matchbet-revolved - Tumblr blog

[matchbet-revolved]

Currently thinking of Joshua Graham in the context of biblical passages but horny because of course I am.

For DAYS I've thought about Joshua in the context of 2 Nephi 25:29 in the Book of Mormon (I have a copy I was given despite not being religious lmao) and it has me out of my mind.

Biblical passages taken wildly out of context, religious sacrilege, and a snippet of smut below the cut. ✨

All I can think is that he'd have the courier on their knees before him, not allowed to touch him, but with his cock heavy in their mouth.

He starts with mumbles of the previous paragraphs of the chapter, before truly beginning with what he wants, eyes watching. If this is his rapture, he shall repent much as he needs just to fill their mouth for a second time, and perhaps a few hundred more.

They kiss and lick across the head of his dick and he gives them soft praises inbetween scriptures and the words of his Holy book.

His lips don't quite say the words initially, but he thinks them as his mind continues to 2 Nephi 25:29- "Deny him not."

It is as they sink their warm, wet mouth onto him that his words flood their ears like dark, rich ink from a toppled inkwell.

"Christ is the Holy One," Joshua murmurs, missing a few words as his mind muddies. He has his hand on their head to guide his cock further down their throat. "Ye must bow down before him with all your might, mind, and strength, and your whole soul."

His hips buck just a touch- once, twice, then twice more, and he's spilling down their throat with a raspy, choked groan, blasphemy falling from his lips.

His pretty blue eyes keep on them even as what remains of his dark lashes flutter, even with the burning pain in his abdomen thanks to his ruined muscles clenching too much from overuse.

"And if ye do this," he rasps, "ye shall in nowise be cast out."

[matchbet-revolved]

I LOVE THEM SM!!! Evil as fuck enby rep, we are SO back

This fucks exponentially no more "good rep" I want exclusively bad evil metal hardcore rep

[matchbet-revolved]

"We die, and the world will be poorer for it."

Prince Nuada Silverlance x Reader

Word count: 455

Angst, OOC (but everything is OOC if it isn't canon, so fuck it, we ball)

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Once, I made friends with Time. I myself was nothing more than a Careful Creature, young and curious. He was enduring and ancient.

We had a few long years together- or, at the very least, I thought them long, but his age likely meant it was the blink of an eye for him.

He opened up, slowly. About literature and old languages, customs of fighting and war, and legends and stories of his people. He told me of his armour, of his youth, of the golden war.

A few years passed, and he taught me some of the language, wrote in journals with yellowed pages all of his tongue so that I may keep it close to my heart like I did him.

He taught me of the trinkets and little machines he liked to make; tiny little machinations with minuscule springs and the smallest screws, making elaborate systems for puzzles or music boxes.

...he made one for me once, too.

And a new war came.

At first, I hoped we'd both survive. Then, I just hoped I'd die rather than him. But he took the blow, and there is nothing I could have done but hold him.

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He was dying. He asked me, with some of his last breaths, if I would honour him by tattooing his marks into my skin. Just to keep his people alive through me. He only trusted that to me.

I knew why- I could see it in his eyes.

And I told him no.

And instead begged him to carve it properly into my cheeks, like they had been done for him.

And with the last of his strength, he cut into my cheeks, a mirror image of the marks of his people that rested on his own.

He told me that he should be the one to die- that he had made too many mistakes, that he was part of a peoples so old they had forgotten who they were, who they were meant to be.

He told me that he should die, and the world would be better for it.

But he could not let me die. I asked him why.

He told me, "I am an old fae. This world has no room nor use for another angry heart like mine. I cannot change anymore, though you have softened me. But you- if you die, the world will be poorer for it."

And as he laid his spear in my palm, blood in his teeth, I saw nothing but worship in his golden eyes.

When he died moments later, I wept.

Because I knew for certain that the moment he took his last breath, he was truly dead- and the world was poorer for it.

[matchbet-revolved]

Shitty lil Lao doodle bc it's exam week and I'm exhausted...

[matchbet-revolved]

Doodlin' Kenshi's hand tattoo... Perhaps when it was fresher on his skin and the ink wasn't so faded?

Probably won't be finished, but it's mindless and nice :D

[matchbet-revolved]

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Pinned Post

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Heya, I'm Matchbet, better known as Match! Welcome to my writing (and occasionally art) blog! 🩷

My little den is 18+ exclusively, even if not all my writings are inherently explicit. I might also have edits or some art from time to time.

You can find my fics crossposted to my AO3 under: Matchbet_revolver

As of now, asks are NOT opened, and likely won't be for some time as I get writings finished, edited, posted, etc! (And that will take a little time before posting really starts or kicks into high gear, so... Oof)

Writing tag: #match writes

Art tag: #match doodles

To be updated!

You can find my (also 18+) main blog here: @matchbet-allofthetime

Enjoy the debauchery, my loves!

[matchbet-revolved]

Reblogging to the writing sideblog ❤️

Okay here's some of my personal RE HCs because no one is stopping me.

These are in no way like the be-all-end-all for hcs (everyone has their own ofc and i have so many overlapping concepts, so feel free to share!!) but I wanted to post these anyways

This is really long, so...

