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bloodcasket · 1 year

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FOR YOU, I SHALL DESTROY MYSELF

PAIRING: Obsessive!Vergil Sparda x GN!Reader

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

WC: 7,481

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

11:35 PM ; DECEMBER 31st ─ THE DEAL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another stumble. You sniffle.

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

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

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

There is a sound of hissing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do not last; you had expected this much.

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

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

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

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

Who am I, anyway?

You blink, the demon draws closer.

I shall die here, won't I?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hadn't even learned his name.

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

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

To be a troubled man is one thing.

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

To be a demon is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I shall........

I am........

Devoted.....

I am yours.....

take me......

my soul......

is yours”.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your voice. Your blood. Your soul.

He hadn't even learned your name.

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

9:30 PM ; MARCH 31ST ─ A REUNION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The deal, let’s do it”.

You have learned his name.

You have learned how powerful promises can be.

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

MONTH OF JANUARY ─ A STALKING PRESENCE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need him.

You need him

You...need him?

5:00 PM ; APRIL 10TH ─ THE CLAIMING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My soul, is yours”.

He finishes, staking his claim.

MONTHS LATER ─ FINAL CONFESSION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That night Vergil, when we first met”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because for you, I shall destroy myself”.

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

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cupidscrule · 3 months

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Them <33

#cupidscruel🍡#dante dmc #dmc5 dante #dmc dante #dante devil may cry #dante sparda #dante dmc3 #devil may cry 3 #dmc3 dante #dante x you #dmc3 vergil #vergil dmc #devil may cry vergil #vergil devil may cry #dmc vergil #dmc #devil may cry #sillies

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jellys-compendium · 3 months

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Tying the Knot

A Vergil x f!Reader Oneshot

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Summary: To many, Vergil's demonic form is frightening. But to you, it's just as adorable and endearing as the man that lies beneath. Cw: smut, fluff, tender sex, monster sex, knotting, cockwarming, stuffing, teasing, Vergil is touch starved but he will never admit it, Reader is mute, non-traditional 'marriage' proposal Word Count: 1'684 A/n: The saga of fluffy writing for Vergil continues.

The content purr thrumming in Vergil’s chest is so soothing. It’s deep and blissful, lulling your own body to relax and melt into the heat of his own.

Your hands gently caress over Vergil’s body, your soft pliant flesh tracing the jagged and unyielding plates that lie beneath. Vergil’s appearance in this form is formidable, even frightening. But the tender way in which he cradles you in his claws has you softly cooing his praises and pampering his chin and teeth with soft, little pink lipped kisses.

Each and every single one of Vergil’s movements is careful. They are calculated and precisely timed. The hide of his devilish body is strong and sharp in most places, and he knows that with one wrong move he can slice open your fragile flesh with ease.

So, Vergil tempers the wanting. You can feel the itching burn of his hunger twitch beneath the muscles on his body. The passion and desire that swirls and swims through his veins is like an expertly crafted wine—potent and powerful. But Vergil’s will proves to be the victor. He won’t risk harming you in a fleeting moment of carnal lust.

Still, that doesn’t mean that you’re impervious to impatience.

Gently wiggling your body beneath his, your pussy clenches, and you silently groan, drawing in breath as the engorged and throbbing knot inside you presses harder against your g-spot.

Vergil tenses, a warning little growl catches in his exhaled breath as his grip on your hips tightens.

“Be still.” His words are strained, but his tone is soft and gentle even with its demonic trill.

You smile, a wordless “sorry” in your eyes as your lips press into a thin line. The giggle you try to suppress writhes in your chest, and Vergil feels it. If he could frown in this form, you imagine that he would.

“You’re laughing.” He accuses.

Being cradled by the pillow, you shake your head as best you can. But the voiceless dance of air that tumbles past your smiling lips betrays you.

‘Sorry.’ You sign. ‘Just a little impatient for the next round.’

Vergil sighs, and you hear shifting along the sheets. A gentle pressure circles around your waist, and you look down to see that the culprit is Vergil’s tail.

“Insatiable little succubus, aren’t you?”

You smile, pressing another little kiss to where you imagine his nose might be if he were in his human form.

‘Look who’s talking. It better not be the demon who’s locked his cock inside me for the third time tonight.’

Vergil snorts, rolling his glowing blue eyes at your response. You reach up to spoil him with more kisses all while running your hands over his wings, his back, his horns. Vergil’s hypnotic purring gets louder with each part of him you worship.

He really does love to be touched. By you, specifically. Every time your fingers seek him out, he’s always leaning his body towards yours. If the two of you are in the company of others it’s quite subtle, but the moment it's just you and him behind closed doors, it becomes so adorably obvious.

Like a cat, Vergil basks in the softness of your touch, arching against your fingers while pulling you deeper into his embrace. And while Vergil still does retain his stiff and standoffish demeanor most of the time (even with you), it’s tender little moments like this where you can peer behind the curtain and bask in the gentle warmth of his tender heart. He really is a big sensitive softy. With the soul of a poet to boot.

“Have you had your fun?” Vergil’s mouth opens and his long blue tongue slides out from between his sharp fangs to tenderly lap at your cheek.

Exhaling wistfully your own satisfaction, you nod.

‘I have. But I won’t object to one more round.’

Vergil’s amused chuckle fills the air as your brows wiggle. Your teasing fingers make their way down to the place where the two of you are connected. As you touch him, the comforting purr in Vergil’s chest intensifies—the vibrations traveling all the way down to where he has you knotted.

Your jaw slacks as a spark of pleasure ignites a new fire in your core. With hips arching further up to grind yourself against him, you bite your lip before pulling your hand back to massage your neglected clit.

Vergil growls, eyes fixating on where your fingers toy.

Then abruptly, the half-demon ends your play. With a heavy groan Vergil takes both your hands into his own, entwining your fingers as he brings them to his mouth, licking the remnants of both of your fluids from your digits.

His sigh of rapture sends another pang of heat flowing through you. And when Vergil looks at you, the demonic glow of his eyes holds within them all the tenderness in the world.

“You are so precious to me.”

Vergil’s words are so soft—whisper quiet—like they are a secret to the very air itself. But to you they may as well have been screamed in your ear. Your eyes widen and your heart nearly stops in your chest as Vergil looks down at you. There is the slightest tremor to his breaths now.

Then his hands release yours and using the words you had taught him, he clumsily signs.

‘Stay here with me.’

Then, he points to his heart.

You’re dumbfounded, staring at the half-demon above you with utter awe as your heart and mind tries to process what you had just seen. Vergil stares silently back at you, patient as he allows you to ponder your response. He never rushes you. He is never demanding of the beautiful words you craft into the air.

But you find yourself rushing at this moment. Rushing to tell him exactly how you feel. Neither you nor Vergil had been very good at communicating your feelings in life, but now —in this private little moment—it feels totally effortless.

Happy little tears spring in your eyes, and you smile, reaching up to wipe them away with one hand as you sign with the other.

‘Always.’

And Vergil purrs happily, leaning down to take you in his arms. You wrap him in your embrace too, pressing kisses to his face. But your pampering is cut short, as Vergil takes hold of your waist and shifts his hips away, slowly pulling and popping his knot out of you.

A pathetic little whine escapes your throat as Vergil pulls out. Losing the feeling of his hot cock throbbing inside you makes you feel so lonely and empty.

“Shhh,” Vergil hushes, clawed fingers moving down to capture and cup your ass. You gasp as Vergil hoists you up, placing you prettily upright and in the crux of his lap, dangling you just above the glistening cock still covered in your arousal and his cum.

Gosh, he’s still so hard and throbbing like he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes nestled deep inside you.

Lowering you down gently, the head of Vergil’s cock presses against your swollen folds, then strokes from your clit to your entrance.

Your hands land upon his shoulders, steadying yourself as you sigh and peg him with a pleading look.

‘Please. Don’t tease me.’ You mouth.

Vergil nods, nestling his cockhead at your twitching entrance. He pauses for a heartbeat, then two, before he slowly slides you all the way down to his knot.

You gasp in pleasure as you’re filled anew, pressing your lips to his teeth as you melt into his arms. Vergil hums, snaking that long demonic tongue into your awaiting mouth with rapture—the only way the two of you can kiss while he is in this form.

You suck on his tongue, relishing in his taste and how he trembles as you clench your pussy around his cock. Coaxing him and milking him, grinding against him as you beg him with each sensual movement of your body.

And Vergil is more than eager to oblige.

The thrusting starts slow as Vergil eases himself in and out of your sopping pussy. There’s not an ounce of hurry in his movements. Instead, he frees his tongue from your mouth and moans—the demonic trill he releases sending shivers all along your skin as he savors every fleshy inch of your insides with his cock.

“So sweet,” Vergil softly pants. “No matter how many times…”

You want to tell him that you feel the same way, but your hands are currently busy gripping for dear life against his armored shoulders. So instead, you press a tender little kiss to his forehead, and Vergil understands.

The two of you writhe and thrust and pant, clutching one another with loving and desperate hands as Vergil pounds into your cunt. The wet slap of your skin against his and the desperate little breathless sounds from both of your mouths send the two of you into a frenzy. Rutting against the other as you both seek that blissful release.

It’s not long before you’re coming on Vergil’s cock, and he groans with pleasure, stilling as your pussy pulses and grips his monstrous girth like a vice.

“Let me knot you,” Vergil gasps, voice strained as he fights off his own climax.

“Please.”

You nod desperately, tears of pleasure staining your lashes as you work yourself down on his knot, trying to take it yourself but knowing that you’ll need his help to do so.

And with one forceful push, Vergil stuffs his knot inside you, tearing a voiceless cry from your throat as you wrap your arms around his neck—both of your bodies quivering as Vergil fills you to the brim and then some.

Vergil moans softly as he succumbs to his own pleasure, holding you tight as he pumps you full of his cum. He wishes that he could stay right here, inside you and on this bed forever. But Vergil has lived long enough to know that such moments are fleeting, and to savour every second while he can.

He’ll treasure you—his little muse—until the day that he dies.

divider source

#dmc #dmc 5 #devil may cry #vergil #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #vergil x you #vergil smut #jellywrites

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pitasmare · 17 days

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learning that at one point in time during concept art they entertained the idea of v being a woman drives me fucking insane! i've lost sleep over this!!! it was such a good idea!

vergil picturing his human side as a woman because he can't de-entangle his humanity from eva. the resulting simultaneous rejection of both his mother and his humanity after the fire, and all the love and frailness that came with it (ignoring the strength found in it as well)!!!!!!! the continuation of a perceived abandonment cycle with nero! the guilt! the shame!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#dmc #dmc vergil #it would have been great for everyone’s mommy issues. and by that i mean it would have been the emotional equivalent #of what that hell tree did to capulet city #AAAAA #i think eva/vergil parallels are hotter than sparda/vergil parallels. let the twins parallel the parent they have the most issues with.#its sexier. trust. and i mean. they already do it with the whole aight. you have to come to terms with your x side #inherited from your x parent. BUT i firmly believe they should have leaned further in with vergil

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icedlava1 · 10 months

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I like thinking of random ways Vergil and Nero’s mom got together. this is one of them Lmaoo

#Vergil #vergil dmc #vergil sparda #nero’s mother #vergil x nero’s mother #devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry fanart #digital art #comic #vergil is finally getting the support and validation he needs #i headcanon nero’s mother as a sweetheart #also vergil is autistic coded if you couldn’t tell #my art #jay art

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devilmayfamily · 1 year

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Can I request a shy S/O who has a crush on Vergil/Dante/V and they draw the boys secretly in their sketchbook with little notes like "saw him in those dark blue jeans again he's so beautiful" or "how do I tell him I love him?" etc. The boys stumble upon this and they're so flattered they blush to their chest.

Why is this literally me lol. Hope you enjoy!

Dante

Your sketchbook was filled with sketches of him mostly during training since it was the only time his focus couldn't ver towards you at any given moment

You've indirectly gotten better at drawing action poses and the male torso because of this and the fact that this man goes full Grey Fullbuster and takes off his shirt to train

The other time you're able to draw him is when he's asleep, a magazine covering his face

One particular position you found him laying in had you write a note of "Idk how he's sleeping like this" next to the sketch of it.

Dante has noticed you with this sketchbook and hadn't thought anything of it until he realized he never sees you drawing him in it

His curiosity got the better of him one day and decides to take a look while you left it unattended.

The first few pages were as he expected, sketches of Shadow when she was around, the girls of the team, and even some of the orphanage kids playing from when you would visit Nero and Kyrie

Towards the middle of the book, he found all the sketches of him you'd been hiding

He looks over every single one and reads all the little notes you've left behind

He finds the whole idea of you sketching him cute and endearing

Seeing a particular sketch of him asleep, face facing you, with the note "He looks like he gives nice cuddles" has his face a flame, red tracing all the way down his neck

You drew this scared up man so soft, it was like he was looking at someone else

Vergil

You find going unnoticed by Vergil to be easy

He's always either reading or beating up Dante when not on missions

Vergil finds your sketchbook when he mistakes it for his collection of poems on a particularly sleepy morning

Opening it, he's taken back by all the drawings

It's obvious you have some skill

As he turns the page, he finds an entire spread dedicated to him reading

At the very bottom of the page it reads "he's always reading this thing, i wonder what secrets it holds"

Vergil softly smiles, a faint heat resting across his cheeks wondering if he could share a piece of himself with someone again

He was ready, wasn't he?

