Jul 17
I have an unhealthy obsession with his legs
Jul 16
Tomodachi shenanigans
Jul 15
Hello everyone, I am very tired and had a long day, so I decided the best course of action was to write a drabble in my head whole taking a shower, type it up, and subject you guys to character's whose base material I haven't interacted with in two years.
Have Vergil & Trish talk-y talks
Trish zipped up the fire escape, deftly leaping the last length to the roof as she spotted Vergil sitting on the edge with Yamato.
"I thought I'd find you up here!" She called.
"Not many places I can be," he muttered back, "I'm under a strict no-wandering order, curtesy of Dante."
She walked over to sit with him, taking in the remnants of a Dante explosion in the form of empty bottles and an old pizza box. Beyond Devil May Cry lay the restless city. In the distance, a couple sirens wailed as neon lights flickered in and out. The shouting of some young adults wandering around a couple blocks out.
"I assume Dante sent you?" Vergil stated.
"Maybe. Maybe I came of my own volition." She responded. "He's worried about you. He said he was showing you around the area, getting you familiar with the neighbors and location and what-have-you, then you froze up and disappeared."
Trish's voice went cold. "He was worried he lost you again. That you just ran off, never to return."
Vergil sneered, "he always thinks that, the fool."
"I wouldn't call it a fool if that fear's warranted."
"It's not."
"Then why'd you run off?" Trish pressed.
"It's nothing," he brought his hand to his face, blocking her view, "...urgh."
"You're not going to leave until I tell you something." Vergil grumbled.
"And fighting a way out is just going to earn you a tighter leash." Trish confirmed
They sat in silence for a while. Vergil glaring at the street below, trying to figure out an escape plan. Technically, he could leave if he wanted to. Dante was too nervous to push his brother on these topics himself, scared that it would be the straw that broke the camel's back.
But Trish? She didn't have those problems. She knew that Vergil would get all huffy and lock himself in his "room," but was firmly rooted to the shop. He'd grown attached to his, albeit minimal, creature comforts and having Dante around and Nero milling in and out for jobs.
"Did you see those flowers by the streetlamp at the corner?" Vergil asked.
"I tend not to pay attention to city infrastructure, no. Too focused on the people. Why?"
"It's a remembrance of Christopher Atkins. It says he died twenty-some years ago in the purge."
Ah, one of the people who died when Vergil and whats-his-face brought the tower up and opened the gates to hell. Before her time, but damn did it still live in people's minds.
"There's one every few blocks."
"There's one to a car crash victim every few blocks, too."
Vergil scowled. "You know what I'm referring to. I don't appreciate these games."
"Hey," Trish huffed. "You're the one who brought up the frequency of these little memorials."
Be returned to glower at the city, perhaps trying to intimidate it from reminding him of his past, his guilt, his shame.
"I understand what you're getting at. It sucks, I'm sure. Are you going to hide from the dead and those who remember them? Hide from the survivors? If you're gunna do that, might as well shut yourself away forever, right? Better than facing the past."
Vergil hissed, "that's foolish and cowardly."
"I'm glad you recognize that. So now what?"
"What am I supposed to do? It's not like I came bring them back, and I don't think it's entirely feasible to do an apology tour to the city, all surrounding towns, and everyone who's fled to other areas."
"Well, for one, maybe stop freaking your brother out. He tends to go boom." Trish gestures at the debris behind them. "Announce that you're going back to the shop at least."
She paused. "I know he puts up a brave and careless front, but he really cares about you, y'know? He's scared shitless he's gunna lose you again."
"After your death or 'death,'" Trish air quoted, "on the island, he was really torn up about losing you." Dante's eyes were glassy and cold, his movements stiff, running on autopilot. He'd lost his twin for the third and final time, and as far as he was concerned, it was his fault.
"Everything about that time is... hazy. But I remember feeling... disbelief? Relief? Then nothing."
Trish hummed, "I didn't think that Mundus would actually let him kill you. Thought you were too valuable an asset after all the time he spent breaking you."
She paused, taking a breath. While they were on the topic...
