#//VERGIL WHEN I CATCH YOU VERGIL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mooshs-crack-headcanons · 10 months ago

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Hey how are ya doing? Would you write how the DMC guys (Dante, Vergil, and Nero.. V if you wanna) react to their s/o smacking their butt? Does it lead to sexy fun time? 😏 It is at any time or only in private? Is it playful or heavy handed. 🥵💦 As always if you don't feel comfortable with it don't worry about it. Have a great day Rockstar!

Hello, I've been good lately sorry this request took so long but thank you for asking it's a pleasure to see you again in my inbox!

(This work includes gender neutral!reader)

(NSFW contents under the cut)

Dante

It does take Dante surprise at first; your hand stealthily coming across to give his ass a hard slap while he was bent over the bar at the back of his shop to grab one of the more expensive bottles to celebrate a relatively hard job well done one day. Usually it's always him dealing out the teasing but when that sudden yelp buckles out of his throat and he looks at you to see you only smug with that cocky grin it definitely rattles something in him and what it rattles goes straight to his dick. He just sure hopes that you can finish this little game you started.

Next when he catches you off guard your standing at the desk on the phone with Lady, going over the details of your up coming job that would take you out of town for a few days together, elbow propped so you can rest your head on your plam while your eyes search the letter the client gave and more importantly to a certain scheming son of Sparda; your ass free and out in the open, unexpected. All he has to do is trick over for payback to resume; the sudden strike causing an embarrassing noise from you that you can just hear Lady on the other line silently question but then seemingly figuring put it's some dumb Dante's doing before continuing on asking more details of the job. Heat swells in your face as you look back at Dante who returns your intial smugness and shit eating grin, making it very clear that he's playing your game - a game you were intending to win.

Back and forth you two go; at the most unexpected points surprising each other with sudden spanks to get that interesting shades of cheeks and noises from once another just to see which one would break first; to see who couldn't take this teasing game anymore and just beg to be thrown and be used by the other.

Interestingly it's Dante to break first.

He's the one almost in fucking tears as he runts and grinds against you to the desk; cock so deep inside you he can barely keep his head on straight. His moans are so low yet so desperate as you thrust back into him your hole squeezing ever so tightly, controlling his pace, the sound of your name leaving his lips is so fucking attractive it's stupid.

And to put salt on the wound of his loss; reach around and give him one more slap that will instantly flip on a switch. Whatever pace you had? Forget it. He fights through and jackhammers even faster and harder to a point it shatters a crack somewhere on the wooden surface below you. I hope you like losing function of your voice because that's exactly how it's going to be the moment pulls out and he finishes on your stomach, leaving you breathless and reeling from all your previous highs.

When your done with after care and such and Dante places you on a bed instead of a desk, he congratulates you (sportsmanship and all, you know?) in between breathy kisses and only a few times jokingly complains about his ass hurting that you 'won too hard' and that you should 'take it easy during the rematch.'

Rematch? That word catches your interest that you can't help but question him on; it gets you a chuckle and a conniving look behind pale eyes.

"Yeah, a rematch. Though do be warned: I do got an ace up my sleeve that I don't think I'll be loosing with this time. What that be? Eh, you'll just have to find out what that'll be yourself - won't you?"

Vergil

One of two different outcomes will happen if you so happen to catch Vergil off guard with this action either depending on your surroundings. One; your in privacy and no one's around to see the light flush that spreads across his cheeks up to his ears and the surprised gasp that leaves his lips - then he'll only turn around to you and stumble through a light scolding that he could have accidentally hurt you with Yamato or worse but dropping the matter and it slowly becoming the topic of his late night thoughts about the sudden touch and the spark in him that it caused. Or two, the foolish but more slow but direct to go horny option; do it while the crew (especially his brother or Nero) is around.

Now going with the second option be fully aware that he's not going to talk to you for a few days after it, the foolishness of the act leaving him unable to talk to you (Vergil translation; he's just embarrassed and doesn't know how to directly approach you about it right away) But when he does it it's surely a surprise exactly what he does when he comes back around.

He is absolutely rough with you when he yanks your hair back in a fistful and in his smooth voice ask if you could ever so kindly repeat your words more clearly as his other hand snaps down onto your ass with that mind numbing sting as you repeat the number through bitten lips.

Yup, payback is a real charmer.

All the while he thrusts into you so deep you can even comprehend how the hell numbers work any more as you try to focus yourself but struggle to keep up with how pleasure just seeps into your whole being with each bounce to your sweet spot that's only lit a blaze with every smack of your lover's hand.

It's definitely intense; with all of his teeth marks tattooing the skin of your neck as the symphony that his Vergil's moans and growls pressed right against your ear as he takes you. And all of this just because what? You playfully spanked him in the van? Definitely were going to have to keep this one in the play book.

You can barely move any of your limbs with you're both done. Vergil holds your fucked out body in a possessive yet soft embrace as he deeply buries his face into your neck. It's nice, very nice. Though if you try to tease him in any way he'll look back up with you with a glare - but not just any glare; one where he tries his best to seem intimidating but fails and falls right through when you can clearly see with his flushed face and frown that he's just embarrassed. It's very cute, although if you're way past your limit I would advise not teasing any further. Because who knows; you might find your legs to be quickly spread apart for a fairly intense round two.

Nero

His reaction will be immediate. His face will turn completely red all the way to his ears as he turns to face you not even able to form any words - just turned on gibberish. His reaction is something you can't help find your giggling because of how red he can be to just playful teasing but unknownst to you, you just awakened a kink and it's something that keeps his dick hard and awake at night for weeks afterwards.

It becomes something he fixates on; the thought, the memory, the sudden spark of pain that twists into pleasure is just...the need and desire for you to do it again becomes to much for him. Well with Nero being Nero and his insecurities to really ask for things because he feels he can be a burden at times to deal with and his abandonment issues starts talking telling him he doesn't deserve it - if he asks for too much you'll leave him, so he doesn't tell you this new desire of his. He just keeps it to himself, just a fantasy he can get himself off too when he's alone but there becomes a point where it just swells in his chest to much and he just succumbs to it.

The laundry room in Kyrie's apartment is rather a tight fit, but that doesn't matter any once you find yourself shoved inside there and your lips smothered in kisses and moans against you as your pushed back onto the dryer.

Bites litter his flesh a bright flushed pink as you tug and pull on the abused skin as you hands work him all over, massaging and tracing over every muscle with your ears listening to the sweet music his shaky breaths let out. In a teasing sing song way you get right up in his ear as your hands travel in that certain direction. What does he want? Is the basics of the things you ask him over and over seeing every little part of his self control start to break as he bites his tongue. His cock is hard and leaking as he bucks against your sex, throbbing as he grinds into the meat of your thighs, his breath comes through in hissing gritted teeth as your fingers trail down his back to the the danger zone of his ass with small taps - his face bright red seconds before he breaks.

Spanking + praise kink = loud. Very loud. The moment he's in you, he's in to the base and the fucking moment your hand comes to clash back down this man is jack hammering into you like crazy and it will get to a point where you will absolutely have to gag him in some way before the neighbors start poking their superstitious noses into it.

Once after the first time where he's comfortable (less embarrassed) to talk about it he'll open up to you about really liking you doing this to him and encourage you in the future to go even rougher, after all with demon Sparda genes even if he's only quarter he still has at least a bit of healing factor ((grew a whole arm back)) so however hard you give him nothing you can while being human will hurt him but it's the thought and feel good sting that counts!

Although V may be fragile given obvious reasons, don't let that fool you. The man at the end of the day is still a part of Vergil, meaning deep down - even if his former self would rather deny, deny, and deny on the spot than admit it out loud - is a total freak when it comes to kinky shit. Yes given how flaky and easy his body could just break apart he can't go too hard that his complete counterpart can, however, he can assure you he can take a little bit so spanking shouldn't be too much should it?

It does surprise him when you come out of the blue with it though, both alone in the van while waiting for for Nero to return from his part of the job and Nico to return from repairs on the front of the van, all he did was bend over a bit to grab a drink from the small cooler when a subtle tap hit him on the ass - nothing too hard, just a tease, but it did spark his eyes wide and make him drop the green can of Virility he was holding.

When he turns around to look at you, still bent over, there's a dirty - yet subtle - sly smirk across his plump lips and with his velvety voice he reminds you:

"If you wanted my attention all you need do is ask. Or is it being a little deviant that alluring to you? I'll have to keep that in mind."

Will drop things in front of you more. After all, he's a "-fragile, delicate thing who can't keep things steady sometimes in his hands. Oops I dropped I dropped my cane, silly me." And when he goes to pick up said item he'll always over-exaggerate pick it up - he knows he doesn't have the most shapely ass in the world - his true self doesn't either - but you like looking and feeling down there so that's good enough for him to put on quite the act for your eyes to wonder and maybe you'll gather enough courage to reach out and touch him again. And you can absolutely bet if Griffon's out of his tattooed binds you will get very lovely, crassliy worded commentary, teasing, and the occasional exaggerated gag from the bird.

Once the 'games' are finally over V loves the sensation of being draped naked over your lap - no matter how big or smaller you are compared to him - he'll get comfortable either with a pillow on the bed or on the armrest of the chair you're in as you pamper him with grounded soft touches all along his body, tracing around inky tattoos, until you cup the cheeks of his ass. He'll hum and moan in approval at the touches, his breath with hitch if with a couple coated fingers you start fingering his hole and with audibly complain with shaky breath when you slip out of him. But everything will change with that first spark of contact on his ass.

V - like Vergil - isn't a man who curses very often. This will make him do so. A lot. In between spiked punched out breaths and groans that further you go will turn into whines as he looses himself in the spanks, pleasured tears creeping in the corners of his eyes as you tell him to count that he turns into a complete mess on your lap.

He loves it, really, more than he actually originally thought - at first going along with it because it was obviously something you were into and wanted and he wants nothing but to enable your desires but now... he felt small. But in a good way. Good small. Vulnerable small. Safe small. Loved small. He can easily let himself go like this. It's good. Really good.

You don't have to put at hand on any other part of him, his cock strains against your thighs so hard and so leaking you don't have to touch it to put him on edge. He can come so easily like this and will do so if you encourage it, if he can take five more you'll let him come, and he accepts the challenge - he pants like he's ran a mile, his hairs an absolute mess, and his entire normally pale body is tinted a flushed pink except for his ass which is more red from your spanks.

He begs, pleas, promising he can take it if you go harder and he's on the point of sobbing if you give it to him. He about looses his voice entirely when you give him permission to go on and come - without a hand on him his cock practically explodes as his seed paints your thighs and his entire body gives out with his weight.

His ass might be sore for the next few days but that's fine, he reminds that he has you to pamper him after all after you've spent nearly ten minutes worried post-spank that you might've taken it too far but he promises he's okay, he's stronger than what he looks, even if deep down he realistically knows that took a lot out of him. Maybe something like this should be more of a treat kind of thing? Not too often he thinks he can take something like that.

Or... maybe next time you could be the one handle the heat next time? V has some wonderful ideas how to go so about it...

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dante sparda #dante x reader #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #nero sparda #nero x reader #dmc v #v x reader #mine #sin content #devil may cry headcanons

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basil-does-arttt · 4 months ago

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so we all know how Bury The Light as a theme song represents Vergil and subsequently his story and themes within DMC 5??

Well obviously that means Subhuman is the same for Dante. So i did some thinking (wow big surprise there shocking i know)

The TLDR of this is my conclusion that Dante is reckless and overconfident because of his half-devil nature and as a result disregards his life and safety. Also, that Dante has mixed feelings about his demon side.

Specifically what got me to this thought was the line we all know if you've listened to subhuman:

"You cannot kill me, i am subhuman."

And,

I mean come on, the message couldn't have been written any clearer here. Because he's part demon, because he's - as Dante puts it, assumably the writing of this song is from his POV much like i assume Bury the Light is from Vergil's POV - sub-human, he believes he cant die. That whatever is thrown at him, no matter what or how dangerous the situation is, he naively believes he will come out the other end unscathed.

And to be honest, he kinda has reason to believe that thus far. If being stabbed at least 5 times throughout your life and brushing each one off as if it were a mere scratch wasn't enough to convince him, defeating so many different great demonic beasts including Mundus himself definitely would. I mean, who wouldnt? Whatever hell throws at Dante, surely cant be any worse than the actual fucking demon king or his own brother post-DMC 5. In a sense, he believes he is immortal.

But that way of thinking is shallow, its naive and leaves him open to danger because it makes him cocky. He thinks he's untouchable, and that way of thinking could get him seriously hurt or worse if he isnt careful. (As we see in the beginning of DMC 5 actually. He thinks "eh, ive fought worse, how bad could this actually be?" That "Its only Vergil, and ive fought him before." Only to have his shit kicked in and end up in a coma for a month. Imagine if that happened with a different demon that wasn't so merciful as to keep him alive for all that time, who would've jumped at the opportunity to rip him to shreds in an instant.)

I also want to go into how the song reflects Dante's (poor) mental health and his thoughts on being a half-demon.

Its kinda hard to catch unless you really think about it but the song is clearly negative in tone when it comes to describing Dante's own devil form. "As i call upon the dark gift to erupt" is one line that sticks out to me and i think is the best example of this. I also believe from the song that Dante views his DT as a seperate entity from himself; "I feel the devil in me, we're coming right for you".

