"I could dress up as ghostface." His voice is flat behind you, yet it nearly makes you jump out of your fucking skin.
"Zo, don't scare me like that!" You clutch at your heart, looking over your shoulder to see him staring over yours. You've got Scream in your hands, Zodyl isn't surprised. You watch it nonstop come October, hogging the store's only perk of being an employee here. A movie of your choice.
"Wait what?" You only just now register his statement, you're not sure you heard him right. It doesn't help that he's practically dressed and styled as Billy Loomis now. Hair that 90s grunge look, wet looking, from a shower or rain, or gel that somehow keeps his hair soft. Dark windswept hair pushed back aside from a few stubborn strands that insist on framing his forehead. Not to mention his white tee, oversized dark jacket, blue jeans and combat boots. You look him up and down, somewhere on him there's a knife, he always carries a knife.
"I could dress up as Ghost face." He repeats, reaching over you to grab the DVD from your hands. Zodyl figures he should put it in the player for you, last time you nearly fell and broke your neck. Converse wet from the rain, slippery and dangerous on the ladder's step.
He'd just barely caught you, looking up at him with scared eyes, a racing heart, and your nails biting into his skin like some startled cat. He liked the smell of your perfume, liked the sting of your claws more.
"You said you don't do Halloween." You pout, rising to your feet as you follow him to steady the ladder, not that he needed it.
"I like Halloween." He loads in the movie, presses play, the opening FBI warnings could buy him a little time of conversation before you're glued to the TV despite knowing the movie front and back.
"Yes but liking Halloween and participating in Halloween activities are two different things." You're holding up two fingers to prove your point, other hand on your hip. His eyes take a moment to drink you in, he never noticed your body before. Not until you literally fell into his arms a few months ago. Soft, pliable body pressed against his in the princess carry pose you always sighed about the times you watched the romcoms he didn't care for.
Black skinny jeans hug your frame today, your usual gold chain choker made of hearts and stars paired with another man's hoodie.
Zodyl swallows thickly, he doesn't understand the feeling clawing at the inside of his chest, normally the underlying feeling of rage comforts him. Lately it felt off, different. He wants to rub his thumb over the old scars and roach tattoo on the inside of his arm for...comfort. Ghostly sensation of soft pads caressing over rough skin.
Old burns and angry raised slashes gifted to him by barbed wire, rusted gaps in fences and broken glass.
He expected pity, shock, or repulsion then, just as everyone before you exhibited.
Instead he got something else, a sadness to your eyes, a softer touch. A trace of the ink that did nothing to hide the scarring. The crow your fingers went over smoothly, as if you were petting the animal itself, while the roach you went over slowly. Carefully, lost in thought as you blinked down at his skin.
His fingers had twitched, he suddenly felt vulnerable, as if your eyes could see what others couldn't. He wanted to pull his arm away, to rip his jacket you'd finally settled in away but Zodyl was numb to instinct now. Feelings do not brew or fester, only rage settles in his stomach. Feeding the emotion as a painful reminder of his haunting past.
"A roach?" Your tone had been curious, normally he'd sit in silence and stared knowing eventually people gave up on getting an answer.
But with you, the answer fell from his tongue on its own.
"Practically indestructible, universally hated."
"See I'm right!" Your voice brings him back to the present, his fingers twitching again when he sees the other man's hoodie. Your back is to him now, so used to this one sided conversation.
"You concede with your silence." He can hear the smile in your voice, sharp exhale through his nose in lieu of a chuckle.
"I can participate." He's behind you again as you're now seated on the couch, examining the returned items from the overnight bin making sure the correct DVD was inside.
"As Ghostface? Gonna bring your knife too?" You giggle, leaning back to tap the holster through his jacket. He isn't sure why it makes his veins a little warm, that you remember exactly where it was.
"You could be Sidney, I could press the blade to your throat." The thought slips out as a purr that he immediately regrets. It most likely sounded deadly coming from him. The two of you exchanged a handful of words daily, so a threat would sound anything but playful in his low voice.
Slowly you turn to face him fully, he expects those reactions again. Shock. Repulsion.
Instead he is met with something else entirely. An expression he isn't used to. One that makes a fire start in his empty chest, burning hot through his veins all the way to his finger tips. As if his rage morphed into some unknown beast.
