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animelovelover123 · 10 months

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DMC Boys x Reader – I Want to Feel Fear

Parings: Dante, Reboot Dante, Vergil, Reboot Vergil, Nero, V, Sparda x Reader (Reader is gender neutral except in Sparda’s story where Reader is female)

Synopsis/Author's Note: The DMC boys are asked to do some CNC. And not the light dubious consent stuff. No, the reader wants it hard. To feel fear, to cry and scream, to fight like their life depends on it but still be held down and used.

Well damn. What are the boys going to do with you?

Disclaimer: All acts in this story are done by consenting participants acting out a fantasy with no true threat to either's well-being. If you are reading this, please understand that drawing/writing/reading/imagining things of this nature does NOT equate to desiring or supporting real-world assault.

Trigger Warnings: CNC, stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, drugging, knife play, somno, predator/pray play, blood play, implied pregnancy sex, threatening of humiliation, implied semi-public masturbation, sadism, degrading comments, overstimulation, not beta read

Dante

Oh my… who knew his little angel was so devilish?

Sure, why not? Dante has entertained plenty of people with some freaky kinks, so he knows there isn’t anything wrong with two adults consensually doing some nasty stuff. He’s down to try if it will make you happy. Now, how to go about it…

You’re a demon hunter and his longtime partner so he knew you could handle being roughed up a bit. But what exactly are you looking for babe?

A sudden strike by a stranger (played by Dante)?

Some predator and prey hunting?

Some public humiliation?

Well… maybe not that last one because Dante causes that all the time with his antics anyway.

What would he like? Dante had to sit and think about that one. This is a whole new world he has never really explored before.

But you know, there was this one fantasy he had. And if he just cranked up the aggression then… Ya, that could work.

With a final shot, the last demon’s screech was silenced. As Dante set Rebellion on his back, keeping Ebony in his left hand, he looked over at you. You looked so sweet and vulnerable as your trembling subsided and your puffy red eyes with pupils blown wide relaxed a bit as the last of your attackers, as far as the character you were playing knew, evaporated. It was a weak and timid version of you he rarely got to see.

“Thank you so much for saving me, sir.” You say as you stepped down from the create you had climbed on to get out of reach of the calf-tall demons that had attacked you.

“Well, I couldn’t just sit back and let the world lose out on such a pretty little thing now could I?” As Dante draws closer to you, he watches you put on a shy little smile at his compliment. How cute. Too bad he won’t be seeing it for a while. “Unfortunately though I don’t run a charity so I’m gonna need to be paid for my hard work.”

“Pay?” Your relaxed posture tensed back up quickly.

“Yep, got bills to pay you know. Now let’s see…” With his free hand, Dante stroked his chin in exaggerated thought. In his other, he twirled Ebony around purposely within your field of view. “with it being an out-of-the-blue job that took time out of my busy day… I’d say 30 sounds about fair.” Dante announced in a particular way just so he could see your eyes light up with hope so he could dash it.

“30 bucks?”

Dante chuckled.

“No sweetheart, 30 thousand.”

“30 thousand dollars!? I’m sorry but don’t have that kind of money.” You keep talking, pleading your case, but Dante made a loud humming noise that told you he was too busy thinking to listen.

“You know,” He eventually says, cutting you off. “I think I can make an exception for someone as cute as you.” He gives a playful wink as he stops playing with Ebony to press its muzzle into the crown of your hair. With just enough force for you to take the hint, Dante presses down on you until you sink to your knees. “I know just how you can pay me.”

===+===+===

After swallowing, as ordered, you are finally able to wrench your head back, freeing yourself from the repeated gaging to drag in fresh air. You start to catch your breath, though each gasp makes your sore throat burn. You glance up at Dante who has since moved his gun from your head and now slouched over you, hands on the create behind you, with closed eyes and heavy breaths as his high washes off. Seeing this as your chance you turn and start to crawl away. You make it a couple of feet before you’re grabbed by your hair, not pulled back but held in place.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” Dante practically growls. “You aren’t done paying your bill.”

“But,” You stay in place, too scared to move. “I just…”

“Auwh, did I forget to tell you?” Dante moved to squat down beside you so he could look at your fearful expression. “I charge by the corps. Now remind me again, how many demons were there?”

“S-six.”

Dante gave a wolfish grin.

===+===+===

“Where are you taking me?” You whine, far too tired to cry out at this point. You are moved from where Dante had thrown you over his should and dropped onto the back seats of Dante’s open-roofed car, your head behind the driver’s seat.

“I’m taking you back to my place.” Dante circles the car but instead of sliding into the front seat, he places one hand on the back door and the other on the driver seat headrest. Using them as leverage he leans over you, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over your delightfully confused and concerned face.

“Your place? But I paid off my debt, didn’t I?”

“Yep, that you did. Even gave a little extra tip.” Dante shot you a toothy grin. “But you know what? I might just be addicted to that perfect little body of yours. So, I think I’m gonna keep you. It’ll be nice coming home every day to such a sexy cockwarmer.”

Reboot Dante

Really? You’re into that?

Surprisingly Dante actually rejects your request at first.

The idea of forcefully taking you at some club or in an alley just brings up memories of the times Dante has beaten some prick half to death for trying the same thing.

It will take a little convincing, along with some extra good treatment to rack up some IOU’s, but you can get him on board.

He’s still a bit hesitant so you need to start him with something he is a bit more comfortable with, something he is used to.

Dante and you are well accustomed to fooling around in places you probably shouldn’t. It helped that Dante had spent most of his life being sporadically homeless so he knew all sorts of nooks and crannies where a person or two could hide away from prying eyes.

So, take those moments, add a sprinkle of anonymity and a heaping cup of force, and now we’re talking.

You stand holding open one of the back doors of your friend’s car, allowing others to pile in so you can snag the window seat. Just as the last person slides into place, you hear the cocking of a gun.

“Don’t move,” Came a gruff male voice, sounding both loud enough to be heard but also distant. You knew it well, but still tensed up on instinct. “act calm.”

“You comin’?” Asks one of your friends in a joking tone, looking up at you with a blissfully unaware smile.

“Tell em your walking home.” Came the voice again, plenty loud enough to be heard by your friends, but it was only you with the power to hear him. You give your friends the lie you had been fed. They questioned you a bit but eventually drove off, none the wiser. “Go back into the fair.” The gun behind you makes a noise, possibly pointing in the direction the man wanted you to go.

No matter what it was, it served to snap you out of your panicked obedience as the reality of the situation came back to you. You stay stalk still, brain hastily fliting through thoughts but unable to settle on one.

“Hey, get going.” The man pushes, impatience evident in his voice and in another fidget of the gun. Without thinking you defiantly shake your head. Before taking your next breath the gun fires. The firing has a similar distant sounding quality to it as the man’s voice, but the explosion of the streetlight above you is too close.

“I told you to move.” Snaped the man. This time you follow orders.

You moved stiffly but with purpose, following instructions to a tee as the man tells you when and where to turn. You don’t speak, don’t turn around, don’t try to run for fear of ending up like that streetlight.

“Get on the freewheel, alone.” The last word came out with a bit of venom. The line was short as it was near closing time, so it didn’t take long for it to be your turn. The enclosed cabin shifts a bit under your weight as you step on, and as the door is closing it shifts again. You and the man ride a quarter of the rotation, the cabin halfway up where no one on the ground could see you, before he gives his next command.

“Lift up your top and drop your pants.” Even though you could have seen this coming, the suddenness made your brain stutter. Another loud clack of the gun got your hands moving again. Despite the intense trembling of your hands, you are able to undo and push down your pants, letting them fall to the cabin floor. “Underwear too.” This time you do struggle a bit, though out of nervousness as you look outside of the cabin to see all the people milling about down below. When the smaller cloth joins your pants you only barely catch a guttural groan from behind you. “Sit and spread your legs.” This order actually gets you something, aside from embarrassment. It gives you the first chance to look at your assailant, or it would have if he was truly there.

You had only recently started your medium training with Kat so you couldn’t make out any features of the man in Limbo. All you see is a white fog-like mass in the shape of a man looking down at you while pointing a gun-shaped object at your chest. A gun that could very much kill you through the division of realities.

