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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 11 months

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Where There's a Will, Right?: Dante x Male Reader

SUMMARY: After Dante’s successful defeat of Argosax, he’s been ever-so-slightly more talkative than before; at least, that’s what you think. Both Trish and Lady noticed that Dante’s mood hasn’t improved and, if anything, he has only become more distant. Upon telling them that they’re wrong, they both tell you something that sends your mind reeling.

MINORS DNI--Seriously, go away >:[

BEGINNING NOTES: ✨Dom/Top Dante* x Male Sub/Bottom Reader *Takes place between DMC 2 and 4 on the timeline; meaning Dante’s a bit angstier than normal--kinda Vergil-esc but he gets closer to normal at the end. ✨Unestablished relationship but everyone (including Dante) knows that you have a thing for him ✨The reader lives at the shop ✨Mentioned dark topics (nothing in depth but Dante having been suicidal is mentioned a few times) 🍊🍊🍊 ✨Fluff ✨Angst (? kinda) ✨Smut; Dante’s first time--the reader’s body count is not specified but it is implied you aren’t a virgin--meaning he is very sensitive to your touches. ✨Biting--draws blood and enjoys it. ✨Rougher--It’s not great but I wanted to try writing something a bit rougher, experimentation if you will.\ ✨Oral--Dante receiving ✨Reader gets emotional afterwards; like sad fluffy stuff. 🍊🍊🍊 ✨A little self-indulgent. I could’ve written this as G/N (and if anyone wants a re-write, I can totally do so) but I wanted something a bit gayer than normal smh ✨I know absolutely dick-diddly about motorcycles, so you best believe I just googled all of it lmao ✨Not used to writing Trish or Lady so they might be a bit OOC; if anyone has any better ideas for how they should sound (if they sound off) please let me know! I want to try and use them more often. ✨The reader uses Revenant (as per usual) and Ifrit. How can you use those wonderful gauntlets? You are just stubborn or strong enough to resist their demonic nature; idk just let me have this lmao. Demons are from DMC 1, 2, and/or 4 (Also I didn’t really feel like writing too much combat since “Bound by Blood” is so combat heavy, kinda got bored with it lmaoooo). ✨THIS IS NOT A PREQUEL TO “Deep Regret” THAT FIC. IS STILL IN THE WORKS (AND IS REALLY ANGSTY LMAO)

“Really?” Trish leaned against the wall of the garage, watching both Lady and you work, “You sure we’re talking about the same Dante?”

“What?” you set down the socket wrench and looked over at her, “Don’t believe me?”

“No, not in the slightest,” she mindlessly looked at her nails as she continued, “I don’t think I’ve heard Dante say more than five words at once in years and you’re telling me--”

“That he and I talk all the time?” You stood up, wiping your hands on your jeans, "I mean, we do live together-- what's so hard to believe?"

Lady laughed, catching your attention, “Well, Dante’s not exactly the talking type anymore,” the raven-haired woman turned from the workbench, “Can’t say I blame her, hun.”

“But that’s where you guys are wrong,” you sighed, “I mean, he’s not super talkative but we can hold a conversation for a good while,” you walked over to the stairs, grabbing your open beer on the way, and sat down with a huff, “You’re telling me that he doesn’t talk to you when you are on a job or anything?”

Lady shook her head, “Do you know how rare it is for him to even say “hello” anymore?”

“Bah,” you made a dismissive flick of your hand, “You two are full of shit, there is no way he’s that quiet.”

Trish said something under her breath as she crouched down to check the work you'd done.

“Huh?” You cupped your ear in a joking manner, “I’m getting deaf in my old age, Trish--you gotta speak up.”

“I said,” she stood up and turned to look at you, “Maybe it is because Dante loves you.”

Beer shot out your nose as you choked on it, going wide-eyed feeling flustered beyond belief.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have a thing for him,” the blonde walked over to Lady’s workbench, pushing up on the edge and sitting on the tabletop.

“I do not!”

Lady shook her head, “It is painfully obvious that you have a crush on him,” she leaned her side on the bench, facing you, “I’m sure he knows, too.”

“How is it obvious?! I mean--” You pursed your lips knowing you just dug your own grave.

The women shared a laugh before Trish answered, “The two of you are practically joined at the hip.”

Lady then jumped in, “He won't do anything without telling or asking you first.”

"You're the only one allowed in his room."

"And the only one that can use his weapons without him getting pissed, especially Rebellion."

“Dante stares at your ass a lot.”

Once again, you choked on your drink.

Lady laughed at Trish’s comment with a shrug, “Can't fault him for that, you do have a nice ass.”

The sound of the roller garage door being lifted caught everyone’s attention. In the doorway stood the very topic of the conversation with a few bags of groceries in his arms.

“Welcome home, Dante!" You shot him a warm smile, "How'd shopping go?"

Dante stared at you then at the women, “Why are they here?” His voice was cold and flat, his typical way of speaking nowadays.

“Oh!” Your voice was semi-cheery as you stood up, tossing the beer bottle in the nearby trash, “They stopped by right after you left. Asked to use the workshop for a bit.”

He stared at them for a few more seconds before walking through the garage, past you, and into the shop.

Lady grumbled to herself before sticking out a hand, gesturing at where he’d gone, “See! I told you!”

“You two are looking too deep into it. Dante doesn’t,” you shrugged, “you know…”

“Bullshit!” Lady pinched the bridge of her nose, “I swear-- if the two of you don’t hook up soon, I’m going to--”

A quiet sound of a door being cracked open cut her off. Dante looked at you and quietly mumbled, “You coming?"

“Huh? I-- Yeah,” you smiled at him, “I gotta finish the oil change and I’ll be in, okay?”

He said nothing and shut the door.

Trish slid off the bench with a sigh, “Come on, let’s give the lover boys their room.”

“Try not to break ol’ Dante," Lady jested as she picked up her tool bag, "He’s not as spry as he used to be."

You flipped her off and she stuck out her tongue in return. As they left you meandered back to Dante’s bike, you couldn’t help but mull over what the girls said.

“There’s no way that they are right,” your brow furrowed, “Dante is-- well, Dante. He’s a ladykiller, not into men… right? I mean, he has a mountain of bikini girl magazines-- ”

Lost in your thoughts, your hand slipped and you dropped the open bottle of oil, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

You snatched the bottle as quickly as possible but the damage was already done; over half of the contents were now in a black pool on the floor. A dejected grumble left your lips as you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling of the garage with a forearm resting across your forehead.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm?” You tilted your head up slightly and saw that Dante was standing right at your feet, “Yeah… Just my good ol’ butterfingers…” Your head hit the concrete again as you sighed and looked at the mess, defeated.

His eyes trailed over to the oil on the floor before he wandered off. You propped yourself up on your elbows and saw Dante had grabbed the cat litter.

“You don’t have to--” He looked at you for a moment before dumping the litter on the spill, “Thanks, I-- Sorry, that was like a brand new bottle,” you leaned up in a sitting position, “I promise I’ll clean it up and replace the bottle.”

“It’s fine,” Dante stuck out a hand, helping you up.

As you got to your feet, you fell into him a bit and found yourself leaning on his chest. Your face instantly became hot as you froze. Strangely, Dante made no move to push you off of him or remove you, he just stood there and waited for you to do so yourself

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space, hah…”

Dante didn’t say anything, but rather, he grabbed your hand and pulled you inside the shop. On his desk was a box of fresh hot pizza and a few cold unopened beers.

Which in hindsight, you aren’t sure how he got the pizza. He didn’t have it when he entered the garage. Unless he got it delivered at the exact moment he got back… Or he had already stopped back in the foyer of the shop only to come around back to “interrupt” your conversation--but there’s no way he would do that, right?

“So,” you grabbed a slice and sat on the edge of his desk, “What’s the special occasion?”

“ ‘was hungry,” he grabbed a slice for himself and sat in his desk chair, putting his boots up on the tabletop.

A look of shock spread across your face, “Really?"

“What?”

“It’s just,” you shook your head, “I’m just glad that you’re eating, is all," you smiled warmly, "It's nice."

The red devil stared at you for a moment before continuing to eat.

Ever since defeating Nelo Angelo, Dante’s “human” habits had gradually deteriorated. He wouldn’t sleep, bathe, or even eat; any and all self-care was put on the back burner. You had to force the poor man to take care of himself--which is much easier said than done.

At one point, things got so bad that Trish acted more human than Dante. There was a small ray of hope, however; since Argosax’s defeat, Dante had begun to regain some small bits of life. He’d been bathing more often, eating every once in a while, and even smiling again. Most importantly, however, Dante hadn’t tried to off himself in almost six months which was a victory in and of itself for the tormented man; this, by extension, made you feel a little more at ease that the chance of you coming home to Dante on the cusp of death had slimmed significantly.

“Hey,” you pursed your lips and waited for him to look at you in acknowledgment, “Do you care if I turn on some music?”

He shrugged, "Don’t care."

You hopped off the desk edge and waltzed over to the "well-loved" machine. Hitting a random track--and praying to god it worked--you went back to your resting spot against Dante's desk. The two of you sat and ate together, listening to the jukebox and enjoying the quiet company.

===

A loud knocking at the front door of the Devil May Cry woke you up. You must've fallen asleep downstairs. Across from you, in the middle of the room, was the coffee table with a TV that had been playing a DVD’s menu screen for only god knows how long. You were on your side and resting on the floor, in front of one of the couches… Even though there was an open couch adjacent to this one.

A large blanket was draped over you and onto the furniture behind you. That's when you heard a snore and realized why you weren't on the couch. Dante was fast asleep and face down against the coffee-colored pleather. Goosebumps ran up your spine as you realized that his arm was across your chest, his fingers loosely grabbing the fabric of your shirt. Carefully, you slipped away from the sleeping devil and let out a soft groaning yawn as you stretched.

Another set of knocks.

You sighed and stood up, walking over to the door, opening it.

“Ah, good morning Mr. Morrison,” you smiled tiredly at the man, welcoming him into the shop.

“You know, you make me feel old when you call me tha--” he stopped and stared at Dante, who was still asleep on the couch.

A small huff of a laugh came from your nose as you whispered to Morrison, “I know. Shocking right?”

His volume matched yours in return, “That would be an understatement," he turned to you, “Sorry to wake you but I have a job for the two of you that requires immediate attention,” he held out a manila folder.

“What is it?” A flat voice asked, making both Morrison and you jump.

After the two of you took a moment to calm down from the unexpected voice, the broker walked over to Dante and handed him the file, “Huge swarm invaded a nearby city--didn’t even have time to evacuate.”

You walked over to Dante, peering over the edge of the file. He noticed your interest and scooched over to one side, allowing you to sit beside him. As you attempted to read, you found yourself leaning towards your partner, squinting harshly at the small text. Dante moved closer to you causing your sides to touch; which, despite how many times he’s been this close (and closer) to you, never failed to make your heart race.

As the two of you looked at the file, you couldn’t help but remember what the ladies had said yesterday; how stony he is to them compared to how acted with you. Dante might be a bit cold but he has his sweet moments--even if it’s him sharing paperwork filled with pictures of hundreds of demons and a destroyed cityscape.

You whispered to Dante, “So, wanna do it?”

His eyes flicked to you before he looked over the file once more, “Fine.”

“Sweet!” With a jovial smile, you grabbed the paperwork. Your eyes flicked up at Morrison who moved to the edge of Dante’s desk, leaning on it with a lit cigar--as per usual, “We’ll take it!”

The broker shook his head with a small smile, “I’m beginning to think you enjoy these types of jobs.”

“Actually,” you stood up and walked over to him, “I do. Don’t have to worry about destroying things," you handed him the file which he grabbed.

He laughed softly and shook his head, taking a puff of his cigar, “You two are quite the pair.”

You tilted your head in confusion; that’s when you felt an exhale of air on the back of your neck, making your hair stand on end.

“We takin' the bike?” Dante’s voice was low and his warm breath lightly tickled your ear.

“Y-yeah,” you turned your head to the side and were only inches away from the sultry devil.

His turquoise eyes locked onto your gaze for a few seconds before he gave a flat, “Ok,” and went upstairs to get changed.

Once the youngest son of Sparda was upstairs, Morrison laughed as he stood up from the desk, “I’ll let the city know you're on the way. You two be careful,” he nodded goodbye and headed for the door before stopping, turning his head over his shoulder to you, “Don’t forget that there is still a lot of people trapped and--”

“And we should try and help them, don’t worry,” you winked at him, “Dante and I got this.”

Morrison opened his mouth but said nothing; instead, he continued out the door whistling a tune to himself.

You raised a brow at the odd action but decided it was not worth dwelling on.

Humming to yourself, you made your way up to your room. One of the spare bedrooms of (The) Devil May Cry that you were “only staying in for a few months”... that was over a decade ago. A smile tugged at your lips as you reminisced about a time long since passed.

===

Rain quietly beat on the roof of (The) Devil May Cry as the well-loved jukebox played quietly in the background. It had been exactly a year since Dante had officially named the shop and begun to take jobs as a demon hunter. Sitting at the large wooden desk was said devil hunter without a shirt on, only opting to wear his pants and boots. His arms were placed neatly on the top of his desk with his head resting on them, facing down at the tabletop, snoring happily. A half-eaten pizza and several empty beers were scattered about, painting the same old scene that he partook in night after night.

That’s when you showed up in his life.

You burst into the shop, stumbling and out of breath; leaning against the door, holding it shut.

“We’re closed,” Dante didn’t even open his eyes.

Before you could reply, obnoxious loud banging and shouting could be heard from the other side of the door. Dante raised a brow and tiredly looked up at you, curious as to what was pursuing you so fervently. The shirtless young man’s ears twitched as he made out what was on the other side of the large wooden door; it wasn’t demons or devils, it was humans. A mob of what sounded like fifteen to twenty people that were spouting off insults that ranged from vaguely rude statements to flat-out death threats.

Dante sighed, standing up from his desk with a huff. Casually, he grabbed Force Edge from the wall it was resting against, walking over to you.

You, of course, were terrified, debating if it was better to take your chances outside. Bursting into some random dude’s shop was dumb but you didn’t expect a smoking hot white-haired man (who was possibly the owner) to approach you with a massive gothic sword.

He flicked his hand telling you to move off to the side, which you fearfully obliged. With a warm, soft, friendly feeling, he smiled at you revealing his oddly sharp teeth, “You’re gonna owe me for this,” your face instantly became flushed in embarrassment.

Dante opened the door wide open and stepped out of the shop, the large blade resting on his shoulder. As he slowly went down each stair, the mob backed up away from him, “I’m only gonna say this once,” his voice was cold, loud, and angry, the complete opposite of what you’d just heard, “Get lost.”

One of the group’s men decided to act tough and approached Dante, “And if we don’t? What are you gonna--!”

The red devil grabbed the man by the face and held him up, not phased by the man’s struggling, “You know, I hate people like you,” his fingers tightened, “People that just don’t know how to listen.”

Muffled complaints came from the man as Dante’s fingers tightened further before tossing him at the others, knocking several of them over. They helped each other stand back up but none of them moved to leave.

“Now scram,” Dante’s brow furrowed, “Last chance before you really start pissin’ me off.”

With that final warning, the group ran like the wind and disappeared. A small laugh came from the red devil as he re-entered the shop.

“So,” Dante set Force Edge back where it was, “What is a guy like you doin’ being chased by a mob at this hour, huh?” He leaned against the edge of his desk, folding his arms.

“I uh,” your face became hotter and hotter as you looked at the smiling man, calling him stunning was an understatement. It didn’t help that he was lightly soaked from the rain which was dripping down his body, emphasizing his physique, “I just pissed off the wrong folks, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Dante pushed off his desk and wandered over to you, “That why you smell like gunpowder, blood, and demons? Or’s that some sort of weird cologne?”

You froze.

“You know," he continued, "it’s not every day I get to meet someone in the same line of work as me,” he now stood in front of you, his hands stuck in his pockets and a casual tilt to his posture.

“I-- What?”

Dante’s smile widened, “You’re a demon hunter, right?”

Your expression said it all, making the young man laugh.

“Now,” he turned from you striding over to the corner of the room, “as payment for waking me up from my nap,” the white-haired man stood near one of the couches, grabbing his black long-sleeve shirt off the back, “You’re gonna take me with you to finish your hunt.”

As he slid the tight fabric over his body, all you could do was stare. Not only was watching him get dressed semi-erotic, but, the idea that you’d finally met someone else who enjoyed demon hunting like you do was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“That’s what you were doing right?” The red-clad man raised a brow as he slid on his vest, buckling the straps.

You blinked back into existence with a nod, “Yeah, you sure you want to come with? It isn’t exactly a small job, and,” you avoided his gaze, “it’s not only demons.”

“There are cultists, too--I know,” Dante slid on his gloves, “Figured that out the moment I saw ‘em outside,” he tossed his coat on, adjusting the lapels.

“O-oh…”

He meandered over to the same sword from earlier, placing it on his back, “So,” he raised a brow, “We doin’ this or what?”

You smiled sheepishly, “Sure.”

“Ah… Almost forgot,” Dante turned around and opened a desk drawer, grabbing his keys, “Here, catch,” he tossed you a box of shells, “Those work?”

“Really-- I- Yeah, why are you..?”

Dante began to walk out the door, you right behind him, “Can’t do all the work myself, babe,” he turned to you with a smile.

After he locked the door, you led him to a building that was right outside of Red Grave; it was an old abandoned apartment complex. The two of you made quick work of the job; given, it was half-finished from your earlier attack.

Despite not even knowing each other’s names, the two of you fought together quite well. Neither of you got in each other’s way. When you did interact, it was damn near perfectly choreographed; as if you’d known each other for a long time.

“You know,” Dante dodged a Death Scissors, “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Oh yeah?” A small amount of playful sarcasm loomed over your words, “I’m still not impressed with you,” you ducked underneath a Frost’s attack and shot it right in the small of its back, “mister white-haired stranger.”

“Eh,” he used Force Edge to slice three Abyss in half, “Had to leave you something to fight.”

Both of you shared a laugh and stood in the middle of the room, looking around at the carnage. Dante turned to see a cultist trying to escape. The red devil pointed Ebony up and shot the human, much to your dismay.

“Hey,” you shoved his shoulder, “You stole my final kill.”

“Oh,” he holstered Ebony and turned to you, “Didn’t see your name on ‘em, sorry.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and sighed, “Thanks for your help,” you avoided his eyes, which were trained on your face, “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Dante smiled, “This was fun, been a long time since I’ve had a partner to work with,” he stretched his arms upwards, cracking his shoulders, “Lady’s been off doing her own thing lately.”

“Lady?” You raised a brow, suspicious of the red devil’s seemingly fake person.

“She’s an old friend,” Dante and you began to descend back down the building’s stairs. It wasn’t until the two of you got outside before he spoke again, “Hey, so,” his voice was quieter than before, “You work by yourself all the time or?”

“Yeah,” you sighed and placed a hand on the back of your neck, “Never been able to find someone who’d join me on a hunt.”

“Well,” Dante put his hands in his pockets, “If you want, I’ve got an open spot at my shop...”

“Really?”

“Mhm, haven’t had a partner in a while and could use the company.”

You laughed.

“What?”

“I don’t even know your name and you are offering me a job?”

The red devil stuck out his hand, “Name’s Dante.”

You smiled and shook his hand, “Well, Dante, I think I’ll take up that job offer,” you sheepishly turned your head away and mumbled, “I think I could use some company, too.”

===

“You coming?”

A sudden flat voice from your doorway made you jump with a loud startled shout. Quickly, you turned around to see Dante, fully geared up, and leaning against your doorframe with his arms neatly folded.

“I- Yeah, sorry,” you shook your head, “Just lost in thought.”

Dante stood up, saying nothing, and headed back downstairs into the garage.

With pursed lips, you continued to get ready; that’s when it hit you. Dante must've been standing there for quite some time, watching you; you who was standing in bagging half falling off underwear the entire time. Your face became hot, the idea of Dante seeing you this exposed was enough to make your mind reel. Shaking off the growing hot feeling, you shoved yourself into your hunting gear; which included Dante’s Ifrit and your shotgun, Revenant.

Upon reaching the garage, you saw that Dante had already started the bike and was waiting outside for you to join him. Although you weren’t sure, you swear it looked like he was smiling at you; only hinted at by small creases in his cheeks. You joined him in the alley with a stuck-out hand, waiting for Rebellion, which he gave you. As you slid the sword on your back, you flashed a wide smile and playful wink at Dante. Then you mounted the back of the bike and a heavy wave of embarrassment filled your face as you firmly placed your hands on Dante’s waist.

Without a word, Dante kicked up the stand and you were off. As you held onto him, you couldn’t help but lean further onto his body, your face against his back. His cologne was that of lemongrass, lavender, and a light dusting of patchouli. You took a deep inhale, sighing longingly at the comforting scent; which didn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired hunter.

The two of you arrived shortly at the nearby city. Once both of you dismounted the bike, Dante stuck his hand out--mimicking what you’d done earlier. With a smirk, you pulled Rebellion off your back and held it out in front of you, blade facing down and your fingers tightly wrapped around the grip. The red devil grabbed the sword, making sure to just barely ghost your hand with his in the process.

A bright blush adorned your face as you gave him a small content laugh and looked at the less-then-happy scene before you. To say that the place was crawling with demons would’ve been an understatement.

An irritated long groan came from you as you slumped forward, “Those pictures must’ve been old; this is so much worse,” you looked over at Dante who was staring at you, “Wanna call in the ladies?”

“No,” he turned from you and began to walk toward the city.

With a baffled sigh, you shook your head and jogged to catch up to him, walking right beside him.

When the two of you got to the edge of the zone, a large platoon of soldiers was along the city’s edge. As expected, the two of you were approached by the armed people and questioned as to why you were there.

You sighed softly, “We were hired by the city to come in and exterminate the infestation.”

A mixture of various “bullshit”s and “no way”s were heard throughout the platoon. A greatly unamused Dante slyly reached down and grabbed one of your fingers with one of his, a sign he used when he wanted to move forwards.

“Just stay out of our way,” you shoved past the soldiers, Dante right beside you. Before you got too far, you stopped and turned to the men, “Wait about thirty minutes and start sweeping this end of the city for survivors, continuing further inwards; we’ll have most of the demons cleared out for you.”

Once more there were various forms of ill-natured or overly skeptical comments from the crowd; but, after all these years of hunting, it was expected at this point. The two of you just continued onwards, Dante’s finger still wrapped around one of yours.

It didn’t take long for you to encounter a horde. At first, you were excited and readied Ifrit; however, Dante has taken up to not allowing you to fight anything more than Misras or Frosts. Today was no different.

You vocalized your irritation (as you had done many times before) but it always fell on deaf ears, Dante simply didn’t care. Things came to a head when you were nearly finished with the job and the red devil had been nearly gutted by a group of demons but he still wouldn’t let you fight.

“Dante,” you furrowed your brow as the two of you walked on, “Could you at least let me kill something? I’m getting bored with fighting small fries and playing cheerleader.”

The red devil stopped and looked over at you, but said nothing.

“Come on,” you made your best puppy dog eyes and stuck out your lip in a pouty manner, “Please?”

“I can handle it,” he turned to continue on the path, “You are a human; humans are fragile.”

“Excuse me?” You walked beside him, “You forget you’re human, too?”

“I can heal within seconds,” he glared at you from the corner of his eye, “You can’t.”

