mannequinreligi0n

[mannequinreligi0n]

me when

[mannequinreligi0n]

Can I request Dante and the reader having a shooting contest on their off day from hunting demons? (Platonic or romantic, your choice)

Headshot

pairing: dante x reader (gn)

wc: 1300

warnings: drug and alcohol use

author’s note: i’ve literally been meaning to answer this for so long, but could not, for the life of me, figure out a plot. and then this morning, the story randomly manifested in my mind’s eye. i kept it mostly platonic, with just a dash of flirting/angst. ugh, i love writing for dante - especially his dialogue. it’s always so fun. anywayyssss, i hope you like this !!!! let’s go old man lover nation !!!!!!

Smoke hazes the room, swirls of gray muddying your view of Dante as he cocks the chamber of Ebony. He stares down the end of the barrel, trying to pinpoint the head of the swinging cutout you two tied to the shitty ceiling fan. He looks over his shoulder to you on the couch, Ivory sat in your lap and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s warmed in your hand. You quirk an eyebrow up at him, as if to ask ‘well?’.

“Just makin’ sure you’re watchin’, angel,” he chortles, blunt bobbing between his lips as he smiles back at you.

The end of the blunt sparkles as he drags from it, inhaling deeply and refocusing back to the rotating target. With an exhale through his nose, he pulls the trigger, watching the gunpowder mix with the fragrant smoke of the herb. The bullet hits its mark, jolting the cutout to sway off kilter, but as it falls back into its previous rhythm, Dante can see that it’s off by a millimeter. The bullet hole permeates the head of the sacrificed celebrity, but it’s just off to the left - enough to dissatisfy Dante.

“Damn it, I’m gettin’ sloppy,” Dante sighs with a shake of silver hair, pulling the blunt from his mouth and flopping down beside you. You two trade off the substances and he takes a hearty swig from the bottle, leaning back with an arm over the couch.

“Mmm, not sloppy. Just careless,” you laugh lightly, pulling a drag and feeling the smoke coat the back of your throat. You tap the ash off the blunt and set it down in the ashtray on the table, exhaling and standing up with a stretch.

“Oh, you gonna show me how it’s done then, hotshot?” Dante sits back and ogles at your backside as you roll the stiffness out your shoulders, his drawl exaggerated in his inebriated state. He reaches forward and pinches the inch of your hip exposed from your ridden up shirt, making you jump and whip around.

“Watch it, dumbass,” you point Ivory at him with a heartless threat, giving him a scolding glare. Dante only chuckles in return, sitting up and pressing his forehead to the end of the gun he so graciously let you borrow for the game.

“Shootin’ the guy that saved your ass yesterday? Not very nice, sweetheart. And with my own baby, at that,” he teases, flashing you a dreamy, coy smile.

“Hands to yourself, and maybe I won’t have to use it against you,” you say smartly, staring down at him over your nose. Despite the remark, you reciprocated his smile with a fond one of your own, the liquor and drugs in your system making it hard to even pretend to be mad at him. You lower the gun and turn back around, zeroing in on the rotating cutout. Raising Ivory, you squint and take a few centering breaths, aiming for the head. A ‘bang’ echos in the office as you shoot, the bullet going through the chin of its face.

“This game is stupid,” you huff, throwing the gun back at Dante with an indignant pout.

“What happened, buddy? I thought you were a pro!” Dante laughs heartily and catches the gun, standing up from his seat. He strides over to you and pats your back, gun held in his other hand.

“Ain’t gonna kill anyone when you’re all frowny like that,” he remarks, handing the gun back to you. “You gotta loosen up - be one with the gun.”

“I am ‘loosened up’,” you frown even harder and look at him over your shoulder as he moves behind you, strong hands massaging your tense traps almost mockingly. “Your gun just sucks.”

“Hey! She can hear you, ya know?!”

Dante swats the back of your head lightly in punishment, offended that you’d diss one of his beloved firearms, before resting his hands back on your shoulders.

“Give it another go,” he murmurs beside your ear. “Really try this time.”

With a sigh, you cock Ivory and raise your arm again, eyeing the target. Dante can feel the hesitation in your body as you try and pinpoint the shot, doubt creeping into your system. His hand slides down your arm and holds the gun along with you, body caging you from behind.

“It ain’t all that hard. Just point it a little higher, like this-“

He gently moves your hand up an inch or two, his chin lowered to your shoulder to be at your eye level. His fingers are warm and firm around yours, slightly distracting your intoxicated mind and making your heart do a somersault from the gentle contact. You clear your throat to refocus, peering over the gun.

“Pull the trigger half a second sooner than you think you should,” Dante whispers beside you, the smell of whiskey fanning off of him, caressing your sense of smell. “You got it.”

Sucking in another deep breath, you laser-focus on the cardboard cutout, trying to block out the warm body holding you behind. Following his advice, your finger pulls the trigger a little early than you normally would and the bullet sounds off. The cutout jerks and swings as you hit your mark, a hole forming right between its eyes.

“I did it!”

You whip around and beam proudly up at Dante, all traces of your defeated frown gone. He takes Ivory from you with a chuckle and tosses it back to sit beside her sister on the couch.

“I told ya! You just gotta have a little faith,” he muses, cupping your face and squishing your cheeks together. “Probably could’ve done it without my help, if you focused more the first time.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you laugh and shake your head loose of him, though his hand remains, opting to tenderly hold your face instead.