For the first time Zodyl feels his cock stir to life. Watching you look up at him with this unknown expression, fingers fisting the old fabric of his jacket.
"You promise, Zo?" Pretty voice breathy, uttering that damn nickname that awakened something inside him three years ago. Your intense gaze is locked with his and Zodyl is sure he can see hearts in your eyes.
Suddenly he is aching, throbbing, as he stares down at you with a blank expression that slowly morphs into something new. Something that makes the hearts in your eyes that much bigger. Low purr of his voice as he leans closer, delivered as a delicious threat.
“Toji.” you call out, trying to keep the creeping panic from rising up through your throat to spill out into your words. there’s a pause for a second in the house, a quiet stillness before your ears are met with a familiar tune; a grunt, a shuffle, a slight pause in footsteps before a crack of bones, another grunt, and then more shuffling. you can practically see Toji now, as he stands from the sofa, cracks his back mid stride before he’s headed toward you once more.
he doesn’t bother knocking on the bathroom door, just twists the handle before poking his head in. a thin black brow is raised at you, before both shoot up to his hairline at the sight. you groan, curling in on yourself, careful to keep your hands away from your face.
“what’s going on, sweetheart?” Toji hums, fully inviting himself into the cramped bathroom despite the way you grumble even more. he crouches in front of you and, gentle like a lover—your lover, even with his cheesy old man pet names you always roll your eyes at—pries your hands away from your face. he doesn’t grimace at the blood, despite your hissing when it gets on his skin. “talk to me.”
“this is so embarrassing,” you mumble, groaning again as you knock your forehead against Toji’s. he only presses his skin back to yours, eyes fluttering shut as he presses the barest kiss to your nose.
“nothing’s embarrassing when it comes to you, baby.” and he’s so sure of his words. why wouldn’t he be? you’re sure he’s seen more blood in his lifetime, that he’s not so little of a man that he’d be grossed out by the blood that stains your hands and inner thighs. “what is it?”
you grow quiet for a second. eyes clenched shut before they’re coaxed open by Toji running his nose along your cheek, by his featherlight kisses to your mouth, the squeeze of your wrists in his thick palms.
“my tampon is stuck. inside of me. I can’t get it out.” the words feel like a punch to the gut, like humiliation might cloak you and hide you in its skin. but Toji only grunts, hauling you up gently by your wrists as he begins to ease you away from the bathroom. wordlessly, he grabs a dark towel from the closet, hums low under his breath as you can only follow his steps, eyes wide as your feet move without you thinking much about it. you almost feel like a ghost haunting the halls, suddenly made into flesh again when Toji places you in front of him to step into the room first, gentle, guiding.
“just lay down on your back, and I got ya,” he says simple, easy. you want to squirm away from his gaze, want to bat his hands away, curl into a ball of shame and isolate yourself, figure it out on your own. but Toji doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t mind, either. maybe that’s what makes you relax, what helps you into being able to laugh about the situation when it’s over. his gentleness with you, his calmness, the way he kisses the inside of your knee and ankle and thighs, the way he doesn’t mind the mess. because it’s you—nothing about you has ever been a mess to him, it’s always just been another part of you. and how couldn’t he love that?
Fandom: Devil May Cry
No ships, focused mainly on Nero and Vergil, though Dante will eventually show up.
Summary:
Weakened from his defeat as Nelo Angelo, Vergil has been in the grasp of Agnus and used to create the Angelos. Through a twist of fate he manages to get a broken Yamato early, but he's not entirely there mentally. Teen Nero has a no good bad horrible day and gets kidnapped for his trouble.
First | Masterpost
IMPORTANT don't miss the second half of the demon fight, I uploaded it already the day after I uploaded the first cause I was bit by the writing bug, so if you missed it, for once here's a link to previous
-
Nero awoke slowly. He felt like he was drifting on waves, his body heavy, every limb weighed down. He felt so immensely tired, but also completely without pain. He blinked up at the dark sky, the millions of stars visible because they were far from any city or town.
It was beautiful.
He wished Kyrie could see this, she would love it.
Gradually he awoke more, and he realized the reason he’d woken in the pinprick sensation of goose bumps all across his bare skin - which there was a lot of.