You moved your jaw in thought, mulling over things before speaking again, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should push yourself like this,” the red devil’s head turned slightly, indicating he was listening, “Just ‘cause you can heal…” You reached out and lightly grabbed his bicep, “I’m your partner, remember? I’m here to help you.”

Dante stopped and pivoted to look at you. His brow was slightly upturned and his eyes held an odd unplaceable emotion, “I know.”

A small sad tilt decorated your brow as you lightly squeezed his arm before letting go. You had an inkling as to why he acted this way but had never been able to be sure; hell would have to freeze over before you’d get a clear answer from the red-clad half-breed.

The two of you entered the center of the city where the demons seemed to have come from. In the middle of the large leveled area was a large mass of sorts. Both of you knew exactly what it was, the start of a demon nest.

Almost as if on cue, an insurmountably large quantity of demons revealed themselves. The two of you split apart. Finally, you were able to fight something decent and were relishing in it. Your targets were, for the most part, Blades and Gladiuses; which wasn’t that big of a challenge but it is better than nothing. A smile shot across your face as you got to have some fun with Ifrit for the first time in years.

In the complete opposite of an over-strained Dante trying to deal with several Plasmas and Blitzes.

You had nearly finished up your half (well more like two-thirds) of the horde and destroyed the budding nest before you noticed Dante struggling. Quickly, you killed the last of your targets and rushed over to help the red devil, who had just been thrown through a building.

“Dante!” You kneeled down by him, “Hey, you alright?”

“I’m… fine,” his voice was strained as he tried to sit upright, only to bare his teeth with a grimace.

“Stay here, I’ll take care of this,” you stood up but found that your wrist was ensnared by Dante’s grasp.

“No,” he attempted to stand again.

“Dante, I can handle them,” you tugged your hand away, “Let go of me, please.”

His expression was blank as his fingers only tightened around you.

“Dante…” Now, you are starting to get irritated.

“I can handle them, just let me do it,” he stood up and you saw that his ribcage had concaved, clearly broken.

“No Dante-- You are in no condition to fight right now,” you pursed your lips, “I can finish this,” giving him one last chance to let go.

“No, I am fine.”

“Goddamnit Dante!” You snapped at him and yanked your hands out of Ifrit’s gauntlets, removing Dante’s grip on you, “You’re always protecting everyone else, so please, for once in your life,” you stalked over to Rebellion, which had been stuck in the ground nearby when Dante attempted to stop himself, grabbed it tightly and turned back to him, “Let me protect you.”

His eyes widened, showing a mixture of confusion and anger, but you didn’t give him a chance to refuse. You had already gone off and were slaying the rest of the demons using Rebellion. If Dante wanted you to stop, he could have recalled his sword; he should’ve recalled the blade but, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to.

Although you were still concerned for Dante, you couldn’t deny that you were having the time of your life. You'd only been allowed to use Rebellion one other time on the field, which was shortly after being hired at the DMC. The feeling of wielding such a mighty blade was insurmountable; not only that, but the frictionless feeling of slicing through demons was damn near erotic. A wide smile spread across your face as you finished off the final few demons, pinning the final Plasma down into the ground using the blade.

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“You’re just jealous that I got more kills than you,” with a playful shake of your head and a small laugh, you pulled Rebellion back out of the ground and turned around. Dante had healed and was giving you quite the venomous glare, your expression dropped, “What?”

He aggressively grabbed the sword from your hand, placed it on his back, and turned to walk back the way you came, “We’re leaving.”

You bent down and picked up Ifrit, sliding the fiery devil’s gauntlets back on, “Huh? We haven’t done our sweep back--”

“Now!” His voice was much angrier than you’d heard in a long time, so you remained silent and followed behind him.

The walk and ride back to the shop were eerily quiet. Neither of you said a word, not even to the soldiers that you passed in the city. During the bike ride, you did your best not to latch onto the red devil and held onto the bike itself--which wasn't exactly comfortable or easy, but you were pissed off and didn't care.

As the two of you entered the shop, you had thought about saying something to the devil but weren’t going to give him that satisfaction; no, you just silently went up to your room and slammed the door behind you. Leaving him in the foyer, alone.

Doing your best to ignore the guilty feeling in your gut, you hopped in a quick shower and took a small unintentional cat nap on your bed right after. Around an hour later, you woke up and groggily wandered downstairs to get a glass of water--and to see where Dante had gone. As you looked around, you pursed your lips in confusion. Dante typically after a job would just get drunk at his desk or on the couch but he was nowhere to be found. It was rare for him to actually go to his room; but, then again, it is even rarer for the two of you to have a disagreement or fight like this. A sigh left your lips as you traversed back to your room. A small amount of regret lingered at the edges of your mind for using such harsh words at the poor devil.

Mindlessly, you had wandered to stand in front of his room and stood there with your hand up, ready to knock. After a minute you decided to put your hand back down, hoping that maybe he’d be the one to come to you and apologize for once. With a heavy sigh, you entered your room and turned the light on, then nearly had a heart attack.

There, sitting silently on the edge of your bed, was Dante in his boxers and a long-sleeve black baggy shirt. His forearms were resting on his legs--one of which was bouncing nervously, his hands intertwined as he mindlessly twisted and played with his fingers, and his gaze fixated on the floor.

“Uh… Dante? Everything okay?” You shut the door, set your glass of water down, and slowly walked over to the bed, sitting beside him.

“You remember why I hired you?” His voice was soft and sad, something was wrong.

You shook your head, confused at the seemingly out-of-nowhere question, “Huh?”

“Do you remember why I hired you?”

“Because you said you needed company..?”

His lips twitched at the answer; however, he said nothing and just stared at the floorboards in front of him.

“Dante?” You gently and cautiously grabbed his forearm, making his leg stop bouncing.

His voice became even softer, becoming barely audible, “Do you regret it?”

Your brow softened as your fingers gripped him tighter, “Dante…”

His brow furrowed as he moved his jaw for a second before giving you a sad huffed laugh, “I wouldn’t blame you if--”

“Stop,” you stood up and moved to stand in front of him, then knelt between his legs, “Look at me,” his eyes coyly met yours as you grabbed both his hands, “I have never regretted anything I’ve done with you, nor will I ever.”

A small quiver found its way to Dante’s lip, “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” You gave him a bittersweet smile, “I like being with you, Dante.”

He opened his mouth but no sound came out, only a crack and a small whimper as tears filled his eyes. Then you did what you should’ve done the moment he started talking, you stood up and enveloped him in a tight hug. Dante quickly wrapped himself around you. The red devil’s fingers dug into your back and grabbed generous handfuls of your shirt.

Half-formed sentences and choked-up versions of “I’m sorry” are all that he could manage through the unwavering barrage of tears. All you could do was hold him tight and tell him that everything’s okay--that he doesn’t have to apologize, not for breaking down like this. Gently, you kneaded against his shoulder blades and placed one hand in his hair, petting him. You noticed his hair was wet; which, not only meant that’s where he was when you were searching for him but, this was the first time he'd taken a real shower in nearly three weeks. It seemed like a lifetime had passed before his tears began to slow, eventually boiling down to just small hiccups.

However, his hold on you didn’t loosen, if anything, it got tighter. You had placed the side of your face against the top of his head and quietly hummed, hoping to comfort him.

“Hey…” Dante’s voice was thick and quiet, a hint of nervousness ghosted his words.

“Hm?”

“Would it be okay to stay like this? Just for a little longer…” He waited with bated breath for your response.

“Mnmm… How about this,” you pulled back from him, making him hesitantly release you. A small warm smile tugged at your lips as you straddled his lap and re-wrapped yourself around him with your legs around his middle, “This okay?”

Through your shirt, you could feel Dante hum with a small smile, “Mhm,” his arms regrafted themselves to your body as he pushed his head into your body.

The two of you sat together for nearly two hours, Dante softly purring against your skin as you lightly rubbed his back and played with his hair. If the front door hadn’t opened, the two of you would’ve stayed linked together for much longer.

“I’ll get it,” you slid off his lap but were stopped by Dante grabbing your wrist.

“Do you have to?” His expression was oddly shy, which sent a sharp pang of love through your heart.

“Join me?” You smiled as you pulled him up. A small surprised laugh left your mouth as you felt him lace your fingers together.

A bright smile adorned your face as the two of you made your way downstairs and found Morrison standing in the foyer.

“Afternoon, Mr. Morrison!” You waved with a small happy noise but realized that he was staring with wide eyes.

“I’m not… interrupting, am I..?”

You stared at him in confusion before you realized how the two of you looked; both of you were semi-disheveled, only in underwear and a shirt, and Dante’s hand was in yours, “No! No- not at all! We-- It’s not what it--”

“You are," Dante released your hand, moving further into the room, “but it is my fault for not locking the door. What’s up?”

A sputtered confused noise left your lips as your face became unbearably hot, mortified at what Dante was implying.

Morrison laughed, “Blunt as always, huh Dante?”

“Why bother lying about it,” Dante leaned against his desk, arms folded casually.

The broker shook his head with a smile, “I’m just here to drop off payment from the job earlier,” he handed Dante a thick envelope, “The client was impressed with how quickly the two of you worked--made sure to get it to you just as fast and added a little extra cash, too.”

“Oh? Really?” Dante opened the packet and counted the cash quickly, “Huh… Thanks, Morrison.”

Morrison did a double-take, taken aback at not only Dante’s words but, Dante’s willingness to talk, “No problem, Dante…” The broker looked over to you with a raised brow before turning to leave, “Sorry for interrupting, I’ll lock the door on the way out. Goodnight you two.”

“ ‘Night, Mr. Morrison!” Your voice was sweet but still had a lingering sense of embarrassment to it.

Dante opened the top desk drawer and tossed the money in it, smiling.

With a sudden nervousness, you approached the pants-less devil and joined him near the desk, “So… What was Morrison interrupting, Dante?”

His turquoise eyes slowly moved up to meet yours, a heavy odd feeling behind them.

Your face became even hotter as you swallowed hard, “Dante..?”

“We were sitting together,” small creases formed on his cheeks as he smiled wider, “Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

Another loud set of sputtered discombobulated noises came from you, unsure how to respond to such a loaded question.

A dark chuckle came from Dante as he meandered over to you, slowly inching you towards the wall behind his desk, then placing a hand beside your head, “Something wrong?”

“No, I--,” you closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to keep yourself from spontaneously combusting in embarrassment, “I’m f-fine.”

He lifted a brow and placed his free hand on your cheek, running his fingers gently across your skin, “I dunno, you seem rather feverish… You’re not sick, are you?”

“I’m just a little warm, that’s all,” you let out a half-hearted laugh, doing your best to ignore the pounding in your chest.

The red devil wasn’t satisfied with this answer and moved his face closer, putting his nose right beside yours, and made half-lidded eye contact, “I don’t believe you.”

Bit by bit, you leaned closer to him, placing your lips as close as you could without touching his. The two of you hovered for a moment before Dante pulled away and turned to look to his right, “Do you mind?”

You mimicked Dante's action in confusion and saw Trish standing in the shop.

“Lady forgot a few things in the garage,” Trish raised a brow and addressed you, “You believe us now?”

“Trish!” Dante’s face was bright red, “Seriously?”

“What?” She placed a hand on her hip, “You do love him, don’t you?”

Dante mumbled something you didn’t quite catch before his voice returned to the previous volume, “Can you leave? You’re kinda killing the moment.”

“Just make sure that you two can work in the morning, we have a contract to do.”

“Trish!”

She gave you a wide smirk and a wink, “Have fun.”

The two of you waited for the garage door to shut before Dante sighed, “Guess the moment’s kinda ruined, huh?”

He sheepishly turned to you, to which you grabbed his shirt and yanked his lips down to meet yours. A surprised muffled grunt came from the red devil as he placed his hand over yours, his thumb slowly running over your skin and removing you from his shirt. Gradually, he regained control over the situation and pushed you back against the wall. His lips were broiling and desperately pushing against yours, almost painfully so.

Dante grabbed the sides of your hips, picking you up slightly, so he could pin you against the wall using only his body and a knee that he had placed between your legs. Your hands frantically grabbed at his body, eventually settling for one hand in his hair and the other groping at his upper back. His hands wandered all over your body, sliding underneath your shirt and touching as much as you as he could.

Eventually, you managed to wrap your legs around his middle and his hands slipped down to support you from underneath your thighs. You cupped his face in both your hands to deepen the fervorous kissing. The red devil bit lightly at your lips, asking to enter your mouth. At first, you didn’t let him and playfully denied him entrance. Dante wanted to taste you and wasn’t taking no for an answer, forcing his tongue inside. His tongue was hot and he wanted nothing more than to explore every bit of your mouth, to devour as much as he could. The unexpectedly long appendage made you jolt and gag slightly in surprise, which made Dante smirk with a small amount of pride.

Only once you were both out of breath did the two of you separate, leaving you with labored breathing and hazy loving smiles.

Your thumbs gently rubbed the stubble that decorated his jawline, “Dante, do you really..?”

He meekly smiled and mumbled, avoiding your eyes in embarrassment, “You think I’d treat anyone else like you..?”

You placed a soft kiss on his forehead, “I love you… So much”

A soft huffed laugh came from his nose.

“What?”

He placed a small kiss on the side of the base of your neck, “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

You laughed softly, “Dante,” he looked up at you and you ran a hand through his hair, “You want to know something?”

“Hmm?” He began to purr and melt into your touch.

“Although, there’s obviously more a more emotional aspect now,” you broke eye contact and turned away to avoid his gaze, “When we first met if you had asked me to… ya know… I would’ve,” your face was completely on fire as you regretted opening your mouth.

“Oh?” Using one hand to support you, he used a hand to turn your face to his, “What was that now?”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked from embarrassment, “N-nothing!”

He had a sultry smirk tugging at his lips as he ran his thumb over your trembling lips, “You know, I thought about asking for that--instead of joining your hunt.”

“You-- you did?” Your face only became hotter with each word.

“Mhm,” Dante put his lips above yours again, “Not every day a smoking hot, sopping wet, guy busts into my shop.”

The two of you connected lips again and Dante’s hands gripped the sides of your thighs harshly, his nails digging into you, and dipped your ass lower to meet his growing heat. A small growl came from the back of the red devil’s throat as he ground his hips against you. Your hands grabbed his shoulders as you let out a small moan from the friction of Dante’s grinding. In response, Dante began to roll his hips harshly against you, shoving you against the wall with each thrust. Your hips jolted from the sudden rough movements and you broke from the kiss, letting out a low hissing groan. Dante, however, wasn’t done tasting you and immediately placed his lips back over yours; making sure to devour each one of your sweet noises.

He turned around and began to support you using only one hand again. With his free hand, he moved his mother’s photo to the desk drawer, closing it softly, and then swept his arm across his desk, throwing everything else off the top--making an absolute mess of the already cluttered shop.

Dante dropped you onto the desk and broke the kiss. Quickly, he removed your shirt and began to bite at whatever he could, making you squirm from the sudden, almost animalistic, aggression. His teeth broke through your skin and Dante excitedly lapped up the crimson lines, letting out a continuous lowly growl. A sharp loud gasp left your mouth as you arched your back towards him in response to him biting your neck; still drawing blood as he did for the other marks. Your fingers dug into him only further encouraging him to do it again.

However, you weren’t about to let Dante have all the fun. You kneaded your way down his torso and to the edge of his boxers. Coyly, you palmed over his bulge with widening eyes. Of course, it was easy to tell that Dante had a nice dick from how visible it is through his pants but you didn’t expect it to get that much bigger.

The sultry devil caught onto your sudden surprise and let out a small breathy laugh against your neck, “What’s the matter, babe?” He ran his tongue along one of the bleeding marks, “Surely you knew..?”

“I,” your mind was blank, “I thought you were a shower, not a grower,” you let out a half-huff half-laugh noise through your nose.

“Oh, just you wait,” a small seductive laugh came from him as he leaned back up to look you in the eyes, “Still not quite there yet.”

You rolled your eyes and casually draped your arms over his shoulders, “You know, just cause it’s big doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to use it,” you let out a playful low laugh, staring at him with half-lidded eyes.

Dante leaned in, “Oh, don’t worry,” he kissed you again, “I know exactly what you like,” smiling happily.

The two of you exchanged loud pecking kisses, “Mhm, sure you do.”

He stopped and left his lips right above yours, his breath ghosting your kiss-swollen lips, “I can hear things, you know…”

Your eye went wide, “Wh-what are you--”

“Every night, in your room,” he moved to kiss right behind your jaw, whispering against your skin giving you goosebumps, “Begging for me, saying my name,” he ran his tongue along the shell of your ear, “You’re much louder than you think, babe,” Dante gently bit your ear before he leaned back up to meet your gaze.

All you could do was stare back. Admittedly, it had crossed your mind a few times over the years that Dante might be able to hear you but you figured that he would’ve said something by now; especially with how long it’s been since you moved in. The idea that Dante had been listening to you for so long made your entire body hot and threw you for a loop.

Through all your discombobulated noises, you finally managed to sputter out, “Why didn’t you tell..?”

“Because,” he leaned in, intensifying his eye contact, “I get off listening to you,” he kissed your jawline, “I love hearing you come undone.”

A shiver ran up your spine as you completely froze.

The red devil noticed your change in expression and began to panic, “I didn’t upset you--!”

You yanked him down to your mouth, kissing him harshly once more. As you did, your hands ran up his shirt and began to grope at his pecs, eliciting a moan from the white-haired devil. Your nails ran down his body leaving loving irritated red skin, making him groan much louder.

He broke off from the kiss and quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head, tossing it in a random direction in the shop. When he looked back at you, his heart skipped a beat at the face you were making. Although you were obviously already flustered, your face had turned darker by tenfold and your eyes were wide; staring directly at Dante’s bare body.

“What?” He smiled with a tilt of his head and hips, “Like what you see?”

You coyly reached out to touch his chest again, Dante watching you intently. Softly, you kneaded against him and whispered, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Now it was his turn to become red in the face, “H-huh?”

“I said,” your voice returned to normal volume, “You’re gorgeous, Dante…”

He stared at you. Although the red devil plays the confident type, his self-esteem was rather poor, and, to be quite frank, he hated how he looked most days; being reminded of his dead brother every time he looked in a mirror. However, hearing you say something so simple and, yet, so impactful made his head spin and his heart wrench.

You leaned in and placed a string of gentle kisses along his collarbones. As you did, you could hear him purring ever-so-slightly and were able to feel the vibrations through your lips. Eventually, Dante snapped out of his stupor, he slipped his hands into your underwear and found purchase on your ass, groping and kneading against you harshly. Next, you placed kisses up his neck and placed a long kiss against his Adam’s apple, pushing against it slightly; eliciting a groan from Dante.

Now back up at his lips, you connected with him once again. The red devil leaned you back onto the barren desk, without breaking the kiss, and pulled your hips tight to his. Once you were fully laid back, Dante moved down your jaw all the way down to your chest with soft kisses. A loud hiss left your mouth as you felt him bite down on one of your nipples, tugging on it slightly--doing his best to make sure he didn’t give you an accidental piercing.

“Fuck… Dante,” you ran your hands through his hair and looked down at him, he was already staring back at you; something was different, “Hey,” he released his bite, “You-- You alright?”

His brow twitched in confusion and he tilted his head, his gaze thinned.

“Your uh… eyes are--” You pursed your lips, his eyes had become a vibrant burning red-orange

“Oh- Oh!” Dante laughed softly, “Don’t worry about that,” his voice was quiet, seemingly shy, “I’m just excited, that’s all.”

You smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek, thumbing over his flushed skin. He moved back up to you and stared down at you. His eyes are the exact same as when he uses his Devil Trigger except for his pupils, which are heavily dilated. It was a chilling reminder of how dangerous Dante really is, how much stronger than you he is.

“Are you sure you are alright with me-- with us-- doing this?” His brow was upturned and his voice was filled with a unquenchable lust that made your entire body hot.

“Of course,” you gave him a long drawn-out kiss and bit his lower lip, slowly pulling on it, “I wouldn't have it any other way,” you felt him shift his hips slightly and whispered against his lips, “I want you, please, Dante.”

He nodded and took a deep breath, leaning back up.

Before he could do anything, you sat up and pushed him away lightly with your fingertips on his chest. A sultry smirk tugged at your lips as you slowly slid down to your knees, placing the occasional kiss along his abdomen.

Dante’s breath hitched upon realizing what you were doing, “You don’t have to- ah~” He let out a small groan at the feeling of your lips against his still-clothed cock.

You looked up at him and placed a few more kisses down his trapped shaft, feeling him twitch against you. With almost painfully slow movements you kissed back up his shaft then slid your fingers behind the band of his boxers, pulling them down. His cock sprung up proudly, already dribbling pre-cum.

With a small smirk, you looked up at him and ran your tongue up the underside of his dick, making sure to lap up the small bits of milky fluid. His eyes broke from yours and were staring upwards.

“Dante,” you stopped, making him look back down at you, “Look at me, please,” you leaned back in closer to his body, whispering against his sensitive flesh, “I want to see if you are enjoying what I am doing or not”

He swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath, “I don’t know how long I… If I watch you.”

You smiled and let out a sultry laugh, placing a kiss on the underside of his tip, “That’s fine, as long as I get to watch you cum.”

The red devil’s face was bright red, not only from your words but from, watching you give his slit small kitten licks. You made your way down his shaft with slow kisses again, reveling in how much he was squirming from your touch. Once down to his base, you moved to the side--between his cock and the meat of his thigh--and bit down on him, leaving a loving dark mark. All the while Dante was groaning quietly as he bit his lower lip, attempting to stifle his vulnerable noises. In fact, he was biting down so hard that blood had begun to trickle down his chin.

After you felt the mark was dark enough, you placed several kisses on his balls and curled your tongue around his shaft, moving from the very base all the way back up. Slowly, you placed your lips around his cockhead and made sure to watch as Dante released his lower lip, unable to contain himself any longer. Bit by bit you took his length into your mouth, to the best of your ability; it’s not every day you suck an eight-inch cock after all.

Unhurriedly you bobbed your head up and down, making sure to savor his taste and the lewd mewls that he was making. You used one hand to play with his balls, making him buck his hips at the unexpected touch. Cautiously, he placed a hand on the back of your head, his fingers just barely ghosting against you. Noticing his hesitation, you used your free hand to push his palm harder against you. As you worked yourself into a rhythm, you noticed that he was moving his hips gently into you, making you take him in ever-so-slightly deeper with each intake.

You placed your free hand on your own dick and began to stroke yourself at the sight of Dante towering above you. He was breathing heavily with half-lidded eyes and was moaning sweet praises; such as “Holy shit” or “Goddamnit”.

After a while, you moved back to kiss down his shaft and his balls. Carefully, you licked his sack and took one of his balls into your mouth very gently sucking on it.

Dante put his hands against the wall, pushing up, and arched his back as he let out a loud unfiltered moan, "Fuckin~~! God~" His fingers clawed through the wallpaper, all he wanted was to grab you and fuck into the back of your throat, but he needed to be careful and have patience; the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

As you released his ball, you lightly ran your teeth against the skin, making him let out another loud moan. You flattened your tongue and ran it up between his balls, making sure to go slowly between them, all the way back to his tip only to generously give his slit more kitten licks.

