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tehrevving · 2 months ago

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Vincent Valentine Week Day 6 - Game

Gonna be honest with you all, this is complete and utter degenerate filth.

18+ Warnings for Cock Warming and Degradation kink.

“It’s just a game, Vin. It’ll be fun,” you smile, trying to sound reassuring. You don’t think he’s convinced. You’re sitting on his lap, your back pressed to his chest, facing away from him but still able to feel all of his movements. His arms are around your waist, lips by your ear with his hair falling over your shoulder. You hold up your phone so you both can see, watching the giant, flashing ‘start’ button currently taking up the entire screen.

He hums uncertainly by your ear, but he trusts you, so he doesn’t voice any complaints. You understand that this might be a lot for him, it might be a lot for you too, but you’re desperate to know more about him. He’s so quiet, rarely talking about himself, which of course you expect, but even during sex he’s quiet about his wants, you’re hoping this might help.

“You remember how this works?” You know he does, you’d only come up with the idea yesterday and he never forgets anything you say, but you want to go through it anyway. “My phone will show an act, or a kink, and then we discuss if it’s a yes, no, or a maybe. Easy.”

He hums again.

“If you get uncomfortable then we can stop.”

He nods behind you, nose brushing against your cheek and hand squeezing around your waist for a moment. You’re pretty certain that means you can start, so you press the button, holding up your phone as it gives a small ding. You feel Vincent shift behind you, lowering his face so he can see the screen.

Hair Pulling

You laugh. “See, it’s not that bad.”

He sighs behind you.

“We’ll go through it anyway,” you grin. “I like it when you pull my hair.”

He clears his throat, clearly embarrassed. “I also like when you pull my hair.”

“You love it when I pull your hair,” you correct with a giggle.

You feel his head dip into your shoulder with mild embarrassment.

“Alright, let’s try another one.” You press the button again.

Cuckolding

Vincent shifts behind you to read the screen. “I do not know what that is,” he says.

You swallow, you’d expected you’d have to explain some of these to him, but you hoped you wouldn’t have to start with something so intense. “It’s usually watching someone else fuck your partner, or being fucked by someone else while they watch.”

“No,” he growls, voice low and possessive, not letting you continue. “You are mine and no one else may have you.” His hands tighten on your waist as his breath ghosts across your ear. He bites down on the shell of it, lips warm as you shiver.

“S-same,” you stammer, he’s completely derailed your thoughts.

“Good,” he purrs by your ear, sounding somewhat relieved. He reaches down and taps the screen of your phone, like merely just looking at the word is offending him.

Cock Warming

Vincent sighs. “I do not know this either.”

“Do you want to guess?”

He shakes his head by your shoulder and you wonder, not for the first time, how someone who is definitely sexually experienced enough, and definitely old enough, can be so unaware of any of this stuff.

“It’s when you,” you pause, trying to work out what to say. “It’s sitting on someone’s cock, putting it inside, not for sex, just to keep it warm.” You realise suddenly that the more you try to explain, the more flustered you get. You try not to give yourself away, to keep your cool. You think you’d be able to, if you weren’t sitting on his lap, able to feel every single one of his breaths, surrounded by his scent with the strength of his thighs underneath you, you’re in the perfect fucking position to do it. “To try and not move, or react.”

He hums and the sound is so fucking dangerous. He can see right through you. “If I were to push inside of you, right now, and we continued with this game as if it was not happening. That would be cock warming?”

You nod, squirming on his lap.

“I have a feeling you might enjoy that,” he muses, biting at your neck, teeth pressing gently to your skin.

You can’t help but whine.

He slides his hand down your body, tracing slowly down your stomach and then lower, cupping your sex. You gasp, unable to stop bucking your hips up into his palm.

“What do you think?” he teases, teeth at your neck while his fingers deftly slip inside your pants. He slides warm, thick fingers over your core, fingers skating over quickly dampening fabric. You can’t resist him when he’s trying to be seductive, you’re never going to be able to. You gasp, throwing back your head and rocking your hips into his touch. He chuckles lowly. “I think we should try.”