He sat up with a shudder, folding his arms around himself and rubbing his arms. It was cold! His abdominal muscles protested the sudden treatment, with a delayed ache. Okay so there was the pain, but his body didn’t feel bruised or hurt, just overextended, like he’d run a marathon and his muscles just did not want to give anymore.
He intended to look around, but only managed to look left due to the looming shadow on the ground; it was the demon’s carcass.
Nero stumbled to his feet, protesting legs not moving fast enough and he nearly ended back flat on the ground - but on only nearly. He walked closer. He had to see for himself, had to make sure.
“Boy.”
The voice startled him and he spun around - he winced, he really should stop making those fast movements - there was his kidnapper sitting by a fire, a little away from where he’d been lying, but that wasn’t the odd thing in the picture, it was the way he was sitting twisted halfway around leaning casually on an arm so he could look right at Nero. Like a real actual human being.
“Berus is dead, you can rest easy,” he continued. Nero glanced back at the carcass, then cautiously stepped forward. Satisfied his kidnapper turned back around to do whatever he was doing by the fire.
Anxiety he hadn’t felt since he was first kidnapped rose up to clog his throat. He had no idea where they stood now. He was painfully aware that running was not an option right now in this state, but even when his kidnapper hadn’t been much more than an automaton, Nero hadn’t been able to escape him. He circled the fire giving his kidnapper a wide berth, until he could see him. The man sat crosslegged, the blade, Yamato, now restored balanced across his thighs.
The sight of Yamato sent a memory of the rush of power through his body and he clenched and unclenched his tingling hands reflexively.
He focused back on his kidnapper - how many times had he sat like that, but with the broken Yamato his sole fix point, now he was looking at Nero. And not like those short moments where Nero had made empty eyes move in his direction, no he was pierced by blue eyes that fixed right on him, sharp, intelligent and present. Nero hunched his shoulders. A frown made it on to his brow and Nero felt the clog in his throat grow thicker.
What was the matter with him?
He quickly sat down by the fire, grimacing in regret at the fast motion, eyes going to watch the flames instead of his kidnapper, though he still felt eyes on him. The heat from the flames was a blessing, though with his back bare it was not enough to feel comfortable and he wrapped his arms around himself.
Of course just a few moments after he sat down he got a lungful of noxious smoke when the wind changed. He coughed, making a face.
“What is that stench?”
Nero had not really registered the smell, used to the general bad smell of the area which now included a demon carcass, but getting it blasted in his face like that was entirely different.
“Meat. You should eat some.” Nero’s kidnapper said simply, indicating a chunk of blackened something close to the fire.
Nero grimaced. He was hungry, but- “I’m not that hungry.”
“That is a lie,” the tone was flat, with something dangerous underlying it, which made Nero bar his teeth reflexively. Nero had no idea what was going on but he was suddenly treated with exasperation. “Do not be so childish. You exerted yourself and you need to keep your strength up.”
“You eat it yourself, if it’s that good!” Nero returned reflexively, but then actually registered the words. His whole body was exerted and now that the thought of food had been put in his head his belly screamed for it. “What even is it?”
His kidnapper looked thoughtful for a moment. “It could be considered pork.”
Nero’s eyes snapped from his kidnapper to the meat to the carcass of Berus in horrified sequence.
“Demon meat? It’s demon meat! Are you crazy?”
“Cease the theatrics, it will not harm you.”
“Uh-huh,” Nero said skeptically rolling his eyes. There was no way he was eating demon meat.
“The fire will have dried it out, removing most of the bad taste.”
“Eat it yourself,” Nero grumbled, what he wouldn’t give right now for real food. One of Kyrie’s empty the fridge stews.
“Very well.”
Nero looked up in surprise, and couldn’t help but watch in morbid fascination as his kidnapper grabbed the chunk and unceremoniously bit off a large mouthful. His face remained entirely expressionless as he chewed and eventually swallowed.
He raised an eyebrow at Nero like a challenge. Nero bristled and looked away. Drawing his achy legs up for the extra barrier. His stomach growled loudly with embarrassing timing. He wrapped his arms harder around himself.
