it. He smiles at you, looking right into your eyes. You notice the exact moment that his expression shifts.

“That was a dirty trick,” he says, still slightly out of breath, voice rough.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug. “I also would have kept going if you’d said no.”

His brows furrow while he thinks back to your words. You can’t help but smile when he realises that he’s trapped.

“You can have a few minutes to pull yourself together,” you grin, “but then we have to go. I want cake and I’m worried that Cid will eat all of it.”

Vincent sighs and you stop joking, for just a second anyway.

“I know Vin, I know.” You reassure him. “It’s honestly just a small thing. Everyone’s probably too drunk by now to remember it’s your birthday. I’ll stand next to you the whole time, even hold your hand if you want. They’re your friends and they just want to spend time with you.”

He leans his head on your shoulder and exhales a shaky breath. You press your cheek to his hair and wait for him.

“Alright,” he says eventually, standing up, long legs trembling slightly as he struggles to balance. “But only because you would never forgive me if you missed out on cake.”

#Vincent Valentine #Vincent Valentine x reader #FFVII #Vincent valentines birthday #rev writes #my writing

72 notes · View notes