Once again, you returned to bobbing up and down on his cock, moving a bit faster this time. One of your hands began to fondle his balls again whilst the other wrapped around to hold the back side of his thighs; encouraging him to thrust harder into your face. The red devil caught on quickly to the idea and placed both his hands on the back of your head and began to thrust his hips into you.

Admittedly, it was perhaps a bad idea to encourage him to face-fuck you since he managed to make you deep-throat him; something you weren’t able to do. Tears sprung to the corners of your eyes at the feeling. All you could do was wrap both your arms around his thighs and hold on for dear life, hoping he didn’t get any rougher.

Thankfully, it didn’t take Dante long to reach his peak. Your eyes met with his and he let out a thunderous whining moan as his fingers dug into the back of your head, pushing his cock as far into your mouth as he could. As expected, his cum didn’t taste the greatest--caused by his diet or lack-there-of, it was very salty and rather bitter. On top of that, he was choking you and pushing rather hard into the back of your throat but that didn’t matter much; you got what you’ve been lusting after for so long.

The look on his face alone made it worth the probable sore throat in the morning. He was disheveled with his hair falling in front of his face, some of which was stuck to the thin layer of sweat on his brow. His eyes were heavy and even more dilated than before. A dark red stain adorned his lower lip from his own smeared blood. Heavy labored breaths left his ajar lips, giving you a good look at his sharp teeth. You could tell that he wanted you, that he wasn’t done with you yet; which is exactly what you’d hoped for.

You felt him pet the back of your head as you removed his cock from your mouth. With heavy eyes of your own, you looked up at him with your mouth hung open slightly and breathing heavily. He noticed the tears that had finally run down your face and thumbed them off your cheeks, cupping your face in his hands.

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned against one of his hands and took his thumb into your mouth, biting it softly.

Dante’s voice was soft, “Can we do more?”

With a smirk, you let go of his finger and stood up, placing a hand on his chest, “You sure you’re up for it?”

The red devil picked you up, placing his head between your neck and shoulder, whispering in a low dark tone, “My room or yours?”

A shiver ran up your spine, “E-either one’s fine-!”

Dante bit down softly over one of the marks he made earlier in an attempt to satiate some of his growing desires, internally he felt himself becoming increasingly impatient. After a minute of thought, he went upstairs with you still in his arms and kissing your marred skin. Dante decided to use his room; after all, he knows where his lube is--plus he doesn’t have to worry about ruining your bedding, bed, or room in the heat of the moment.

He supported you with one arm as he futzed with the doorknob. You grabbed his face and moved it to yours, kissing him once again. Dante’s kisses were much less innocent and sweet this time; this time, they were overtly lustful and sinful. He wanted to indulge both himself and you in these unholy urges, to make you feel as good as he does; which, come hell or high water, is exactly what he’s going to do.

Finally, he got the door open and pushed it open using your back. Your hands made their way up to his hair, grabbing handfuls of it as he placed both his hands on your ass, pulling you as tight to him as he could. The only light in the room was provided by the sunset that was peaking through the blinds on his window; which poured directly onto the bed. He brought you both to the foot of his bed and laid you down, moving his kisses down your neck and to your shoulder.

When Dante leaned up the sight before him is one that will be immortalized in his jumbled mind. You were a hazy mess and were sprawled out on the untidy sheets. The sunlight gave your body a golden glow and only emphasized how beautiful you are to him. You looked heavenly, angelic almost. A small amount of pity sat at the edge of Dante’s mind, pity at how he is going to stain your pure and holy nature; how this devil is going to destroy you.

He grabbed one of your hands and kissed the back of it, placing genteel warm kisses up your arm and stopping on your shoulder. His breath was hot and tickled your ear as he whispered to you, “I love you,” he placed a long kiss on the side of your neck, “So damned much…”

Before you could speak, he placed a soft peck on your lips and stood up, moving over to his bedside table. You scooched up further onto the bed and Dante climbed onto it, a bottle of lube now in hand, sitting on his knees. To say he looked stunning was an understatement. You weren’t sure if he looked heavenly or if he looked demonic; perhaps he is both a devil and an angel wrapped up in a half-human shell. The sunlight made him appear god-like; between the sheer definition of his frame and the orange eyes that were trained on you, he looked surreal. Said eyes were flicking all over your body, absorbing every bit of you that he could, but he was hesitant; what if he messes things up?

After a few minutes, you sat up and placed a hand on his bicep, “Hey, you okay? We can stop if you don’t want to do more, Dante.”

He shook his head, “No, I want this, I want you. I just--” his gaze broke from yours and mumbled, just barely audible, “I’m nervous.”

You gave him a gentle smile, thumbing over his arm, “You’re doing great, Dante,” you leaned the top of your head against his chest, closing your eyes, “Besides, that’s supposed to be my line.”

He let out a warm laugh and placed his hands on your back, kneading against you.

After a moment, Dante leaned you back down and slid his hands into your underwear. He pulled your last bit of clothing off and tossed it somewhere within the messy room, then he took his own off; leaving you both completely exposed. The red devil then paused in thought for a moment before carefully turning you over onto your stomach.

You peered over your shoulder at Dante. He was staring at your bare form, biting his lip. A small groan left your mouth as you felt him place his warm hands on your ass, kneading. After a moment, you heard him shuffle around and then he sat for a moment. A sharp gasp came from you as you felt him smack your ass then aggressively grabbed the slowly redding side. Dante’s lip twitched into a smirk as he did it again, hearing you let out another moan.

He put both hands back down and groped at your ass, listening to your whimpering beneath him. Admittedly, he wanted to continue teasing you but he was losing grip on his own emotions; fighting back an urge to Trigger. So, he let go of your tender flesh and grabbed the bottle of lube. Instinctively, you put your ass up a bit; laying in a downward dog position. Dante split apart your cheeks and applied a generous amount of lube before slowly running his finger around your hole.

A small buck of your hips back told Dante you wanted him to hurry up so he slid one finger inside you. You buried your face into the bedding in hopes to suppress your voice but were quickly pulled back up by Dante’s hand carefully around your throat.

Through a strained growl, Dante confidently huffed, “I want to hear everything, and,” he leaned down, slowly adding a second finger, and whispered in your ear, “I don’t want you to fake anything.” He kissed the back of your neck, “I want your real reactions, ‘kay?”

Quickly you nodded, laying your head to the side and letting out a quiet groan as you felt his fingers fuck into you faster. Dante curled his fingers towards himself and felt you jolt forwards as you let out a guttural groan. So, he repeated the action and, when you repeated the same response, he continued to do it faster and faster.

Dante added more lube and slid in a third digit and saw that your brow furrowed a bit, grimacing slightly; however, you didn’t tell him to stop so he pushed it in further. As he played with your hole, he noticed you had begun to practically ride his hand. Mindlessly he opened his mouth and began to play with his teeth using his tongue, he found himself distantly regretting waiting so long and wished he had been able to gratify these taboo feelings sooner.

“Dante,” you stared at him from the corner of your eyes, “I want you,” you felt his fingers quicken, making you moan, “Please, Dante.”

The red devil shifted his jaw in thought, still playing with your ass. He wanted to watch you squirm underneath him longer but he couldn’t deny that he was also growing increasingly desperate. With a small sigh, he removed his fingers and gently coaxed you to turn over; laying belly up.

Slowly, he ran a hand down your middle and gently thumbed over your aching cock, and the pre-cum that decorated the tip. You whimpered from the unexpected feeling of your long-neglected arousal. Dante leaned back to sit his butt on his heels and, using some lube, stroked himself to the sight before him.

Once fully slicked up, Dante aligned himself with your hole. A devilish smirk tugged at his lips as he teased you, running his tip along your hole; he wanted to hear you beg as he had heard in secret for so many years.

“Please Dante,” you pursed your lips and rolled your hips, “Please, I can’t-- Please~!”

With a low growl, he pushed his tip inside and you let out a sharp gasp at the feeling.

Bit by bit Dante entered your body. You were doing your best not to tighten your body around the unfamiliar feeling. Admittedly, it made your whole body tingle in delight; never had you had such a large partner--living or plastic--making this quite a new and thrilling experience. It took nearly a minute for Dante to finally be fully inside and both of you were already on edge. You reached up for Dante’s head, pulling him down for a kiss. Your legs rested on the outsides of his hips, allowing him to bend down fully to kiss you. The kisses were slow, loud, sloppy kisses; both of you were a mess.

Dante sat back up, holding you around your thighs, and ever-so-slightly pulled back then pushed back inside. He continued these small careful movements for some time.

“More, please, Dante,” you spoke between heavy breaths, “I don’t want you to hold back,” you flashed him a warm sultry smile, “Do whatever you want with me, Daddy~” You added a playful wink to the end and laughed as his eyes went wide with embarrassment.

Your laughter quickly died down when you felt him quickly pull out over half his length and jab it right back in eliciting you to let out a loud unfiltered moan, “Do whatever I want, huh?” He gave you a dark full-teeth smile, you felt your stomach drop in a fearful arousal type of way.

Dante pulled out almost the whole way and, once again, slammed right back inside. You let out another sharp moan and arched your back at the feeling. The red devil repeated this action until all you could hear in the shop was his balls hitting your ass and you spouting out random jibberish; singing the devil’s praises.

You went to jack yourself off but were stopped by Dante’s hand grabbing your wrist. Without slowing down, Dante leaned down and looked you dead in the eye, “You only get to cum when I say you can, babe.”

“What~Ah~!”

Dante yanked you up to sit on his lap, making hard deep hard jackrabbit thrusts right into your prostate. As he did that, he also had begun to bite over your skin again and his hands hand found their way to your ass; groping it hard. You wrapped your arms around him and held on to him, leaving deep scratches on his upper back. His lips met with yours again for more sloppy wet kisses, his hands slowly traveled to underneath your thighs.

In one swift motion, he had both of you up off the bed and you pushed against his wall. His thrusts had slowed to a moderate pace but were still short, only pulling out two or three inches. You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and bit down on his shoulder. Dante let out a loud sharp unfiltered moan and his fingers dug into your skin, clawing into your thighs.

Once you felt the mark was deep enough, you placed a few more; making sure to mar up each side, and with each bite, you got another frantic moan. You leaned back to admire your work and felt him start making longer, more drawn-out movements, purposefully teasing.

Now resting his head against the side of your neck, he placed a few kisses, “I don’t remember saying you could bite me, babe.”

“Whatcha gonna do about it, hm?”

Dante pulled out of you and the next thing you knew you were being pushed face down into the floor, his hand grasping the back of your head tightly. He re-inserted himself inside you and began to fuck you even harder than before; pulling out to the very tip and slamming into you. Using his other hand, he took one of your arms and held it behind you, pinning it to your back. Your free hand was stretched in front of you and you were gripping the floor with your fingertips, desperately trying to ground yourself.

Admittedly, you were on cloud nine as you felt him continuously re-penetrate your hole. Your legs felt weak and you began to, unknowingly, drop your hips down; which caught Dante’s attention. The red devil pulled himself back out and took you to the bed, laying you face up. He remained on his feet and re-inserted himself, then yanked your legs up and over his shoulders. All you could do was grip the bedding tightly and continue to babble random moaning phrases to him, egging him on further.

This pose didn’t last long, Dante removed your legs and leaned down to you. He gave you a long impassioned kiss before resting his forehead against your chest. One of his hands grabbed yours, intertwining your fingers, and the other found purchase on your cock. With each jab inwards, he jerked your dick in rhythm with his hips. Your free hand gripped his hair, holding him into your chest.

Dante’s voice was ragged and low, almost desperate sounding, “I don’t know how much longer I…”

“Cum inside me, Dante,” you didn’t even need to hear the rest, you knew that he wanted to know what to do.

He moved his head to rest between your neck and shoulder then picked up his pace tenfold, in both his hips and his hand. Your body arched tightly against his and your fingers clasped even tighter around his hand and his hair. It only took a few more short sharp jabs for him to reach his climax, spilling himself deep inside you. Dante’s teeth sunk deep into your skin, breaking it once again, and creating a vice grip on you.

The hot feeling from his cum quickly spread throughout your body as his pace around your cock sped up, the combination of the two soon brought you to your own peak, “Fuck, Dante~!” Your voice was loud and semi-whiney and you pushed your head against his.

A gentle purr could be heard from him at the sound of your orgasm, despite him still having his teeth sunk into you. You gently ran your fingers through his hair and felt as if you were going to cry. The two of you laid connected for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being so close.

Dante carefully removed his bite, making you let out a hiss in pain, and released your hand from his. He leaned up and gently removed his cock from your body, making a shiver run up your spine. With a happy content huff, he relaxed back down on you and propped himself up by resting his forearms on your chest. A warm smile and half-lidded eyes adorned his face as he placed a soft innocent kiss on your cheek and then rested his chest on his arms, staring at you.

Your hands slowly ran up his biceps and rested on his shoulders, mimicking his smile with one of your own. As you thumbed over his skin, you couldn’t help but think about how much you truly cared about Dante. Wandering thoughts devolved to the memories of coming home to a near-dead Dante laying on the bathroom floor; which only further darkened to the idea that it could always happen and, someday, you might not make it home in time to--

“Hey,” Dante’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. His smile was gone and his brow was creased, “What’s wrong?”

A tremble found its way to your lips as you stared at him and you realized that you had several tears running down your face. Unable to spit out what you were thinking, you spoke with a small crack in your voice, “Can you come closer?”

He gave you a small sweet smile with a happy huff, “Here.”

Dante stood up, picked you up, and placed you on the bed--laying you the correct way. The red devil then slid onto the bed next to you, placing his head on your chest. He laid with his body half on top of you and wrapped his arms around your middle, allowing you to do the same. Although you typically would’ve immediately gone to wash up after such a strenuous event, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of him. A loud robust purring filled the room as both of you relished in the feeling of holding one another.

You placed a soft long kiss against the top of his head, lingering against him for some time before whispering sweetly against his disheveled hair, “I love you, Dante; you know that, right?”

The red devil turned his head to look at you better and placed a soft kiss against your lips, “I love you too babe,” he placed his head back on your chest, nuzzling into your hard, his arms wrapping tighter around you, “So damned much.”

ENDING NOTES: ;skfajfjlkdsjafkldj this wasn’t supposed to be this long--it’s 22 pages in docs; how the fuck-- This was supposed to be a short Dante smut fic, what happened lmaooo 🍊🍊🍊 Quick thing: If you are curious as to why I think a younger Dante would have issues with how he looks; it is because it reminds him of Vergil (Vergil has the same issue when his hair is down, thinking he looks like his brother--I mean, they are twins after all). 🍊🍊🍊 You know, I have written quite a bit of smut, right? So you’d think that I would stop laughing and getting embarrassed over writing words like “nipple” or “balls” but no, I fucking still giggle to myself like a fucking idiot when I write those words like… wtf is wrong with me smh Like I sit here typing one letter at a time all flustered when writing those two words specifically even though I just wrote about Dante fingerings the reader or like the reader linking Dante’s pre-cum like wtf is wrong with me lmaooo

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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ghoulsister1 · 7 months

Text

●▪︎We Were Going To Be A Family▪︎●

Dante Sparda x Female Reader. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. TW: Miscarriage. This doesn't start off well. Heartbreak. Dealing with loss. Grief. Dante comforts Reader because Dante is the best and most sweetest half-Devil husband. There is hope. There is a happy ending I promise.

⚠️Warning: This story contains and features the topic of miscarriage. Miscarriage is a very sensitive subject to some people, so if you are uncomfortable with this subject in any way, please do not read. Please note this is my first time writing such a topic, I do not want to come off as offensive or insensitive in anyway so please understand. Thank you.⚠️

Requested by @xx-scene-queen-of-vampires-xx

●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

The day you were told you were pregnant was you and Dante's most exciting moment. You and Dante prepped and got everything ready in anticipation for the baby. Until one day, you awoke to the worst case scenario every expecting mother fears. Now you are unsure how to proceed in the aftermath. But your loving husband Dante isn't going to let you go through this alone.

You remember the day you told Dante to take you to the hospital after you woke up to throw up last night's take-out and realising your monthly was late.

You remember sitting nervously in the waiting room with Dante, anxiously biting your nails and Dante tapping his foot nervously as you both awaited results. Then the doctor called you both in.

You remember feeling nervous until the doctor told you the words.

"You are pregnant"

You remember looking at Dante, nervously. Then you felt joy at seeing Dante give you the biggest, most happiest grin ever and you both shared a joyful laughter as he picked you up and spun you around, holding gently on to you as you giggled.

Dante leaned forward and planted a big kiss on your head.

"I'm gonna be a Dad" Spoke Dante excitingly and softly.

"I'm gonna be a Mom" You Gasped, feeling the excitement bubbling.

"A badass Mom!" Remarked Dante winking at you as you giggled.

"And you, a badass Dad" You Replied back and kissed Dante with happy tears in your eyes.

Everything went great. Dante told Vergil and Nero about it, you told the girls Kyrie, Trish, Nico and Lady. Patty and Morrison stopped by to give their congratulations and you couldn't be happier.

The weeks flew by. You and Dante were building the nursery, Nico and Nero helping Dante build the crib. You didn't know what colour to paint the nursery.

"Pink!" Cried Patty excitedly.

"What if the baby's a boy?" You Asked Patty sweetly.

"Blue then!" Patty Replied.

"Yeah but we don't know if the baby's a girl or boy" Dante Remarked. You nodded as the baby's gender was still unknown.

"How about a different colour than the traditional colours? Maybe a nice bright yellow?" You Suggested.

"Or a flaming hot red?" Suggested Dante.

"How about green?" Patty Asked.

"Green? That actually sounds nice. Green is a lovely colour" You Replied smiling softly as Patty danced around excitingly. For an 18 year old, Patty was still full of beans as ever.

Kyrie took you shopping, picked out cute baby clothes and maternity clothes. Looking at the purchased baby shoes, your heart raced excitedly as you thought of the baby, waddling around in these shoes.

You and Dante attended appointments with the doctors and made sure to take your prenatals. Everything was going great. You and Dante were looking forward to the day you'd meet your child.

It was all going well......until it wasn't. One morning, you woke up to blood staining the bedsheets and pain shooting through you. Panic immediately set in. It was too early, far too early for the baby.

You were rushed to hospital and down the hospital's hallways as Dante held your hand throughout. You turned to the doctor, begging for answers.

"Doctor, it's too early for the baby! It's too early! Is something wrong?!" You Cried, panicking.

"Everything's all right, we're gonna help you" The Doctor would say but you didn't feel reassured. The doctors wheeled you into the room and Dante was made to wait outside the room.

After a hour or so, the doctor came out and told Dante the most heart crushing news no expecting father to be has to hear.

"Your wife has suffered a miscarriage. I'm very sorry Mr. Sparda. This is a very difficult situation and I understand if you need a moment or two" Explained the doctor.

Dante's heart sank. The child you and Dante made together, the child you both were eager to meet, was gone. Not even beginning to live and already their life was snuffed out.

And Y/N? Oh god was she okay?

"My wife! How's is she? Please tell me she's alright" Asked Dante tearfully.

"Your wife's condition is stable. She'll be alright. Though this unfortunate news will not be easy to take in. Let her rest first, in the morning you can go in to her. She'll need you when we tell her the unfortunate news" Explained the doctor.

And Dante was there, holding your hand as you screamed and cried upon hearing the news. Dante held you close as you sobbed into his chest, your heart utterly broken. Dante's eyes welled up with tears and he too quietly sobbed with you. But there was one thing you wanted to know.

"Was it a girl? Or a boy?" You Asked tearfully.

The doctor looked at his notes and looked at you with sympathy.

"It was a girl" Answered the doctor and a wave of hot tears came over you and Dante as you both held on to each other and cried.

When you were cleared to go home, you felt like a zombie. You'd walk past the nursery and see the crib, empty and cold. The green paint and design of the room mocked you, the toys you received from friends and family, taunting you. Worst was holding the shoes you picked out for the baby, it's small size making your heart shatter all over again as fresh tears welled in your eyes as you clutched the baby shoes close to your chest and sobbed.

"This wasn't supposed to happen! We were supposed to be a family! Why did this happen to us? Why?" You Sobbed loudly.

Dante came upstairs and took you into his arms as you both sat on the floor of the nursery.

"I'm sorry Dante" You Whimpered.

"Hey, don't say that. Don't ever apologise for something that we couldn't control. You did everything right, you ate good and took your prenatals. We went to the appointments, we did everything we could" Explained Dante as he held you in his arms.

"But why? We were gonna be a family. We were gonna have a little girl" You Sniffled.

"I don't know why babe. I wish I knew, some people would say it wasn't meant to be but I honestly don't know what to say to make this better. Maybe there's nothing to say to make this all better. But i know one thing. I love you Y/N and I know this feeling won't heal overnight but I promise I'll be here by your side. You don't have to go through this alone. We'll do this together, I promise you Y/N" Declared Dante.

You both looked into each other's teary eyes.

"We'll get through this" Dante Assured you.

"Together?" You Asked, feeling so much love for your husband in that moment and even though the pain will not go away overnight, you knew you didn't have to go through this alone.

"Always" Replied Dante and together you both shared a comforting embrace, tears falling from both each other's eyes.

That was 3 years ago and looking back on that terrible moment, you were thankful for your husband. Friends and family came together for you two and with their support, your recovery from this traumatic chapter in your lives began. It was a slow recovery, there were times where things got hard but you and Dante had each other and slowly you both pulled through.

To help with copying with the loss, You and Dante kept the pregnancy scan photos, along with a pink hair ribbon, a pair of baby shoes and a small teddy in a decorative box on the mantlepiece, a sort of memorial to the little girl you and Dante were hoping to meet. You both named her "Danielle".

3 years on and you both pulled through, stronger and closer than ever. You looked over to the mantlepiece and smiled softly.

You then turned to the window and smiled when you felt Dante's arms wrap around you.

"Hey babe" Purred Dante happily as he nuzzled your neck lovingly.

"Hey honey" You Replied and turned to kiss your husband's scruffy cheek. You both chuckled and continued looking out the window, deep in thought.

"Something on your mind?" Asked Dante softly.

"Nothing much. Just....." You Began but stopped yourself. Dante frowned, confused.

"What's wrong babe?" Asked Dante turning you around to face him. You felt unsure how to tell him what you were thinking.

"It's just......" You Began.

"Go on" Spoke Dante softly.

"I wanna try again" You Answered.

Dante looked shocked, then surprised.

"You mean, try for a baby?" Dante Asked nervously. You nodded.

"I think I'm ready. But if you're not, we can always wait Dante" You Assured him, smiling softly.

"Only if you are sure you're ready babe" Said Dante.

"I am" You Confirmed, confident.

"Alright then. Shall we take this upstairs?" Asked Dante, smirking. You giggled softly and let Dante carry you upstairs.

"Yes, my darling husband" You Remarked and you two proceeded upstairs.

A few weeks later, you were confirmed to be pregnant. Naturally you and Dante were nervous, given what happened 3 years ago. But soon it was apparent, this time was going to be different.

9 months later, you gave birth to a beautiful boy. You and Dante named him Julian. And you both promised little Julian that when he grows up, you will tell him about his sister who went on to become an angel and watch over you, Dante and baby Julian.

