Some spicy Drider!Virgil anxceit for the soul that no one else asked for. Might post a followup sketch following this idea when it comes to what Virgil means by ‘Carrier’ 👀
“After making all that fuss about how you wanted to be fucked hard, you’re whinning like a little baby.” with Virgil doing the fucking on Deceit?
Prompts || Not accepting! || N//S//F//W
Warnings: Noncon elements, dubcon, abusive / rough themes, unhealthy relationship, uuh one large fuck me up fam.
Janus has been at this all day, hardly getting more than a scornful look for his efforts. But, he is nothing if not tenacious, someone like him has to be, after all. The effort to convince one to lie, to present that lie as truth, it all takes an awful lot of work, so yes, Janus is determined, but he is not patient. Perhaps that’s why he resorts to less refined tactics. . . not that Virgil is unused to any of that, either.
The anxious side’s patience is about to snap, and along with it, a very unfortunate liar. But then, they both know that’s the backbone of this plan anyway, the final reward for this twisted game they indulge in. They’ve just indulged too much, someone a glutton for punishment and another a glutton for something. . .equally as damning. Neither of them will ever admit such a thing though, so they continue to dance around each other, pretending that glaring fact isn’t there, until they collide right into each other. . .full force.
Janus’s back hits the wall behind him, knocking the breath out of him with a sharp exhale. Virgil’s hands are like iron around his wrists, and he cracks open one eye to peer up at the other side, but he finds little amusement on Virgil’s face. Janus feels a smirk tug at his lips, and he allows the coy curve onto his mouth, if only to watch Virgil’s jaw tighten. “I swear to god,” Virgil starts, his voice low, dangerous, taking on that timbre that chases a shiver down Janus’s back. “I’ve had enough.”
“Oh?” Janus asks, only not really, just like he tugs on both his wrists, only not really. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m minding my own business,” Janus shoots a condescending glance up and down Virgil. “It’s not my problem you can’t control your own temper.” Janus feels that grip on his wrists tighten, ever so slightly, but that glitter of violet is in his Virgil’s eyes, a brief gleam; a knife unsheathing, just as cold and twice as sharp. It’s a warning, no words needed, Janus still hears the silent “Watch It” that’s spoken from that one look.
“Why don’t I show you what I can control?” Virgil says, his voice dropping, much like his mouth as it hovers by Janus’s ear, a hint of cold, a hint of teeth. Virgil has been stretched terribly thin lately, it really hardly takes any work to rile him like this. Maybe Virgil thinks Janus doesn’t notice those fleeting glances, the curl of his lip that shows off a hint of fang, a hint of hunger. “Oh, I forgot, it’s not my problem you’re too desperate to ask for what you really want.” Virgil smiles coldly, watching Janus’s mismatched eyes widen a fraction, and it’s something Virgil loves so much—watching Deceit get caught, watching him tangle himself in his own lies.
“Fuck you,” Janus hisses, Virgil’s words stealing his breath away just like the hit against the wall had. Virgil’s grin sharpens, darkens, and Janus’s heart is in his throat, the sound almost tangible. . .snap. Virgil descends on Janus’s mouth, the violent, angry action almost undeserving of even being called a kiss. Janus groans when fangs cut across his bottom lip, impatiently forcing entry, and as Virgil’s tongue snakes into his mouth, the tang of blood follows. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, hungry and messy.
Janus tugs harder at his wrists this time, actually trying to get free so he can reach at Virgil, tug at his clothes. Virgil growls into the kiss, the sound rolling like thunder down Janus’s back and prompting him to arch forward, chest gluing to Virgil’s own. There’s a swish of wind, a swoop of his stomach, but Janus hasn’t opened his eyes to watch the rooms change; he can tell by the sudden darkness, the sudden chill, that Virgil has sunk them into his own room. The kiss is broken and they pant into each other’s mouths, the pause so brief, but when Janus blinks open his eyes to look at Virgil, it seems to last forever.