“Yeah, me neither. I was just tryna be nice.”

Dante gives you a lopsided smile and brushes your cheek with his thumb, his eyes giving away his usually airtight thoughts. His smile waivers and he averts his eyes for a breath, returning them to you with a more sincere gaze.

“I, uh…wanted to thank you,” he starts, a wrinkle on his forehead creasing as he tries to formulate a coherent sentiment. “-for coming over. We don’t get a lotta downtime these days, and I know these jobs really take it out of you. Not that I blame you for wanting some space from me outside of hunting, because I know I’m a handful and all that jazz. But y’know, I-“

“Dante.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay,” you smile earnestly and rest your hands on his arms, knowing he has the tendency to ramble when he’s nervous or out of his element. “I wanted to come.”

“Right - yeah, I know…I just-“

“I know.”

You let out a hum of a laugh and slide your hands down to hold his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. Dante visibly relaxes and lets out a weighted breath, his expression softening up. There’s so much more he wanted to say, but he knew you knew without even verbalizing it - and he was thankful for that. Feelings weren’t really his forte, especially with someone so pretty looking up at him like he was the only man in the world.

“…I got a crossbow upstairs, if you’re feeling plucky,” he finally resolves in saying, putting the heavy conversation aside for now.

A big smile spreads on your face and you giggle at his stupid pun, nodding and swaying his hands in yours.

“Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me this whole time,” you snort, dropping his hands. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Go grab it

[mannequinreligi0n]

dante nation .. i am writing .

[mannequinreligi0n]

thinking really big thoughts about vergil having an oral fixation and constantly biting his lover when they’re cuddling or sucking on their fingers while they’re fucking him.

[mannequinreligi0n]

forgot that a lot of you don’t follow my ig, where i post art and stuffs. anyways, here’s vampire!vergil sketches teehee

[mannequinreligi0n]

The Lamb

breaking and entering? check. feeding a vampire? check.

pairing: vampire!vergil x reader (gn)

wc: 1700

warnings: blood, blood consumption (duh)

notes: i saw a twilight edit on my fyp and immediately wrote this. vampire vergil feeds from me every night and sleeps in my closet. also i loved that i got to incorporate the lamb by william blake in this, since that’s my fav poem of his heeheeeheeheehehehhe

links: ao3

In the outskirts of the city, the Sparda Estate loomed like a shadow atop a hill, the scent of iron rot and myths of inhuman creatures warding off even the bravest of trespassers. Confusing foolishness for bravery, you climb up the rocky facade to the withered mansion, in hopes of scoping out the home for its secrets. The home had been abandoned for decades after the fire, but as you approached the brute, coppered gates, you could feel eyes on you. Whether they were literal eyes or just ghosts of memory past was unsure, but you persisted, pushing open the gate.

Though you had faced demons before, vampires were believed to be either extinct or in hiding, as the last one executed publicly was nearly 40 years ago. Rumors circulated town that one occupied the old Sparda Mansion, feeding on anyone who dared to enter. The rumors were mostly stories to scare children away from it, though some swore they would see a shadow lurking behind windows late in the night.

Unlocked, the heavy front door screams as it opens into the decrepit home, dust and cobwebs blanketing the oak staircase and the many antiquities on display. Your footsteps echo throughout the empty foyer, the flooring moaning under the weight of your boots. Everything seemed untouched. No graffiti, no broken vases - just the remnants of scorch marks from the devastating fire and what had survived. But, that was the problem. It was preserved, captured and frozen in time. Even with the sign of age and neglect, the floor was swept clean of debris, heirlooms were upright and neatly placed. It made unease settle in your stomach, and it only worsened when you approached a wall beside the wooden stairs.

There was wood filler smoothed over a depression in the wall, like it had been recently patched.

Someone was here - is here.

Extending a finger out, you swipe a finger along the fix, the wet glue leaving behind a sticky residue. Perplexed, you start to retract your hand from the wall when a pillowy voice waterfalls down from the balcony of the second floor, making you freeze in place.

“If you touch the binding, it will not dry properly, little lamb.”

Garnering courage, you start to turn to locate the voice above, only to be greeted with the source a foot away, the tall, pale man standing at the foot of the stairs. You jump from surprise and scamper away, back hitting the wall as you study the man with terrified eyes. He looked human, but there was a ghastly aura to him, dread chilling your bones. With skin so pale it blended into his hair, he looked like a ghost. Even as he stepped closer to you, you could’ve swore he was floating with how graceful every movement was. It wasn’t until he laughed at your blatant fear that you caught sight of the pointed canines in his mouth.

“Wh-..who are you?…What are you?” You stumble out, hands grasping at the frayed wallpaper behind you as he stalks closer, his satin laughter still chiming in your ears.

“What am I?” he laughs again, cocking his head to the left, strands of moonlight hair falling out of place. “‘Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life and bid thee feed?’”

You knew you should flee, should push him away. But even with his threatening presence, there was a deep loneliness to the blues of his irises, making you remain in place. He stretches out a cold, slender finger and brushes a knuckle along the side of your face, steel eyes dedicated to your features.

“‘I a child,…and thou a lamb,’” he murmurs, breath fanning across your skin. There’s a predatory gleam to his eyes, a deep-rooted hunger that makes your skin crawl. As beautiful as he was, the feeling that you were a meal sobered you out of his trance.