You nod frantically, whining when his hand leaves you. He shushes you gently, reassuring as you feel rummaging behind your back. You hear the clicking of his belt buckle and the soft sound of a zip as he undoes his pants. He exhales sharply as his hand wraps around his cock. He strokes it, the movement of his hand unmistakable behind you. Soft groans slip from his lips as he slowly strokes himself to full, agonising hardness.

He bunches your panties to the side with no preamble, lifting your hips with his strength and guiding himself inside. You buck your hips, moaning as he pushes and you sink down onto his length. His teeth press to your shoulder as you both rock carefully, pressing your bodies together until he’s buried inside of you. The soft, lost groan that he lets out once you’re fully seated on his lap is one you’ll never grow tired of.

You feel full, so damn full. The heat of him inside of you is overwhelming, it always is. His breathing is hard by your ear, his arm tight around your waist, holding you still and steady. A twisting warmth floods your nerves, pleasure throbbing between your legs. You want to ride him, you want to buck your hips and beg for his fingers against your clit.

You roll your hips once, wanting sensation. He tuts in your ear, hands squeezing almost impossibly tight at your waist, stopping you from moving. “Continue the game,” he purrs, voice low and very obviously affected even though he’s trying to hide it.

You hold your phone up, fingers shaking slightly, trying not to move too much and jostle against the fullness between your hips.

Degradation

You’re going to scream. This game was supposed to help you learn more about him, but instead it’s throwing you to the wolves.

“I need this explained too,” Vincent murmurs, voice almost a moan. “It made you tight.”

You whine, heat flooding your cheeks. It’s too much, all of this is too much. He’s inside of you, stuffed all the way in and you can’t move. You can feel him everywhere, in between your hips, up in your belly, between your lungs. “C-calling your partner dirty names,” you stammer, speaking quickly in one breath to get it out.

“Is that all?” he questions. “I may need an example.”

You duck your head, embarrassed. You know he won’t like this. He won’t like being called names but you’re not sure how he’ll feel about saying them to you. You try to breathe, try to suck in oxygen, but the heat of his cock steals your air. You can’t move, his hands are so tight on your waist. You can’t relive the building pressure inside of you. You need to move, to grind against something, you need him to touch you, just for a moment. You don’t know how he can stand it, you don’t know how he still seems so damn put together. You know he’s just as affected as you are, but then you realise that of course, he also gets off on denying himself, on pushing himself to be as unaffected as possible. Fuck.

“I-I,” you stammer because even just trying to think of words is too much. “I’m pathetic, a-a filthy whore, your cock is inside of me a-and it’s not enough.” Your entire body tightens. You struggle to speak, pleasure surging between your legs. You try to move, you try to rock but you can’t, he’s holding you too tightly.

Vincent freezes behind you with shock, but his cock jumps, betraying his feelings. You feel ashamed, overheated and turned on. You don’t know if he’ll reply, if he’ll speak to you. It’s fine if he doesn’t but if he does, just the thought that he might has you almost delirious with want.

“It is just play,” he falters, voice cracking with desire. “You know I do not think of you this way, yes?”

You nod, the movement making you surge around him. Pleasure wracks your hips and you fold forward, unable to hold back.

He swallows heavily, hands tightening on your waist. His breathing is rough by your ear and his voice is so deep and desperate. “You are,” he pauses, breath stuttering. “Useless. You have one job, to sit patiently on my c-cock and k-keep it warm. Instead your body is begging for me, like an insatiable s-slut. I am disappointed with you.”

You can’t fucking breathe. Your entire body is frozen. You didn’t think he could talk like this. You think you’ve just had an orgasm, held completely still and without being touched. Everything feels suddenly hazy, like you're underwater, your head spinning. Pleasure courses everywhere, everywhere he’s touching you, surging through your hips as your body clenches on him with no warning. He groans desperately by your ear, the sound broken with desire.

“I-I,” he stammers. You’ve never heard him sound quite so wrecked. “I think we are done with this game.” His hands tighten on your waist. You’re flying. Somehow he lifts you while staying connected to you. You don’t know how he manages to slide you off the couch and onto your hands and knees on the carpet with his cock still pressed inside of you, but he does. He follows you down, folding himself behind you.