Without warning, Virgil uses the grip he has on Janus’s wrists to yank, drawing a startled cry from the lying side as Virgil shoves him to the side and down onto the bed. Immediately, Janus tries to find his balance, tries to sit up, but Virgil is on him in seconds. His mouth finds Janus’s again, unrelenting as he snags a handful of Janus’s shirt, pulling him in close. Janus’s chest is tight already from trying to catch his breath, and he reaches up to tangle his fingers in Virgil’s hair, dark, darker than the rest. . .
Virgil is shoving clothes off and out of the way, and when Janus thinks he hears fabric ripping, he rolls his eyes. “Desperate loves company, or have you lost control already? Maybe you never even had it—”
A hand wraps around Janus’s throat, cold but steady, and it squeezes. Janus’s voice cuts off with a cracked gasp, eyes fluttering shut as Virgil throws him back down to the mattress and pins him there. He slides off his jacket and shirt where they’re only hanging off him by a shoulder, and Janus lets his gaze drip down Virgil’s body as he prowls above him; he’s coming undone, Janus knows it, has known it. He can always sense it coming, always gets to Virgil first. He’s the only one who can take this side of Virgil, the only one to know this part of him…this part is his.
Virgil feels Janus swallow, throat bobbing beneath his palm where he keeps it clutched around the lying side’s neck, slowly scraping his nails down into green scales. Janus shudders, bucking up into Virgil as that shooting, odd sensation flares at his neck, that feeling Janus can never tell is good or bad, but what he can tell is that Virgil doesn’t care. With careless hands, Virgil twists Janus over onto his belly, keeping one hand on the back of his neck as he briefly stretches away, as if reaching for something. There’s a pause, only for Janus to regain some breath, before he feels Virgil move again.
Virgil settles behind Janus, and with one knee slid between his thighs, forces Janus to spread his own knees far apart. Virgil brings a hand down hard on the pert ass presented to him, and the little yip it earns him makes his cock twitch, slick with the lubricant he reached for. “Bite the sheets,” Virgil growls the warning, far from the mood for bothering with flowery pleasantries. Janus takes it this way all the time, he likes it this way, it’s almost the only way it’s ever done. Nothing slow, nothing gentle, nothing pretty.
Janus opens his mouth, just in time to sink his teeth into the bunched up sheets below him. That warning is the only one he gets before Virgil’s hand is on his hip, and then he’s shoving forward and yanking Janus backwards, forcing reluctant muscles to spread too fast and too rough. Janus screams, teeth grit into the sheets to muffle it, but that does little to ease the pain shooting up his back as Virgil forces himself inside. It aches, it aches hot and deep, and even Janus can feel himself quivering in a struggling bid to relax and try to loosen up. Virgil does still, just for a beat, smoothing one hand up Janus’s back, scratching his nails against scales and admiring black against green. “Always feel so good,” he hisses under his breath, almost to not be heard, perhaps not wanted to be heard.
Janus clings to the blankets when Virgil starts to move, too soon, but he’s not asking Janus. Virgil feels those hot muscles cling tight to his cock, and he shoves himself back inside, setting up for a brutal pace. Each slow pull out is countered with a hard thrust forward that buries his cock in one go, until bit by bit, Virgil is rutting into Janus almost wildly, scratching down the man’s back and not noticing when his nails catch on certain scales to draw blood. Janus does his best, his fucking best, to bite into the sheets and muffle his voice; but he can feel the blankets growing wetter beneath his face, though he tried to ignore his cheeks getting wet.
Virgil hears a choked sob and glances up, panting for breath, but his lips still curve into that near predatory smile. “After making all that fuss to get fucked hard, you’re whining like this?” Virgil says, and neither of them miss the mocking croon to his voice. “You asked for it, this was all you were here for.” Virgil’s voice lowers into a growl again, and Janus flinches when he feels the hands clawing into his hips tighten. Virgil stills, hips shuddering just before Janus feels the other man reach his peak, spilling sticky heat inside. Fuck, Janus hates that feeling. He does.