●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

❤️‍🩹Okay, so that was a lot of angst. And I due to the subject of the story, I decided to put in a happy ending for reader and Dante. It would feel wrong of me to leave it here without giving it at least a happy ending❤️‍🩹

Thanks again for the request👍❤️

#devil may cry dante #dante x reader #dante sparda #dante son of sparda #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry #devil+may+cry+x+reader #fanfiction requests #fanfiction #tw miscarriage #angst #angst with a happy ending

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crying-fantasies · 1 year

Text

Dante has know you for some time now, he is kind of sure that you have a serious problem at the moment that you appeared in his life for the first time.

"I'm here to proliferate the blood of Sparda"

No one was so straight forward in saying that they wanted something like that in his face without even saying hi first when he opened the door.

Of course, he was taken by surprise, it was the very first time that someone asked to have sex with him in such a way.

You looked almost his age, maybe you were older? Younger? He wasn't sure, you just had a confidence in your words even when you seemed about to faint and your cheeks couldn't be more red, your hands aren't shaking but he could notice your pale knuckles while you hold them together in a dignified posture with your body totally rigid.

Do you really wanted to be there, in front of his business door, asking him for that?

His 19 years old self only understood the part of Sparda, that's his pops, alright, but what that had to do with this? And also, who says 'proliferate' in the actual world?

"So..." He leaned against the door frame, practically flashing you with his bare chest and what he believed to be a lady killer smile, "you wanna come inside?"

Okay, it wasn't his best line, he can admit that now, but apparently that was enough to the inexperienced you that just was sent out of the cult territory in where you had been since a young age, with the only objective of doing what you just said.

It was so rare, so strange, and he can say with all the truth in his body that he has seen quite the amount of strange things.

"Of course" and then you only entered his place like nothing, it was going to be interesting, at least for him, while you, innocent and naive you, even believed that he desired children in the first place.

Oh, this was just the beginning of your years of struggle to keep Sparda's bloodline alive.

#reader insert #x reader #angst #spotify #dante x reader #dante dmc #dmc fandom #dante sparda #dmc sparda #vergil #nero dmc

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rodeoxqueen · 10 months

Note

Howdy Miss Rodeo, I've been havin some angst brewin in my brains as of late but damn do I suck at writin (More on the visual side of things here lol) I was wonderin, reader slowly watchin Dante fall in love with someone else? Like, long term relationship but bein Fully human, reader just, can't keep up anymore, if you ain't comfortable with this that is Perfectly okay and I understand, thank you for takin the time to read this though

Sincerely- Anon

I wasn’t able to go too far with this because of writer’s block from ages ago but I tried my darnedest.

-Rodeo.

"Isn't it enough that I can love you?" Dante wiped the tear from your cheek, eyes dark with sorrow.

"I know that. It's got nothing to do with you."

Of course, you scoff as tears continue to roll down your face.

"It's Lady , isn't it." You don't even want to keep fighting after seeing how they look at each other in the moments when you're staring at Dante wishing he would look at you like that.

You want to hate her, but that means hating the idea of Dante being happy with someone.

It just can't be with you.

You want to set the whole world on fire to make up for how you feel on the inside. You wish you could hate Dante, to make up for this agonizing love you have in your heart.

It's getting late, you're drunk and Dante is watching you fall apart after you tried to make yourself a ghost, finding you at a bar where the bartender cut you off. It didn’t stop you from drinking when he got you back home.

You had lit a cigarette. Dante knew you didn't smoke. But he's not surprised. Humans always fall when they get mixed up with devils.

He's not trying to hurt you really. He doesn't want that. You can't be friends. You can't be lovers. He's got history with Lady and there's something about her that drags him away from what other choices of people are there for him.

"I love you." You say again, rubbing your raw and tired eyes.

"It'll pass, it always does with me. I promise I'm not that great of a guy." Dante tries to put out this little death he's watching. He doesn't want to see this as much as you don't want to feel it.

"You saved my life. You are my life."

It's such a heavy sentence, knowing how the decades he's known you as well are a commitment to him already.

But no matter what, he can't feel what is eating you from the inside. The idea of him.

"I can't be that person for you."

You laugh, seeing the drink you tried to pour for yourself just by the counter. Dante had stopped you, deciding you had more than enough in drowning in suffering.

"I know."

You're staring at a wall for what seems like forever, and eventually Dante leaves in the silence, knowing nothing he can say can fix this.

When he leaves, the door shuts and he hears a howl of anguish. A glass shatters.

Nothing can fix this. Dante can't fix this, like all things, and he has to walk away and leave you this heep of shattered heart and bleeding palms.

He doesn't know what happens to you after he gives you time. He wants to go back to see how you're doing but he won't. It isn't until he sees a listing of your old apartment that he realizes you left Redgrave entirely.

Lady kisses him and he kisses her back. You're in the shadows of them again, a husk and a ghost that had to leave.

#rodeo draft.#devil may cry #dante x reader #devil may cry headcanons #dante #angst

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luv4berry · 10 months

Text

my eyes only.

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY: miles belleves that you're for him and for him only, no sharing. not even with your best friend.

GENRE: angst to fluff

WARNINGS: bickering/arguing, suggestive(?), kissing, idk if this counts as toxic miles lowkey right in his anger but at the same time is he fr, jealous miles, y/n is lowkey a walking red flag, cursing, man idk

AUTHORS NOTE: the autism is rlly autisming with this movie </3

“baby you not stupid and i know you aren’t, why you acting like that?”

“miles, leave me alone.”

“nah, cause i already told you ion like him, why you still talking to him? you fuckin’ with him or sum?” he narrows his eyes at you, clasping his hands in between his legs while cocking his head to the side.

“im not having this conversation with you, call me when you done having your lil tantrum or whatever.” you ignore your boyfriend's scowl as you slide to the end of his bed and silently load everything into your coach tote bag, incoherently mumbling to yourself.

“the childish shit im talking about man.” he shakes his head, twin braids following suit. he gets out of his rolling chair, snagging the bag from your hands and holding it above his head where you can’t reach.

visibly annoyed, you roll your eyes at the tantrum he was throwing. before you had even dated him you laid down all possible icks, including your best friend. you told him how your relationship with said best friend was non-negotiable due to the significance he held in your life before miles. before miles, he was the one who you cried to, who you confined in about your family, your feelings, your insecurities. though after getting with miles you weren’t as close with him, he was still your best friend.

“miles give me my shit, don’t piss me off.”

“why? what you hiding? ain’t no way you not messing with him.”

in the stillness of his room, your phone rapidly vibrates inside your bag, miles interest immediately piqued when his fingers curve around the device, the name “dante <3” flashing on the screen.

he laughs to himself, but you knew better than to think it was a laugh of amusement. the manner of his laugh was deeply provoked, a telltale sign that it had an underlying meaning. he sends you a hard look, “so we adding hearts now too? bet.” he says while answering the facetime call.

“y/n?” dante calls out to you, the camera panned toward the ceiling, his ruffled locs in frame.

“nah she busy right now homeboy, what you want?”

“uh okay? can you ask her if she can retwist my hair this sunday?”

“nah.” he blatantly answers.

“huh?”

“dante hang up!” you call out from behind miles, to which he sends you another glare. before dante can respond miles hangs up, turning his whole body to face you. “so wassup?”

“miles give me my phone.”

“your phone? ma this our phone.” you roll your eyes once more and quickly snatch your phone from his grasp, shoving it into the tote bag and slipping your black crocs on. “don’t text my phone either.” you yell on your way out slamming his room door, silently praying that mama rio wasn’t home.

it was getting more and more difficult to manage the pit that sat in your bosom from the fight you had with your boyfriend earlier. you were used to talking to him in your dimly lit room around this time, your hands playing with the loose coils at the back of his head while saying cheesy things to each other, exchanging light pecks and subtle touches.

you groan loudly, tired of sulking to yourself you decide to get up from your bed, do your makeup and take pictures. you sit at your vanity, shuffling your playlist while opening up your makeup bag.

about 20 minutes into your routine, you hear incoherent voices coming from just outside your door. you tip toe towards the door, peaking your head out to see miles, helping your mom set the dinner table while engaging in small talk. “yeah, basketball’s good.” he says, smiling at her with all 32 pearly whites.

“y/n’s upstairs, ill call you guys down when dinners ready.” she smiles, coaxing him towards your room. you quietly shut the door, scrambling towards your vanity table, acting as if you had not witnessed the scene that took place just outside your door mere seconds ago.

you hear him quietly enter and creep up behind you, the mirror capturing his movements. you line your lips, ignoring your lovers presence even when he wraps his arms around your torso and repeatedly kisses your face.

“who you looking all fine for?”

you greet him with nothing but silence, putting your manicured finger over his lips which he attempts to bite.

“oh so it’s like that?”

“yeah, it’s like that, and I didn’t invite you over. go home.” you get up from your position, walking towards the door that he left open, closing it.

“what i told you ‘bout that mouth? you got all sorts of attitude today.” he argues, trailing behind you.

you scoff while crossing your arms, turning around and mean mugging him. you watch as he takes a moment and backs up, giving you a once over. the argument that had him so worked up earlier dissipated into thin air, his focus now on the biker shorts that hugged you a little too tight, and the cropped cami that hung a little too loosely. you watch a ghost of a smile adorn his lips.

“nasty ass.” you snap him out of his thoughts.

he snorts, taking a seat on your bed and pulling you in between his legs. “you still mad at me?” he questions you, raising his brows.

“it’s not gonna magically go away miles, you didn’t even try to apologize, showing up at my house at 8:00 kissing me and shit isn’t gonna fix anything.” it was the truth, and you weren’t backing down from it. you wanted an apology, you weren’t willing to go any further with him till you got said apology, you couldn’t push this to the side.

“y/n, baby, you know i love you but im not fucking with the way you making it look like im wrong for feeling the way i feel.” miles argued.

“because you are wrong! i told you about him before we even got together, you can’t expect me to drop him in 2 seconds just because you asked, he’s my best friend!” you argue back, keeping your voice down cautiously due to your nosy family on the other side of the door.

“no ma, im your best friend, you for my eyes only.”

“if you came here to argue with me you should just go.”

“we don’t sleep mad at eachother, we fixing this right now.” he says, dragging you into a straddling position atop him, his arms momentarily wrapping around your waist. your eyes dart around your room, refusing to make eye contact in fear of folding immediately.

“i just want you to put it this way, you got this fine ass girl, right? but then she got this ugly ass—“

“miles.” you warn him.

“… she got this boy best friend that she always on the phone with, always going out with, and she always wanna see him when you’re right there. she always talking about him, texting him when with you, answering his calls.” for the first time in a while you realize how off that sounds, maybe you had been the wrong one, though your stubborn nature made it hard to admit it.

he begins to speak again, “im not asking you to cut him off, im asking you to minimize how much you talk to him—im a guy and i know how we think. you might think y’all homeboys but he plotting on you, just think of it like that baby.” he finished while rubbing the skin of your thighs in slow tender circles.

“im sorry.” you quietly murmur under your breath into his shoulder. just barely loud enough so he can hear. but no, he had to hear this, you admitting you made a mistake.

he taps your thigh, “speak up, cant hear you.”

“you heard me, don’t be annoying.” you said when you realized his true intent, embarrassed by how you had previously acted.

miles snickered to himself, “ma?”

“yeah?”

“my fault for getting loud with you earlier, i didn’t mean to do all that.” he admitted, kissing your shoulder blade.

you remove your head from the crevice between his neck and shoulder, repeatedly giving him big smooches on the lips in acceptance of his apology which he gladly returns.

the moment is ruined by knocking on the door. you scramble off his lap which ultimately ends with you landing on the floor with a thud. snickers come from your bed, a deadpan expression immediately sweeping over your features.

“hope y’all not in there being nasty.” your mother calls out, “get decent and come downstairs to eat.”

love, berry <3

#miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv miles #atsv x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales

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zepskies · 4 months

Note

Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back

Hey lovely!

So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."

But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.

When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."

But the spark. That spark is instant.

He feels it with you.

Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.

It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.

But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.

Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")

You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.

Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.

Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.

But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.

And Dean...he likes you. A lot.

More than he's ever willingly expressed.

But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.

Until he can't help himself.

It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.

But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.

It's just a fucking cake.

Does it really matter that much to you?

But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."

It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.

"Sure," Sam laughs.

What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.

He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.

That smile tells him something.

"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.

At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.

"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.

"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.

"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.

"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.

A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.

You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"

Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.

"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"

You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."

Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.

"Close your eyes for me," you request.

"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"

"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"

He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.

For a moment, he freezes.

He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.

Relief floods in its wake.

A smile reaches his face.

But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.

He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.

It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.

You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.

Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"

Your smile is beaming bright.

"Yeah, that works."

Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.

And he answers you again.

AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉

Read Sam’s version: “Sam reads you wrong.”

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Dean reads you wrong #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #reader requests #ask me stuff #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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lqveharrington · 4 months

Text

Holidays | C.S.

summary: your first holiday/christmas outside of the districts

pairing: politician!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: mainly fluff, reader is from district 12 (this is very important in this one-shot), coriolanus is manipulative in this (not a lot, but still), angst if you squint.

a/n: happy holidays 🎄

Despite living in the Capitol, your spirits were up when the holidays came around. Those living at the Capitol had many decorations up and participated in festivities that would certainly get those in the districts in trouble.

As the chosen wife of — the sudden rise to power and wealth — Coriolanus Snow, you were also put into the impression that you were to make this holiday season the best for you and your husband.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Coriolanus told you that he was to work late, strategizing to help his campaign as he was running for president next year. Of course, you were used to this and gave him a kiss bye as you started your day with the festivities that you used to do back in your home.

By the time Coriolanus came home, it was late and he assumed you were sleeping already. What he did not know was that you were still in the kitchen baking cookies and decorating gingerbread house while playing music from your record collection.

“Why are you still up so late?” Coriolanus wrapped his arms around your hips, resting his head on your shoulder.

You grin at his presence, shifting to meet his eyes. “I wanted to surprise you with cookies and a pretty gingerbread house.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” He kisses your cheek.

“I would like to think so.” You pop a gum drop into your mouth, taking one of your earlier cookies you made from the counter. “Want some?”

He hummed, opening his mouth. You broke a piece off and gave it to him, waiting for a reaction of some sort.

“Well?”

“It’s delicious.” He swallowed, reaching for the rest of the cookie in your hand. “I think I should take them all.”

You let out an airy laugh, handing him the baked good. “I think you should help me decorate this house so we can go to bed. I’m sure you’re tired, Coryo.”

———

“What are you doing now?” Coriolanus asked you as he got out of the bathroom, hair still wet. He brought the a towel to his head, watching you stand outside on the balcony. “My love, you’re going to catch a cold staying out there.”

“I know…” You mess with your silk robe, rubbing the sleeve with your thumb. “Just give me a few more seconds. I want to check off the last thing I used to do back in 12 for Christmas Eve.”

He refrained from scoffing at the mention of District 12, slipping one arm around your waist. “You don’t remember how bad it was back there before I saved you? Why do things that bring back memories of those days being treated like a peasant?”

You stayed quiet, listening to his words intently.

“I believe you should be grateful you aren’t spending time in the freezing weather and instead participate in the fun activities in the Capitol. Where you belong.” He pecked your cheek. “Unless you want to go back… Then that can easily be arranged.”

“No, don’t.” You frown, looking up at the shining moon. “I love it here. A lot. And, I’m really grateful for it, really.”

“Good answer.” He runs his hand up to your chin, tilting it so you would face him. “Just this one thing and then come to bed, okay?”

You nod, pecking his lips. “Thank you… Love you.”

Coriolanus smiles at you, pressing one last tentative kiss to your lips and leaving for the bed, not bothering to take the time to understand what you were doing.

Leaning against the cement railings, your focus moves back to the bright moon, smiling sadly at it.

“I promise I’ll be back and see you again…” You whisper into the crisp, night air, the wind lightly blowing at your skin. “We’ll be okay. Just watch over mom for me. I’ll see you both again.”

You check your watch for the time, the second hand hitting the twelve. “From your somewhat cool older sister: Merry Christmas, Dante Everdeen.”

read more about coriolanus snow here !!

a/n pt2: MING BLOWING 🤯 she’s related to katniss, isn’t that silly :)

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aalyssah · 1 year

Text

Give Me Your Time

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Angst/Fluff!

Word Count: 2,101

Summary: Roman’s so busy with his work, he doesn’t realize the damage it’s doing to you, until you confess to him about it.

A/N: A sorta long fic for Roman! Hope You Enjoy!

The Big Dog. The Enforcer/Muscle of The Shield. Your Tribal Chief. All those names and many more represent one man and that's Roman Reigns.

It's no secret that he might be Vince's favorite, but he's also yours. He's a great wrestler, husband, and Dad, but recently he hasn't been showing the last two.

He's been so caught up in work that sometimes you feel like you're not even together. You understand that being the champion of 2 brands isn't easy, but all you ask was for some time and today was no different.

You were doing your daughters' hair while your sons ran around with their toy cars. "Kai, Dante, stop running around the house!" You scolded them once more. Last time they ended up tripping and busting their lip.

You finished up your daughter's hair with a few edges. "You're done, baby." Lani took off running, making you sigh in defeat. Just then, Roman walked in, in his swim trunks. He finally has a day off and he planned to take y'all to the beach.

The kids are excited to go after not going for months. You stood up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They won't stop running." You said, leaning your head against his chest.

"Lani, Kai, and Dante, stop running!" The kids stopped running at the sound of their father's voice. "Thank you." You placed a small kiss to his lips, feeling his arms come to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

You two were broken apart when you felt a small tug at the end of your shorts. "Mommy, can we go now?" You looked back at Roman, after seeing him nod. "Yup, just let me grab our bag and to the beach we go!"

The kids cheered as Roman walked them outside and to the car. You grabbed the basket filled with things such as sunscreen, sandwiches, and towels before locking up and getting in the car.

Roman stood outside on the phone saying something you couldn’t hear due to the music and kids. He got in and began driving. At first you thought he was taking y'all to the beach until you saw a familiar curve in the road.

Were y'all going to the arena? Your question was answered when he parked in front of the arena. "Roman?" Roman unbuckled his seatbelt, looking back at you with a sympathetic look. "They need me for something. It's only gonna take 5 minutes."

You gave him the benefit of the doubt, waiting for almost 20 minutes until a text came to your phone from Roman. 'They need me for a promo tonight. Take the kids to the beach. I'll make it up to you.'

You shook your head in shame, getting out to the drivers side. "What about Daddy, Mommy?" The youngest called out. "Sorry, bubs. Daddy had to work, but we're still going!" You tried to cheer them up, but their cries didn't go unnoticed.

You still took them to the beach, and ended up having a good time. Although they kept asking about Roman, they still had fun. Family beach day failed.

That was the first strike.

The second one was when he planned to make it up to you by having dinner.

He made reservations for the hottest restaurant in town, telling you to wear something fancy. He even called his Mom and asked them to watch over the kids. Everything was ready and set up for a fun night.

You walked out the room, calling out for Roman. "Ro, come here for a sec, and tell me how I look!" Roman came around the corner, heart jumping out his chest. You were gorgeous. Hair perfectly framing over your face, the red dress clinging to your body, showing your curves.

He loved it. He slowly approached you, pulling you into a kiss. “I'm guessing you like it?" Roman nodded his head, biting his lip. "You look perfect." He looked at the time. "Reservations at 8, come on." He guided you onto the car, opening the door for you.

He drove to the restaurant, having small talk with you. When you walked through the door, y'all went up to the front desk. "Reservations for Reigns." The lady checked the list. "Yes, right this way." The waitress sat you both down and took your orders. "This is nice thanks, Ro."

Roman smiled, intertwining his hand with yours. "You deserve it, and I just wanted to apologize for-" Roman couldn’t finish his sentence when his phone rang. He picked it up, listening and answering. "Yeah, I'll be there in 15." You looked at him, confused by what he meant.

Again, he gave you the same look as before. "I'm sorry, baby, but they need me again. Here." He dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet, placing a $50 bill. "Use this to get a cab and please get my food to go." He placed a kiss on your cheek, leaving you there alone.

Not even 10 minutes in the date and he was already leaving. You couldn't believe this. Your husband just left you in the middle of an apology dinner for doing the same thing he's doing now, and not only that, but had the audacity to give you money for a cab after taking the car.

Just then, the waitress came by with the two plates of food. "Uh, can I get the check and a to go plate?" The waitress left and came back with the check and plate. That's when you realized, Roman didn't leave any money. The meal was $286 and you only had $220.

You cursed under your breath, frantically searching through your purse. You could feel tears come to your eyes as you found no money. The waitress took the money, giving you a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's okay. I'll handle the rest." You gave the woman a hug, thanking her before ordering the cab. Date night failed

That was the second strike.

The third time came about when you were both Mom and Dad on your side and his called, asking for a family dinner. You agreed, wanting to all be together.

The table was neatly set, the living room clean, and food was ready. You went all out. A knock at the door made you open it revealing your Mom and Dad. "Mom, Dad!" They both pulled you into a bone crushing hug. "We missed you so much, sweetheart!"

You smiled, when seeing Roman's parents come out of their car. Everyone came inside and sat at the table. "Roman, kids, they're here!" The kids came running down the steps, engulfing their grandparents in a hug.

Roman shortly came down in silence. You said your prayers and began digging in. It was all going well, the small talk, talking about work, and family until Roman’s cell phone rang.

You prayed and hoped to god that it wouldn't be his work, but of course when he gave you that look, you knew what was happening. "Sorry, everyone. I have a meeting about a match. Love you Ma and Pops." He gestures to everyone and gave the kids a quick kiss. "Be good for Mommy, and I'll take you out for a treat."

You chuckled, mumbling, 'As if you'll stay for it.' When the door slammed shut, you softly threw the fork against the plate, the loud clattering heard. "Kids, eat up, so you can go to bed." The kids obeyed, eating their meat and vegetables on their plate.

Your Parents and In-Laws looked at you with worry. The kids finished, gave them bathes, and tucked them into bed. You walked out to the living room, only to be met with everyone. "Sorry about dinner. I didn't think he would leave that fast."

Your parents scrunched their eyebrows down in confusion. "What do you mean leave?" You chuckled at the thought. "He always plans something special, but not even 20 minutes in, he leaves for work." Everyone took in what you said.

“But it's alright." Everyone and worry on their face at how numb you became. "I don't wanna hold y'all up, I'll call you tomorrow.” You sent them off, ignoring their protests. They could all see how hurt you were from his absence.

You showered yourself, and changed into his shirt and a pair of panties before going to sleep. Big family dinner failed.

Third strike, you're out!

Normally they say '3rd times the charm,' but in this case, you would never want this. You were tired of it and you were gonna make sure to voice your opinions next time.

You woke up to the feeling of something heavy over your waist. You turned over to see Roman's arm draped around your waist, his body facing you.

You smiled, tracing the tattoos on his arm and chest, causing him to stir awake. "Baby girl, what are you doing?" A smile grew on your face as he suddenly pulled you to him, attacking you by tickling your sides. "Roman, Ro, stop!"

You tried fighting back, but he didn't stop. For the fourth time, his phone rang. Before he could reach over to it, you grabbed it, hanging up. "Y/n, what the hell!" You sat up, looking at him. "No more answering your phone. It's raining outside and I want you to stay with me."

You tried to cuddle into his chest, but he pushed you back. "Look, I don't have time for this. They probably need me." Roman went to get up, but your words made him stop. "Of course you don't have time, you never do!" He looked back at you with a challenging look. "What do you mean?" You hummed, putting a finger on your chin.

