#what...

Vergil was many things.

Silent. Cold. Sharp as Yamato’s edge.

But patient? Only with you.

At first, he didn’t understand why you needed to touch him so much. Always reaching for his hand, curling into his side, pressing your forehead to his back when he stood still for more than a minute. It baffled him.

"Must you do this every time I stand still?" he muttered one evening, eyes never leaving the book he held.

You only hummed from where your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, cheek squished against his shoulder blade. “You’re warm. And you vanish when I blink, so this is insurance.”

That made him pause.

His breath hitched. Slight, imperceptible. But you felt it.

You always did.

“…I do not vanish.”

“You do,” you mumbled. “You leave without a word. Like I’m something you can just put down and walk away from.”

He turned slowly, gently prying you off. You flinched, expecting him to scold you—but instead he cradled your face with gloved hands, looking down at you as if you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“You are…persistent,” he said. “Clingy. Emotional.”

“…You hate it?”

“I didn’t say that.” His thumb brushed your cheek. “But it is difficult for me.”

You bit your lip. “Should I stop?”

“No.” His voice was firmer now. “I do not wish for you to change. I merely… struggle to meet you where you are.”

You blinked. “That’s okay. I can meet you halfway.”

He almost smiled—almost. But instead, he leaned in, forehead against yours.

“You’ve made a mess of me,” he murmured. “And I find I don’t mind being unraveled. Not by you.”

---

From that day on, he didn’t flinch when your hand found his. Didn’t sigh when you leaned against him. Sometimes—sometimes—he even initiated the closeness first.

And when you woke one night from a nightmare, reaching for him in the dark, he was already there.

Yamato at his side.

His other arm around you.

“I won’t vanish,” he whispered. “Not from you.”

Clingy! Overworked Reader x Vergil Sparda

Vergil didn’t yell often.

But tonight, the silence was heavier than rage.

You limped through the door of the manor, soaked in blood—not all of it yours—but the angry gash across your side spoke loud enough.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, Yamato sheathed, arms crossed, eyes like steel.

"You're late," he said quietly.

“I finished the job.” You winced, trying to smile as you kicked off your shoes. “Figured I'd be back before you even noticed.”

"I noticed the moment you collapsed the second time this week."

You flinched. "I'm not—"

"You are." His voice rose, not loud, but sharp. "You're clinging to me like a lifeline and burning yourself out just to stay useful. Do you think I need you bleeding out to prove your worth to me?"

Silence.

You looked down at your shaking hands. “…I didn’t want you to regret having me around.”

That hit him harder than Yamato ever could.

In a flash of movement, he crossed the room. One arm caught you as you stumbled forward; the other pressed you tight against him. You whimpered from the pain, but didn’t let go.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, voice now hoarse with something too close to guilt. “I do not keep you near because you’re strong.”

“Then why?”

He leaned closer, lips brushing your temple. “Because when you're near, I remember I’m not alone. So stop trying to die proving you belong.”

He carried you to the couch—bridal style, not that he'd ever admit it—and bandaged you himself in silence.

Later, when you were half-asleep in his lap, he muttered, “Cling all you want. Just don’t disappear on me first.”

❖ 2. ❝You’re Mine. That’s Final.❞

Vergil Sparda x Jealous! Clingy reader

You didn’t usually get jealous.

But watching her smile at Vergil—some demon woman in a silk dress, trailing her hand along his arm like she knew him—something inside you snapped.

You crossed the room with polite venom, forcing a smile. “Hi, love,” you said sweetly, hugging him from behind with your chin pressed to his shoulder.

Vergil raised a brow but didn’t pull away. “You’re early.”

“You were smiling at her.”

“I was not smiling.”

“She touched you.”

“I didn’t permit it.”

You didn’t care. You shot the woman a glare sharp enough to peel skin. She flinched and backed off.

When you turned back to Vergil, your face crumpled. “I know I’m clingy, but I hate feeling replaced.”

Vergil sighed, long and slow, before pulling you by the wrist and walking the both of you away from the crowd.

Into the shadows.

Behind a wall.

He pinned you there—not violently, just firmly.

His voice was low. Dangerous. “You are not replaceable.”

You blinked, breath caught.

“Do you know what you are?” he asked, fingers curling against your jaw. “You are my only softness. My only home. My only—” His lips brushed yours—barely a kiss, more like a confession. “You are mine.”

You whimpered, tears stinging. “Then don’t be so cold to me in front of others…”

“I cannot be anything else in public,” he murmured. “But I burn for you in private. And I will remind you as many times as it takes.”

He kissed you then—possessive, fierce, like he needed to brand your soul.

And when you whispered, “I’m still jealous,” he smiled.

For real this time.

“Then stay close. Let them see who I truly belong to.”

Them: