#dmc fluff

Vergil’s voice comes out as sharp as the razor in your hand, but he doesn’t move from his position at all, and as you cluck your tongue at him, you can see his arms shift slightly from their position crossed over his chest and shrouded by the old bedsheet you’ve tied around his neck like he’s in a real barber shop. But he doesn’t move, bare feet firmly planted on the ground even though you’re approaching quickly, a far too sure expression on your face.

“This isn’t a sword, calm down.”

“I am calm,” he replies.

He is, if it really comes down to it, but he’s shaking his head at you, a small frown on his face. You ignore it.

With the two of you in here, and Vergil sitting on a dining chair you’ve dragged in from the living room, the bathroom space is a little cramped, but you’ve already decided on the best position for this daunting task of shaving your lover’s face, and that’s straddling his lap, to his surprise.

“You can’t be serious,” he says, despite letting you sit, and despite hooking an arm around your waist as you settle atop him to make sure you don’t slide off. 

Your hand grips his chin, a seductive graze of his jaw, and the second his eyes soften, slides upwards to grip his cheeks playfully.

“If you don’t talk, this will be safer for you.”

Muffled, he rebuts, “Reassuring that you have some consideration for my safety, after all.”

You squeeze harder in response, stifling a giggle as his eyebrows furrow even with his lips jutting out in your grip.

“Shhh.”

He rolls his eyes, but you let go, now reaching over to the adjacent countertop set the razor down, exchanging it for a soft brush coated in shaving cream. You dab lightly at first, and expect him to wince at the cold, but he doesn’t react, blue eyes focused on yours. Held for just a second, you then avert your gaze, focusing on spreading the cream all over the lower half of his face, then you pause, giggling again.

Like a statue, his eyes have never moved away from you.

“You look like some kind of weird snowman.”

“I look like I’m being treated like a plaything.”

You raise your eyebrows, feigning innocence.

“I’m giving you a premium treatment here, aren’t I? People pay dearly for such a service.”

He chuckles, his other arm settling around your waist, before he pulls you snug against his lap once more.

“Including this part?”

This warms you in a way that makes your nostrils flare just once.

You grab the blade quickly.

“Stay still. Don’t do anything sudden-” you pause, bringing the blade carefully and gently against his cheek. “-or silly.”

Vergil’s eyes crinkle again, and it’s one of the things that gives you too much joy, that you gave him the kind of smile that would reach his eyes.

“I thought I was being pampered. Now I’m being threatened.”

“It’s all based on your own behavior,” you quip. “Do what I tell you to, and we’ll both enjoy this experience.”

He raises his eyebrows once, but then stills, and you decide to begin, scraping gently at the surface of his skin methodically, carefully, getting so intense in your focus that it’s only after you’ve gotten the last edge of his jaw, even that very vulnerable area at the front of his neck that you feel criminal getting close to (but suppress an urge to bite), you notice a warmth that isn’t coming from you, growing between your thighs.

Your eyes widen.

“Are you-”

“Do you honestly blame me?” he replies. It’s meant to sound flippant, but it comes out too breathily. You suck your teeth again, about to murmur something about calling him pathetic but the second you set down the razor and reach for the aftershave, you’re being whisked away and quickly so, out of the bathroom.

“Wait, there’s still another step to this-”

“Later.”

── .✦ TEN AM.

a/n; funnily enough, i was a dante girl when i got into dmc, now all i seem to write for is vergil,,, cw; none! maybe one section is a little suggestive, but otherwise this is mainly fluff.

Vergil’s chest is your preferred pillow, sprawled across his lap or between his legs; your preferred place to rest. Said man lets his hand stay burrowed in the tresses cloaking your skull, while his other hand holds a book. You’re forced to read the back cover of a lengthy novella;

‘…secrets of man’s nature,’ 

‘…depths of evil’ ‘…luminous possibilities of love.’ 

…Vergil’s gracious enough to leave a few inches between it and your face. 