Enjoy under the cut!

Wesker

───✦ He/They ───✦ Pansexual, demiromantic ───✦ Agender (gender is meaningless for him personally) ───✦ Built like a god damn refrigerator. Just a fucking rectangle of a man. ───✦ Ik this is canon but I love it, so I'm adding it anyways- he originally covered his eyes with his glasses to hide the emotions he deemed his greatest weakness and later did it to hide irritation and his eyes ───✦ I think part of the reason he did it was because Chris came to him looking like a kicked puppy one day after Wesker scolded him and Wesker got the softest look on his face for Chris, so he always wore glasses from then on ───✦ He's super proud of Chris and wishes, despite everything, that they could be like old friends again. He misses how carefree and nonchalant Chris used to be before all the outbreaks hardened him into more of a machine than a man ───✦ Actually really hates Umbrella, but tolerated them and used their resources for his own experimentation and ideals ───✦ I know that in canon, he's about 6' 3" or 190 cm, but I think he towers over everyone at somewhere around 6' 5-6' 9". He isn't built like a boulder like Chris is (pun intended) but he IS taller and I like making height differences more dramatic ───✦ He really loves rain and fog. ───✦ His AW Model Samurai Edge has his initials carved right under the short barrel of the gun, right where you attach a silencer- and he has Chris' initials carved right in front of the trigger. He thinks of it as a way for Chris to 'keep him doing things in the right direction'

Chris

───✦ He/Him ───✦ Bisexual ───✦ AKFHSKFNEJ THIS MAN IS MASSIVE. He is super huge. Fuck canon he's 6' 5" because LOOK AT HIM IN RE8, PLEASE- ───✦ Asian-american (his facial features in vendetta? pfft, please, this man is asian. I think Korean personally.) The name Redfield is of Scottish origin, but I think his american family fled from scotland to escape the British regime similarly to what my family did ───✦ Canonically can't read during a flashback, which is probably referring to him being unable to read sheet music specifically, since he's trying to read the sheet music at the grand piano- but this just makes me think he's a slow reader and has dyslexia ───✦ I think he's super flirty but also is oblivious ───✦ Adhd all the way ───✦ Super messy handwriting because his mind moves faster than his hands, so it's just the messiest half-cursive scrawl ───✦ Looks like a grinning felon on his license and has since he got his learner's at like 15. He just keeps looking more like "yeah I committed that crime and I'll do it again" every time he goes in for a renewal ───✦ Really loves cars and armoured vehicles in the same way Leon loves motorcycles ───✦ Hates Leon's drinking habit while Leon hates Chris' smoking habit ───✦ They come together eventually to help the other stop their addictions and it mostly involves lots of snuggles and pancakes ───✦ Really loves that Ethan is Canadian because Ethan can and will special order authentic maple syrup solely so Chris is happy and he loves authentic syrup so much he can damn near drink it straight from the bottle

Krauser

───✦ He/They or He/Him ───✦ Bisexual ───✦ German-american (as a German-american myself, it makes sense based on his name and his need to do busy work (his off-days merc work) just to feel like he's doing something worthwhile. In German culture, being able-bodied and able to work is a super big societal standpoint that is thankfully changing some) ───✦ He's actually an incredibly anxious individual. He finds the cut-and-dry rules, schedules, and regulations of the army and the relative-freedoms of his mercenary work are good for him regulating himself ───✦ He really likes Leon. Thinks he's a good kid (even though they're so close in age) and wishes him well in life. ───✦ Loves snakes. So much. It's on his blade and he hated killing that snake to protect Leon during the Darkside Chronicles cutscene, but Leon mattered more ───✦ Part of the reason he's such an ass and so cold is because he doesn't like many people and has difficulty interacting outside of yelling at them to train them or smart-mouthing people who deem themselves his 'superior' ───✦ Actually really doesn't like the government for a lot of reasons ───✦ Had a second blade custom-made for Leon so they could match ───✦ Really likes cuddles and is a human heater

Merchant

───✦ He/They/It (sometimes refers to himself as 'we', sort of in the local-english dialect kinda of way, as in a singular 'we' but I also have a theory regarding the blue/purple flamed lamp you always see with him, but that's a whole can of worms) ───✦ Pansexual, panromantic ───✦ Nonbinary. Can be amab or trans afab, but prefers being deemed more masculine ───✦ British-english; just likes to travel the world ───✦ Older than he lets on and joins the Duke for dinner a few times a year. They bond over shared experiences and intriguing customers ───✦ Long dark brown/straight hair, tied into a ponytail down the base of his head. ───✦ I think he's either really scrawny or he's fluffier and stockier under his coat than he appears ───✦ He has facial scars, mostly consisting of a few slashes from knives or similar and a scar that curls across the left side of his face ───✦ This particular scar ruined part of his lips and shows some of his teeth even when his mouth is shut, which is one of many reasons he wears his mask. Can't go around scaring his customers, can he? Bad for business! ───✦ His eyes ARE blue, but in fact glow under low-light conditions and glow when he's under intense emotions (ex. stress, anger, extreme happiness, etc) ───✦ They flash this sort of red-orange similar to Wesker's eyes when he's irritated too or when he gets impatient, but it's easy to miss ───✦ He also has a weirdly long split tongue and the further up it you go, you start to see these soft little barb-like features. They curl and stretch whenever your fingers brush over a particularly flavour-sensitive spot or press too hard ───✦ Really good at cooking ───✦ Has a special interest in weaponry of all kinds and enjoys working with his hands ───✦ Incredibly fond of Leon and makes sure he's well taken care of whenever he gets the chance ───✦ Autistic

