Dante Devil May Cry Fanart Novels & Stories

I stare at her incredulously "You seriously profile men by tax bracket?" She rolls her eyes "Obviously." I snort before I can stop myself and Rhyssa smirks triumphantly like she’s won something. "Also... I saw you making eyes at Dante earlier," she says casually and I wince "The guy with the crazy girlfriend?" She chuckles "She's not his girlfriend... Dante doesn't do girlfriends... he's a bit of a perv... That’s when I knew I needed to intervene, when I saw you smile at him." I grimace. "Yeah… I figured that out eventually."

I get out my charcoal and draw his hands holding his drumsticks. "Maybe you could design us a new Black Sparrows band logo. Maybe you should study graphic design. Just a thought art girl." Dante takes my new drawing and holds it proudly. "Thanks. I will keep that in mind. And don't worry about what you said earlier. Maybe we could make this work. Want to have another study date and actually study this time?"

Her fingers brushed his cheek, still warm but pale, and something inside her cracked. Tears began to slip from her eyes—slow, silent, and heavy. She hovered over him, her chest heaving, her mind screaming. Please... don’t die on me. But across the room stood the devil himself. DANTE. Unbothered. Cold. Detached. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t even look at Damon bleeding to death. Instead, he stood before the wall like it was a gallery—staring at the photographs of her. His fingers held a cigarette lazily, smoke curling into the dim air like poison.

No humanity, just hunger. “You’re him,” she whispered. “The Devil of the Underworld.” He bowed his head slightly, a mockery of courtly manners. “Dante Moretti. Though most only whisper my name.” Her heart pounded. Dante Moretti wasn’t just a crime lord—he was a myth. A monster in a designer suit. A man with more blood on his hands than the war itself. Rumors said he didn’t age, didn’t bleed, didn’t sleep. That he struck deals in shadows, and those who betrayed him were never found again. Or if they were, it was in pieces.

“Maybe biting a bullet. Or him. Or all three.” A deep inhale. A fake-ass smile. And I walk in. Dante’s already seated on the edge of the tub, shirtless. And I mean—fucking shirtless. His torso is all hard ridges, tan skin pulled over muscle though it was made to be ogled, not washed. The bandages on his arms are fresh, done by me, but he still looks as if a goddamn dark fantasy novel cover come to life. Crimson eyes zero in on me though I’m the first meal he’s seen in days and he’s starving.

Dante. Leaning casually against the window, half-naked, holding a glass of amber whiskey like he was in a cologne commercial. His tattoo curled down the side of his torso like it had been drawn by sin itself, highlighting every sculpted inch of his abs. And that smirk—God, that smirk. Equal parts arrogant and devastating. What on earth was wrong with you, Scarlet? Why do you want to pounce on him? “Why am I here?” I asked, trying to sound firm, though my eyes may have lingered a little too long on his chest.

I screamed, pulling at the chain that held me to the wall. Dante didn’t spare a glance in my direction as he moved to start carving something into Ronan’s chest. He looked so peaceful and serene carving out his art while Ronan screamed and thrashed against the wall. My throat felt raw from all the screaming and begging and my eyes could not produce any more tears. Dante continued drawing pieces of rubbish all over Ronan until he was covered in blood. He then took a few steps back to admire his art before pulling out his phone and taking a picture.

He cursed under his breath. At first prince Arthur couldn't take his eyes off the red ones peering at him, it was as if he has been glued to those flaming eyes, but that spell lost it effect on him the moment he heard another growl from the massive creature laying on the floor with an arrow stuck in his heart. ‘ isn't this what they call caught between the devil and the deep blue sea?, but then no matter how beautiful the sea might appear, the devil you know is far better.’ “Ahhhhhhhh"

He asked, seethed. The woman nodded with difficulty, she tried to open her mouth but except for air, nothing came. The devil smirked at me, "This is what happens Ella when someone hurts me deeply," He said staring into my eyes and then inserted his hand inside her pu**y, as she opened her eyes wide startled by his actions. She shouted in pain and fear but it was too late as the devil pulled her womb out of her body with cruelty. BOOM

The man smiles, pulling out a key from under and placing it on the table. Sebastian smiles at him, retrieving the key as from underneath his palm as he places fifty bucks on the counter. He turns to scrutinize the place again. It is not worth the fifty bucks. It is not worth a damn payment at all and the bull head hanging just a few inches off the top feels more like for fetish shit than a real motel. “Welcome, enjoy your stay.” The man flashes a set of decayed brown teeth. Sebastian forces a chuckle in return as he heads towards the stairs.