At the very least it has a pretty picture of a cottage to go along with it and not a portrait of the author's face. You can’t bear to stare at Blake’s face any longer, so, this is a nice change of pace. 

But you didn’t exactly intend to spend your morning staring at a paperback.

݁ ˖ ♯ 𐔌 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒚 𐦯 ⋆ . 𝜗𝜚 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 : 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭. request! 𓂃 . . ⊹₊⋆ ✉️ ྀི 𝒘𝒄 : 3.1k+

☁︎ ──── the lock became stiff again. you nudge it open, and—as always—no one's there to welcome.

you don't call his name. the lights are off, but the TV flickers. a cheap static staining the walls.

dante's out cold on the couch. one arm slung off the side, fingers barely hooking a can by the brim. his mouth is parted, and his soft snores were beginning to get lost in a dream.

he doesn't stir. not at the noise of the screen. or the creak of your boots dragging mud across the boards. not when the door shuts behind you, sealing the back the night’s luminance.

he looked so peaceful. it would've been sweet if you simply ignored how the world had been trying to gut you alive. clawing at your throat whenever you'd even try and breathe.

“g'night,” you mumbled tiredly, then mockingly to yourself, “oh, how am i, baby? i'm doing okay, kind of you to ask.”

you step in. the apartment colder than you remember leaving it.

your gear settles in the armchair. gods know how the zipper of your bag managed to get caught in one of the loose threads of the cushions. sometimes it felt as if life was testing the last strings of patience you held.

but ignoring so, you took a few steps that led you to the AC. turning up the temperature to something more human. letting the warmth settle before joining your thoughts in the bathroom.

the mirror greets you, cracked through the corner, warped in age.

for someone who saves the world on a regular, dante still lives in it like it's falling apart.

not ‘one for being in debt’ he says. . . ironically contradicting the certain situation he has you both against.

the reflection replicates the impurities the previous fight brought. the hollow eyes and split lip, the ribbon of already-dried blood down your temple. not to mention the pale hues poisoning your features.

going out feels less like a mission and more like a jest at your expense. instead of being paid money and assurance, like any other hunter would love, you're left with scars and fewer bullets in your mag.

y'see, dante forgot to mention that part.

you shake your head, reaching for the rag on the sink. it's damp. maybe from before, or from him. and let the water seep.

but the blood didn't rub off. you scrub, and drag until the cloth turns dark. it's stubborn and doesn't want to let go of your skin. over, and over.

it clings—like the things he says. or the ones he doesn't.

and suddenly. . . it's not just about blood you're trying to rid off.

you should've known.

you should’ve.

he's sparda's son. born of devils' skin and a woman's tragedy. you knew what he was before he ever touched you. you knew the look of their eyes was to warn and lips to deceive.

you think of what he said.

you think of how easily he said it. . .

“you knew what this was. come on—i'm not the settling-down type.”

he made it sound like a means to an end. some one-sided bond. nothing serious. . . it always did make you feel pathetic.

you breathe out and your reflection fogs up like it's trying to spare you the sight.

“this... isn't just casual, is it?” you asked, voice softer than usual.

he didn't even mind to look.

“what's that supposed to mean?”

you frowned, shifting the strawberry delight in your hands slightly. “i mean. . . like, we've been going out and doing this for a while. i thought… y'know.”

“you're reading too much into it.” he casually said, the spoon still in his mouth as it muffled some words, “don't make this into more than it is. i'm sure everyone does it, yeah?”

somewhere between the frustration, you hadn't realized you reopened a wound. with how carelessly you've tried to clean your skin, it was quick to irritate the area, pealing back a layer of deeper crimson.

you want to blame him. you want to call him what he is.

a demon. . . but the word didn't sound fair.

you bite it down, feeling it rot in your throat. but with everything you held back. it was impossible take control of it all.

tears glistened in your eyes, though the voice in your mind persisted you could only blame yourself for this.