Ethan

───✦ He/They ───✦ Cisn't (amab or afab, but I lean toward amab) ───✦ Canadian/american ───✦ The shadow thing on his face is actually caused by his 'death' in Louisiana. He's not sure why it happens and can kinda turn it off, but it follows his face regardless of light conditions. In darker/fully dark environments, all you have a chance of seeing is the glint or even sometimes glow of his eyes. You only see the ring of colour of his eyes during these moments. ───✦can and will scare people with what remains of the megamycete- ie making himself look a little too cryptid-like ───✦ Similarly to the Lords (primarily Salvatore Moreau) he has these tentacle-like appendages that can sprout from his back that he uses to freak people out. The Lords still aren't so used to it ───✦ Has adhd and autism ───✦ IT tech genius, computers are his special interest ───✦ He is a sarcastic ass when he wants to be and gets even more feral and angry now thanks to the megamycete ───✦ He is super tired and has insomnia issues half-thanks to Louisiana and the Village and half-thanks to his natural insomnia problems (mood my guy) ───✦ Like smart-assing Heisenberg frequently, but also enjoys having long philosophical or tech-related convos with him ───✦ Surprisingly close to Chris and later Leon ───✦ Finds the Merchant hilarious

Leon

───✦ He/him or he/they. I sometimes write him a cis amab sometimes trans. Often trans. Nonbinary?? Idk, but I like him being a gnc type guy. ───✦ Bi or pan, but demiromantic and demisexual too ───✦ Struggles with his own touch-starvation and even now, loud noises scare him a lot when he's not on the job. He's always worried about another unprepared breakout like the events of RE2 ───✦ Romanian/american (a thought I've had since RE4 2005 back when I played the game in like,,, 2014. I find it funny now that his remake model is Romanian from what I understand lol) ───✦ Still has remnants of Las Plagas running through him, but his blood kinda neutralized it to make a 'perfect monster'-type effect. ───✦ As a result of this, he can essentially 'shift' his body in weird ways and create the equivalent of the arms on the Los Iluminados insignia (yanno, with the four arms kinda like a mantis or facehugger has? yeah, that) ───✦ He doesn't like that it happens but he finds the older he gets, the more used to it he becomes and the more he uses them in sticky situations ───✦ Adhd and autism; really oblivious to social cues which is part of why he jumps into everything headfirst and why he doesn't flirt well. But he tries ───✦ Very soft and can sleep through a nuclear explosion

[matchbet-revolved]

Reblogging to the writing sideblog ❤️

A Need Fulfilled (By Warmth of A Demon's Heart)

Vergil x GNC chronic pain!sick!Reader

Word count: 967 A/N: dude i am STILL sick and it's making my chronic pain flare up sm, and this shit sucks, so. expect some more comfort fics. i need soft boy vergil to cuddle me even through my mood swings and sickness. i need demon love, okay? Also, Vergil calls the reader "little one", "pretty one", and "my mate" because he's soft and we are all pretty/whatever word you prefer to him, god damnit

Please enjoy the soft demon man caring for you below!

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Another day, another 24 hours of pain welling up throughout my body. While I go about my day as well as I can despite my sickness, I try to distract myself from it all. I just hope I don't drop anything- it would bring immediate tears and frankly, I don't have it in me to cry.

As I finish up my breakfast- leftovers from last night's dinner with Dante and Nero, which they never seemed to mind if I took- I shift my weight gently between both my legs, trying to distribute it as evenly as possible. The achy, bruised feeling didn't leave my legs, but at least the shifting of my feet seemed to keep it from worsening. I hear the DMC's door open behind me. A flash of cold comes through, and I recognize the silence as Vergil's. I smile softly.

He sets down the Yamato, then goes about tidying up the main room around me, knowing I'd always clean the moment I was finished. I shift and turn to toss the styrofoam box in the trash; Vergil's eyes catch on the way I limp and subtly shift my weight. He knows I'm not trying to hide it- it's just years of habit coming to light on a skill that saves me from experiencing more pain. I turn back to him and wave silently, flashing a small grin. His brows furrow and he grabs the Yamato once again, before walking over to me and picking me up without warning.

A noise of complaint leaves my throat, right before he dips my head into his warm chest and he walks up the stairs. He opens the door to his room, which is shockingly huge compared to my own, and he lays me gently on the blanket-filled bed. Once more, he sets down the Yamato, before immediately shrugging off his coat and laying it over me.

"Vergil, hey, what's going on?" I ask, confused by the entire situation. He grunts out a little noise.