"Well, let's see. My husband leaves me for work everyday, he leaves me and the kids at the beach when it was supposed to be a family beach day, you leave me at an expensive restaurant after ordering food. Hell, you even took the car with you. And then lastly, you left me my Mom and Dad, as well as your own at the dinner table because your job called you."

Roman didn't know what to say at your long rant. "And guess what that left me to do?" You gave him a minute to respond, but nothing came out. "At home, crying every night after taking care of our kids because their Dad’s job is more important than his family.” Your voice grew louder as it cracked.

Roman wanted to reach his hand out, but stopped, not knowing if you wanted to be touched. "All I ask for is time Roman. I just want you to give me your time,but you never give it!" You broke down completely, head hanging low as you sobbed.

That's when Roman finally grabbed you, pulling you into his chest. He gently rocked you back and forth, murmuring apologies. “I’m sorry, baby. I promise I’ll do better.” You sniffled, pulling to look back at him. “Then prove it, Roman. Prove to me and the kids that you’re gonna give us attention.”

You broke apart from his hold and ended up going asleep from all the crying. Roman just sat there, looking up at the ceiling, thinking of what he should do. He then did the unthinkable. He grabbed his phone, calling Vince. Within two rings, he picked up.

“Thank god you answered, Roman! I need you to come-” Roman cut his boss off. “Before you finish your sentence, I want to request a month off.” Vince became silent in the other line. “W-what? Why?” Roman sighed, looking over at your sleeping form.

“My wife and kids need me right now.” Vince scoffed slightly. “Well, can’t they be grateful that you're a good wrestler? You bring in all the money, right?” Roman felt a bit annoyed at Vince’s reasoning.

“Yeah, I’m a good wrestler, but not a good husband or Dad and it’s all because of you. You got me coming in during an important moments in my life and you're messing my marriage and relationships up.”

Vince gulped at Roman’s loud voice, full of anger. “I don’t care if you don’t give me my break, I’m still gonna do it, so you can fire me or whatever, but we both know you’re nothing without me.”

Roman hung up, looking over at you. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the side of your face. “I’m gonna give you all my time next month, baby.” He cuddled back into you, missing the smile that formed on your face.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fluff #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns wwe #wwe roman reigns #wwe fluff #wrestling fluff #wwe smut

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

Text

Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place.

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional.

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind.

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book.

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you.

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below.

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously.

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out.

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her.

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet.

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him.

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness.

"You're awfully quiet," she tries.

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave.

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right.

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams.

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed.

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?"

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus.

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room?

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug.

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?"

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice.

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull.

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders.

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time.

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman.

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met."

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo.

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea.

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist.

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this.

It's her.

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris.

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck.

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv.

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin.

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain."

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust.

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her.

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..."

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are."

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier.

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs.

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine.

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck…

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex.

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…"

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this.

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..."

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering…

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…"

"Yeah? I know."

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength.

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?"

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x female reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #cod fanfic

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noyaspeach · 8 months

Text

first light

Summary: Could this be how every day begins?

After a long and restless night with no sleep, you go looking for something to while away the hours. As it turns out, Astarion is just as much of an insomniac as you are, and the two of you spend the early morning together.

Pairing: Astarion x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 4,334

Tags: Fluff and Light Angst, Pining, Feelings Realization (Kinda?), Second Person POV, Soft Astarion, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Insomnia, Watching the Sunrise

Author's Note:

not me returning to fic-writing over 3 years later with an astarion fic of all things. i can't even guarantee i'll write another one considering i'm about to start college again, but i would sure like to!

i was heavily inspired to write this because of the release of hozier's album. it perfectly aligned with me becoming obsessed with baldur's gate 3, and astarion is just so hozier-coded, how could i not? as the title suggests, i was inspired by the song "first light" which is the last song on the album, based on dante's ascent out of hell and his first taste of light and freedom. i imagine it's how astarion must have felt when he was no longer forced to do cazador's bidding and when he could finally experience sunlight again.

obligatory disclaimers: i haven't actually played the game yet, so this fic is informed by clips i've seen online, gif sets, the baldur's gate wiki, and other fics. if any details in this aren't chronologically sound or if anything seems a little non-compliant with the canon of the game... now you know why lol.

still, i hope you enjoy it! this is also posted to ao3! read here!

///

You stare up at the ceiling of your tent, frustration rolling in your chest as you struggle to rest. Your eyes are beginning to sting with the lack of sleep, but simply closing them does nothing to help. You’ve gone through all of your belongings twice already, looking for something to ease you into slumber, but no amount of reading or alcohol seems to do the trick. It certainly doesn’t help that the weather has been oppressively humid all night, leaving you coated in a thin, sticky layer of sweat that doesn’t seem to leave you no matter how many layers you shed.

You can’t bear to lay around in the thick air of your tent, so you decide to sit out by the extinguished campfire in the hopes that it will do more to relax you.

You quietly open your tent flap and emerge into the mild morning air. It’s much cooler outside, and a light breeze tickles your arm, already doing wonders to dry your sweat. It’s still too early for daylight, so the camp is only dimly illuminated by the moonlight. With the lack of light, you listen out for the sounds of the forest around you: the chirps of insects beneath you, hooting owls in the distance, and a trickling stream not too far away. Focusing on these scarce sounds, you already feel much calmer.

After a moment of peace, you hear a rustle to your right. You whip your head toward the sound, hands ready at your weapon, when you see a familiar face emerge from the trees. You let your hands drop to your side again. It’s just Astarion. He appears to be returning to his tent, noticeably empty-handed. You wonder what he’s up to this early in the morning, and he seems to be wondering the same thing, eyeing you with an inquisitive raise of the eyebrow.

“Restless sleeper, are we?” He remarks.

“Something like that,” you reply. “Just needed some fresh air.”

You notice that Astarion is still in his sleepwear, the sleeves of his white undershirt pushed up above his elbows. “And what are you doing out?”

“Oh, you know. Searching for a midnight snack, so to speak.” He gestures to the woods behind him. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a very fine selection tonight.”

You grimace at the thought of Astarion catching an innocent woodland creature between his teeth. It’s a less-than-flattering image, one that’s informed by the memory of the boar he drained a while back, and one that you’re eager to dismiss.

“Is that all you’ve been up to?” You ask.

“Why? Were you getting lonely without me?” He teases. You can only roll your eyes in response. When he doesn’t receive a retort, Astarion sighs and continues. “Right, if you want an honest answer, I was going for a stroll to pass the time.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Wandering about on your own while everyone’s asleep isn’t a very good idea. If something happens out there, none of us will be able to save you”

“Trust me, darling, I can hold my own just fine. But I appreciate you worrying about my safety. It’s almost touching.” He smirks. “I would appreciate it even more if you would refrain from telling the others about my… routine here. I don’t exactly want the company.”

“Routine? How long have you been taking these walks?”

“Since the day I joined you all, I would say.” Astarion’s eyes move to the entrance of his own tent. “I haven’t been able to get much sleep myself, and I figure there isn’t much use laying on my bedroll if I’m not resting or satisfying… other needs. So, I walk. And occasionally feed.”

You search Astarion’s face for any sign of deception, but he’s being surprisingly truthful, if a little bashful. You resonate with his sleeplessness, being something of an insomniac yourself. Despite the immense toll your travels have taken on your body, you can’t seem to rest very easily at all, especially when you need it the most. Whether it’s the vivid memories of past battles replaying in your dreams, the smothering climate of whatever campsite you’ve picked out that night, or the relentless wriggling of the tadpole in your head, there’s always something keeping you up.

“I’m surprised I haven’t caught you earlier, then,” you say. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” says Astarion. He smiles, and it seems he means it too. “Well, seeing as neither one of us will be getting to bed anytime soon, would you care to join me?”

You cross your arms. “I thought you would have preferred to be alone.”

“Misery loves company and all. I think I can make an exception for a fellow night owl,” he drawls.

You agree to walk with him then and quietly head in the opposite direction of both tents. You’re sure to bring your weapon with you in the off chance that something—or someone—attacks the two of you. A very small part of you still garners some suspicion for Astarion himself, especially considering that night in which he tried to feed from you while you slept. Perhaps that’s another factor in your insomnia; although you let Astarion drink his fill that night, you can’t be entirely sure he won’t try it again. That he won’t succeed in creeping up on you and draining you completely.

You shiver at the thought, but pass it off as a cold chill from the wind. As the two of you slowly move from the campsite, your surroundings become even quieter. The chirping insects from before are silent now, and the nearby stream is barely a whisper. You can hardly hear either of your footsteps. It’s at once peaceful and unsettling.

After a few short minutes, you’re the first to break the silence. “What do you usually do when you’re out here?”

Astarion thinks for a moment, and hums. “Hmm. Aside from hunting, I suppose I just sit with my thoughts. There isn’t much else to do, is there?”

You nod, but somehow you don’t think being left with one’s own thoughts is particularly relaxing for anyone in your party. You can’t imagine it’s any good for Astarion, especially.

“And what do you think about?”

“So much,” he says. “Plans, mostly. Where our next destination is, where I’ll find my next meal, what I’ll do when we reach Baldur’s Gate, how to get rid of this wretched parasite…”

“Do you ever think about your past?”

Astarion’s gaze is a bit distant until you ask that. He slows his pace and turns to you, looking unusually serious. “I prefer not to.”

He leaves it at that, so you decide not to push further. You only know a little about Astarion’s life before the tadpole entered his mind. You know he’s the spawn of an even more powerful vampire, a master to whom he was a slave for nearly 200 years, and you know he’s lived in the shadows up until now. It isn’t lost on you that this entire adventure is his first taste of freedom in centuries. You understand why he would rather focus on the future. Still, your nagging curiosity makes you desperate for more information about him.

“What about you, my dear?” He returns to his more amused attitude. “What do you do in that tent of yours to pass the time until the morning comes? Don’t tell me if it’s anything naughty… Actually, do.”

You shake your head and suppress a smile as he actually almost earns a laugh from you. “Nothing like that. I normally just try to distract myself until I can hopefully fall back asleep. Read something, sort my wares, hum a tune. Anything to relax.”

“I take it that hasn’t been working for you?”

“No. Not one bit. I’m actually kind of worried it might start affecting my performance from now on. Unlike some of the elves in this team, I actually need quite a lot of rest.”

“A true shame,” he tuts. “Although it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t need to sleep for very long. On the other, I can’t sleep for very long. Sometimes I do wish I could simply let the whole day pass while I doze off. That would be much easier than just waiting it out.”

You hadn’t considered this. While the rest of your traveling companions are able to sleep through the night, Astarion has no choice but to wait for everyone to wake up around sunrise. All he can do is hope to get a few hours of rest before sitting through the unnerving silence of the night, the only unique sounds being the faint snores and mumbles that float from the other tents. You and he are alike in this struggle, but you at least are lucky enough to have a few nights when your exhaustion is bad enough to force you to bed.

“Well, taking a stroll like this is a good idea,” you finally say. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Astarion’s lips. “Thank you for joining me. I will admit, it’s easier to pass the time with a… friend… by my side.”

Your heart swells at that word: “friend.” It’s a welcome upgrade from whatever you two might have been considered before.

A few minutes pass with the both of you chatting politely. As you walk, you make note of your surroundings to ensure that you don’t stray too far from camp or encounter any traps. This occupies your mind for a while, but Astarion seems to be running out of topics to discuss. Not wanting him to abandon your little trip just yet, you try to think of something to entertain him. Looking out at the forest and the sky in front of you, you notice that the moon has begun its descent into the trees, meaning morning is almost upon you two. This gives you an idea.

You stop and pivot to face Astarion. He stops too, surprised at your sudden pause.

“What is it?” He asks.

"Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

He’s taken aback only momentarily before he adopts his familiar flirtatious demeanor. “Trying to turn this into a romantic tryst, are you? If you want something more, you’ll have to be a little more direct than that.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t mean anything by it. I want to know if you’ll sit and watch the sun come up with me. That’s all. It should be rising soon enough. It’s almost morning.”

He seems puzzled, his brows tightening and eyes scanning your face for any indication that you may be holding something back. When he doesn’t find anything, he settles back into an easy expression. “I seem to have misjudged. My apologies… Yes, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.”

“Great.” You smile and begin to walk again. “I heard some water earlier, so I think there may be a stream near here. Maybe it’ll make for a nice spot.”

Astarion follows as you lead him closer to the sound of running water, and the two of you shortly come upon the stream. It’s a small, shallow brook that separates the woods from which you emerge and another expanse of trees on the other side. Right along the edge of the water is a line of smooth rocks big enough to sit on. It’s the perfect place to set up, you think.

The two of you find purchase on the edge of the rocks, feet just barely dangling off the side, hovering above the calmly flowing water. The rocks aren’t terribly big, so the two of you sit side-by-side, your knees close enough to touch. Across the brook, the trees begin to thin out, leaving a clear view of the horizon. You estimate that the sun will start its ascent in the next few minutes, but for now, the scene in front of you remains thinly bathed in moonlight.

In the quiet of the dawn, the moon casts its silvery glow on the world beneath it. Every blade of grass, every dewy flower, every mossy stone radiates with a hazy blue hue. The stream beneath you reflects this onto both of your faces, and you give a sideways glance to your companion next to you. You watch as the light dances across his cheeks, admiring how it shines in his curls, how it glistens in his deep red eyes, and how it collects in the space just above his lips. You inhale and the earthy scent of the forest mixes with the smell of Astarion’s perfume in your nose. As you do so, you realize now just how close in proximity you are to him. You’re close enough to trace his silhouette from the slope of his nose to his slender neck with your fingers if you so choose. You glimpse at the puncture marks just below his jaw and remember once more the night you let him drink from you. You remember the moment you awoke in terror before you realized who was crouched above you. You remember the uncertainty you felt as you gave him permission to continue, not sure whether it was a wise decision or not. You remember the sharp sting of his teeth entering your skin and the almost exhilarating dizziness that followed as he coaxed your blood out with his tongue. The rest of that moment is a blur to you, but you can still distinctly recall how he cradled your head with one hand, the other gently ghosting down your spine. For almost a full day after that night, the smell of bergamot and rosemary lingered on your neck.

“You do know staring is rude, don’t you, darling?” Astarion says. “Not that I particularly mind.” He leans back on his arms and turns to face you. “Not when it’s you.”

Your cheeks flush in spite of the cool temperature. You wonder when it was you became so vulnerable to Astarion’s flirting. Even though you have, you try not to entertain it. After all, you suspect his charming behavior is at least partly a ruse.

“Sorry,” you mutter and look back at the horizon. “It’s very pretty out. It’ll be even prettier in just a few more minutes, too. We’re in the perfect spot to watch the sun come up.”

“Is that so?” Astarion tilts his head as he continues to behold you. “You know, I’ve never watched the sunrise like this.”

You twist to look at him again, utterly shocked. “Seriously? Not once?”

He shakes his head.

“How come?”

He sighs. “I’m sure I must have before… everything. But I can’t seem to remember anything from back then. I lost most of my memories when I was brought back, save for a few of the important details. I suppose sunrises weren’t important enough to stick.” He frowns and stares out at a canopy of trees in the distance. “Then, as you know, it would have been incredibly stupid for me to be out in the light with this condition of mine. So, I never tried. I didn’t have very many opportunities to do so, in any case.”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you let Astarion continue at his own pace.

“...I spent decades in my master’s lair, a- a dungeon, really. I was trapped in the darkness. The only time I was allowed out was when he needed fresh, new bodies, and even then it was always under the cover of night. For the longest time, that was all that I knew. In a way, it’s what I’m still used to…”

Suddenly his sleeplessness makes all the more sense to you.

“I know I’m free from that now, what with the tadpole and all, but…” He trails off. You understand.

After several beats of silence, you clear your throat.

“Once, when I was a child, I went playing in the woods with some of the other children in the village. There were maybe six of us in total? I don’t exactly remember. But we marched all the way from the market to the forest pretending we were a band of heroes. I was at the back of the line, right behind this boy that I really liked. I put myself there on purpose so that I could smile and blush as much as I wanted without him seeing me.”

“How cute,” Astarion comments with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I was being clever, but it was pretty silly, wasn’t it? Anyways, when we entered the woods, we decided to split off into teams to see who could find the most ‘treasure.’ We just plucked up sticks, flowers, beetles, pinecones, that kind of stuff. I was paired with the boy I liked, and I was so giddy about it. I wanted to show him just how cool I was, so I climbed up every tree and jumped off every rock. Just hearing him laugh and clap for me was enough for me to keep going. So, I did. Before we knew it, we realized we had strayed too far from the rest of the group. We tried to call out to them but heard nothing in return. We were lost.”

You pause your story to get a brief look at Astarion. You half-expect him to be bored by this point, but you’re surprised to see that he’s giving you his full attention. He waves his hand, signaling for you to continue.

“We started playing late into the evening, so by the time we realized that we had no clue where we were, the sun had already begun to set. I remember cursing myself for wishing I could have some alone time with this boy because that wasn’t at all what I had had in mind. But, alas, that was the situation I was stuck in. When it reached midnight and we still hadn’t made our way back to the village, I started panicking. You should know that I used to be deathly afraid of the forest at night. I was terrified of what kind of creatures could be hiding, waiting to snatch me up and eat me alive.”

“Hmm, like vampires?” Astarion teases.

You smirk. “Precisely. You’ll remember, though, that I was stuck with the boy I liked. So, there was no way I could show that I was scared. I couldn’t display any sign of weakness or else he might not think I was as cool as I let off. Knowing this, I put on a brave face and silently begged the gods for some protection before I assembled a makeshift camp for the two of us. It was, admittedly, very shitty, but it did its job of giving us some shelter for the night. I told him he could sleep and that I would keep watch, and so I did. I didn’t sleep very much back then, either, now that I think about it. I guess not a lot has changed about me… But I digress. I stayed up the whole night, sitting outside our little fort, listening to him snore and talk in his sleep. I don’t think I could have left his side if I wanted to, considering how petrified I was. But I powered through the fear, for his sake. I was so young, but I cared about this boy so much that I felt I owed it to him to make sure he was safe.”

“You were quite the hero, even back then,” Astarion says gently. “Is this little story your way of telling me to be more selfless?”

“Not at all. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I sat there for hours as I waited for it to become day again. Eventually, I was able to focus on the more beautiful parts of the night: the moon, the stars, the lightning bugs, the sweet whisper of the wind through the leaves. The more I searched for the good in my situation, the less scared I became, until I was no longer scared at all. By the time dawn rolled around, I was at peace, actually. I was so proud of myself for making it through the night, I immediately woke the boy up to share the moment with him. Then, we sat together, kind of like this,” You gesture to your and Astarion’s seating position, “and just watched the sunrise in perfect silence. I had never watched the sunrise before. It was so nice, getting to quietly enjoy such a wonderful view with someone I loved.”

As you finish your story, you face Astarion once more. His gaze is soft as he listens to you speak, and the tender curl of his lips betrays a sincere gratitude for having shared this with him.

“Did anything ever happen between you and that boy?” He asks.

“Sadly, no. He eventually fell for some other girl in town. Last I heard, they had three kids together.”

“Hmm.” Astarion angles his chin away from you. “Well, that’s his loss.”

You look away, too, and smile to yourself.

Suddenly, the sky begins to transform before your eyes. The first gleams of sunlight begin to caress the horizon as the moon takes its final bow behind you. The forest, still coated with all the glimmering remnants of morning dew, stirs from its slumber under the streams of the emerging sun. As the sun slowly rises, its warm embrace spreads like honey between the trees, flooding the forest floor with rays of pink and amber. Shafts of light pierce through the lush foliage, creating scintillating patterns on the surface of the water that seem to dance at the promise of a new day. Finally, when the sun peers at you from above the treetops, it’s as if the sky erupts. A burst of brilliance envelopes the world below it in its welcoming embrace, casting everything in a blazing golden light.

You begin to say something to Astarion but stop when you see his face. He looks positively radiant. His face glows in the daylight, appearing even more magnificent than he did in the moon’s silver beams. His face and his hair are colored by the sun, making him look more alive than he ever has before. Every detail from the strands in his eyebrows to the smallest of moles is illuminated before you. You watch as his eyes glisten before softly fluttering closed. He breathes deeply, his chest slowly rising and falling, and he basks in the sunlight. He relaxes completely, letting the sun’s rays melt away any and all tension he may have been holding on to.

You want nothing more than to cup his face in your hands, then, and feel the newly imbued warmth of his skin as you press your lips to his. Instead, however, you carefully place your hand on top of his. His eyes blink open and he turns to look at you once more. You hesitate for a moment, ready to move away, but he doesn’t reject you. His eyes crinkle with appreciation and he laces your fingers together before gently stroking his thumb against the side of your hand. His skin is still a bit cold, but thanks to you, it quickly warms up.

The two of you sit there in tranquility, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and feelings of the early morning. Time seems to slow, then, as if the universe itself also wishes to savor this serene moment for just a little while longer.

Soon, you hear the distant sound of casual conversation as the others awaken for yet another day of arduous traveling. You sigh, knowing that the two of you will have to return to camp shortly and leave all of this behind. You don’t want to let go just yet.

“We should probably get back,” Astarion says first. “I wouldn’t want the others to think that I killed you and scurried off or something like that.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be very good for morale,” you joke. After a moment, you reluctantly untwine your fingers and push yourself up off the rocks. You extend a hand to Astarion to help him up, which he graciously accepts.

Neither of you moves at first until Astarion takes a step toward you. Standing so close to you, you wonder if he’s about to kiss you when he gingerly takes hold of your hands. He gives you that sincere smile again.

“Thank you again for this. It was… nice.” You almost can’t believe how vulnerable he seems right now, eyes staring into yours with no hint of false pretenses. “I’d like to do this again with you, if you’ll join me.”

“I would love to.”

“Wonderful,” he says. He lets go of you. “Shall we then?”

The two of you take your time walking back to the campsite, talking idly about what the next few days have in store. When you arrive, Karlach is the first to notice you.

“There you two are! We were beginning to worry.” She looks between you both and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “Anything we should know about your disappearance?”

You chuckle. “Nothing that would excite you, Karlach.”

You walk past her and approach your tent. The rest of your team is already getting to work cleaning their weapons, armor, and other equipment, preparing to hunt, or strategizing together. Before you duck inside to retrieve your clothes for washing, you turn back and lock eyes with Astarion. He’s entered a conversation between Shadowheart and Gale, but he isn’t all that engaged. He shoots you a knowing look and another small smile which you return in kind.

As you wash your clothes in the river just south of the camp, you think fondly of the promise you’ve now made with Astarion and the many sunrises to come. Suddenly, insomnia doesn’t seem so bad.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion baldur's gate #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #i want to give astarion so much love pls

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icycoldninja · 1 month

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Hey, love your DMC fanfics, can I request DMC5 Dante with sweet and kind s/o in her twenties, meeting fem reader parents who are really strict, conservative and lil abusive especially the reader's mother. They have weird ideas of purity for women and are very patriarchal.

Hello, hope you're well. Thank you very much, I am more than honored that you enjoy my writing. I am afraid to say that I have chosen to omit several aspects of your request as I wish for this blog and all material posted on it to remain free from political and social reform-related biases. In order to preserve the intended mood of the piece, I have replaced the aforementioned omitted material with synonymous themes, as needed. I understand that this may be disappointing to you, and for that, I apologize. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this fanfiction and that you have a fruitful and productive day. Thank you for your patience and leniency.

