#muse writes

I know a lot of you out there seem to write Vergil as this very serious hardcore dom…but I just don’t see it. This is the man who needs someone to be the focus of his loyalty, his devotion.

Vergil doesn’t care so much about whether he’s top or bottom—our boy’s a switch if you ask me—he just wants to do whatever pleases you most. Service top? Sure. Service bottom? He’s down. But if you really push him to tell you what he wants, he’ll eventually admit he just wants to worship you.

Vergil is the kind of partner who refuses to cum before you do. He takes it as a point of pride, actually, if he can get you to orgasm twice for every one of his. And yes, no matter what equipment you have, he can and will take it in his mouth as many times as you’ll let him. Vergil strikes me as demisexual—his devotion is slow to build, but absolutely all-consuming when it comes to fruition.

There are definitely some things he desires that are influenced by a childhood in Makai, though. He’ll take some time to admit this, but he’d love you to bite him. Especially if you leave marks. He wants everyone to know you’ve claimed him, and while he won’t explain, if anyone asks about the marks on his neck he’ll just smirk and walk away.

And if you bite his throat while you’re having sex? Doesn’t matter how long or short you’ve been going at it, he will cum on the spot. It’s like a button, honestly.

This goes without saying I think, but he wants to see you. You’re his focus, his center, his North Star. He always wants to be able to see you—especially while you’re fucking him. Missionary’s good, sure, but there’s something primal about when you put him in a mating press. It makes him desperate, and about three times more likely to cry. It’s a release of all the tensions he’s been carrying.

Speaking of which, this man needs praise. He won’t tell you that, naturally, but if the person who’s like a god to him tells him he’s sweet, he’s perfect, he’s good—he will absolutely start crying. Someone who thinks he’s enough, that he’s good, after everything he’s been through? It’s what he needs to hear.

Vergil, surprisingly, isn’t as opposed to PDA as you might think. He doesn’t want it prolonged, he has things to do, but he’s very much on board if you decide you want to kiss him in public. Particularly if you’re letting someone know that he’s yours. He loves that reminder that his devotion is reciprocated. He doesn’t doubt your loyalty or get jealous, but he loves to know that you still want him just as bad as he wants you.

He’s not really a fan of games in the bedroom. To him, this is serious business, because it involves you, and you are what matters most to him. He wants it to be very clear that his love and loyalty is real, and not a joke or game.

Vergil is usually not overly loud in bed—more choked gasps than full moans, and not long ones—but the easiest way to get him to really moan under you is to give him his own medicine. Worship him the way he worships you, and this man is gone.

Vergil’s theatric entrances carry over to sex, too. He very much wants to dress up for you. And he’ll cater to what you like in this department too, but he does have a personal favorite kind of costume, if you can get him to admit it. Draping, semi-transparent fabrics that give him a dramatic, ethereal look that suits him perfectly, but also hides very little from your gaze. Blues and teals and sometimes greens are near his heart, but you can sometimes talk him into purple or white.

And when he learns about body chains? You can bet you’re coming home to find at least three sets of them, with different themes he can pair with his silks. Once you’ve won his devotion, this man won’t skimp on ways to make himself look deliciously good for you.

Vergil has an artistic streak, which means he’ll hate the idea of things he considers trite or ugly in bed—handcuffs, for instance. That said, if you introduce him to shibari, or aerial silks, he will be all over that. He wants to feel beautiful, and if you encourage that, he’ll just melt.

He has a thing for shibari, honestly. Knowing that he could break out, but chooses not to out of the depth of his devotion to you? That gets him every time. It’s a test of his loyalty, and he likes that, because he knows he’ll win.

You have to watch him, though, because this is a man who will try not to use his safeword, at least in the beginning. He wants to please you so bad, he thinks it’s worth pushing himself. When you take his face in your hands and tell him that you want him to be your equal, not your servant, that safewords only work if you use them, he will probably cry a little. After that, he gets it. He wants to be good so desperately.

Vergil has mixed opinions about toys. Crops etc. are a hard no—they remind him too much of certain memories—and so is anything else for pain or punishment. He wants to be good. But things that exacerbate his pleasure, or better yet, yours? Those he loves. No blindfolds, he wants to see you, but he has no objection to certain gags—they make it harder for him to keep in every little noise, which you love.

You better believe his stamina is off the charts. And for a half-Makaian, refractory periods aren’t really a thing. Vergil can—and will, if you spoil him enough—cum ten times in one night. He’ll worry that you aren’t pleasured enough, but when he sees how very, very untrue that is, he’ll give in and let you ruin him. Every once in a while.

Vergil gasps out under you, his muscles trembling as he strains not to break the ropes that hold him spread-eagled on the bed. You’ve decided to tie him for the night. It’s your birthday, and he’s already eaten you out twice, before you could even get him to one orgasm.

You just wanted to spoil him, and he started by spoiling you.

You start at his throat. Butterfly kisses, flirting with the idea of more. He twitches, and you know he’s holding in a whine. So you give him what he wants, and close your teeth around his throat.

