Torn Asunder
folder
+A through F › Devil May Cry
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,238
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+A through F › Devil May Cry
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,238
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Devil May Cry game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Torn Asunder
Torn Asunder I do not own DMC. It is Capcom's.
AN: Dedicated to Kitty, who is sick of AFF’s selection of sexy vignettes and wanted more. THIS HAS NO SEX, only pointless violence and gore. Enjoy.
~*~
I could feel those dagger claws ripping into me, catching on bone and hard sinew. I gave the beast a head start, before spinning and slamming it into the ground. Chips of ice-cold marble pushed themselves past its tough scales, embedding in its spine. It couldn’t move, trapped beneath my talons and centuries of muscle.
Demon lords refuse to go the easy route and just die.
I love it when they get like this…immobile, pitiful, just waiting for me to take their heads off. I don’t though. It’s better to watch them squirm until they finally give up. Break them. Make them beg. I like that.
It remains silent, intelligent, wild eyes trying so hard to make me flinch. This close up, I can see the beads of sweat shimmering on each scale, each tiny vein and detail. I pluck one dull black scale from its chest. Not good enough for my collection at home. Digging two clawed fingers into the recently vacated area, I like to peel back the flesh and look at the muscle. Inch by inch, slowly peeling skin away, like stripping the rind from and orange. My horns lower with my head, until the tip of one rests on the pulsing, breathing tissues under the skin. I can really count its ribs now.
A tiny sound from the demon makes me jerk, horn ramming into its lung between the ribs with the greatest sort of sound. Like a cross between a splash and a crunch. Cool.
I peel away its flesh all the way down to the point where I can see the throbbing, sticky entrails. They remind me of something mom made for dinner, once.
My prize is at the bottom. I reach through it, piling the still-attached guts outside of the body until I find what I’m looking for. By this point, there’s so much blood that the only way I can tell its spine apart is by the sound my claws make when they run over it. I usually don’t go through all this trouble; normally I just pull it from the back.
I wrap one hand around the thick column of spine, tugging a few times experimentally. It shifts with a wet sucking sound. With a bit more effort, I yank the prized spine, detaching from the pelvis, ribcage and skull, and pull it away. It glistens ruby red, strings of nerve and tendon hanging from it like tassels.
Happy birthday, Vergil. I got you somethin' special.
~*~
AN: Dedicated to Kitty, who is sick of AFF’s selection of sexy vignettes and wanted more. THIS HAS NO SEX, only pointless violence and gore. Enjoy.
~*~
I could feel those dagger claws ripping into me, catching on bone and hard sinew. I gave the beast a head start, before spinning and slamming it into the ground. Chips of ice-cold marble pushed themselves past its tough scales, embedding in its spine. It couldn’t move, trapped beneath my talons and centuries of muscle.
Demon lords refuse to go the easy route and just die.
I love it when they get like this…immobile, pitiful, just waiting for me to take their heads off. I don’t though. It’s better to watch them squirm until they finally give up. Break them. Make them beg. I like that.
It remains silent, intelligent, wild eyes trying so hard to make me flinch. This close up, I can see the beads of sweat shimmering on each scale, each tiny vein and detail. I pluck one dull black scale from its chest. Not good enough for my collection at home. Digging two clawed fingers into the recently vacated area, I like to peel back the flesh and look at the muscle. Inch by inch, slowly peeling skin away, like stripping the rind from and orange. My horns lower with my head, until the tip of one rests on the pulsing, breathing tissues under the skin. I can really count its ribs now.
A tiny sound from the demon makes me jerk, horn ramming into its lung between the ribs with the greatest sort of sound. Like a cross between a splash and a crunch. Cool.
I peel away its flesh all the way down to the point where I can see the throbbing, sticky entrails. They remind me of something mom made for dinner, once.
My prize is at the bottom. I reach through it, piling the still-attached guts outside of the body until I find what I’m looking for. By this point, there’s so much blood that the only way I can tell its spine apart is by the sound my claws make when they run over it. I usually don’t go through all this trouble; normally I just pull it from the back.
I wrap one hand around the thick column of spine, tugging a few times experimentally. It shifts with a wet sucking sound. With a bit more effort, I yank the prized spine, detaching from the pelvis, ribcage and skull, and pull it away. It glistens ruby red, strings of nerve and tendon hanging from it like tassels.
Happy birthday, Vergil. I got you somethin' special.
~*~