Flipping the page he finds a spread dedicated to him cooking, fighting, even simply being dressed up in a suit

"I'll admit, he's sexy in a suit"

Vergil's face sets a flame, the man shutting the sketchbook and replacing it finally with his poems

You become curious by the new sets of suits in the coming days but never complain

Griffon stole the sketchbook when you left it unattended

He scolds the bird for digging in your private processions but with a little coaxing from Griffon he looks inside

He's not surprised to see sketches of Shadow and Griffon, the bird boasting about how good he looked

As he turns the page, Griffon teases him for the bright pink blush that spreads across his face upon seeing sketches of himself

"My beautiful muse" is written in a beautiful cursive next to a sketch of V smiling

He flips the page expecting to find something different but it's more drawings of him

"May he ever know how he sets my heart a burning"

V can't help but adore you right then

He smiles, closing the sketchbook as you approach

He looks up to you, his smile causing one to spread across your own face

Griffon makes some comment about leaving you two to it before disappearing

#dmc #dmc5 #devil may cry 5 #dante dmc5 #dmc vergil #dante sparda #devil may cry #v #dmc v #dmc5 v #vitale #dante x reader #vergil x reader #dmc v x reader #vitale x you

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ollieolliewrld · 3 months

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DMC Men in Relationships (SFW)

Dante ☆A playful lover ☆He’s cocky and wants someone who can keep up with him ☆Adventurous dates are big with him always switching between showing off and making sure nothing ever happens to you ☆Very classic will carry you over puddles kind of guy ☆You’ll tease him when he falls into stereotypes ☆He’ll play it off like nothing happened ☆Dante is a player who has finally found the one he’s going to do everything he can to keep you there ☆Rainy days are special that’s when he gets to take a day to stay in with you cuddled up on the couch ☆You two spend those days watching movies and being close ☆He feels like all of his struggles in life are worth it now that he has you

Vergil ☆Vergil cares about you deeply but doesn’t show it in an obvious way ☆He does not mess around and he wants to make sure things work so that you are both happy ☆Dates with Vergil are thought out ☆His love for you shines through with the carefully planned trip to a small bookshop that happens to be next to a tea shop ☆Not too big on pet names but will refer to you as his angel you make him feel safe like he can finally rest ☆Vergil has a lot of knowledge that he wants to share with you ☆You learn from him and he learns from you ☆He enjoys hearing your thoughts on the world ☆Absolutely fascinated with how you see things so differently from him ☆He wants to keep you by his side and never let you go

Nero ☆This man is new to the whole relationship game ☆While he’s unsure at times he makes up for that ☆Like his father, he loves to listen to you ☆Nero may not know everything but he can understand where you’re coming from and makes sure he’s there to support you ☆Dates with him are chill but cute ☆For one of your first dates, he takes you to a park where he’s done his best to surprise you with a picnic ☆He puts effort in but it’s not always perfect ☆Very easily flustered ☆Does not matter how long you’ve been together ☆Will blush when you catch him staring at you ☆You are his everything ☆Everything he does in his day is with you in mind ☆He keeps a small picture of you somewhere on him ☆Frequently has to replace it because of all the action ☆But it’s the thought that counts ☆Nero wants to show his love for you 24/7

Author's Note: Thank you for all of the support! I did not expect anyone to be as kind as you all have been BEFORE I even made a post! I hope you guys will enjoy this one and there are plenty more in the works. <3<3<3

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sparda-ly · 1 year

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Hello! Can I request some DMC fluff, please? Like Dante and Vergil got sick somehow (idk, must be demon flu) and reader now has to take care of them. Separately, of course. I'd imagine Vergil is the type to try to power through it and fail miserably, lmao. While Dante eats up allll the attention his S/O gives him. It's up to you though :) Thanks and have a great day!

SICK! DANTE, VERGIL WITH A S/O WHO TAKES CARE OF THEM

UNSPECIFIED GENDER OF READER!

note: hey there ;) first dmc request, hope it's ok!

warnings: suggestive comment from dante

DANTE

dante probably got sick from his weird hobby of eating pizza naked on his balcony every morning

it doesn't matter if it's winter, summer, autumn, or spring - dante will not start his day without it

thinking he is immortal and invincible from getting any sickness, he unfortunately got proven wrong

and is currently laying in bed in the most dramatic way possible, having a wet cloth pressed to his forehead by lovely reader who keeps fussing over him

dante being dramatic is an understandment

however, dante while being sick is another type of drama queen

clinging to the reader and whining about the smallest things possible

"my head hurts so much honey please"

"i have such a bad tummy ache"

"love please don't leave me i might die here from this disease please"

one day he straight up sat on your leg not allowing you to go to the kitchen to wash dishes, acting like a child

you of course couldn't refuse and just agreed to this fate, getting cuddled to death by this himbo of a man

and dante absolutely loves this attention

"baby, i could name a few things you could help me with" ;)

and even five days after he returns to being a healthy man, he still whines about how bad he feels and oh so amazing reader you need to take care of him, or he will painfully die

the only thing stopping him is the tragic looks of bills to play, nearly staring at him menacingly from his desk

oh yeah, and also, vergil

his loving brother looking straight through his white lies, demanding him to stop lying and get his ass to work while rolling his eyes

VERGIL

vergil will never admit he is sick.

never.

even while practically fainting trying to get to the bathroom with wobbly legs

he still isn't sick, no, of course vergil

at the beginning, he will refuse your attention - saying the strangest excuses known to humanity such as

"a wild dog bit me"

"it's probably my devil trigger acting up"

"i have a penis infection"

the reader just stands there ??? confused as to how this is relevant to being ill

but you stay silent and walk to the bathroom with the intention of washing clothes

however when you return, vergil is already passed out on floor with litreally 40° celsius

but don't get him wrong, vergil still isn't sick

while pampering around him, constantly bringing him food, medicine, drink or anything to please him, he lays like a grumpy cats and just accepts this

vergil will learn to actually like this new side of you, although he does hate feeling useless and weak.

therefore, he will return to work as soon as possible, so don't get so comfortable fussing around your lovely boyfriend

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

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bitterlycursedstars · 6 months

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Short fluff/smut.

Vergil x Fem!reader

Word count: 576

Summary: Vergil sneaks into your room late at night while you're sleeping to express his feelings to you in a certain way.

(Predetermined relationship, not r*pe)

Devil In The Night

You fell asleep on your side, but rolled over onto your back sometime in the night. The sound of your door slowly opening made you stir in your sleep, but didn't fully wake you up. No, the feeling of someone sitting on your bed and wrapping their hands around the underside of your thighs did the trick. You immediately lifted your head with wide eyes and looked down to see him between your legs, pushing your thighs up to your chest as he settled between them. The moment he saw your eyes open, he covered your mouth with his large hand.

"Shh..." Was all he said as he shifted his hips slightly, rubbing his hardness against your underwear, which elicited a small gasp from you. You tried to shut your thighs, but he kept them forced open with his hips as he moved your underwear to the side with his free hand, exposing you to him. You closed your eyes and let out a soft whine as you felt long fingers slowly entering you, subconsciously arching your back.

"If I let go of your mouth, will you stay quiet?" He whispered, raising his eyebrow. All you could do was nod frantically while his other hand continued teasing you. He slowly moved his hand from your mouth to rest on your thigh. "Good girl."

The hand that was resting on your thigh moved down to join the other one, teasing you, while this one stroked your now-swollen bud. You arched your back a little more and bit your bottom lip to stifle a moan as your thighs instinctively tried to snap shut. You dug your nails into your sheets and began to pant softly, doing everything in your power to hold back your moans.

"You have been a good girl, haven't you? I believe it's time for your reward..." He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, only to replace them with his aching member with a soft groan. This time, you couldn't stop the small moan that left your mouth. Your hips instinctively bucked up against his to take every inch of his throbbing member inside of your slick hole.

"Vergil..." You whined softly before his lips collided with yours, cutting you off from saying anything else. One hand of yours buried its fingers in his hair, while the other dug its nails into his upper back, causing him to moan into your mouth. His hands also found their way into your hair, gripping and tugging as both of you moved in sync, the pace and intensity gradually escalating as the heat built up inside both of you.

Your tongues danced with each other, occasionally vying for dominance amidst the moaning and groaning. Your legs tightened around his hips and your movements became more and more erratic. He knew it would not be long until you came undone for him. He smirked and bit your bottom lip before whispering into your ear.

"Lose yourself to me, my princess. Show me how much you love me..." You felt his warm breath and his soft lips grazing your ear, and that was all it took. You tugged his hair hard and nearly drew blood from his back with your nails as your walls clenched and unclenched around his member. He let go of your hair to instead grip your pillow tightly as he spilled himself into you, letting his body tell you what he was unable to.

#vergil #vergil sparda #dmc5 vergil #fanfic #my writing #vergil x reader #vergil x you #dmc x reader #dmc x you #fluff #smut #short fic #a03 #slightly ooc

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polarisbibliotheque · 2 months

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Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Dante's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Dante's Path

Pairing: Dante x Reader Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all. Author's Notes: Fucking. Finally. It took forever, but here I have around 20 pages of a demon wanting to marry the reader and Dante going feral over it. Took me ALL THIS TIME to write and I do apologize, but SO MUCH has happened since October, I'm finally managing to get my life back on track. So heeeeeey, here we have Dante's part of the Halloween Special for 2023! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand the road so far yes Supernatural fan right here and have fun!! But I do have to thank @furyeclipse - the idea came from an ask sent a thousand years ago and I've been reading her works on ao3 and that motivated™ me to write again! Be sure to check Fury's work over there!

Oh. And I highly recommend an AC/DC playlist while reading this. Just sayin'. We all know Dante is an AC/DC guy

Devil May Halloween 2023 – Dante’s Path

“You know, of all the things that could have happened to me as a hunter, getting into a forced marriage with a demon lord was the very last one I would’ve imagined.”

And you were definitely the only person in the world that could have made Kyrie laugh in a moment like that – at least, that was what she thought as she smiled for the first time since you both had stepped in that place.

It was desecrated ground, that was the reason why the demons chose such a place. An old cathedral, now turned into an abandoned set of ruins with a cemetery of forgotten souls in the back. Some stone walls still stood tall, but the roof was gone, along with some windows and part of its gothic architecture. The shroud of the darkest tones of night slowly crept over, having rows and sets of candles of all sizes as the only source of light beside the moon.

You and Kyrie were being kept in a secured room – the only with still four walls to hold you in, and a heavy set of crumbling wooden doors. You were handed wedding attires – white, as to demonstrate the purity of your human souls compared to demons – and shoved in there, forced to change before the ritual.

You tried to resist, but as soon as they threatened Kyrie, you had to abide. There was nothing you could do: you had promised Nero nothing would happen to her, and she was your weak spot that night.

“We will figure something out…” Kyrie murmured with a ghost of a smile on her soft lips, even if she didn’t carry too much hope in her heart. She knew that if you were alone, you would probably be fist-fighting demons with all your might to drag yourself out of that place, but with her by your side… She had never seen you so compliant.

“Hmmm. Yeah. I’m still trying to think of something.” You huffed, sitting by her side on a stone loveseat, having your elbows on your knees and your face cradled by your hands. “I feel naked without my stuff. So uncomfortable.”

Once again, Kyrie giggled. Indeed, it was probably the first time she ever saw you without your everyday clothes and specially without your weapons: be it your guns, your sword or even a pocketknife you carried around for emergency self-defense. She could only imagine how stripped you felt at that moment.

“Well, if it serves as consolation, this is definitely not my style.” She whispered in response, making you laugh immediately. Indeed, poor Kyrie looked like a princess covered in Chantilly. Too over-the-top for her, and you could say the same about your forced attire.

“Oh, what a mess we got ourselves into this time, huh…?” You still had that laugh in your lips, making Kyrie respond with a sad smile. “Though I bet Nero is going to die seeing you dressed as a bride.”

“He will never admit it.” Kyrie had to giggle with that mental image. She could almost see Nero standing in front of her, red as a tomato, stuttering while trying to maintain that nonchalant punk attitude he always tried to – even if Kyrie could easily see through all of that. “He does get all flustered whenever I’m wearing anything slightly bridal looking.”

“There you go. The hideous Chantilly wedding dress will have at least one good effect after all.” You sighed with a laugh, following Kyrie on her giggles as she blushed herself, happy to imagine that.

The moment wouldn’t last long, though, as you felt something shifting in the air. You immediately got up on your feet, keeping Kyrie safe and sound behind you. Her curious, scared eyes tried to pick up what was going on, but neither of you could see – you could just feel it.

With some fiery sparkles, one of the demons responsible for that mess materialized right in front of you.

“Well, well. It is good to see you are already prepared.” Horns and sharp features, but in the suit of a ruthless man – that was the best way you could describe the demon lords. They had the leathery wings, skin as rough as that of a lizard, eyes bright like flames in the dark – but something still carried the resemblance of a human being. They were tall – even taller than most doors – with sharp nails to be used as claws, fangs ready to tear throats apart. But they were built in the image of humans: something quite rare when it came to demons.