Fight or flight kicking in, you shove his hand away and try to run past him, only for a quick hand to snatch your wrist and yank you back like a doll. The strength of the pull makes your body jerk and stumble back, tripping over yourself and crashing into a nearby table, a porcelain figure shattering and slicing into the flesh of your arm. You lie on the ground with a groan, head woozy and blood trickling down to the floor.

“Have you no manners?! You trespass into my home and then attempt to leave without stating your business? Humans are such infuriating things!” the man grumbles to himself as he paces a few feet away from you, kicking away porcelain shards. “And the mess you’ve made! How shall I replace something from 1897? Hmm?”

“…..your ‘home’?” you blink up at him with a puzzled expression, eyes still unfocused from hitting your head.

“Yes, my home, you idiot,” he scoffs loudly and points up at a family portrait hanging above the stairwell. “Is that not me at my mother’s side?”

Your eyes follow his hand up to the painting, squinting to focus your vision. The portrait had been damaged in the fire, but you could still make out most of the faces. You recognized the photo from old articles about the fire, remembering how they listed off the ‘deceased’ family members. Two twin boys stood beside their father and in front of their mother, her hand protectively over the shoulder of one of the twins.

“Vergil,” you recall quietly, studying the sharp nose and hooded eyes of the child that mimicked the man before you. Your gaze flickers back to him, noting the distance between him and your collapsed form. “But everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“Not dead, no…” Vergil shakes his head, his mask slipping for a moment to reveal the pain he harbored from past memories. His nose twitches and his expression hardens once more, brows furrowing as he glances down to the gash on your forearm. You notice his fingers clench around the fabric of his pants, like he’s holding himself back. Remembering the fangs shrouded by his upper lip, you look down at the blood on your arm before back up to him.

“You’re hungry,” you state, the realization on your face. Despite your better judgement and literally every legend you’ve ever heard about vampires, you decide maybe offering him yourself wouldn’t be a bad idea. If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done it already - right?

“I am not,” Vergil scrunches his nose, turning his head away in mock disapproval.

“You are, I can tell,” you nod and slowly push yourself to stand up, wincing from the ache in your body. You take a few shaky steps towards him, extending out your injured arm.

Vergil’s eyes immediately flit back to you, following the trail of blood you were leaving behind with each step. “Why?” he narrows his eyes suspiciously, trying to hide how much he was fighting with himself.

“Consider it a peace-offering, for breaking and entering,” you offer him a nervous smile, arm shaking with fear as you hold it out for him.

Vergil chuckles with a smirk, finding your bravery amusing more than anything. He takes a calculated stride towards you, long fingers wrapping around your wrist securely. Bowing his head down, he makes a faint hiss in the back of his throat, fangs glinting in the light from the moon coming in. Before making contact, he pauses and looks up at you through silver lashes, eyes deceivingly soft.

“You’re certain?”

“…Will it kill me?”

“No.”

“Then, yes.”

“Foolish little lamb.”

You can hear a laugh rumble his chest before you’re overtaken by the sharp pain of teeth digging into your skin. The fangs make a sickly sound as they puncture the flesh, Vergil’s mouth locked onto the cut and swallowing down the decadent life source. Cheeks hollowed, he draws the blood out in gulps, a satisfied moan vibrating against your arm. As the seconds pass, the dizziness returns, making your head swirl as you lose more and more blood. Despite it, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride, being able to provide for not only a feared predator, but a man of myth. You watch in clouded awe as he drinks, committing his face to memory - the curved nose bridge, the slope of his cheeks, the pouty lips. You didn’t even register that your legs were giving out under you, Vergil slowly lowering the two of you to the ground.

He sat you down and kneeled before you, moving to bite down on a fresh patch of skin closer to your wrist. The stab of fangs makes you lurch back, a moan of pain and disturbing pleasure lamely falling from your mouth. It’s like you could feel the blood pump out of you, his tongue lapping at the new bite to lure out your wine. Now that he was even closer, his scent mingled with the coppery tinge of blood - oak, lavender, and smoke mingling together to form an imprint on your brain.

“Too…..too much…” you croak out, yanking weakly at his hair. He shakes his head against you with a growl, his other hand pinning down your leg to the ground to hold you in place. The entire room is spinning, spots of black impairing your vision. The last thing you remember is calling out his name and seeing his head rise up, mouth releasing you with a ‘pop’ as blood dribbled down his jaw.

The rest of the night was a blur, you falling in and out of consciousness. It was mostly a burst of slideshow memories - his teeth scraping along your skin, the way the blood coated his fangs as he smiled up at you, how light you felt when he carried you up to the master bedroom upstairs. As he laid you down on the old bed, you could hear his light steps as he circled around, pulling blankets over your pathetic body. ‘Rest,’ you heard him whisper before you felt gentle lips press against your forehead, coercing you to sleep. Even in your dreams, he was there, kneeling before you like an angel, swallowing down mouthfuls of your life.

[mannequinreligi0n]

Spectacle

you’re the demon king’s personal pet - how fun !

pairing: urizen x reader (afab)

wc: 1.5k

warnings: NSFW!! - oral (female receiving), penetration, tentacles

notes: it’s 2am. i don’t know what possessed me to write this . sorry for not posting more, depression sux .