"Is this not satisfactory? I thought surely a warm room and many soft blankets would ease your discomfort some." He replies, moving to make a small fire in the fireplace. He has a fireplace? How fancy. As he lights a small flame, the crackling noise begins and my shoulders slump in relaxation.

He takes off his gloves and moves to take off his boots, before he throws off his blue vest, replacing it with a big shirt from his closet. I laugh lightly, his cold blue eyes snapping to mine. He sits at the edge of his own bed and holds my hands in his own. "Is it? Satisfactory, that is? I-" He continues, before I cut him off with a small press of my hand to his lips. His brows furrow further.

"Vergil, my chronic pain is just flaring up because I'm sick. My legs and joints and ribs ache, that's all. But it is lovely in here and I appreciate the warmth. It's helping a lot, actually." I say honestly. He moves my hands back into his, his thumbs rubbing circles into my aching wrists. I sigh at the warm touch. He nods slowly, before climbing into bed with me and snuggling me into his chest. Without his thick vest and jacket, his heat seeps into me even faster and I let out a happy noise of comfort, which Vergil sighs in relief at.

"I could tell you were in pain, but I..." He stops briefly, then continues. "Dante and Nero told me you've been sick for the past week or so, but they didn't tell me you were in pain. I'm sorry I couldn't have come back sooner to care for you. I wanted to, but I hope I can make up for it now." He finishes, running a hand through his hair. I nuzzle into his chest and he brings his hand to my nose, rubbing up and down it soothingly.

My eyes lid as I let the day's unwanted exhaustion come over me in waves. He gives a satisfied sound and smiles at seeing me comfortable- safe and right where his mate should be, he thinks- in his arms.

The room is warm and he curls my further into him, before he too curls back into me, tucking my head under his chin. "I've got you, little one. You're safe with me. And though I cannot stop your pain, I can help ease it. Once you've gotten rest, I'll send for Dante and Nero so they can pick up ingredients for stew and we'll make it together. How's that sound, pretty one?" He says, placing a kiss on my head as he breathes in the comforting smell of me.

I nod into him, letting out a muffled sound of comfort. He merely laughs and tucks us both in, leaning behind him slightly to turn off the lights. As I nuzzle closer, breathing him in and soaking up his warmth, I place a few small kisses on his throat. He hums under the touch. "Thank you, Vergil. You don't have to take care of me, but you do anyways. I love you so so much, Vergil." I say as I start to drift off. Had to tell him before I fell asleep, just as I always did. He smiles against my hair and leans down to kiss my head again.

"Of course, my mate. I will always care for you, just as you've always shown me care. I love you too, little one. Rest well." He replies softly, splaying his hand gently across my back as my shoulders slump.

He listens as I drift off and soon, he too falls asleep, content and warm and happily awaiting the moment we both awaken and get to love each other more.

[matchbet-revolved]

Reblogging to the writing sideblog ❤️

Finally Found Home

Dante x reader, slight platonic Vergil x reader

Word Count: 1013

A/N: a lot of feels about my relationship with the only parent i have rn and it was crippling, so i'd hoped by writing this, i could… idk, get some of it out. also unedited, but i think i did okay. please enjoy! and be comforted if it is needed by you. <3

Warnings: use of the word 'fuck' once, 'damn' once, descriptions of panic attacks, crying, and then being comforted by Dante (and briefly by Vergil) bc i have a mighty need to be cradled right about now. dante also calls reader 'baby', 'darling', and 'sweetheart' requests are open, as well :D

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The shatter of glass made my arms raise up above my head in shock. Bracing for what I knew, logically, wouldn't come, I sigh shakily. I will my arms down. I look down, only to see the shattered remnants of one of Vergil's favourite teacups. Hot tears kiss my eyelashes, before falling, crashing down like a wave. I, like the teacup, shatter.

I collapse, just barely missing the shards in front of me, the hot tea soaking into the material of my pants. I've bruised my knees- I can tell by the way they ache and the loudness of my *thunk* as I hit the floor. Gentle hands go to grab at me to comfort me, but I flinch. Stupid, stupid- I'm muttering, aren't I? A voice trails in, strong arms scooping me up, a nose being buried into my hair. I just keep crying. I don't even know who's picked me up. Was I in trouble? Am I in trouble...? I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-

"You're not in trouble, jesus, I promise. I'm worried about you, that's all. You damn near cracked the floor when you fell." Dante's voice curls through my hateful thoughts right as he opens the door to his room with his boot. He refuses to let me go. He sets me gently on his bed. "Okay, baby, what's wrong? I've never seen you like this before. Tell me what's up, sweetheart, I'm worried like hell." His voice is nearly frantic and his brows are furrowed where he sits in front of me, hands holding mine comfortingly. I didn't know I had said any of my thoughts out loud. I try to croak out a response despite the lump in my throat.

It comes out hoarse. "I'm so sorry I broke it, Vergil's gonna hate me, it was one of his favourite sets, I'm so terrible, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to-" My voice spills like a pouring cup and Dante hushes me, drawing himself up just far enough to lean down and rest his forehead to mine. Warm. Dante was always so warm. He frees one hand to rub at my cheeks, only to feel my now-empty hand grasp frantically at his.

