Dante Devil May Cry Fanart Novels & Stories

What started as a job, a duty to make sure she felt our side was her only real choice, became an obsession. Our plan had been put in motion years before, creating a rock band to travel the world bringing in kids her age from everywhere knowing one day she would show up. Devil’s Night is now the most popular band in the world with teens and young adults. While simultaneously being the most hated band in the world with their parents. We have fans everywhere just dying for a chance to spend a few moments with us and I, Damien Raines, am the frontman.

David Carson David Carson is a well-known young billionaire who is widely admired for his philanthropic activities. However, behind his public persona lies a dark secret - he is actually the notorious mafia kingpin known as "Devil". Despite his reputation as a heartless and ruthless individual, David manages to maintain a façade of a successful businessman to the outside world. David's criminal activities include smuggling and murder, and he takes great pleasure in committing these crimes without leaving any evidence behind. He uses the black money earned from these illegal activities to fund his charity work, thereby creating a false impression of himself as a generous benefactor.

"Well, then I'll be the one to go first..." "No, I'll go first" "I'm quite good, I'll go first" A smirk lingered at the corner of her lips as she watched the other gamblers stopped their games to fight for a night with her. It's really good to be beautiful and sexy. In less than a minute, everyone turned against each other and fought, throwing stuffs around the bar. The bar man hid to seek shelter from the objects hurled in his direction, Anastasia seems unwavering even as cups broke before her feet, one hit her in the temple.

Zachary fumed and looked straight in her eyes that were gleaming with mirth. “I am not going to let you or this pauper destroy my kingdom” Delphyne gritted and then looked at Diana who was trying hard to stifle her cries, “Listen and better ingrain this in your mind witch, we are devils. We hate you and your entire fucking community. Heaven was once ours and soon we are gonna snatch it back from you. You better start counting your days because they won’t last long.” Diana gasped in horror. Zachary also stared at his mother incredulously, “THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT??”

I feel you; I see you, Take a good view, And get lost through, But do not subdue, Because I got you. I give you one more chance, Password is a word on the street. Turn me over, And oh, you’ll get what you truly desire. The bartender watches me as he wipes the glasses, a curious look dances by his eyebrows as he registers the look on my face. I am left appalled. How does he know what I desire? And who the bloody hell is he? I look down at the card and wipe off the dust at the back. The name is not Dustin, but Devlin this time, and a new desire below the name.

Within minutes, the room had quieted, now holding only three people: Denis, Simon, and Liam. Denis turned his chair, settling in the leather seat at the far corner of the room. With a flick of his lighter, he lit another cigarette and leaned back, exhaling a slow, calculated stream of smoke. “Put up the screen. Let’s see the history on the girl,” he said, fingers lightly tapping the armrest. “We’ve gathered all the details we could,” Simon nodded toward Liam, who took the cue. The screen at the end of the room flickered to life. The lights dimmed slightly, drawing all eyes to the projection. The first image was simple—yet deeply telling.

he whispered, voice low, dark, teasing. Her fingers slid over his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle as she closed the last inch between them, lips brushing his. “If I can’t kill the devil…” she murmured, voice trembling with fire, “then when I take my revenge… you’ll wish for anything but death.” Her eyes locked on his in a promise. “I will make you taste tears of blood, dear devil.”

Subject line: “You Asked for the Devil” The file was massive. Raphael stood behind me, watching as I clicked open layer after layer. Lucian Damian Devlin. Born in Austria. Raised in Switzerland. Fluent in five languages. Educated in private institutions under aliases. Trained in weapons, finance, manipulation. Current occupation: CEO of Devlin Global Holdings. Unofficially: Heir and now head of the Devlin Cartel — a billion-dollar empire of drugs, trafficking, and global political influence. I scrolled, the blood draining from my face.

he clapped his hands. “You wish” I said and hissed again with veins on my neck popping out. “Ewww” Dante turned to the door and his back was the view I got. He took two steps forward and stopped, “I hope that you are very sure of accepting the real devil because this is just a tip of an iceberg” he called out. “Huh! You haven't done enough?” I asked. “I am just getting started,” he said and walked out of the room. ***

From up here, the city glowed like a wound—fires smoldering, broken glass glittering, and the cries of the desperate echoing into the dark. Behind her, Dante’s footsteps were measured, deliberate, like a predator stalking the silence. He had grown quieter in recent weeks, his rage contained but seething like a furnace beneath the surface. The attack two nights ago had proven what they both already knew: there was someone else moving pieces against them. Someone smarter, colder, and more patient than Lorenzo had ever been. Amara didn’t turn when Dante finally spoke. “They call him Il Diavolo,” Dante said, his voice like gravel. “The Devil. An old ghost. I thought he was buried years ago, but