“Not out of our own free will – you shouldn’t be that pleased your minions managed to coerce us into these horrid things.” You pointed at your own attire, making Kyrie look up at you with tense eyes.

It was something she admired, to say the least. You could all look in the face of the most threatening of creatures and still manage to say something to taunt or belittle them. She wished she had that kind of courage.

“You do have a point, human.” The demon had a quick giggle in his voice, making you furrow your eyebrows slightly. It wasn’t every day one of those things would agree with your big mouth. “Come. I would very much like to speak with you.”

Oh. Demons and their teleportation shenanigans – to be quite honest, you hated it. Whenever you used any of their magic or even Vergil’s void thing from the Yamato, you always felt a little dizzy afterwards. It took you some quick seconds to make sense you were in what seemed to be the abandoned church’s library – in a room made of stones and rotten books, lit by decrepit candles and having just one usable table in a corner. The demon lords had clearly made that their own room for the day.

“It’s rare a demon wishes to talk.” You finally managed to say while the demon lord slowly walked towards his desk, having you in the middle of the room. Now Kyrie was alone and you had no idea what was going on with her – you had to play your cards well to see her alive again. “According to my experience, your kind prefers a bloodier approach.”

“I take it you haven’t met many demon lords then.” He had a nonchalant tone, waving his hand in disregard as he approached his desk and leaned into it, staring at you. “Nevertheless, that is more Orcus’ style.”

“Your little friend.”

“Al Pacino did play the devil once, didn’t he…?” The demon laughed in response and you did your best to cover up the shock that he understood your Scarface reference.

Movies and pop culture references with Dante were a given – the same way Vergil was an encyclopedia of forgotten and obscure texts, Dante was the go-to man when it came to movies, especially the classic ones. Making references and laughing with each other was something both of you cherished wholeheartedly – and you never thought a demon would get it.

Vergil never did – and he had to have spent some time with those guys in the last decades.

“Well, I don’t think you brought me down here just to talk about movies.” You crossed your arms, trying as much as you could to look tough in that attire. Which wasn’t going very well for you. “And it certainly wasn’t to properly ask for my hand in marriage.”

“Oh, no, no…” He answered with a laugh that crackled like fire – and you could easily see the amusement in his eyes. “I wanted to see what the son of Sparda saw in you… To bind himself to one of the weakest creatures known. Just like his father before him.”

“It’s not like Dante has married me, you know? We’re not like Eva and Sparda.” You raised one of your eyebrows. Something about that conversation was very… Weird. To put it mildly. “We’re not bonded like you want to do today. And on that note, I have to point out: marriages are quite religious. Aren’t you guys going to combust spontaneously trying to do something holy?”

“Oh, but you are bonded. He may not have chosen his father’s path, but his heart does not lie.” The demon had something quite mischievous in his eyes, and you were starting to notice the difference between him and Orcus: the second one was more of a brute, a lord of war so to speak – the one you were talking to, Erlach, was very cunning; but there was a glint of bloodthirstiness in the back of his eyes. That made him even more dangerous than you gave him credit for at first. “I shall never understand why Sparda did not wish to follow the ritual with his human. That would have made him so powerful, not even the most dangerous creatures in Hell would have dared to slaughter his family. A shame really.” He tossed aside a charred painting of Sparda and Eva: old, barely holding itself together, but still clearly depicting the couple holding hands and smiling to whoever decided to look upon them. “We do have our own rituals – and demons are no strangers to marriages. It has another name in Hell, though, it is a binding ritual: where souls connect and one can be made more from the other’s power.”

“Oh. So the other just accepts it’s going to be a puny little thing beside their partner? Sounds more like slavery to me.” You wouldn’t give the demon the benefit of the doubt nor make it all sound so wonderful. Anything related to devils always had a catch – and that had to be the catch to their own twisted version of a ‘marriage’.

And in all honesty, you weren’t looking forward to be made a slave to a demon lord.

“Some creatures enjoy that.” And the smile that covered Erlach’s lips could be only considered devilish. You did your best not to look like you were agreeing – even if you knew, deep down, that yes, some people did enjoy that. “Every con has its pro. With the binding and forfeit of power, comes protection and status. Few would want to desecrate the partner of a powerful demon – it could easily be the last thing they would do.”

“if I am bonded to Dante, then, I wonder why would someone like you decide to mess with the chosen partner of the son of Sparda.” Now you had a small smile hidden in the corner of your lips, slightly raising your head in hubris. You wouldn’t lie: the status you got from him among demons was always very welcome. “Not that I really need him to help me. If I had my weapons, you would all be laying on the floor in a pool of your own blood – and I’d be home celebrating Halloween with him.”

Erlach stared into your eyes for a good four seconds before opening a threatening smile with his sharp fangs. His own eyes burned like fire, but you never let his gaze go – it wasn’t in you to be scared by the likes of him. You had seen worse, you had fought worse… And only you knew how threatening Dante’s eyes could look when he was half asleep in a nightmare of his young years with you trying to wake him up so he could have some peace. That was worse than any demon you could ever face.

“Indeed, that is why I needed some leverage against you.” He waved his hand nonchalantly towards the door and you immediately understood he was talking about Kyrie. “It was never my intention to allow Orcus to bond to some creature as powerful as mine… But I did not knew the extent of your powers, so I needed something to keep you in line. Luckily, Sparda’s grandson is not as attuned to powerful partners as Sparda’s children.”

You furrowed your brows. Whenever you talked between the members of the crew, there was a tacit agreement Kyrie was indeed the most powerful of all – for her ability to love openly, to cry, to be vulnerable and to care with such an open heart.

But those abilities were inherently human – and appreciated in humans rather than demons. In the human point of view, Kyrie was stronger than all of you together, and no one could argue against that. But in the demonic point of view… You and Lady were top of the list when it came to being able to take demons in a fair fight.

But you… You had Dante’s heart.

“It was part of our bargain. But I would never allow Orcus to bind to the most powerful of partners, would I?” Again, that smile painted his lips. You remained in the middle of the room, holding his gaze, not even flinching as he approached you. “I must admit, though, I never thought you would have this… Fire.”

As Erlach stopped with a few inches from your own face, you didn’t recoil. You remained with your arms crossed, standing as tall as you could in front of that huge demon lord as his fiery eyes just stared deeply into yours – and you stared back.

But you sensed something… Different. In his words, in his gaze. You wanted to furrow your brows as you were slowly coming to realize something, but you did your best to remain as proud and emotionless as you could – and Erlach took note of that. A pleasurable note.

“I can see what the son of Sparda saw in you.” That devilish smile colored his lips once more as the demon took another step towards you. It took you a great amount of willpower not to step back. You would never step back. “When demons bind with demons, it is one sort of marriage. When demons bind with humans, on Samhein, with the correct ritual… Well, it is a very different thing. A kind of binding never seen before – and never attempted, not even by Sparda.” Erlach approached with another step, making you raise your head even higher. Every fiber of your being wanted to scream Dante’s name and watch your red devil storm inside that room and suplex Erlach face first on the floor – as he deserved. The demon lord, though, offered one hand to you, palm facing up. “At first, I targeted you for Dante would not take a weakling as a partner, but now… I am more than inclined to take you as mine. With me, you would have the protection and status of royalty in Hell. We can take over entire worlds. And they would all be mine and yours to rule.” You just kept staring at him as Erlach’s fiery eyes stared even more deeply into yours. “You just have to say yes.”

To say your head was spinning was an understatement. What a wild ride that night was becoming – and something inside you stirred, telling you it would become even wilder. Were you reading his words right…? His gestures…? Not that Erlach was being subtle about it, he was being as blunt as his kind could be, but… Were you going crazy? You were, probably. That was a more plausible explanation than what you had to admit yourself – than what you were living right at that moment.

“If you think I’d give up Dante for power, then you can see nothing he saw in me.” You spat back, still holding your head high. “You are just as clueless as the rest of your kind.”

Erlach laughed back – not a laugh of an evil demon as you were used to, but one of delight. He… Enjoyed your answer…?

“The more you speak, the more I see.” He finally chuckled, stepping back after one last stare. “And I will see you later.”

With a snap of his fingers, you were back to the cold, abandoned crypt you and Kyrie were being held hostages. As your dizziness faded and you came back to reality, you saw her holding one of your hands, checking if you were ok with one of her palms on your forehead. Even if you didn’t feel lightheaded anymore, your mind was still troubled – and you had to sit down on the stone loveseat you shared with Kyrie earlier.

“Are you ok, y/n? What happened?” She sat by your side, big hazelnut eyes staring at you with warmth and humanity – so much different from the fiery pit of Erlach’s eyes. So much more welcoming and cozier. So much more like home. You would’ve hugged her if you weren’t so disoriented. “Y/n. What did he do to you? What happened?!”

“I think…” You finally managed to put into words what just happened – even if you didn’t want to say what you thought out loud. It seemed that by saying it, a sort of magic would make it become true. “I think… A demon lord just fell in love with me.”

You and Kyrie just stared at each other in horror, not even knowing what to say.

“What the hell…?!”

And Kyrie finally managed to put into words what you had been thinking the whole time.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Nico just stared at Lady as Dante growled while mounting on his bike.

To be fair, Nico wasn’t the safest person to be behind a wheel, even more in a dire situation like that with Nero by her side looking like he was about to bite ankles and throw punches – but something about Dante looking like he was about to burst into flames while viciously riding the Cavaliere and growling in a half-distorted demon voice was enough to get the gunsmith ever so slightly… Concerned.

“Everything ok there, Dante, or do we need to take you in the van?” Lady screamed out her window, while Nico hoped the bright red glint in Dante’s eyes was only her imagination. “You look like you wanna beat me in a race! We hunt demons to save humans, not run them over, you know?”

“Eh, demon spidey-sense is tinglin’, Lady! That’s no good!” Dante screamed back, doing his best to keep the demonic part of his voice repressed inside his chest. He would have more than enough opportunities to let that explode. “Y/n is unsafe. I can feel it. And I…” With that, Dante drove to the back of the van because of a narrowing road, only to come back a few seconds later. “Don’t…” Another interruption for Dante not to run over a citizen cluelessly crossing the street and almost being run over by Nico. “Like it!”

His last phrase couldn’t keep the distortion in anymore and it sounded like a deep roar that came out of his chest like fire. Trish could already see the fangs in his bared teeth: those demons were in for the fight of a lifetime, for everyone knew making Dante’s lover feel unsafe was one of the worst sins in the Sparda dictionary.

Nico opened her mouth to talk to Nero – because, maybe, he could beat some sense into his uncle’s head, given they had the very same heritage – but for the first time she just put the cigarette between her lips and decided to shut up.

She was still getting used to Nero’s new trigger, so the halfway-into-turning state was something Nico didn’t really know how to deal with. By this point, Nero’s nails were definitely claws and his fangs were very much similar to Dante’s. He was fidgeting everywhere, messing with Blue Rose, as if something was really wrong with the gun and he had to fix it – a thousand fucking times. Nico could also swear his eyes were starting to glow with an inhumane gold tinge and that was very alien to her.

“Hey, kid! What about your spidey-sense tingling? Anything new?” Luckily for Nico, she had Trish around – and that woman was a pure devil, so there were very few things she feared. They all knew Nero was getting used to his own new powers, so Trish always decided to stay around and lend a hand whenever Nero had to go through something emotionally heavy – she knew it herself that demon instinct always came crashing like a wild wave whenever emotions were running high.

“Eh, she’s not good too, Trish. Worried as heck, I can feel it.” Nero mumbled under his breath, fixing the barrels of the Blue Rose for the tenth time, probably – not even needing to mention he was talking about Kyrie. With a click, the gun cocked back to its original state and Nero turned his now slightly golden aquamarine eyes to the devil leaning on his seat. “And I don’t like it either. Not at fucking all.”

Nico had to say, it always sent shivers down her spine when Nero spoke with his demonic voice like that. She was used to him being her goofy sort of brother, bickering with her down the road and tossing over-the-top, smart mouthed taunts to demons. Hearing him like that was… Something else. And Nico didn’t like it that much as well.

The last time you felt unsafe seemed like a whole lifetime ago.

You tried to control your hands as they wanted to start shaking – but you kept telling yourself you needed to keep Kyrie safe. After all, you were the devil hunter, not her. Kyrie could kill every single one in the crew with kindness, but not those devils… Those had to be killed with blades and gunpowder.

Being with Dante had given you something you never really had before, and just now you noticed it was tied to your red devil: safety. Even if he wasn’t around physically, you could always count on the fact that Dante, son of Sparda, Crimson Slayer, would bend Hell itself around his will to keep you from any kind of harm. It had never downed on you because, up until that point, that was a given.

Today, Halloween of all days, was a little more complicated. Dante wasn’t around, the whole ritual was bound to have some heavy magic to keep him at bay, you were completely unarmed and the demons you were up against were another kind – not the stupid, belligerent type you handled almost on a daily basis; no, those were smart, cunning and dangerous.