. . .he never did promised you safety, nor promise you'd be loved.

and yet, you remember the way he looked at you that first night... held heavy by rain and devil guts, grinning like the world wasn't near its end. you remember his voice, and how it dipped when he called you “hotshot.” like it meant something.

or when his fingers would ever so slightly shift to hold yours. saying “just in case something tried to drag you away.” not that he cared. he made sure to say that. but the tone of his words, or the look in his eyes never helped that cause.

maybe you were stupid to believe that tone meant more than the words that followed it.

you told yourself it was enough. that it didn't hurt. that if you just stayed long enough, maybe he'd figure it out. after all, he's the only one you had. and you his.

maybe you could teach a man made of doubt how to trust. and potentially, how to love. . .

you subconsciously drag the cloth harder across the back of your hands. you feel the sting of another cut breaking open. the warmth of blood lingers longer now, caught in the lines of your palm. your fingers start to shake. whether from the texture or from everything else, it's so hard to tell apart.

you hate how ugly it feels. you hate that it's true. you hate that calling him a demon makes your chest tighten with guilt.

maybe caring makes you naive. or worse—selfish. because you weren't in love with the devil. you were in love with the man who tried not to look flustered when he was complimented. the guy who'd gift you dead flowers because he thought you could simply plant them over again and watch them grow yourself.

could that make you worse of a person?

does that mean you're cruel?

for choosing what part of him to love and which to discard.

for extending your arms to the part of him that told what you wanted to hear, and turn your face from the one that silently begged to be held the same. . .

or does it just make you human?. . . the want for affection. being drawn to solace like any other living thing.

you drop the cloth. and it limps at the bottom of the sink with a sickening sound. the water is gentle. but your skin is raw, proliferating a rose red beneath its surface.

there's a shift. not yours. a creak—barely audible over the faucet's hum.

you don't want to meet the reflection. but the water stills. and your iris finds that familiar shade...

his hand finds the knob to turn off, and he stays there, eyes the color of winter glass, trailing patterns down the porcelain's worn down edges.

you don't greet him. you're still mending your hands. like maybe if you scrubbed harder, the ache in your chest would come off with the grime.

“...why didn't you say you were back?”

his tone tries for casual. like it's just a question.

you stare at the cloth. unsure of what to even say. so you settle with silence.

somehow, that throws him hard. his lips shift like he wants to argue, like he wants to give some dumb quip about how he's unbothered by everything just so he could at least hear your voice. but he doesn't.

“. . . you were gone all day.”

he says it quieter. maybe that's the part he actually meant to lead with.

you nod, but it's faint. your shoulders don't lift much.

he wishes there was some awkwardness, something, anything to distract from the unsettling sensation of your quietude.

he rubs the back of his neck, glancing down like he suddenly noticed how red your hands are.

“…i have some leftover pizza.”

could you even call it an effort? it's more like a life raft tossed out of habit.

it has nothing to do with the conversation. but he always does this. dismissing the main problem like he's afraid of it.

you close your eyes, pressing your palms into the edge of the sink until your knuckles pale.

he notices your distress. “it's pepperoni,” he mumbles. like that's the important part.

you almost smile. almost.

instead, you rinse your hands again. the water runs clear this time, but you still don't look at him.

he watches you for a moment too long, then shifts his weight like he's preparing for something. because he knows after you're done, you're going to walk out that door and not speak to him. . . and he doesn't know if that might be the last time.

“is this about yesterday?” it's barely audible.

you don't reply. and that's an answer enough on its own.

“listen, i didn't mean it like that... what i said. . .” he trails off, like he needs the right words to give peace of mind, even if just temporary.

you move to leave slowly, not because you're hesitant, but because your limbs are aching. and along with the strain of your feelings, you can't bring yourself to listen anymore of it.

he notices, and his voice cracks halfway through.

“i was tired—and i say a lotta crap when i don't wanna think about it.” his voice is low now, almost ashamed.

you brush his shoulder on the way past. he feels it, the empty space left behind.

his hand is out before he even realizes it, reaching for your wrist. fingers clumsily closing over it.

“just—wait a sec.”