His hand links back into mine, tightening his fingers around my smaller ones. "Okay, okay, it's okay. Darling, he's not upset, he's not gonna hate you. In fact, he's worried sick about you. I asked if he'd clean up the accident, and then he could check on you. He wants to make sure you're okay, he really isn't worried about a silly teacup, even if it was one of his favourite sets. He's not upset and I'm not either. And we're sure as fuck not gonna hit you, okay?" He kisses my forehead gently, then he walks away momentarily, going to his bathroom.

He calls out. "Hey, sweetheart, could you take off your jeans for me? I've gotta make sure your knees are okay." I nod, despite him being unable to see me, and shuffle out of my tea-soaked pants. I would put them in the hamper in the corner, but I can hardly move my legs properly. He walks out and smiles softly, before kneeling before me again. A warm, damp washcloth drags against the skin of my knees and Dante's eyes darken when he sees the already-bruised flesh.

He cleans me gently, before putting antibiotic ointment on my knees and putting large bandaids over both. I sniffle and rub at my tired eyes. He looks up at me and then moves to put the washcloth back in the bathroom and tosses me pants into his hamper. Dante walks to his closet before pulling out one of his big sweaters- a green one, knitted and warm- and he walks back to me, slipping the garment over me. He kneels far enough to place kisses on my bandaged knees.

I tear up again, Dante's soft hands coming to wipe them away. He kisses my nose and picks me back up, lays on the bed, and cradles me in his arms as he covers us both up. "I don't know what's wrong, but I do know you and I know you don't like talking about your family much. Or your childhood. And that's okay. I will NEVER do what they might've done to you and I can promise Verge won't either. Nero for damn sure won't. We all care about you too much. So for now, you try to get some sleep and if you want me to, I can wake you once Vergil comes up. Sound good, sweetheart?" He says, tucking me into him and curling his thick comforter around me. I nod into his chest. His hand comes up to gently pull the sleeves of his sweater over my knuckles.

He smiled softly, before pressing a few sweet, worried kisses on my head. "Alright, I'll do that then. Just promise me you'll try to get a bit of sleep, yeah?" He continues, before pausing. He speaks up again. "I love you, sweetheart. Don't forget that. Now sleep, okay? Nero should be on his way home with stuff for dinner. I love you. So, so, so much." As he finishes, he presses more and more kisses into my hair and I sigh softly as I melt into him and his warmth. He was always so good to me.

As I drift off, I hear the door open and hear a muted conversation and soft voices I knew so well. They only serve to help me drift off farther.

I hear a few bits of the exchange as my mind finally begins to fade off fully and I smile softly as I feel Vergil's weight next to me on the bed. I feel his hand running gingerly through my hair.

"Are they alright, Dante?"

"I don't know. But they're always gonna be safe with us. And thanks for cleaning it."

"No trouble at all, brother. And yes, we will always keep them safe. They are our home."

"Yes they are, brother mine."

[matchbet-revolved]

Reblogging to the writing sideblog ❤️

Hellooooo, i really enjoy your works and your requests were open so can i please request a reverse comfort where the reader comforts vergil after he had a nightmare

Sweet Dreams (Vergil Sparda x GN! Reader)

Word count: 1189

A/N: anon. your brain. it's massive. you didn't specify which game (which is perfectly okay!) so he can really be read as any version of Vergil throughout the series :D also thank you SO much for being my first request and i'm so glad you enjoy my works!! i really hope you enjoy!

warnings for vivid talks of nightmares (with comfort ofc), a little bit of blood, and some cussing here and there.

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Vergil has nightmares and you're there to keep him safe. You'd always keep him safe.

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A dull sound resounds through my dreams. I twitch. I shuffle my head out from where it lays under my pillows, like I always do to block the morning sun. I wait. Wake up some.

A scream.

Vergil.

Oh no. I jolt out of bed, nearly tripping over my sheets in the process and drag my sweatpants up my hips. I grab one of my knives and latch its holder belt across my waist.

I hear nothing but screams and inhuman cries and I pad along, rushing across the long U-shaped hall all the way to Vergil's room- on the exact other side from my own room.

I get to the door and try to open it, only to find it locked. I growl out in frustration and wedge my knife between the stained oak door frame and the door itself and shove. Hard. The door cracks open and I know I'll have to replace the frame later. Doesn't matter.

I bound into the room and stop just shy of Vergil's bed, ducking as his tail whips over my head.

As it whips again, his body half DTing in the height of his misery, I catch it in my hands and as it flicks and he claws through nightmares that are only in his head, I sit on his bed and drag his thrashing body into my lap.

"Vergil, wake up. C'mon, fuck, Vergil-" My words aren't working. His tail nearly slices its way out of my hand. I take a deep breath. Hold it.

"VERGIL!" I shout.

He bounces up in shock, almost knocking his head against mine. In his newly-awakened state, he claws his way to the edge of his bed, as far away from me as he can get and he scans the room for any dangers- and any of that which ailed him during the time of Nelo Angelo and Mundus.

