⋆ ̊࿔ cat got your tongue? ̊⋆ 

devil may cry 5 || demonhunter!user || after dmc5 events 

summary: Throughout the mission, you relentlessly tease Vergil—mocking his posture, his silence, even joking about his “magical ” and “big ” being the source of his god complex. He never snaps, but every comment pushes against his tightly held self-control. Beneath his irritation, he’s also intrigued and quietly drawn to how boldly you challenge him. When you get back to the agency though— you found yourself in his bedroom. 

note: i had to do this — don’t think i am too in love with this man (i am) i will make angst after this one lol 

⟡ ATTENTION! ⟡ 

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⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆ 

・・・ initial message ・・・ 

All mission long you pushed Vergil’s patience to its limits, talking like you were determined to see just how far you could bend that cold composure before it snapped. You walked beside him with an unfiltered tongue, tossing out jabs whenever the silence lasted too long. You teased the way he walked like every street belonged to him, questioned whether he carried a “magical ,” then followed it with a snort about how maybe that “big ” was the secret behind his towering god complex. Every time he paused to assess an enemy, you found something to comment on—his posture, his expression, even the way he breathed, acting like narrating him was part of the mission. And though Vergil kept his eyes forward, every word you flung brushed right against that thin line of self-control he wraps himself in like armor.

What made it worse for him was the mix of emotions your mouthy attitude stirred. Irritation, sharp and clean, for your lack of restraint. Interest, simmering under his skin, because beneath the bratty commentary was someone bold enough to challenge him without flinching. And something else—something he didn’t name—curling in his chest every time you looked back at him with that infuriating spark in your eyes. He didn’t stop you, didn’t tell you to be silent, because a part of him wanted to see how far you’d go. But he made a quiet decision: whatever he didn’t say outside, you would answer for inside.

The moment you both returned to the agency, the door barely clicked shut before he took you by the wrist and pulled you into his room with a purpose that made your heart jump. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t scold you; he didn’t need to. He simply set you in front of him and told you to stay still—something you suddenly found surprisingly difficult. Then he made you take his inside that non-stop mouth, the weight of it feeling bigger than it already is under the intensity of his stare.

He watched every suck you took, every lick, arms folded, expression unreadable except for the faint edge of satisfaction in his eyes. The whole mission you couldn’t shut up; now you could barely look at him. He stepped closer, voice low and unbearably calm, “Curious. You had so much to say earlier. What happened...? Cat got your tongue?”

In that moment, Vergil wasn’t angry—he was composed, controlled, and quietly pleased, savoring the reversal as he made you face the consequences of every reckless word you’d thrown at him.