“dante.”

“i don't want to argue about—“

“nobody is arguing.”

“then let me say something!”

“i'm tired—“

“you were bein' real. and i got scared, alright?”

you pause, feeling the resignation in his voice, and how the irises of your eyes dilate. because you swear this amount of emotion had never touched his lips.

and he hates it, because to him, he looks pathetic.

instead he just stands there. an awkward stance because he’s just been caught with the truth.

“it's not that i don't care,” he finally says.

and somehow, your heart pieced together his words.

i just don't know how to.

he sucks in a breath, and trusts you enough to let go of your wrist.

then quieter, “i’ve... i can handle demons, i can handle fights, and anything my father's name throws at me, but. . .”

his eyes gesture vaguely at you, it's kind of stupid. but he can't help the words out.

“see, this ain't how i wanted it to go.”

you tilt you head, squinting your eyes. “go. . . how?”

“i had a cooler version in my head...” he huffs out a short breath. glancing away, and dragging a hand down his face. “it's not coming out right.”

but you wait. not trying to fix it.

“look, you already know i’m—” he paused, and you notice the subtle twitch in his eyes as he lowers his voice, “a fuck-up. . .” like he flinches at the thought of even being honest with himself.

he finally looks at you. really looks.

“you said 'i love you’,” he says quietly. “and i wasn't sure how to say it back.”

his fingers twitch again at his sides, curling into a fist before unclenching. “and i don't get why you stay.”

“you could be doin' literally anything else. office job. photography. bartending, get weekends off. but you're out here gettin' blood on your shoes, draggin' me home, payin' for groceries i swore i was gonna cover—” his hand lifts to gesture vaguely toward the hallway where the kitchenette resides, a helpless motion in his behalf.

“—and when i ask you why, you shut me up with kisses, tell me you chose to do this with me and—goddamn it, i swear you're more worried about me skipping meals than the 10-foot demon hound chasin' us around.” he starts to list it off—not out of mockery, but out of disbelief. out of a desperate need to understand.

he pauses.

“and that scares me. because i. . . i really don't know what to do with that.”

the silence afterward is heavier than anything he's mentioned he doesn't fill it. just stands there, heart begging to crawl out of his chest, waiting for you to answer—or walk away.

“it's reckless, and i swear, i swear—i look at you and i forget how to be the guy i was before.”

he swallows hard. trying to press it all back down. everything he's never said, and never let himself say. rising anyway, thick in his throat, crawling up behind his ribs.

“before you,” he says, almost inaudibly, shame tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“i didn't think there was anything else for me. no future, no version of me that wasn't just. . . surviving.”

just then, he finally had the courage to meet your eyes.

“. . . i found you outside that eye-sore of a tower,” he mutters, almost to himself. “firing off rounds from some busted-ass pawn shop pistol.”

you do your best not to smile. he notices.

“world's ending, demons crawling outta hell's crack, and there you were. standing on a pile of rubble.”

his voice shakes with the effort it takes to say it. “and i thought, no way she's sticking around. no way someone like you stays in this mess. 'cause seeing you in itself is a blessing—i mean, damn it.”

“you had no clue what was going on," he goes on, and there's a laugh caught somewhere in his throat. "said you were just looking for a train station. i thought—hell, maybe you'd been hit on the head. or maybe you were just that badass.”

he swallows. you can almost hear it. that tight, dry click of someone dragging emotion through grit.

“you weren't supposed to get dragged into this shit. none of it. blood, demons, cults, hell gates... me. i'm the one who was built for this. born for it, even. i got nothin' to lose here.”

his breath catches a little. he doesn't look at you. “or i didn't have it before.”

“so yeah,” he mutters, quieter now. “i'm selfish. and scared. and real goddamn bad at this.”

“but if this thing between us is the last good thing i ever get... i'm not gonna be the reason it gets ruined.”

“. . . i didn't follow you,” you murmur. “you weren't leading somewhere.”

he blinks. not quite understanding.

