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animelovelover123 · 2 months ago

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I SWEAR you have done this idea before, but I can't find it, so I'm assuming I dreamed it up or read it on someone else's blog 😭. But what would the DMC boys reactions be to reader squirting for the first time? I can imagine some would be cocky about it/extremely turned on by it, etc. It would be exciting to see your POV on them. Thank you for your amazing work! 🥰

Nope, never done this idea but I like it! Here you go, hope you enjoy making a mess with our demon hunting boys ;)

You Squirting On The DMC Boys

Dante

Dante is a messy lover. He likes clothes ripped off and thrown around the room; lipstick marks on his neck, abs, chest, hell even smudged over his lips; hair tousled crazily; making out so rough and sloppy that your lips are left glistening and connected by a string of saliva; and he prefers cumming ON you rather than in you.

The first time he makes you orgasm he is going down on you, because, of course, he wants to start this stage of your relationship by servicing you.

You get him in the face, much of the liquid going right into his mouth. There is a pause of shock then he suddenly sits up, now 2 kinds of your liquids dripping down from his grinning lips.

“Holly hell baby, do that again.” He flattens his hand and starts aggressively rubbing your clit, trying to force you into a back-to-back orgasm. He’ll even shove a couple fingers in you if he thinks it will help. “Come on, you can do it, baby girl, give me another, please, I need it.”

He already loved you, but finding out you squirt, he is going to get obsessed.

He loves it. The wet patches you leave on the bedsheets, his clothes, or whatever surface you two are fucking on is hot as hell and often has him getting excited for a round 2.

And even when you two are finished, he likes cuddling up against you and dragging his finger through the mess you made, drawing shapes and letters on you. Sometimes it was just to relax, other times it was to try to get you in the mood for yet another round, and occasionally…

“I…” Dante said as he drew the letter I on your tummy with the remnants of your squirt. “heart… U.”

Dante is a mess and we love him despite (or maybe for) it. I did not initially plan for it to get corny at the end there but I think that is also another reason many of us love him.

Reboot Dante

This man has had so much casual sex with so many people that he is unfazed when you squirt on him, he doesn’t act surprised at all.

He will tease you, call you “dirty” or maybe “slut” affectionately.

“I got you squirting already? Just wait till I have you screaming.”

He has no plan to stop, capturing your lips before you can respond properly, biting them a bit, and keeps pounding into you.

If he sees that you are legitimately embarrassed by it though, he’ll reassure you.

“Don’t worry babe,” Dante says as he wipes his hands off on the sheets below you. “I’ve had a lot worse things come out of people.”

His chill reaction continues all future times you have sex, though he does tease you both inside and outside of the bedroom. The amount of drooling and waterfall jokes you have to cover up and reprimand him for is insurmountable.

“Oof, you really gotta elbow me, babe?” He chuckles. “I guess I deserve it though. As payback, you wanna waterboard me with that cute little pussy of yours later?”

Perverted Reboot Dante has probably been squirted on many times, this man knows his way around watersports. But that also means I don’t have much to write about.

Vergil

When you squirt for the first time around him, Vergil devil triggers. He turns back quickly out of concern that the change in his body would frighten you or cause you pain for your first time together, but the strain of trying to keep his demon side from coming out is so heavy that he can’t finish.

That liquid was seeped in your scent, your pheromones. And you just sprayed it all over him and the bed like perfume.

He has to make an excuse, clean up quickly, and rush out of the room lest he ravages you.

When you are more accustomed to sex with him and he has more self-control he will let loose all of his animalistic lust but not yet, he did not want to hurt you or scare you away.

He will not explain this unless you press him and/or seem really hurt that he ran off after your first time together.

He does much training, both with and without you, and does get himself under control, though he and his sexual preferences are forever changed.

Now he’ll catch your squirt with some piece of his discarded clothing, claiming it is just to stop you from making too big of a mess. And besides, he cleans his clothes after every time you two have sex.

That is all true, but what he doesn’t say is that even after cleaning his clothes, when he wears them his demon senses can still pick up on the scent, on YOUR scent.

I was this fricken’ close to making him a pantie sniffer, I swear to god!

Reboot Vergil

Even though he likes to portray a prime, proper, clean, in-control aura always, making a mess of you turned him on like nothing else.

Before he found out that you squirted, he would get his fix by suddenly pulling you somewhere private, pushing you up against a wall, and aggressively start kissing and groping you. And just as you are beginning to process what was happening and get into the mood, he would suddenly pull away and remind you that you have things to do. He would then just watch you reeling, and if he was feeling extra cruel, he would drag you back out into the public space he had stolen you from and watch as you try to come to your senses and act natural.

Now he had something better though. Now he would wait until you were done getting all dolled up and ready for going out or to a house party then strike.

While assuring you that you had plenty of time, Vergil would shove his gloved hand down your panties and start playing with you, cranking up the intensity quickly to get you to that powerful release as soon as possible.

He did not need to be touched as he got plenty of satisfaction from seeing you standing there with shaky legs like a fawn trying to keep your balance with liquid dripping from your core and sliding down your legs. He’ll even avoid helping to support your weight to watch you struggle. He will help eventually though so he can have you wrap your arm around his and he can use that as a shackle.

“Alright dear, it is time for us to welcome our guests/head out. What’s that? Oh, unfortunately, we simply do not have any time to waste. I’m sure no one will notice, now let go.”

Reboot Vergil is a smart, tricky lover and a big ol’ bully.

Nero

Despite trying to act cool, confident, and mature, Nero is a virgin. And with where he grew up and the religiousness of his adoptive family, he was not given a sex education past “don’t do it before marriage” and what little he could learn for himself, which was practically nothing. So the first time you squirt on him he freezes mid-thrust in shock and confusion.

“Did you just piss on me?”

When you tell him what it is or he researches it, he feels stupid but at least knows how to approach things from now on.

He takes the time to lay out towels and clean you up after. That is unless you two get too hot and heavy outside of your home and end up fucking in the van or something. Even then though, Nero makes sure to clean up for your comfort and everyone else’s.

Usually he sees it as just a natural process of making love to you, though he does amusingly point out when you “make a good shot” and “launched it far”.

With his relationship with Kyrie, I see Nero as being quite the gentleman to his lover and her natural body functions, though dense at first. He is a good boy though.

V finds sex artistic in a way, and when he is in the midst of pleasure he finds it even more so.

When you first squirt on his hand, as he prefers to finger you before taking you completely, he is pleasantly surprised.

He wants to spread it around, utterly cover your crotch, inner thighs, and lower stomach with it. It makes you shine, glisten, just like when he kisses you enough to leave your lips a bit swollen and shimmering with saliva.

After fingering you and you are recovering, preparing for the true event, V grinds his body against yours in a kind of Nuru massage. Sliding his cock, now covered in your juices, along your drenched folds or, if your core is too sensitive right now, against your legs and stomach or between your closed thighs had him trembling and moaning just as hard as if your hand was wrapped around his member

And once he has pulled out of you and his seed is dripping out of you, the white mixes with the clear, creating a pearlescent liquid that V wants to paint with.