"Funny how the mind tries to sink me deeper, as the evil tries to turn me around." The evil could be in reference to other demons, yes, but it also could be referencing his own "demon"; "i must not forget that i have bled, from no respect to the demons in my head". Wether that line means he's gotten himself hurt because of his own recklessness or self-harm i cant tell, and i wont assume one or the other specifically.

Throughout the song too, the lines "i cannot erupt, i must control, i cannot erupt, i must explode" to me also seems like Dante struggles with control of his DT, and is scared of losing himself when triggered. The whole tone of the song seems like a rampage of sorts too, its very aggresive and almost violent. "Something save me, put me out of my destiny, and drop me safely in this hell"; yet at the same time as his fears toward his own DT, it feels natural to him, this kind of "bloodlust" he feels in his triggered form is something he doesnt want but he knows he cant keep from happening entirely, so as a result the most comfortable place for him is in danger. He can let loose and he doesnt have to worry when all he's killing is demons. One last thing, "i see right past me, the eyes are flashing" to me sounds like Dante becomes almost dissociated when triggered, he's not really present in his mind and body and is acting on pure instinct alone.

All in all, Subhuman (like i said earlier) at first just sounded like an epic battle theme for Dante, but when i really listen to it, it becomes much sadder. Of course all of this could just be me bullshitting so id love to hear other's takes on this.

i also wanna analyze Bury the Light too. So i might do that later.

#overall someone please get Dante some proper therapy #and a big long hug because he needs one #Dante's depression is another thing i want to explore because i feel like its well written #I mean the signs are there and its obvious once you know what to look for #but at the same time he just hides it so well #that it takes a minute to realize his carefree attitude and chill guy persona really is just a persona #its all just a front to disguise and push away his deepest issues in an effort to not burden others and maybe forget it entirely #devil may cry #dmc #dante devil may cry #dmc dante

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dawn-dream-crusader · 1 year ago

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DMC boys hedacanons - Sleeping positions

________________

Dante

Due to his non-caring attitude about himself, he dozes off right on his chair most of the time. Legs on table, hands hanging down, a magazine on face instead of a sleep mask. Just how he likes it and just how Morrison usually finds him.

When on couch, he sleeps like a little child, really. It's that one position, when hands are under pillow (even though Dante's is flat like a pancake), legs pressed to chest. He seems to relax more than ever while sleeping like this. Gives him memories.

And when you're with him, he would hug you with one of his arms and pull you closer, so your head lays on his chest, so you could hear his heartbeat, how far he's ready to go for you. Dante remembers a similar picture from his magazine, and chuckles slightly, throwing your arm over his body. These pictures lack sensuality. He pats your head and takes your hand just to plant a little kiss on your palm. You mean more to him than any photo could ever convey.

"Hm? What's it, strawberry? Nothing? Then sleep again. I don't want you to knock out on our tomorrow date."

Vergil

Before meeting up with Dante again, Vergil used to curl up in a ball on ground or a tree to keep himself warm, wrap in his coat, press Yamato to his chest, getting ready for a battle with any entity that would come by. He would wake up from the littlest sound, swinging his sword and accidentally cutting down a tree. There was no rest for him.

After reconnecting with his humanity, Vergil sleeps on a firm bed that Dante bought for him, in his room in Devil May Cry. Now, that he feels a bit safer, he naps, throwing his limbs all apart, still pressing Yamato to his chest, in a grip of disturbing thoughts still covering himself with his coat.

With your help, he slowly becomes more comfortable with not having his katana right next to him. Vergil lays Yamato on ground and finally gives in to his urges: he wraps his arms and legs around you, pressing you closer to him instead of a weapon. He nuzzles your hairline, holding your hands in his, making sure every part of you is warm. As strange as it is, Vergil can't help himself but shower you with compliments all night. He whispers to you, how much he loves you. How much he wants you to stay with him, by his side. Everything that he doesn't know how to say when you're awake.

"I wish I had met you sooner. My star. Maybe, something would change in my life... if you were next to me."

Nero

This sweet boy is definitely what you need, if you like people who kick in their sleep. Every night has the same scenario: Nero throws off his blanket, wakes up from cold and then puts in back on, and in the morning he can't understand how to untangle himself from it. One time he used devil magic and burned the blanket to ashes. Don't try at home.

And with you, he wraps you in. Nero'd sleep at the North Pole with no clothes whatsoever, but he'd totally make you a walking mummy from blankets. Even though he is the best listener, Nero won't let you take your rest without anything to warm you. He's a caring guy, just like his father, but at least, he doesn't suffocate you with his limbs. Nero hugs you and pulls you close, so he feels your breath on his neck. A cute guy.

"Where is this damn blanket.. Here it is. Look, I want you to be healthy, so you don't catch cold. Got me? Nice, baby."

________________________

P.s. Very short. I woke up and decided to write.

#devil may cry #dmc5 #dmc #vergil x reader #dante x reader #nero x reader #devil may cry headcanons

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animelovelover123 · 1 year ago

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DMC Boys x Reader – Taking Your Virginity Headcanons

Parings: Dante, Reboot Dante, Vergil, Reboot Vergil, Nero, V x Reader

Synopsis/Author's Note: Headcanons for how the Devil May Cry boys would treat you if you were to offer them your first time.

Disclaimer: Some of these stories have moments that should not be replicated. Not all of these guys handle the situation the best and, if applied to real life, it can result in some hurt feelings, anger, and/or sadness. You all be safe, use your wits and gut feelings out there when you have your first time/give someone their first time.

Science Fact I Learned For This: A girl's hymen is NOT some wall/barrier that is broken through. It is a tissue that naturally has a hole in it big enough to let menstrual blood through. The whole idea of it hurting and/or bleeding the first time a girl has penetrative sex is because it may not be used to being stretched that far and can tear, not because it is punctured/broken through. There are, of course, exceptions to this but this is the general idea. Some people may have known this but in case you didn’t, you just learned something today like me! ^^

Dante

His reaction and treatment will change a bit depending on his age (aka what game time you are in) but many things will be consistent.

He always understands how much trust and courage it takes to give someone your first time and it means a lot to him that you want to choose him.

Whether he is in his late teens and gives you a shocked expression then a giddy smile as he says “Wait, really? Thanks! I’ll be sure to give you the time of your life.” or in his early 40s where he pauses for a moment to process before giving you a patient and gentle smile, saying “Of course, I’d be honoured to.”, he appreciates the gesture and does not take it for granted. Although, the older he is the more touched he is that you wanted to do this with him of all people.

This is not to say he isn’t going to make jokes and be silly about it. He takes the moment with all due respect, but he can’t help cracking jokes as that is just who he is. Secretly though, he is also trying to get you to lighten up about the idea. He knows how stressful losing your virginity can be, hell he went through it himself, and he hoped that by making light of it he could offer some levity to what he knows is going to inevitably be an awkward and uncomfortable time. If you can laugh at the mishaps instead of curling up and dying a bit inside, then his jokes have done their job.

Though not all of his jokes will land and may seem a bit insensitive at times, know that he is never laughing at you or mocking you, just trying to make you smile and relax.

When the night comes, he does what he can to make you feel secure. He locks all the doors and unplugs the phone to avoid interruptions. He offers you food and a bath before you start, and takes a shower himself. He makes preparations, like getting water, condoms, and lube, and lays them out so that you can see them and feel secure by their presence. And he will have a conversation with you beforehand.

If you try to fight the conversation, he will dip into his hardly ever used mature-adult mode.

“Hey now, no hiding from this babe.” Dante chuckles lightly as he gently pulls the pillow away from your face. “I know it’s embarrassing but we gotta talk about this, at least this first time, okay?”

He needs to make some things clear, define boundaries, and try to explain what to expect. He continues to throw in jokes to lighten the mood or will otherwise smile at you sympathetically, inwardly finding your bashfulness endearing.

He takes things nice and slow, verbally asking for consent and telling you what he intends to do so as to not catch you off guard.

He also takes into account what makes you feel secure. For example, do you feel better being covered by his body, whether he kneels over you or partially lays on you? Does the pressure and closeness calm you? Then he will do that. Or, alternatively, would that freak you out and make you feel trapped? If so then he will stay sitting up or lying beside you to give you space and so you see that you can escape if you want, not that he was holding you there, but it is an unconscious thing.

If your hymen does end up tearing it is not quite as panic-inducing as it could be thanks to Dante warning you beforehand that you might feel pain and that he stays calm, acting as an anchor while you settle from the sting.

He will stop. Not pulling out or pushing forward, just sit inside you and coddle you until you are ready. And if you have any questions like “What happened?”, “Am I going to be okay?”, and “Why does it hurt so much?”, he will patiently answer them with little to no jokes as he knows this is probably the most emotionally and physically intense part of a woman losing her virginity.

If at any point you panic and tell him that you want to stop, he will stop but not retreat. He will hold his position for a moment, let you breathe, and then ask how you are feeling. Do you really want to stop, because he will, or are you just anxious? After dating you for a while, he has gotten really damn good at knowing when you are overwhelmed and just need a break.

If you do truly want to stop though, or are generally not enjoying yourself, he will stop. He won't be upset or take it personally. He knows losing your v-card is a lot to handle and sometimes, no matter how sexy and skilled your partner may be, you may just not be into it. He can relate. He will even tell you of some of his sexual misadventures if he thinks it will make you laugh.

Either way, he will want to push aside any negative emotions you are feeling as soon as possible and bring back your smile. And maybe tomorrow you two can talk about what you didn’t like and how to make things better for you in the future.

He finds you and your flustered reactions adorable. He has done this dance quite a few times and some of the sweet intimacy feelings have faded over the years, but seeing you get bashful or excited warms his heart.

And when, if everything goes well, you do cum, Dante just wants to watch you flex, twist, moan, and enjoy your first orgasm.

He isn’t picky about whether he finishes this first time around or not. He will try of course so you can feel the full extent of his desire for you. But if you are completely tuckered out, he can settle without, and maybe even make a joke about it.

As you drift down from your high Dante lays beside you with an at-peace smile, playing with your hair, basking in your happiness.

Once you are down on earth again though he is back to his talkative self. Mostly making jokes and asking if you’re hungry.

“How about we order pizza, turn on some trash TV, and cuddle the night away.”

He does not ask how he did as your clear pleasure was plenty enough for him to know he was treating you well. If you do take the time to praise or thank him though, you’ll get to see a softer version of his proud smile paired with a rare blush as he thanks you in return.

Reboot Dante

It depends if you are a random person he met at a club or his partner.

If you are random and you tell him you have never had sex before, he will want to back out. Not because he finds that gross or a turn-off, it’s more so that he himself regrets how he had his first time and doesn’t want someone else’s to be like this.

Dante probably had his first sexual experience far younger than he should have, like 13-14 yours old, with an older woman, out of a desire to act older than he actually was, his street kid lifestyle, and fuck-authority mindset. As an adult, and as he gains more stable and healthy relationships through Kat and Vergil, he is starting to realize how that negatively affects him.

He does not fully understand how it messed with him, he isn’t emotionally mature enough for that yet, but he does know that he doesn’t really want to ruin someone else’s first time if he can help it.

He can’t really articulate this though, still too attached to some toxic masculine pride traits and the aforementioned lack of emotional maturity, so he will say some things like “You sure? Don’t you want to pop your cherry with someone you love or some shit like that?”

If you are his partner, he will think the same thing but probably won’t say it out loud.

Either way, he is going to have a tough time. He knows he should be slower, gentler, and comforting but that’s not really his style, so he is out of his element.

If he has advance warning, as in you are his partner and told him at some point that you were a virgin, and the time grows close, he will awkwardly go to Kat for advice. And, if he really loved you (and he was a bit drunk), he may just work up the nerve to ask his brother how to be a gentleman for you.

No matter what though, he is kind of awkward about it.

He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it because that is stupid, cheesy, and would put more pressure on you both to perform well. This helps in the beginning, making it so the lead-up of kisses, gropes, and rubbings are casual and playful.

As soon as you start to grow nervous and hesitant though, the switch is flipped and Dante is not the same. He will do his damnedest to keep up the cool and confident aura on the outside, but the nerves on the inside will leak out eventually.

He spends the whole time flipping between holding himself back, worrying about how he is doing, and agitation. He is so strung up that he honestly cannot really enjoy it, especially not in a sexually satisfying way. But he at least understands that this is not about him or his pleasure.

This first time, and probably the next handful of goes, it is about you. That does not stop him from jerking off later to get it out of his system and to make sure he doesn’t lose control on you.

He does, however, gain some satisfaction if you are able to enjoy yourself. Even if he is not able to be sexually gratified due to preferring rougher sex and not being able to have that with you this first time, to see you cum and be overall pleased by the end makes it worth all the struggle he went through.

On the other hand, if you are dissatisfied or request to stop in the middle, he is upset. He isn’t angry with you, he is angry at himself for fucking up so bad, though he can’t communicate this properly in the moment so it may come off badly.

If things go that wrong, he may just want to split up for the night.

If you are someone he just met that night at a club, he will send you home. He won’t be a total ass and just kick you out. He will at least walk you home or somewhere where you can make the rest of the trip yourself/with friends safely, but he can’t stand the awkwardness and emotions of having you stay the night after that.