The generals of the war council tried to remain focused as Urizen relayed plans of attack, but every rattle of your leash made their eyes fall back to the crescent-shaped form in Urizen’s lap. Small breaths puffed from your curled body as you snoozed like a house cat, occasionally shifting or stretching out across the demon king. Your special treatment wasn’t lost on the generals, unsure how a mere pet could earn such a right to be doted on by their lord. But even so, any objection or off-handed comment was met with merciless punishment - disrespect was not tolerated in the slightest.

“I seem to bore you,” Urizen rumbles out in a deep, melodic tone, vowels reverberating off the dome overhead the throne room. “Do my words hold such little value to my sworn disciples?”

A chorus of objections stumble out of the generals, harmonies of ‘no, my king’s and ‘forgive me’s, the brute demons pleading for mercy. Urizen’s pairs of eyes flicker around the table with a thoughtful growl, casting judgement. Cutting the council meeting short was not in his best interest, but it was clear by the wandering eyes that little would be accomplished today anyways. Waving his hand, the orbs lighting the table and the outlaid plans are snuffed out, leaving the room in a monochromatic red hue from the living walls.

“Time is not a luxury I have, and you cretin have purloined enough of it. Leave us,” Urizen narrows his eyes at the group, sharp teeth casting long shadows down his jaw. “-and remember my clemency today, as it will be the last time.”

The demons remain frozen in their seats, fear chilling through their spines, until another growl rattles Urizen’s throat. They scurry out of their chairs, filing quickly out the double doors. As soon as they click shut and only the two remain, Urizen lowers his chin to his chest and peers down at you with his main set of eyes. Met with your own awake, albeit sleepy, pair, he lets out a metallic chuckle, a scaly knuckle grazing over your cheek.

“Did I wake you, my little inamorata?”

“No, I was enjoying the show,” you stretch out your weary limbs over the span of his thighs, a small smile gracing your face. With a yawn and jingle of your collar, you sit up on your knees in his lap, your frame nearly a fifth of his.

Urizen hums lowly, the large finger near your face lowering to your collar. A single talon tugs on the binding, admiring the way the leather fits snugly around your delicate throat. Objectively, it was a symbol of servitude, but to him, it was so much more. Ownership, trust, companionship. Even the king of the underworld needed a confidant, a reprieve from the tireless demands of ruling.

“The show?” He chuckles softly, fangs twisting upwards into as much of a grin as he can muster. “Idiocy can be quite entertaining, yes…but you, you are the true spectacle.”

A tendril slithers from behind him, stalking toward your arm. It slides up and around your limb with a gentle squeeze, an uncharacteristic gentleness in the touch. You giggle and squirm a little under the attention, gently tugging away from the root.

“You flatter me, my king,” you answer, meeting the gaze with an eye on his abdomen before flickering up to his face. With a tug, Urizen pulls you to lay back down in his lap, sprawling you out. A second tentacle winds itself slowly up a leg, the smooth stone-like flesh gliding across your skin.

“Shall I flatter you more, little lamb?”

Urizen’s chest shakes with an almost mirthful laugh, watching you try and weasel away from his hold. The tendril around your leg slithers under the cloth of the robe covering you, brushing between the heated folds tucked between your legs. With a shaky sigh, your eyelids flutter as your back arches away from his leg. Taking it as a sign to continue, his tentacle prods the tip at your already excited entrance, feeling you throb at the smallest stimulation. A whimper leaves your mouth and you force your eyes back open enough to lock onto a pair lining his navel.

“Please, my lord..” you murmur quietly, hips jutting toward the tentacle with impatience.

Urizen bows his head to get a better look at you from above, taking in the picture of you begging and writhing for him. Time has made him soft, unable to leave you unfulfilled for too long. Something about how easily you gave into his every whim and need made him feel more revered and powerful than any of his loyal devotees did. Urizen could smite a demon without a single thought, crush a skull with a flick of his wrist - and yet, nothing felt as rewarding as retiring for the day and escaping to his chambers to see you.

The squelching sound of wet flesh invades the throne room as his tentacle pushes into your hole. Slicked with your arousal, the tendril curls into your cunt with repeated pulses, grazing your g-spot in a rhythmic pattern. The other lone tentacle coils around your torso to hold you still, the end of it stuffing itself into your agape mouth to muffle your mewls of pleasure. Drool leaks from the corners of your lips, hips humping into the tentacle, addicted to the feeling of being filled and used.

“Such a distraction you are, and yet, I indulge you…How benevolent of me,” Urizen muses, every eye on him fixated on your defiled form. There was a sense of pride blooming in his chest from how easily you gave into him and his whims. Not a protest to be heard. “How many strings of yours can I pluck until you unravel completely, hm?”

You try to sniff down more air as the tentacle around you tightens and bunts into the back of your throat, making you gag and desperate for air. Despite the minor challenge of breathing, you relent to his ministrations, walls pulsating around the tentacle widening your slit. With a muffled groan, you feel your clit swell and twitch with the threat of orgasm, needing to satiate the frenzied want rampaging through your cells. Urizen, fluent in your body language, knows you’re close and withdraws both tentacles from you, leaving you whining like a beaten dog as your hips rut into the air. A perverse but joyous laugh shakes Urizen, the roots binding around your wrists while two more spring from him and mimic the motions on your legs. Flailing you, he hoists your stretched hole up to his face, your face dangling beneath midair.

“To think I went so long without you…,” Urizen cuts himself off as he licks a long stripe between your legs, the textured, glistening tongue eliciting a shiver and lame moan from you. Your reaction makes him chuckle again and sharp teeth separate further to bring your lower half nearly inside his mouth, the large tongue flattening against your drenched heat. A wave of fear turns your stomach as you dangle before him, getting a good look at the fangs a little too close to your fragile skin. You’d seen him plenty, but it was still sobering to remember how truly terrifying he truly was. Even so, you knew that if Urizen did want to eat you, he wouldn’t have bothered making you come first.

Grooves along his demonic tongue slide up and down your folds, making your clit perk up and throb from the attention. You whimper out his name pathetically, legs twitching against the hold of the tentacles. It’s only half a minute before you give in, cries of pleasure bouncing off the throne room walls and right into Urizen’s ears. He laps up the stream of release from your hole, a steady purr vibrating his chest as the divine nectar coats his tastebuds. An eye near his shoulder catches the sight of tears falling from your face and he recognizes it as your sign of overstimulation. With one more rough kitten lick, he pulls his head back to nibble gently on your inner thigh. Using great restraint, Urizen leaves a faint bite mark on the supple flesh - only enough to barely break the skin and not cause any real harm. He retreats entirely and the tentacles flip you to face him upright, the roots slithering to support your lower and mid section. Panting and wiping tears away with your released hands, you manage to stutter out semi-coherent words.

“Thank-…Thank you, Uri, my king…so gracious..”

“Save your tears, sweet lamb,” The pad of his large thumb brushes away at a wet eye, fangs shining in the dim light of the room into a smile. “,for you will need them when I fill your womb later.”

[mannequinreligi0n]

I'm a first time asker but I just wanted to send a quick thank you for that Vergil with a chubby reader post. I'm on the thicker side and it made me feel really good about myself as I've been super down with body image issues the last few days.

AAAHH i’m so glad !! i’ve struggled w body issues myself my whole life - as mitski once said “i’ve been big and small and big and small and big and small again”, so i totally get you. representation is so important, and i’m happy you were able to find some comfort in my work !!

we love every body here !

if you ever have any requests similar to that post, feel free to send them my way <3

yours

obscura

[mannequinreligi0n]

okay forgive me if this is too specific or something u wouldnt wanna write but perchance some smutty vergil x chubby reader would be rlly nice …. can literally be any type of smut you want idec i just crave more explicit love for the fat girls in x readers on here 😞

Vergil x Chubby/Fat!Reader HCS

Vergil is literally president of the big booty bitches club so naturally, I have to respond to this. NSFW warning.

**Notes are posted at the bottom.

- So in a prev post, I mentioned how Vergil would find full-figured women attractive and I’m RIGHT. Vergil would have a very traditional/instinctual attraction toward people since he’s very in tune with his demonic side. It’s allllll about who’s the best partner for sustainability and health and fertility. Think of the Venus of Willendorf! A beautiful carving of a rounder body, praised for her beauty and ability to provide life. It all ties back to our survival instincts and what we desire most in a mate.

- With that in mind, Vergil would absolutely go for someone thicker. Someone to come home to after a long day of fighting and just meld into.

- Not to indulge the ‘Vergil is possessive’ stereotype, but he IS. It’s definitely not something he’ll display around other people, but in the comfort of your own home, he is touchy and needy. It’s borderline annoying. Constantly laid on top of you, calloused fingers squeezing love-handles and plump flesh like a damn stress ball. ‘Mine, mine, mine’ is all that’s bouncing around his demon brain as he grasps and caresses the soft rolls and round curves.

- I’ve already established Vergil as an ass man, and it’ll only be worse if his partner is lugging around a dumptruck of an ass behind them. He’ll roll you over to your stomach to lay his head on your bottom, gripping and biting marks into the flesh until it hurts to sit. As soon as the hickeys start to fade, he’ll make sure to pin you back down and add fresh ones so there’s a permanent brand of who you belong to.

- Vergil has a certificate of excellence in eating pussy, with a medal in face-sitting. He doesn’t care how heavy you are, how much you protest - he’s holding you down above him by your hips and is smothering himself in your flesh. You think you’ll break his neck? You won’t - and even if you did, he’s a devil! It’ll heal, and he’ll pull you right back down to do it all over again, just so he can feel you ride his face. He’s not letting you off until you’re practically shoving him away, only to reveal that charming, shit-eating smile of his covered in the glisten of your release.

- Having a heavier partner would only mean free workout equipment for Vergil. He’d have you sit on his back while he does pushups, bench press you, carry you while he runs around. It’s a welcome challenge that translates to the bedroom. This man dropkicks demons that probably weigh as much as a car - you bet your ass he’s got you pretzels in his arms, supporting your full weight while he drives himself into you. Something about seeing the pillowy flesh recoil and bounce every time he thrusts back in makes his head feel like he just did whippets.

- Circling back, a lot of this ties into body worship. Vergil is an adoring, devoted man. A true poetic lover. If you don’t feel like an otherworldly goddess being worshipped by a lowly devotee, then something’s wrong. He will literally kiss the ground you walk on, cater to your every need, make sure you feel like the most treasured and beautiful person to ever grace his vision. If he had his way, he’d spend every second of the day kissing every inch of your body and murmuring prophetic proclamations of love and devotion.