Not exactly what I intended but the vibe is there.

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thesharktanksdriver · 20 days ago

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Devils may love?: leaving home, loving life and loosing you

This is part 1 going over dmc3, I’m gonna maybe write parts for the other games if people are interested. Also maybe will eventually write some stuff for the pov of other characters in love with the blind dumbass that is reader.

Links: masterlist, part 2, part 3

You never thought that in your life you’d end up working at a place called “devil may cry”

When you initially found a job listing for the job it wasn’t even named that yet, and you never knew how much it would end up affecting your life

You used to fear not being able to pay rent on a daily basis

Feared getting mugged on your way home from a late shift or if your coupons expired before you bought groceries

But now you feared having demons knocking down your door and breathing down your neck on a daily basis

Let alone the fact that you had to deal with that alongside whatever other world ending event you somehow got caught up in

And dealing with taxes

And ensuring that Dante payed for the power and hydro in time

And….

Well there were a lot of and’s with the job that would go on to change your life

Whether that change was fully good or fully bad was up to debate

God knows how long you’ve weighed both sides in your mind

But it for sure made your life a hell of a lot more lively

Quite literally in the hell metaphor

And it all started when you found an add in the paper right after leaving a previous job and needing cash quick

You had a shitty apartment but rent was due in a short amount of time

Couldn’t rely on your parents either, not when they put you in this situation in the first place and you’d took the opportunity to get as far away from their shit as possible

Which meant you had fairly limited options

Especially with the fact you’d also had to drop out at the finish line of high school to make ends meet

That had ended up biting you in the ass more than anything

But the paper in your hands said little qualifications were needed

So it was your last chance

You never knew what it entail when you entered through the double doors of the newly bought building

The street lights above you illuminating your hope filled face holding your short resume

Admittedly sitting down for the job interview with Dante was a rather…daunting task

Less because he was intimidating

And moreso for the fact that the man (you say that hesitantly because he was literally the same age as you) who introduced himself as Dante sat with his feet kicked up on his desk and barely even glanced at your resume

The paper simply ended up in his hands for his eyes to skim before letting it be placed atop a stack of papers that looked like overdue bills nearby

Nor had he asked any work related question like “how do you work well in a team environment” or “do you have any prior experience to jobs like this”

Instead your potential future employer snacked on a slice of pizza and asked you questions like “know any places that deliver mid-apocalypse?” And “want a slice? Can’t guarantee you’ll get more than a piece or two with how fast I eat”

You can’t say you’d had any job interviews end up like this

They mostly ended up with fake smiles and promises to contact you if you got the position and never hearing a peep from them again

But Dante seems all too lax to be considered serious at all

Well besides his serious addiction to take out evident by the few leftover stacked pizza boxes and cartons of Chinese swept off to the side

Whenever you bring up your resume he waves it off or switches topics

He definitely didn’t even read through your previous job experiences

He just read your name and your phone number

What’s worse is that this wouldn’t even be the worst boss you’d had

Just potentially the weirdest

And that’s saying something

But At least he’s not some old creep the age of your dad leering at you

He’s just a horned up teen boy

He’s 18, just like you and just as in need of needing to get by on his own as you are

Though you think for different circumstances

By how he keeps a small photo of a blond woman on his desk, the only thing comparably well kept on the scratched up mahogany slab implies something

Something your not privy to (yet) but something none the less

A thing that leaves him both careless and untethered all the same

Perhaps for both good and bad

Whilst your seemingly the opposite, you can’t help but think of your parents with a bitterness that crawls up and wraps round every memory good (not many I the first place) or bad

Along with the fact that you can’t and don’t want to go back to them and would rather try to scrape by on your own

Even if it meant dropping out before graduation to do so

Just so you could get a job to afford rent since minimum wage wouldn’t get you by

Well…it certainly has a lot of weight to it both

Maybe something he recognizes when despite your made up professional appearance there are some cracks in it

How you nervously play with your hands

The fact that your his age and asking for a job that’d be enough to afford groceries and a roof over your head

No matter how leaky or loud the neighbours were

So when the interview is over you begin to count your losses

Grabbing your bag and trying not to hang your head on the way out

He must’ve just been messing with you

Or at least that’s what you think until he stops you asking where you going

And you can only tilt your head in confusion saying that you were heading back to your apartment

“But your already on the job”

“Huh? But I thought you were pulling my leg”

“What do you mean? I hired you already”

“What?! When???”

“When I opened the door and found an absolute babe in front of me asking for a job”

You think your already starting to regret this choice

But cash is king and you need some of that dollar to get by this month

You’ll just resign when you get on your feet and find something better

(News flash that doesn’t happen. Oh poor young naive past you)

Working at this still yet to be named paranormal/mercenary agency is a relatively easy task

Answer the phone, organize Dante’s increasingly messy desk, file some paperwork and make sure the bills are payed on time

Maybe throw out some old takeout and fight off the colony of raccoons in the back who started making a palace from pizza boxes

Somehow that ends up being the most odd but simultaneously normal thing you’d experienced yet

The place itself is actually quite cosy when you get used to it

Warm lighting accented by a the soft hum of the jukebox playing some 80’s power ballad

It makes for a nice mood when your sweeping up or filling things out

A comfy leather chair and a simple but effective desk for you to work at if it wasn’t already occupied

The smell of gunsmoke and cologne wafting in the air…alongside leftover pizza remains that you try to mask with fabreeze

On that half the job is simple

Effective as you mainly just ensured the place didn’t burn down

Or have the power taken again

Something you’d expect from being a secretary and or cleaner

(You will not say your a maid, Dante kept insisting that maybe he’d get you a proper costume to go with it that you quickly shut down)

And mainly answer the phone when Dante wasn’t there to butt in and take the receiver from you

But on the other hand working at this still unnamed place also means you were working with Dante

And that was a mixed bag in of itself

For as much as he initially intimated you with his display of guns right behind his desk or the sword casually strapped to his back

Or the ungodly amount of times you dealt with him covered head to toe covered in gore and blood

Or the fact he was your boss and could fire you at any moment

Dante’s intimidation factor quickly faded away into mild annoyance from his Dante..ness

Look you aren’t paid enough to deal with this crap-

To others Dante was the demon hunter

A mercenary of well known regard

A hero who saved the day and stopped the forces of hell

A badass with a penchant for overly complicated and dramatic theatrics

And dear god was he known for how he did this all effortlessly while seemingly being the coolest man ever known

But to you he was your annoying boss

This was both affectionately and as an insult due to the amount of times he’d gone out of his way to dump the bills on your desk and high tailed it out of the store using a mission as an eccuse

Dante as your employer is weird plain and simple

He has moments where he toys with you slightly

Pushing your buttons but never pushing too far

Small jokes sent your way but nothing extreme

Knowing when you began to look genuinely upset and stopping before he accidentally crossed the line in the sand