“you didn't drag me into anything...” you add.

your voice softens an orphic sentence.

“i wanted to be here. and you're not nothing. not to me.”

he finally looks up at you. really looks.

like he's been surviving of off the idea that you'd never say those words. that he didn't deserve them.

and maybe that's what breaks him.

his hand trembles at his side. not enough to see, but you can feel it.

“…shit,” he breathes, half a laugh and not at all amused. “you've never heard me talk this much, huh?”

you shake your head, a slow blink. “i mean... you talk a lot. but not usually things that, well, you actually have to think through.”

that gets a soft scoff out of him. his smile—worn and faint, barely reaches the line of his lips.

and you watch it fall again, just as gently.

“i just want you to be safe,” he mutters, voice low and hoarse. “and if that means havin' you away from me... then maybe that's what i should've done.”

“but i didn't. and i'm not gonna lie and say i'd do it different, 'cause i wouldn't.”

he reached for the cloth, cleaning through and rinsing off whatever blood there was left on your hands, before placing it back down. “i tried, but, guess i only ended up making things worse.”

you blink through the selcouth feeling in your chest. the way his voice cracks when he acknowledges it.

“. . . so, what are we?”

he looks up again. like you offered him mercy. and that makes him laugh, soft and disbelieving.

“anything you want me to be.”

your lips curl into the softest of smiles. then tilt your head.

he blinks, rolling his eyes. “i'm bein' serious.”

“my over-leveraged moocher?”

“babe,” he warns, and you hear the smile threatening to pair his mouth.

you squint at him like you're thinking. “a guy that actually speaks out about how he's feeling instead of leaving me out in the open thinking he never cared about me?”

his jaw drops, and he quickly gains composure, running a hand through his hair.

“see, i thought for sure you'd bail out by now.”

“how come?”

“someone like you... sticking around in my kind of mess this long?” he scoffs. “yeah, right.”

you let the silence settle again, lighter this time. not raw as before.

then quietly follow-up.

“...it's because i'm cooler, isn't it?”

and you expect him to talk back. to scoff, to playfully deflect like he always does. you even tilt your head, waiting. but he doesn't.

his eyes linger on your face—your tired but amused expression, the tiny crease forming by your nose when you try not to smile.

he exhales, low. “we're on the same level,” he mutters, and you can already hear the eye-roll in his tone.

he finally smiles, faint, boyish in that half-awkward, sheepish way of his. like he can't believe he just admitted that.

and before you can brace it, he leans in, grabbing the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against him.

you gasp, interrupted by a laugh. a real, surprised breathless bubble of sweetest undoing. “what are you doing—“

“bein' romantic,” he deadpans, but you can feel the grin against your jaw. “thought you wanted an emotionally-driven guy.”

his arms hold you firm, his hands warm through the fabric of your clothes.

you're laughing too much to argue. and he kisses you before you can even get a word out.

slow and tentative. only to break messy.

he pulls back just enough to whisper it against your lips, “you are cooler, by the way.” like it doesn't need to be louder than this.

and it's stupid, and sweet, and so unmistakably him, but it lands so softly.

𓂃 . hi annon and everyone <3

i hope you see this, for some reason it's not letting me reply to your inbox request so that sucks. . .

i'm going to be so honest i'm a bit of a wuss so there's fluff at the end. . . and it might be ooc but there’s not a lot of material to base this off of.

but tysm for the request! feel free to give me as many ideas or corrections as needed—sorry if this is kind of short... i didn't want for it to be obnoxiously long or boring.

also if you couldn't tell i got a bit lazy at the end, i’m so super sorry, i'll update it as soon as i can! i just wanted to post something for the meanwhile. . .

anyway, i hope this was suitable for your enjoyment. have a blessed day!

