Devil May Cry Dante Fanart Novels & Stories

“Daddy.., daddy, please. I promise not to be a bad girl ever again, I promise not to try staying away from you, please let me cum Daddy… please. Dante grinned happily and pulled his cock away from her pussy, making her lay on her back. “Now beg for it sunshine … beg for me to let you cum.” Elena’s eyes squinted and tears filled her eyes. Her knees bucked once more and her pussy clenched. “Please Daddy… sunshine would be a good girl now...she would never think of being a bad girl… please let me cum… “Fucking yes!” Dante groans throatily sending his cock back into her pussy in one rough thrust and taking a halt at her cervix.

Matteo’s chuckle was wicked “You really love him that much, don’t you? You’re so blindly loyal you’re willing to give yourself to his half brother for his freedom” “What the hell do you want Matteo?” I said “You wanted me, I’m here. What else?” “Dante doesn’t deserve you” he said again, blowing cigarette smoke out the window. “And you do?” “I’m the lesser devil” he blew out smoke again from his mouth and flicked the cigarette away. He pulled away from the window and took slow steps towards me – I held my breath. His hands found my waist, pulling me towards him so I could smell his raunchy cologne, so different from Dante’s and his cologne smelled exactly like him – like Matteo. He looked int

I almost wanted to laugh at how dramatic I had made it up to be in my mind. Damiano then grabbed the card, and my brows went up when I recognized the image on it. It was the very same one he had tattooed on his chest. The hooded skull, the crown, and the massive angel wings. It was my favorite tattoo of his. One I had memorized and recreated many times in my sketchbook.

The Earl shrieked in wonder, "You call her a maiden! She is no maiden. She's a thief! A mercenary, unbelievable thief!" He continued barking while he walked backwards away from them, "She handed her drink to the Earl of Vetcom, said things too daring for any normal Scottish woman and stole food. You would not call such person a mai…" He found himself staggering suddenly, noticing he was just at the edge of a ditch, one he didn't notice because he was too busy shouting. While he found himself falling into it, a hand quickly gripped around his hard and tight. Gently, that same hand pulled him up, straight back to his balance. And it was the devil herself.

Thousands of names scrolled beneath her feet, the black ink bleeding through the white fabric of her train. "Don't look at them," a voice boomed from the rafters. Dante stood at the altar. But he wasn't the man from the safe house. He was ten feet tall, a silhouette carved out of the midnight sky. Wings made of thick, oily smoke billowed from his shoulder blades, blotting out the stained glass windows. "Dante? What is this? Make it stop!"

Back when they were twelve, Michael had been briefly fascinated with the tarot and had gone on about it for weeks. It was the fifteenth trump of the major arcana, The Devil. Though this one was marked as Le Diable. It was a much cruder drawing from ones he had seen before. While still sporting the goatish mane and horns, the devil also had prodigious breasts and a massive phallus. There was a blue face in the devil’s midsection sticking its tongue out. Two chained demons, one male, one female, lay at a round pedestal at his feet.

Jon mumbled. "And that undisclosed buyer is me," said Dante smiling widely, his sharp teeth glistening in the dim room. "Let's see if you can guess who painted the next one." Dante walked eagerly to the next painting, his cane tapping on the wooden floor like a one-legged giant insect. He likewise turned on the pin lights and the painting exploded in colors of bright red and burnt sienna. "This painting is something I really like. Tell me what you think?" The second painting showed a half-naked man with eyes opened wide as if in a crazed state. In his hand was something that looked like a severed human arm while blood was seen dripping from his mouth. He appeared to be in a desert and faint

Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand that we are very much a part of the business they did want in the first place so they have to keep up appearances and make themselves known. If anyone of my guys should be feared it would be Dante. He’s the jokester, the fool everyone thinks can’t be serious. Dante’s imagination and fascination with mid-evil torture divides a gore makes him one of those people who would take enjoyment out of watching someone slowly bleed out while watching them suffer until he gets his answers.

she spat, even as her nipples hardened against the thin fabric of her dress. That was the final straw. Dante ripped the straps of her dress down in one violent motion, exposing her breasts. Before she could protest, he bent down and sucked a hard nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make her cry out. His hand shoved between her thighs, fingers pushing her soaked panties aside and plunging two thick digits deep into her tight heat. “Still so fucking wet,” he snarled, pumping his fingers roughly. “Trapped with the Devil’s Son for one day and your virgin pussy is already weeping for me.”

“Then you will watch your kingdom burn from the inside. Every ally will turn, every soldier defect, every coin rot in your hand. Because I already own them. You are kings and queens only so long as I allow it.” For a long moment, silence reigned. Dante’s fists clenched, his fury palpable. But before he could speak, Amara leaned forward, her gaze locked on the Devil’s. “And what do you gain by offering us mercy?” she asked. His eyes gleamed. “Entertainment. Even devils like their games.” --- The Private Dance Later, when the music shifted to something slower, Il Diavolo extended his hand toward Amara. “Dance with me,” he said.