"I thought that, if Nelo Angelo was his magnum opus, I would be rewarded for my efforts. Or maybe I just thought it made me important." She started cleaning her nails, a habit she'd picked up from Lady on girl-nights of manicures and thriller movies.
"Then you went down, and I didn't want to believe that I was as much a pawn as you. Just made for some petty revenge plan." Trish huffed. She turned to see Vergil watching her from the corner of his eye.
Trish mused, "y'know, Dante always said that while I looked like her, I'd never be Eva...What was she like?"
Vergil softened a little at the change in topic. "She was loving as a mother should be. a bit...harsh at times..."
Trish laughed, "harsh? Dante always made her out to be an angel, some perfect angel to contrast Sparda."
"Rose-colored glasses, I suppose." Vergil paused. "She was always harder on me, said it was my duty to 'watch over' Dante. Make sure the fool didn't get himself killed."
"As if it's that easy."
Vergil gave a snort of amusement.
Trish looked out at the city. "That's bullshit, by the way. I don't know much about human families, but, you're twins, aren't you?"
Vergil nodded.
"Then how could you be so high and mighty and magically more mature to look after a fellow child?" Trish continued. "Seems nonsensical to me."
"Perhaps, but..." Vergil trailed off, fiddling with Yamato's ribbons.
Trish watched him, the ribbon running in and out of his fingers in automatic motions. Vergil's brow was pinched in deep concentration, trying to figure out his next words. They never came.
"It seems Dante feels the same."
Vergil looked at her, confused.
"You're out here, wandering about acting like the shadows are going to eat you alive and hissing and spitting at everything, and he's trying to make you feel welcome here. Seems like he feels it's his job to keep you safe and out of trouble, now."
Vergil was scowling again. "I do not need to be protected."
"Never said you did. Just said he feels that way too. So, how about you two look after each other, and, oh, I don't know, talk? About the tower, about your childhoods, the qliphoth, Mundus, your fucking pick."
Trish turned to look Vergil dead in the eye, "but you have to talk about something. Got it."
He looked back at her, eyes narrowed.
"Got it?" She repeated, more forcefully.
"Got it." He growled through gritted teeth.
"Good, cause I got a dinner date with Lady and I'm not about to miss it. We're going to the new Thai place in the next town over, I'll let you know if it's any good."
"I don't care."
"Didn't think you would. See you next time, Vergil." And she leaped down from the roof and got on her bike, revving it up and heading off to meet Lady.
Jul 14
Amenities
you convince vergil to let you two stay in a hotel for the night after a long demon-hunting job.
pairing: vergil x reader (afab) wc: 2k warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, wound care, play-fighting, orgasm denial, penetration notes: woke up and thought of this bc i miss my beautiful wife, vergil . anyways, enjoy !! link: ao3
Vergil often detested booking hotels during or after jobs, finding the need for human commodities as a frivolous expense. However, a year of adjusting to civilian life and the last two weeks on the road for this pesky mission, he didn't object this time when you proposed the idea of a night in, already imagining a hot shower and room service. Despite the sideways looks you two got from reception, the keycards were secured and your filthy forms made it up to your designated floor. The room was beige and simple, but it was clean, safe, and quiet—which is all either of you could ask for after such a demanding job.
You stepped in first, coat slinking off to be hung up in the wooden closet by the door. As Vergil bolted the chains, he attempted to follow suit, a wince of pain making my scrunch his features.
“Here, let me,” you mumbled as you turned to help. Stubborn as ever, he stepped back and scowled, the sting of pain revoking his manners.
“I am more than capable of—”
“Let me do it.”
Vergil’s features wilted at your tone, losing his bite and dropping his arms to let you have your way. It’s not that he didn’t trust you, but more than he had gotten so comfortable in your presence that he often tried to find ways of still establishing his individuality. He refused to be seen as anything less, but it was hard to uphold his stuffy values when you doted on him with the utmost sincerity. As you pulled his coat off, Vergil watched you over his shoulder, ocean eyes wordlessly conveying gratitude despite the wrinkle in his brow. With the leather jacket off and away, you could see the slits in his vest where the demon you two had vanquished struck a few good blows in. Led to the edge of bed, he sits down and waits til you’re sat behind him before he starts at the vest’s fastenings.