© mylovingkiss. 2025 | feel free to request! but please don't steal, translate, or modify any of my works! thank you ༝༚༝༚

let’s finally get into this one!! i’ve been waiting to be able to get this one through 🥹 walk with me anon!!

a/n: this a continuation to this blurb (win your heart) i recommend reading that first! f! reader

pt. 3

the four of you are chasing arius in an effort to get one of the arcana from him, and the trip there, well… hasn’t been going so well.

it was a mess to get to this moment, after the brothers had a brawl inside of darkcom before getting to arius.

dante and vergil have been at each other’s throats most of the time while you and lady are attempting to leash them both, at least until after this was done.

turns out, you’re on a ticking time bomb to grab one before chaos incarnate is released! isn’t that great?

well, you better get to saving the world before both earth and hell get turned into argosax’s playground.

you all come to a large, barricaded gate with a passcode. but thanks to lady, it doesn’t take long for her to blow the keypad and force the door open.

“let’s go,” lady says, her tone leaving no room for any defiance. you follow next to her while the brothers trail behind the two of you.

the inside is a ruin of the structure, statues, pottery, treasure, and many other things. something shiny catches your eye, causing you to divert your path to what you saw.

to your luck unfortunately, dante takes this as the perfect chance to get on top of his older brother. he doesn’t know how he could ever get vergil to say on earth with him after he’s spent most of his life in makai.

but oh, you. his one weakness. no matter how good an mvp is at a game, there’s always an ace to get straight to checkmate.

and you were the ace to get to vergil’s heart.

dante leans into vergil’s ear, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“sooo, vergil. y/n,” dante grins. “been a while, huh? she’s definitely grown, i would say.”

“don’t try to divert me from what we’re looking for.” vergil hisses, but his eyes begin to glimmer with a weird vulnerability.

“come on, man! forget about me for a second. it’s been years since she’s seen you. years since you’ve seen her.” dante throws his hands in the air, gesturing towards you with his head, and vergil’s eyes follow the movement.

you’re crouched over some rubble, finger brushing against a gold bracelet that has the argosax symbol in the inside. cute, but unfortunate that it belongs to a murderous god.

something in vergil’s posture relaxes for a moment longer than he would’ve allowed it to.

as annoying as his brother was, he couldn’t deny that it has been quite some time— maybe even a little too long.

“she’s single too if that helps at all.” dante wiggles his eyebrows, and he’s quick to dodge a swing aimed to the side of his head.

“shut up.”

“you know you were wondering.”

“i was not!” vergil raises his voice, much to their dismay. dante quickly covers his mouth and the two immediately straighten up when your head snaps in their direction.

“you two good?” you ask, tone full of suspicion.

“absolutely! just brothers bonding,” dante answers immediately, his grin so wide it looks guilt and like it hurts, while vergil glares at him.

“hmm.” you simply hum, going back to admiring the little trinkets in your corner.

dante waits a moment before releasing a sigh of relief, moving his hand from vergil’s mouth.

“okay, but seriously, man.” dante continues, his eyes turning serious.

“this has make you feel some kind of way. especially after you’ve been presumed dead all this time. i know it makes y/n feel some way. and we both know you had a soft spot for her as kids.”

vergil continues glaring daggers into dante’s soul, as if he’s contemplating to use devil trigger and blow his brother to smithereens.

but he makes no move to deny anything he’s saying. “what would you know?” vergil murmurs after a minute.

“that you still feel like this because you haven’t pinned me to the wall with my own sword yet. so, go talk to her.”

dante smiles wickedly and shoves vergil in your direction, earning a groan from the elder brother.

a tall, fit shadow looms over you, to which you turn your head to identify who it is. maybe it’s d—

oh, no, it’s not.

“vergil,” you breathe his name, a small smile gracing your lips. he’s not smiling or saying anything, just staring at you with a blank expression.

he suddenly crouches down next to you, glancing to the trinkets you’re also admiring. “what’s all this?” he asks under his breath.

“‘dunno. a bunch of jewlery and things, but they all have argosax’s symbol on it.” you reply, holding up the necklace you were looking at so he could see it.