His blue eyes are icy and cold but they're glowing a bright blue with his anger and fear. His brows are furrowed and he's bitten his lip so hard blood seeps into his nightshirt.

We're at a standstill and his breathing comes far heavier than mine. He's alert and afraid. I make the first move. Bad choice, but I do it anyways.

The point of his tail stops just short of piercing my jugular but his gaze softens the second I reach out both hands, palms up in a display of passivity. He allows one of my hands to move closer to his face and the second my hand is a hair's breadth away from his cheek, he grabs my wrist forcefully and smushes his face into my palm. His lip quivers and his eyes sharpen before they close and he lets out a sob. His tail drops.

I move closer and despite his size versus mine, I do my best to pull him back up to the headboard and as much into my lap as I can manage.

He's wracking with sobs and I know there's this narrow margin for which I can calm him while Nero and Dante are away on a mission. I know there's this minute, minuscule, fraction of a margin in which I can convince him he's safe.

I push his face into my shoulder and he cries out so loudly, so much more verbal than I'm used to, and my heart clenches horribly.

"Vergil, hey, I've got you. You're safe. You're at the DMC, you're safe with me, in Redgrave." I say as I stroke my fingers through his hair. His breathing is erratic but already, he's begun to calm. I'm lucky he didn't go for the Yamato in his cusp of fear when he first awoke.

He says nothing but I continue anyways.

"I've got you, it's okay. You're safe. Dante and Nero are kickin' demon butt for the week with Trish and Lady and Nico. And soon, Dante'll be back with enough pizza to feed a small army and he'll piss you off as the ladies laugh. And he'll throw a beer bottle at you- again- like he always does, and you'll try to stab him with the Yamato like always and Nero'll call you two dumbasses." I finish.

I'm breathless by the time I'm done but my words have more than done the job. My presence helps tremendously too. Vergil's breathing has evolved into hiccups and sniffles in my now tear-soaked tanktop. I don't mind so much. I make a mental note to tell Dante to let Vergil kick his ass when he gets back.

My hands keep curling through the thick pale strands of Vergil's hair. I move my other hand to his bedside table and grab the glass of water he keeps there and carefully open his drawer to get one of the cloths kept within. I pour the water carefully onto the cloth and begin dabbing gently at Vergil's blotchy cheeks to clean up the drying tears.

He hates that I'm looking and tries to hide his face from me. He doesn't want to seem weak. He doesn't want me to hate him. I couldn't even if I tried to.

I continue cleaning his face and I look him over, checking for any wounds. He has a few small swollen marks from his dulled nails and the new cut in his lip from his teeth, but aside from that and the damage to his throat and mind, he seems no worse for wear. I sigh in relief.

I lean down and press a soothing kiss against his forehead as I move his hair back from his face. I wipe at the blood on his lips. Good as new. The cut should heal come sunrise. I look to the window briefly. Probably past 3.

"I've got you, darling, I've got you. I need you to sit up a bit for me, okay?" I ask, setting the washcloth on his bedside table.

Vergil nods slowly and I let him take his time in shuffling himself upright into a comfier position. When he has, I bring the glass of water to his lips and hold it as he drinks graciously. He hums a bit more clearly now, though his throat is still torn from his screams.

I don't ask and he doesn't say anything, other than-

"Thank you." Vergil says softly. He leans toward me as I move the glass to set it back down safely. It's his turn to kiss at my forehead and I smile up at him.

I let him lay back down under the covers and his fingers play with his amulet thoughtlessly. A comfort him and his twin shared in rare moments.

As I snuggle next to him, he pushes himself into me as much as he can comfortably and I simply hold him as he needs me to as he drifts to sleep.

Right before he goes, into a far safer and much more guarded dreamland, he murmurs into my skin, "I love you."

I smile again and kiss his hair fondly. My fingers rub soothing figure eights into his back softly.

"I love you too, Vergil. Sweet dreams."

[matchbet-revolved]

Reblogging to the writing sideblog ❤️

Promises, Promises

Nero/Dante/Vergil x GN!reader (can be read as platonic or romantic between nero/reader, dante/reader, or vergil/reader. whatever you prefer, just meant to be comforting i guess)

Word count: 1020

A/N: just wrote this, idrk what to say. reader claws at themself in their sleep even though they're lucid enough to know they're dreaming. they don't realize they're in actual real-world physical pain until they wake up, but frankly, the pain doesn't bother them. it's kinda about the boys being concerned because the reader doesn't seem to notice/care about their wounds past "fuck, that's gonna be a bitch to heal" and "damnit now i need new sheets. did i stain my mattress????" and it's also about a promise being made to protect each other bc the amulets they wear gave my brain ThoughtsTM

also demon boy cuddles and napping bc it's a need, not just a want

here's your warning for: blood, nightmares, reader tears themself up in their sleep bc nightmares, but they also don't feel much care about that in particular past "oh no i stressed my boys out oof"

reader is okay and vergil and nero cry. dante nearly does.

long A/N, so sorry, but i needed to kinda show my thought process after not sleeping for 24 hours lol

please enjoy!

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It cycles through me like a storm, leaving me gasping for air. I jolt and can't manage to pry myself from the images in my own head.