If you are his partner, he will suggest that he just leave, even if you are at his place/in his room. You can convince him to stay, though he doesn’t have the heart to simply cuddle after he, as far as he is concerned, ruined things, so you would have to do something else like watch a movie to get your minds off of it.

If applicable, you can try to assure him all you want that he did nothing wrong and it was your own nerves/insecurities, and Dante may say he understands, but it is easy to tell that he 100% blames himself.

This guilt is even worse if your hymen ends up tearing because holly shit. He knows it can happen to some women, but he is not properly educated on this stuff and he has never seen it. To him, a bit of blood, even during sex, was not unheard of and never really bothered him. But if you start to cry, scream, and/or panic, he freaks out. He pulls out of you right away and starts asking what's wrong, even if somewhere in his racing mind he knows what is wrong. You can convince him to continue but he is rattled after that.

Post sex, assuming everything went well, he will be on edge. He is used to long nights of multiple rounds of foreplay and sex, sometimes with multiple people. So, going just one round, which possibly didn’t bring him to orgasm, at least not a fully satisfying one, left him with a lot of pent-up energy.

Depending on how wound up he is, he may try to gently encourage you to keep going by lavishing your neck in kisses, licks, and little bites, and grinding against you. But if you make it clear that you are done, he will back off.

He will cuddle you until you fall asleep, then probably slip off to a shower to finish himself. He will come back though and fall asleep wrapped around you, finding himself oddly satisfied. Not sexually satisfied, nor satisfied in the idea that he got to take a virgin. Instead, it was a satisfaction in making you happy for your first time, something he secretly wishes he was with his own, and you having chosen to share it with him.

Vergil

Vergil is maybe not be the best pick to have your first time with. He is proud, straightforward, and is also lacking in tact. This can make him come off as cold, unsympathetic, or even cruel.

He does care about you and does not want to hurt you, physically or emotionally, but he can’t communicate this well and his usual way of telling people there is no need to worry is by asserting that they are foolish and are wasting their breath on needless indecision.

This is first seen when you let slip that you are a virgin. He blatantly asks why you are telling him this.

“I care for you; you care for me. At some point we may consummate our bond through physical means. What does it matter how much experience either of us have in such things?”

If he were to articulate his thoughts and feelings better, he would further explain that he does not see sex as anything that special or as a requirement in a relationship. It is simply another, more primal and physically gratifying, way to express affection and trust. And to eventually create spawn but that comes further down the line.

He may need to have someone, whether it be you or his brother or even a mutual acquaintance like Lady, explain to him how emotionally taxing it can be for someone to have their first time. He will take note of it and be more conscious of your possibly complicated emotions on this, but his actions won’t really change.

He does not press you for it; he just waits until the moment feels right and then whisks you away to his bedroom.

If you show hesitation, he will push you to make up your mind. Again, he is not intending to make you feel pressured or like he does not care. He wants you to make a decision and follow through with it.

Do you want to stop here? Then say so clearly so you both do not waste time fanning the flames of passion just to snuff them out at their hottest moment and regret it after.

Do you want this now? Do you want him now? Then take him. Don’t concern yourself with the trivial restrictions of human societal limitation or personal doubt on how one of your gender, situation, or age should act. Grab hold of the moment by the reins, charge forward, and take what you both desire.

Vergil is not overly gentle with you, even if it is your first time. What point is there in treating you like you are made of glass when it will not properly prepare you for truly passionate lovemaking?

Besides, considering he has inhuman speed and power, can transform into a demon, and has an innate desire to breed, he is showing restraint.

If you start to panic and ask him to wait, that it’s too much, slow down, or something to that extent he will scoff. He’ll assert that you are fine and that there is no need to worry. Despite his verbal dismissal, he will stop or slow down as you requested and give you space to adjust.

If he does end up tearing your hymen, he is considerate enough to stop for a moment but will soon get back into it. In his mind, if you dwell on the pain it will only make it worse.

Besides, he believes you to be an intelligent woman so you should be well aware of what dangers lie in being penetrated for the first time. If you don’t, well you are more naïve than he thought.

Similarly to before though, despite what he says he will indeed halt his movements if you believe it would be better or you fall into distress. And while you come to terms with the pain, he reassures you of your strength in ways that may seem a bit harsh, but he means it to be motivating.

“This hurdle is nothing you can’t handle.”

“Do not falter at this small inconvenience.”

“This pain you feel is nothing in comparison to what you have conquered before.”

And when you do push past this, his lips quirk up into a proud smile. He does not praise you out loud though. Instead, he rewards you by lavishing attention on one of your multiple sensitive spots he has already identified and memorized for later use.

He will finish. It doesn’t matter if it is alongside you or if he has to keep pistoning into you while you tremble and whimper in overstimulation.

He claims that it is the price to pay when you have relations with someone. If either participant is left unsatisfied then it is a failure on both ends, the satisfied being a dishonourable thief and the unsatisfied being too weak to fight for what is owed to them.

Secretly though, Vergil was also quickly getting hooked on the sensation of you clinging to him, inside and out, and so he could not stop himself.

If he senses any dissatisfaction from you, he takes it as a personal insult. He will dive back in, no matter your flustered reaction or lack of energy. His ability to pleasure you shall not be questioned so if it takes an hour of pounding into you or burying his face into your core then so be it. Neither of you will rest until you are completely satisfied or your mind and body are numb from pleasure.

When all is said and done, he is quiet. It may seem like he is unhappy or uninterested, but in reality, his mind and body are still buzzing and he is struggling more than he ever has in his life to relax and focus.

Once he does find some clarity he gets up without a word and lifts you into his arms. He is able to hide how weak his legs are at the moment as he carries you to the bath so you may cleanse yourself and relax your muscles in the hot water.

He has no intention of joining you as he would rather address the inconvenient consequences of lovemaking. Condoms need to be thrown away or packed up. The bed sheets need to be removed and thrown in the wash, and then new ones dug out to replace them. Sleeping attire needed to be gathered.

He explains this to you matter-of-factly. But if you look up at him with those pleading, hopeful, beautiful eyes and ask him to stay, he can’t find it in himself to refuse you.

Reboot Vergil

When you first tell him you are a virgin as he briskly types away at his laptop, he initially responds with the same level of interest as if you just told him your favourite colour. Firstly, he is busy with work, as he always is. Secondly, being around Dante has desensitized Vergil so much that any mention of sex and its many facets would pass through his head like a gentle breeze while he keeps his focus on what he is doing.

It could take minutes, it could take hours, but eventually it will click. It hits Vergil like a truck when he realizes what you, his girlfriend, were trying to insinuate when you told him you were a virgin.

He feels stupid.

He feels excited.

And he feels a rush of pride and superiority at the implication that you want him to take your virginity. Out of all the people you have met before, or would ever meet, it was he who won your heart and would be gifted the treasure of taking your innocence.

He casually and calmly brings up the topic again the next time he sees you just to clarify. And when you do, his heart is sent racing while his mind starts formulating the perfect plan.

Thoughts of you quickly take over his mind. He can still focus on work when he needs to, but if he finds himself stuck with a particularly tedious or uninvolved task, such as watching security footage or waiting for his specially made virus to copy and send him all of the data in a company’s database, his mind wanders. And though his thoughts had occasionally drifted to you before, now that he knows what is to come in your relationship, you are all he can think about. This results in him planning a date for your first time together rather than letting it happen naturally.

He will make an event out of it. You two will spend the whole day together, or longer if he has the free time to whisk you away to a vacation, where he gives you his undivided attention and affection. And at the end of the day, he will take you to a luxury suit he booked both because he wanted to keep the dreamlike feeling of the day going and because he did not want to spoil your first time by having you somewhere dark, cold, and crawling with people demanding his attention like The Order headquarters.

He won't throw you down on the bed the moment you step through the door though, no. He will want to spend some time lounging in the suit with you, maybe drinking a bit, eating, talking, all with soft music playing from somewhere. And sprinkled throughout will be tantalizing touches and eye contact to build anticipation.

You two could be talking on the couch and his hand will slide onto your leg, hold still or give a couple of squeezes until he knows you have noticed, then run up and down your leg. Maybe he’ll pull you into a slow dance where you are either forced to look at one another, faces so close your warm breaths mingle together, or you are pressed together so close that you can feel each other's heartbeats. Or he will simply watch you lovingly, not saying a word, until you notice his lack of response and turn to him. He’ll hold your gaze for an agonizing few seconds, then his smile will twist into a grin, his tongue will peak out to lick at his lips as he looks down at yours, or he will bite his bottom lip while raking his eyes over your body. Then he’ll suddenly return to the conversation like nothing happened while secretly reveling in how frazzled he made you without speaking a word or touching you.

He will give you, through just trying to have a good time and directly offering, alcohol and medication beforehand. Nothing that could impair you, only enough to dull the possible pain. He will respect your decision if you decline, but he will have still bought numbing lubricant.

When it comes to actually doing it, he is more of a sensual lover so he is used to a slower and gentler experience.

He is intent on being in control, as he always wants to be, so he will insist that you don’t have to do anything but lay back and enjoy yourself while he takes care of everything.

For example, he will gracefully peel away your clothes and soon after strip himself for you so that you can both bear yourself to each other without any more barriers. This way he can: feel the trust you have in him, and he can show you that it is well placed; enjoy the slow, tantalizing reveal of your body; and get to feel the boost of pride at how you marvel at his body, which you have not yet seen due to his inclination to wear full pants and his coat or long sleeve shirts.

If you start to fuss for whatever reason he will hush and shush you in that gentle, soothing way. With a hand lightly caressing your face, an expression of mature reassurance, and voice in a soft whisper, he’ll say things like “shh, it's alright. I’ve got you; I won't let anything bad happen to you as long as you are here in my arms” and “hush darling, none of that self-doubt, you are doing perfectly”.

This is also his approach to if your hymen tears. The pain will be less severe due to one, or multiple, of the ways he has numbed you and that area, but he knows there is always a chance that the pain will be too great to fully abolish. So as you cry he will hold you, caress you, and assure you that you are fine. Nothing is wrong, this is natural, and that it will be well worth it. You just have to trust in him and his promise to take care of you.

If you demand to stop or are unsatisfied somehow, he will pointedly ask you what he did wrong. He will keep up a calm, patient, in-control demeanour as he fishes for information and reasons, but on the inside he is furious.

He had worked so hard, done so much research, meticulously guided the experience, and yet you are unhappy? Where did he go wrong? Why is he such a failure to the one woman he truly loves? Of all the ways he could have screwed up in his life, this was the most precious and delicate of moments and by ruining it he may have left a permanent scar in your relationship. It is a guilt and self-anger that will hang over him for years. Perhaps even to the end of his days.

Assuming everything goes perfectly, as he is sure it will, he has a plan for after everything is done. He will whisk you away to a bath, or the private hot tub he made sure came with the suit he booked, and feed you food and drinks to lavish you in luxury.

And he will still do that if you want. But when the moment finally comes and you are snuggled up against his heaving chest, hair tousled, clinging to him, eyes closed in exhaustion, and expression that of a gentle, pleased, and at peace smile… all of his plans and train of thought disappear. All he sees, and all he needs, in this moment is to hold you.

Nero

You being a virgin was both a good and bad thing.

On the positive side, Nero felt honoured that you are considering giving your virginity to him and it makes him more secure in telling you that he will be giving you the same.

The bad part is that neither of you knew what the hell you were doing or how to go about things. And in a town run by an old-fashioned religious group that implored their people to wear hoods and full-length clothes, you can bet that they are not about premarital sex so there were not exactly resources on teaching this sort of thing to people his age. Even Nero’s family (as far as he knew pre-DMC4) couldn’t really help since the only ones left were his brother and sister who had not done anything of the sort themselves.

Thank Sparda they were at least willing to help a little. They were both unsure about the idea, being super committed to their religion. Credo in particular would pull Nero aside and try to dissuade him, but he knew that his little brother was a spitfire who would not listen and did not follow the Order’s morals as closely as he wished he did.

Both Kyrie and Credo, knowing that this was going to happen eventually no matter what, did at least go out of their way to covertly gather materials like condoms, lubricant, and maybe some debaucherous books that had been confiscated by the Order as that was the closest to experience any of them could get.

Nero is impatient in getting to experience this with you. He was a healthy young man and he could not help his urges. He had the self-control to not push you into doing things you were not comfortable with, but that did not mean he didn’t push you a bit.

It wasn’t like he was trying to convince you or badger you into it, it was more so that he got ahead of himself sometimes. It’s just that when he would have you close, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you were. You fit in his arms so perfectly. You were so warm, so soft, so squeezable.

Often, he wouldn’t even realize what he was doing.

“What? Oh, sorry. My bad.” He says with a flustered look as he yanks his hand back after you pull away from the kiss to tell him he was grabbing your butt in a public park.

These urges would not stop when you left. Though he would never tell you, out of embarrassment and a sense of guilt for doing it, but he masturbated to thoughts of you regularly. It began before you two even started dating and were in the bashful flirting stage. He didn’t even mean for it to happen the first few times. He tried to keep you out of his thoughts in those moments out of respect but when he was lost in the moment, his mind foggy and his mental filter was down, while searching his mind for thoughts that could energize him to chase that finish line you inevitable popped up, and that’s often what got him. And this habit only increased the closer you two got and the more he had to wait to have you.

