Devil May Cry Dante Fanart Novels & Stories

“Well I've never seen beauty quite like that. The deal is yours, Diavolo. I'll even add an extra five hundred million dollars for it to become a billion dollar deal.” “Whats the catch?” “I want the girl.” My stomach flipped as I saw the devil cosplayer rise to his feet. He said something I wasn't fast enough to catch, but on closer inspection, I realized he was talking into the plug he had on. The curtain began to close. I was helped out of the glass. Before I could blink, everyone backstage had disappeared. I heard footsteps behind me and on turning, I saw the devil. “Well played.’’ He clapped. “You can’t sell me!’’ I blurted in panic.

The kind that kissed girls in dark hallways and pretended it never happened afterward. Unfortunately, I knew that from experience. "Smile, sweetheart." My stomach tightened instantly. I turned slowly. Dante stood a few feet away, drenched in rain and sweat, black eye paint smeared beneath his eyes. His jersey clung to every inch of muscle like it had been stitched onto him. Number Seven. Quarterback, campus king, and a professional menace, the kind of good looking that ruined lives. And unfortunately, he had a specific talent for ruining mine. His dark gaze slid over me mockingly. "You always look constipated when you take my pictures."

“What do you mean?” Dante tugs at my hand gently, he leads me across the room to one wall where four of the paintings are displayed. Most of my work is that of nature, with dominant greens and blues. Dewdrops on flowers and the sea are the most striking similarities among the pieces, a bright contrast from those that Dante kept in the gallery. “The first time you saw my art collection at your gallery, I’m sure you noticed how all the artworks depict pain, gore… death.”

I cried, unable to take it anymore. "I'm going to cum Dante!! I'm cumming! Fuck, I'm cumming Dante!" I cried, my hands tightening around his neck, and my hair sticking to my face. "Then cum. Let me feel your pussy clench around my cock. Milk my dick like your life depends on it," dante growled into my ears, pounding into me like a crazed animal. I whimpered, panting and breathes with need. Dante had made his point on both my mind and body I had no choice but to obey him.

< Waylon chuckled, >You know I love you. Dante smirked. He reached over the bed and slapped Waylon’s ass. >And you know I love you, mate.< >I do, now go!< Waylon said and covered his head with the yellow blanket. Dante shook his head unamused and walked out of the room. He quickly cleaned the living room and as he was cleaning, he found the drawing that Waylon was talking about. Dante was so confused, he turned the page around to look at the wolf properly. He could tell that the drawing was upside down because Caiden drew himself, too.

“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.

“She will be mine forever. Fifty million dollars.” My eyes flew open. Dante stood at the edge of the VIP balcony, black tuxedo immaculate, no mask needed because everyone knew that face. He held his paddle high, expression calm as if he were bidding on a vintage car instead of a human life. Relief crashed through me first—sharp, dizzying. Dante. The devil I knew. The one who threatened fingers and teeth but had never once touched me like those men wanted to. Then fear followed, cold and twisting. Forever. Not one night. Not an evening’s toy. Forever.

This man was the devil himself, and the next thing he did certainly confirmed that. He walked over to where Dante was on the floor, knelt close to him, and carefully placed his hands on Dante's shoulders, like a friend would do. His hands glowed faintly, black veins surged beneath Dante's skin, and slowly, even while Caspian was performing, there was still a cold smile on his face. Blood slowly trickles down from Dante's nose. Not able to hold it any longer, Dante finally let out a loud scream that echoed throughout the pack.

Had he always been this selfish? My thoughts were immediately silenced when a new voice sliced through the clamor, calm, and utterly lethal. "One hundred million." The room fell silent. Even the auctioneer froze, gavel suspended mid-air. I forced my heavy eyelids open just long enough to see him. He stood at the very back, half-shrouded in shadow. Black suit tailored to perfection. Black mask concealing the upper half of his face. But that silhouette was unmistakable. Everyone in the mafia world knew it. The Devil. Carlos Hernandez. The man they called the Devil in Armani because he destroyed empires while looking like he had just stepped out of a Milan runway.

“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.