Woefully overwhelming.

Equally underwhelming and boring as hell.

Shame I couldn't seem to care past my exhaustion. Even still, my body seemed to do the job of 'scared human' pretty well without my internal fears interfering.

Now if I waited just a moment longer, it should-

I cry out (against my brain's irritation and advice against doing precisely that-) and my eyes meet Dante's worried ones immediately. He's cradling my face and I see Nero nearly run in, arms full of medical supplies of all kinds. My arms feel warm- liquid warm. I groan in frustration, shutting my eyes.

They open again as I hear Nero openly crying through his concern and Vergil comes crashing like a hurricane into the room. His eyes are cold as always, but it's a new type of cold.

My throat is hoarse. I woke them up. I try to lift myself up on my arms before- ugh, fuck it. I slam myself back down and groan again.

Time for new fuckin' sheets. Again.

As Dante cradles me close, Vergil sets down a plastic tub filled with warm water, probably to clean the blood off of where I apparently tore myself open in my sleep. Had I been thrashing that badly? The dream was bad, but it wasn't anywhere near what the real nightmares were when I was a kid, so why…?

Nero wipes away his tears and gets to work wetting one of the many cloths he brought in the room; he soothes it over the flesh of my shoulder.

I look down groggily. Still not awake yet, it seems. Not fully, anyways.

It appears I've mostly gotten my shoulders, arms, and sides- the meatier parts of myself. Not sure if I did it because they were easier to grab onto or because there's more there to damage. Either way, the cloth feels nice and I slump relatively comfortably into Dante's warm arms and Nero's gentle hands.

I try to speak but really, no words come out. I taste blood. They can't smell the blood in my mouth versus the blood soaking into my sheets. My fingers curl into the blanket underneath me. Nero had gotten-

Oh fuck.

Now I start to panic, truly, in full, because Nero had gotten my this blanket and it was my favourite and if I ruined it with my blood, I swear to god-

"Darling, shit, breathe, okay? I know…" Dante sighs, his blue eyes watering and glossy, before continuing, his hands curling against my tensed ones, "…I know you don't really process your nightmares or physical pain the way normal people do, so I know that isn't the problem. Talk to me, what's up?" His voice is comforting, though extremely pressed for an answer.

I clear my throat, once, twice. Swallow down my blood. Don't care much about that part.

"…I got blood on the blanket Nero gave me."

The room goes dead silent. Vergil storms over and drops down to the floor next to my bed with bruising force and I'm not shocked when I hear the floorboards crack underneath the weight of his fall.

My hand reaches to thread through his silver hair and I am shocked when he lets out a sob. He whines into my hands and Nero finally finishes cleaning off all my blood. As his twin lay dormant and sob-choked, Dante starts to bandage my body. The damage wasn't good by any means, but it could've been much worse.

I rake my fingers further through Vergil's hair in apology. He accepts it graciously; didn't blame me to begin with. I know this, but silently apologize nonetheless.

As Dante finishes wrapping my arms, Nero lifts me up (which much protest from his father) and drags the blanket from under me. I'm set back down as Dante lays on the bed and Nero goes downstairs to throw the blanket in the wash before my blood stains it. Luckily it seems to have caught all of my blood, so no new sheets. Just a guilty conscience and burning shoulders for me.

Dante pulls me into his chest, purposefully warming himself as best he could without DTing to soothe my wounds and I snuggle into his body heat. Vergil lays beside us both and nuzzles his face and body closer to our warmth as we comfort one another.

Soon, Nero walks back in as Vergil's tears slow and he too lays in bed, curled into the opposite side of Dante.

Together we all snuggle as Dante turns on a movie. None of us pay attention, of course. Can't seem to make ourselves and we don't really care, either. I half think idly that even Dante isn't sure what movie he put on.

Nero's wings pull a thick comforter over us and we're enveloped in each other's scents as we start to drift off.

We all hold each other.

A promise.

A promise to never leave, to always be there for one another, to take care of one another.

A reminder that there will never be anyone who could hurt any of the others in the room without coming face-to-face with some of the scariest, most vicious motherfuckers on the planet and dying by their hands.

A reminder that us Spardas stick together- even the ones rallied in not by water of the womb but blood of the covenant- and that no nightmares would be allowed without some ass-kicking in this place.

That was our promise.

My fingers reach up to curl protectively over my amulet, at match to Dante's and Vergil's and Nero's- swirling with gold and silver, blue and red. Three initials written delicately into its metal- DVN.

Dante. Vergil. Nero.

It was our promise and they'd never break it so long as they all lived.

I smile and hum contentedly as the three men drape their arms softly over me.

No nightmares could ever reach us- not as long as we were in each other's arms.

[matchbet-revolved]

Reblogging to the writing sideblog ❤️

Touch (Nero X GN!Reader)

Word count: 566

A/N: short n soft n sweet nero morning fic! casual nudity bc a body is a body and is only sexual if you make it so!! i need more casual nudity and careful touch, please :')

anyways, he calls the reader bunny and baby and reader calls him pretty boy 'cuz he is and he deserves to know

please enjoy!!