Terrible idea (DMC5! Dante x Fem!Abused!Reader)

TW: Controlling parents, violence, and implications of physical abuse incoming; if you are uncomfortable with these themes, DNI.

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You sighed, resting your cheek on your palm as you stared out the car window, absently watching the blurred scenery rush by. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands felt clammy; you couldn't believe this was actually happening.

For context, today was the day Dante had agreed to meet your your parents. Normally, this would be a joyous occasion, but in this case, it was terrifying because your parents were less than pleasant, to say the least. They hated the idea of you leaving their (abusive) household so much, they did everything they could to make your relationships--be they friendships or otherwise--crumble. At first, they'd attempted to keep you isolated, but now you had a job, and therefore, your own house, which was conveniently far, far away from theirs, so there was nothing they could do. Their only remaining tactic was to embarrass you and insult anyone you brought to see them until your guest left, either in disgust or awkwardness. The only reason Dante lasted as long as he did was because he'd never met them--you'd kept their existence a secret from him and his existence from them up until this point.

You hadn't wanted to bring Dante to meet them, but he'd insisted. Because his parents weren't alive anymore, he was unable to introduce you to them; to make up for it, he'd meet your parents instead. You never told him how horrible your folks were, however, and were seriously regretting it now, but he was so excited--you just couldn't burst his bubble like that. Maybe, hopefully, things would go well today.

"Hey, babe, you OK?" Dante asked, briefly glancing in your direction.

"Yeah," You sighed, turning and smiling at him.

"You sure? You don't sound ok."

"I...I'm fine, don't worry."

"Ok...well...we're almost there, according to the GPS."

You nodded, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, not really sure what to say. You honestly didnt want to be going to your parents' house; Dante didn't need to get involved in your family issues any more than he needed to.

"Come on, I see that frown. You can tell me if something's wrong, y'know," Dante encouraged, patting your shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong," You responded, forcing another smile. "I'm fine." Dante would have pursued the conversation, but there was a sharp turn coming up that he needed to focus on. Once he rounded the curve, you spotted the a building in the distance; a familiar building that you recognized as your parents house; the building that had never been your home.

"This your folks' place?" Dante asked, and when you nodded, a big grin broke out on his face. It was clear he was excited to meet those who had "raised" you. It was a shame he had no idea how awful they truly were. "Alright," He exclaimed, grinning, "Let's go meet the people that raised my angel!" He flung the car door open and bounded out out it, with you slowly following suit. Poor Dante. He had no idea what waited for him there, and it was all because of your weakness. Now that you were literally on the threshold of hell itself, you felt so upset with yourself for not warning him earlier; for being so selfish and keeping the truth a secret from him. You were sure that after today, he wouldn't want to be with you anymore, and so, you decided to simply accept your fate and get on with it; maybe the day would pass by quicker if you pretended to enjoy it.

Your anxiety and fear reaching its peak, you rung the doorbell and waited for the door to swing open; waited to be greeted with the frowning faces of those horrible monsters you couldn't believe you called your parents.

Sure enough, the door creaked open, and you were met with your mother, a scowl plastered across her wrinkling face.

"Y/N," She greeted, stiffly, prompting you to force a smile.

"Good afternoon, mother." Your mother then turned her attention to Dante and narrowed her eyes at him.

"And who's this?"

"My...umm....my..." You words died in your throat; your mother's scrutinizing gaze silencing you. You sighed, folding your arms and averting your gaze. Thinking you were just too excited to function properly, Dante eagerly piped up and finished your sentence.

"I'm her man, name's Dante, nice to meet ya!" He stuck his hand out, expecting your mother to shake it, but she did no such thing.

"What? A boyfriend? Are you crazy? We told you never to get a boyfriend--you don't deserve one! " She yelled, her piercing, fiery gaze directed on you. "Answer me, girl, what were you thinking?!" You couldn't. You felt like there was a burning lump in your throat, preventing you from speaking. If you did, you were sure you would cry. You knew this was a bad idea. What were you thinking indeed, coming here and bringing Dante with you? Clearly angry at your lack of a response, your mother crossed over to you and slapped you across the face. "What has gotten into you, child? How dare you disobey us and bring this filthy troll to our doorstep?! How dare you?!" Suddenly, your mother seized you by the arm and began beating you with her bony, yet painful fists; his vise-like grip keeping you in place even though you screamed in pain and tried to get away.

"Stop it, let go of her!" Shouted Dante, forcing your mother away and standing between the two of you. You sobbed, clinging onto his arm as you desperately tried to wipe away your tears.

"Get out of my way, you have no right to stand between me and my daughter!"

"She ain't your daughter if you hit her like that--the hell you thinking?! What was that even for?!"

"Shut the fuck up, you worthless loser," Retorted your mother, spitefully. "You have no right telling me how to parent my child.

"She's not your child if you treat her like this," Dante said, coldly. "Come on, babe, let's get outta here." He wrapped his arm around you and tried to guide you away, but you remained still.

"I'm sorry, Dante," You said, still crying. "I shouldn't have dragged you into this. I'm so, so sorry--I should have told you about them sooner."

"And what's that supposed to mean, young lady?!" Demanded your father, striding into view in his usual stained shirt. "And who the fuck is this?"

"Her boyfriend," Growled your mother, turning her nose up in disgust. "A bad influence, too." Your father grunted, roughly grabbing your wrist and jerking you towards the house.

"That's easily taken care of. Get outta here, loser, you'll never see my daughter again." You turned and looked at the angry expression on Dante's face, wishing you had the strength to stand up for yourself and break free. Unfortunately, you didn't; you were too afraid to do anything. You could only watch as your horrible parents dragged you inside their house of horrors and slammed the doors in your boyfriend's face.

Once again, you found yourself questioning your thought processes that led you to set foot within a 40 mile radius of your parents' lair.

You knew it; you felt it in your bones and your gut, but you did it anyway.

You were such an idiot.

This really was a terrible idea.

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year

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Without You: Vergil x G/N Reader

Summary: You have been missing for some time now and Vergil is slowly losing it. The blue devil's constant fear and worry about you being dead has turned him into a shadow of hi former self; someone that is even capable of grinding on Dante's gears.

Another pretty story-heavy oneshot; six dividers (double equal signs) down for important parts if you want to skip the pre-text. ⏳⏳⏳ Once again, I reference the “Revenant Shotgun” as being your gun; I really think the gun is pretty lmao. You also use Beowulf. Minor blood/gut talk, nothing too serious though (figured I should mention it just in case). This is the first time I have tried to write combat since I was like 13, so forgive the (probably) less-than-adequate scene writing--I tried lol. ⏳⏳⏳ Pre-established relationship with Vergil. G/N reader. ⏳⏳⏳ Semi-angst followed by fluff (I don't know why I keep writing sad Vergil things; I swear I'll stop after this lmfao)

The air was stagnated and stale as Nero slowly sat up, groaning in pain. His head was pounding as he looked around, confused and disorientated. He slowly blinked as he got a grasp on his surroundings. With a huff, Nero mindlessly groped around his lower back for Blue Rose and found it missing. This snapped him to attention as he began to sporadically eye over the area around him.

His brow furrowed as he focused on Red Queen which was thrust into the ground nearly twenty feet away. Slowly standing up with a wince, he went over to the sword. As he yanked the stubbornly stuck blade from the ground, a glint of light caught his attention. Blue Rose was laying on the ground nearby.

Placing Red Queen on his back, he clicked his tongue and went to retrieve his sidearm. “What in the fuck happened?” Nero’s thoughts were a blur as he scrunched his face struggling to put together the broken pieces of his recent memories.

“Move it, asshole!” Nero insincerely barked as he held a growl from deep within his throat.

You ducked down into a roll, knowing that Nero was going to lose control soon and it was best not to argue with his demonic side. Using Beowulf to quickly spin upward and to your feet, you managed to make quick work of a Choas demon's spines. Seizing the opportunity, you aimed Revenant dead-center of the creature’s eyes and pulled the trigger. Smoothly holstering your shotgun, you continued fighting the onslaught of demons alongside the now devil-triggered Nero.

It was like a beautiful deadly dance when the two of you got into your well-practiced tango of destruction. Nero would typically take a more topside approach, using his wings to pull things to him and then dropping them to you. His over-the-top chaotic slashing and slicing would then be cleaned up by you underneath him. You, who had the completely opposite style, opted for a calm and collected approach, especially if you were using Vergil’s gear. Times like these are something you cherish dearly and never want to end--even if you are being coated by blood and demonic entrails.

A sudden out-of-place movement caught the corner of your eye as you tried to move out of its path; however, you weren’t quite fast enough and got thrown across the room.

Nero’s attention was drawn to your flying body, “What the--!” before he could think he was hammer fisted directly into the ground below him. With a bright-blue flash, his devil trigger ended, leaving a confused and human Nero looking up at a strange figure above him.

The demon was not one Nero had seen before--it reminded him of the descriptions of the “Third Beast of Revelations”. However, its appearance wasn’t quite as he remembered being told--only having four of the seven heads that it is supposed to have.

The young man stood up, “What the hell are you supposed to be, huh?” he smirked. The creature lunged at him, which Nero avoided. He laughed a bit holding the Blue Rose aimed at the back of the beast, “Too slow. Wanna try again?”

Nero sidestepped the demon again but was hit by an unexpected swing of its tail. He dropped his revolver as he was tossed across the room. Nero went to get up again. Before he moved back in, however, his ears twitched at a strange sound. The hunter turned to his side and realized that the noise was your breathing. Gently grabbing your shoulder, Nero tried to shake you awake. Revenant and Beowulf had been tossed far from your body and you were out cold. Seeing as there was a large amount of blood dripping from your forehead, that wouldn’t be changing any time soon.

“Shit,” Nero mumbled under his breath as he pulled Red Queen from the resting place on his back, “You’re gonna owe me big time.”

With an impossibly blinding speed, the young hunter took off toward the large demon. Nero’s face was in a grimace as he focused the best he could without his trigger. In hindsight, he was regretting using his demonic energy on such a simple fight before.

His attempt at defeating this beast alone was futile; it was much too strong for him in this state. Another large hit from the beast sent him flying in the opposite direction as before; leaving your unconscious body as far from him as possible. The demon also noticed this as it turned its sights to your limp form.

“Tch, shit-” Nero hastily got up on his feet and ran to your aid; however, it was too late. The beast had your body in its grasp as it curiously looked you over. “Put them down you fuck!” his mind was racing; if something happens to you, Vergil will kill him.

With a grunt, Nero sprung up at the demon. Who only batted him away again. He used Red Queen to stop himself from flying so far off. Knowing there wasn’t time, he left the sword and was going to fight using just his hands. Was it stupid? Yes. Did he care? No, not if it meant trying everything he could to protect you--someone who had become essentially his step-parent.

However, the demon had no intent on letting you leave this place with the youngest Sparda descendant. It opened a fissure through the floor, but before leaving, attacked Nero one last time. It sent him flying in an almost straight line across the room and into a wall, knocking the hunter out cold.

Nero stood in front of where he had last seen you lay, your weapons were still strewn about and your coat had fallen from your shoulders as you were snatched upward. A cold heavy feeling sunk in as he just stood there staring.

Slowly he gathered your gear, he didn't know how he was going to tell the others what happened. Nero didn’t know whose response would be worse; Dante mocking him for his lack of skill or Vergil who would undoubtedly lose it over this.

He just wanted to go back to the DMC and get this over with. Nero left the demon nest, not caring that he hadn’t finished the job. Outside, Nico was in her van waiting for the pair’s return.

Seeing Nero, she opened the door of the van, “Took y’all long--” she paused, seeing the gear in Nero’s arms, “Whoa, wait… Where’s--”

“I don’t know,” Nero mumbled, refusing to look Nico in the eye as he got into the vehicle.

“Whatdya’ mean ‘you don’t know’?” her voice was playful, thinking that Nero was just fucking with her as he placed the items on the table.

He leaned a bit onto the table with his palms flatly pressed against it, “I don’t know where they are..!” he grimaced as he stood back up with clenched fists, “Some fucking big asshole took ‘em”

Nico’s expression and pose changed from casual to a more serious one, “Wait-- they’re really missin’?” Nero’s frustrated stare said it all, “Holy crap-- Should we call your folks, I’m sure--”

“It wouldn’t help,” Nero relaxed his fists and took a deep breath trying to calm down, “They’ve been gone for a while, their scent’s gone.”

“Shit,” Nico pursed her lips as she paused for a moment, “Well, whaddya’ wanna do?”

Nero looked over to her, “I want to go to the shop. This is more important than the job.”

“Gotcha,” Nico wanted to poke at him but found herself unable to. Nero looked beyond exhausted and she knew that the brother’s responses will be more than punishing enough.

Neither of them spoke the whole way back.

Not wanting to be there when the three devils rip each other apart, Nico just dropped Nero in the garage and left.

Deciding to wait a moment before going in, Nero focused his hearing. He only heard one heartbeat meaning there was only one person at the shop when he returned. Thankfully, upon opening the door, it was Dante.

The red devil sat at his desk with his back to the garage, “Hey, you two are back early,” his gaze didn’t leave whatever he was doing on his desk, “Was thinking about ordering a pizza. You guys want anything?”

Nero’s face was pale and gave no response. He just simply walked over to the coffee table and plopped down your coat and weapons.

Dante pouted slightly with confusion, “If you don’t want--” his brow twitched as he noticed that there was only one person that had come in, “Hey where’s--” his happy expression dropped quickly. He moved around to the side of his desk to see what Nero had just set down.

“Dante-” Nero bit his tongue in thought, “Before you go off; hear me out?”

He scratched the stubble on his face, “Sure, go ahead kid.” he leaned back onto his desk.

Nero explained what happened and what attacked them. Surprisingly, Dante wasn’t mad or made any rude jabs about things. He just simply nodded along and paid close attention.

“Well Nero,” Dante shook his head and sighed, “As much as I want to give you shit-- You’re lucky to be alive. That bastard ain’t an easy thing to fight, ‘specially without a trigger handy…”

Nero’s gaze found its way back down to your gear, “You think they’re still alive, Dante?”

He sighed and stood back up, “If they weren’t, Vergil would know by now,” he bit his lip, “Question is: why did the demon want them alive?”

“Think Vergil would know?”

“Doubt it, he knows just as little as I do about those beasts…" he paused briefly before continuing, "Look, Nero,” Dante set a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “go home. I will tell Vergil about this whole thing. He’s already ripped off your arm, I really don’t want him to try ‘n gut you too. Okay?”

Nero was taken aback by what he said and nodded, “Thanks, Dante.”

“Any time kid,” Dante removed his hand, “Just don’t come back till I let you know it’s safe. Might take your old man a few days to calm down.”

“Sure thing,” Nero moved to the garage door, “Keep me posted, yeah?”

Dante gave a stiff nod to Nero as he watched him shut the door.

“Vergil’s just going to gut us instead… You’re a fuckin’ genius, Dante.” he sighed at his thoughts. What the hell was he going to do?

A few hours passed before the door finally swung open. Vergil stepped into the shop raising a brow at his brother who was at the desk asleep. With a sly smile and shake of his head, Vergil walked further into the room.

However, that smile quickly faded upon seeing Revenant, Beowulf, and your folded jacket sitting on the coffee table, “Dante.”

The younger twin slowly blinked as he opened his eyes and sat upwards, “Hm?”

“What is--” Vergil’s brow slowly furrowed further and further, “Why is their gear here?”

“Well..” Dante stood up and took a deep breath, “Look I ain’t gonna sugar coat it: They are missing.”

“ What? ” Vergil’s voice was sharp as he glared at Dante.

“Look, before you go and try to kill Nero--It wasn’t his fault,” Dante shrugged, “We would’ve had a tough time with what happened.”

Vergil made sure to enunciate each word clearly, “Dante, what happened.”

“They were attacked by one of those Revelation beasts. Your kid barely made it out. Nero said that they took your partner with them, so the demon wanted them alive for some reason.”

Vergil’s face went pale as his blood ran cold, “Where were they, I want to have a look at things.”

“Sure thing… I’m coming with though--you might need me,” Dante winked then stretched with a groan.

“Whatever.”

They did go look. Vergil found nothing. It was a dead end.

Several months had gone by and the usual bustling and jovial atmosphere of the Devil May Cry had faded. Now all that remained was a quiet angst and depressed mood that was brought on by one individual alone.

The silence was broken by the sound of the garage door opening. Standing in the doorway were the two twin sons of Sparda; Vergil stood in front of Dante. The eldest headed up to his room, not saying a word. His silent steps were filled with anger; an emotion that has become a common theme in recent times. Dante just stood, watching his brother go up the winding stairs.

Across the room, Nero sat on the couch. His gaze moved off of his phone and onto the remaining brother--who was already raiding the fridge, “Any luck, Dante?”

“No! There was absolutely fucking nothing.” Dante was seething as he looked over at Nero, “Your old man is just so… infuriating; I am this close to shoving the Yamato so far up his ass--.” with a pinch of the bridge of his nose, the youngest twin huffed out a heavy sigh.

Nero shook his head with a small laugh; knowing exactly how Dante felt. Vergil would barely talk to Nero without getting an irritated tone and becoming condescending, “Don’t worry, it’s only gonna keep getting worse; how long’s it been anyways--four months?”

Dante let out a nod of affirmation walking over to his desk. He kicked up his feet and cracked open the bottle drinking the majority of the bottle in one go, “You know, at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Vergil’s going to storm his way down into Hell just to make sure he’s looked everywhere.”

“He’s that desperate, huh?” Nero sat forward more on the couch, paying more attention to what was being said.

“That doesn’t even come close to describing how Verge’s being. I mean,” Another wave of building frustration was slowing creeping onto Dante’s face signified by his furrowed brow, “I don’t blame him for being worried--I would be if it were my lover--but still…” he exasperatedly removed his boots from the desk, making a slight thud as they hit the floor, “-he doesn’t have to be such a dick about things. I’m trying to help.” Dante was attempting to find his happy place--lest he wants to have another hole in the drywall.

“Vergil being a dick is nothing new--you’d know that better than me--he’s just not used to needing help,” Nero stood up from the couch revealing a manila envelope in his hand, “On a better note: Morrison dropped this off while you were out, said it’s for your eyes only.”

“Really?” Dante reached forward and snatched the envelope, “I wonder what that means, Morrison doesn’t often--” his voice slowly drifted as something inside the folder caught his attention. He continued to flip through the documents faster and faster with a wide-eyed stare.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Nero leaned over trying to take a peek at the papers, “What’s so interesting, huh?”

Without answering, Dante jumped up from his seat. The youngest son of Sparda ran up the stairs and began to bang rapidly on a certain blue demon’s door, “Vergil! Vergil, open up! Come on! Verge--”

A door pushed hard into Dante’s shoulder as a set of mildly bloodshot iced-over eyes met his, “What is it?” Dante stood frozen for a moment, not expecting Vergil to have answered the door so quickly; let alone seeing him after he had been (what appeared to be) crying, “What do you want, Dante.” Vergil’s sharp tone cut Dante from his thoughts.

“Shit, sorry. Just--here,” he shoved the folder at Vergil, “have a look at this.”

Vergil lifted a brow in curiosity as he let go of the doorknob and stopped shoving the door into his little brother. Sighing quietly, Vergil began to sift through the documents and pictures; the further he read, the further his brow creased. Vergil’s voice was rough and cracked as he looked at Dante, “Where--”

“Morrison dropped it off while we were out. Gave it to Nero… Is it that what I think it is?”

Vergil cleared his throat and took a short pause, “It could be--I would have to see it to be sure.”

“Alright, then saddle up princess, we got a job to do,” and with that, Dante left before Vergil chastised him for the jab.

A few moments later, Vergil came downstairs with his demon hunting gear re-equipped. Dante stretched his arms upward cracking his back quite loudly, “Ready, Verge?” Vergil gave Dante a curt nod and began to walk toward the garage door. Before leaving, Dante humorously cooed at Nero, “Make sure to finish your homework and be in bed by 7. We will be back in the morning--so behave till then. Love youuu~” flashing a wide sharp-toothed grin, he waved and headed for the door--ignoring the fact that Nero just whipped him off.

“Where is the location?” Vergil’s voice was deadpan as he unsheathed the Yamato.

“Here-” Dante handed Vergil the paper with the address, “So, what are we gonna do if it really is--”

“Silence." Vergil’s voice was sharp as his eyes turned to a harsh squint in irritation; tossing the folder off to the side.

Dante pursed his lips, pouting slightly at his brother’s attitude; but, didn’t feel like bantering so he remained silent.

Upon exiting the portal, the twins looked in front of them. The object of the job was before them, a large nest that was crawling with demons. Not wanting to waste time, they both ventured forward.

A few hours passed as the brothers slashed their way through the mound’s inhabitants. Dante and Vergil stopped for a moment to catch their breath.

Dante adjusted his coat, “So, how far down do you think it’ll be? We gonna have to go all the way?”

“Most likely,” Vergil slicked his hair back, “Is that a problem?”

“ ‘Course not, just was wonderin’,”

Vergil didn’t respond and just continued forward, Dante following in toe.

Dante cracked his knuckles, “So if it is-- then what?”

“I do not know--nor will I know until I see it.”

“Really hope that this lead is real and not another stupid hoax,” Dante frowned.

“If it is not worth our time,” Vergil’s voice was filled with more hostility with every word, “I will make sure to give the client a visit .”

“No-- Vergil you can’t kill our clients; we are demon hunters, not people hunters. Plus, this nest needed to be taken care of anyway.”

The eldest twin only scoffed in response.

It had been nearly eight hours since entering the nest and they still had no signs of what they were looking for. Both of them were getting crabby at this point; Vergil about the lack of evidence and Dante because of Vergil’s attitude.

“I swear--” Dante growled in frustration, “I am going to just fucking dig my way to the bottom of this fucking bastard.”

“That is impossible,” Vergil’s voice held no emotion.

“I know, I am just getting sick of this shit,” he groaned, “Just feels like we are getting nowhere--that’s all.”

Vergil stopped and tilted his head up slightly. Upon seeing this, Dante stopped as well.

“Verge, I didn’t-”

Vergil turned his head to the left and began to walk.

Dante rolled his eyes and pivoted in a grandiose manner, “Okay-ay, I guess we are goin’ this way now.”

They walked in silence for a few more minutes before coming to a dead end. Vergil began to scowl and stare at the wall.

“That’s a mighty fine wall there Verge, but what-”

“Break it.”

“... What?” Dante double-took at his brother’s words.

“I want you to break down this wall,” Vergil’s eyes moved sharply off the wall and to Dante.

“Look, Vergil, I made a joke about breaking shit down--wasn’t actually going to start--”

“Do as I say, Dante,” Vergil snarled, “Break. It. Down.”

Dante sighed, driving his sword into the ground, and responded by using a mocking baby voice, “Fine, mister grumpy pants.”

Using his Sin Trigger, Dante made quick work of the wall. The pair quickly stepped through as the hole repaired itself behind them. He shifted back into his human form and jogged after Vergil, who was already going forward. Another half hour passed of Vergil's speed walking forward intensely focused on something.

“Soooo… Plan on telling me what exactly you’re doing or are you gonna make me guess?”