Right now Nero missed when his kidnapper didn’t speak. He had a million questions, but now he didn’t know how to ask them. He was hungry and cold. Before he wouldn’t have hesitated to sit by his kidnapper soaking in the warmth he gave off, but now it was like a completely new person, a stranger. He couldn’t just sidle up to a stranger and sit all up in their space. It just wasn’t done!
He’d gotten used to his silent kidnapper who barely acknowledged him, but whom Nero knew somehow had his back. Now, Nero didn’t know how to act. He had no clue where the boundaries were and the first thing the guy did was try to make him eat demon meat. He grimaced into his knees.
The worst part was that Nero was so hungry he was considering it. It smelled terrible yes, but the guy had not reacted in any way at all when eating it. Maybe it wasn’t so bad?
He was wracking his brain trying to figure out if he’d ever heard stories about people eating demon meat, once again wishing he’d listened more closely in the lectures. He couldn’t remember anything. Still, it felt like something that would put a curse on you.
“Are you sure it isn’t bad?” He mumbled quietly, kinda hoping it was too inaudible to hear. No such luck.
“It’s just meat, it isn’t poisonous.”
Just meat, Nero sighed, and repeated the phrase again and again, as he reached out and was handed the large chunk. Just meat. His stomach turned as he considered it and he breathed through his mouth so as not to smell it, but even so there was something rank about it, like a noxious miasma.
He closed his eyes and raised it to his mouth and took a bite, through the sinewy and charred exterior. He had to tear and rip at it to even make it come loose. He chewed and instantly regretted it - a taste like rot and sewer welled up in his mouth, his stomach roiled and he hurried away from the fire until his couldn’t handle anymore, he fell to his hands and knees and his stomach emptied itself, expelling just sour stomach acid that burned in his throat and mouth as it washed out the demon meat.
Nero coughed and folded around his abused gut muscles. That was not an experience he wished to repeat. The smell of his vomit was threatening to set him off again, he rolled away. He didn’t have the energy to stand right now. He’d just lie here a moment, get his strength back. He could stand the cold a moment even if it was miserable, he had no choice after all, his body refused to move.
Soft footsteps made their way across the forest floor and Nero had a flash back to another time he’d been cold and pained and miserable - he wondered hysterically if he was about to be dragged across the forest floor again.
“Child,” his kidnapper sighed above him, he bent down and grabbed his wrist - Nero had a moment to think this was it, he truly was getting dragged again, but then he was suddenly pulled vertical, his arm getting slung across his kidnapper’s neck as another hand landed at his waist to support him. And then they were walking. His kidnapper was so tall, he had to walk hunched to support Nero, it couldn’t be comfortable.
Nero clenched his jaw and looked away. He was fifteen years old, he wasn’t a child. This moment though he really felt like a child.
Yamato was laid on the ground next to the fire. His kidnapper had left the blade to pick him up. Suddenly his eyes burned, fuck if Nero knew what was going on with his emotions today, but it felt - it felt significant somehow, like Nero mattered. He sniffled and covered his face with his free hand, he’d nearly died today, yesterday? It didn’t matter. He’d nearly died, he was exhausted physically, emotionally.
He was supported into sitting down, and his kidnapper sat right next to him and Nero didn’t care anymore, he leaned into his warm side and let the tears trickle slowly down his cheeks. His kidnapper shifted, but then something that had never happened before happened and an arm settled around his shoulders, holding him gently in place. He stared wide-eyed into the fire.
The enveloping warmth was rapidly making him drowsy, as if it really only had been the cold keeping him awake. He blinked.
“How did you eat that without making a face?” He asked, both because he was curious, but also mainly in an attempt to stay awake.
There is a long silence, to the point where Nero thought maybe he would not get an answer.
“I’ve had worse.”
Nero was uncomfortably reminded of the way Berus had mocked his kidnapper during the fight, the things he’d said and alluded to.
“That’s really messed up, you know that?”
Another silence.
“I suppose.” His kidnapper sighed. “It would have helped you if you could keep it down.”
If you say so, Nero thought at his kidnapper. His eyes drooped into a slow blink. The world was so fuzzy.
“But perhaps you are too human.”
If Nero was more awake, he might have questioned that statement, as it was his eyes finally gave up their struggle to stay open.