To top all of that, you had Kyrie on your side. If you were alone, you’d probably already be trying some unhinged escape attempts, but they were so smart on deciding to kidnap her as well. She was your weak spot on that situation and the fact that you felt unsafe and couldn’t do your best to protect her, only highlighted the fear you started to feel creeping up at the base of your stomach.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, the only thing that could at least try to calm your nerves was to imagine being back in Dante’s arms, at the Devil May Cry, the smell of warm pizza around and him humming some old tunes you both loved. That was home. That was your haven. Dante was your refuge, keeping you secure from every evil thing that could attack you in this world, and he wasn’t there.

For a split second, you wondered if he could feel how much your heart was aching – screaming with all its might in the hopes he would hear its call.

Suddenly, two demons entered the room you and Kyrie were being held. They didn’t have to say much: with swords pointed at both of you and the heavy doors wide open, you knew it was time. Knowing you had to calm your nerves so at least she could have a chance to escape, you got up and calmly walked in front of Kyrie – head high and staring those demons right back in their eyes.

“Everything will be ok.” You murmured back over your shoulder, knowing Kyrie would listen. “If you find a safe chance to run, do it and don’t look back. I can handle them better alone.”

You felt Kyrie’s soft hands brushing on one of yours, her voice nothing but a whisper. “Don’t put yourself in danger, y/n. I don’t wanna run without you.”

You closed your eyes, chuckling a little in silence. She was indeed an angel among so many demons – including all of you in the crew. “Oh, Kyrie. You have to learn… The whole crew would die for you, don’t you know that already…?” And even if your words weren’t the kindest, you had the sweetest tone in your voice – saying nothing but the truth. “You run. It’ll take more than a few demons to bring me down.”

Kyrie knew you were lying only to make her feel safer – there was a tinge of bitterness in your sweetness, a slight glint of sadness in your eyes. Those were more than a few demons, and both of you knew it.

She could only sigh in response and confirm with her head. You and Dante were bittersweetly so alike: always lying and pretending nothing was too serious, putting yourselves on the line for those you loved, trying to make them stop worrying while you were both ready to walk right into certain death. She had seen how angry you got every time he tried to pull something like that on you – and Kyrie had to smile even if a little bit upon realizing how similar you and your lover were, even if you hated when he did that.

Both of your thoughts had to be violently changed and brought back to the present moment when the time came to enter what one day was a beautiful, untarnished cathedral. The imposing gothic architecture was in shambles, the stars shining clearly in the deep night sky above your heads – the high peaks of the cathedral long gone. A long tapestry on the ground, torn apart and eaten by parasites, lead the way in a dirty blood red to the middle of the aisle, where a grandiose bonfire stood and lit none other than your groom.

That was definitely not the devil you had intended to marry if you ever walked down the aisle. Also, you always thought if you ever married Dante, the ceremony would be in the Devil May Cry: you would enter the shop, dressed in your best hunting clothes – maybe something leather, carefully picked by Trish to make you even more mesmerizing – watching Dante smiling at you, leaning on his desk, arms crossed and love pouring from his eyes.

That was the perfect marriage for you alright. And leaving for a quick honeymoon with your red devil, riding on the Cavaliere, a few cans tied to it with a “just married” sign on the back, waving at the crew at the door of the shop while Dante made the motorcycle burn the road with its demonic power? More than perfect.

“You shall enter first. The other human stays until your ritual is performed.” One of the demons held Kyrie hostage, pointing your way down the derelict aisle. Her eyes were filled with fear, and you couldn’t do anything but comply.

Holding your head high, you walked down the damned aisle. Not like a perfect fiancé, but like a wronged force of nature, just waiting for the right time to unleash your fury against all those demons. You were wearing those ridiculous clothes, on that ridiculous place, while demons started chanting and playing a song for the demonic ritual that had just started, stripped of your guns, blades and clothes.

To say you wanted to sucker punch Erlach on his face until his sharp teeth fell out was an understatement.

And yet, he had nothing but admiration and fire in his eyes for you. The more you approached, the more he smiled, offering you his hand as you were getting closer and closer – you refused to take it, standing in front of him just like you did when he first talked to you.

“You know, the kidnapping and taking my gear away, I could forgive. But these clothes…?” You pointed down at that hideous thing that was forced to you. “You could’ve done better. A lot better.”

“I judged you by all the mortals I’ve ever met – and now I realize I shouldn’t have done so. Do apologize, exquisite creature.” And Erlach answered your insult with a delighted distorted laugh. You just remained there, looking like you had just stuck a flip flop into a toaster, not knowing what to do. It seemed that the more you tried to repel him, the more Erlach liked you. “But rituals shouldn’t be taken lightly. One should wear the proper attire.”

“To think a demon would’ve dressed his counterpart a lot better and risqué than this…” You sighed, pushing all those ruffles away from your face as he, once more, tried to take your hand and guide you to approach the bonfire. “I thought this was going to be a dual wedding. Where’s your friend?”

“Orcus can try to pull off his ritual after I’m done with mine.” Erlach had a devilish smile pulling his lips up in a distorted line. It was a little… Unsettling. “We… Agreed such a powerful ritual should be done one at a time.”

“Huh. That’ll be before or after you kill him?” You had one eyebrow lifted and Erlach laughed with joy in his voice, now finally forcing you to walk with him towards the bonfire. “You got quite the silver tongue to convince him you’re gonna let him go through with his ritual with his head still on his shoulders.”

“Oh, my dear, you have no idea.” Erlach forced you to spin around and look deep into his eyes, holding you by both of your arms in an iron clasp you couldn’t break away easily without your weapons. “You are very welcome to discover soon enough. I am mesmerized with your cunning and wit – so much better than all those pitiful uninspired creatures I have to live with every day. We will be quite a pair, sweet temptation.”

That admiration was there, that fire burning in his eyes, and… Lust…?! You had to contain a shiver of pure terror thinking a creature like that lusted for you. It wasn’t necessarily his appearance – you did find Dante one hell of a piece of temptation in whatever form he was, be it human, Devil Trigger or even his Sin Devil Trigger – but his soul. Erlach lacked the very thing that made you fall madly and hopelessly for Dante: his golden heart, his gentle soul, his kind eyes and his unapologetic humanity.

That was why it didn’t matter how Dante looked like: you would always fall in love with him. Even if he was just a piece of rock with googly eyes laying on his desk, you would love that rock with all your heart.

“What if I refuse to be your pair?” You had one of your eyebrows raised, trying to hide the fear creeping at the base of your stomach. “As far as I know, all marriages require a resounding yes from both parts. What are you gonna do? Torture me?”

“As tempting as that sounds…” And even if you didn’t show it, your blood certainly froze in your veins for a second. “I fear you would take a very long time to break under such circumstances. The Son of Sparda chose you for your brave heart and hardened soul, I can see that now. Luckily for demonic rituals, the sacrifices don’t need to consent.”

“Oh. I thought I was more than just a disposable piece of meat. I’m hurt.” Masking your fear with jokes and taunts, you had learned that with the very best. Dante had all the blame for that.

“Don’t be, my creature.” Erlach’s words were laced with a laugh while he took a ceremonial dagger from an altar nearby. “That is how humans are usually named in our rituals. You will remain alive, or else, it doesn’t work. I do need your blood… A reasonable amount, but nothing lethal.”

His hand clasped your wrist with a tight grip you couldn’t break from. Your heart started beating faster and faster, as you looked around trying to find Kyrie – crossing her terrified eyes as she watched from the distance, close to the entrance where once was a door, fearing for your life. You wanted to mutter some soothing words for her, but not even you could lie that much: your survival instincts kicked in and your adrenaline spiked. It was now or never, but you had to escape.

Erlach held your arm above a bowl made of pure gold, now darkened with time and stained with all the sacrifices it contained. He spoke some words in demonic language, while the chanting got even more intense – some things you could understand, but the others were lost as your mind became hazy with trying to think what to do.

It was a surprise to all – you closed your free hand in a fist and did exactly what you wanted to do since you saw that hideous thing you were wearing: sucker punch that conceited demon right on his face.

Erlach was taken aback for a moment, looking back at you with confused eyes. Seizing his distraction, you disarmed him and took the ceremonial dagger to yourself, cutting his hand that held your wrist and demanding him to let you go. Erlach stumbled back in awe, while you took a fighting stance with the dagger in your hand, ready to kill – but not ready to get married.

And he smiled.

“Such fire…!” To say Erlach was ecstatic was an underestimation. “My creature… What are you going to do with that?” And he took a predator stance, as both of you studied your options in that fight.

If you could look back at Kyrie, you would see her smiling and supporting you as much as she could. To say she admired you, was to say you only liked Dante.

“I am going to kill every single demon in this cathedral… Including you.” Pointing the dagger at Erlach, it was your turn to allow a devilish smile to cover your lips. “Then, I’m taking my friend back home. Back into the arms of the only devil I will ever love. Back to Dante.”

As you spoke, you didn’t even hear a ragged guitar faintly playing in the background – and approaching ominously. The only thing you had in mind was a tunnel focus on Erlach, ready to tear him apart as soon as he got close to you.

“Oh, I will enjoy that, my creature. And I might even need to get rid of Dante myself.” As soon as he finished his sentence, though, you scoffed in a laughter of pure mockery.

“Now that, you would try. Dante is so much more than you will ever be – he will reduce you to ashes with a single stare. That’s how pitiful you are compared to him, Erlach.” As your words poured, you couldn’t stop laughing at how he looked slightly insulted. Fucking finally. “And I gotta say, that’s not the only thing Dante is really good at. He does burn like fire.”

“I will enjoy subduing you.” Erlach growled, baring his teeth. Now you managed to piss him off.

“I will enjoy watching you try.” You wouldn’t allow him too much time to think: spinning the blade in your hand for a better grip, you finally tried to stab him with a swift attack – but he easily dodged as you got even angrier at that ridiculous clothing you were wearing. Those frills and terrible fabric made your movement a lot debilitated.

You tried a few other attacks as Erlach dodged and started smiling again, enjoying every bit of it – starting to even try a few attacks, while you blocked with the dagger. It was all too fast… At the same pace of the guitar that now echoed loudly, with a very familiar song approaching the chorus.

“Now, my creature.” Erlach held your hand with the dagger when you tried another stab. Even if you were resisting, it was more entertaining than anything else: you needed your gear. He pulled you closer to him, even if you tried to stay away as much as you could. “It’s time to stop the fun. We can do this after the ritual.”

Before any of you could do anything else, the guitar finally arrived – with the screeching of what seemed a thousand tires, the smell of gasoline and the sound of a shot from a gun you knew so well.

Said shot hit the dagger, making it shatter into a thousand little pieces in your hand, causing Erlach to let go of you in a reflex – while AC/DC’s vocalist screamed he would shoot to thrill, play to kill.

“Well, I think we’re all ready for the afterparty, aren’t we, hot stuff?”

Dante had entered down the aisle with Cavaliere screeching, leaving a trail of fire behind him, stopping right in the middle to shoot that ceremonial dagger into oblivion. The smoke was still fresh on the barrel of his gun, while he had one foot on the ground, still mounted on his motorcycle, smirking at you with that gorgeous smile that, today, you wanted to kiss out of his mouth with so much passion the crew would probably have to throw a whole bucket of water on both of you to put out the fire.

And, right behind him, Nico crashed what was left of the cathedral’s door while blasting AC/DC’s Shoot to Thrill because she would be damned if she didn’t put a good soundtrack for that moment. You could see her smiling behind the wheel, supporting every single bit of Dante’s antics.

The smile that painted your lips – a broad one, mixed with thrill and relief – was everything Dante wanted to see. That was all the confirmation he needed to know that pull in his chest was actually your heart desperately calling for him to help.

“Ya know, I could forgive the kidnapping, you got one hell of a devil hunter in your hands to deal with…” Dante now let go of Cavaliere, leaving it in the middle of the cathedral, walking down the aisle with the sassy walk you always loved to see – moving his hips and opening his arms, taunting with a pretended carefree attitude. The distortion in his voice, sharp teeth and claws betrayed his words, though – and you couldn’t be happier. “But what’s the deal with those clothes?!”

“Exactly.” You smiled back, sighing as if someone there finally understood you. Erlach just looked at you and back at Dante trying to contain his surprise – it wasn’t possible you were synchronized in even that. “I can barely move, how am I supposed to kick his ass?”

“I can help ya with that, pretty eyes.” Dante’s voice now became darker, leaning even further into his Devil Trigger. For a split second, you could swear you saw his demonic form taking over before Dante appeared again. His eyes were almost entirely taken by red, his hand already gripping the hilt of Rebellion. “But I gotta deal with a few of these clowns first.”

“I’m not going anywhere, hot stuff.” You had the proudest of smiles on your lips as the demons started to approach, ready to fight your red devil. “Show them what a real party looks like.”

“Ya don’t have to ask twice!”

“What are you all waiting for?!” As soon as Erlach screamed, the demons ran towards Dante as a pack of rabid creatures, ready to take his blood. Erlach smiled with pride as they surrounded the Crimson Slayer, already pouncing to take a bite – there was no way a hybrid could take so many demons at once in a fight.

Looking at the crew’s van, you managed to see Lady leaning by the vehicle, watching it all with excitement but refusing to get into the fight. You almost laughed upon seeing Trish holding Nero’s jacket while he tried to let himself go from her iron tight grip, probably saying he should be in the fight too – but his eyes weren’t locked on Dante or the swarming demons: Nero was looking for Kyrie.