“It’ll all heal, you know,” he grunts between words, the lining of the vest slowly peeling away from bloodied skin. “I can’t imagine why you feel the need to fret over surface cuts.”
Even so, you watch his back muscles ripple as the vest is shed, reopening the wounds as it peels away healing skin. The inside of the vest was, well, disgusting. Bloodied, with pieces of his flesh stickered onto it, due to the duration of having it on working against his regenerative abilities. You make a face at the nasty sight, sighing as you toss the vest away to the floor.
“Any longer, and we would’ve had to cut you out of it. Again.”
Only a hum of acknowledgement—or dismissal—rumbles back to you. Sliding off the bed, you pad to the adjoined bathroom and wet a rag. You study your own battered appearance in the mirror as the water runs. Dirt darkened your skin, caking into some of the cuts. You looked rough, but never as bad as he usually did; he would never allow you to fight harder than him, to be in harm’s way when he could stand as a shield for you. That wasn’t to say he doubted your fighting abilities. In fact, the only reason you two had partnered up was because of the respect he had for you. But, as emotions and attachments grew, Vergil found it harder to watch you limp and writhe in pain after jobs, much preferring to take the brunt of the damage.
You find your way back to him, seeing him already tending to his wounds himself. He expunges saliva onto his fingers to rub into the cuts, the skin already rebuilding itself as the saliva encourages the swelling to fade—an old trick he learned from a demon many moons ago. Passing the damp towel over his back, he makes a sound in the back of his throat, tense as he goes still for you. Vergil watches silently as you rub away grime from his skin, eyes following the patterned route your hand made with the rag. The rhythmic motions lull your own thoughts away from the present, mind drifting to planning out the next courses of actions after returning from the job. A touch to your face summons you back, eyes focusing to find his already trained on you. Vergil’s thumb swiped over the bone that cradled your eye, gently smearing away a streak of blood.
“Where’d you go?” His voice came out tentative, as if worried his disturbance would upset you. His eyes searched yours to attempt to steal a peek behind them, wishing he could read your thoughts.
You shake your head gently, lowering the rag. “I’m here.”
His stare remained courteous, yet you could tell he wanted to pry, ever the attentive partner. Instead, though, the half-demon sighs from his nose and lets his features soften.
“You fought bravely tonight. I’m beside myself, with how well you’re beginning to carry yourself in battle. I often must force my reflexes to heed and allow you to take point, as you have earned that right,” Vergil’s throat bobs with a faint swallow, finger tips still tracing the side of your face. “Thank you, for being by my side.”
Praise from Vergil is always genuine, and it never fails to make you feel singular. Your eyes crinkle slightly as a smile warms up your tired face. “The blood loss is making you sentimental. But, it’s nothing, really. I love you, and I love fighting with you.”
“And I love you, very much,” He lets his hand slip down to your shoulder briefly before sitting himself up and facing you properly. “Enough to feel compelled to take care of you, now that I am no longer bleeding to death.”
A huff of a chuckle leaves him as he stands, hand pulling you along.
“Up. A shower would do us good.”
—
Between the food in his stomach and the robe warming his aching body, Vergil felt like he could melt through the mattress. He watched the back of your head while you ate, preferring to observe the way you chewed french fries over whatever nonsense you had put on the hotel TV. As much as he enjoyed the rush of endorphins he got from demon hunting with you, he found the quieter part of himself started to crave this kind of intimacy more. There were no expectations or watchful eyes—just the certainty of company and the solace it brought him.
As you licked salt from your fingers, a calloused hand yanked you back towards the headboard. Giggles filled the room as Vergil pulled you to him, his own mouth latching onto the greased fingers with a shake of laughter. Despite weak protests of faux disgust, you didn’t try very hard to stave off the attack, practically letting his coil around you. Long, lean legs cage you in as he releases your fingers, only to bite at your wrist.
“Nuh-uh—you can’t leave now.”
“Get off of me, you freak,” you snort and squirm against him, lamely trying to wriggle free amidst the play-fight. He cares little for your insult, mouthing his way up your arm instead. Laughter mingles between you two until a moan makes you still, hips lips suctioning to a spot on your neck. Blood rushes to the area as he sucks on the tender skin, staccato breaths from his nose puffing over you as he laughs at your complicity.