Slowly, the only slowness of the night, Virgil withdraws, glancing down at Janus’s red and raw entrance as he leaves it a little gaped from the abuse. Virgil slides his hand off Janus’s back, off his hips, and straightens up, leaving the other side to roll carefully onto his side, trembling a bit in the aftermath. Janus winces, aching, sore, thighs closed tight to viciously ignore his own cock. He listens instead as Virgil cleans off, catches his breath, and redresses, all while never sparing Janus a look. “Be gone by the I come back,” Virgil says, and the door shutting punctuates his warning.
It’s always like this. Janus scrubs the backs of his hands over his face, willfully ignoring the sink of his stomach, the throb of his body, ignoring all of it as he struggles to his own feet. It’s his shirt that had torn earlier, he discovers, but he dresses anyway. He can get to his room before anyone else sees; no one will question it, anyway. It’s always been like this. It’s how they do things. Janus doesn’t think either of them want to change it.
Janus doesn’t think either of them know how to change it.
Prompt: ❝ The only part about you that matters is your body. ❞ top virgil with bottom roman???
{Warning: Dubcon}
Roman knows Virgil is in a mood, tonight. The quiet, calculated way he moves, the hungry glances he keeps shooting towards Roman. Normally, Virgil is much more clunky, full of sarcastic quips or the like. When he gets in his moods though, he’s like a storm cloud, and the lightning always comes right for Roman. Virgil saves his worst for Roman, who’s the only one who can take it. That’s alright, though, usually Roman likes the way it hurts. It means he has a use for his master, right? Virgil won’t get rid of him?
Toying with a loose strand on the sheet, Roman waits in the bedroom, shifting uncomfortably. The toy left inside him is a tad too thick, but Virgil enjoys seeing Roman squirm when he’s in the right mood. Roman’s even gone through the trouble of a little makeup, making himself pretty in a way he hopes Virgil will like. There’s not much Roman won’t do to gain Virgil’s satisfaction; it’s a shame Virgil is so greedy with it. Soon, the telltale sound of footsteps starts upstairs, and Roman stiffens, straightens. He looks to the door when it begins to open, hurrying to stand up.
When Virgil enters, the entire room drops a couple degrees. Roman bows, well trained (and aware Virgil isn’t to be trifled with right now) and then looks up, quiet. Virgil gives him a once-over, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You dolled yourself up for me?” he asks, kicking the door shut behind him. Roman straightens when his master approaches, trying not to lean into that cool hand as Virgil lifts his chin, appraising Roman. Virgil hums, before he grabs Roman’s wrist and shoves him backwards onto the bed. Roman lands with a hushed gasp, pushing himself up onto his elbows.
“Undress,” Virgil orders, already working on his own pants. Roman can see, already, it’s not going to be gentle. Still, he complies, not wasting a moment until he’s bared and splayed out on the bed. Virgil’s on him in a second, like a predator finally indulging. Virgil’s teeth find Roman’s throat, biting, and Roman arches his back with a groan. He wears bruises like they’re jewelry.
“Sir,” Roman murmurs, daring to trace his fingers down Virgil’s back. Virgil takes his wrist and shoves it down onto the bed, before he seems to change his mind and instead uses it to roughly guide Roman to turn over. A hand presses on the back of Roman’s neck, holding him, while Virgil’s free hand slips lower. Roman bites the sheets when his master starts to work the plug out of him, lubricant glistening on his hole still.
“Pretty sight,” Virgil exhales the words, and Roman feels his cock hardening. Virgil moves, spreading Roman’s thighs.
Roman flinches a bit. “Sir, please—” he begins, but he never finishes before a hand in his hair pushes his head down. He’s not sure asking for it to be slow would’ve mattered.