His clawed hand digs into your hip, the prickling pain only heightening your desire. His other hand trails up your back and then tangles in your hair, pulling roughly. He yanks your head back as his hips rut forwards. You cry out, completely at his mercy.

Vincent pulls almost all the way out and then slams back into you, the echoing slap of skin on skin overwhelming. “You will take it on your k-knees as punishment for d-disappointing me.” His voice is completely wrecked, breathless, rough. “I am not going to touch you. A pitiful wh-whore like you should have no trouble finding release solely on my c-cock.”

You had no idea he could talk like this. You don’t know where it’s come from but you never want him to stop. You can barely breathe, body stretched out and head pulled back. He starts to fuck you roughly, slamming into you while his fingers bruise your hips. You beg for him, crying out in desperation as you both give into scorching mutual desire.

#vincentweek2024 #vvw24 #vincent valentine #vincent valentine x reader #ffvii #rev writes #my writing

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tehrevving · 2 months ago

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Vincent Valentine Week Day 4 - Monster

“Wake up. Fuck. Please wake up.” You shake Vincent’s shoulder roughly, but there’s no response. He’s slumped sideways against a tree, soaking wet from the rain in the middle of this stupid fucking forest. You can’t lift him, you can’t move him. You managed to drag him under this tree, to futilely attempt to shelter from the downpour, but that’s all that you’ve got in you. He’s too heavy, his limbs too long and awkward for you to lift.

You’d gotten separated from the rest of the group in the rain, the terrain growing slippery while you were stalked by fiends. You’d slipped in the mud and fallen, set upon by an obscene amount of disgusting bug-like things. You shudder, still able to hear the disgusting wet clicking of jaws in your ear. Vincent had ended up transforming, Galian beast clawing the bugs off you with a roar, large body slipping in the dirt and cracking the earth, eventually sending the both of you tumbling down a steep incline that you can’t climb back up.

His massive body had protected you from the fall, but he had crashed to the ground hard, landing on jagged rocks and crying out in pain. He had limped upright, carrying you in the crook of his elbow in an attempt to return to the others, or get out of the rain. It must have taken too much energy to heal the injuries from the fall, or maybe Vincent was weak to begin with, but he had barely moved from the crater he’d made when landing, when he began to transform back.

Vincent had set you down quickly, stepping away as bones cracked and skin slithered. He was filthy, cape brown from dirt and hair plastered limply to his face from the rain. He had looked up at you, exhausted, horrified, upset, and worried, so fucking worried as he’d slumped to the floor moments later, passed out and completely dead to the world.

You’re cold, starting to shiver in your soaked clothes. The rain is showing no signs of letting up and you know it’s going to start getting dark soon. It’s going to be too cold to stay out here in the rain once that happens, and you don’t know how you’re going to survive in the dark. You need to find shelter, somewhere you can light a fire, but you can’t move him.

He’d probably be fine if you left him, but he’d panic if he woke and you weren’t there. He’d fret over your absence and likely end up transforming again. You have no faith in your ability to find shelter either, you’d probably just end up getting more lost. You need to stay with him, you need him to wake up.

“Please,” you beg again, trying to keep your voice down but you’re almost hysterical. “Vincent. I need you. Wake up. Please.” You shake him, kiss his forehead, smack his chest. You try everything you can think of but it’s no use. You know that when he passes out after transforming, he’s out for hours.

“Fuck!” you scream into the rain, giving up and slumping on the ground next to him. You lean against his side, burying your face into your hands and try not to cry.

Something twists beside you, a shifting creak of leather and metal. You turn. Vincent’s eyes are open, wide open, too open. He’s staring right at you but the glow in them is yellow instead of red. You scramble back as he blinks, head tilting sharply towards you, cocking to the side like an animal. There’s something wrong in his gaze, it’s not human. You wonder if one of his other monsters has woken up.

“What is the matter, precious thing?” Vincent says, wrongly. His lips move but you don’t hear his voice. You hear something else, a dark, guttural thing, sliding and hissing over stilted syllables. A mimicry of speech, shaping sounds instead of words.

You scamper back further.