**Notes: This would be dependent on the duration of the relationship. Vergil is not a trusting man, so to get him to this level would require the relationship to be long-term. I’ve never seen him as someone who has flings or one-night stands, so if he loves someone, he really loves them and wants to always be with them.

[mannequinreligi0n]

to those of you who are moving here from tiktok, from someone whos used both tiktok and tumbr for years...

1. DO NOT censor your posts

dont censor sex, abuse, suicide, dont censor it. we dont have censors like tiktok does, you wont be banned for talking about these things and tagging them properly helps people avoid them (also, we dont have shadowbanning here)

2. we dont really have an algorithm

you follow who you follow, and you see posts from who you follow or what you search. the 'for you page' is basically useless here. this also brings me to my next two points

3. dont crosstag

we get it, on tiktok you have to crosstag for reach, but thats not really a thing here. just tag your posts properly (also posters often leave more info about the post in the tags!! and when you reblog stuff you can leave your own notes in the tags, kind of like the old "repost comments" on tiktok)

4. dont expect to go viral/be famous

"viral" isnt really a thing on here (at least not for the average blogger). your posts will probably get 2-10 likes and you wont get nearly as many followers than on tiktok. thats just how tumblr is

5. blocking is your best friend

tiktok is VERY discussion based, and while tumblr is much more discussion based than other social medias, its still not a good place for ragebait/discourse. dont interact, itll make your experience worse in the end, just block and move on

6. you cant go into someone elses house and start rearranging their furniture

this is tumblr, not tiktok. dont diss old tumblr users for how they use the site or try to change them, thats like going into someone elses house and trying to rearrange their furniture. we've been here longer and we're familiar with the site and its culture, either find your niche, adapt, or find a different app

[mannequinreligi0n]

david lynch’s passing this morning has struck me incredibly deep. lynch has always had a way of opening the psyche and baring it to the world, forcing the viewer to see the ugliest parts of themselves.

when i was younger, i suffered from self-induced insomnia. my nightmares were debilitating and tormented me greatly, and i would often force myself to stay up as long as possible to avoid them. rewatching twin peaks as an adult, seeing laura palmer, during that time of need gave me the courage to face my dreams, to take them and make their messages into something meaningful. to actualize them on paper, either through art or written work. to process trauma that my subconscious pushed down to the darkest part of my soul. to see what my mind was trying to tell me and accept it as a part of myself. i am no longer scared to dream or to look into the darkness.

lynch was a true visionary with an understanding of this world that one can only hope to achieve, and i will miss him greatly.

[mannequinreligi0n]

@ the person who just sent me my most recent ask - if i told you vergil was a chubby chaser, would you believe me .

you know how in the ye olden days, having extra weight was a sign of fertility and health, and was extremely desirable…..yeah.

thinking big thoughts.

[mannequinreligi0n]

kicks rocks bashfully with top of shoe looks glumly at ground tears forming at eyes falls face first in the dirt crying do you still do writing requests

no tears, my love ! requests are always open unless i post/specify otherwise - so request away !!!

due to stress from some personal hardships, i’ve had both a lack of time and energy to post more as of late, but hopefully that will change now that the dust is settling. i miss interacting with everyone here and love speaking with all of you dearly :)

i’ll actually be sifting through my ask box tomorrow and fulfilling some (hopefully 2), if you’d like to get yours in before then ! there’re a couple i have mental notes for already and anticipate answering, though some….will be left be. i don’t particularly care for vague or even hyper-specific requests.

too vague = not enough to go on and i fear misinterpreting it

too specific = it’s a niche that won’t cater to a broader audience. you want something catered to you specifically ? - eehhhhhhhhhh write it yourself lol.

sorry if that’s mean . it just seems fair to be transparent as to why some asks will not be responded to.

anywho ! thank you to you and everyone else for the continuous support !!

big daddy love you, peace

obscura

[mannequinreligi0n]

i literally will die on the hill that vergil is just as big of a flirt as dante. like we’ve seen that vergil inherently is soooo unserious - he loves to taunt dante and play stupid little games for his own amusement. obviously, his flirting would not be as direct as dante’s flirting would be, but vergil would totally think bullying is flirting or try to get the one-up on someone just to watch them try to best him.

it also makes a lot of sense if you add the context of v. v is literally vergil’s human side, and i think the fandom forgets that v’s personality IS vergil’s personality. he’s poetic and thoughtful, but he also loves to challenge people mentally and say cryptic bullshit just to get a reaction out of people. in terms of flirting, vergil wouldn’t see ruffling your feathers as trying to aggravate or belittle you, but as a way to challenge whomever he’s pursuing. he loves to push buttons and part of the fun is seeing how much someone can take and to what lengths they’ll go to “fight” back. it’s very methodical and sly, but it’s whore behavior nonetheless.

i personally headcanon the twins as libras anyways for a multitude of reasons (mainly because they are PETTYYYYYY (and fruity)), but libras are ruled by venus, meaning they are MASSIVE flirts. even if there’s no endgame, even if it’s just to pass time, libras will smile and try to charm anyone under their little spell. they crave validation and admiration, and have no qualms using flattery to get it. granted, we’ve hardly, if ever, seen vergil outside of the context of battle or dante, so it is hard to say exactly how he is. but again, given v’s personality, the way he talks and carries himself, it’s safe to assume that vergil would mimic that.

tldr - vergil is a flirtatious whore that loves to get on people’s nerves just to get a reaction out of them.