And you would’ve done the same, finally questioning yourself where they were keeping her after all that confusion took over the ritual. Nero could very well let himself go of Trish, but everyone knew he had his own priority – a priority you couldn’t find, and that fact started worrying you.

You would have given that a better thought if a sudden fiery explosion hadn’t sent demons flying around the cathedral like fireworks. Dante’s Devil Trigger was on, but not his normal one… It was his Sin Devil Trigger in all his demonic glory, with leathery wings hovering him from the floor and Devil Sword Dante burning like fire in his hands.

To say that would be a slaughter… Again, would be putting it lightly. With the masterfully chosen soundtrack by Nico blasting on the background, Dante single handedly slayed all the demons that decided to cross between you and him. You risked a side look to Erlach, only to find the demon astonished by Dante’s form and power – and you couldn’t resist. You leaned on the altar next to you, with a matter-of-fact look in your eyes.

“He usually has this effect on people… And demons.” You had to say it. You just couldn’t refrain from taunting and annoying that silly devil who forced you to wear those terrible wedding clothes.

With the Devil Sword Dante dripping blood, the son of Sparda approached as he slayed all the demons that tried to fight. Dante was a frightening powerhouse – usually terrifying, but today even more… After all, the human he loved most in all dimensions was kidnapped by a conceited demon who thought he would have the chance to bind his beloved in a marriage ritual without their consent. Dante was beyond angry.

“It will only be an obstacle, then.” Erlach turned his eyes back to you. “Don’t think for a second I gave up, my creature. If I have to kill the son of Sparda, I will do so – with the power you will grant me with your blood.”

Once again, the demon held your arm – but this time, digging the nails into your skin, making you scream with the sudden pain. That made Dante immediately turn to you, being hit as well and inundating the cathedral with the smell of the blood of Sparda. His fighting became sloppy as he tried to approach you even faster – but it also became even more vicious.

Erlach dragged you back to the sacrificial bowl, as you tried to get away. Even with your fighting, your limited movements weren’t helping too much. As he extended your arm above the bowl, you managed to see – behind him, in the distance, covered in shadows – Orcus holding Kyrie hostage, searching everywhere for a breech so he could finish his ritual before Erlach.

“Nero! Kyrie is over there! Go kick his ass, kid!” You screamed while fighting so Erlach couldn’t drip your blood into the bowl. Yes, he needed more than a few drops from the gashes from his claws – but he could make them bigger once you were in a decent position. And you didn’t want to give him that.

“Kyrie! I’m coming for you!” And finally, after his aquamarine eyes found Kyrie’s plea for help, Nero did let go of Trish with ease – and the she-devil didn’t even try to hold him back. With just a smile on her face, the woman looked back at Lady and they knew it was time to intervene now that both of you were located and they wouldn’t risk any of your lives.

Amidst all that, with Dante literally burning his way towards you while being held back by three demons, a few invisible cuts made them fall apart and gush blood all over the floor. Vergil entered the cathedral, while carrying an old book you saw at Erlach’s office earlier that night – the book with all the ancient, and most forbidden, devilish incantations.

“Go on, Dante. I’ll take it from here.” Vergil barely looked at the demons he was fighting with: holding the book with one hand and being assisted by summoned swords, he only needed a few well placed judgement cuts to get rid of all those nuisances.

Dante didn’t even think twice after hearing his brother’s words. Marching down the aisle, he approached you and Erlach like a death omen – his demonic form in his ultimate Devil Trigger was enough to inspire respect even in the upper echelon of Hell.

And you had to say, you were proud of that.

“Let y/n go, Erlach.” As Dante commanded, you couldn’t fail to notice his voice was slightly… Different. The more he approached, the more his voice sounded less distorted and more human. “Ya know, for a demon with such a pretentious plan, you’d think you’d put up more of a difficult fight.” And when Dante stopped right in front of the altar between you both, he was completely human – looking at you with the sky blue eyes you loved so much. “I’m barely breakin’ a sweat.”

If Erlach’s claws weren’t deep into your skin, you would’ve locked your arms around his neck already, taking in his scent and calming down your heart. Yes, Dante would be smelling of gunpowder, blood and sweat, but that was still his scent. It was enough to make you feel secure again.

“Indeed. I underestimated you.” Erlach’s claws dug out of your skin, making you retreat quickly. You managed to see a little commotion where Kyrie and Nero were before, but with everything that was happening, you couldn’t quite make the moment where Orcus was nowhere to be seen – all you could be sure was that Kyrie was safe, back into Nero’s arms. And that was enough. “It seems like the blood of Sparda still thrives to this day.”

“Yeah, yeah, daddy’s blood and all that…” Dante rolled his eyes, shooting near Erlach’s feet. The demon jumped back, farther away from you – and that made you smile. “Spit it out, spook. How did you find out ‘bout the ritual? Where did ya get that book?”

“Apparently you never heard of a library. On that aspect, I win, my creature.” Erlach still had that weird admiration in his eyes for you, making you wince. You never gave him a single reason to like you. Demons had to be masochist creatures.

“Oh, I heard about those alright. It just so happens my brother here has spent a very long vacation time in Hell and lemme tell ya…” With those words, Dante finally took Erlach by his neck, leaning the demon over the sacrificial bowl and touching the blade of Rebellion on his neck. Dante usually didn’t get that feral… But Erlach had tried him a little bit too much that night. “He doesn’t have very nice words about you and your little friends. Those rituals aren’t well known in detail. Something gave you that book. Who?”

It wasn’t a side of Dante you liked to see, but, when dealing with those kinds of demons, it was a necessary one. Erlach, as far as you could tell, wasn’t just your dumb daily demon – he was in the upper echelon. And said echelon only became worse the higher the rank.

“You would love to know, wouldn’t you?” Erlach laughed even if the sword already started to nick some blood out of his thick demonic skin. “You will have to let me go to get your answer. If you don’t, no deal.”

You closed your eyes, sighing. Erlach was the deal kind of demon. And it was always a slippery slope with those silver tongue devils.

Dante knew that as well. His heart screamed at him to kill Erlach and let his blood run over the floor of the cathedral – to take you home safely and let you know that threat would never loom over you again.

But they needed answers. Only very high rank demons would have access to that kind of book – to those kinds of rituals. Demons like Sparda… Like Mundus. And that was something none of them wanted as a threat. The single thought of the possibility of Mundus being alive made him shiver and his blood boil. His house burned in his childhood, his family slaughtered like animals, his past stained in blood and sulfur. He didn’t want that to happen again. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Not to anyone in the crew, not to his nephew, not to his brother… Not to you.

Dante let Erlach go. The demon cracked his neck, gaining his posture once again. You stood by Dante’s side, ready to suplex Erlach into oblivion if he tried anything funny.

“The two of you already have what you need to know the answer.” Erlach pointed at the book in Vergil’s hands, moving his gaze back to you soon after. “I will have you as mine, y/n. You have my word, sweet creature.”

Before you could do anything in response, Erlach set himself ablaze in flames that kept burning for a few seconds while he disappeared back to where he came from – probably Hell, if you had to guess.

“Eh. We should’ve known he would leave without giving us a decent answer.” You sighed, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time that night, knowing all demons were dead and you were around safe people again.

“And even shamelessly flirtin’ with ya, what’s up with that…?”

“No idea, red devil. I did my best for him to hate me; apparently it backfired tremendously.”

You finally turned to look at each other. Both of you looked tired, completely out of energy – you, from your human body; Dante from the toll all that fiery explosion of anger and demonic heritage could take on him. His eyes, though… Those sky blue eyes, looked at you with the human kindness you always longed for – with the admiration and fire of a lover, but the gentleness of a soul who was not only your mate, but your home.

You felt safe again. All that insecurity, that fear, that horror of being alone and having to fight on your own – to survive on your own – it washed away in that infinite blue sky. He was your home, and you were safe. Nothing bad would ever happen to you, for Dante was there to catch you and hold you in his arms until you felt you could walk with certainty again.

“I heard you, pretty eyes…” Dante murmured, taking a strand of hair out of your dirty face, watching with amusement as you furrowed your brows. He took one of his hands over his heart, eyes looking into yours. “I heard you here.”

A gradual smile lit up your face as you understood what he had said. That pull, that thing you did, of closing your eyes and praying he would find you… It worked. Of course it worked. And you couldn’t be happier, with all that pouring like a golden fountain from your heart, making your eyes laminate with a few tears and threaten to overflow.

“I’m glad you did, cowboy.” You approached him, cradling his face with your hands and leaning him down so his forehead could touch yours. “I’m glad you did. I prayed so loud for you.”

With that, you took his hand to touch your heart, in the hopes he would once again listen – but this time hear the golden tunes it sang along the overflow. The frills of the ridiculous attire didn’t allow him to find your beat, though.

“Well, I told ya I’d get rid of that, right?” Dante sighed, staring down at that horrid attire – although he would argue you could never look bad. Even with that thing on. “Ei! All of ya, look away! I’m puttin’ y/n out of their misery!”

“What…?”

Before you could finish asking, though, Dante masterfully moved Rebellion around you – while everyone turned away or closed their eyes. Lady and Trish, though, just kept staring at that goof of a man you called your lover. Within a few seconds, those terrifying wedding clothes tore apart, pooling around your feet on the floor while you just stared back at your red devil – the chilly air of the night all around your bare skin.

“That was hot.” You had to say it while Dante quickly checked you out like the masterpiece he always thought you were.

“Not as hot as you, babe.” With a wink, Dante took off his red coat, wrapping it around you and making you warm again.

You loved wearing Dante’s coat. It was definitely too big for you, but it was always warm – that night, you could almost say it seemed like it was enveloped in flames. But it had his scent all over it and it fit like a huge cape you could almost drag on the ground. You couldn’t have asked for a better attire for that evening.

“Hey.” As you called for his attention, those blue eyes rested on you again, little by little settling all that restlessness that whole ordeal had set in your soul. And, since words weren’t enough, you once again cradled his face with your hands, this time placing a well-deserved kiss on your lover’s lips.

Dante giggled between your lips, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to lift you off the floor – making it easier for you to kiss him unapologetically. You never saw yourself as a damsel in distress, and you would have killed every demon in that room with a dagger and your teeth if it was necessary, but it wasn’t. And that was so new: you could always count on Dante to be there for you, to protect you and to be a place for you to fall whenever you lost your balance.

Your heart stopped screaming and Dante’s soul found peace again.

“Ah, I see Nero stole Dante’s idea.”

As you saw Kyrie leaving the van’s bathroom wearing nothing but Nero’s coat, she smiled happily back at you while showing it off as soon as you pointed that out. You were sitting in the van, still in the red coat – Dante would know only later that decision would cost him his sanity while trying to get his coat back from you. A few chases and him gripping you tight to get his coat back was in store for the rest of that night.

“It was a very good idea.” Kyrie had a mischievous smile on her lips, blushing a little bit while grabbing the collar of Nero’s coat and taking in the scent. “It smells like him. It feels like he’s always around.”

“I know what you mean.” You smiled proudly as an answer, barely noticing Nico staring at both of you while Lady and Trish giggled.

“Ya know what she means…? That coat is nasty!” Nico pointed at the blue coat enveloping the crew’s little angel, making you laugh a little bit more. “And yours?! If Nero’s coat is bad, Dante’s even worse! Looks like he just blasted from the insides of a frog demon or somethin’! And you say it has his scent?!” The gunsmith couldn’t be more revolted at yours and Kyrie’s antics.

“That’s Dante’s scent for ya...” You sighed, leaning back on the van’s seat – something quite red devilish like. “Gunpowder, demon’s blood and sweat. When he’s clean, though, it’s more of a woody and musky with a hint of pizza kind of scent. Sometimes strawberries.”

“Apparently, love doesn’t make us only blind, it makes our sense of smell completely absent.” Trish strutted her way towards the seat she always took in the van, across from you, having a complacent smile on her devil lips.

“It makes us more tolerant.” Kyrie sat by your side, completely happy to be wearing Nero’s clothes and safe and sound with the crew again. “That is a thing most people need to learn more about.”

“As always, angel Kyrie is right.” Lady sighed, taking her spot inside the van – after lightly elbowing Nico just to tease the gunsmith. “Just like we tolerate the smell of your cigarettes.”

“Hey, at least I’m not turning into a fuming creature blasting demon viscera everywhere!” Nico pointed at Lady with her cigarette between her fingers, making all of you laugh. “Must take days to get those things off your hair!”

“Sometimes, it takes even weeks!” Dante’s voice added from outside of the van, entering soon after to take his seat right by your side. To say Dante would be hovering around you for months, overly protecting you over anything and everything, was a very mild way to describe his behavior after that evening.

“Ya know, once I found a piece of liver hidden right behind my ear…?” Nero approached Nico as she just glared at him with pure disgust. “Took me days to find it.”

“You’re nasty, demon boy.” Nico lightly shoved Nero out of the way, dismissing all that conversation to go back to the stirring wheel. Nero laughed back, making his way to Kyrie and sitting by her side, cradling her with one of his arms while she rested her head on his chest.