He drapes himself over your shoulders while your trying to fill out his papers

Keyword his

Or he calls you by those god awful nicknames

He calls you a plethora of stuff: babe, baby, hot stuff, sugar

But most embarrassingly and most frequently

“honeypie~”

You’d swear with the amount of times he called you that you could permanently pay for the electricity bill and maybe even the water

A shit eating grin on his face as he drags out the pet name whenever he could in a sing-song manner

(Including in front of clientele and eventually the other members of dmc when they join…and it unfortunately sticks since everyone but Nero partakes in torturing you this way-)

You’ve chased him with his plethora of weapons many times trying to wipe that grin off his face

Yelling his name at the top of your lungs as he hopped over his desk and toppled the stack of still unsigned paperwork

The phone ringing conveniently has saved him too many times when you were just about to get revenge

The most effective threatening tool of them all was the well loved broom you’d swear you’d mastered at this point

But on the other hand Dante is equally kind as he is annoying

When not playfully teasing and joking Dante just talks to you

Sometimes it’s mundane things like asking for recommendations for new schlocky horror flicks to watch

Other times it’s complaining whatever demonic creature he was sent to exterminate

Something he had initially tried to hide from you before you very easily pointed out the literal demon heads he’d impaled on the walls weeks earlier

For all his bravado and being a bit of an ass he’s caring at his core

You see that through his actions that are both loud and clear and quiet and invisible

There are times he makes his care obvious

He watches intently and knows when your tired and pushing yourself to get things done even if your trying to hide it

The subtle lull of your head as exhaustion seeps into your bones

He gets up from whatever he was distracting himself with (typically a magazine of some sort)

Telling you to “take a break there babe. Don’t want you to keel over too soon” though the slight edge to it indicates his worry as he takes the paperwork off your desk and stashes it some place absurdly high

His go too method to get you to stop overworking

other times when you fall asleep at the front desk you wake up to find his coat draped over your shoulders and yourself relocated on a nearby couch

A small sticky note clinging to your face saying “don’t overwork yourself honepie, who else is gonna keep me in check. By the way there’s some leftover pizza for you in the fridge if I’m not back by when you wake up - your favorite devil hunter Dante :)”

How he offers to walk you home or let you stay the night if it was getting particularly late

Though whenever he makes that offer he ruins it with the wiggling of his eyebrows immediately after

And the cheeky grin that by that point your too tired to try and erase off his face

But even then, when he makes that offer you see in crystalline blue eyes the sincerity in them

A smidge of worry and maybe even a crumb of fear

His more subtle care comes in the form of how you find your area more safer than usual

Less muggings let alone demons slinking through the night

Apparently he made it known that these were his stomping grounds and with his reputation most demons knew to stay clear

Same for muggers as well with his name in the underworld

His other silent care comes in the form of finding your favourite snacks eventually stocked at in the small kitchen

It comes from a few stray questions here and there

Or noticing what you packed yourself for lunch/snacks

He never acknowledges it

But you do find he has a small smile when seeing you enjoy what he bought

Content without a thank you because seeing your smile was enough

how the jukebox now seems to contain songs you’d mentioned enjoying out of nowhere

Or songs you’d already liked in the machine playing more often

Because that’s the sort of person Dante was

The man who when you call in sick ends up at your place with wanton soup and medicine

Never asking for anything In return except for you to recover properly

Or The fact he always he always buys you a strawberry sundae alongside his own or makes sure to buy a split pizza incase you didn’t like his toppings

It’s perhaps because of this you keep telling yourself you’ll put off finding another job

That the job market was bad right now even if you’d seen another promising job

Just because seeing his stupid grin when he sees you enter was payment enough even without the cash

“Dante I swear to god! Get back here!”

“Sorry honepie! Got a job to do!!”

“You’re not leaving until you pay the god damn bills you asshole!!! If you can deal with demons then you can deal with me you bastard!!!” Raising the broom you whack his head, making the devil hunter groan and he returns to running for his life out the double doors “also pick a god damn name for this place already! A business needs a name!”

You end up seeing Dante in various particular intimate moments in his life (Even before all the craziness that would come later on down the line)

It first begins when you see the days he’s drained from wear and tear

From the jobs that went bad even if he made it back alive

his shoulders sag even when he tries to act like his cocky self

His grin more strained as blue eyes hold back tears from failure to save someone

You don’t ask

Never have the heart to

But you do find yourself pulling him close even with the height difference

The first time it happens he goes stiff

Still as a statue in such an uncharacteristic manner

Thinking he’s uncomfortable you tried to pull away, an apology at the tip of your tongue when shaky arms pulled you back

Clinging to you as knees buckle and he ends up in the crook of your neck

You don’t mention how his sobs are heartwrenching

Nor that they haunt you with how vulnerable it sounds

Instead you thread fingers through his snowy hair, weaving through the soft locks

You never ask what happened

Instead you say that you’d order pizza tonight, on the house

With a few sobs he tries to argue but you don’t relent

And somehow the stubborn man you called your boss relents

Perhaps for the first time you’d ever seen

It’s later on when these moments happen though few and far between that he opens up bit by bit

It takes about a year but Like small fractures in a dam it eventually breaks and lets out the waterworks

He tells you he had a dad, a stern but caring man who disappeared one day and probably died

He tells you that he had a brother, his twin who was his opposite in almost every way possible down to contrasting favourite colours

The most caring mom in the world who died as flames consumed their home

He could only stay hidden in the closet

Scared and alone

Powerless to it all

How for years he was alone with only a trail of regrets and people he cared for ending up in the crossfire

How he’s only part human (though to be honest you already kinda put that together after he walked off being impaled one day)

All because of him

That despite it all he only ended up failing time and time again

And most surprisingly that he was scared

Scared for you

Because everyone he cared for ended up dead

And that he’s sorry for being selfish and keeping you around despite the risk

That you have to hate him for how annoying he was

For the danger he brought even being in the same room as you

It’s admittedly a lot

But you hold him, letting him get it all out

Hands that had seen so much loss and blood clutching you like you were the last valuable thing in the world and simultaneously made of glass

It just solidifies your words when you tell him that honestly he was a giant pain in the ass

A admittedly terrible boss

A smartass and flirty bastard

But he was a good person

Someone who did his best despite the circumstances

Because no matter how much he was kicked down and spat on he took it with a cocky smile

Never letting the salt in the wound sting in front of others

And that most importantly you can’t guarantee that you won’t get hurt

But you’d stick with him

For some reason despite all the risks he lists off you wanna stay

Your not really sure as to why

But you stay and that’s what matters

The risk he practically begs you to consider

Yet you stay

So in the vulnerable moments you wait for him by the doors

Waiting and ready for him to collapse into your arms

Ignoring the blood and gore that you’d inevitably have to wash out your clothes yet again

But it’s a price to pay when the man you call your friend

Your technical boss who was more like your own employee than anything with how you heckled him to get work done