[mannequinreligi0n]

i actually wrote something - everyone clap and rejoice.

i actually had this roughly drafted up in my notes app for months and then randomly found the energy to put it into fruition.

idk if vergil is actually crazy but i like the idea of him hallucinating v before splitting himself in two, like literally fighting with his humanity. the concept of vergil being schizophrenic and arguing with the air makes me heehee haha.

sorry, vergil (i’m not sorry)

[mannequinreligi0n]

Kinda I Want To

vergil gets pegged, that’s it

pairing: vergil x reader

wc: 2k

warnings: nsfw! - pegging, male receiving

author’s note: it’s my birthday today :D as a present, pls accept vergil riding the strap - enjoy !

It took Vergil almost two weeks to muster up the courage to ask you for what he wanted. Every single day, he’d open your shared closet to fish out clothes, only to have the bag at the bottom of the closet taunt him. He knew it was silly to be nervous - you were his partner of two years, who had seen him in every imaginable way. But the thought of physically voicing his wants, especially something so selfish, made Vergil’s heart rate abnormally spike.

He found you in the bathroom, freshly showered and getting dressed to leave for work. All thought momentarily slipped his mind as soon as he walked in, stormy blues hyper-focued on your hands tugging at the button to your jeans.

“Vergil? Did you need something, honey?”

Your voice snaps his attention back and he centers it on your face instead, his own fingers clenching around the sides of his pajama bottoms. It was too much - his chest felt tighter and his sweaty palms shook at his side. Why was he so scared? What if you said no? He wouldn’t be able to live with the embarrassment. He would have to move out, fly to a new state. Maybe change his name. Sell his car, close his bank account, start a new-

“Helloooo? Earth to Vergil?” You tilted your head with a short chuckle, stepping up to him and pinching his cheek. Vergil blinked hard at you and jolted slightly from the physical contact, his anxious train of thought halting.

“I-, sorry…..I…I….have a re-request…for when you get home,” he finally mumbles out, clearing his throat after and fixing his posture to seem more sure of himself.

“Okay,” you shrug gently and drop your hand from his face, nodding softly. “Ask away.”

“The…I want…I wish to-…eereuuggh! Dammit, woman!” Vergil turns away his head from you, face firetruck red as he mutters frustratedly to himself. He takes a harsh deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut, the words jumbled together. “Iwantthestrapagain. There, I said it.”

There was a moment of silence before you shrugged again and stepped away from him, collecting some things from the bathroom counter. “Yeah, alright,” you finally reply, making a face of indifference. “I’ll be home after 6.”

“That’s it?” Vergil scowls down at you, a look of offense plastered on his features. He just voiced his deepest desire, and you’re treating it like he asked you to pick up bread on the way home. It was both insulting and baffling to him.

“Yes, that’s it. Now, excuse me, I’m gonna be late,” you chirp out, hopping up to peck a kiss on his lips before sliding past him to leave. Vergil remained frozen in place, looking around the bathroom in confusion. He couldn’t believe you agreed so easily, no convincing needed. He had built up a whole case in defense of his claim, and you agreed without even questioning him, as if it was a given.

God, he loved you so much.

——————

Vergil paced around the house for hours, occupying himself with cleaning or mindless tv as the time drone by. How could he be normal when as soon as you got home, you were gonna have him bent over into the duvet? He found himself looming over the bag in the closet, hands reaching down for it with anxious fingers. The strap was disassembled, the leather harness detached from the 8 incher. Just feeling the leather against his skin brought back memories of the first time - his large hands digging into your hips as you fucked into him, legs pretzel folded to his chest. He couldn’t wait - he needed to feel it, to be reminded of that full feeling he craved.

Fuck it.

Vergil tossed the bag into the queen sized bed and waltzed into the bathroom to prep.

———————

When you got home, Vergil was passed out on your shared bed, snoring faintly as a blanket haphazardly covered his bare form. You thought nothing of it til you caught a glimpse of your harness discarded on the floor and its attachment on the other side of the bed. Walking over and picking it up, you stifle a laugh as you swat Vergil’s arm with it, the silicone bouncing off his arm with a comical ‘slap’. With a groan, Vergil sits up groggily and rubs at his eyes.

“What is this?” You hold up the slicked dildo at Vergil with an accusatory glare, fighting back a smile.

“I, um-,” Vergil stared at your hand with guilt, hair sticking up and pillow lines on his face from his nap. He knew he shouldn’t have been so hasty, so greedy, but the strap had personally mocked him. How was he supposed to wait til you got home? “……I couldn’t wait,” he finally murmurs out sheepishly, pulling the covers better over himself as if preparing to be scolded.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?”

Vergil watches you like a hawk as you set down the dildo and walk around the bed to collect the harness from the ground to reattach the two pieces. You slip off your clothing, kicking them away, and fasten the harness to your hips, the leather straps making snug impressions against your skin.