“We couldn’t find more on the origin of their knowledge…” Vergil was the last one to board, closing the van’s door behind him. As soon as he did, Nico started driving back home – and he showed you a few things he had in his hands. “But we did find your gear. I will keep it in a safe place until we get back to the shop.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Verge!” You had genuine relief in your voice, watching as he carefully placed your sword next to him. “I thought I’d never see those things again. Thanks for finding them.”

As always, Vergil didn’t answer, just bowed his head as the perfect gentleman he was. Soon, Dante’s arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

“Huh, so much thankfulness for Vergil, while I was the one who saved your ass from that demon lord. I’m feeling a little ignored.” Of course, you knew Dante was only joking – never in all your time together you picked up any sign of jealousy he could have of you and Vergil. Dante was very secure about your relationship, knowing quite well where your heart rested – he would be insecure, sometimes, when it came to other humans.

“Oh, c’mon. How can I not be thankful when it’s my gear we’re talking about?” You raised one eyebrow, teasing him back – which only made Dante smile. “Now being a little more serious, it was rough being stripped of everything. Even with that hideous frilly attire, I felt completely naked. There’s no way for me to defend myself without all my stuff; I don’t have demonic blood running through my veins to go into a rampage and kill every single living thing in front of me.”

“Well, lucky for you, I got that goin’ for me.” Dante brought you even closer, tightening his half hug around you.

“Hmmm…” You took some time to take in his scent, this time directly from his neck, right in front of you. Yes, all those things you mentioned before, but you could always find the woody and musky Dante scent underneath all of that. And maybe it was that which made you feel so comfortable and secure. “I was scared. I was running out of options when you showed up.”

“Shhh, don’cha think ‘bout that, pretty eyes.” Whenever you voiced how uncomfortable you were with something, Dante immediately started caressing you just to at least make you feel physically comfortable again. And you had to say, it always worked.

“I know, I know… It’s just… I know I can always count on you to appear at the direst of moments, no matter where I am.” With those words, you placed one of your hands above his heart, making those sky blue eyes look back into yours. “I know you can hear me call, no matter what.”

“It’s part of the demon thing, babe.” Even though he was happy with that, Dante had a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe… But demons don’t show up to save desperate souls who are praying for them when all other options have failed.” You brushed aside some strands of dirty hair that insisted on covering those beautiful eyes – now looking at you with curiosity and admiration. “Do you know who do?”

“Hmmm…?”

“Angels do.” Your answer was but a murmur, even quieter than the engines of the van. “You are my very own guardian angel, Dante.”

Lady once said that, somewhere out there, even a devil may cry when he loses a loved one – but you would dare to add that devils did cry when they were loved back.

Your red devil was living proof of that on that Halloween night.

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #dante x reader #dante imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc dante #dante sparda #devil may halloween #the ripping the dress apart scene #I'm SUCH a fan of Zorro #and Antonio Banderas does that with Catherine Zeta Jones in the 1st movie #BOOM one of my fave things right there when I saw it for the first time #Dante was raised on Zorro and I'll die on this hill #alsoooo couldn't resist making Erlach a character that may or may not appear again #something about having a demon lord fall in love with Dante/Vergil's s/o sounds so funny to me #I have to make that a recurrent theme #and the 'I'd love you even if you were a rock with googly eyes' is indeed a reference to Everything Everywhere All At Once #just recently watched with my mom and was devastated and happy at the same time #some people we would love even in the rock dimension #I hope you guys like it!! even if it took forever to post!! T-T

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actuallysaiyan · 2 months

Note

hiiii,

May I request the valentines day request with vergil sparda x f!reader (dmc5 version) with this prompt [Reader/Character writes their loved one a Secret Admirer’s note and tries to deliver it discreetly. They are caught by their loved one!]

Where reader writes vergil a love poem or a confession and tries to tuck it like under his room door but he happens to be heading towards it and catches her off guard? They are not in a relationship but reader has feelings for vergil and considered the idea of confessing through the letter because she is shy :^ anyways so they encounter and reader quickly retreats shyly to her room where vergil then comes up to her to confess after reading the letter? Could be SFW or NSFW after the last part.

Totally love your writing, feel free to ignore it a shorten it if it's too much.

Love ya, xo.

(Also if u don't mind I want to be anonymous because I'm shy and anxious sorry for that :">)

warnings: smut, love confessions, mentions of crying, Nero's mother is slightly mentioned, cunnilingus/oral sex(fem receiving) word count: 1.1k pairings: Vergil x Fem!Reader summary: you write a sweet love letter to Vergil and are so nervous about him finding it. when he does find it, he's so touched...he shows you his true feelings through actions.

You keep rereading those words on the page. Your hands are shaking. Though you know that you won’t be getting a response right away, even just the thought of sliding this love poem/confession under Vergil’s door was making you so nervous. You had thought about doing it this way for weeks. The eldest Sparda twin had very much caught your attention, and the only way to confess to him perfectly would be to write him a love poem. Sure, you were no William Blake, but you knew he’d appreciate the sentiment regardless. That was…if he felt the same way. If he didn’t feel that way about you, you’d have to quit your job as Dante’s secretary and run very far away from Devil May Cry.

With a deep breath, you get up from your bed. Vergil had been on a mission all morning and well into the afternoon. Coincidentally, that was the time it took you to really get the nerve to even begin writing this letter. It was beginning to eat at you too, especially as you continue to reread it and desperately want to make corrections. But you know it also comes from the heart and that means everything.

So you tiptoe across the floor and open your room door. You peer outside into the hallway, looking for signs of anyone. When you don’t see any flashes of white hair nor do you spot Lady, that’s when you make your move. You grasp the letter and you walk a little further down the hallway, finding Vergil’s room door.

It’s silent save for the beating of your heart and the rushing of blood in your ears. It’s so frightening because you have this sinking suspicion that he’s going to find your letter and he’s going to toss it away. He’ll probably laugh at your sad attempt to write the literary man some kind of pathetic poetry. He won’t even look at you anymore after this, prompting him to ask Dante to kick you out.

You almost lose your nerve again when you crouch down to slide the letter under the door. Just as you’re getting back up, you notice someone is in the hallway with you. As you turn around, you come face-to-face with the man in question. Vergil cocks an eyebrow when his gaze meets yours. Your heart nearly stops as you try to come up with the right thing to say.

“Can I help you with something?” He asks, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

You shake your head, “N-no…”

You scurry away; you feel like you could faint. This was all so intense and you couldn’t believe you actually slid the letter under the door. He was seconds away from reading your confession. Seconds away from reading the contents of your heart. You couldn’t even think straight as you managed to hide yourself in your room.

For a few moments, you dive right under the covers and hide from the world. You try to convince yourself that your blankets will shield you from the rejection that is sure to come from this. And it keeps you safe and hides your tears as you feel them sliding down your cheeks. You were almost certain that Vergil wouldn’t even be the slightest bit interested in you.

Oh but you were so wrong about that. Through time and perseverance, you managed to capture the heart of the eldest Sparda twin. Even the first time he met you, he thought you were the sweetest thing in this world. A ray of sunshine in the darkness that loomed in his heart. He had his eyes on you from the very beginning, something that made his brother tease him to no end. Yet, Dante had swore not to meddle in the love affairs of his twin.

Vergil found your letter immediately as he stepped into his bedroom. He opens it up and reads it, leaning against his now closed door. Tears well up in his eyes as he reads the beautiful poem. You had reached into his chest and stolen his heart. It was almost too much. He wasn't even sure if plain old words could even be considered good enough to tell you how he felt.

After a little while, he decided to just go talk to you. He was beginning to think maybe just being able to be open with one another could help. Vergil knocks on your door, and you’re startled. Was he coming to reject you? You take a deep breath once more and open the door for him. His eyes widen when he takes in the sight of you.

“I…I…” he starts, but can’t even continue.

You gasp as he pushes you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. His large hands cup your face and he pulls you in for the most passionate kiss you’ve ever felt in your life. It’s soft and sweet, but there’s a lingering hunger in it.

“My love,” he says between heated kisses. “Your words have ignited a fire in my heart.”

You gasp when you feel his large hand enveloping yours and placing it over his heart. You feel the way it races just for you. Then you two meet in another sweet kiss, but the hunger lingers in this one as well. He guides you towards the bed, and within too much fuss, he begins to undress you. It’s slow and passionate, and you don’t feel pressured at all.

He tenderly spreads your legs, watching you through hooded eyes. You’re so beautiful like this. The soft lighting of your room makes you look almost like a painting. He then leans in to kiss your lips once more, making you feel lightheaded and breathless. Your eyes meet his gaze and he smirks as he begins removing his gloves. Then you let out a soft moan as his bare hands massage your thighs.

“May I taste you, beloved?”

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to squeak out a “yes”. Vergil smirks at you, but it’s a genuine smirk. Then he spreads your legs, lowering himself onto his stomach between them. The smell of you makes him a little dizzy as he leans in to taste you. The moment his tongue touches your folds, he knows he’s done for.

He’s not ready to let you go.

Long languid laps of his tongue from your hole to your clit have you squirming beneath him. His name falls from your lips in soft pants and desperate little mewls. Vergil has never felt more hard in his entire life. This was all new, and yet there was a familiarity to it all. He wonders how he could have ever pulled himself from Nero’s mother if this is what it was to pleasure her.

He manages to push those thoughts away and focus solely on you. Just the sight of you being pleasured was enough to make him grunt against your wet skin. Your whole body feels warm, your eyes are rolled back in your head and your chest heaves as you pant to catch your breath.

“You are mine, my darling. All mine.”

#bacon.writes #vergil x you #devil may cry vergil #dmc vergil #dmc5 vergil #vergil x reader #vergil sparda #devil may cry x you #devil may cry x reader #valentine's day 2024

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bloodcasket · 1 year

Text

A BEGINNING, AND AN END

PAIRING: Vergil Sparda x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: Not proof-read, angst, mentions of readers death, depression, loss, loneliness, a relationship that is crumbling.

WC: 1,650

DESCRIPTION: Vergil wonders what exactly he did that made him lose you. He breaks as he realizes his mistakes, and that he will never be able to hold you again.

A/N: This work was rushed!!!!!!!!!! I literally just had a vomit post of all my sad little ideas. Currently hyper-fixated on Vergil! Probably will write more for him. I imagined this concept last night, and I kid you not, I cried.

Marriage was a concept created for foolish beings who wished to bind themselves to one another. When Vergil lived through his life, blinded by a pursuit of power, such things like marriage were nothing but a stupid scheme.

Why would he wish to be controlled by someone? Tied down to them? Love was nothing. Love was idiocy. That is what he thought, after all.

Then you came.

A human, young and kind. You placed your hand in his, pressed your silken lips along his bruised knuckles, and kissed his ruined skin. You promised him love. You showed him peace. You introduced him to light and laughter and mirth.

It was then, after the many days of holding you and growing to love you, that he realized why people did such “foolish” traditions. He grew weak with you. Became sensitive. Was not embarrassed to be genuine with you. He had finally decided.

He would propose.

You had tears swelling up along your waterline, slipping down your upturned cheeks as you smiled, you sobbed the words “Of course I will marry you”.

He married you.

The marriage was simple, no one but you two to promise yourselves to each other. He had found an old church to hold the ceremony, the ceilings tall and pointing to the sky. The tinted glass waned bright colors over your bashful face, your eyes glittering with devotion before you leaned in to kiss him. A kiss to ensure eternity.

Your fingers trembled against his as he slipped the wedding band on, he had not realized his cool façade has cracked along with yours. He was crying with you, so ecstatic to finally have someone who can understand him.

Someone who won’t judge him, someone who will tell him it will be okay. To hold him close in the night when he had nightmares. To lay their head in his lap as he read out his favorite poems.

“Vergil, stand over by the tree! I want to take a picture of you!” you giggled happily, face contorting into an expression that can only be described as glee. You held up your camera, adjusting the device to be suited for the brightened, summer day.

“And what for?” your husband seemed annoyed, looking at you with a nonchalant grimace. “Because I want to capture memories, now go, go!”. You shooed him away, begging him to find purchase near the weeping willow tree. It’s arms swaying in the gentle breeze, faded green leaves swooping overhead, tangled moss falling to the soil.

He obeys, acting as if this was something pointless, but internally, he was blissful, full of pride at the acknowledgement of your adoration. He stands, watching as you snap the picture, and then returns to your side gracefully.

“Well? Was that to your liking?” he asks, leaning down to see the picture, and you nod with a grin, telling him “thank you”.

This was something that became quite frequent. You had recently started to indulge in art, and had brought up to him that you would paint his portraits.

And paint you did.

Your works were wonderful. Your art room his secret sanctuary. A gallery of only him, painted with oils and acrylics, colors that portray him to be a god amongst this tiny Earth.

Inspired by a simple, small photo of him. A photo that is always captured by you.

You enjoyed comparing his white hair to the color of a rich magnolia. Consistently painting him alongside the elegant flowers. You had told him once that they reminded you of him. They were sensitive to the human touch, turning brown from the oils of a selfish finger caressing it. They were independent, and were beautiful while they kept to themselves.

Just like him.

Relationships are hard. He understands this. He knows that if he does not give enough, the ones he finds dear will crumble away. Loyalty, honesty, generosity, quality time, devotion….. so much he must do to keep you satisfied.