“a waste, honestly. they’re pretty too.” you huff, blowing your cheeks out slightly.

vergil’s eyes flicker between you and the piece of jewlery a couple of times before he slowly reaches out towards the necklace.

your eyes lock for a minute, and his are asking to see the piece of jewlery. you oblige, and your hands graze for a split second that has your heart skipping multiple beats.

his hand come to the argosax pendant, grasping it and crushing it with his bare fist. the pendant falls as dust to the ground, and you can only watch in awe.

vergil’s hand reaches into a small pocket, pulling out a gentle rock with a hole drilled through it, like a normal pendant.

it’s your favorite color, too.

he gently attaches it to the chain of the necklace, watching it dangle as if it were brand new. vergil turns his body to face you, swallowing lightly before speaking.

“let me.” his voice returns gravelly, a glint of something by unnamed in his eyes.

you turn slowly to have your back facing him, and warm hands come around your neck, settling and clasping the pendant around your frame.

his hands slowly retreat from you, and a hand comes to cradle the new necklace in your hand. “vergil, this is beautiful.”

you turn your head and flash a bright smile, “thank you.”

he blinks once before glancing away and is quick to stand up. “don’t mention it.”

and dante and lady who’s joined not long after, watching the whole mess go down, have smiles on their faces.

phase one complete, you really were the ace after all.

WOOOO havent written these in a while, and with this new hyperfixation i HAD to come crawling back, please enjoy these scenarios of out beloved DMC men/woman

Characters: Dante, vergil, lady, trish and nero (DMC5)

word count: 1036

warnings: none! just fluffff! maybe a but suggestive in trish's part??

notes: i really reaallly wanted to add Kyrie but i didnt have the energy so sorry Kyrie simps!

DANTE

sparda’s are touch starved by default

He’s a biggg fan of physical touch, specifically on lazy days. A slow weekend with you two lying in bed until 1PM? The idea is enough to melt a man. If you didn't force him off the bed, that slob would stay all day on top of you

Dante does likes hand holding, but he prefers you grab onto his arm, he feels a lot stronger and he’ll use any excuse to show off his gains

Oh godddd he loves picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. No, your weight and height do not matter, you're like a feather to him

his favorite cuddling positions are spooning (hes the big spoon) and laying on top of you, although that one is less frequent since you can barely breath with how heavy he is 

Hair touching? god yes, he love to see you playing with his hair, rubbing his scalp and even tying his hair into a low ponytail. However, that hair is canonically GREASY, so you started to wash his hair every few days, he was hesitant at first but now the having you gently rub shampoo through his hair is one of the most satisfying things for him, especially after coming home covered in demon gore 

VERGIL

ohh…this is uhm..tricky

ok so at first..he wouldn't be too open about physical touch, not that he’d flat out reject you, just that he'd flinch away when you did something as simple as touching his hand

That all changed over time though, i mean you're still the one who always initiates the touching, and he sometimes pulls away if enough time has passed, but he's trying his best here

like i said previously, all sparda’s are touch starved, and he, as the oldest, has the worst case of this

He's been alone for so so long, make sure to give him all the hugs he missed out on!

Let's talk cuddle positions; he likes it when you're turned towards him, burying your face in his chest as he scoops you up in his arms, he wants to feel protective, keep you safe (honestly i'm like 80% sure he sleeps with the yamato so that’ll be awkward ) 

Does NOT like pda, he doesn't even enjoy public spaces so he's most comfortable to show vulnerability when he's laying in bed with you or while having you on his lap as he reads

He likes forehead kisses (which is good cuz he got a big ahh forehead lmao), they make him a bit bashful, but he really does like them

Lay your head on his shoulder while hes cleaning the yamato and watch him freeze up, although after a few seconds he’ll exhale and pull you closer silently

(i'm trying my best to not overdo it with the shyness but i do feel like he would be really bashful about touch)

LADY

She definitely likes being close to you, but i also don't see her as incredibly cuddly either. However she wants you near her after a long ass day, wether its you hugging her or just being in the room with her