Virgil hushes him, lips close to Roman’s ear as he presses the tip of his cock against Roman’s stretched hole. He knows he won’t break his pet, he’s kept ready. Without warning, he thrusts inside, burying his cock inside Roman’s inviting heat, and ignoring the yelp Roman muffles against the sheets. “God, you feel so good,” Virgil hisses, dropping his forehead against Roman’s shoulder. He starts to roll his hips, rocking into Roman with enough force to make their hips smack together.
Roman clenches the sheets in his hands, panting feverishly as Virgil takes him. It’s hard, it’s fast—it’s not romantic, but Roman doesn’t expect that. Not usually. He raises his hips a little to let Virgil fuck him deeper, each thrust pushing Roman’s cock down against the bed so he can grind against it. Roman whines, staining the sheets with pre-cum. Virgil’s hands bruise his slave’s waist, bringing him closer as he fucks into him, feels his tight muscles spasming around his cock.
When he’s angry, Virgil doesn’t last as long. Roman should be grateful, considering how hard Virgil always goes when he gets like this, but a part of him is regretful when Virgil stills, his hips shuddering as he fills Roman to the brim. Roman’s chest heaves, a throaty groan escaping him. Beneath him, the sheets are wet, but he doesn’t even know when he came. Eventually, Virgil pulls out, dropping Roman’s hips and leaving him in his mess.
Roman winces as he rolls over, glancing at his master and reaching a hand out. “Sir?” he asks, hoping he’s appeased Virgil.
Virgil glances at him, cleaning up with a towel that he next tosses at Roman. “Clean yourself,” he orders. “The only part about you that matters is your body.”
Roman drops his hand against the bed immediately, cutting his eyes away. Virgil is rough in these moods, even rougher with his words. Roman pretends not to care, because they’re always like this, snapping back and forth. But still, the words stung. He sits up to clean himself, and Virgil leaves, shutting the door behind him.
Prompt: “Oh fuck, yes. Bite me again.” For analogical with bottom Logan? ~ Anon
———————————–
Virgil does nothing but lazily press kisses up and down his boyfriend’s torso, teasing and testing how Logan reacts to the sensation. Logan squirms obviously beneath him, cock tenting his underwear and pressing against Virgil’s stomach.
“Virge,” he whines out, hands fisting the sheets to try and control himself.
Virgil answers with a hum then a testing bite against Logan’s throat, not hard enough to piece the skin but hard enough to hurt.
Logan moans, loud and lewd.
“Oh, fuck, yes. Bite me again,” Logan begs, practically whimpering.
Virgil obliges, grinning against his skin when Logan keens and arches up.
Okay first off, wrong blog. Second off, fuck you. Third off, I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. If you want good Dom Virgil content I can suggest a couple of blogs that do an excellent job (( @//crankywhenprevoked @//smuttysanderssidestwopointoh for example. I won’t tag them because I won’t bother them in a little rant)) If you want more Dom Virgil Content that’s fine, ask and I’ll let you know of all the wonderful writers that make great content for what you’re looking for. Heck if you send me an ask about it I’d probably consider it, but don’t tell what I should or shouldn’t write. Idk if its the same anon, but like this is the 8th ask me that says this to some variation and I’m tired of it. It’s a lot of the reason I don’t write anymore. If this sounds rude sorry, but I’m kinda done.
Would you be willing to write A/B/O with Analogince from the list with one an omega and two being alphas please? (If that's too many people I can send another ask if you want.)
Source || CLOSED!
1. A/B/O
“God, you’re soaking,” Virgil murmured, his voice gravelly with lust as he nuzzled against Logan’s neck. Already, the pale column of the omega’s throat was littered with hickeys and bite marks, making him almost look mottled. Logan didn’t seem to mind, in fact, Virgil often caught him pressing against those marks with a soft smile, several days after he’d gotten them. From behind Logan, Roman emitted a quiet growl, thrusting his hips to slide his cock against Logan’s entrance. “And you’re impatient,” Virgil chuckled, catching a glower from the other alpha.