“Don’t forget your top.” He said, motioning with his gun at the hem. As you pull your shirt up to reveal your chest, but not off, the figure sits on the bench across from you. The gun doesn’t drift from its target in the slightest. “Now touch yourself.”

“What!?”

“You heard me.” There was no compassion in the man’s voice. If anything, there was humor, as if he was amused by your shame. “Get yourself off. Right here, right now.”

“But…” Your voice trails off as you look out of the cabin window. “the ride will end soon.” The freewheel had made half its rotation.

“Don’t worry,” The figure shifted. “it usually takes about an hour for the fire truck to get here to help people off.” The figure lifts from his seat to lean out the cabin window and take a shot down towards the ground. You hear the harsh screeching of a bullet cutting through metal and the freewheel immediately comes to a screeching halt, leaving your cabin just shy of the top where no one could possibly look in at what you were doing.

“You better get the show on the road.” The man taunted as he sat back down, one hand pointing the gun back at you while the other reached down towards his crotch. “Times ticking and I’m not letting you stop until we’re both done.”

Vergil

You wish to be dominated? Well, he agrees there was no better person than him to do that for you.

Despite being far more sophisticated than most demons and being able to hide your physical traits, so much so that you lived among humans with none the wiser, you were a full demon. A demon whose body had exceptional healing powers because, no matter what gender you fell into, every one of your species was predisposed to be taken by more powerful demons. It’s just how your people were, always ready and waiting to be dominated. And even though you had formed more humanity than most others of your kind, the desire was still there.

Vergil understood this, having studied demonology extensively and having sensed your demonic energy calling out to his, enticing him to act.

Up until then, even though he was more in tune with his demon half than his human half, he was far too disciplined and civilized to give in to such boorish desires. His goal was to gain power and control. Giving into his lust and taking you, one of the several demons that served under him, would not bring him closer to that objective.

And yet, when you came to him proclaiming your affection and desire for him an alluring rush of dominance came over him. It wasn’t the same feeling as when he defeated an opponent in combat or even when his followers bowed for him. This was deeper, intimate, primal.

It was no use. Even with the generous head start you had been given, no matter how far, how long, or how fast you ran he was there. Sometimes behind you, sometimes appearing in front of you, but always close, as if you were but a worm desperately trying to crawl away from a swooping bird. You were too easy a target when in open areas so had tried to make this more difficult for your pursuer by zigzagging in a densely forested area, but that only slowed him slightly. Still, it slowed him, so to a denser area you ran. Particularly, you started squeezing your way through bushes and overgrown demonic thorny areas where standing straight or walking was an impossibility. This worked for a couple of minutes, even giving you brief moments of reprieve as the sound of his movements and perturbed tisks faded behind the foliage on occasion. However, with him already being on edge with his dragged-out arousal, this obstacle only served to ignite his frustration. With easy flicks of the Yamato the offending plants were sliced to ribbons. Upon noticing this and realizing that continuing to slither through vines while Vergil cut through them was only slowing you down, you leave the dense plants back into the forest. You don’t make it more than a few feet through before an ethereal blade of blue energy pierces your torso, knocking the air from your lungs and pushing your upper body forward harshly, causing you to fall to the ground. Just as you are catching your breath and attempting to lift onto your hands and knees a boot plants itself firmly on your back and forces you back down.

“Foolish.” Vergil calmly said as the summon sword dissolved away, allowing your body to begin its rapid repair of the hole left behind. “Did you really think some fauna would protect you?”

The moment your wound is healed enough you swiftly slash at the leg pinning you down. He kicks your hand back, but in turn lifts his foot from your back. You take the opportunity and scurry out from under him but his hand grabs the back of your head and slams it down into the dirt for your disobedience. An exposed tree root slashed open your brow, spilling blood down your already red face.