He tries, he’s a perfectionist, but when you two wander in public, see the other couples mold into one another, he feels ashamed. He does not like to hold your hand in public, and he feels tense when you initiate certain intimacy. You would get bored of him, wouldn’t you?

He admires how easy you make it look, how you strip him of his clothes, settle him in the tub, speak reassuring words of praise as you scrub the grime off his beaten skin. He relaxes under your touch, wonders why of all people, you chose to be with him. How you don’t hesitate to bend to his will, run miles to retrieve whatever he wants. Speak honeyed words, just enough to make him melt.

You’ve helped rid his nightmares, you’ve made him feel alive. He only dreams of bliss, of divine moments shared with you.

Moments like you and him, taking pictures under the willow tree.

But yet, he cannot even find the courage to move forward. To give you the smallest things you desire.

He grows sour. For once, he feels powerless. Inferior.

He can never give you what you want.

Recently he has grown colder to your touch. Shallow and incoherent with any simple notion.

You will try to reach for him, your pinkie grazing the side of his firm hand. He only tugs away, resisting your affection. You will plead to bathe him, massage the ache in his shoulder blades. He only denies your wishes to care for him.

Your paintings become more erratic than before, a sense of gloom in their glistening wake. A sheen of desolation hidden amongst the thick lines of paint. You have lost inspiration. His divinity and blue aura that was once captured by the bristles of your paintbrush are now fading into a melancholic art piece.

You are afraid you have lost him.

You two seem to get in an argument one night. It is after an awkward vent of your feelings to him in the library.

“I miss when you loved me”, is what you confess.

Vergil shouts selfish comments, says he prefers to be alone. Says you bother him too much. Says that maybe marriage was the wrong decision. He does not mean these things. But you have taken them to heart.

You start to cry, the whites of your eyes now bloodshot. Hiccups erupting from your lips. Sobs that beg him to take all his words back.

He doesn’t.

“Fine” you sniff, “I will let you be “.

A sickening feeling blooms in him when you leave, your bag tossed over your shoulder.

When you pass it is like no other.

He felt it burn through him. Regret. Guilt. Loneliness. He knew something had went wrong.

Your body had been found on the streets, bloodied, bones shattered, arms disfigured. You had tried to put up a fight, that was for sure. It made him sick. He felt numb. Practically in denial of your death. Of your murder.

He could have saved you…..he promised you. You have given him everything he wanted, and yet this…he couldn’t even prevent this from happening.

Your face, swollen and bruised. Eyes blackened and cheeks cut open. Your soft lips, never to kiss his again.

If only he hadn’t been selfish, you wouldn’t have went out that night. You could have been here, with him, embracing him. Telling him that you loved him for all eternity.

The wedding band was still firm on your finger, your blood thick over Vergil’s name engraved on the ring.

Vergil kisses you one last time before your body is sealed in it’s coffin, a wooden box that shall keep your remains concealed forever. Your lips are so cold now, lifeless and chapped. Lacking it’s warmth and tenderness that you usually carried.

A part of him regrets kissing you. Your frozen face and your icy touch will now haunt him for the rest of his life. Terrorize his dreams.

Just a couple of months ago you two had stood in the old Victorian chapel, the stained glass casting an array of colors over your gentle smile. The beginning.

The last image of you is an image of death. They are lowering you into the Earth, shovels tossing dirt over the wooden case. An end.

Dante has offered that Vergil should stay with him, get away from the home that he once shared with you. His brother figured it would be best, a solution to rid him of his sorrow. The elder refuses every time.

Your presence…your glow. It still is fresh, and alive in the walls of the home. He must stay. He must stay for you. Sometimes he swears he hears your voice in the halls, your sweet tone making him panic and get up, just to realize he is only imagining it. He is only imagining that you are not gone. That you are still here with him.

He still visits your grave, as often as he possibly can. In the meantime, he tends to the tree he has planted in your garden, a magnolia tree that is fresh and desperately trying to grow. He wished he could show you.

There had been one night where he had a nightmare, images of you screaming and crying his name, pleading for help as you died, crimson leaking from your lips as you sputter blood.

“Vergil! Help me!”.

He wakes in a cold sweat, so terrified that it genuinely shakes him. This vision had stayed clinging in his dreams ever since your death, never sparing him mercy.

On nights like this, he rushes to enter your art room, sitting amongst your wooden work chair, now too restless and shaken to attempt to sleep again. He knew if he tried, he would only be met with the image of your lifeless form again.

He sits there, your painting of him underneath the willow tree sitting proudly amongst your art desk. You had told him it was your most prized possession. Your best work. He thought so too.

He cries your name under the glum luminescence of the moon.

He decides this time, he will paint you. No matter how bad he does it, your beauty will always bleed through.

#vergil x you #vergil sparda x you #vergil x reader #dmc x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil angst #dmc5 x reader

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dmc-brainrot · 6 months

Note

vergil x reader any gender wholesome cuz i don't think that man really knows what sex is even if nero is a thing

Eternally Soul Bonded

Vergil (DMC5) x Yamato! reader

warnings: reader is a humanoid version of Yamato, reader is also a bit obssessed with Vergil (mild yandere behaviour?), cussing, a bit of angst, fluff

summary: after opening a portal two decades ago, Vergil has lost his most prized possession, his sword. What he doesn’t know is that it had been reformed as a humanoid somewhere around the world, and that it was ready to be with him again.

word count: 2.5k

a.n: I don’t know if you wanted wholesome sex or just wholesome, but this is what I cooked up. Sorry if it’s a little disappointing? I’ve had this idea brewing for a bit and there’s definitely room for expanded lore, so if you liked this, you can send me another ask so I can work more on this!

It was really cold for a while… and dark. You were used to darkness, but this was a different kind. It was lonely out here. When you came to, you weren’t yourself, and you weren’t with who you were supposed to be. You were alone.

You stood and wobbled, not used to this form… You leaned yourself against the damp walls of the alleyway you found yourself in, and noticed a puddle of water beneath your feet in which you could see your reflection. You looked… human? How was that possible?

Your mouth trembled as if you were trying to speak, but no voice came out. Your head hurt, and you could only vaguely remember two things: You were Yamato, and you belonged to Vergil, son of Sparda. Nothing else.

…

“It’s been 20 years, Vergil, knock it off, me and Nero already said we were sorry about what happened to the sword anyway, can’t you let it go?” Dante asked with an exasperated sigh, trying to move around the papers and documents Vergil had gathered over the years in his futile attemps at locating his sword.

“Let it go ? You’re pretty foolish if you think I’ll simply give up on the Yamato, Dante, it belongs to me and me alone.” Vergil snapped back “And it’s solely your fault that I don’t have it with me for the past two decades, so if you could please at least pretend you’re helping for two seconds.”

“I’m not good at pretending, brother” Dante snickered, leaning back against his chair “Besides, your sword has a connection to you, right? Just like mine? If it didn’t find you now, maybe it doesn’t want you anymore or somethin-”

Before Dante could finish his sentence, he was lifted off his chair by the collar, making the chair fall on the ground. Vergil gripped him tight and firmly, an unforgiving gaze painting his complexion.

“Don’t you dare utter another word out of that filthy mouth of yours” Vergil sneered between gritted teeth.

Dante simply smiled, before Vergil let go of him and walked away, leaving the agency and shutting the doors angrily as he left.

“Where is that ray of sunshine going to now?” Nero asked from the couch as he fiddled with his mechanical arm.

“Probably going to look for his sword in the sewers again or something, he’s completely lost it”

…

Vergil wasn’t a man to give up on the things he wanted, especially things that were his by right, like his sword. It didn’t matter to him if it had been two days or two decades, he was determined to recover Yamato, no matter what.

After another week of searching in the surrounding areas, going as far as to go through the entire city and the cities next to it, when he was about to turn back, he felt something.

A spark, almost.

And he knew. It was Yamato.

Frantic, almost desperate, he began to blindly follow that spark… bumping into people, getting his boots dirty, it didn’t matter. He had never felt this close to it before.

It was a rare sight to see Vergil this disheveled and unhinged, but there he was, as he stood by an alleyway, hair having come undone, clothes dirty and unkempt. And so he saw it…but his expression showed disappointment.

“…What is the meaning of this?”

What stared back at him wasn’t his sword, but a person. Unclothed, and human. You.

Despite his expression, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you, as well as relief. You wobbled towards him, stopping just before him to face him.

“….V….ergil?” Came out from your lips like a shaky whisper, and, as if you had spoken for the first time in your life, you touched your lips in surprise from the voice that came out of you.

Vergil on the other hand however, didn’t know what to make of this situation at all. He stared, his eyes searching for anything that could be missing… but he couldn’t ignore the sensation he felt. This… was somehow… what he had been looking for for the past 20 years.

“…This can’t be… Yamato?” Vergil finally asked in disbelief, visibly struggling to make sense of it all.

Hearing that name made your eyes widen. It felt familiar but also strangenly distant. Was that who you were? Something in you told you yes, but at the same time… it was if you weren’t just that anymore.

In a flash, memories came forward… The moment Vergil used Yamato to open the portal 20 years ago, and what happened afterwards. How your body broke and transformed, and you were left in that voidless darkness for however long it had been. That changed you.

The information was too much for you. You felt your consciouness waver, and before you realized, you had collapsed against the man.

…

Once you came to, you weren’t in the alleyway anymore, you were in a bed, and clothed. Opening your eyes slowly, you could faintly hear voices from outside of the room.

“You’ve completely fucking lost it, haven’t you? Bringing in a random homeless person here and claiming that’s Yamato?”

“I wouldn’t have brought a random person if I wasn’t sure, Dante. I’m not insane. I can’t explain it, but that really is my sword. It’s… just… different.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a vision test, brother? Because I sure do not see a sword anywhere in that room.”

“I don’t know how to explain what happened, but the connection is there. I can feel it. I don’t know how or why, but when we met, it… they… recognized me. This can’t be a coincidence.”

“Oh, so let me get this straight, after relentlessly looking for Yamato for the past two decades, you suddenly ‘feel a spark’ that leads you to a dirty alleyway where you find a naked person who mutters your name, and suddenly that just explains that you found what you were looking for? Holy shit, you really did lose it.”

“You wouldn’t understand the type of connection I have to Yamato in the first place, Dante. It lead me to Nero when he took it, and it led me to it again. I just have to understand why it looks like… that.”

“You know what? Do whatever you want, Vergil but don’t get me involved in this. If the police comes knocking by about kidnapping or something, I’m not here.”

You could barely understand what they were saying… but you had a feeling they were talking about you. You sat up, looking at the loose shirt you were given… it had his scent. Your memories were fuzzy and your brain hurt, but you were relaxed… he had found you and that was all that mattered.

After a couple of minutes, Vergil had entered the room you were in, looking thoughtful and rather preocuppied. You watched as he approached you and sat at the edge of the bed next to you. For a few moments, it was silent between the two of you… until he started speaking, finally.

“…Tell me everything you remember.”

You took a moment, something within you made sure you knew that depending on the answer you gave, it’d dictate what would happen next.

“…I was… alone, for a very long time.” You began.

You told him all you remembered… the portal, the darkness, the rift. You couldn’t tell exactly that two decades had passed, but you could definitely tell you had been alone for a while. You told him moments you two had in battle, how you tried to talk to him, to give him strength, to give him more power, but that no matter what, it seemed there was a wall between you that couldn’t be broken, because at the end of the day, you were merely a tool.

You told him how you felt all those times, how you felt when you were apart, but that’s when he raised a hand to interrupt you.

“Stop.” Vergil spoke, clearly convoluted with his thoughts and feelings. “How… do you know about all that? It… doesn’t make sense.”

“…I… have always been by your side.”

“…But you’re not Yamato. I don’t even understand what you are exactly.” He spoke, staring at you.

“…I don’t have a satisfactory answer for you to explain my nature, Vergil.” You spoke rather calmly despite the situation. “…As your tool or not, I had always been capable of feeling. It’s what connected us to begin with. The thirst for power, of growing stronger… it’s what filled us.”

“Stop it.” Vergil stood, troubled. “Don’t talk as if we’re intimate, it isn’t possible we are connected in any way. What do you know about the sword? Where is Yamato?”

“…You feel it, too… don’t you?” You asked, lightly touching your own chest. “…The spark. It’s what reactivated my memories, as well.”

Silence fell in the room again. Vergil simply shut his mouth and turned away, walking out of the room and shutting the door. You stared, leaning back against the pillows and sighing, staring at the ceiling. Truth be told, if you knew of a way to go back to being his weapon, you would do it. But you didn’t understand what was happening to you either. You didn’t know why things were the way they were, but you knew the rift changed you.

You were satisfied with just being by Vergil’s side again, but clearly, that wasn’t something Vergil was happy about. You couldn’t blame him though, he wanted a sword and what he got was a person. You were of no use to him the way you were.

Was… he going to throw you away?

That thought alone made you spring up, leaving the bed and wobbling to the door, opening it. Vergil was no longer there, and you felt a rush of what could only be processed as anxiety as you wobbled through the corridors to try and find him.

You told him everything you remembered, you knew he felt that connection as well, so he couldn’t simply throw you away, right? He couldn’t. He couldn’t. You were his, and he was yours and he just couldn’t do that to you.