When the moment finally came, you two got to have the house to yourselves for the night and you were giving those signs, Nero was almost too excited. His heart was beating faster than normal and his hands were a bit clammy the whole time in anticipation.

He does his best to act confident and in control, as is his usual MO, but you can occasionally catch slipups where he fumbles and curses a bit under his breath. His excitement also gets the better of him sometimes where he suddenly and unconsciously goes a bit faster or a bit rougher than maybe he should. He will stop and slow down if you ask, but it will definitely happen a few times. He can’t help it, he is just so happy, so excited, and you feel so damn good.

There is a good chance that he will tear your hymen in all of his excitement.

Nero is a bit lost in the sensation of finally feeling you surround him that he does not fully register you’re discomfort until you start telling him to stop.

“Fuck. What is it?” Nero grumbles as he feels you trying to push him away. His shallow thrusts stutter to a stop and he fights to hold his position, a primal part of him demanding that he keep grinding into you.

“It hurts.” The moment you say that Nero pops up onto outstretched arms.

“What?” When he sees the distress in your expression and pulls out enough to see blood coming from you, he starts to panic. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you okay? Fuck, shit, wait.”

His panicking causes you to panic which makes him more panicked and this spirals. He pulls out fully and tries to assure you that “I can fix this, just relax”, but that’s an impossibility at this point. He does not understand what is happening or how to deal with it. He races to grab you a towel and maybe pain medication? A hot water bottle? What does he do?

In the end, he calls Kyrie for help. She doesn’t really know much more than you two about sex but she is able to stay calm and relax you two enough to talk about things and maybe call a doctor. She will even take the bullet and call the doctor herself claiming she is the one who tried to have sex just to save you the embarrassment if you can’t bring yourself to do it.

In short, it is an absolute mess and makes things awkward between you two for a bit. He will avoid getting too touchy or intimate with you for a little bit out of guilt. You can even catch him mumbling apologies at seemingly random times because he thinks back to what he did and feels the need to.

When you two do finally have a proper, satisfying experience, whether it be after getting over the first mishap or if the first time went well because your hymen was already open enough for him, Nero feels a sense of giddiness.

He was not used to this post-coital bliss, instead often having post-nut clarity and maybe feeling a bit bad about it, so it kind of catches him off guard. He curls around you and nuzzles into your hair with a pleased smile. He peppers you with occasional kisses, tells you how good it felt, and asks you if you liked it too.

He is awash with renewed energy and can't seem to settle down. He will need something to calm down like a bath, food, music, or even a little game. And the whole time he can’t keep his hands off of you. Not so much for sexual reasons, though there was a tiny bit of that, but just out of the need to be close in this moment and show you affection.

And when you two do finally fall asleep, you are unable to escape his vine like embrace until the next morning.

V can, and will, play the long game with you. That is to say, he will spend weeks, possibly months, preparing you for the main course.

When you tell him you are a virgin and hint, through words or actions, that you are considering having your first time with him, his plan is set into motion.

He has no intention of simply waiting for the right time and then trying to take you all the way in one go. Instead, he builds up to it over multiple days.

He will start with kissing you a bit longer than the usual pecks or goodnight kisses you are used to. Once you get comfortable with that, will move to the next step.

He won't simply release you after a kiss, instead encouraging you to give him 1, 2, or however many you are willing to, more. As you pull away, he will chase your lips or gently pull you back to him by cupping your cheek or threading his fingers through your hair to hold your head. Once you are receptive to that he will proceed to the next step.

As you two kiss, or even just hold each other with the right mood set, V’s usually stationary hands start to wander. At first, he’ll avoid your more private areas and stick to rubbing your back, shoulders, and arms. Then he will start caressing them. Then he will move to more sensitive areas, like your legs, hips, and neck. Then, he will start gliding his hand over your rear, chest, and lower stomach just above the most sacred of areas. He may even try to hold his hand there if you will let him. He won't grope and grab, just hold and maybe caress those spots to let you grow comfortable with him touching you there. And once you are comfortable with that, he will take things further.

So on and so forth. And between every attempt and step, there is a break of hours, a day, or more.

He knows that committing to something like making love for the first time can be overwhelming with all of the new experiences, sensations, and emotions that come with it. So, instead of compressing all of it into an evening, he will separate these to make the ascension into full-blown passion as unjarring and natural as possible.

Even when you two do get into a bed and start touching under your clothes, V still takes things agonizingly slowly.

The first time you cum because of him had you sitting in his lap with your clothes still on and his hands down your pants. With one arm supporting your back to keep you in a semi-laying position while he held you up, and his face pressed into your hair, so you are not embarrassed by his staring and he can whisper into your ear, he pleasures you with just his hand, showering you with praise and offering reminders.

“You feel wonderful my dear.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“You are doing so well.”

“Please don’t hold your breath, let yourself breath and allow me the pleasure of listening to your sweet voice.”

“Move, flex, twitch, cry out, close your eyes, do whatever it is you desire. I will be here with you no matter what to take care of you. To guide you. To love you.”

“Focus on my fingers and how they glide betwixt your flower petals, how they spread your slick until it coats you completely, how they circle your bud, how they slide in easily as if they were made to bring you to ecstasy.”

He will get you to finish like this, held on his lap and in his arms, without pushing you to reveal your body to him. And this is where the sexual escapade will end for the night. V can see that you are tired out by this first sexual interaction, whether you see it as losing your virginity or not, and he simply wants to enjoy caring for you and soaking up the warmth radiating from you in your afterglow.

What’s that? You’ve noticed that V is still hard and did not actually cum? “Do not worry yourself over such things my songbird.” He assures you as he lays you down on the bed and begins stroking your hair. “Though I truly appreciate your attention to me despite you being the star of this moment, I must confess that not even reaching a physical climax can outmatch the pleasure I feel in seeing your ecstasy, so there is no need for you to overexert yourself on me when you have already satisfied my heart and soul.”

This also continues for a while, where he will bring you to completion through his hands, mouth, or some other means without asking for anything in return. Though, if you ask him if you can touch him, he will gladly welcome it. But your pleasure is paramount and whether he reaches his own orgasm or not is irrelevant.

It goes without saying that if, at any stage, you ask for things to slow down or stop, V will without hesitation. However, one slightly negative effect is that he tends to take even things like “slow down” and “wait” as hard stops, pulling away and ending the moment there. You may have to stop him from just giving up right away. He finds it unexpected but endearing and arousing when you ask him to continue.

When he does, finally, go all the way, things are just as slow, sensual, and focused on your experience as everything leading up to this.

Having your hymen torn by V is extremely unlikely considering how carefully he had trained and molded your body for this moment. But, hypothetically, if this were to happen he would be frustrated.

He does not blame it on you in the slightest, nor does he show any sort of negative emotion outwardly. He pulls out and showers you in affirmations and comfort in any way he can with a gentle, sympathetic smile. On the inside though he is fuming.

He had been so careful, worked so hard to avoid this, and done everything he could to prepare you. And yet now his precious songbird was in pain and there was nothing he could do except offer moral support and maybe offer pain medication or natural pain relief like a bath.

He will insist you stop here for today and will take a few steps back in his plan to ease you back into trying that again.

After the eventual successful try, V is in a state of bliss as he enjoys the fruit of his labor. To experience the most intimate of connections with the one he loves and have you lay in his arms feeling satisfied, safe, and secure after giving him something so precious was a joyous moment he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

#devil may cry x reader #devil may cry imagine #dante x reader #nero x reader #v x reader #vergil x reader #reboot dante x reader #reboot vergil x reader #v (dmc) x reader

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ariseur · 8 months ago

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Hi hi! Can i repuest a bunch of headcannons for the Sparda Brothers™ with a reader insecure with her small chest? I love your writing

sparda twins with an insecure!reader 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

dante (dmc) x reader, vergil (dmc) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

do you guys ever think that sharks ever get a nasty tasting fish and then they’re all like ‘oh that fish was gross’

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

some suggestive/nsfw themes in both of their parts, lmk if i missed anything!! 💕

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓓ANTE — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ regardless of what anybody says, DANTE loves everybody!!

❥ if he catches you looking in the mirror nitpicking at yourself, he’ll just pull you away and into him. his embrace will last as long as you need.

❥ dante doesn’t mind if you have a smaller chest. you could have a big chest or no chest, you could be thin or thick or a whole ass other species.

❥ beauty is subjective, dante reminds you.

❥ and it is!! beauty is in the eye of the beholder. you could be the most beautiful person to your partner and someone else would think differently, we are all beautiful in our own way!!1!1!!

❥ dante will assure you that you’re perfect the way you are and he couldn’t care less (in a caring way) what you look like, he still thinks you’re hot either way 🤷‍♀️

❥ if this man can pay his bills, he might take you shopping for clothes that might make you ease up on your insecurities. only if you want, though.

❥ (suggestive!!) if dante catches you mentioning and self deprecating about your chest, he’ll start paying more attention to it when you guys have sex. he’ll usually initiate body worship in the bedroom but he’ll make sure to give your chest some extra love, regardless on if you have breasts or not.

❥ (suggestive??) careful though, dante has some teeth. your chest will literally be littered with marks 😭

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓥ERGIL — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ VERGIL’s much more blunt about confronting your insecurities. with a cock of his head and a furrowed brow, he asks a ton of questions.

❥ he just doesn’t get how you’re insecure about it? if you know he loves you, why are you so worried about it?

❥ if you explain it to him some more, i think he’ll understand it enough to start asking what he can do to help.

❥ he’s more curt about it, so it might come off a little rough. it almost sounds dismissive as he tells you that he doesn’t care about looks at all, but he means well.

❥ guys leave him alone his mom died and he spent a lot of his time in hell okay

❥ (suggestive!!) won’t mind if you wanna leave your shirt on during sex, but will slowly start to ease you out of these habits with the sweet whispers that fall from his lips.

❥ (suggestive!!) vergil takes his time in the bedroom anyways. he doesn’t fuck, he makes love. he cherishes those intimate moments between you two, sexually or not. there’s no need to rush things.

❥ (suggestive!!) and he is such a tease. he’ll leave you waiting all day, he’ll even initiate these moments more to make you feel sexier, and then finally at night when you two are in the comfort of your bedroom, he strikes.

❥ (suggestive!!) like dante, he’ll worship your chest and upper torso area more, whether you have breasts or not. albeit he’s less rushed than dante.

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mannequinreligi0n · 18 days ago

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Hello obscura, would you be open to writing something about the Sparda brothers quietly in love with the reader (or the reader not so interested/doesn’t feel the same way)? I’d love to read more about them…aaaarghhh 😭

OFC ! i love psychoanalyzing these two to pieces, so thank you for this <3

There are a multitude of similarities in how the twins would pine over someone. The most glaring to me is that both Dante and Vergil would only fall for someone they have a personal connection to (aka demiromantic). Both have been through insurmountable trauma, and letting someone even remotely close to them would be a huge trigger due to their multitude of losses. It would take a lot of hard work from the person of interest to even form and maintain a friendship with them, let alone a relationship.

If it came down to them developing feelings for someone and the person didn’t reciprocate, I don’t think they would take it well. Both twins are extremely self-destructive and don’t know how to regulate/control their feelings (mostly because of trauma, though perhaps we can also blame the impulsivity and intensity of their devil genes).

Specifics for each twin below. ⬇️

Dante would very much brush off the rejection - playing it cool and coughing out a self-deprecating joke to soften the blow. He would maintain the friendship with the individual and act like he never said anything, but it would eat him alive, day in and day out. Every lingering glance, every laugh from the person would chip away another part of him. Dante is also very much an avoidant attachment; he constantly keeps everyone at arms length to “protect” them and himself. The rejection would only solidify in his mind that he can’t let himself get close to anyone, that putting himself out into the world would only create more problems for him - and he has enough problems. He would still hang around the person and chop it up, but behind closed doors, I think his reliance on alcohol would see an uptick. Drinking himself dumb in order to sleep, only sober when he’s out on a job (if even that). Dante has a terrible habit of deflecting. Deny, deny, deny. He’s incredibly intelligent and can read a room like no other - he knows exactly how to act to make people believe whatever about him. The way the person of interest would figure out how badly he’s taking the rejection would be if they happened to stop by his place late enough, catching him knee deep in whiskey bottles and neglected of all his needs.

Vergil, on the other hand, would rather eat glass than confess his feelings to someone. And it would take months, if not longer, for him to truly feel safe enough to conceptualize loving someone outside of his family. His feelings would not be revealed willingly - it would probably be accidentally blurted, or exposed when/if the person of interest confronts him about it. In contrast to his brother, Vergil is an anxious attachment, through and through. He is constantly in a state of fear, worried the person will turn their back on him or forget him entirely. As a result, he unknowingly will cling to them like his life depends on it - checking in on them constantly, frequently asking their opinion of him and whatever he’s doing. It could be overbearing and anxiety-inducing, which could lead to the mentioned confrontation. Regarding rejection, Vergil would shut down entirely. Think of a small child being yelled at by a parent: they’ll run and hide, crying in a dark corner of their room until someone comes to find them (if they come at all). He would shut that person out entirely, too embarrassed and ashamed to even show his face to them again. I see him locking himself away in his room for days, only having enough energy to cry and write. If not that, he’d just disappear entirely, practically falling off the face of the earth until he’s pushed down the ugly feelings enough to return. He would behave coldly to the person there after, even if it internally killed him.