“I seem to have underestimated your audacity,” Vergil kneels down, one leg atop your back to hold you in place. “and overestimated your intelligence.” He lifts your head from the dirt by pulling back on your hair. The streams of blood from your, already healed, brow cut caught Vergil’s attention. His cold eyes start to glow and he unconsciously flashes into his demon form as he leans forward to taste your spilled blood. A pleased yet unsatisfied rumbling growl slips from his lips as he pulls back to look at your now teary-eyed face. “Did you truly think I would simply let you go?”

Reboot Vergil

He is glad you came to him for this.

Not just because Vergil is your lover and is happy you trust him enough to admit your darker desires. It was because Vergil knew plenty of ways to get what he wanted out of someone without leaving lasting damage.

True, none of his previous experiences were done with the intent of gaining sexual pleasure but if you were the one in the chair that would come naturally.

What was important was that he knew how to track and kidnap someone without causing alarm. He knew all sorts of ways to tie down a person to make them unable to move, to restrict their breathing, to stick them to any surface, all while leaving space to get at vital areas. He could find pressure points to abuse, both physically and mentally. He knew how to keep someone quiet and how to make them talk. Vergil knew how far he could push a person before they irreparably break.

Even with this knowledge, or perhaps because of it, he doesn’t just jump right in. He takes a few weeks to gather more information on your interests and your limits. Most of his testing is done secretly, through things like training, medical testing, and a bit rougher sex.

How flexible are you? How long can you hold a position? Are you allergic to any food, materials, or medications? How well can you breathe through different materials or with extra pressure on your chest? How long can he keep you awake? How much can he make you cum before it starts to hurt, and how many more until its unbearable?

By the time he actually formulates a plan of attack he knows you, your interests and your limits, better than you know yourself.

Your consciousness raises and falls, like a fishing float bobbing in the water trying to stay afloat while something weighs it back down. In your flickering between memories and dreams, you think back to when you fell asleep. Or, to be more accurate, when you were put to sleep.

You had just entered your home. Nothing felt strange or out of place as you strolled into your bedroom, closing the door behind you. There were only a couple of seconds of peace before something came from behind you and covered your face. It seemed like a mask, as it was shaped to fit the curves of a human face, yet there were no holes to see or breathe through. The inside was a damp cloth-like material that smiled of bitter medicine and the outside was a hard plastic, which you found out when your body instinctively started clawing at the thing. You also found a gloved hand holding the mask to your face.

Another arm wrapped around your upper half, pinning your curled-up arms to your chest. The pressure on your front forces you back until you’re pressed against the broad chest of a sturdy body. You then try to kick your legs back and though you feel the impact the other person’s legs don’t buckle, only brace themselves. Your consciousness starts to fade away as you desperately gasp for air through the cover. In a last-ditch effort, you try to crouch down to slip from the assailant’s arms but they simply hold you aloft as if you were a small, weak, helpless dog. The last thing you remember is your limbs feeling so heavy that they fall slack.

“You’re finally awake.” Noted a close yet muffled voice, bringing your thoughts back to the present. You finally crack your eyes open to see Vergil, turned away as he types on his laptop which sat on a side table. You, in your laying position atop a cushioned table, try to lift your hand up and towards him but soon find that you can’t. Not only do your limbs feel so heavy that your stiff muscles are unable to move them more than teetering, but also because there were leather straps binding your wrists and ankles to the table. The sound of your attempted movement brings Vergil’s eyes to you, browse straight in a relaxed observance and mouth covered by a surgical mask. “Try not to move around too much, you wouldn’t want to dislodge the needle and cause unnecessary harm.” Vergil explained as he carefully pushed the side table out of the way.

Though unable to lift your head you can turn enough to see a needle imbedded in your arm from the corner of your eye. It was similar to an IV drip but what was actually being injected was unknown to you, though you could hazard a guess that whatever it was what was causing your limbs to be so heavy and muscles so weak.

Suddenly Vergil grabbed your chin with his gloved hand and turned your head towards him.

“Speak.” He ordered like you were a dog who still hadn’t learned the trick. “Let me hear your voice.” He didn’t move an inch more, not until you verbally responded. He was looking, though not hoping, for a particular word.

“Vergil, why?” You say clearly, not giving the word but proving that the chemicals in your body weren’t stopping you from doing so. Your words don’t seem to get a reaction out of him. He does release your chin though, instead trailing his fingertips up your jaw and then down your neck and chest, showing that even though your body was heavy it still felt touch just as, if not more, intense as it usually did.

“Well,” Vergil lifted his hand from your body. “you see,” He reached into his coat pocket and produced a pocketknife. “I thought I had made my feelings clear when I transferred you to be my personal assistant.” The knife flipped open to reveal a six-inch blade. “And yet you just don’t seem to get it.” Vergil drags the tip of the knife down your chest, not hard enough to break through the fabric but so you can feel the danger drag against your skin. “I have realized,” You hear a click under the table and then the whirling of machines as the bottom half of the table starts to split in two and fold, in turn forcing your legs open and your knees to bend. “that waiting around until you notice my affection isn’t going to work. So,” Vergil slides the knife’s dull side down to your crotch before flipping it around so its curved tip pierces the cloth covering your crotch. “I must make them undeniably clear to get through to you.” In one quick, calculated movement Vergil slices through your clothing, opening up your top layer completely and putting enough of a hole in your underwear that he can easily tear them open. “And if that means filling your body and mind with nothing but me, then so be it.”

Nero

W-what!?

Nero panics a bit when you first tell him. Growing up in a religious town where sex out of wedlock and prostitution were treated as criminal offenses resulted in him having a very limited knowledge of sex and all its facets. He is able to calm down once you explain things to him: how it would all just be an act and that you only want to do these sorts of things with him.

That doesn’t mean he can handle doing it though. Sure, he can get rough with people like Dante and Credo, but if he senses the slightest bit of fear in someone like you or Kyrie he launches into protective mode. How was hesupposed to be the one causing the fear?

Yet he was also the kind of partner who was eager to please so he would try for you. ‘Try’ being the operative word here because the moment you start tearing up and pretend to plead for him to stop, he falls apart.

He got close, once, but it was far from satisfying. It was a simple scenario. Nero knocks on your door claiming to be a delivery man. When you open your door he forces his way in, has his way with you, and then escapes. Except he kept breaking character to ask if you were okay and if you wanted to stop, despite already having a safe word. And after the deed was done, Nero was supposed to leave for 5-10 minutes to let you stew in the moment. He didn’t even last half a minute before he barged back in to check on you and start apologizing.

It takes a while but eventually you two do find a middle ground that satisfies you both. One that coincidently utilized his engineering skills.

Nero hummed a tune to himself as he cleaned Blue Rose to fill the silence. With how often he wanted to hide away in his room as a teenager, Nero is surprised by how uncomfortable silence felt now that he moved out of his adopted family’s home. Then again, he usually had you to fill the quiet with but not right now. Speaking of which…

Nero looked over at his laptop which fed him consistent diagnostics and just as he did an error suddenly popped up. Looks like his experiment stopped. Did something malfunction or did you turn it off? Either way, he needed to check on it.

As Nero descended the long set of stairs to the basement, he took note of the lack of noise revibrating off the brick walls. That probably meant you weren’t up and about then.

His suspicion was proven correct when he reached the bottom step and there you sat atop the modified tobibako, just as he had left you. You noticed his presence, turning towards him but not saying anything, not that the silk rope in your mouth would let you say anything coherent.

“Sorry for the hold-up,” Nero said as he placed his laptop on the floor beside the end of the tobibako and plugged it in directly so it could run a proper scan of the mechanisms. “I’ll try to get this fixed up quickly.” The first step was to check the wireless kill switch.

It was still in place, untouched, clipped into the bottom level of the tobibako. It sat right where you could easily reach with your right foot, even if the chains attached to the cuffs around your ankles were wound so tight that you couldn’t lift your feet from the floor on either side of the tobibako. Still, just to be sure you hadn’t been left without an escape, he flicked the switch. Instantly the shackles holding your legs in place unlatched and the metal tube locking your arms behind your back opened up. As the tube, and the stand holding it up, retracted back into its compartment, you slump, hands coming forward to slow your descent until your heaving chest is pressed into the cushioned top level of the tobibako.