I can see her as someone who always has her arm around her partners shoulder, just so everyone knows you're taken and you're hers (looking at you, dante) 

she also likes hand holding, especially at night time while you two are sleeping, her grip gets a bit tight sometimes tho

 In terms of cuddling, i feel like shes quite a switch between holding you and being held, she can enjoy being the little but loves being the bigger spoon too~

she likes picking you up and putting you over her shoulder like her Kalina Ann, don't underestimate her, the girl is strong

give her a butterfly kiss and watch her turn as red as demon blood~

(i take it back, all these character are touch starved even if they're not a sparda, PLEASE give them love they are traumatized)

TRISH

tbh this one was hard to write

Ok number one, hand kisses. Need i say more? receiving them or giving them, it doesn't matter, she loves them and they never fail to make her smile

loves styling your hair (nails if you don't have hair), also loves testing her makeup on you to check if it looks good (in reality she just wants to touch your pretty face). she also enjoys it when you style her hair too

ok so with cuddles i feel like she does most of the holding. She just enjoys having you feel warm in her embrace 

(between you and me i think she cuddles naked)

Loves playing with your ears, she strokes your earlobe softly and giggles as it reddens in color, how adorable she finds you~

Likes putting on lipstick and COVERING you in kiss marks, you can also do the same, i feel like she would love sharing her lipstick with you

NERO

Ahem, sparda equals…touch starved

but in all seriousness he LOVES physical affection

He enjoys its when you grab onto his arm (the good one please) and i feel like he also loves to show you off in public by side hugging you as you walk

despite his sometimes hot headed nature, he's very very soft spoken with you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you two cuddle

speaking of cuddles, he insists on being the big spoon most nights, but you know he secretly doesn't mind having you hold him every once in a while

lives having his head rubbed, which isn't a problem cause i imaging his hair (dmc 5) to be very soft yet rough to the touch

if you two are in the middle of cuddling, theres nothing thats gonna get in the way of that, no letting you go until he falls asleep or until you two have a mission, dont leave his arms just yet, stay with him (unless you have to go to the bathroom or need a glass of water, then by all means, go and come back as soon as possible, but he’ll be waiting for you with his arms crossed)

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: You’re an underqualified, overworked nobody who got blackmailed into seducing the legendary demon hunter Dante Sparda. Problem is—you forgot what he looks like. Now you’re sitting in a bar, tipsy, accidentally spilling your entire top-secret mission to a mysterious (and annoyingly hot) stranger... who may or may not be the guy you’re supposed to trap. Spoiler: He is. And he’s loving every second of it.

Warnings: reader is super clumsy and absent-minded in this lol, lot of fluff + fun, this is a comfort fic for all the trauma I normally dump on y'all hehe, drunk reader ENJOY

I watched it too, I fully expected Dante and Virgil to be hot but I gotta say Lady took me by surprise, I love her so much.

Pairing: Dante, Mary "Lady" Arkham, Virgil x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, first relationship, co-workers, protectiveness, demon hunting, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I hope to Sparda that there's a season 2 because I need to see more Virgil for sure, and definitely more Danlady shipping fuel.

DANTE

Flirts very shamessly and constantly once you get into a relationship with him. Will absolutely use any chance to show off in front of you, gotta get all those looks from you, looks that sent a shiver down his spine. On slower days he enjoys playing video games with you or cuddling on the couch and doing nothing, enjoying some peace and quiet. Has had quick and fleeting relationships before but never a long-term one so sometimes he gets nervous about it. But he doesn't want you to notice so he covers it up by flirting even harder.

LADY

Will try to hide your relationship at first, especially at work. There are many ways it could backfire and get you both in trouble, or become a weakness for others to exploit. But what's even more of a reason is that she wants to have you and your attention all to herself for as long as possible. Banter gets more flirty when you're on demon hunting missions and it's just the two of you. She wakes up earlier so the two of you can have some alone time to kiss and flirt while you get ready for work and only then be more professional.

VIRGIL

AN- I love Dante, and this fixation on DMC better not go any time soon, as I have ideas.

TW: Sexual Assault