“That’s all you got? No more verbal abuse or grabbing?” He unlatches from your neck to peer down at your face, flashing imperfect teeth in an exultant smile.
You start to give quick excuses, only to be shut up by a desirous kiss. Your limbs betray you, turning to jelly as he shifts against you, tongue knocking for entry. You greet it with enthusiasm, only to fail at returning the kiss once a hand parts your legs. Eager fingers pet at the growing heat of your sex, gentle despite the obvious intent. When you've proven too pliant to kiss back, he trails his lips back down to your throat, teeth threatening to break the skin.
Vergil pushes off your robe enough to grant him skin-to-skin contact, his own slipping open and exposing an already hardening cock. Deep inhales against your skin fill his senses with your scent, only encouraging him to keep going and feed the need for connection. The hand between your legs alternates between familiar circles and strokes, knowing exactly what rhythm gets you worked up enough without pushing. As you arch into his hand in response, he grinds into from behind, the head of his length rubbing against your ass for much needed friction. Your breathing hitches as your gut twists with approaching, lazy pleasure, head lulled back into him as you welcome the onslaught. Compared to the grit of demon-hunting, this was easy bliss, and you had no problem giving into the temporary gluttony.
Just as your body was about to fall over the peak, his hand withdraws to rest on your hip. A mewl of denial slips out from you as you rut against nothing, painfully close to coming. “God—, Vergil, wait—”
“Patience,” Vergil’s body vibrates with a laugh, low and taunting in your ear as he sucks on the lobe. His hand slides up your front, fragrant with your sex, and holds your chin taut. “I will not deprive you, sweet girl. I merely wish to be selfish, just for a moment.”
With one more nip to your ear, he releases your jaw to guide his cock behind you to your warmth. His breath ghosts over your shoulder as he pushes himself in, silver strands of hair tickling your cheek. Vergil hides in the privacy of your neck, thankful you’re unable to see the look of relief on his face as he bottoms out. Your hips urge him to move with little syncopated rolls, walls throbbing around him from the previously stunted release. If you two were home, and the day hadn’t been so long, he might’ve prolonged the moment, dragged out the denial til you were sputtering tears for him to kiss away. But, god, you were so tight, and so very warm—he couldn’t fight it.
“Oh, I missed you, missed this,” the words come out muffled against your skin, his hands returning to your hips to grind into you. Calloused hands flex against the supple flesh of your hips, adjusting his grip as he works up to a steady pace behind you. The hotel bed moans with you as you stretch back towards him, jaw slacked as the coils of an orgasm curl back up. Vergil pokes his head out to accommodate your head leaning back, opting to watch your lashes flutter.
As his fervor increases, he snakes a hand under your thigh and lifts your leg, allowing for more room to accommodate his size. The kisses pressed into the side of your face draw you back to the world of the living, foggy eyes opening to find him. You’re greeted by a blissful smile, Vergil planting a kiss under a dopey eye.
“I know, sweetheart, I know. You can come, it’s okay; I won’t stop you.”
The orgasm shakes you soon after, teary eyes locked on him as you feel that little death claim you. Vergil doesn’t fight his own release either, letting you milk out the seed with shaky ruts. His hand under you finds its way to your perked clit, helping you ride out the much needed reprieve and ensure you’re satisfied. Cock slipping out of your folds, electric pulses hum through his body as he lets himself rest between your thighs, dripping shaft sandwiched between the pillowy flesh. He doesn’t attempt to move, even after your immediate seizing has slowed, savoring the sacred sights and smells of bonding with you once more. In the morning, he could sort his thoughts and practice discipline—tonight, this was enough.
Jul 13
more verrabbit AU stuff, this time with king consort wrabbit. might actually draw urizen SDT vergil some other time
wrabbit doesn't have his heart because the warehouse massacre doesn't happen in this AU. however, he still does augment himself with demon blood and serves as vergil's co-conspirator against mundus
Jul 13
Vergil
Jul 10
vergil has a rock collection
Jul 8
some pre-massacre verrabbit in the hotsprings of makai~