It didn’t take long for Nero’s laptop to finish its scan, informing its owner where the problem lay. Thankfully it was an easy fix, but it would take a couple of minutes which was fine with Nero. It gave you a chance to catch your breath and/or tell him if you were done for the day. When you didn’t move, and he even caught a blissed smile through the gag, he knew you were enjoying yourself.

“Alright,” Nero closed the hatch and looked to his laptop to make sure all systems were go. “that otta do it.”

You finch, realizing what his words entailed. But before you can move Nero activates the ‘middle link’ which was a curved mettle bar that, since you were laying across the top layer, looped around your midsection to lock you in place. He had built it with your measurements in mind so it wasn’t so tight it restricted your breathing, but it held you flush against the tobibako as it sprung back to life. The top layer vibrated aggressively while the extended lump pressed against your crotch vibrated violently.

You nearly scream behind your gag while your legs flailed and your hands cling to the tobibako as if it could steady you.

“Thanks again for helping me with testing.” Nero said while moving the kill switch from the bottom level to the top, taking a moment to grasp your trembling fingers and lead them to the button so you knew where it was and he knew that you could reach it. “Though with the holdup I may have to extend the timer so I can collect enough data.” You let out a long whine in protest but all you get is Nero’s fingers running through your damp hair. “Not too much longer, don’t worry. Just another… say… 40 minutes until your snack break?”

So these are the desires you have been holding back.

Though catching him a bit off guard, V is fully accepting and supportive of your fantasy.

As a lover of poetry, he has read countless works of literature describing the pleasures brought on by any and every manner of things. And so, though he does not feel it himself, V can understand how one would find it alluring to have someone so attracted to you that they are overtaken with passion, momentarily abandoning common sense or morality to satisfy their desire for you.

The only issue holding V back from satisfying your needs was his lack of strength. Though not as frail as his thin body may have you believe, V was still leagues behind his fellow demon hunters, which you were one of.

If you did lose yourself in fear and panic, as you said you wanted to, then V would be no match against your struggle. His physical strength in battle came from his familiars, and he was dead set against utilizing them for such intimate things. He also refuses to incapacitate you through alcohol, drugs, or serious injury. And even if he attempted to use restraints on you, you would throw him off with ease which would quickly shatter the illusion.

Fortunately, it is discovered that your thrill is more so in the fear of being hunted and being powerless to stop it.

An almost supernatural shadow, oppressive, untouchable, and always looming close by no matter how far you run? That, V could do.

You can hear them, the footsteps, ever encroaching closer but never reaching you. The cool night air both added to the chill seeping into your bones yet was not enough to cool your adrenalin-filled boiling blood. You would think having stuck to a main road sprinkled with cars and pedestrians would have brought you comfort, but even through the clamor you could hear the distinct footsteps. The light flicks of leather souls hitting the concrete then snapping back up to the foot, the light clinking of chains, and the tapping of a pointed cane. The sounds, kept uneven purposely to garner the attention of those looking for it, rang in your head like an alarm. And just like an alarm should, your fight or flight instincts kick in and you take off sprinting. You race home as fast as your feet can take you, desperate to escape the looming dread and go back to the one place you were safe.

This hope was shattered when you step into your home to find one of your empty vases not sitting on your coffee table filled with a bouquet of red salvias, camellias, and red begonias.

Now knowing that your home was no longer the safe haven you thought it was, you rush to pack an overnight bag. As you race from room to room you keep an eye out for anything that was new, was missing, or had been used/moved. Your favorite cup had been used and washed; your pillows and blanket had been rearranged; and your shampoo had been used. There were no more gifts, but a few articles of clothing were unaccounted for.

===+===+===

A notification sound from your cellphone snapped you out of your groggy staring at the damp hand towel hanging over the bathroom faucet. It was definitely one of the hotel’s towels, you could tell by the embroidery despite having been in such a rush to sleep anywhere but home that you didn’t even know the name of the hotel you had booked a room in. But why was it damp and hanging over the faucet for drying?