Your best friend and worst migraine holds you with such fragility

You never confirm with him but you think the last time someone hugged him like this was his mom

All those years ago as the blazing flames surrounded them

It’s perhaps why he clutches you so close

Hoping to not let go and have the past repeat itself

But unlike back then you remind Dante that he’s not powerless anymore

He’s not the scared boy locked in a closet surrounded by the flames

He’s a man with the power to protect those weaker than him

Because he knows what it’s like to be powerless

To pray for a hand to reach out and to now be that hand for others

Despite what he thought you remind him that the truly powerful protect what they love

(Unbeknownst to you, you are that love)

(The beating heart that makes his humanity all the more apparent and his demonic side all the more powerful with something to protect)

All the while you morn the fact that Dante and you are the same age

Both kids with no one seemingly but each other in this world and left to navigate with one another

Your both just kids

You’d heard too many of Dante’s stories about his childhood not to recognize the sight of his brother inside your apartment

White hair slicked back instead of messy locks framing his face

Their near identical features if not for the ominous threatening look in blue eyes that you knew Dante would never direct towards you even if you took the last slice or banned him from strawberry sundaes yet again

You’d think after all the stuff you’d been through due to Dante like the incident with the raccoons out back becoming infused with demon power

Or the amount of times you’d saved his sorry ass from going fully broke

That this would be the worst thing that could happen

An Incorrect assumption

Looking at his definitely evil twin brother you can’t help but sigh and put your hands up in defeat

He told you awhile back about his run In with his twin

Said twin trying to steal his half of the amulet that the half-demon always wore

Well “always wore” besides the times he’d go to take a shower and ask you to hold onto it for him for a bit

Then returning it once he was done, a certain shine of gratitude in his eyes when he sees you polished it for him

Anyways back to the evil twin thing, apparently Vergil gave back said amulet because “he said he could take it back anytime he wanted”

The death glare and that quote alone alerted you to what type of person you had in your apartment

And that’s not even accounting the fact that he’s also part demon and has a real ass katana with him

“So do you want me to write a note for him before you kidnap me? Or do you want me to call him instead?”

To be completely honest after the raccoon incident you can’t even be remotely surprised anymore

But this does either earn you amusement from said definitely evil brother or at least some brownie points for being compliant

“Your cooperating?”

“Listen sir…uh Vergil? I’m assuming your Vergil? Anyways Vergil I’m not paid enough to deal with this….and your brother said I’d be paid overtime if something like this happened. So if anything this a forced paid vacation”

To be honest that last part was mostly you trying to find some good in this admittedly shitty situation

You always had great copping skills or at least that’s what you told yourself

At least you’d hopefully get something out of this besides trauma

And potential scars physical and psychological

Or Maybe even death if your super unlucky and piss off the blue half demon

But that was an if

A big if due to the fact he hasn’t already cut you down implying he needed you for something

And hopefully that something would give Dante enough time to save you

God forbid he doesn’t or else you’d become a demon and claw your way out of hell to torture him with undone paperwork

And with that you end up as hostage/bait in a literal hell tower that spouted up from the ground

Vergil and some weird guy called Arkham holding you at the top of the tower like some princess

Guess in this case Dante would be your proverbial knight in shinning armour while Vergil was the dragon or something

The analogy wasn’t too far off with that weird ass jester occasionally popping up to piss you off when Vergil left the room

You couldn’t wait for the long nosed bastard to have some lead shoved inbetween his eyes for the fact he kept joking about your dead expression whilst being kidnapped

Unlike him you had some scraps of dignity you wanted to save

Plus what was even the point of kicking and screaming when you were up against a half demon and whatever else they had up their sleeves

Speaking of said other half demon though

Surprisingly you didn’t entirely mind Vergil

Was he an ass? Definitely

But at least you could have a conversation with him

Something that surprises even him when you spotted him pulling out a book of poetry

Specifically William Blake

Yeah, surprise surprise somehow that “useless” class in high school your parents hounded you about wasting your time on actually became relevant

You’d say you’d told them if it weren’t for the fact you never wanted to see either of them again

He reads quietly aloud not expecting you to finish the last part for him

“The sun descending in the west, the evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest, and I must seek for mine-”

“The moon, like a flower, in heavens high bower, with silent delight, sits and smiles on, the night”

For the first time you see something crack in his stoic demeanour

a spark of something when he then turns to you

Surprise? Maybe even a hint of some sort of longing

You don’t know what he went through after he was separated from Dante, but you can only guess it was just as hard as his twin up to this point

So maybe finding someone with the same love for flowery words of a dead guy was comforting in some weird way

At least as comforting it could get for someone who hated humanity

He walks over to where you sat on the cold ground with your wrists and ankles bound, asking if you knew more of Blake’s work and when you nod

At that there’s a moment of silence and then he asks for your interpretation of old words on faded yellow pages

This leads you to discuss with Dante’s brother without being called a “useless human” 5 seconds in

Honestly sitting atop the weird demon tower debating with him wasn’t what you pictured

But it is a sure if a lot better than what you originally imagined

Mostly because it’s actually pretty fun

Vergil unlike Dante seems to like debating and discussing

Something that was hard to do with Dante because he either brushed it off or was more prone to changing the subject

You don’t blame him for it, stuff like this wasn’t his forte

But it was nice having someone to talk to about it

The two of you start off at first with Blake

Interpretations of his poems meanings

Particular passages either of you enjoyed

That evolves into discussion of other poets

Poe, Dickinson, Shakespeare, Wilde, frost and Shelley

But it later devolves into world views

Specifically his opinion on humanity

Because despite the fact that Vergil is part human and his fully demon father married a mortal woman and seemingly abandoned that part of himself

Vergil ended up despising his humanity

Thinking of it as inferior to his demonic half

Well, maybe hate was a strong word but he definitely looked down on humans

Yourself included but maybe a bit less considering he was talking with you instead of scowling silently as he did before

He was the opposite of Dante in every way

While Dante embraced his humanity Vergil shunned his own

But Vergil accepted his demonic half whilst Dante still remained hesitant of it

One brother was loud, the other silent

One Red and one blue

One Warm and one cold

Complete and total opposites in every manner of the word

While you don’t agree with Vergils views you do try to understand them

You make the effort of understanding him because you think he deserves as much

Not only because he was important to Dante but because like Dante he also was your age

He was a kid like you are even if he tried to act mature

He thinks his mom abandoned him that day in favour of Dante

Telling him she didn’t wouldn’t change his mind especially from you of all people

A human who’d never met her or was there for that event

Especially if Dante had tried and still couldn’t get through to him

So instead you reason with him in other such ways

Sparda had sealed off the demon from the human world for a reason

Didn’t that indicate something to him?