Vergil hit Dante flat across the chest with a sheathed Yamato; before Dante could protest, he saw what his brother was staring at.

In front of them stood a fairly huge demon--the same one from the job's folder. The creature was similar to a centaur; however, a lizard (or demon) had been thrown into the mix as well.

A large spear was held by one of its three-fingered hands. On the body, there were three sets of violet claws; the legs of which were covered in a thick dark midnight blue fur with bits of sky blue streaks scattered throughout. Three maroon-scaled tails protruded from the back of the creature, a thin cerulean membrane trailing up the middle of each topside and trailing up the base of the creature’s skull.

Layered scales, colored the same as the tail’s, ran up the underbelly, body, and torso of the demon. Pale teal-green scaled skin was exposed through the frontline of the torso, showing off a muscular structure similar to that of a human.

Continuing up those scales led you to the head of the beast. It was similar in shape to a human’s but had seven eyes of pure milky white which filled the entire front due to the lack of a mouth. Extending from the sides of the face, there were clay-grey semi-transparent frills--appearing very much like a frilled lizard’s--that ran from the underside of the jaw up to a set of horns that the frills connected to.

Dante nudged Vergil, “Man, I thought Lady’s demon form was ugly--theirs takes the cake. Good job using that nose of yours and finding your mate, good thing you--” he stopped noticing his brother’s glazed-over stare.

Vergil was paying no mind to Dante or anything around him. His eyes were focused on the trinket that was embedded right in between the creature’s collar bones, nestled deep in the suprasternal notch. His blood ran cold as he would know that jewelry anywhere; it was his amulet half--the one he had gifted you on your anniversary nearly a year ago. He stood, unmoving--not even taking deep enough breaths to move his chest. Everything in him told him to fight the capsule of a demon in front of him; yet, he couldn’t bring himself to.

Dante, however, was paralyzed by neither fear, grief, nor anger; he was actually glad they finally found you. Giving one last glance at his, still very frozen, brother Dante moved into the large space--drawing the demon’s attention.

“So,” he started, “this is where you’ve been hanging out, huh? ‘Place is kind of a drag if you ask me,” Curiously, the demon slowly approached Dante, staring at him, “You ain’t gotta make this hard--just lay that big stick down and let us-” he looked back at Vergil, who still hadn’t moved, “or well let me get you outta there. Whaddya say?”

It stood in front of the younger brother for a moment then turned its head to look at Vergil. Without even returning their attention back to Dante, they punted the younger brother across the room with one swing of its paw. A loud crack emanated from the force of him hitting--and going through--the wall.

“Son of a Bitch…” With a groan, Dante slowly stood back up, “And I’m supposed to believe you’re the same person that gives me shit for my hugs.”

Digging his heels into the ground, Dante took off running. He raised his Devil Sword as he got within striking distance; however, the demon only backhanded him, sending him flying once more. The creature still hadn’t torn its gaze from Vergil; it almost seemed as if it was trying to place the eldest son. Dante attempted to strike again, only to be hit away for a third time.

The eldest son’s mind was racing; between infinite anger that spiraled to the deepest darkest depths of his demon and immense guilt for not protecting you eating at his human consciousness--Vergil, for the first time in a long time, was completely frozen. He was your boyfriend, your lover, your mate; he should’ve been there to protect you: instead, you ended up suffering something that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

“Okay, you bastard,” Dante sniffled as blood began to drip from his nose, pulling out Ivory & Ebony, “Let’s try this, shall we?”

Upon feeling the bullets hit the side of their legs, the demon turned to Dante--finally breaking their piercing staredown. It trotted towards Dante and swung its spear, only missing Dante by mere inches. He jumped onto the spear and ran up it, still firing the twin pistols. The creature used its free hand to grab Dante; moving much faster than the devil hunter had expected, and began to constrict him.

“Heh, you got quite the--,” he let out a strained groan, “quite the grip.”

Dante struggled a bit trying to loosen the demon’s grip. He couldn’t focus like this and, if he couldn’t focus, triggering (in any capacity) was off the table. So, Dante did what any younger sibling would do; he started to yell for his big brother.

“Vergil-- I could use a hand here!” Dante’s body started to ache from the pressure, “God damn it! VERGIL!”

The loud shouting from his baby brother pulled Vergil from his thoughts. He looked up at Dante and started moving. The demon’s attention was now drawn to the sudden movement of the oldest brother and ever-so-slightly loosened its grip. Not wanting to waste the chance, Dante quickly triggered; making the demon drop the lava-hot Dante.

“He-hey! Nice to see you finally helping out,” Dante rolled avoiding the large spear.

Glaring over at Dante, Vergil teleported near the creature’s ankle and sliced it with Mirage Edge; coating him with the creature’s blood.

Vergil moved to Dante’s side taking advantage of the few moments of reprieve the attack gave them.

“So, got any ideas?” Dante tried to wipe some of the blood off of Vergil’s face using his coat; however, Vergil harshly swatted away his hand.

Vergil’s brow furrowed, “Its front and neck would be the best places to try and cut it open; given its scales might be much thicker than I think…”

Dante twitched his head to the side in a nod, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “Better than nothing. Shall we?”

The twins decided to split, each going opposite ways. Confused about what to do, it followed Dante with its body while attempting to use its tails and back paws to hit Vergil.

Dante took another large hit and created another crater in the wall. He fell to the ground catching himself at the last moment, coming to rest in a kneel. He took a moment to wipe some blood that had begun to drip from his mouth.

A large heavy object slammed into Dante, it was Vergil. The two of them hit the wall together, Vergil’s weight only shoving Dante further into the already-created crater: they both were going to be sore after this.

They both removed themselves from the wall and stood side by side, both slouching slightly.

With a growl-covered groan, Vergil’s eyes sharpened their gaze upon the demon, “You still have a trigger left in you, brother?” his breath had become slightly ragged.

Despite his exhaustion, Dante clapped back with his typical sarcastic tone, “Always--you sure you wanna use yours?” Dante straightened his posture.

Vergil flicked out his arm on the side opposite Dante, summoning his doppelgänger, “For this, yes.”

There was a flash of light and the two were both in their Sin Triggers. It was quite the sight, one that only would occur when the brothers were fighting themselves. Neither of them had to tell the other what the plan was; perks of being twins as Dante would say.

Taking the same approach as before, they spilt ways--Doppel following beside Vergil.

The demon was confused and turning itself around in circles over how many fast-moving targets it was now presented with. Vergil and Doppel managed to keep the creature’s attention long enough that Dante was able to get behind the creature’s head. With great strength, Dante grabbed the creature’s horns and pulled its head back. He did his best to keep it steady; however, it thrashed like a bull and unexpectedly was able to shake Dante around. Seeing his brother struggling, Vergil sent Doppel to assist him. With the two both pulling on the creature in opposite directions, the thrashing slowed.

Seizing the opportunity, Vergil shot up the midline of the torso cutting along it with the Yamato. Once he reached the bottom of the amulet, he stopped and fell back to the ground calling back Doppel; Dante followed suit.

They both stood as humans, having exhausted their demonic energy, staring with bated breath. The demon’s midline showed the cut; however, nothing was happening.

“Verge ain’t--” Dante’s face went pale after turning towards his older brother.

Vergil looked pissed, no, he looked beyond pissed. His grip had tightened on the Yamato so hard his knuckles were turning colors. Without warning, Vergil triggered himself once more and took off toward the demon; this time, however, the creature wasn’t being held back by others.

He jumped off of the spear that had been swung and avoided the other hand’s attempt at grabbing the blue devil. His speed was unimaginable as he was instantaneously on top of the demon’s head. With great effort, he plunged Mirage Edge deep into the scaly skin and tissues of the creature. Swiftly, he yanked the blade down the middle of the face, down the throat, and stopped above the necklace. With one of his forearm blades, Vergil gouged out the amulet and tore it from its resting place.

A large amount of blood began to spew from the new incision. Vergil was thrown violently from the beast as it began to flail about. A plume of blue energy emitted from the man as he hit the floor--hard. Dante ran over to the hole containing the other twin with slight concern. The once again human, Vergil lay unmoving in the newly-formed crater as Dante slid down to his brother’s side.

“Hey, you’re not dead--right?” the red demon poked Vergil slightly.

Vergil slowly opened his eyes and glared up at Dante, “It will take much more to kill me,” he sat up and groaned quietly in pain, “I assure you, little brother.”

Dante laughed and offered a hand to help Vergil up; which, normally he wouldn’t accept but today Vergil was too exhausted to fuss over such things.

Upon exiting the crater they found the demon laying on its belly like a resting horse, slowly bleeding out from Vergil’s second attack.

Vergil moved to finish it off but was stopped by Dante’s forearm, “Allow me.”

Dante carefully used his Devil Sword and re-cut over the Yamato’s shallow slice. Although the demon was dying, it did put up somewhat of a fight by swinging its hands and claws at Dante; all the while, its gaze found Vergil’s again--who was slowly approaching the suffering creature.

“Just die already, you son-of-a-bitch,” Dante growled through his teeth as he dug his sword further into the demon’s stomach, making it shout an ear-piercing sad cry; which sounded almost human-- Vergil did his best to ignore that part.

The demonic corpse dissolved slowly. Vergil had made it to his brother’s side as he watched the disintegration before them. He bent over and picked up the amulet that he had dropped while being thrown around. With a gentle sigh, Vergil placed it into his pocket and stood back up.

The pair's attention was now drawn to where the head of the beast once lay. In its place, you were laying there; naked and dead to the world. At first, the brothers thought you were actually dead but then they heard your faint heartbeat and took a sigh of relief.

Vergil’s expression was a strange mixture of joy, anger, and sadness. He walked over to you, his steps were cautious and silent. Once by your side, Vergil removed his coat, gently wrapped you in it, and picked you up. His brief moment of solace was interrupted by a large tremor.

“Hey, uh, Verge--” Dante quickly moved to his brother’s side, “You gonna be able to get us outta here?”

Vergil paused for a moment giving thought to whether he could or not, “Yes,” he pursed his lips.

Dante noticed his hesitation and was going to question him; however, the younger brother quickly put together why. “Vergil, hand them to me--you can’t use Yamato like that.”

“No, I--” another tremor broke off a part of the ceiling nearby, “Fine.”

Vergil handed you over to Dante and pulled out the Yamato. With a deep breath, he sliced open a portal and traversed through with Dante right behind him.

Once out of the other side, Vergil didn’t even give Dante a chance to think before ripping you from him. Vergil knows that Dante wouldn’t dare hurt you, however, he had an overwhelming urge to keep you far from anyone besides himself.

Dante looked around and scratched the stubble on his jaw, “Uh, Vergil… This ain’t the shop,” the pair was standing where they had entered nearly twelve hours prior.

With a low mumble, Vergil avoided looking at Dante, “I don’t have the energy for that…”

Dante bit his tongue hard--all he wanted to do was poke fun at Vergil and would have if Vergil was in a better headspace. Instead, he just simply nodded at Vergil, “Well… I can call a ride if you want..? I’m sure Nico wouldn’t mind picking us up--given she’ll want a cut of the pay.”

“She can have my half; I got what I came for,” money was the furthest thing from the blue devil's mind, all he could think about was that he finally had you back.

“Alright--you sure you’re okay with--”

“Yes.”

Dante let out a small ‘heh’ and pulled out his very well-protected phone.

Nico showed up around an hour later. Once stopped, the door swung open, and out strode Nero.

He looked over at his father and uncle, who were sitting on a ledge and the floor respectively.

“Holy shit, you actually found them? Nico said that Dante-- I didn’t believe her…” Nero extended a hand to help the very sore Dante off the ground. Without so much as a nod to his son, Vergil got into the van.

Dante groaned and cracked his back, “Don’t take it personally, kid. Vergil’s in a weird mood.”

“What happened? I saw the folder that was thrown on the floor of the garage, but--” the pair began to walk to the van side-by-side, “I don’t get how you knew.”

“When we get back… or after I take a hot shower and nap… I’ll fill you in on the details at some point,” Dante slumped down on the couch in the van that was opposite Vergil.

Before Nero could protest at Dante’s wait time, the younger twin was sound asleep--even snoring a little.

With everyone in the van, Nico began to drive; despite Nero still standing. Before the youngest Sparda descendant went up to his seat, he turned to Vergil, “You uh… gonna be okay?” Nero felt awkward asking the typically stoic man such an out-of-character question.

Vergil looked up at Nero with a confused tilt to his brow then back down to you, “In time, yes.”

Nero nodded--shocked that he got anything other than ‘yes’ or the silent treatment--and went up to the passenger seat for the rest of the quiet ride back to the shop.

The moment the van stopped; even before Nico had turned off the ignition, Vergil got up and was out the van door. He thinks he heard someone say something as he left, but he didn’t care. All he wanted right now was to be in his room with you in his arms. Quickly and quietly he headed up the stairs and into his room.

The eldest son prides himself on being the cleanest member of the Sparda line; however with you being gone, he had stopped caring about such trivial things. The room had quite a few sets of worn and unworn outfits strewn about. Several cups of half-drank liquids sat on various tabletops. The room wasn't messy by normal standards but Vergil was far from "normal".

He walked over to his bed. Vergil moved you so he could support your body with one arm and fixed the disheveled mess that was his bed. Once satisfied, he set you down on the bedding; he noticed that you were filthy --which wasn’t surprising due to what had occurred.

Vergil hesitantly left his room to get some warm water, rags, and some medical supplies. It took him a moment to figure out what to grab--he wasn’t the best at treating wounds, he hasn’t ever needed to know such things; so he was as methodical as possible. Seeing how Vergil was struggling to find what he needed, Nero silently helped his father gather what was needed. Vergil gave Nero a solid nod in acknowledgment of his help.

Upon returning to his room, Vergil began to gently wash your dirt and blood-ridden skin. While doing so, he noticed his hands had begun to shake. Furrowing his brow and pursing his lips in confusion, he stopped momentarily. Vergil never shakes, so what was going on?

Using exhaustion as an explanation, he dismissed it with a shake of his head. Vergil continued to clean your body. You had visibly become slimmer from the several months of entrapment. His eyes moved up to your face, you were still sound asleep but he noticed that you looked deathly sick.

He took the rag and rung it out. Your body was cleaned; however, you were still covered in wounds. Vergil knew that he couldn’t do anything for the copious amounts of bruises you had, so he moved to take care of several burn marks you had obtained; most of which were around your neck from Dante pulling on your demonic prison. Vergil put some burn cream onto his fingers and softly rubbed it on the marks. Letting out a shaky sigh, he moved on to the last thing he had to tend to before dressing you.

The Yamato might not have mortality wounded your capsule, but it seemed to have nicked your midline all the way up--the cut was too thin and clean to have been from Dante’s Devil Sword. After wiping his hands off, he applied an antibiotic gel along the cut. If you had been awake, you would have cussed him out, no doubt. The thought brought a small smirk to Vergil’s face.

He grabbed the gauze and began to dress the wound; however, Vergil stopped. His vision had become blurry and his mind went blank. During these past four months, he had cried a few times, but it was always controlled and well-restrained.

Right now, though? He felt like screaming. He felt like weeping until he became ill. All he wanted to hear was your voice, to feel your lips on his face, to be held as he sobbed uncontrollably. Vergil felt like a little kid again; alone and afraid of losing those he loves. A whimpering hiccup brought him out of his thoughts as he looked up at you. Confusion sunk in as he saw you were still fast asleep.

He froze. The noise had come from him. Vergil tried to suppress his tears; he hard-shut his eyes, tried angrily furrowing his brow, and even tried looking upwards; nothing worked.

Nothing could stop the storm of pitiful tears that leaked from his tired eyes. So, he worked through them and finished patching you up the best the blue devil could.

Another strained whimper left his lips as he straightened himself back up. You didn’t live at the DMC with the brothers, so Vergil did not have any of your clothes. He knew he couldn’t just leave you naked (since anyone could walk in and see you) so he rustled through his clothing. Vergil didn’t have much in the sense of “casual” clothes which made this difficult.

Eventually, he decided on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a sleeveless black turtleneck. He managed to get you into the much-too-big clothing and tucked you into the duvet of his bed.

Vergil spent the rest of the night by your side holding your hand as he quietly grieved.

Sunlight spilled into the dark room through the slightly ajar curtains. It was nearly noon and Vergil hadn’t moved from his spot next to you. Nero and Dante had both peaked in to check on you and the visibly exhausted hunter a few times… which they only got stared at in response.

The blue devil could hear your heart and your breathing just fine; but, was unable to keep himself from thinking you weren’t going to make it. He had convinced himself that this whole ordeal was his fault.

“Maybe if you hadn’t had such a noticeable trinket on you wouldn’t have been taken.” he thought, “or was it because you have been associated with our cursed bloodline that this happened?”

He felt a stinging in his eyes start once more, “I should have been there. It is my job to protect you and keep you safe. I failed you just like I have to everyone else,” his lips quivered as his breath stuttered, “Perhaps you would be better off without me,” Vergil’s chest heaved and his face twisted into a grimace. Once more, he had lost control of his emotions as he unintentionally tightened his grip on your hand.

“You trying to break my fingers?” a hoarse sarcastic voice snapped Vergil to attention. You had woken up and were staring at him with a gentle concerned crease of your brow.

Without a word, Vergil pulled you into a tight hug. Even if he wanted to say anything, he couldn’t; not in the distraught state he was in. Although you were still weak, you began to rub his back as you hugged. You relished in his scent and touch; something that felt like a distant memory while ensnared in the demon’s body.

“Miss me?” you heard and felt him shutter. He pushed further into you making you acutely aware of the large slice on your midsection, “Ow, fuck--”

Vergil left the hug upon realizing what happened and, still unable to speak, pointed to your torso. With unsteady hands, you rolled up the very loose black fabric, “Oh…”

Pulling the shirt back down, you looked at Vergil. His face was puffy and his eyes were bloodshot with prominent tear stains running down his face. Slowly you reached for your lover’s face and gently thumbed one of the tears from his cheek.

Vergil grabbed your hand and held it to his lips, just setting them against your cold skin. His expression was a mixture of painful sadness and overbearing happiness. A crease formed on his brow as he shut his eyes tightly. You could see Vergil trying to piece together what to say.

A few brief moments passed before he spoke, scarcely louder than a whisper, “I thought…” you felt his lips shake against your clammy skin, “I thought you were…” Vergil couldn’t bring himself to finish his words.

You sadly smiled as you used your held hand to thumb over his stiff fingers, “and leave you alone? Not in a million years, Vergil.”

The tremble in his lips worsened as his lips gently kissed your hand, stifling a whimper.

After he let go of your hand, you moved to sit on the edge of the bed allowing your feet to dangle off the side, “Come here..?” you beckoned to your unraveling lover.

“Are you sure--I do not want to hurt you again,” his response was sheepish and meek.

Not taking no for an answer, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto your lap. Having the large devil on your lap would have typically been uncomfortable; but, your want to hold him and comfort him in such a distraught state overrode every other thought.

He hesitantly straddled your lap. You noticed his uncertainty and gently pulled him closer, “Let me hold you, please?” you were trying to reassure him.

Which seems to have worked; he hastily put his arms around you. He held on tightly grabbing wads of the loose shirt’s fabric as if he were actively being pulled off of you. Since he was taller than you, his head rested atop yours. The side of your face was resting on his chest and your arms were wrapped around him as you began to rub his back once more.

The man’s breathing became ragged as he fought with himself and his emotions.

“Vergil, it’s going to be okay,” you lovingly rubbed your face against his chest, hearing his heart racing, “you can let go now.”

This small set of words finally undid the eldest son of Sparda.

You had seen Vergil cry before, but only in small quiet amounts; never as raw and shattered as this. The hunter began to shake within your grasp. The only noise coming from the man was loud uncontrolled sobs and sharp breathing. His grip on the shirt had become a death grip; holding on tight enough to rip through the tightly woven fabric. A deep rumble came from his chest as it seemed even his demon was crying out in anguish.

Deep within, you knew that these tears were for much more than your own disappearance. You knew that this strong soul had finally reached a breaking point. Closing your eyes, you pushed yourself into him and held him tightly, whispering sweet words of comfort to him. Gently and slowly, you kneaded against his back with your hands; knowing that it would comfort the blue devil.

Eventually, his cries slowed and his grip loosened. Vergil’s body shifted as he longingly kissed the top of your head. Letting out a heavy sigh and shutter, he leaned back. You smiled at him. Vergil smiled in return, his eyes creased at the edges pushing the few remaining tears from his eyes. He took one of his hands and placed it on your bicep. The other found its way to your face. He thumbed over your cheek and lips with an undertone of uncertainty and disbelief; that this was real, that you were home.

You leaned into the warmth of his palm, “I missed you too, Vergil…” a wave of a soft sadness mixed with love washed over you, “so very much.”

ENDING NOTES: Hope y’all like the art with this one--admittedly this would’ve been done much sooner if I hadn’t decided to add that. The scales and all textures are not things I drew; they are all sampled from real things--the feet, for example, are textured using orange peel(s). All colors (except the maroon scales) are from Nelo Angelo and both of Vergil’s sin triggers--I did change some saturations, but the basis for them is all from the stoic man’s palettes. ⏳⏳⏳ I swear the next thing is not going to be more angsty/sad Vergil. I actually was writing this alongside “What Would They Think”--I’d get bored with one and write some for the other lol. Hopefully, you enjoyed this story! Much love y’all (I’m thinking something with V or Nero next; which, Nero’s H/Cs are the hardest thing for me to write for some fucking reason lmao idk what is going on with that.)

Bonus short story that I wrote as a warm-up; post story stuff:

Nero walked down the stairs of the Devil May Cry with a prominent dejected expression. With a small bounce to his step, the youngest Sparda descendant walked towards the fridge; however, an ‘ahem’ cough caught his attention.

J.D. Morrison was sitting on the edge of Dante’s desk smoking his typical stogie. The said owner of the desk was sitting there with a manilla folder in hand, staring at Nero.

Dante set the folder down, “So--” he leaned back in his chair, “How is he?”

Nero quickly glanced between the two, unsure of what he should and could say in front of the company broker.

The red devil raised a brow, “Well?”

“Uh-” Nero centered himself into Dante’s view, “He’s okay. Nothing’s really changed much.”

Dante slowly nodded and bit his tongue in thought for a moment, “... They awake?”

“No, doesn’t seem like they’ve even moved.”

“Damn it,” the younger twin sighed, “Let’s hope they do soon; I can’t stand seeing him like that.”

Nero shrugged, “At least Vergil’s not going to be a dick anymore.”

Dante laughed, “Careful, you might jinx us.” he grabbed the folder he had previously been paging through, “Interested in doing a job with me--takin’ Verge’s place for now?”

Nero took the folder from his uncle. After paging through it and reading it a bit Nero smiled slightly, “Sure, why not. Anything to get me out of here.”

“Good--” Dante turned his attention to Morrison, “We’ll take it.”

The broker smiled, “Glad to hear it. When--”

A loud abrupt noise cut off J.D.’s question. It had come from above them and Nero bolted to the stairs.

“Wait! Nero-” Dante got up fast enough to knock his chair over. He tackled Nero into the wall, preventing his ascension upward, “Stop.”

“Let go of me!” Nero shoved Dante off of him.

Dante put Nero in a sloppy cradle pin; holding him still, “Listen for a minute.”

The young hunter stopped struggling. He furrowed his brow as he whispered, “Is that crying? ”

With the same volume, Dante responded, “Yeah, it’s from Vergil.”