#i hope you like this!#thanks again !#devil may cry #dmc #vergil #dante #writing #fanfic #vergil sparda #dmc vergil #vergil sparda x reader #dante sparda #dmc dante #dante sparda x reader #dmc headcanons #headcanons #asks

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spinningwebsandtales · 8 months ago

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Imagine Vergil Protecting You After You're Injured

Vergil X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, violence, reader is wounded

Word Count: 767

(A/N:) Sorry I have been MIA folks! But I'm back and hopefully will be writing more and getting back into the swing of things. I've been wanting to write, but every time I sat down the words alluded me. So I took a little bit of a break and focused more on my artwork. Now I hope to continue to give attention to both my hobbies. So keep an eye for more stories in the future! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Vergil never felt that having back-up in fights was necessary, as he felt perfectly capable of taking care of business on his own. Power was his only goal in mind as he fought. Becoming the best, becoming stronger. Leaving himself unquestionably the best and most powerful being in existence. Leaving his brother Dante in the dust, like the vermin he is. Then Vergil came across you, a devil hunter in your own right, and he begrudgingly acknowledged your skills in the art of slaying demons. It was a fluke, he had told himself, that you ran into him hunting the same hoard of devils. It was a fluke that you fought alongside him perfectly. A fluke that you had his inner devil half purring at your nearness. Now it was a common occurrence for you both to take missions together.

What had changed his mind about you, he couldn't remember. And now it seemed abnormal whenever you weren't at his side. You were a fragile human, completely mortal, but your powers and strength made even the most powerful of the devil hoards cower and fall by your blade. Vergil refused to let you forget your humanness, but as you were always quick with retorts. You made sure that Vergil never forgot that he was also half human. He tried really hard to forget that, in his pursuit of power that his father and stupid twin brother had given up for the side of humanity. Vergil would scoff, roll his eyes, and march away leaving you to sprint to catch up. But he couldn't fight the small grin coming to his lips, despite trying to hide it, of course you'd notice and not leave him alone until you were satisfied in embarrassing him.

Once again you and Vergil found yourselves taking on another hoard of demons. This group had dug deep into a small town and refused to go down easy. Slash marks marred your face and despite blood flowing into one eye, you refused to back down. Vergil snarled for you to run away, but you stubbornly widened your stance ready to face another wave of attack. All he could do was curse you loudly and hope to keep your now blind side protected while you protected your other side. Limbs and heads of demons falling at your feet, until a Sin Scythe cut through it's own allies just to plunge the scythe into your guts.

Your cries of pain shattered Vergil's concentration as he watched in horror as you crumbled to the ground. His devil side raging inside as the scythe was pulled from your still form. He trigged in blind rage stepping in front of your fallen form and taking out the rest of the hoard in a wave of power. He tried to calm himself, to switch back but all he could manage was a few of his limbs and most of his facial features. Spittle flew from his lips as he tried to soothe his fury, while he checked for a pulse. Your heartbeat met his scaly fingertips and when he pressed a warm hand to your wound, you whined. He snarled more and your eyes fluttered open.

"Vergil?"

"You're losing a lot of blood," he replied. His voice deeper than normal, but that had to do with the fact he was fighting hard to keep from fully transforming again as the blood in his veins continued to boil in anger.

"How many are left," you panted. Always worried about the mission instead of yourself and it made him roll his eyes.

"Dead," his blunt reply made you stop asking questions. Your eyes clouded in pain Vergil scooped you up easily. "We have to get this taken care of."

"Vergil," you gasped. "Slow down. It feels like I'm coming apart at the seams."

"You'll just have to hang on a little bit longer. Until we can get clear so I can use the Yamato to open a portal."

"If you say so." You grumbled. "But don't complain if my innards stain your pretty clothes."

"I'm more worried about losing you."

Vergil's reply stunned you both and his body began to tense until you gently cupped his cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised.

"Good because I'll tease you for eternity for being taken out by a Sin Scythe," he smirked and you pinched his nose in protest. While your warm blood, had him fighting the anger inside, Vergil's top priority was to take care of you first and then go make more demons' lives living nightmares for even laying a finger on you.

#Vergil X Reader #Vergil / Reader #Vergil #DMC #Devil May Cry #Vergil Imagine #DMC Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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actuallysaiyan · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 6: Impact Play/Villain

warnings: impact play, dark themes, smut, demon trigger, monster fucking, angst, unprotected sex word count: 0.5k pairings: Vergil x Fem!Reader teaser: Even if you wanted to move, you wouldn’t be able to. You shudder when you feel the long tongue soothing over the wounds.

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist: @saotoru, @cherryblossombankai, @sindulgent666 @chilichopsticks

Seeing him cause so much destruction was breaking your heart. You wish you could reach out to him and make him see that he is still so worthy of your love. The more he destroyed, the more he crushed, the more he was breaking your heart.

Watching him lose control of his own sanity was making you cry. For so long, you fought to keep him by your side. You hadn’t known Vergil for long, but the impact he made on your life was monumental. Together you tried to heal from your respective pasts, but he couldn't keep going with his pain.

His devil trigger form looks at you, and he quickly rushes over to you. You're pinned to the wall before you even know what’s going on. His tail comes up to wrap around your neck. You squeak as it begins to squeeze on your airways. You’re struggling to catch your breath as you look at your lover.

“V-Vergil…”

Your clothes are torn off by his large claws. They nick you, leaving blood to drip down your body. His devil trigger growls loudly, leaning in to lap up the blood. You are frozen to the spot. Even if you wanted to move, you wouldn’t be able to. You shudder when you feel the long tongue soothing over the wounds.

“I…I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen when you hear him speaking to you in that distorted voice. Then you feel something prodding at your entrance. You reach out to cling to him as he impales you on his cock. There’s a lot of resistance, causing you to beg him to stop. You look at him tearfully, begging for him to slow down.

“Sorry I can’t…” The distorted voice says.

He pushes even more into you. He growls as your tight walls begin to flutter around him. You swear you can see stars dancing in your vision. He begins to pound himself into you, causing you to scream and moan his name. There’s warmth coming from him as he fucks you relentlessly. You cling to him as if he is the only thing keeping you together at this moment.

Then he transforms back into himself. You see the tears that are in his eyes. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss. His forehead leans against yours as he pumps his hips slowly.

“You keep me sane, and I hurt you. How can I keep hurting you like this?”

You cling to him as he picks up his pace once more. The pleasure builds more and more and more. A startled cry erupts from you as your orgasm hits you hard. You shudder as Vergil pumps into you harder and faster. His teeth sink into your neck, drawing blood. You feel warmth filling you up; shots of thick seed fill you.

“You always show me softness…how can a beast like me be soft?”

The devil trigger is before you once more, grabbing you with its tail and flying off with you in its clutches. You want to believe he will be gentle with you, but something tells you that it won’t be perfect.

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

#bacon.writes #kinktober 2024 #vergil x reader #vergil x you #vergil x y/n #dmc vergil x reader #dmc vergil #devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #devil may cry vergil #devil may cry vergil x reader

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viciousvortexx · 3 months ago

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Insomnia

Sometimes after missions, Vergil haves a lot of struggle to fall asleep, so you spend time with him in the office.

★ warnings: NSFW, oral sex (male receiving), +18 content

★ vergil x gn reader

Sometimes after a long mission, despise the physical exhaustion of his body, Vergil is unable to sleep as soon as he goes back home, maybe it's because of all the adrenaline and rush to kill demons that still endures on his blood after hours of hunting, he just can't close his eyes, restlessness on it's pure form. At times like this, he needs to distract his head a bit to slow down before bed, but the empty side of the mattress beside you plus hearing the sound of his light steps through the hallway wake you up from your slumber within the blink of an eye.

You know exactly where he is, it's not a surprise when you find him in the office, the soft warm light of the lampshade dances through his tired figure, a poetry book in hands while the other one holds his own chin, legs gorgeously crossed. How he manges to look so classy and beautiful even on a restless night? Vergil was so concentrated that he barely see you coming, but the devil always feels your presence.

“What are you doing awake? Can't sleep either?” He gives a quick glance by the corner of his icy eyes, and after seeing your almost shy nod, a soft chuckle comes deep from his lungs.

“Come here.” Vergil pats his lap, and you don't think twice before joining him, knowing you won't be sleeping so soon if he won't go to bed. Your read rests on his shoulder, eyes reading quietly with him, you notice the Yamato was right beside the armchair, just another clear signal of how restless he was, still aware and ready if he needs to unsheathe the katana again. Gods, you can only think about how much you missed him, it's not always that Vergil is so physical, so what you truly missed was simply knowing he was home, to hear the heel tip sound of his boots ghosting around, that was enough. Yet, there's no way you're going to deny how good his hand feels right now, caressing the curve of your waist, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin, a silent need growing more and more with the strange tension in the office.

You just wanted to kiss him right now, anywhere, so you do, showering his face with quick smooches, hands squeezing the muscles of his arms. Vergil doesn't seem to mind at all, in reality he seems pretty pleased with your affection. Seeing his approval, within seconds your hips are moving on his lap grinding in circles, seeking for attention, and you have it real quick, the thick bulge on his leather pants tells you more than anything. Vergil groans, making you expect a cold rebuke, yet, he only seems to hold his book tightly and squeeze your soft body, the way he doesn't take the eyes away from the book it's a little annoying, even more annoying when you know he does this only because it's too stubborn to admit his desire. It feels like a challenge to make him admit he needs you carnally, time to do something, since Vergil is not the only one in need. You quite jerking around, standing up only to kneel down before him, right between his long majestic legs under the desk. This finally catches his eyes, making Vergil stare down, arching an eyebrow, his expression remains neutral, except for his eyes that don't lie about the need.

“What are you doing, little bird?”

“Why don't you just relax and let me take care of that? You can keep reading, y'know...” Smirks, already caressing the leather fabric that covers his legs, trailing up to his bulge only to squeeze it like you're saying "and by that, I mean this." The devil sighs, when he thinks about relieve stress in a carnal way, it's always about eating you out mercilessly, yet this time the proposition is different.

“... Right, go ahead.” Vergil speaks briefly, already returning his attention to the book, playing your game, he kind of like to receive this attention from you while doing something else. That's all you needed to start undoing his pants, button open and zipper down, licking your lips in anticipation. Five seconds and his leather prison is pulled down just enough so his hard like rock member can spring out. You can hear Vergil sighing in relief when his cock is exposed to the cold air in the office, but he doesn't take the eyes from the book, keeping the other hand on his leg just in case you need some quick manners.

Mouth watering, aiming to please, your lips find the leaking tip to deposit a soft kiss, a tender testament of how much you needed him right now. Kissing and licking him, you smear your own lips with his leaking essence, his taste is the best, and you savour every second by flicking your tongue relentlessly on his frenulum. Vergil's body twitch in response, biting back any sounds of pleasure while he still seems focused on reading. He was playing it so damn right it's a bit frustrating, good heavens, at this point you just wanted him to fuck your face senseless, yet the man doesn't even stare down. You needed to do something to weaken him, to break through his fortress. What's the best way to get his attention if not doing something that never fails to surprise him? With his shaft in hands, you start to softly hit it on your cheek a few times, leaving a small wet spot on your skin, and within seconds, jackpot. He was wide eyed, the book settled down on the arm of the chair, but he quickly scoffs grabbing your head with a demanding strong grip. This makes your heart pound so fast, he fell for it.

“You want me?” He rubs softly the tip of his dick on your lips, breathing heavily and frowning. Suddenly, that bratty smirk you had vanishes when Vergil himself hits your check with his shaft again, feeling the urge to show who is control.

“I made you a question, do you want me, darling?”

"Y-yes Vergil, I want you, I need you, please...” the response was shaky, you swallow hard looking at him with pleading eyes, almost as if you're fearing him for suddenly taking back all the lead of this situation, damn, he knows how to turn tables so quickly.

“You're such a good little thing.” His lips quirked up, knowing he could make you beg much more than this, except that now it's not the day for this kind of game. He slowly pushes his throbbing cock inside your awaiting mouth, the feeling of having your mouth full and to feel your warmth engulfing him caught both shaking with satisfaction to finally have each other. Vergil holds the armchair as your head start to move around him, one hand gently guiding you through his hardness, devouring him like your favorite treat. Actually, he really is.

Your desperate hands hold onto his thighs, the pace growing more intense like you can't get enough of him, the nods of your head get a bit sloppy from how excited you get, the sight of his cock disappearing into your velvet mouth just drives him crazy, his head falling behind as he slowly bucks his hips forward as if trying to motivate you to take it even deeper, but also holding your head in place to make it less clumsy. Challenge accepted, after a deep breath, his shaft is all the way inside to the hilt, his husky moans getting more and more hard to hold back at this point, Vergil doesn't make for the loud type, but can't help when that warm greedy mouth takes him so well. The devil wanted to take you on his arms and carry to the bedroom so bad, only to ravish you in any way possible, though you suck him off so deliciously it's too overwhelming to make him think straight.