“I’m afraid you were right, brother.” You heard him speak downstairs, making your eyes widen. “I think… my obssession with finding Yamato had made me sick.”

You’re filled with rage. How dare he? How dare he discard you as if you were nothing?

In a fit, you jump, and without a second’s notice, your hand is through Vergil’s stomach in a mighty stab. The man gasps.

“W-What….the….-”

“Vergil!” Dante exclaims, before something takes place: Vergil’s Devil Trigger is activated.

It shouldn’t have been possible.

Just as it shouldn’t be possible for his sword to look, act or even present itself as a human.

But there you were… a physical manifestation of Vergil’s sword. You were there, and you were real.

…

4 months have passed since then.

Nero and Dante don’t get involved with you and they had expressed a lot of disapproval once Vergil had decisively shared he’d keep you around a few months ago.

Naturally, Dante didn’t want Vergil to permanently crash in the agency’s building, especially carrying whatever you were with him, so the two of you had to go somewhere else.

A run-down apartment building in a shady part of town was all he could afford, which was not very fitting for someone of Vergil’s standards. However at this point in time, there wasn’t much to be done about it.

“…We should try it again.” Vergil spoke, seeing you on the floor, breathing heavily. “We’re close, I can feel it.”

“…I don’t know how to do it, I don’t know if I can go back to being Yamato again, Vergil.” You shakily responded, looking up at him from where you were.

“You already know you have its powers within you, I wouldn’t have kept you otherwise, you know you can do this” He exclaimed, but backed away once he looked at your face, noticing your expression.

There were small tears in your eyes, you bowed your head. He would’ve left you if you hadn’t triggered his devil form back then? It explained the relentless attempts at trying to make you unlock your potential in these past few months. You thought this was for another purpose… because he did believe you were part of him, that he was simply trying to restore the connection you two had. You understood now.

“…Why can’t you just accept me for the way things are right now?” You shakily asked. “…Back then, I was more than just your sword, I was more than just a tool, we were one.” You gripped the floorboards with your nails. “…Why can’t you see we’re connected regardless of what I am?! What do I have to do to prove it to you?!”

“…If you were truly Yamato, you would know better than to be dependant on such fickle emotional bonds. What we have is tied to our ability to grow stronger. Nothing more.”

“You’re lying!” You shouted, standing and forcefully gripping him by the collar. “…I asked you if you felt that spark I felt when we met and you refused to answer me. Each and every time I ask about our connection, about how it feels for you, you refuse to give in, refuse to let me know what you’re thinking and what’s going on in your head. I know you feel it, and that you’ve felt it all along, so don’t make me feel ridiculous about it when I know you’re not a cold slab of stone like you’re trying so hard to seem to me and everyone around you.”

“You didn’t keep me just so you could figure out if I could go back to being a sword or not. I know you, Vergil… you just don’t want to be alone.” You whispered, before letting him go.

“…” Vergil was silent for a moment. “…You’re weak.”

“…I’m a direct reflection of your inner turmoils, Vergil. If I’m weak, then what are you?”

You could see Vergil’s lips trembling, as if he was trying to think of something to say. But no words came out, only tears. It was the first time you’ve seen Vergil cry.

You lightly approached him again, and wrapped your arms around him. He fell to his knees, and surprinsingly, hugged you back.

“…You’ve never been alone, Vergil. I had always been with you” You whispered, making sure to hold him close.

“…I can’t endorse in these emotions. They make me weak.” Vergil stammered, struggling to contain his tears.

“…It’s just the two of us… You don’t have to be anything for anyone, much less to me. You can just be… you.” You looked back. “…Allow me to just be me, Vergil… allow things to be different.”

You sat there a while.

It would probably take a long time for Vergil to accept the new reality of things. To accept he wasn’t alone, and more importantly, that he was loved by someone.

But it didn’t matter.

You’d stay with him until he understood. You had stayed with him for a long time… and you would stay with him until the ends of time.

In this form, you could be everything Vergil needed. A friend. A partner. Someone he could have an unbreakable bond for all eternity.

#dmc5 #oc x canon #canon x reader #devil may cry #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil x reader #vergil fanfiction #vergil sparda #dmc vergil #dmc x you #vergil devil may cry #ask #fanfic ask #dmc ask

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jellys-compendium · 3 months

Text

Vergil NSFW Alphabet

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Pairing: Vergil x gn!Reader Cw: smut, mentions of spanking, restrains, edging, penetrative sex, biting, hickeys, and the other things that come with the NSFW alphabet A/n: Yay! Some more love for Vergil. I really enjoyed writing these headcanons for him! I hope you like them too!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This will depend on where you are in the relationship. If it's really early on I'm going be honest, this man is downright negligent in the aftermath of sex. After he's come down from his high, it's not uncommon for Vergil to just up and leave you to your own devices. You'd be blissfully fucked out, but still left feeling rather lonely, your hand gliding over the cooling bedsheets at your side as you lose yourself in thought. But as the trust between the two of you builds, and Vergil comes to realize how much he cares for you, he starts to stay. His hands smoothing over the expanse of your skin, lingering over the marks he had left in the midst of both your shared passion. At this point you can ask him for anything and Vergil will bring it to you without question. Water, food, a towel? You need only ask.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Vergil's favorite part of you is your eyes. He's enraptured by how beautiful and expressive they are. Vergil is quite fascinated with how your eyes are such clear windows into your heart. He need only capture your gaze to understand what you are thinking or feeling--much to your chagrin. As for himself, Vergil likes his chest. Mainly because it's the perfect fit for you to lay on in the dark hours of the night. The feeling of your fingers brushing along his chest while your heart beats alongside his, secretly warms the half-demon's heart like nothing else.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Vergil's cum is usually quite thick and abundant. He doesn't tend to release very often which leads him to getting fairly pent up. Whether Vergil's coming on you or inside you, expect that there will need to be some cleaning up afterwards.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not really a dirty secret, but a secret nonetheless. Some days Vergil would prefer to snuggle with you and quietly read or just enjoy your company rather than have sex. It's not that Vergil has a low sex drive or that he doesn't desire you--rather, deep, deep down he feels that those tranquil moments of serene calmness with you are what truly feeds his soul. Sex is one thing, but the way you feel curled against his chest, the soft harmony of your fluttering heartbeat and gentle breaths, how your warmth always manages to seep into every part of him, how calm his heart feels whenever he holds you...it's beyond corporeal, and Vergil finds that those are the moments that heal him the most.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Vergil is not very experienced at all. In fact, he's only ever been "intimate" with one other person, and that was a one night stand. Beyond the surface level "sword goes in sheath", Vergil doesn't really have a clue what he's doing. He's receptive to learning, however he's not so interested in following your lead and instead prefers to experiment. Vergil finds great pleasure in exploring your body and discovering for himself what makes you mewl and your toes curl.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Positions where Vergil can easily exert control over your body are typically his favorite (or at least that's what he claims.). Secretly however, Vergil's favorite position is the cowgirl position. There's just something about watching you grasp at his pecs and shoulders while you whimper and bounce yourself on his cock that makes him feral. It's so intoxicating watching you take his cock inside of you over and over, chest heaving and thighs shuddering as you chant his name, begging for him to touch you more.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

100% serious. Just try to crack a joke in the bedroom. Vergil won't hesitate to leave you high and dry if you start telling jokes while he's trying to make you come.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Vergil's exceptionally well groomed. All the hair on his body is tidy and trimmed to perfection. It's kind of uncanny actually.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, this will change depending on what point you are at in your relationship with Vergil. At the beginning you get pretty much zero intimacy. Once you and Vergil share a deep bond though, he becomes really sweet and romantic during sex (even when he's being a little rough with you). Passionate words about how good you make him feel whispered against your lips, sustained and sultry eye contact as he sinks his cock inside you, pampering your face, neck, chest, and hands with worshipping little kisses. The whole nine yards.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Vergil is adamant that he's beyond giving in to carnal lust in such a shameless way. If he's wanting, he will come to you to satisfy his desires. Vergil's tune changes however, if he finds himself away from you. On those lonely nights where his cock sits hot and heavy in his pants, his mind racing with fevered thoughts of you, Vergil finds himself unable to resist touching himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bet you thought I was going to say BDSM, or restrains, or choking. Nope. Vergil is an audiophile with a fetish for the sounds of sex. The sight of your naked body is arousing enough, but the gentle hitch of your breath when he touches you? The delicious taste of your moans on his lips? The wet squelching of your walls as he eagerly fingers you to climax? The slap of his hips against yours, and the erotic sound of your hot and swollen flesh giving way to envelop and accommodate his own? Vergil is addicted. In fact, Vergil could probably get off just to the sound of your moans alone. He'd go pay hell a second visit before he'd admit that to anyone though.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

This half-demon prefers to have sex in the privacy of your shared bedroom or home. He's not interested in risky public sex or having any accidental onlookers. Vergil's time with you is only for you and himself to enjoy. Outside of the bedroom, Vergil does like to also have you anywhere else that is comfortable. Laying beneath him on the living room sofa on cool, grey, rainy afternoons. Spread out on a blanket next to the fireplace in the study on starless nights. It's quite romantic actually.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Oh, this man is motivated all right. Funnily enough, it actually doesn't take much to turn Vergil on. A suggestive caress or gaze is enough to pique his interest. However, there are certain things that you can do which really drive Vergil wild. Wearing a flimsy bathrobe that barely hides the lacey, baby blue lingerie you've donned beneath? Slyly allowing your hair to fall against his face as you lean over his shoulder, delivering onto him the gentle scent of that lavender and vanilla shampoo you use? Laying naked beneath the covers when he comes to join you for the night? Yep. That'll do it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Being submissive. Vergil doesn't mind if you are on top, but because of his past trauma, he's not comfortable with relinquishing all of the control over to someone else (even if that someone is you). Vergil always has to see an out in case he needs it. He needs to feel some semblance of control at all times, even when he's being intimate with you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Vergil ultimately prefers to be on the giving end. It gives him such a rush to be able to turn you stupid just from lapping at your sex. He was not particularly talented with oral sex at the start, but by taking note of your reactions, Vergil quickly learned how to make you melt in his mouth. Now, Vergil enjoys going down on you, both for his pleasure and yours.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with Vergil can alternate from fast and rough to slow and sensual depending on both of your moods. If both of you are pent up, or if you've been teasing him too much, prepare to get railed into the mattress. On those nights, Vergil will only show you mercy if you beg for it. On the other hand, Vergil can be slow and sensual when he wants to take his time with you. When he's feeling particularly vulnerable, Vergil likes to show you with his actions rather than his words just how much you mean to him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Vergil's not that interested in quickies. If you try to initiate sex while the both of you are in public, in a time crunch, or in the middle of a complex situation, he will flat out deny you. Vergil wants to take his time whenever he's having sex with you. He wants no interference and no distractions so that he can enjoy you to the fullest.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Vergil does like to experiment on what sensations he can give you using his body, but outside of this he's not that big on taking risks. Public or semi-public sex are huge no goes for him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I hope you're prepared because Vergil's stamina seems limitless. He can go multiple rounds, needing very little time to recover between each one. When Vergil is hungry for your touch, you know you're going to be sore in the morning.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Vergil is not the biggest fan of toys. He won't outright forbid you from using them when he's not around, but when the two of you are together, Vergil wants to make you feel good using only his body. Vergil's a bit selfish (and a little possessive) in that he wants to be the only one to make you come.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This man isn't an instigator. Vergil won't tease you unless you start it first--but if you start it? Oh boy. Vergil won't hesitate to restrain your hands, arms and legs, and get to work. Edging you with his fingers and tongue, disciplining you with little punishments in the form of slaps to your ass, hickeys and bite marks along your thighs and neck, driving you so far to the edge that you're shamelessly begging for his cock...

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Vergil is relatively quiet whenever the two of you are having sex. Outside of soft panting and the occasional growl not much falls from this half-demon's lips. However, there are those rare moments where Vergil loses just enough of that control he restrains himself with, and the sweetest little moans will grace your ears.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Vergil loves to bring you gifts. Whether it be books, flowers, jewelry, or little trinkets that he knows you'll appreciate. Vergil isn't very good at expressing his feelings in actions or words, so he tries to compensate with gifts.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Vergil's size is above average. He's thick, long, uncut, and perfect. There isn't a mole or scar that has touched Vergil's skin down there. It's mindboggling, and he's an absolute delight to look at. You have asked him if you could sketch or paint him nude before, to which Vergil's cheeks had flushed pink, and he denied your request outright. Maybe one day you can convince him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Vergil's sex drive is fairly average overall. He does have his periods of...elevated carnal lust, but outside of those he's about as horny as the next guy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends. If Vergil feels relaxed then he will fall asleep with you fairly quickly after sex. However, if something is plaguing his mind then Vergil finds that he has a difficult time falling sleep (even with your soft, warm body next to him). On those nights, Vergil likes to hold you, stroking your hair as you quietly snore away in his arms. He knows that if he gets up and leaves the bed that you'll wake up, worry, and then follow him so that you can comfort him.

NSFW Alphabet Template

#devil may cry 5 #dmc 5 #dmc #dmc5 vergil #vergil sparda #vergil smut #vergil x reader #vergil x you #dmc x reader #dmc x you #jellywrites

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