-
This is for @stashoflostsouls who put the idea of Vergil offering Nero demon meat into my head XD It's possible it may have happened anyways, but my plans weren't that specific and I certainly couldn't get the image out once it was there (not that I tried). Ah, poor Nero, but at least he's sorta getting cuddles.
As always if you enjoyed and have the spoons for it, I'd love to hear your thoughts either in replies or tags. Hope you're eating better than Nero out there <3
👆 I'm only opening 15 slots to cover household expenses.
I still have a lot of pending orders! So I can't take any more for now
Please choose a pose you like, keeping in mind the size difference between the characters. Changing that it's not difficult, but it will complicate things and delay me, creating a snowball effect for everyone else waiting in line.
If you request these kinds of changes, please keep in mind that your delivery dates will change, and you'll have to wait longer.
The other versions are also enabled!
They're new to my catalog, which I'll update at the end of the year!! ( a new commission catalog hehehe)
However, I'll only be open unti
You could often find Dante napping on the couch at Devil May Cry with a magazine over his face but you don’t often get to see him in a deep, comfortable sleep in the sanctity of the office turned actual bedroom. Only ever with the sleepy fox on his arm.
Even if his snoring made her a little restless, they still sleep pretty comfortably
Alpha!Katsuki who is so agitated and aggressive although protective of Omegas even if their scents bother him. Roughly keeping them at arms length and openly snarling or grimacing at their scents as he saves or even just interacts with them.
Then there is you, an Omega who acts like an Alpha. Your scent is as strong as an Alpha, you're just as aggressive and have plenty of scars on your throat to show it. When someone thinks of a "traditional" Omega they think the opposite of you. In fact most people already assume your subgender is Alpha, you never correct them.
But you're not, you're an Omega. One with conflicting feelings of wanting to be soft and cozy but can't bring yourself to be less than combative. One who has several nests around your home in all your most comfy spots piled with blankets and stuffed animals you treat with care. An Omega who's given in and stolen her boss' smokey caramel shirt after a workout despite saying you can't stand his scent. An Omega who can't resist the urge to shove it into the nest on your bed as slick gathers between your thighs, naughty fingers toying with your throbbing clit through the fabric of your underwear until you're cumming so hard and so often you're panting. Borderline throwing yourself into a heat over his stupid sweaty shirt because his scent makes you feel safe, soft.
It's tempting to call out the next day but truly you were his front line, he hired you because of your bad attitude and snapping teeth. Because you could and would stand up to an alpha three times your size that demanded to see Katsuki even when they didn't have an appointment. You could handle yourself and you've proven it. Plus what Katsuki will never admit out loud is that he likes the way you smell, loves it. To him it makes sense he's only ever bedded two people and both were Alphas like he thinks you are.
Yet when you come in reeking of distress, shame, and arousal Katsuki finds his body moving on its own.
Pulling you by your lower back until your pelvis is flush with his before you can protest even as you lean away and accidentally expose your throat to him. His nose goes straight to your scent gland, inhaling to make sure it's you that the distress is coming from. The arousal
"Bakugou." You try to push him away but as the number one pro he's much stronger than you, not to mention his scent gland is right by your nose now. His spiced scent sweetening in an attempt to make you relax, pheromones he doesn't realize he's releasing as you fight your body from going slack in his hold.
On lookers stare and when bromine eyes meet them they flare. Lifting his face so they can see him bare his teeth as he pulls you into his office.
"Ya outta suppressants?" He growls and all his voice and strength do is spur on more and more of that arousal that wafts off of you in waves. Sweet floral spice that makes him dizzy as he tries not to get hard. He should let you go, he should step back, but he can't peel himself from your body. You feel good in his hands. Soft, round.
"I don't take any."
"Ya can't go into a rut in my office." He snarls but his lips are resting against your collar bones, "I've got extra in my desk."
"It won't be a rut." Your skin feels hot, so hot and with Katsuki smothering you it's only worsening the effects, the shame that burns when you admit out loud to your boss that you never corrected on what you are, "It's a heat."
Suddenly his massive body is rigid, you can hear him swallow thickly three times before you feel the hardness of his fat length against your leg
And that's enough to send any Omega nose first into a long overdue heat.
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