“Do not be afraid,” the voice lilts, darkness curling in the space between you. “Vincent is not here but I can help you.”

“Wa-wake him up,” you stammer, voice weak with uncertainty, with fear.

“No!” it snarls, forcing an aching, full body shiver down your spine. “It is me or nothing.”

You’ve made it angry, you’ve made it angry and you’re completely fucked. Energy surges, a crackling heat that steals the breath from your lungs. Swirling horns of an intangible, sludgy darkness crest over its forehead while shadowy skeletal wings crack against the tree, bark scattering to the ground. You gasp, suddenly recognising the creature.

When Vincent is emotional, when he’s overwhelmed and angry but not ready to transform. When his jaw is clenched and body tight with impending release, sometimes there’s a moment of stillness, a shadow of horns and wings. “I know you,” you say to the creature, to Vincent.

It cracks a foul grin, lips spread too thin, too many teeth exposed. It’s an abomination of a smirk, full of dark, suggestive implications. Its wings beat silently with glee. “Come here, out of the rain,” it purrs, voice sounding more natural, like it’s becoming accustomed to speaking. It lifts a shadowy wing, tilting it up, blocking the rain from a small patch of ground beside it.

You hesitate. You don’t know much about Vincent’s transformations. You’ve only ever met Galian before, and he is kind, thoughtful if not animalistic and instinctual. Vincent has never warned you against trusting his monsters, but he’s also the type to never mention it. You don’t have a choice, you’re still stuck, still stranded and lost. You inhale deeply and slowly make your way towards Vincent’s body, towards the shelter underneath a shadowy, bat wing.

You sit down, feeling energy and heat radiate from Vincent’s body. The wing curls above you, protecting you from the rain and wind. The creature looks down, yellow eyes fixated, pupils slit like a cat’s. You’re terrified, lost and afraid, and you don’t know what to do.

“How can I help you?” Vincent rumbles, voice sounding impossibly close to your ear. You jolt and the creature chuckles lowly.

“I’m lost,” you reply. You don’t know if you should tell this creature anything, but it’s offering help and it’s your only choice at the moment. “We’re lost and it’s raining. I don’t know where to go, I don’t know what to do. We need to find shelter but I can’t carry him.” You take in a deep, shuddering breath. You try to compose yourself, but you can’t stop the tears from falling.

“Do not cry,” The creature hisses, reaching out to you with Vincent’s gauntleted arm. He never reaches for you with that arm, always tries not to touch you with it. You’re not sure what to do, the action is so jarring. The hand presses to your cheek gently, the touch so soft and at odds with everything else that’s happening. Golden fingers carefully brush the tears from your eyes.

The hand recedes and the creature holds it up to its face. It licks your tears from the metal, tongue too long and wide as it laves over sharp fingers. It purrs with contentment, a deep sound tumbling through its chest. “I will find you shelter,” it hisses, “where you can wait for him to awaken.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling mistrustful, but not really having a choice.

“There is a price,” the creature cackles.

Your mouth gapes open, speechless. You have no idea what this creature might want.

Vincent’s face laughs, mouth open too wide, head thrown all the way back. It’s an expression he would never make. A slitted gaze snaps to you, lips peeled back with too wide of a smile. “A kiss,” it coos, voice curling like smoke.

You’re confused.

He snarls. “You kiss him all the time. I want to try.”

You don’t have any other options and a kiss is fine. It’s still Vincent, it’s still his face, his lips. It shouldn’t be any different to kissing him normally. That’s what you try to convince yourself of anyway.

“Alright,” you say, mind made up. You steel your resolve. You’re committed to this now, you’re not going to back down.

The creature laughs and leans towards you. Vincent’s gauntlet hooks underneath your chin, tilting up your head. Yellow, slitted eyes stare down at you, blinking unnaturally, one at a time. A too long tongue darts out to lick full, reddened lips, twisting its length as if to show off. “Call me Chaos, Sweetling,” it purrs, voice laced with innumerable promises as the foreign, broken face of your lover slips closer.

#Vincentweek2024 #vvw24 #Vincent Valentine #Vincent Valentine x reader #ffvii #rev writes #my writing

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