“I can only take so much,” Roman groaned, tilting his head to nip at Logan’s ear. They’d been teasing the poor omega for hours, leaving him wet, frustrated, and needy. Roman wasn’t much better, often even more impatient than Logan…the allure of teasing the omega was just a greater reward. It was rare that Logan got like this, barely coherent, red faced, just reaching out for his alphas and imploring them to finally take him, touch him, do something!
“Then g…get on with it!” Logan snapped, though his voice lacked much intimidation when he was so worked up. Virgil smirked, cupping Logan’s face to kiss him slowly, tongue licking over Logan’s trembling lips. “Please…” Logan whispered. Virgil supposed they’d been mean long enough; Logan was probably starting to ache.
“Roman,” Virgil said, glancing up at his other lover. Roman huffed out a relieved sound and put a hand on Logan’s back, pushing the omega forward until he got the hint and settled on his hands and knees. The mattress creaked underneath as they got settled, Roman behind Logan and Virgil in front of him. Roman’s cock was already wet, covered in Logan’s slick, and the omega hardly needed any preparation at this point. Roman rubbed the head of his cock against Logan’s sweltering entrance, feeling Logan twitch, and then he started sinking in.
The sound Logan made was outright filthy. It was a sharp, keening moan, and he thrust his hips back against Roman, taking all of the alpha’s cock in one go instead of waiting. Roman groaned out a curse, gripping Logan’s hips with near bruising strength. Logan was so tight, clenching down on Roman’s cock; it was a miracle he didn’t just come right then. Taking a moment to catch his breath, savoring the feeling, Roman started to move his hips, working into Logan slowly and garnering a whine from the omega.
Virgil cupped Logan’s face, stroking a thumb over Logan’s cheek when he looked up. “You want it harder, baby?” Virgil murmured, his voice sending a shiver down Logan’s (and maybe Roman’s) back. Nodding frantically, Logan opened his mouth, perhaps to beg again, but he found himself with the head of Virgil’s cock pressed against his lips instead. “Show us how you want it.”
Logan opened his mouth wider, accepting Virgil’s cock into his hot, wet little mouth, and sucking hard. Virgil let out a shaky groan, surprised at the suddenness—Logan must really be on the edge. Burying his fingers in Logan’s hair, Virgil held him as he bobbed his head, sucking Virgil down like he was the best thing Logan had ever tasted. Behind Logan, Roman had finally obliged a faster pace, his hips smacking against Logan’s with every thrust forward. Logan moaned, saliva dripping down his chin. He was moving himself back and forth now, pushing himself against both of his alphas, because he just couldn’t decide where he wanted to lean more.
Virgil grit his teeth, hips stuttering as he rocked them forward. Logan’s tongue was pressing against the head of Virgil’s cock, his throat tight every time he swallowed… Virgil cursed when he felt himself on the edge. He wasn’t going to knot Logan like this, Virgil never felt comfortable with an oral knot, despite Logan insisting it was okay. With a shiver, Virgil filled Logan’s mouth, making the omega’s cheeks puff out and some spill down his chin. Swallowing hungrily, Logan moaned his appreciation, tightening down on Roman’s cock. The added stimulation made Roman growl harshly, putting more force behind his thrusts as he slowly pushed his knot into his trembling lover.
Once knotted, Logan finally reached his own end, having satisfied both his alphas. He was shaking hard, whimpering through the orgasm while Roman stroked his back and Virgil carded his fingers through Logan’s hair. With Roman locked inside of him, Logan relaxed, leaning to the side. Roman leaned with him, pulling his omega against his chest to lay with him. Virgil smiled fondly, starting to stand up so he could go get something to clean them all off with. Logan whined, though, reaching out for Virgil. Roman was aiming a rather needy look at him, too.