You are about to pull your head away when he glances at you with a look that says a firm and commanding "No", only to push your head against his groin, making you gag with his cock. That little gagging sound it's enough to make him kick the bucket, fucking your mouth with wild abandon. Drool is dripping from the corners of your spent mouth as you hold your breath to not gag again, Vergil won't stop his demand, holding your hair back in a ponytail, low guttural moans echoing from his lips as he keeps pushing his throbbing member at the back of your throat. You could even hear him mutter something with his devil trigger voice, although your head is too foggy to make it coherent. That was so dirty, but at the same time, so loveable, you feel how much he needs you, his beloved mate that he looks at with so much longing and affection, brushing away the hair that got stuck on the drool in your blush mess cheeks, Vergil guides your head back, a string of saliva connecting your swollen red lips to his tip leaking tip.

“Darling... hold still, I will...” his voice was incredibly hoarse and embargoed, he aims his cock at your cheek to finally shoot a thick load of cum all over it, the mess ends up spilling to your shirt and other spots in your face. He looked so damn feverish and passionate, closing his eyes tightly, a languid low moan fall from his lips with the overwhelming pleasure to mark his mate, Vergil milks every last drop from his orgasm with a few strokes, just this once he wanted to make a mess.

“Mine, you're mine...” Vergil whispers possessively like a prayer to himself, caressing your cheek with his thumb, you can see all the longing on his tired yet satisfied blue eyes, slowly coming back from his high.

“I missed you, Vergil.” Your knees hurt a little from kneeling there for too long, careful to not hit your head on the desk, Vergil helps you stand up and then takes a tissue from his pocket to clean your face and shirt.

“I missed you too, little bird.” He takes your hand to place a soft kiss to your knuckles, a sweet contrast with his wild need from minutes ago. In the end, the sweet aftercare always was your favorite part, taking care of him till he falls asleep in your arms, with dreams of a brand new day to love him.

#devil may cry #vergil #vergil sparda #writing #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil fanfiction #vergil sparda fanfiction #vergil x reader #vergil smut #smut #holy shit #i love him

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icycoldninja · 4 months ago

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Can you write the DMC boys with the reader in a scenario where she had to be bridal carried by them?

I just rewatched “The Cat returns” and the scene where the MC is exhausted, panting on the stairs when one of the male leads decided to bridal carry her because the antagonist are still in hot pursuit

(Seriously this Ghibli film is underrated asf, more ppl should know abt it)

In this scenario, the reader could’ve had an injured ankle due to loosing footing or just exhausted from being chased by demons for a long period of time so she just stands there panting, urging them to leave her behind as she’ll catch up later

They boys are like: “no..not on my watch” 😒

So they snatched her up and carry her away while being pursued by loads of demons from behind not so far away

P/S: They’re still in their crushing phase, so the reader is just bashfully and embarrassingly brooding in their arms while trying to avoid eye contact with them bcz of how hot her face is and they’re trying to search her gaze, hoping to find the answer they need within her eyes

Yeah sure, here you go.

Sparda boys + V x Reader bridal carry headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-You guys were running up the stairs to a long, winding tower while being chased by a horde of demons.

-Somewhere along the way, you twisted your ankle and fell behind.

-You being the selfless person you are, you urged Dante to leave you there, but he being the stubborn ass he was, he refused.

-Sinc you were pretty much a cripple at this point and the demons were gaining on you, Dante ran up, scooped you into his arms, and carried you up the remaining flights of stairs.

-You never expected something like this to happen and didn't know what to do, so you just remained there, blushing and trying very hard not to show him how red you were.

-Dante was not helping in the slightest; he was staring at you like you held all the secrets to the universe. This whole situa35ion was very awkward, but also cute.

■ Vergil ■

-You and Vergil had been running from demons for hours; you'd grown completely exhausted and were now doubled over and panting heavily on the landing.

-Vergil saw you and sighed. Humans, pathetic, weak creatures with poor stamina.

-You told him to just go and let you fend for yourself, but Vergil knew that if you couldn't even ascend a flight of stairs, you wouldn't stand against all those demons.

-Without a word, he rushed over to you, lifted you into his arms, and began carrying you around bridal-style.

-You were absolutely mortified in this position, evident in your tomato-red face.

-Vergil was only continuing to stare at you, making your embarrassment that much worse.

□ Nero □

-Nero knew you wouldn't be able to keep running up the stairs any longer and he was right.

-There you were, doubled over and panting heavily, your lungs burning with air while a horde of demons and other foul creatures scampered after you.

-You knew this too and tried to get him to leave you, but we all know Nero's a stubborn bastard like his uncle, and that he'd never leave.

-If he didn't get you out of there now, you would be overrun, so Nero hurried on over to you, scooped you up like a sack of potatoes, and bridal carried you up the stairs.

-You were absolutely flabbergasted and felt a powerful blush growing across your face, but you did your best to hide it.

-Nero noticed your furious nervousness and couldn't help but smile. Cute thing like you must have feelings for him, how precious.

● V ●

-Although not a normal human, V's stamina is quite similar to yours.

-Both of you were running from demons, just trying to survive, when he noticed that you weren't huffing and puffing alongside him.

-He turned, looked, and saw that you had twisted your ankle somehow and were now sitting on one of the landing areas, watching the encroaching demons fearfully.

-V stumbled over to you, and despite your protests, decided to pick you up and carry you away, bridal style.

-How he did not collapse into a shambling pile of bones is beyond anyone's guess, though Griffon suspects it was "the power of love" that gave him strength.

-Regardless of how he did it, you found yourself blushing madly at V's noble behavior and try as you might, couldn't hide your huge grin.

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bloodcasket · 2 years ago

Text

FOR YOU, I SHALL DESTROY MYSELF

PAIRING: Obsessive!Vergil Sparda x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: NOT PROOF-READ, alcohol consumption, stalking, obsession (obsessive behavior on vergil's part), possessiveness, acts of ownership, mentally unwell reader, submissive reader, sensual themes, smut (lightly written), murder, violence, small blood-play.

WC: 7,481

DESCRIPTION: To save yourself, you make a deal with a demon.

11:35 PM ; DECEMBER 31st ─ THE DEAL.

Eyes are watching you, sparing simple glimpses through each passing second. Irises and pupils that become distorted and ugly as they peek through wine glasses, the color glossing over with a crimson hue. The vision feels judgmental, full of ridicule. Too many people huddled close, speaking in hiccupping boasts. Everybody here wishes you gone. They're all watching, smiling. Smiling at your failure.

The air is pungent, reeking of sweat, and of rotten musk. People are slicked over, kneeling over the bar's countertop, sloppy lips molding over one another while with a lazy smile. You swear you feel the graze of an unwanted hand across your back, but you had mistaken it for a waft of air coming from the entrance doors. The breeze comes just as quick as it goes, you wish you could have drifted with it.

How embarrassing of you to slouch forward on the marble countertop, and draw nervous breaths of panic, thinking that someone had fancied you of all people tonight. How wrong you were. That’s how you had always been, for no one cared for your presence. Just another breath that got lost amongst the others. Another squeak that was overpowered by a shriek.

You want to scream, want to shout, “stop it all!”, but then you catch yourself with a quick breath, and it all comes crashing back down on you. The eyes are looking, yes. But at you? Never. Maybe it was the thick atmosphere, the bustling bodies, the cheers of the new year arriving upon the hour. Maybe it was this that made you feel so anxious, so afraid. So alone. No one by your side.

No one was holding you at this hour, kissing you happily until you saw the clock strike 12. Is that what this is about? You couldn’t understand. You were not blissfully drunk, rather pitifully intoxicated, your mind foggy and your conscious drawing blanks. Your senses were locked, your emotions deepened from the shots of vodka.

Is that what you wish for? For someone to long for you? Arrive right at this location, this exact bar, in hopes to see you?

Why did you come here? How pathetic you were, standing here isolated, swallowing glasses of alcoholic beverages that you found rather disgusting, and all for the hopes it would ease some cracking that formulated inside you. To dull the sharp edges of your ache, your sorrow. It did rather the opposite, only tended to the embers that now rose to flames deep within your soul.

“I must go”, you whispered solemnly, but you did not know who you were whispering it to. Mostly yourself. A woman gives you a strange glance as she hears you mumble to yourself, thinking you're completely hysterical.

I must go, I must go, I must go. You did not need to leave, you only wanted to. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't, but stubbornness is a passion, and you were quite stubborn.

Your movement is quick, unnoticed when you escape away from the public and into the darkness. The atmosphere is light now, fresh, natural as you embrace the cool night. The air is still damp from the rain that soaked the Earth a few minutes ago, but you don’t mind the puddles that soak into your pants as you hustle through them. You would rather thank the chilling water that grows slick upon your calves, the sensation of it easing your heated skin. You prayed it would sober you up, save you from this spinning world of madness.

It's much better to feel this, you think as your drunken state leads you stumbling into an alleyway. Much better to be away, in the darkness, where you belong. Sheltered, and untouched.

You stumble once more and swallow up a whimper as you feel a twist in your ankle, your shaking hands reaching forward to grip sturdily on the brick wall. Your nails flick against the rough surface, growing tarnished with every daring step forward. You were shocked you hadn't fallen yet, but the sprain in your ankle only mocks you, tells you ‘just wait’.

This night, right now, you were to go home.

Had you known any better, you would have prevented a thickening curse that looped into your life just brief moments from now. But instead of caring about your future, you carelessly dawned on the past. Letting a drunken wail tumble down your lips and echo amongst the abyss of the alleyway, not a shroud of light in the distance.

Where do I go? Do I go home? Who will take me home?

Another stumble. You sniffle.

Where are my keys? I can’t see, my eyes hurt. My head aches.

There’s still no light to be seen. Snot bubbles in the blacks of your nostrils, pooling forward.

I shouldn’t have drank. I'm so stupid. Please help, someone help me.

There is a sound of hissing.

“Yes”, you sigh, voice hoarse and groggy. You presume it must be the sound of a car, albeit the sound of a rattling engine that has just been powered to life. To you, it must be a sign you're near a street. You will ask someone to give you a ride, take you away from this area of mental wreckage, and bring you home. Home? You shake yourself for a moment, brushing the confusion away as you keep pushing your legs, turning a sharp corner and searching the best you can for a gateway of exit.

What you find though, is not a chance of escape. It is a street, indeed, but there is no one in sight, no voices to be found, not even the guttural hiss that you swore was an engine. Nothing. Only the copper scent that permeates the air. It is too dark, and too close to midnight for you to make out any colors or hues, only shades and glimmering objects underneath the moonlight.

There, laying upon the gravel, a puddle is slick amongst the road, soaking into the indents of the asphalt. Just like the other rain puddles, you thought the same as this, but as you near it, one thing only becomes clear. The scent. The puddle. The moonlight. The darkness. The hissing. The street.

It is clear now, it is clear. It is the scent of death. Slick upon the road in front of you lay a fresh pool of blood, not yet yielding the hue of brown, rather, crimson. It was new. A new murder. The body is limp, a man that had streamers once grasped firmly in his palm, you could tell as you knelt to examine him. He was most likely late to a new year's party, but now he will be late to any other event in life. His life was cut- taken by the grasp of death.

Your mouth felt dry, your tongue tasted nothing but sour.

Across his bloodied shirt, skin is parted, flesh jarred open like cutting a piece of paper apart with scissors. His laceration is deep, and his organs are no longer holding, being that someone- something has slashed him so thoroughly. His face is colorless, pale, solemn. He was young, he could have had a purpose.

Your heart- you think it has stopped. You take one last look at his lifeless palm, streamers still spread across it, before rising and daringly twisting on your heel, heaving a dry lump down your throat with a solid gulp.

It is only then that you understand, you should have been home. Shouldn’t have gone out. Shouldn’t have been here.

You knew you had done wrong by turning on this street, but the audacity you had to try and run. No one, especially the drunken likes of you, can escape an inhumanly being. But you are stubborn, and you are pitiable. You are by no means an athlete. You are by no means an agile contortionist. You are by no means an intelligent and stable specimen. Only fragile, and weak. Ready to be shattered, like glass.

You are limping with your sprained ankle, and your breaths are erratic as you hear it snarling from the skies above, the hissing- the ecstatic and primal bloodthirst in its howls becoming known as it leaps from the rooftops, crawling down the brick of the buildings and knocking down street signs in its treacherous wake.

You do not last; you had expected this much.

You are taken down by one powerful blow from its elongated arm, sharp like a blade, and as red as the blood you had seen on the street. The creature bounces thematically, so quick to pounce whenever it wishes, its speed and agility making you tremble. Its skin is like armor, rough and built like a shield, you are no match, you are just a human.

“Oh god”, you squeal, its blow not landing on a fatal position on your body, but rather, an area that makes the experience more tortuous, and grueling. Its blade-like hand has swooped through the air and slashed across your arm. You are quick to start bleeding, the wound so deep your body caves in, but you attempt to put pressure on the gushing area with your shaking palm, the salty sweat you leak only makes the ache worse. Your tarnished nails are now drowned with red.

“Oh! Oh”, you cry and cry, not capable of formulating words, but it's not like anyone would hear you now. The creature smells you, draws your scent in. It seems to play with you, revel in the way you squirm and sputter whimpers amongst the concrete. Smells your purity, your innocence. You smell amazing, and delicious, and delectable, and so much better than the man it had originally planned to feast upon. It has decided to play with its food.