Plus he was already powerful enough by every other standard possible

He could outmatch any human that came his way

He raised a god damn hell tower to prove it

He was already top of the proverbial food chain with enough power

Dipping his toes into this though could shift those tides

Admittedly you knew jack shit about hell and it’s hierarchy besides the small tidbits Dante explained

And even then those snippets of information were from the small stories his dad told when he was younger so it was dubious at best

You’re not sure if Mr. Sparda had sanitized stories for his sons or if he told them the truth and didn’t cushion the blow

But it safe to say even the most powerful of humans couldn’t compare to the upper crust of hell

Plus the added bonus of It being closed off for who knows how long giving an even bigger question mark as to what’s down there

Because if hell is anything like humanity things change and demons get stronger

For all he knows he could be inviting that Mundus guy his father went against to his doorstep

And seeing how Sparda apparently had a difficult time defeating him at full power the odds weren’t in anyone’s favour

That last part seems to shake him a bit more than you’d initially thought

You see the stone cold demeanour crack slightly

“Are you calling me weak?”

“I’m not, Far from it. But all I’m saying is that opening that portal is opening pandora’s box.” For a moment you pause watching his stewing expression “there’s no undoing it if you do and no telling what your unleashing on not only everyone else but yourself. Your not guaranteed anything from this, let alone the power you seek ”

Distantly if you listen hard enough you swear you hear gunshots ring out on the lower floors of the tower

The familiar rhythm and melody of ebony and ivory’s gunshots

You’d heard them too many times to be able to memorize the sound

But along with that your alerted to the fact that someone else besides Dante is in the tower

Something Vergil seems less than amused with

Not to mention the fact he looks like he’s perpetually 5 seconds away from stabbing that Arkham guy nearly any time the man opens his mouth

Something you can’t exactly complain about since you’d also found him plain weird

And that’s saying something

The only thing out that bald freak’s mouth that you agreed with was that a storm was approaching

Both physical and metaphorical as you sit when the rain begins to fall

Sitting atop this ancient tower of stone you can’t help but find some irony in it all

Sparda had sealed away this unholy tower to stop the passage from one world to the next

But ultimately it’s one of Sparda’s sons who tries to resurrect it and undo his fathers work while the other wants to topple it for humanity’s sake as his father did

It was like a twisted form of jenga with this Tower of Babel

With you unfortunately at the top of the tower waiting for it to topple

The moon hangs high in the sky, Illuminating the droplets that shine

The pale silver light reminding you of both of the twins hair

Dante’s is left down to frame his face, free and messy just like he is

Whilst Vergils is pushed back and sleek, professionalism and an air of confidence in it

Never had you been as relived in your life until that point when you see Dante’s knotted messy mop of hair

Slightly stained with blood and viscera that soon began to wash away under the rain

You can’t help but yell his name in sheer excitement, his eyes light up

Lurching forwards your stopped not only by the fact that your currently tied up with uncomfortable ass rope but also the fact that Vergil unsheathe his sword in front of you

A indignant huff escaping him

(From your yell or his brother your not sure…probably both considering him)

You see your reflection in the blade alongside the hollow presence of the moon

Her silent presence a small comfort in this entire situation despite her impartialness in helping

(You do not see the blue wearing brother glance down at you for the briefest of moments)

You can’t do anything but watch as the two fight

Blow after blow

Slash after slash

Round after round fired from ebony and ivory

All the while you stay huddled to the ground trying to desperately stay out the way

Your works cut out for you though on account the two seem to pivot away if they get too close

No matter if either was about to win Dante would pull back if either him or Vergil got too close to you for comfort

And you think even Vergil seemed to do the same for some reason

Maybe he wanted to kill you later or something

But the turning point comes and red stains the cold ground

Yamato impaling itself through Dante’s chest while you can only watch

You can’t help but scream his name again as he falls and the necklace is torn from his neck

The heirloom he seemed to only trust you with being stolen

Vergil smoothed his hair back under the rain in a comedically villain manner that takes you out of it for a moment

This is your life now

Captive atop a tower while two half demon brothers duked it out

Dante twitches, ready to get up but Vergil takes Dante’s own sword and stabs him with it

Vergil and Arkham talk for a moment but your too distracted to pay their words any attention

Not when your focused on Dante

and then a beam of light shoots out Dante’s sword and the sword changes?

And then Dante’s back up again

This all happens in the span of a couple minutes the while your gaping at the scene

Because a) you knew Dante had some type of magic deus ex machina bullshit but you didn’t know he could get stabbed multiple times and survive. Mind you, you’d seen him stabbed once or twice before and walk it off but several times in a row was something you didn’t expect him t just walk off either

plus b) all this time he could get impaled several times over and yet his ass would run like you were coming at him with a chainsaw when you were trying to whack him on the head with a broom a few days back

You don’t get much time to focus on that anymore

Not when Vergil picks you up and walks to the edge of the tower

All the while Dante stumbles to his feet

A bloodied cough erupting from his chest as he tried to stumble forwards with his arm outstretched to you

“Oh please god no, can’t you just take the stairs-“ before you get to finish your plea Vergil takes a leap off the tower with you firmly on his shoulder grasping him for dear life “DANTE!!”

Never had you thought that your life would end up like this

And it all came from a singular job ad

#devil may cry #dmc #dmc3 #dmc virgil #dmc dante #dante sparda #vergil sparda #Dante #Vergil #dmc x reader #dmc x you #devil may cry x reader #dante x reader #vergil x reader #devil may cry x you #this took way to long #devils may love?

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bergilandbante · 1 year ago

Text

(clip from a dmc panel around 2011)

dan giving us a demonstration of vergil's flirting skills (sound on)

#he's an icon for this #also i love dante in the back “DID VERGIL SAY THAT??! DID VERGIL SAY THAT?”#devil may cry #dmc #vergil dmc #devil may cry 5 #vergil sparda #dmc5 #dmc4 #fuck it #vergil x reader

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luv-lock · 1 month ago

Text

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤWINTER FLOWERㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Vergil Sparda x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would He Be When He's Obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It doesn’t begin with love.

You are human—fragile, fleeting, insignificant in the grand tapestry of time Vergil exists in. A being of flesh and warmth. And yet, somehow, you are still standing. Amid the chaos of a demonic incursion, surrounded by blood and bone, you don’t scream. You don’t run. You fight, with trembling hands and stubborn eyes.

That’s when he sees you.

Not for what you are.

But for what you could be.

Vergil watches from the shadows. At first, you’re nothing more than a fleeting distraction in his pursuit of power. But there’s something… different about you. Something that hooks into the raw, feral part of him—the part he’s buried beneath layers of Yamato steel and centuries of silence.

You remind him of his mother, in a way he resents.

You remind him of his humanity, in a way he hates.

And still, he watches.

The obsession grows in silence.

He never announces his interest. That would imply weakness. But you feel him. The air gets colder when he’s near. You dream of blue light. Sometimes, in battle, you swear you see a flash of his coat on the rooftop before the enemy falls to your feet, headless.

You think you’re going insane. You don’t know that he’s following you.

He learns everything—where you sleep, what you eat, the way your voice cracks when you cry alone, thinking no one can hear. He knows the names of every friend you’ve lost. He keeps a list of the men who flirt with you. He splitting them in half with Yamato.