They untangled from the floor and stood up. Both of them decided to grab their gear before Dante acknowledged the semi-confused Morrison, “Let’s take this somewhere else--give Vergil his privacy.”

“Fine by me,” he stood up from the desk, “Although it would be nice to get an explanation once we leave.”

Dante nodded with an unintentional smile, “Not much to say… Just a long overdue reunion.”

ENDING NOTES (FOR THE SECOND STORY): I figure that Vergil and Dante might not get along per se, but are able to be kind of nice to each other. Giving each other support or defense when needed; they are family after all. (This is why Dante wants to leave)

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 4 months

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Any chance I can request 33. , 63. For Cipher X reader. Injured Cipher goes to reader for help ?( Like in the clip , where she's injured ?) Or anything you want . Cipher only having a soft spot for reader anything you want ?

Happy Holidays, I’m Dying ~Soft!Cipher xFem Wife!Reader ~Holiday Bingo

Summary— Cipher shows up at Readers place after being attacked by Dante. It happens to be during the holidays, and you clean the woman up. This is Readers first time seeing her wife in a while… Anon Response— Hi hi anon!! Thank you for the request. I love the idea of a Soft!Cipher…! I hope you Enjoy! ♥️

Previous Day <—found here!

Holiday Bingo <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Request & Prompt-List

Prompt— Home for the Holidays

#33. “Don’t do that… let me see you”

#63. “I’m… I’m afraid I might hurt/break you…”

Warnings: tw: blood and injury, little angst, little fluff, passing out, pain, etc.

Enjoy (;

You heard a loud thud against your front door and then you heard the door bell ring.

You immediately sat up from your bed, quickly putting on your robe and grabbing your gun. You cautiously walked down the stairs of your home, then to the front door. You looked through the peep hole but didn’t see anyone. So you slowly opened the door.

There leaning against the door frame, barely propping herself up and covered in blood, was Cipher. Your breath got stuck in your throat and you immediately put your gun down to help the woman.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go…” Cipher grunted, some blood dribbling from her mouth as she spoke.

You nodded and quickly reached for the woman. Cipher’s body instinctively jolted and almost jumped back at your touch, but her mind calmed her body enough to remember that you were safe.

“I won’t hurt you, love. Please…” you gently pleaded.

Cipher let you take her into your arms, carrying her to the living room and onto one of your couches. She let out small groans and whimpers of pain as you two moved in tandem.

Cipher winced as she sat. Once she was sitting down, you got up to go grab some supplies. She looked around at your festive decorations around the place.

“Nice decorations…” she mumbled.

“Thanks. One sec, let me get some things…” you muttered, before leaving the room.

You came back with your first aid kit and you sat down in between Ciphers legs to tend to her. As you began to inspect the woman’s many injuries, she pulled away, not letting you see her many many deep cuts and jabs.

“Don’t do that… let me see you, love” you softly chided.

Cipher blushed lightly and nodded, letting you properly tend to her wounds.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled before losing consciousness.

You started to panic now. She was losing blood fast, and now she was out like a light. You worked quickly to repair and stitch all her open wounds. After a while, and with a lot of bloody gauze around you, you wiped your forehead after having finished.

Cipher still lay there unconscious, and she would stay that way for a couple more hours. And your work wasn’t full proof, it was only a temporary solution.

When the blond did finally wake up, she was pretty intent on leaving, mumbling something about Toretto and his family.

You grabbed Cipher as she moved to the door, and she winced in pain.

“You can’t leave, you’re in no shape…”

Cipher turned to look at you. Her eyes were glossy and filled with a mixture of sadness and rage.

“I have too.”

“Why…?” You asked softly and vulnerably.

“I’m… I’m afraid I might hurt you… that they might break me by finding you…” she breathed out.

That was one of the most vulnerable things she’d ever said to you. In response, you kissed your wife lightly on the lips.

“Please be safe.”

“You know me, Baby… Always for you.” Cipher hummed, kissing you back with more depth and fervor.

She then pulled away and went to leave out the door, but not before saying one more thing,

“I love you, Baby.” She hummed.

“Hmmm, love you too” you hummed back.

~~~

Next Bingo Fic <—Here!!

Cipher Masterlist

Holiday Bingo 2023 Masterlist

Tag List: @storiesofsvu @aemilia19 @vexed-jade @lunala-rose23 @willowshadenox @sapphixwriter

#storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023 #holiday bingo #holiday bingo 2023 #cipher #cipher x reader #cipher angst #cipher fluff #Charlize Theron #fast and furious #fast and furious fanfiction #fast and furious fic #fast and furious franchise #fast x #fast x movie #fast x 2023 #fate of the furious #cissyenthusiast010155 answers

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quirklessidiot · 6 months

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title: hell's favorite secretary [sneak peak] pairing : Devil!Ryomen Sukuna x F!Lost soul!reader [based on the webtoon 'the devil is a handsome man', DC Comics "Lucifer", and the book and video game 'Dante's inferno'] Genre: Alternate Universe-Hell, angst, mystery/thriller, mild horror, romance, slow burn, hell au, dark comedy, lost soul x devil au

Summary: The faceless man shrouded in mystery tends to be a subject of rumors and false pretenses, but you'd think otherwise when you accidentally caught sight of those grueling red eyes.

General warning for the story: graphic depictions of heavy gore (manslaughter, mayhem, and torture), and explicit sexual scenes, more will be added per chapter. this will be exclusively released in ao3 in december <3 Notes: after reading a couple of pages of dante's inferno, reading lucifer (the comic book), and the devil is a handsome man, it sort of struck my interest to write this story! this is a pretty long series and im actually so excitied to write this lol.

if you're a person heavily practicing the catholic faith, i won't recommend reading this series as this talks and leans on the devil (i'm not a satanist pls), he's not glorified here in anyways but I do recall people who lean heavily on the faith are not fond of reading any media depictions of the devil.

i hope you enjoy! rb's are always appreciated.

There are possibly hundreds of artworks about the devil.

The most famous one is that snake hanging off the forbidden tree or, better yet, a half-animal and half-human. Others would be an ugly babe falling down from the heavens. The most popular modern one would be the one in red with horns on his head, yet your boss did not resemble any of those impressions. Instead, he wore a three-piece suit and had a hole right in the middle of his face.

Yes, you heard that right.

A hole.

All you could see was an empty void of black nothingness. Nobara had said that Sukuna – yes, the devil went by that name — would never show his face to lost souls like you because, as an angel before, seeing him in his proper form would result in instantaneous combustion.

Despite that good reason, talking to him was still disconcerting. The whole situation remained to be anomalous.

The ringing thoughts about your previous conversation with your workmate replay in your head like a broken record, your eyes trickling on the piles of paperwork across the window that revealed your boss leaning against the table with his usual outfit and pink tufts of hair neatly styled away.

You recalled meeting him for the first time and wondering why he seemed somewhat familiar. You had overtly eyed him up and down. Despite the hole in his face, he had caught on quickly and asked what exactly you were doing. Until now, you couldn’t understand the physics behind how he could even see you and talk.

You purse your lips in deep thought as lines form in the middle of your head. You don’t even feel your boss walking up to you on your desk, “Seems like someone’s head is up in the clouds this morning.” he points out.

You immediately sat up straight, your shoulders squared, “Sukuna, Sir…” you jumped, eyeing him somewhat warily.

Despite how he made you feel, the devil was not exactly a strict boss.

He’s rather lax and did not mind procrastination and passing your work at the last minute as long as you did it well. He works on proper hours, gives vacation and leaves, and an appropriate timetable for lunch breaks.

He’s hard to hate for a being who's been blamed for man’s misfortune since time immemorial.

“Was the long weekend still not enough?”

“I’m not exactly a sloth, Sir,” you mumble to yourself, but he catches onto your words and remains unphased. It's uncharacteristic for you to say anything more to him, but you needed a good starter for this conversation to get on, “...Although, I-uh…I do have a question…You remembered our contract, sir?”

One thing that humans were able to grasp correctly about hell and its king is the contract signing and how the devil gives out favors in exchange for something you truly hold dear. For you, since you’re a lost soul, in exchange for changing your status, you’d give proper work hours and help him capture at least eight hundred itinerants.

You’re running on two hundred and fifty so far.

“Oh?” he leans in closer, “That’s not something we talk about every day.” his body language remains fluid and guileless as if he wanted you to speak your mind more, and it only made your palms sweaty despite the coldness of the room, “Would you like to change some conditions? I am, after all, a fair man.” His voice is crisp and light, a charm that made up for his empty face.

“I- well, I’m going to be frank with you, Sir…” you blink, “I- um,” you start to stammer, and it only makes your stomach do different kinds of flips as your mind conjures up different types of worst-case scenarios. It’s not like you couldn’t become a soul after this, right? You’d only have to wait for a century and try to retain your sanity along with it.

He cocks his head to the side, and if you could paint a face on that void of nothingness, you’d wish it would be kind eyes looking down on you, but this was the devil, the man who was struck down from the heavens for being too ‘arrogant and malicious’. You need to be careful with your words, “I…I need information…” you swallowed, your words tumbling out clumsily.

“Information?” your boss remained relaxed, and you knew it was rather diabolic to even pray for God when you were literally in hell, but you had little to no way of reading him. There’s another round of stifling silence; you only want to melt into a puddle of goo this time.

#jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #📝📝.hell's favorite secretary series

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aleskyyy · 5 days

Text

Saved — Kyle Garrick x F!Reader

Three years of marriage with your husband who you thought would change for the better and he didn't. And finally being saved by someone who has been around you all along but both of you didn't know it.

Warnings — fem!reader, light angst, unhealthy relationship, cheating (not reader), attempt of sexual assault, a bit of violence/blood, fluff, fingering, oral [fem!receiving], cum eating, 18+ MDNI, etc.

3,2k words (maybe I'll make a second part, but I don't know when).

Main Masterlist COD Masterlist

You know this is not a healthy relationship to be in. But you still hope your husband can change for the better, giving you the attention you deserve like when you were still dating. Even though you know all this is tiring, you still try to serve your husband well. Cooking food for him, cleaning the house and running errands for you and your husband.

Like right now, you are cooking dinner for you and your husband who will soon be home from work. You cook his favorite food and you hope he comes home from work in a good mood. Especially since today is the third year anniversary of your marriage. You really hope that tonight will go very well.

After your cooking is done, you look at the clock on the wall and it's already seven in the evening. Your husband should have been home half an hour ago. Without thinking about it anymore you immediately arrange the food onto the dining table. After finishing you hurry to clean yourself, you want to look very good in front of your husband.

After cleaning up, you return to sit at the dining table while waiting for your husband to come home. But until the clock strikes ten at night your husband hasn't come home. You tried calling your husband many times but there was no answer. You are very worried about him. You sigh and prepare to clear the dining table.

While clearing the table you hear the door being rudely opened making you rush over. You see your husband come home drunk and with his clothes all messed up. You rush towards him wanting to help him walk but he pushes you roughly.

"Dante, why are you home so late? I've been waiting for you and called you but you didn't answer," you tell him in a worried tone.

You again try to help your husband walk ignoring the smell of the woman's perfume and the color of the lipstick printed on your husband's shirt. You try to get rid of the bad thoughts that cross your head. This must be a one time mistake, your husband won't do it again. You're sure of this.

It's been two weeks since the incident with your husband you are currently shopping for supplies that have been emptied. You're so serious about looking at every shelf in the super market that you accidentally bump into someone in front of you with the trolley you're using. Your eyes widened and you tried to apologize to the man in front of you.

"Oh my God, I'm really sorry. Does anything hurt?" you asked in a panicked tone. The man in front of you just laughs softly while shaking his head.

"No, ma'am. I'm fine," he says casually.

But you're not sure he's really okay, you're sure you hit him a little hard earlier. You try to look at him to see if he's really okay. But your gaze is distracted as you look at his handsome face, which is very sweet in your opinion. A gentle look on his face as he turned to look at you.

"I really apologize. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings," you say feeling embarrassed.

"It's okay. I'm Kyle by the way," he introduced himself with a smile on his face.

"Kyle..." you spell his name softly. Then introduced yourself to him with a smile.

"So, did you shop alone or with someone with this much groceries?" Kyle said as he pointed at the items in your trolley.

You look at your almost full trolley, you didn't think it would be this much. Especially since you came here by taxi. You really regret it now.

"Ah no, I'm alone," you reply as you push your trolley again.

You thought Kyle would leave after hearing your answer but you were wrong he walked after you. You walk side by side while talking casually, Kyle even helps you pick up the items on the high shelves. When you have finished shopping you smile happily because you were faster than usual, thanks to Kyle. You looked at him with a smile full of gratitude.

"Thank you Kyle, you shouldn't have helped me. But I'm really grateful and once again sorry for bumping into you earlier," you say to Kyle who smiles at you.

"I said I was fine, and I was happy to help you too," Kyle replies.

"But I made you stay longer, even though you didn't shop as much as I did," you say pointing at the groceries in his hand.

Kyle just laughs. He walks with you to the cashier. After you guys finished paying, Kyle took more of your shopping bags and helped you carry them out. You try to take your shopping bags from his hands but he still wants to carry your stuff.

"So where's your car?" Kyle asks.

You feel embarrassed again, you should have brought a car but your husband's car suddenly didn't start so he brought your car to work instead.

"I took a taxi here, just leave it and I'll find a taxi," you reply as you put down the groceries you're carrying.

"Let me take you home," he invites.

You can only shake your head. You've just met, you don't want to take any chances. Besides, it's not good to go home with another man when your husband isn't home. Kyle seemed to know what you were thinking, trying to calm you down.

"Believe me I'm not a criminal who would kidnap people," he said with a laugh.

You laughed stiffly at his words, Kyle who saw your expression at his unhelpful words scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.

"I'm sorry, I just want to help you that's all," he said.

You tried to consider his request. If you went with Kyle you wouldn't spend any more money than you had to. Finally, you nodded your head in acceptance of Kyle's invitation. Hopefully you made the right choice. Kyle carries your groceries back to the jeep that you believe belongs to him.

You try to help Kyle put your groceries in but he takes them all and puts them in by himself. Then he opens the passenger door and lets you in. Even your husband when you were still dating until now has never opened the car door for you. You thank Kyle and he follows you into the car. After starting the car Kyle asks where you live.

"What?" Kyle says after hearing where you live. You think he didn't hear you so you repeat yourself.

"I heard what you said, I just didn't expect you to live there," he says with a chuckle.

You looked at Kyle with a puzzled expression. "Why?"

"Because I also live there, if you know the house at the end of the street is my house," he said.

"That's your house?"

"Yes."

"But as far as I know it's often empty," you confirmed.

Kyle just nodded in confirmation of your words. "Because I rarely go home, if I come home from duty I always sleep in the barracks."

"You're a soldier?" You asked in a surprised. Kyle just nods answer your question while smiling at you briefly then refocuses on the road.

When you got to the road, you showed Kyle which one was your house. Until now you still don't believe that you and Kyle are neighbors because you've never seen him. Or maybe it's because you have a hard time socializing, is what you think.

When you get to the front of your house you panic seeing your car in the garage. It's a sign that your husband is home, but it's still noon and not even lunchtime. You and Kyle get out of the car to get your groceries. Before you can thank Kyle you hear your husband's voice yelling your name. You're so grateful that it's quiet in your neighborhood so you don't become the talk of the neighbors.

"I'm sorry, it looks like my husband came home early," you say while holding your groceries.

"Husband?" You hear the hesitant tone of Kyle's question.

"Oh God, I forgot to tell you that I'm married. I'm really so–"

Once again your husband's voice rang out loudly calling your name. You see your husband standing at the door looking at you and Kyle. Your heart was beating fast, you were afraid that your husband would get angry and do something bad.

"I apologize in advance and thank you for your help, Kyle," you say as you run a little with your groceries.

Kyle who saw you struggling to carry the groceries wants to help but he doesn't want to interfere in someone's household. But Kyle felt angry when he saw you struggling to carry the groceries but your husband didn't help. Still standing by his car, he saw your husband violently close the door to the house. Kyle sighed harshly, he was just attracted to someone but it turned out that the person he liked was married.

It's been three days since he met you, but Kyle is still thinking about you. He feels something odd that makes him not stop thinking about you. He knows he's wrong, you're married and he shouldn't be thinking about someone else's wife. But Kyle felt something was wrong. Since that day, every morning he did his morning running past your house but didn't see you come out of the house. He didn't even see your husband go to work.

It was the fifth day he saw you come out and it looked like your husband wasn't home. You were watering the plants in the yard. Kyle walked up to you and called out to you, making you startle and accidentally splash Kyle with water.

"Kyle!" you yell in surprise at him.

You frantically disconnect the water hose and walk towards Kyle. You tried to dry his face with your hands, Kyle could only laugh and said it was fine. Hearing the sound of his laughter makes you laugh too. Your hands return to your sides. You look at the surrounding area which is quiet because people have gone to work.

"Is your husband home?"

Hearing Kyle's question about your husband makes the smile on your face disappear. Ever since your husband saw you coming home with Kyle he had become more grumpy, especially with your husband having been fired from the company making him dare to hit you when he was angry with you.

"He went out," you reply. The truth is that you don't even know where your husband is at the moment.

Seeing the change on your face made Kyle try to change the subject. But before he could ask about anything else Kyle's eyes caught the bruise under your eye. Even though he knew you were trying to cover it up with makeup, he was sure it was a bruise. Kyle walks slowly towards you and holds your face gently which makes you surprised by his actions.

"What's wrong with your face?" he asked. His voice sounds different in your ears. You instinctively held the bruise under your eye. The bruise caused by your husband last night. You try to smile and answer that you fell in the bathroom last night and hit your face. But Kyle can see through your lie. He moves away from you a little, afraid that if anyone sees your closeness, it will become a problem for you.

"You know I'm here if you need anything, right? I can help you anytime, if I'm not home you can call me."

Kyle looked for something in his pants pocket and found a pen and a small book that he always carried around. He wrote down the number and tore off the paper to give it to you. You can only be silent while accepting it. You are so grateful to have someone like Kyle in your life even though you have only known him for a few days.

"Thank you Kyle, you have no idea how helpful you are right now," you say with a grateful smile.

Tonight you're cooking for your husband who hasn't come home yet, the rain is pouring down with thunder and lightning. As you finish cooking you hear your husband's voice with someone else's voice that you never heard. You walk up to your husband and see a man who looks older than him.

"Dante, who is that?" you ask. But your husband is only silent while looking at the man who is with him. He whispers something to the man then walks out and drives back in his car.

"You know I paid a lot of money for this with your husband. I hope you taste as good as he says," the stranger says.

You try to process the situation in front of you. You try to run towards the door but are quickly stopped by the man. The man pulls you towards the sofa in the living room, he tries to rip off the clothes you are wearing. With all your might you try to escape his grasp. You grabbed the man's face and pressed your thumb on his right eye until he screamed and blood came out of it. He immediately releases you and holds his eye.

"Bitch!" he yelled at you.

Before he could touch you again, you picked up the vase on the table and smashed it on the man's head. After that you ran outside barefoot. The area near your house looks empty because of the heavy rain. You run towards Kyle's house at the end of the street. You hoped he was still home and not on duty.

When you get to Kyle's house, you knock on his door with all your might. Tears are already mixing with the rainwater on your face. Your body shakes with fear and cold. You feel like you're going to faint if Kyle doesn't open the door. He looks at you with a worried face and brings you in. Kyle hugs you from the side to take you inside his house. He finds clothes and towels for you to wear. He takes you to the bathroom and asks you to change without demanding any explanation from you. When you come out of the bathroom Kyle takes you to the kitchen and makes you some hot tea.

"If you're calmer and want to talk I'll listen," Kyle says as he places the hot tea in front of you.

"He wanted to sell me, my husband wanted to sell me to someone and that person was still in my house when I ran away. I wounded his eyes and hit his head with a vase. And I don't know if he's still there or not," you explain in a trembling voice. Your tears fall again remembering what just happened to you.

You see Kyle taking his cell phone out of his pocket and calling someone, you can only hear a little of what he's saying. All you know is that he's on the phone with someone he calls captain and there are strange words like 'ghost' and 'soap'. You try to calm yourself down and drink the tea Kyle made. Kyle sits back down next to you and holds your hand gently.

"Everything will be fine, maybe tomorrow I need you to answer some questions. So you can sleep here, I'll prepare a guest room for you," he said while stroking your hand.

And sure enough, the next day Kyle somehow got all the information about your husband. Even your husband was linked to the drug dealer. Kyle also got information about the man last night that you confirmed with his picture in the file. And a few hours later you hear the news that your husband and the man last night were arrested by the police but unfortunately the car carrying them crashed leaving your husband and the man dead on the spot. You know this all seems strange, but you ignore it all. In fact, you feel relieved when you hear the news. You didn't even come to your husband's funeral and let his family take care of it.

You're washing dishes when you feel hands around your waist. You feel little kisses being placed on your neck. You can only laugh amusedly when your neck is bitten lightly.

"Kyle! I'm washing dishes here. Don't distract me," you said with a laugh. Kyle just laughed while kissing your cheek lightly.

It's been two years since that night, and one year since you and Kyle got together. He's been patiently waiting for you to open your heart to someone else ever since that night. He even moved out of the neighborhood and took you with him so that you wouldn't remember what happened that night. He took you to a house near the house of a man named John Price. And you know John Price is his captain and also the person who helped you that night.

"I want to take you out to dinner tonight. I hope you'll wear the red dress we bought earlier," Kyle said. His hand moved to graze your inner thigh which was only covered by his t-shirt.

"Tonight?"

Kyle just cleared his throat and went back to kissing your neck while giving a small bite there. His hand slowly touched your pussy from outside the underwear you were wearing. Kyle carried you straight to your room when he saw you finished washing the dishes. He immediately laid you on the bed and pinned you there.

"What are you doing, handsome?" You ask in a flirting tone that makes him laugh.

"You know what I'm going to do," Kyle said as he took off his your t-shirt. Leaving you with only your underwear.

Kyle kisses you passionately again, he plays with your breasts making you moan his name. Kyle is always gentle with you and focuses on your needs first. His kisses move down your neck and bite there, leaving a lot of hickeys. Then he brings his mouth to your breasts, taking turns sucking on them. He sucks one of your breasts and lightly nibbles on the other.

Kyle goes back down to your pussy and kisses it from outside the underwear you're wearing. His tongue plays with your pussy and makes you moan loudly and your back arches. Kyle quickly takes off your underwear and throws it in a random direction. His lips went back to kissing your pussy and suckling your clit.

Kyle puts one of his fingers inside your pussy and moves it slowly. Soon he fastens his movements after inserting another finger there and curls his finger on your tight walls which makes you cry out his name loudly. He also goes back to kissing your pussy and gives your clit a gentle bite. Your breathing has become ragged and your lower abdomen is tightening. Soon you will come and Kyle knows it so he quickens his hand movements and kisses your pussy even more.

"Kyle I'm coming, please, please, Kyle..."

"Come baby, come in my mouth."

Your hand gripped his hair as you came. Your body trembles and your toes curl. As you came Kyle kept licking your pussy which was leaking cum.

"Tonight baby, tonight I will fuck you so hard. I love you so much," Kyle said. He glanced at the bedside table drawer for a moment. Let's hope tonight goes well.

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