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His fingers were more delicate than I was used to. He was always gentle with me, even though he knew I wouldn't break.

I sigh softly as Nero's fingers fun lightly over my shoulder blades. I turn over and crack my eyes open slowly, my lashes fluttering just a little.

The curtains are open- as is the ornate window, letting in the warm summer heat- but the skies are overcast and a little dark. I smell rain. I breathe deeply and Nero chuckles.

He walks away and just as my eyes shut again, I make a noise of complaint in my throat at his touch leaving me.

It's quickly doused out, however as he walks in with breakfast for us both.

I sit up and the blanket slips down. Despite this, Nero says nothing, merely opting to ruffle my hair and set down the food on the bedside table before putting a record in the player. 'Maybe' by the Inkspots plays quietly and I smile.

I sit against the headboard and take the mug of coffee- more liquid sugar and milk than coffee- and sip it slowly. Nero sits at the edge of our bed, stretching his back and popping his shoulders. He grins groggily as I start tearing appreciatively through the eggs and bacon. Nero moves toward me and reaches over the table to move the plate onto my lap so he can pour some syrup on my fluffy pancakes. I hum and give him a kiss on the cheek.

Our chests brush together and I shiver pleasantly at the warmth of his skin.

He sets down the syrup, moving to take a big sip of his own orange juice and scarfs down his own breakfast.

I can see by the dew on my plants on the windowsill that Nero watered them for me- oh, he was too good to me. Nero was always so very good to me.

As we mutually tear through our plates and the Inkspots record keeps a'playin', we shuffle closer and closer, knees touching. No words are needed, no conversation made. Mutual skin-on-skin contact and comfort during a dewy, warm day is all we want at the minute.

I noisily slurp up the rest of my pancakes and down the rest of my coffee right as Nero's ghostly wings reach to brush their claws over my cheeks, before squishing my face fondly. Nero looks up at the sound of my laughter with his bright, curious eyes and he smiles at me.

My giggles continue even as Nero moves our plates and he pulls me up to settle me into his warm lap. He kisses me softly- he tastes like syrup and bacon and orange juice. I laugh fondly into his lips and he hugs me close. We press together more deeply and I find there's no place I'd rather be. Hmm, I've forgotten something, though…

Oh, right! He made us breakfast and let me sleep in some… had to tell him-

"Thank you, pretty boy." I say, murmuring into his neck where he has me tucked under his chin comfortably.

"'Course, baby, gotta keep my little bunny fed, yeah? Love you." I can feel him grin above me. I drag down one of his free hands to place a kiss against it and link our fingers comfortably.

"Mm, love you too, Nero." I reply.

Yeah, no place I'd rather be.

[matchbet-revolved]

Reblogging to the writing sideblog ❤️

(MDNI banner made by me lol)

Nightwolf is on the mind and the (very rarely let out) writer in me needed to give him a little love sjfjfk he's so beloved, so have a little... Idea, I guess? Drabble? Idk, a little smut thing for him, haha!

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Just sitting in a soft nest of thick furs, blankets, pillows in front of a hearth, the fire warm in the fireplace, and Nightwolf dragging you into his lap.

The mind is so caught on riding Nightwolf...

He presses his forehead to yours and you just get to sit together, kissing and nuzzling noses as he guides you up and down, again and again and again until you're falling apart. He doesn't make you beg, but he's gentle enough you just might anyway.

He grins, wanting nothing more than you watch you crumble in his warm, broad palms, his pretty brown eyes following each jolt, every part of your lips, every single movement.

And he'll keep his hands where he wants them the whole time, steadying you- one in your back, keeping you pressed to him, and the other gripped around a hip to keep yanking you back down onto him as he fucks up into you with languid, lazy, slow, but deep, achingly blissful movements.

He'll keep you there for as long as he can, just to feel you in full, to messy himself and you much as he is able.

[matchbet-revolved]

Currently reblogging fics, drabbles, and any of my writings here on a proper writing sideblog ❤️

Little drabble with thoughts of MK11 Kung Lao smacking some ass because he's always in my head and god damn, he's got thick fingers.

GN reader! ✨

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Kung Lao, settling you across his knees, your hands helping brace you against his thick, strong thighs right as he's cracking a palm against your ass.

He's got big hands; he's never been a particularly small man.

Doesn't matter if you're shorter, or taller. He'll still give cocky, snarky little comments, but the tone of affection is never lost in his teases.

"Sweetheart... Can you take a few more for me?"

"Doing so well, aren't you?"

He's always got a hand seeking your ass, and perhaps you should've known he'd pull you over his knees one of these days.

Doesn't mean you expected him to swat at your ass until it stings, the sensation barely on the brink of just a little too much.

But it's good, endlessly so, and you struggle not to wiggle your hips back against him with each little hit he awards you.

If you can count for him and keep your numbers in order past the bite of pain mixing with all those moments he smacks just a little lower, he'll reward you with praises and him tenderly soothing his palm across your flesh, before being a bit mean again and smacking your flesh just to see it ripple once more.

He'll never get sick of his hands on you- and he's got an idea you'll never complain.