He justifies it.

“You are mine. You just don’t know it yet.”

He begins to test you.

You start encountering stronger demons. Ones that know your name. Ones that bleed blue when you kill them. You think you’re being hunted—when in truth, you’re being tested. Vergil wants to see how far you’ll go. How strong you’ll become. Will you break, or will you grow?

Every time you survive, he grows more enthralled. You are not weak. You are almost worthy. Almost.

But not quite.

Not yet.

And then, you confront him.

Not because you figured it out. No. You walked into one of his traps like a lamb to slaughter, and instead of running… you drew your blade. Eyes fierce. Rage in your blood. You scream his name and challenge him. You accuse him of tormenting you.

And Vergil smiles.

The first smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

“You’ve grown.”

He doesn't deny it. He steps into the moonlight, and when you meet his gaze, you finally understand.

You try to leave.

Of course you do. Any sane woman would. But Vergil doesn’t allow loose threads. He appears again, this time in your dreams. Your shadow. Your heartbeat. His presence becomes inescapable.

You find notes written in ink on your weapons—warnings, riddles. You start seeing him in reflections. You wake with the scent of rain and blood on your sheets, but no sign of him. You speak his name and the wind answers.

And still, he doesn’t touch you.

He waits.

Until you break.

The world turns on you. A betrayal. A massacre. Your home burns. Your soul fractures. Everyone you loved is gone.

He appears in the ashes.

Not as a savior.

But as the one who made it happen.

“I warned you,” he says, tone calm. “You belong to me.”

You try to kill him.

He lets you.

You scream.

He listens.

You fall.

He catches you.

You're his now.

You used to dream of freedom.

Now, you dream of blue. Of rain falling like blades. Of a voice whispering your name, not with affection, but with possession. His voice. Cold, refined, unwavering.

Vergil doesn’t hurt you.

Not with fists.

Never with cruelty.

He hurts you the way winter hurts the last flower—by loving it too much.

He keeps you in a place that doesn't exist on any map. A temple made of broken stone and whispers, suspended in some limbo between worlds. Time doesn't pass here. You don’t know how long it’s been since the fire, the screams, the moment you fell into his arms.

He isolates you. But never out of cruelty. He believes no one is worthy of standing beside you—except him.

But you remember the way he looked at you.

Like you were the final piece of something he’d been building for centuries.

And that piece didn’t fit.

You try to speak of the people you lost.

He tells you they were weak. That you don’t need them. That he is all you need.

You try to cry.

He watches in silence, blue eyes unreadable, as if he’s studying the fracture lines in his favorite blade.

You start to forget your name.

He never calls you by it. Just “you.” “My flame.” “My echo.”

Sometimes, when he’s angry, “foolish girl.”

Sometimes, when he’s afraid to lose you, “mine.” Softly. Whispered like a prayer he never learned how to say.

He trains you, sharpens you, polishes you like a blade. If you fight him, he grows colder. If you kneel, he melts. If you cry, he holds you like a man holding the last piece of his soul.

You ask if he’d kill for you.

“I already have.”

You ask if he’d die for you.

“I won’t need to.”

You wonder if he ever really loved you.

You wonder if you ever really had a choice.

One night, you run.

You don’t know why. Maybe to feel the air in your lungs again. Maybe to remember what pain felt like on your own terms. You don’t get far.

He finds you in the forest, kneeling in the mud, your body shaking from the cold and the shame of it all. You expect rage. A lecture. Violence.

But he kneels too. And for the first time, Vergil looks human.

And then… he holds you.

So tightly, you can’t breathe.

So gently, you break.

Days become emptier.

He trains you harder. Talks less. Watches you more. You bleed in the name of becoming stronger, but you feel weaker. Smaller. You try to remember who you were before he claimed you. The way you laughed. The sound of your own voice. But those memories are fading, devoured by the storm that is him.

Sometimes, you catch him staring at you like you’re a ghost.

Like he knows you’re slipping.

Like he doesn’t know how to stop it.

You ask him, one night, if he would still love you if you became nothing.

“I would love you still,” he says. “Even if all that remained was ash.”

Because in the end…

Vergil doesn’t fall in love.

He consumes it.

And now you are part of him. A blade buried in the scabbard of his soul.

You were never meant to survive him.

But now, you will never escape him.

And deep down…

You don’t want to.

Because he's all you have.

— MASTERLIST ☆

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hades-in-bloom · 1 month ago

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A Necessity

Vergil Sparda x Reader

summary: an unbearably human gesture to show that he wished you well. Prequel

warnings & contents: fluff with tEnSiOn (no other way to write it); Vergil is vergiling; flower gifting (with Vergil, definitely a warning); could be age gap, could be none; the reader could be any gender; no mentions of y/n

a/n: am having way too much fun writing for this man. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: now that we’re alone — the people’s thieves

***

Whatever he was doing in that moment, it was not necessary. And anything unnecessary felt unnatural to him. After all, necessity had been at the core of his actions for far too long; it was ingrained into his very being for decades. Since he had become lost, since his childhood he pursued no desires—only needs. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have commanded the impressive power he wielded now. In his opinion, desires existed only to weaken human beings, and neither weakness nor humanity was something Vergil could afford to embrace—or truly wished to, given the circumstances. After all, greatness demanded sacrifice.

Then why, despite being unnecessary, did those visits to you—both promised and unspoken—start to feel so natural lately? He had far more important things to focus on than indulging his own curiosity while standing at your doorstep. He had always excelled at managing his priorities. So how could you, his poisonous desire, his deadly want, have become one? How did it come to be that you transformed into a need? A necessity.

In his world, necessities were meant to make him stronger—while you were meant to be his forbidden weakness. Now, in his world, you were a walking and talking contradiction. Uninvited. Yet, welcomed. Impossible. Yet, inherently natural.

“Vergil.”

You opened the door just moments after he knocked. Had you been waiting for him? Impossible. Yet, it might have felt natural for you. He was only beginning to realise that you might have foolishly waited for him like this many times before. At the thought of it, he felt nothing—at least, that’s what he wanted to believe in. Feeling anything else would’ve been unnatural. Dangerous. Forbidden.

In the meanwhile, you stared at him. You couldn't believe it, and both your facial expression and tone of your voice conveyed that clearly, unmistakably.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one.

“What is this?”

His gaze dropped to the object in his hand. Pale violet flowers, brought into a small bouquet, were cascading down his palm.

“Wisteria.”

“Why?”

He blinked at your question, his shoulders tightened. A wave of frustration washing over him. Why had he even bothered? He felt like an idiot, and he should’ve seen this coming. This was consequential, after all. He had taken the foolish advice of his equally foolish brother—and somehow acted on it. He should have known better.

You noticed his discomfort and shook your head gently. With his silent permission, you took the bouquet from his hands, admiring its simple beauty. He watched you with a hint of puzzlement in his furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong,” you acknowledged softly. Naturally, you needed no explanation for why he brought you flowers. It was an unexpected gesture on his part, but common enough—though among humans. “Why wisteria?”