“You wanna show me what you did while I was gone?” You ask, tilting your head at him with an endeared smile, not a hint of anger on your face. Vergil blinked at you dumbly, expecting to have been punished for his selfish act, but remembered himself and scrambled off the bed, nearly taking a dive to the ground as his lanky legs tangled in the duvet. He stands upright and gestures to the bed with a goofy smile, chest huffing with excited breaths. His eyes follow you as you climb onto the bed, heading up to lean against the headboard. He waited until you patted your lap to crawl up to you, exposed cock half-hard and leaning to the side as he hovers over you. Swallowing back the nervous pool of saliva in his mouth, he leans down and kisses you tenderly, puffs of air brushing your face as your noses collide. You’re the first to break the kiss, pressing a few chaste pecks around his mouth before speaking.

“Ready? Or do you need time?”

“Ready,” Vergil murmurs against your cheek, strands of silver hair tickling your forehead as he nods. He wiggles his large form above you, getting into position but also keeping most of his weight off of you to not crush you into the mattress. One hand curls around the headboard whilst the other clings to your shoulder, fingers flexing against your skin.

“Go ahead, honey,” you whisper, looking up at him with what Vergil could only discern as pride, “take what you want.”

Vergil lets out a shaky chuckle and nods again before positioning the tip of the strap to his hole. He slides down halfway with a muffled grunt, brow knit together and teeth biting down on his puffy lower lip. His eyes flutter shut for a few beats as he adjusts to the stretch before reopening them, blue irises searching your own eyes for reassurance. A steady hand wraps around his twitching length, pumping him slowly with an affirming nod of your head. Vergil gasps at the contact, blunt fingernails digging into your shoulder as he juts toward hand, making the strap glide into him. The strap is fully sheathes into him and Vergil’s jaw goes slack as he ruts against your palm, the combination of your slicked hand and the fullness of the strap making every coherent thought leave him completely.

With several concentrated breaths, Vergil gathers himself and lifts his hips slightly to start riding you, thighs tight around your sides. He grabs your hand from his sensitive cock, choosing to entwine your fingers together and keep your hand away from him so he doesn’t come prematurely. His hand squeezes yours tightly as he rolls his pelvis up and down, the head of the dildo rubbing into his g-spot repeatedly every time he takes it all the way back in.

“Look at you…so pretty for me,” you coo in a hushed tone, eyes focused on the blissful expression on his usually stern face. Vergil smiles bashfully, sharp canines flashing you before a moan twists his face, making his head lull back with heavy breaths.

“I’m-…I’m doing good?” Vergil peeks his eyes open to you as he musters the strength to lift his head, a faint pout on his mouth. He kind of hated how pathetic he looked right now, vulnerable and seeking validation, but you never judged him, never made him feel ashamed or unsafe. As much as he loved being stuffed by you (even if artificially), he loved the connection it brought immensely more. As long as you were there, it made all of it enjoyable and worth it.

“You’re doing wonderfully, my sweet boy,” you murmur back to him, reaching up with your free hand to cup his face. Vergil sighs out a whimper and leans further into your hand, nuzzling the smooth, warm fingers against his skin. That’s all the permission he needs to keep going, eyelids slipping back down as he quickens his pace. Vergil shifts his weight to his knees and rides up and down, up and down again, every pass drawing out a weak groan or choked whimper. You watch in awe as your lover fucks himself into elysium, his face dusted red from effort. Vergil starts to slow slightly as his breathing picks up, thighs trembling around you, and you decide to help him out a bit, matching his steady bounces with thrusts of your own. The headboard rattles as he keeps his grip firm around the metal frame, head slumped forward and drool forming on his lip as he halts above you to let your hips do the work. His eyelids flutter and he drops your hand to return it to your shoulder for stability.

“There, there..” he whines to you lamely, the saliva sputtering on his lip and forming a string down to your cheek. In any other scenario, you’d wipe it away with mock disgust or tease him for it, but holy hell, he looks like an angel right now - cheeks cherub pink, lips swollen from biting them, eyes rolled back into his head. It was a vision of heaven, and you refused to sour it. Your hand now free, you reach back over to his leaking cock, slicking your hand with precum and stroking it in time to your thrusts into him. Vergil mewls at the contact, pout deepening as incoherent whispers escape him. It only takes a few more passes of your hand before he whimpers out a limp, late warning, white and sticky seed spurting out of his tip. He sits back onto the strap, pelvis pathetically twitching into your hand as cum drips down your fingers and his abdomen. Slowing your hips to a stop, you brush your hand on his face through his hair and lick your other hand clean, watching him catch his breath.

Vergil’s eyes slowly creak open and he catches sight of you sucking your digits free of his seed, making his tired cock twitch in his lap. He growls out a faint ‘mine’ and swipes your hand your mouth, suctioning his mouth to three of your fingers, moaning at the heady taste. You only chuckle in return, a fond smile gracing your face as you watch in delight.

“Satisfied?” You ask cheekily, pulling your hand from his mouth.

Vergil frowns as you pull away from him, opting to hold your hand again instead to maintain contact. “I want more,” he pouts, shifting his weight on your lap.

“More? You’re so spoiled,” you laugh warmly, pinching his side with your free hand. “Alright, you devil, hands and knees for me.”

He perks up at the command, crouching over to kiss you briefly before emptying himself of the strap with a groan, crawling to the center of the bed to position himself for you.

[mannequinreligi0n]

‘my body is a cage’

.

posted this elsewhere so figured i’d post it here, too. it’s no surprise that i’m a sucker for symbolism (and vergil), so naturally, this was produced as a result.