That punches a glorious moan out of him, as his chest heaves desperately as his orgasm hits him hard. His cock, pinned between your stomach and his, spurts white cum almost to his own mouth.

Grinning, you sit back on him, staring down at Vergil’s face. His eyes are less focused, the gaze softer and fuzzier, but still fixed on you. Always fixed on you.

Your fingers trail over the spine of a book as you read the cover, contemplating over taking it. "Hey Ren, what do you think about this one?" The pink haired man turns to you, a curious expression on his face. You and him had recently gotten on a romance kick, tracking down any and all novels you could find. Your job at the library made this easier for the both of you.

He hums lightly, "Looks good to me." And you ppace the book into the basket sitting on the floor. It was late, and the little bookstore was closed. But after promising Elanor you would close up, you and Ren descided to do a little late night searching. He watches you intently search through the shelves, unable to keep his eyes of you.

'So cute...' He smiles. You turn to him and giggle, "What are you looking at?" His face flushes at being caught. "N-Nothin'" You reach up and put a hand to his face, smiling up at him. He returns it and puts his hand overtop of yours, turning his head to give your palm a light kiss.

You internally squeal.

"You're so cute, you know that?" His eyes widen as he stares down at you, his heart beginning to race. "Hah... Haaah~ Angel..." He mumbles, hearts forming in his eyes. "Ren? Are you alright?" He keens, backin you up and pinning you against the bookshelf. "I need you Angel... I need you right now..."

Your eyes widen and you look around. Nobody was in the library, it was closed after all, but still... In a public space? He smiles mischievously, his hands sliding from your waist to your hips. He leans in to kiss you slowly and deeply, his arms wrapping around you to pull you flush against him. "A-Angel... I need you so bad, please."

You give in and smile, giving him a small nod. He hums softly, his hands slowly sliding down to your thighs as he lifts you up suddenly. You let out a surprised yelp as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing you against the bookshelf. "I've been dying to do this all day..."

"R-Ren," You stutter, suddenly feeling hot and bothered at the closeness. He smirks against your lips, pressing a soft kiss before pulling back slightly. His voice is low and husky as he speaks. "Shh... nobody's here... besides..." He grinds his hips gently against yours to emphasize his point. "...I can be quick..."

"Okay, just be gentle." A satisfied smirk spreads across his face as he quickly unbuttons your pants and pushes them down along with your underwear. He doesn't waste any time, freeing himself and pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. "Good girl..." He whispers before pushing inside suddenly. "Mmmph..." He groans as he pushes through your folds, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head

You gasp lightly and grip the bookshelf, your eyes closing at his girth. He holds still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size before he starts moving his hips slowly. His hands grip your thighs tightly as he starts to fuck you gently against the bookshelf. His mouth finds your neck, sucking and kissing gently to muffle any sounds. "Shh... quiet..."

"R-Ren~" You whisper his name, moaning lightly against him and gripping his soft sweater. He swallows your moans with his mouth, kissing you deeply as he starts moving faster. The bookshelf rattles softly with his movements, but thankfully the library is empty. His hands roam over your body possessively as he pinnes you against the shelf. "Mine... mine..."

"H-Hah, Ren~" He can feel you getting closer, your body tensing around him. He reaches up to pinch and roll your nipples with his fingers, wanting to make this quick but intense for both of you. "Angel... You feel so good, ugh~ you're... you're gonna make me cum already." He grinds against you harder, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. "Come f'me..."

Your thighs tense and quiver around him, throwing your head back and moaning loudly. He covers your mouth with his hand as he feels you clench around him, your orgasm triggering his own release. He holds you against the shelf, fucking you through your orgasms as he comes inside you quietly. His hand muffles any further sounds as he fills you up, marking his territory.

"F-Fuck Angel. Look at you..." You pant and whimper slightly against the bookshelf, whining at him still thrusting softly "R-Ren... Can't..."

“Leon Scott Kennedy.” Ashley’s voice snapped out with that particular air of command which belonged to people like Chris Redfield and others who knew exactly who they were and expected to be obeyed. Leon stopped in his tracks on the pure instinct of a trained soldier. Ashley’s eyes burned into him, and he was startled to see the tears shining there—a true sign she was angry. He had always found her habit of crying when she was mad cute, but now he felt his heart sinking, because this time, he had caused those tears.

“If you can give me a good reason not to accept my offer,” Ashley continued, once she was sure she had his full attention, “then I’ll let you walk away. But if you say anything like you’re protecting me, or you don’t want to cause me pain, or you don’t want to drag me into the dirt with you—then tough luck. I made that decision for myself long ago.” She took a step toward him, the hardness in her voice gentling. “Do you think I would have dated you for years if I cared about any of that?”

Leon clenched his hands at his side. “Ashley, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. Especially not if it was my fault.”

Ashley reached out to grip his hand. “You’re being selfish, Leon Kennedy. As though I could stand it if you died? Or were infected? Or disappeared? But I love you, Leon, more than I fear any of that.”