The puzzlement on his face shifted to surprise, and he seemed genuinely pleased. He hadn’t expected you to be this thoughtful.

“It represents good luck,” he replied, his eyes locked on you. “As well as long life and prosperity. I thought these would never hurt.”

He also chose wisteria because the very thought of bringing you something as vulgar as roses—like Dante suggested—was threatening to give him a heart attack. But he also wanted you to know that he wished you well, despite his chaotic presence in your life.

You hummed in response. “I see,” a smile tugged at your lips. “Thank you.”

He nodded, awkwardly lingering at the doorstep.

“May I come in?”

“Sure.”

You stepped aside, allowing him to slip into the apartment. He set Yamato down, leaning the sword in its sheath against the wall as casually as someone might drop a set of keys onto a table upon arriving home. Then he knelt to unbuckle the straps, removing the protective leather piece from his shin, and only after did he take off his shoes.

When he stood up from his knees, you had already placed the wisteria in a delicate vase and set it on the bureau in the hallway.

And now, you stood directly in front of him.

“Why?” you asked again, your voice quieter this time.

This time he could sense what was on your mind. Why had he returned?

“Because I promised,” he replied calmly, thinking it was obvious. He’d been many things, both good and bad, but he wouldn’t break this promise.

“You didn’t have to,” you insisted. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. As he had thought before, this wasn’t necessary. “But I wanted to,” he added.

Your eyes widened, your limbs froze, and your heart stuttered.

“I needed to,” he concluded at last, his eyes never leaving yours. His wants and needs had now intertwined, leaving him with a growing headache and a fearful pit in his stomach. Yet there were no regrets; he had enough of those over the past couple of decades.

You said nothing at first, the weight of his confession sinking in. At your silence, he thought of the worst, as he often did, so he muttered. “But if you don’t want me, I’d understand.”

You thought about it, then stepped right into him, encroaching on his cherished personal space as your arms wrapped around his waist. Caught off guard, he faltered under your affectionate touch.

This wasn’t supposed to feel right. Instead, it felt necessary. After a moment of hesitation, his hand settled on your back, pulling you closer.

“You thought,” you scoffed gently, a hint of approval in your voice.

#vergil #vergil sparda #vergil dmc #dmc5 vergil #dmc3 vergil #dmc #devil may cry #vergil x you #vergil x reader #vergil sparda x you #vergil sparda x reader #vergil devil may cry #devil may cry x you #devil may cry x reader #vergil fluff #vergil angst #x reader #x you #yamato

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yzzart · 1 month ago

Note

Your DMC writing is just so *chefs kiss* it scratches my brain just right! I absolutely love Vergil so if it's okay, I'd like to request a sweet little thing about what it's like to give this man little surprise smooches like on his cheek or his shoulder in passing!

── ｡𖦹°‧ IT'S JUST KISSES, VERGIL.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: mention of Vergil calling you "wife" light and lovely content.

⭑.ᐟ Every kiss you leave on Vergil, especially those that take him by surprise, are sparks, bringing him back to the present, returning his consciousness. — The intimidating composure, capable of threatening worlds, would not bear to try to resist your charms.

⤷ The half-demon, so vain, thirsty for competence and satisfaction of power, could feel vulnerable — without disapproving or complaining — in the face of the sign of affection.

⭑.ᐟ Kisses on his cheek, on his hands and, depending on your height, on his shoulders — relaxing the man's vigorous, rigid body — were given extreme importance and attention; a way of showing affection, your love, for Vergil. — Something that he respectfully contemplated with all passion.

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes, the purest demonstration of love also became one of concern; swearing, fearing a security and sustaining a message that informed him that you were there, by his side. — A long, honest and loving kiss, made by your lips, left on the back of Vergil's hand became enough for him.

⤷ “When you return, i will be here for you.” — You didn’t need to say those words, or at least justify and explain the reason for this affectionate action; Vergil knew precisely what his beloved was expressing.

⭑.ᐟ Specifically, the feeling of surprise, and somewhat unexpectedness, that ran through the chest of Sparda's eldest son upon receiving your sudden attention became recurrent during moments when he was reading books — which told stories about his father's existence or were just pure poetry — or while he was lost in severe, austere thoughts.

⤷ Or where you were the only thing that didn't leave his thoughts. — Vergil could vacate, burn the concepts of selfishness, thirst for power, he could; but, removing the woman he loves from his head? It would be a wicked sin coming from a son of a demon.

“I see some smoke coming out of your head,…” — Your voice was pleasing, it caressed the ears of the demonic man, who had been surprised by your presence; your steps were cautious, silent in the right measure. — “…my love.” — You headed towards the leather armchair where Vergil was sitting.

Before he can utter a word, or a loving greeting, Vergil is greeted with a kiss on his shoulder; it is slow, patient, and so delicate. — That was enough to drive a spark through his chest, bringing him back to the present, the current moment. — Bringing him back to you.

Sitting, a little awkwardly, on the arm of the chair, your hand rested on Vergil's forearm, until his hand moved, slowly, to cover your; holding tightly, at the same time with a delicacy that he learned from you. — Your lips curved into a venerable smile against Vergil's skin as you felt the tension in his muscles begin to lessen.

“What could be occupying your mind?” — Your question sounded like a curious sigh, fearing the convictions that ran through your beloved’s head; you knew Vergil like no one else.

“It’s you,…” — The words came out of the man’s mouth like a guarded and beautiful confession, focused on a faithful feeling. — “…my wife.”

#vergil #vergil sparda #vergil dmc #devil may cry #devil may cry netflix #dmc #vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil x you

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yominero · 9 days ago

Text

DEVIL MAY CRY — FINISHING TOUCHES EDITION

PRESS START TO LOSE CONTROL

dmc men x fem!reader (separate)

your body is a blank canvas, and he is the artist. every stroke, every gasp, every drop left behind is a signature.

NOW LOADING... where he finishes, how he claims you, why you’ll never forget it. BREEDING LEVEL: LEGENDARY.

NERO MESSIER THAN HE MEANT TO BE SPARDA REVVED TOO HARD INSIDE, ON YOUR STOMACH

You’re on your stomach, ass up, face buried in the sheets, and Nero’s trying so hard to be quiet. He’s panting against your spine, trying not to lose it as your body rocks with every sloppy, desperate thrust. His metal arm clutches your waist, keeping you right where he wants you… No, where he needs you.

“F-fuck—you feel so good,” he grits, voice cracking, cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “I swear to god, baby, you’re gonna kill me like this…”

You moan his name—soft, ruined. He chokes. Actually chokes on air, and then you say it. You say the words that ruin him. “Inside. Nero… please. I want it.”

Everything stops, because shut up he is trying so hard not to cum.

He pulls back just enough to stare down at you, wide-eyed, pupils blown. His mouth parts like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. His next thrust hits deep, harder than before, as if your plea just flipped a switch in him because it did.

