Rev It Up!

So prefacing that Vincent's monsters are sentient and intelligent, but can't necessarily speak or express themselves clearly.

Gigas comes out for the first time, and seems very lost and confused. You start slowly, with a soft, gentle approach, "oh you're a new monster it's alright I won't hurt you," and he's so fucking big but very tentatively reaches for you, like touching your hands, arm etc, being very careful. You notice that it can make noises, and that they're almost words, so then try the throat thing cause that was so fucking cute omggggggggg.

Anyway, he then works out that he can speak, he already knows words, but maybe you don't know that, but he has never said them before. So, it becomes a very slow, soft body worship of touching and comparing differences between bodies and naming the body parts. "Hand, cheek, eyes, nose," etc.

And then, the piece de resistance........

"Chest," you say as giant hands hover just above your own.

The creature frowns, dragging his hand back and placing it over his own heart. "Flat," he says, almost sounding offended.

"Yes," you say softly. "Yours is flat and mine isn't. Good spot."

His brow furrows, face scrunched up in intense thought. "Chest," he says, pronouncing the syllables so fucking carefully as his large hand moves to hover just above your chest. "Want to lick."

I got paid way too much to write this on the clock lmaooooo. Enjoy

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Vincent teases, voice low in the heated air around your bodies. You’re riding him, riding his thigh, out of breath, sweaty, desperate, so fucking close but struggling to get there.

“i just- I just wanted to tease you,” you grit out, fingers digging into his arm for support, for leverage, to try and get more friction on the smooth leather of his pants. You’re naked, dripping on him, making a mess of the fabric, while he’s fully clothed and looks completely composed, although you know better.

“And you are,” he praises, slightly out of breath just from watching you. His teeth are gritted, jaw tight, eyes shining, lust and want etched clearly on his face, but he won’t give you what you want, not until you soak his thigh. “You know what you need to do,” he purrs, “and then you can have—“ he trails off but it doesn’t matter, you know what he means.

His crotch is bulging, deforming his pants, all you want to do is touch it, grind on it, stain the leather while you force him to make a mess of himself, but his grip is tight on your hips, forcing you to grind on his thigh, not allowing you to move where you want to be. You’d be able to cum effortlessly, if he’d just let you press against the tight bulge of his crotch, and he knows it too, knows why you’re struggling.

“Show me that I am more to you than just that part,” he hisses, trying to tease but you know that is actually a bit of a deep seated insecurity for him. You were considering being a brat, knowing it would take nothing to convince him to let you have what you want, but now, fuck now you’re going to need to follow through.

It’s the first time that he’s truly boneless against you, where there’s no pretence of him cuddling to soothe you, or to make sure you’re comfortable, where his focus isn’t on you. Where he’s relaxed in a different way to after sex, where his eyes are glassy and he’s sated and his focus isn’t quite there, but he’d be like that around anyone, if he let them in.

This is different, this is every inhibition gone, every intrusive thought, every moment where he finds himself not worthy stripped away. He’s exhausted and can’t think of anything but being where he feels safe and warm and secure.

He wants to look down, to lift his head and watch you work, watch you enjoy him, but he worries. He knows what it looks like, to watch someone going through the motions, disinterested, and it kills the mood, makes it impossible to enjoy. It would destroy him to see you like that, after all of the trust he’s given you.

"The heating didn't come on," you whine, voice still thick with sleep. You're warm under the thick covers, the little spot you've been lying in toasty, and the rest of the bed warm from Vincent's much more substantial body heat, but your nose is cold.

He groans softly from beside you, eyes fluttering as you pull him completely from sleep, he's still not really good at waking up. "I will handle it," he says, regretfully, brushing hair from his eyes as he slowly extract himself from the covers, ignoring the way your hands pathetically reach out for him.

He's substantially more awake when he returns, moments after a groaning, rattle echoes through the room. You reach out for him, sliding against him in a cuddle as he gets back under the covers.

"I missed you, you were gone forever-- holy crap your clothes are freezing!!"

He hums with amusement, allowing you to flinch back from him as far as you can, while you rub at your body underneath the covers in mock shivers. "That is why I got up to turn the heating on."

Inching slowly towards him, you come up with a plan. "You should take them off.

He tilts his head.

"Your freezing cold clothes. You should take them off, so we can cuddle."

"So we can cuddle?" He replies, deadpan as usual.

"Mhmm," you reply, everything else already forgotten as you inch closer to him, thick blanket already reducing the impact of his short jaunt into the cold.

does he prefer to give or get them? quick pecks, all over the face?

vincent our beloved 🥹🩷

-🐩

Vincent ,my beloved who deserves to be kissed and cuddled literally every hour of every day until he's a blushy, overstimulated mess that's still quietly begging for more affection.

Vincent likes giving passionate kisses, pulling you close and making you light headed and dizzy against him. He doesn't need to breathe quite as much as you do, so he can draw you right to the brink. He loves wrapping you in his arms when you stumble and fall into him afterwards, a true physical reminder of the affect that he has on you.

His favourite types of kisses to receive are casual ones. He still struggles so much with understanding that he's wanted, so when for literally no reason you're there, pulling him down by the collar and smooching his cheeks in reassurance, it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and really helps with the hollow depression that he usually feels.

Fully agree Anon, he might be skinny, but he's definitely still got some bulk. Do you mind if I take this ask and go full Rev lore with it, cause I kinda want to lmaoooo.

Just could not bring myself to look at my long fic, so did something, I dunno angsty but bittersweet for Vinny because I am feeling emotions today for some reason lol

Held aloft on beautiful, skeletal wings that beat lazily in the wind, the world burns underneath you. It has been millennia, an utterly uncountable amount of time, and the end has finally arrived.

Vincent, walking you to your door, knowing this has been a date, and certainly not the first one, but being too chivalrous and stubborn to admit it.

You, standing at your porch asking him to come in for a drink.

Vincent, refusing politely, stammering like a gentleman. Adorable and naive.

So you grab him, pull him down by the tie and carefully press your lips to his. Just a brush, just a taste. “Come inside for a drink,” you say more firmly, and he nods eagerly cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

You make him a drink, whisky neat or something, sit down next to him on the couch and clink your glass with his. He can barely look at you, bringing his gaze up and then averting it once you notice him staring. He’s adorable, and you like it but clearly, you’re going to need to take the initiative here.

“I’m just going to be forward with you,” you say to him, gently but firmly, waiting until he nods before continuing. “I like you Vincent, and I think you like me too. I like you alot and right now all I want to do is sit on your lap and kiss you until I’m dizzy.”

Vincent doesn’t reply, not verbally anyway. He just brings his drink to his lips with a slightly trembling hand. He downs the whole thing at once, head tilted back, throat working, alluring as fuck as he gathers courage before putting the glass away to the side.

“Stop,” you mumble against his lips, struggling to pull away. “The food will burn”

“I don’t care.”