His heart crumbled. She was braver than him. He’d known that since the moment he opened the door into her prison in Spain. “But, Ashley, I…” But all of his reasons—his job, his drinking, his past, his tendency to attract secrets like a magnet—fell flat in the face of her love for him. She seemed to recognize the moment the realization broke him, and blinked the angry tears away. Her smile dawned as bright as sunlight, and it was Leon’s turn to blink, this time in sheer shock at such happiness directed at him, and only him.

“So, Leon S. Kennedy,” Ashley said, drawing him closer, “will you—please—marry me?”

"Um, Mr. Hero Angel sir? Excuse me? May I come in? I'd knock but, ah, your halo is right there on the door. I'm afraid I'd rather not be horribly burned?"

Link rolled his eyes. This demon. Link never even locked the doors anymore. He was being polite by asking to come in. But he was a demon! He didn't have to be polite! Besides, Link hadn't worn his halo in years, preferring to keep it as a door knocker. The remaining angelic power scared people, which meant he could reduce the number of visitors knocking at his door asking for blessings.

Link opened the door, fixing Ravio with a critical look. "I see you've brought a friend today."

Sheerow stared unblinking back at the angel. Ravio had taken him on as a pet after the little bird made a nest on his windowsill and refused to leave.

"Ah, well. You see, I needed to bring him along. I ask for a favor. Just a tiny one!"

Link groaned, swinging the door wide and letting the demon in. If it had been a human, he would have shut the door in their face, but Ravio was.... special. They'd been in each other's orbit since creation. Link was supposed to give blessings, Ravio was supposed to place curses. For a while, they did their jobs, occasionally getting in each other's way. Link would break some curses, Ravio would steal away some blessings.

Eventually, they made an agreement to stop interfering entirely. Link was tired of handing out blessings while his Bosses were thanked, and Ravio didn't much like giving curses. Made one a bit lonely when everyone they met encountered a horrible fate. If anyone asked, they were doing the same work they'd always done, since their output was about the same.

"You want tea?" Link walked to the kitchen to start the kettle.

"Ah, it's not holy water if _you_ boil it, right?" Ravio shuffled nervously, black wings fluttering.

"No. If all I had to do to bless something was touch it, I wouldn't hate blessing so much. Besides, it's not like when you boil pasta, the spaghetti becomes demonic." Link rolled his eyes at the thought. Ravio was so nervous about cavorting with an Angel. Link knew their superiors didn't care. As long as the status quo was maintained, a little rule breaking wasn't noted by either side.

"It's not like I'm cooking for anyone else, I wouldn't know," Ravio protested.

Link dropped the black tea bags into the kettle and left it to set as he flopped into his favorite armchair. "Alright, demon. What's the favor?"

"Could you perform a blessing for me?"

Link blinked. Was he being pranked? "Excuse me?"

"It's just, I've grown fond of this little guy," Ravio scooped Sheerow into his palm, holding the bird up with one hand and covering him with the other, "And I read that birds only live 30 years, and Sheerow was an adult when I found him! If you could bless him with longevity, I would be so grateful!" Ravio bit his lip, buck teeth showing as his nose twitched.

"You do realize if your people downstairs heard that question, they would smite you?"

Ravio blushed. "Look, if it's a no, we can pretend this conversation never happened. I just thought, since we already had a deal and all, you might help me out? I do promise to pay you back! Uh, if this conversation happened. Did it happen?" Ravio's primary feathers twitched and puffed.

Link rolled his eyes. "Pay me back? What, can you curse the mealworms rotting my apples?"

"Done! They'll be cursed with an affliction so they never desire to eat again! Starvation from apathy. Lots of suffering, I promise!"

Link stared. Was he serious? He had meant it as a joke, but Ravio's face was fully earnest. He... really wanted this. Wanted to get a blessing and fully willing to pay back in a way only he could.

"Well. alright. I'll bless your bird. After all, I can't just leave him in the hands of a demon unarmed, can I? If he lives long, maybe he can tempt you into good."

"Thank you so much! I'll make sure the curse lingers, no pest will ever touch your apples without suffering again!"

“tell me,” Epic sits next to me on the steps of his farm house and hands me a plate filled with cookies. It takes me a second but a small smile rises on my lips when I realize they are chocolate chip. The plate is warm to the touch, a welcomed feeling, far more welcoming to the slight chill that lapped against my face a few moments ago. 

“why’d you come all the way up here? aren’t you from wayyyy down south?” I nod as I pick up one of the soft cookies, its leftover warmth spreading to my fingers. “Yeah, I came up to see family.” I let out a small laugh/sigh, allowing my shoulders to drop slightly. “Some time after, I got cabin fever, so they sent me here, said you were a close friend so I wouldn’t have to worry.” 

He gave a nod and nodded in response. For a few minutes, me and him sit side by side, simply choosing to the wind brush up against the two you. Only after a while, I remember that I am still holding on to one of the cookies, so to not let it go to waste—or the ants below, I take a bite. A soft gasp leaves my mouth as the sweetness of it spreads across my tongue.   

“Did,” I swallow so that I don’t speak with my mouth full. “Did you make these?” 

@starkerfestivals Summer Bingo: James Rhodes