“Shit—fuck, baby—are you sure?” he gasps, voice wrecked. “You say shit like that and I’m gonna fucking devil trigger, I swear to god…”

You nod, reaching back to grab at him, begging with your body now too. He groans. Loud. Desperate. He can’t hold back, and with one more thrust, he’s gone.

Nero cums with a growl, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses inside you. His body curls over yours, trembling with the force of it, one hand fisting in your hair, the other braced against your lower back as he fills you full—hot, thick, way too much.

“Ah, goddamn it,” he whines into your neck, lips brushing your ear. “You’re so good—so fucking perfect…shit, I didn’t mean to, but I wanted to…”

He stays there, cock twitching with your cunt fluttering around him, milking every drop. When he finally pulls out, he watches it leak from you and his eyes go wide, reverent, wrecked. He exhales a curse, dragging a hand down his face.

“…I’m gonna be broke from buying Plan B.”

You hum, still hazy, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Then stop doing it.” He glares. Blushes. Cums again in his fucking mind.

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, reaching for a towel, then staring at the mess on your thighs instead.

...But he doesn’t clean it up. Because just then you slowly roll onto your back aching, dripping, and stretch like a goddamn goddess. Your stomach’s already smeared with him, slick between your thighs, glowing in the low light. And Nero loses it again.

“Oh—oh fuck,” he gasps, jerking forward like a man possessed. His cock, still hard, twitches at the sight. “I—I can’t—”

He fists himself, frantic, not even trying to hold back. He finishes all over your stomach and tits with a hoarse cry, hips stuttering, ropes of cum painting you again like it’s instinct, unholy thought filling his head.

“I’ll do it again,” he pants. “As many times as you let me.”

DANTE UNHINGED IN THE HOTTEST WAY SPARDA HITTING THE JACKPOT INSIDE, ON YOUR TITS OR ASS

Dante’s not just fucking you—he’s painting you. A masterpiece of moans, soreness, and his cum exactly where he wants it. His favorite spot? Depends on how feral he's feeling.

When he finishes inside, it’s deep and messy, punctuated by rough groans and his hips twitching as he empties himself into you. But Dante’s an exhibitionist with no one to impress but you. So sometimes, just to prove a point, he pulls out last second and strokes himself, watching your tits bounce or your ass jiggle beneath him and whistles at the sight of you looking like a fertility goddess. A second later he covers your body with thick ropes of cum while grinning like the devil himself.

"Gonna need a round two just to clean it up.”

He wants you to feel it drip, see it pool on your belly, or drip down your thighs. To him, you’re not just his partner, you are art itself, and he makes the finishing touches.

On the occasions when he finishes inside you (which is every time), he’s nested deep. Not just emotional damage deep, you swear you can feel his dick reaching your throat: thick, throbbing, filling every inch to perfection. His hips grind slowly, then a little faster, and your legs are shaking from how long he’s kept you right on the edge. You already had your orgasms. What is taking him so long?

“Shit… you feel too good, baby,” he mutters, burring his head in the crock of your neck, his breath hot and ragged as he leaves a soft kiss there. “So tight, like you were made for me, yeah?”

Then he sinks in fully with one final thrust, and you feel the twitch. The hot warmth of him spilling inside, not pulling—even worse, he is not even trying to, because he loves this level of closeness and intimacy. Body to body, soul to soul.

Your body clamps down involuntarily, and you whimper at the sheer fullness and the way it stretches you, the way you swear you feel it in your belly. He chuckles, sinfully and proudly reaches down, pressing a hand flat to your lower abdomen.

“Well, look at that,” he pants, eyes glazed with lust and something a little unhinged. “All mine, sweetheart. You are so beautiful when you are full of me.”

You shiver beneath him, dazed, needy, a little too into it. Your breath catches at the pressure blooming inside, the slick, hot mess. He pulls out slow, and when your hips jerk, his cum leaks out in thick white drips.

“Now you really look divine,” he murmurs, thumbing it back in like he can’t help himself. “Shit, I’ll grab Plan B in the morning, I swear. Just...let me enjoy this one, alright?”

You nod, voice lost somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. Right now, you don't have the mental capacity to respond or to think about anything other than him.

And the worst part is that you secretly love it. Love the way he fucks you like he’s claiming you for the very first time. Love the way he shows just how much he loves you. Love the way you already want more.

VERGIL TAKE EVERYTHING I OFFER SPARDA THE APROACHING STORM INSIDE, ON YOUR THIGHS

He always finishes inside. Always. You won't catch this man slacking or not doing anything the way it's supposed to.

There’s something empowering about the way he holds you when he’s close—one hand gripping your thigh to keep you from moving so much, the other hand cradling your throat, not tight, just enough for you to feel how fragile you are under him. His face is buried in your neck, breath cold despite the furious way his hips grind into yours.

“You will take it,” he murmurs, voice low, trembling with control, with hunger. “Do you understand?” You nod, too far gone to speak, thighs trembling from the pressure building with every thrust. You can feel it—his restraint snapping thread by thread, unraveling.

And then it hits, like a silent storm that no one knew would come. As an unexpected surprise that was more than pleasant.

He sinks in with a final, bruising thrust and stills. You feel the hot, pulsing rush of his release flood you, thick and deliberate, marking you. He groans low in his throat—a rare, vulnerable sound—as his jaw clenches against your shoulder. You clutch at his back, panting, moaning, full in the deepest, most primal sense.

He doesn’t pull out, never does.

He stays inside you, hips pressed flush, as if trying to carve the shape of himself into your womb. You shift under him, overstimulated, but his hand presses your hip still.

“You feel that?” he breathes against your ear. “Mine.”

When Vergil finishes inside you, it’s not just sex, it’s a silent promise to keep the connection between two souls sacred. He doesn’t moan or curse, just breathes out your name like a command, like a claim, because he has control over you, but you are also his weakness.

Each time, his eyes go half-lidded, that stoic expression crossing his face, like he’s giving you something sacred that will break any minute, something he shouldn’t even think about. He’s breaking a rule he made for himself, and when his cum leaks out of you, hot and heavy, he only watches it, lips twitching faintly. “Waste nothing.”

But on the rare occasions he doesn’t finish inside you, when he has to pull out, because you’re sore or overstimulated or too full already; he’ll wrap a hand around himself at the last second and cum over your thighs, groaning through gritted teeth. Something about the way it drips down your skin drives him feral. His breath hitches, drunken on the sight of the mess both of you created.

There’s awe in him when he sees you like that—ruined, shivering, legs sticky with him. “Look at you,” he mutters, voice caught between worship and mockery, typical Vergil. “Greedy little thing. Always asking for more... and yet you can barely take it.”

The words aren’t cruel, not really. They come wrapped in quiet praise, veiled affection, something soft only you ever get from him. He leans down, mouth brushing your temple. And then stares at you like he always does, in a whisper so raw it almost doesn’t sound like him:

“I love it.” A pause. “I love you.”

Yeah, you have this man wrapped around your finger … or inside you.

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