You have stopped your attempts to scramble away, you are too weak. Still intoxicated, slightly sobered from the adrenaline that has pulsed within you. Your ankle is still sprained, and your feet are blistered beyond repair. Now, you leak your bloody essence from your arm, and you sob desperate tears, the whites of your eyes now a shade of pink.

Who am I, anyway?

You blink, the demon draws closer.

I shall die here, won't I?

It swipes its blade across your leg, the unharmed one. You scream dryly.

No one will save me...I am doomed.

The monster licks away at its weapon, hissing in glee at your taste.

No one. I have no one. No purpose. I will die here. Yes, I will die.

It brings its arm in the air for the final blow, and you watch without fear, seeing the glint it beholds underneath the moon's luminescence. You are ready. Even through sorrowful tears. You are ready to die here, so beautifully, under the moonlight.

But the blow never reaches you, and the sound of its howl echoes through the air, up and down the street, reaching every space, every crack, every pit of darkness. Its shrill is a sign of its defeat, and you watch in horror as a sword has pierced through its body of armor, tinted with red and black. With much haste, the weapon is sheathed, its slice sounding slick as it pulls out from the demon's flesh, letting the villainous thing fall flat on the street, fallen victim to the same act it made on the young man it killed prior.

You had been so ready, but now here you sit, staring ahead with a curiousness come about your dampened eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of a man. You make out his figure, his face, his weapon, even all through your blurred vision. You had made him out to be aged, his precision with his sword showing experience, but the smoothened, porcelain-like skin he had made him appear youthful. He is beautiful, stunning beyond reason. His majesty standing before you. ‘How old may he have been?’ you found yourself wondering, just as much as he found yourself to be ignorantly staring. A glint about his sharpened, light blue eyes. So light and mysterious that they could resemble gems.

“How ungrateful” the man speaks, his voice is so proper, and yet you make out a scowl from his words, his lips curving to produce a grimace. His jaw is solid, and sharp when he speaks, full lips soft and plump when they frown at the sight of you. You must have looked foolish, for he eyes you with judgement.

“Not even appreciative for the saving of your pitiful human life” he speaks once more, airy, and soft, but it still pierces your soul. “What have you to give?”. His appearance is comparative to his speaking. Monotonous, and yet striking. Dressed in a blackened leather vest, blending into the sheen of his leather pants clad on him, sculpting him out like a shadow of the night. If it wasn’t for his whitened hair, he would be unnoticed, one with the abyss.

You shift for a moment, stained fingers dismantling from your tainted flesh, letting the blood feel cool amongst your skin. You do not move as much as you wished, as once you move your feet to shuffle upward, you wince and pipe out a squeak of agony. You had forgotten the demon tore up your leg, too. You glance upward to catch his eye, to look at him properly, and catch a slight flare of his nostrils, like he had been smelling the air. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and you watch with a distrusting expression. He must have been disgusted by your injury, because the glint in his eye becomes something different. Something you cannot describe. You had mistaken it for being censorious.

“What-what can I give?” you stutter with your words, your speech impaired and jumbled from your prevalent fear, “I...I have nothing to give you. I do not know if I even have a home” you shiver under his predatory gaze, his entirety nothing short of intimidating. “But I have called...I have no one, but I still called. I thought no one would come. But you came. You saved me-you...you-you saved my life. Thank you-” you cut yourself short, your cheeks flush and your breathing growing unstable from your rush of words.

You cannot tell now if you are still intoxicated, still swayed by the alcohol, you do not think you are. You think your emotions have just been bubbled up inside you for so long, that now when you speak to this mysterious savior, you only speak with earnest desire. The desire that has been trapped and hidden.

“I cannot give you anything but myself, I want a place to belong, please, please do not think me foolish. Please take me away, please, I beg of you- I have nowhere to go- no one-”

“Correct- you are a fool. I save you, and you cannot give anything, but yourself. I will kill you now, strike you down, and what purpose will you have?” He tampers with you, watches the rise and fall of your chest, the quiver in your failing body. He has not tucked his sword away safely, for it stays sheathed, and pointed at you. He ushers it forward, letting the weapons tip just barely graze your breast, right above where your heart lay beating wildly in your chest.

“You misunderstand”, he moves a little closer, his coat ruffling along with the passing wind, “I do not save souls, I take them. What has your human life have, that will be of any importance to me?”.

‘That is why he must look so young’, your thoughts are so disorganized, ‘he is a demon himself. Come here, to fight amongst the other demons for his prize as the winner. The king’.

He watches you so closely that all you wish for is to cower away, but how can you? You have no choice but to swallow and look up at him. The same desire in your eyes burning. The same glint in his eyes unreadable. You have yet to know his name as you speak so confidently:

“Then take mine! Take my soul! You have saved me. I will be yours, I swear it. Just take me-won't you? Please, it hurts so much”.

He does not smile, doesn’t even scowl. He only stares, and stares, and stares, his nostrils flaring once more, and his adam’s apple shifting with his intake of a gulp.

You feel a sudden burning sensation rise amongst your arm, and you close your eyes amidst a wince, but when you open them again, he is gone. He hadn’t agreed to your deal. He hadn't even expressed his distaste about it. The strange, and hauntingly gorgeous man became one with the night again, dissipating into the darkness.

There is a sound of sirens arriving in the distance. It is barely distinctive from the blaring pops and explosions that erupt in the sky, the colorful fireworks looming over the city, signaling the new year has arrived.

‘What has your human life have, that will have any importance to me?’, his voice still echoes in your head.

You hadn't even learned his name.

You haven't even learned how important promises may be.

11:35 PM ; DECEMBER 31ST ─ DREAM OF A DEAL

To be a troubled man is one thing.

A man who has had too many tragic events to corrupt him. Make his sanity crumble into dust, to be nothing more than an unrecognizable memory. A man who witnesses everything he loves disintegrate into nothingness, fall past the webs of his fingers, even though he made sure to clench his gnarled hands into fists, to desperately keep close what little he had. He would take in everything as a young boy, see faults to be his own, taking in the blame and guilt, swallowing in the darkness.

To be a demon is another.

A demon who does not care for the strangled screams of the innocent, but rather, takes pleasure from their blood-curdling pleads of mercy. A demon who tastes the life it ends, tearing apart flesh by flesh, skin by skin, bone by bone. Consumes the soul, relishes in their utter terror, growls in pleasure.

Vergil awakes suddenly, sitting himself up on his bed, feeling the blankets crease and bundle into piles beside him as he pushes them off. He sighs and then grumbles, a wave of disappointment reaching him.

To be a demon, Vergil slaughters. To be a human, Vergil dreams. And on this particular night, Vergil has dreamt, and dreamt wonderfully.

The dream felt so real, so lucid, it swept over him like a sacred prophecy, like a vision that would soon come to him if he manifested it enough.

In it, he sat at a table brandished with a red satin cloth placed neatly on the surface, lavish items decorated in the center. The room he’s sitting in is too dim, too blurry and discreet from the low candlelight, but he knows, he knows there is someone sitting with him at the very end of the table.

He’s drinking rich wine, and strangely, he is human in the moment. Smiling from the foggy words that the stranger speaks from the end of the table, his dimples deepening with every bashful grin. The only thing recognizable is how sweet their voice is. How pure. How loving.

“I shall........

I am........

Devoted.....

I am yours.....

take me......

my soul......

is yours”.

They keep chanting and chanting, certain words only memorable. He is so content with this dream, feeling so bound to the pleasant ownership of the mystery person he sits with, but suddenly the candles sway in their low light, and are wiped out within seconds, the sound of the strangers' screams echoing around him. The dream had advanced into a nightmare.

This, is when he wakes. Sweat is sticky against his temples, his heart is thumping hard against his ribcage. He usually does not let his composure slip over something so trivial, but dreams are different. Dreams can control you, paralyze you, show you your deepest fears. And Vergil's fear is to grow sensitive, grow close to something again, all to watch it die. And fall away from his hands over and over again.

The troubled half-demon slips away into the night, far from devil may cry. He roams the streets, gawks in misery at bustling restaurants filled with jubilant voices. He curses whatever presence to make him feel so weak, to make him feel so unnerved that he must find a way to escape his emotions.

He is miserable as much as he is restless, clutching his precious Yamato in his firm palm, turning corner by corner, slaying creature by creature to occupy his time, and smelling scent by scent. The scent of sweat from the cooped-up bars, smelling the soil after it ripened from the fresh rain, smelling chemicals after another civilian sets off fireworks in honor of the upcoming new year. Oh, how he despised such human holidays.

He turns yet another corner, and something piques his interest. Yet another smell to devour, and not from the aroma of fresh bread, or a floral plant, but the richness of blood. It is so powerful that he cannot contain himself, the demon within him begging him to get just a taste. It is nothing he’s ever come across. He gets closer and closer, and then he hears it.

“Oh! Oh!”

It is a mere mistake for his arrival in this area. He only intended to brush some weights off his shoulders, help his thumping heart soften until he felt numb and devoid of human sensation.

Although, the voice he hears, the voice that is crying. It is pure. It is sweet. It is so familiar. It is the voice from his dream. It is you.

It is a mere mistake for him to be here, and yet, when he sees you wince and squirm, to see you crawl and bleed along the street, so frail and abused, he feels infuriated.

He draws out his Yamato, lurches it forward until it has made good use, its blade piercing the “Fury” in front of him. The demon that dares to touch the stranger of his dream cries and crashes. He is finally able to see you properly.

Your weak eyes tremble so softly, glistening and wet with human tears. His heart thumps faster.

“What have you to give?” . He only meant to tease you. He doesn’t understand why he hasn’t left yet.

Your blood smells divine. Your tears, he yearns to lick away with his warm tongue. He drinks it in, trying to deny urges.

“Then take me! Take my soul!”. He only meant to tease you. He doesn’t understand why he didn’t take you away that night, claim you, make his dream become reality.

Your voice. Your blood. Your soul.

He hadn't even learned your name.

He hadn't even learned that an interest can blossom into obsession.

9:30 PM ; MARCH 31ST ─ A REUNION

Months are brushed by with time, events going faster than it usually does. That incident, that specific night, it stayed with you, lingering in your memories. It was just until recently that you finally healed, your thick lacerations that once bled and bled, and lifted your skin with an unpleasant swell, have finally softened. The skin has finally connected, now a lighter shade and smoother compared to the rest of your body. Inches of imperfection that mock you.

Sometimes it all came back to you, the bar, the people, the alley, the shadows, the street, the monster, the man. When you thought back to it, it was practically unbelievable, you had almost considered it a part of your drunken imagination, until your eyes connected with your abused skin. It was real, that was true. Everything you said─that was true as well.

Everything….you wished it had not been true. Maybe it would have been better if the man had ended you. Point his sword a little further into your chest, impale you so gracefully like he had the other creature.

The blue, crystalline eyes that glimmered like water, but held such a roguish stare. He had been a demon himself, you knew that much. A demon disguised as a beautiful god.

You would go out on certain days, the once chilly air molding into a choking humidity, one that is heavy and warm in the spring. The crowds would soon get thicker than before in the streets, people hand in hand, side by side. You would ignore them, walk to destinations with a purposeful stride, all until you caught a glimmer hidden amongst the sweaty crowds.

That blue shade. That white hair. That blackened vest. That unblemished skin. That stare. It was only until you blinked your eyes in confusion, just to notice it was gone. He was gone.

‘Do not worry so much’ you would speak to yourself, into the depths of your head, ‘you are only anxious. He is gone now. He is gone forever’. You were still innocent till this point, still youthful and naïve. You would soon learn that your consciousness is a powerful thing, but only through a life of corruption. Through lessons of toil.

Your shoes drag up the weathered steps, its beaten surface feeling so dull under your body. You remember walking up these apartment stairs that night, seeing how something can be so challenged over time. To become so walked over, and used, all until it is nothing but dirt and dust.

You cried as you sat on them, as you finally came to recognize where you belong. What your “home” seemed to be. A place that is sorrowful, empty, and cruel, cast away into the pitiful parts of the city.

Your feet push up the final step, your fingers fumbling over uncertain objects in your bag, your eyebrows creasing and wrinkles molding onto your face as a frustrated expression is shown.

You mumble words of impatience, “fuck”, and “where is it” tumbling past your lips with a huff, all until you finally catch hold of the thing you’ve been desperately searching for, lifting the jingling keys to connect into the slot on your apartment door.

When it is opened, you shuffle yourself inside, feeling worn and tattered from hours of work, tossing your bag aside until it collides with the wooden floorboards.

A glow is spread across the room, presumably from your oil lamp, which you took much caution in making sure was never lit when you were out. You creep on your feet, staying nimble on your toes as you turn a corner, your vision taking hold of what waits in the living room.

The oil lamp is heated, its light flickering playfully, dancing inside the glass. You feel yourself melting, as it feels so warm in here, you swear the room will just enclose any second, swallow your existence. You are right about one thing, but oblivious to the other. Oblivious to the lounge chair that sits adjacent to the golden light, a figure sitting coolly upon it. Leather-clad legs, that are long and graceful, sit neatly crossed. Like a king sitting on his rightful throne. His weapon placed along the expanse of his lean thighs, his gloved hands gripping over it so hard you saw his knuckles turn white.