As you wracked your half-awake brain trying to remember if you had used a hand towel last night, you return to the main room. You flop back down onto the overly soft bed and grab your phone. You quickly spring to alert though when you see that the notification was of a text message. To be more specific, it was an image sent via text message from that unknown number. The one that had been periodically sending you photographs without any message to accompany them.

Though hesitant, you take a look at the newest photo. It was of you, in this very hotel room, sound asleep. This time though, instead of being one of you taken from relatively far away or through a window like all the previous ones, this photo was taken closer. So close that the person who took it must have been laying in the bed beside you. Your sleeping face is at peace in the photo, blissfully unaware of the tattoo-covered hand caressing your cheek, smearing the strip of fresh cum.

Sparda

How curious.

Sparda, as a demon, was well aware that many demons desire the thrill of the chase and revel in the act of forcefully taking or being taken. Nonconsensual union was just as common as consensual union in the demon world.

But when he had awoken to justice, he took on a more human moral stance which included the belief that those who took from others what was not offered were criminals.

Clearly, he had more to learn about humans and the vast grey areas in which their beliefs could lay. And he counted himself so very lucky to have you, his loving and patient wife, by his side to show him all the complexities of humanity.

Of course he will fulfill your desires and, speaking honestly, he himself will enjoy indulging a bit in his demonic urges.

What a shame though that not long after you both started to explore this new facet of your marriage, your fragile human body became even weaker.

So be it. Sparda knew how to bring you the same please even with this slight complication.

The sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention. You shift your naked body into a sitting position, which is the most you can do with how short the chains that bind your hands to the headboard and feet to separate bed posts are.

“I have returned dear.” Sparda announced, casually stepping through your shared bedroom door in his human form with a plate in hand.

“Sparda.” Is all you can whimper out as your husband stalks closer, his already impressive 7-foot height seeming even more intimidating with you sitting.

“I must say, I am very disappointed in you my dear.” His apparent perturbed mood could not be heard in his voice or seen in the way he gently placed the plate he had been carrying onto the side table, in turn revealing freshly cooked hashbrowns, an omelet, and a select few pieces of fruit. “The kitchen staff have informed me that you haven’t been eating as of late.” This wasn’t actually true, you were eating just fine, but that’s not part of the show you were both performing.

“Sparda please.” You beg, yanking against the cuffs binding your wrists together to show what you were asking for, but your plea was ignored.

“You can not be neglecting your heath like this.” Sparda took a seat on the edge of the bed beside you, his height making it so he still towered over you. “You need your proper nutrients, especially now that you are not eating only for yourself.” Sparda reaches a hand out to caress your inflated stomach. “You must think of the children dear. They are relying solely on you and your body to nurture them until they are ready to meet the world.”

“Please, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this.” You try to move off the bed but can’t even get both feet to the edge of it, let alone stand up. Sparda pauses then, watching your eyes blown wide in fear and puffy red hinting that you had cried at some point. Despite your desperate expression, you did not give the agreed-upon safe word, so he pressed forward.

“I know that the changes you are going through can be frightening,” His free hand finds yours and gives a light squeeze as if to comfort you. “but this is how things must be. Now that I have chosen you to carry my kin I must keep all three of you safe while you are in this delicate state of creation.”

“Then after?” You cut in, grasping his hand in both of yours and pulling it to your chest. “After I have these children will you let me go?” You looked so very hopeful, but it didn’t last as Sparda chuckled ever so lightly like you were a naïve child asking for a wish to be granted.

“Of course not. The twins need their mother. And who is to say I shall settle for just two heirs? Now then,” Sparda turned just as your face fell into a look of despair. He plucked half of a strawberry off of the plate he had brought in. “it is time for you to eat, my dear.” He holds the fruit to your lips but you turn away with a glare. He responds with one of his own as he grabs hold of your chin and again tries to slide the fruit piece into your mouth. This time you jerk your head back and use a foot to try and push him off the bed in defiance. He does not budge though. He lets out a long, deep sigh as he replaces the strawberry on the plate. “Why must you make things so difficult for yourself?” Sparda moves from a sitting position to a kneeling one. As he forces your legs open you can feel his hands shift momentarily into his demon claws as a warning. “It seems I will have to pacify you first.”

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