“Took you quite a while, don’t you think?”, his tone is soft, smooth and devoid of emotion, as if him being here was perfectly normal. “Why don’t you sit?”, the way he says it does not sound like a suggestion, but rather, a demand.

The man does not turn an inch to face you, no movement in his posture, or disfigurement in his poise. He is regal, he is dominant, and he is waiting. Waiting for you to seat yourself beside him, in which, you do not spare a second to do so. His grip on his sword becomes tighter, and his lips purse as you pass him.

You do not ask him why he is here, and why would you need to? He is much more powerful than anyone else is. You watch him carefully as you lower yourself down amongst the other chair, your hands clasping into an anxious fist, your palms suddenly growing clammy. You would have never expected to meet him again.

“The deal” he starts off, his eyes now meeting yours, pupils blown enough to show you your own tormented reflection, “I have agreed to it. Your soul-”

“I did not mean it”, you are quick to interrupt him, trying to make your tone assertive and brave. You are only the opposite, as your voice sounds meek and hoarse the moment it slips off your quivering tongue. That is your first mistake. To try him. To deny a half-demon.

“What I said was a mistake....” you are lying through your teeth, “I am sorry for troubling you, but I’ve decided that my life is much better-”

You yelp suddenly as his hand shifts off his weapon and to the arm of your chair, dragging it forward so that you're closer, his lengthy fingers gripping so roughly on the material you think it will break the seams.

“Your life was never yours the moment you promised yourself to me” he speaks with a snarl, words coming out in an aggravated hiss, almost seeming offended. “You dare deny me, after I saved your life?’. He leans in, his lips folding into his teeth so he can growl at you, to come off as threatening, to tell you there is no other choice.

“You had told me that my life was not important to you” you whispered in a feeble voice, glancing at him through the webs of your eyelashes, fingers still molded into one another and shaking with such a capacity you thought you would shatter. “I do not even know your name”.

He gazes at you for a few mere seconds, seconds that feel impossibly long under the authority of his still eyes. He sits up, adjusting himself away from you, the palm that was clutched on your chair now nimbly easing itself off and back to his body. He now settles his interest on the wall of the room, you take it that he doesn’t wish to see your pathetic face trembling under him.

“It is Vergil. My name”, he states, matter-of-factly, his form still glistening under the light as it waxes and wanes, casting indistinguishable shadows along the walls. He holds his composure well, head held high with determination, and lack of regret.

‘Vergil’. You repeat his name, over and over in your head, as if it’s a mantra. “Vergil...”, you say it aloud this time, curiosity tinted in your sweet voice. You watch him, waiting for a sudden sneer, but he only shudders from your silken tone, as if he hungered to hear you say it. “My name is-”

“I know who you are, more than I care to admit”, he quite enjoyed interrupting your sentences, you dared not to bark back. You feared he would kill you if you did so.

“I have known you for a very long time” he huffs, voice thick now and heated “you have nowhere to run. You foolish thing. It is better just to listen”.

And what did you have that could possibly make you say no? A future, filled with endless experiences? A career, one that pays well and never puts a single callous along your frail hands? A family, something you can hold on to, rely on when you need it? Happiness, tranquility, security in yourself? These things did not exist. You had nothing, truly, and that is why you had offered yourself to him that night.

If not anything, your soul had no purpose. If not anything, it wouldn’t hurt to try with him.

“O-okay” you are suddenly stuttering on your own words; mouth unsteady with every syllable spoken, throat dry. You had not realized you were crying. Vergil finally turned to watch you; his emotions unreadable.

“The deal, let’s do it”.

You have learned his name.

You have learned how powerful promises can be.

The deal had been made, stamped by your own, sobbing words.

MONTH OF JANUARY ─ A STALKING PRESENCE

Vergil takes your words harder than the blow of any weapon. Your scent, your quivers, your voice, your promise. It visits him in his dreams, so much that he refuses even a second to close his eyes. It is all familiar, every night, any occurrence. The moment he drifts away, he is met with the red satin laid on the wooden table, the candelabra in the center, a dim light glowing on the apples of your cheeks. The pure smile that creases up on your lips. Then, your words of devotion.

You? Of all people? How dare you. You have ruined him.

He spends weeks in a fit of utter rage, in denial of the lust he feels for you. The want, no, the need to have you by his side.

Then, he gives in, deciding it will all just stop if he listens, and do what needs to be done to restore his sanity. Now he must have you. Make his dream come true.

You are naïve, and innocent. So stupid to not even catch him standing beside your bed, in your own home. His large, calloused hands would reach to rub gentle caresses into your resting face at night, watching your lips part to let out breathless sighs as you swayed toward him. Drool would draw slick against the corners of your mouth, bubbling on your pruned bottom lip, and Vergil would conceitedly swipe over it with his thumb, popping it in his mouth delicately to taste you. His tongue was greedy as it lapped over his thumb, he had to chain himself down, force himself not to kiss you.

“Hush, little one”, he would coo softly in your ear whenever you would whine from a nightmare, “it won't be long before I take you”.

He did this for months, watched you carefully, crept beside you like he was your own shadow. Made sure to fade into the crowds when you grew too close. He did well to figure you out, to deny his obvious feelings until he could not contain himself anymore.

Your neighborhood had been notorious for demon cases, a dangerous residence. He could not let this be. To imagine your life taken by some measly creature? To bury their teeth in your flesh? His flesh. Your body? His body. Your soul? His soul.

He had obliterated every object of evil that could possibly even lay a finger on you, even went out of his way to grab stalking humans that eyed you for too long, dragging them into alleys, his hands locking onto their neck and twisting just enough to hear a snap.

He has lived this cruel, tormenting life for too long. If this is the way he must have something, he will not spare any moment to have it. How sweetly you gave yourself up to him. Now, he will visit you. Take you. Own you, and never let you go. You would comply, wouldn’t you? You had told him yourself, you had nothing.

Your weakness made him tremble, made him thirst just as he did when he was young, 19 all over again.

He is selfish, he knows this. He does not care. Power is the only thing he knows, and power will get you to succumb to his touch, let him take you over and over, just as he did in all his wicked dreams.

You need him.

You need him

You...need him?

5:00 PM ; APRIL 10TH ─ THE CLAIMING

He has taken you far away from the public, through wooded forests, and up into the billowing mountains, a manor he has promised you. A life that will no longer battle with you, only a future that is peaceful, as long as you promise to be his.

You have figured out that he only is kind when you obey his orders, and speak to him in a submissive, soft manner. It would be best not to challenge him, for your own good.

He does not speak to you when you travel to the manor, and you make no attempt to ask him anything, being that your jaw is locked, and your head is sweltering with panicked assumptions whenever you are near him.

He is tall, and looms over you like a giant when he stands. His legs are long, and he takes elegant, yet long strides. Tells you “make haste!” whenever you fall behind as he guides you through your new home, in which you rush up beside him shyly, gazing up at his face for guidance. He takes great notice of this, and grips his Yamato a little tighter, just as he always does whenever you grow too close. Maybe he found you annoying? Wanted to rip you to shreds with his beloved sword?

You did not know he was only simply holding himself back.

“Come” he beckons you over to him with his hand spread open, waiting patiently for you to take it. “I feel rather hungry, let us eat”, he suggests, and you oblige like the obedient soul that you must be for him. You place your smaller hand in his, watching as his fingers wrap over your knuckles greedily, his hand interlocking yours into his. Like a butterfly that has been trapped in the silken web of a black spider.

He only smiles as you shake in his possessive grip. “Feeling shy?”, he teases, but you shake your head in denial, which makes him only grin further, the dimples on his cheeks becoming pronounced. “Good, you mustn't be. Not with me”.

He takes you through the doors of the one room you have not seen yet, which is the dining room, and is wide and spacious just as much as the other parts of the house are. This is much more lavish than your apartment back in the desolate city.

The floors are wooden, and the walls are colored with a beautiful crimson red, which is a wonderful comparison to the red silk that is spread along the oaken table that sits strangely in the center, small candles sitting along the edge of the top, leaving the center depressingly empty. There are no chairs in sight, and you turn to question Vergil, only to catch him boldly staring back, his pupils enlarged and full just the same as the night he came to confess to you.

“Won’t you...” he licks his lips as he keeps his eyes trained on you, hand still squeezing onto yours firmly, “take a seat?”.

“But there is nowhere to sit”, you interject, batting your eyelashes in worry, gulping down a lump of uneasiness. He chuckles lowly in response, his reaction being so irregular that it terrified you.

“Well then, shall I help you?” he spoke to you, leaning down to murmur in your ear, biting gently down on the flesh of your earlobe. “Yes”, you squeak, and he guides you toward the table, pushing you down until you lay sprawled on top of the red satin, his gripping palm letting go of yours finally so he could peel off his long black coat. His arms now remain bare, muscles protruding as he grips your ankles and yanks you closer to him, casting your leg over his shoulder, your toes crazing over his leather vest.

“You understand, don’t you?” he has ripped your clothes off, one by one, impatient and selfish, a salacious side you have never seen from him before. “I like to claim what is mine”.

And claim he does, as he kisses marks into your precious skin, his teeth grazing over your body until his softness blends into primal, and the kisses transform into passionate bites. There are bruises along your neck, thick along your collarbone, sucked into your breasts, placed sloppily along the stretch of your stomach, and swollen along the flesh of your thighs. His saliva so slick against you, seeping into your pores, becoming one with your body.

“Please” you cry out a plead, fingers shaking and reaching out to grab him, you do not know what you are begging for. He just licks away your tears, tastes the saltiness of your sweat, swallows your lips into his, his nose brushing along your cheek as he finally gets to feel you against him, to taste your consent.

“Vergil” you whine breathlessly when he parts, his spit slobbered all over your bottom lip and down to your chin, his consuming kiss making your lips bright and puffy, all from his desire. He is gawking at you, eyes drinking you in, making sure he will ingrain this image of you in his head. It is that expression that you could never understand. Now you know, it is the expression of lust, of yearning desire.

“Tell me” his voice is akin to a growl, like a wolf that is ready to swallow its prey, “tell me that you are mine. That you belong to me. That your soul is mine to keep forever”.

The wax of the white candles dribble from the wick, become dry and hard along the oak of the table, they dance and shake in a ritualistic essence, wickedly excited when Vergil takes you, fills you up, chuckles when you grip shyly on his forearms with your shaking hands.

“Tell me” he coaxes out a throaty groan, rocking his hips into you, hip bones colliding with the flesh of your thighs. A sickening heat rushes to your face, makes you dizzy and apprehensive. You shelter your flustering face, whimpering from sudden pleasure.

“Do not hide your face from me”, he leans down, connecting his chest with yours, perfectly bottoming out within you, like two puzzle pieces that needed each other. He grabs the hand that you hide your face with between his pearly white teeth, canines biting down hard enough to draw blood in the center of your soft palm, your red liquid pooling on his lips, he only fucks you harder.

“I shall only be yours!” you cry out, palm feeling heavy under his tongue, the warm muscle lapping away at you as if your taste is divine.

“I am devoted to you!” he grunts at your words like a madman.

“I am yours, you can take me” he takes your fingers into his mouth, thrusts perfectly articulated, breath heavy. Candles still dancing with pride.

“My soul, is yours”.

He finishes, staking his claim.

MONTHS LATER ─ FINAL CONFESSION

Forks and knives collide and clash against porcelain plates, the light is dim, the dining room a sacred place for you and your husband. It is the evening that you two sit for dinner, Vergil keeping himself trained on you with a possessive glare.

You are tipsy from the wine he has served you, hiccupping from the heat that bubbles up inside your esophagus. A tingling aftertaste sweet on your tongue, you swallow, it only enhances. Your hands find themselves under the table, an index finger tracing the scar he impeded on your palm. A scar formulated from a rough love-making months ago, it is stunning compared to the ones on your arm and leg.

“Do you remember…” you start, soft-spoken, vision hazy and the surroundings seeming opaque, “do you remember when you saved me that night?”.

He smirks, seeing your question more as a challenge. His nails trace over the condensation on his glass, feeling the water topple along his skin and down to the leather of his glove.

“In our garden? Stopping you from falling in the rose bushes?”

You shake your head. He slicks back his white hair with an intrigued look on his face.

“The library, when I cast you aside before those books fell on you?”

You try to interject, he doesn’t let you. Rather, he smiles nonchalantly, a hint of jubilance in his tone.

“On our walk in the forest, when I slayed those wild animals who attempted to bite you?”

“That night Vergil, when we first met”.

He has stopped his glass mid air, lets it fall back on the table slowly, his attention still steady on you. You stop just the same, refusing to set a finger on your cutlery as you desperately await his answer.

“How could I forget?” he seems confused, and almost irritated. He stands from his chair, stalks over to you, his elegance dignified beside the luminescence of the candlelight.

“I had promised you my soul. My everything. You have given me much more than I had ever expected”

“Only what you deserve” he whispers, fingers tracing over your shoulders. Tracing “mine” over and over again.

“But why?” you choke, biting away at your swollen lips as you fluster at his lips pressing chaste pecks along your nape.

“Why?” he repeats your question, breath ghosting against your skin, yet another kiss is placed, and you gasp as he bites down.

“Because for you, I shall destroy myself”.

#vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #dmc x reader #devil may cry x reader #vergil x you #vergil sparda x you #yandere vergil #gender neutral fanfic

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