Devil May Cry Dante Novels & Stories

He yelled at Marco as he walked to stand before him. Marco rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Shut up. I have a job for you.” “I'm not interested." Dante refuted it even before hearing what it was. He wasn't interested to know. “Dante, behave," Marco growled. This did the trick because he sighed and eyed Marco. “Fine, What do you want?" Dante asked as he took a seat. Marco stayed quiet for a few minutes, then cleared his throat. "It's simple and easy, Visit Devil's Den and get me Gracino Franco.”

A massive, real life devil, the literal largest of life killers that ever walked the earth… kneeling before ME. At MY mercy. Hope flicks her tail playfully, and bats her eyes. Dante walks up to Rowan, clearly without any fear at all, and sniffs him. Hope wiggles our nose as the stench of sulfur and burnt skin flitters into our nose. When the devil huffs slightly, actual fucking smoke comes out of his nose. *Ohh man that’s awful,* Hope says, as she fights trying not to show her disgust at the smell. We stand frozen when the devil scoops up Dante’s large body and brings him so their noses rub. Awwww!

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.

Hema bit her lip to keep from crying out. Without warning, Zayden seized her wrist and dragged her towards the bed, his grip unyielding. He pushed her onto the mattress, caging her beneath his formidable frame. The sheets thrashed about as she struggled to cover herself, but he would have none of it. Zayden's mouth descended upon her breast, his teeth grazing the tender skin. Hema cried out, the sting of pain morphing into an unwanted surge of pleasure. He nibbled and bit, marking her flesh as his own, a perverse brand of possession.

As his blood dropped to the floor, he called out for the devil in a foreign tongue. "Lucifer, I summon you." A heavy wind blew, and the candles went out. A spear appeared in his hand, and he watched as the devil emerged from the shadows, then he threw the spear at him, and plunged it into his chest. "I warned you to stay away from Aria." Lucas yelled at him, still plunging the spear deeper into the devil's chest. "You know you can't kill me." Lucifer said, and winced in pain. "I may not be able to kill you, but I can cause you pains. I warned you, but you wouldn't listen." Lucas pulled the spear roughly out of him, and the devil fell to the ground.

DANTE'S POV People call me the Devil of New York. They're not wrong. I've killed men for less than a dirty look. I've gutted rats who thought they could steal from me. I've fucked women who begged for mercy and made them beg for more pain instead. My empire runs on blood, loyalty, and fear. That's the only language this rotten world understands. And tonight, I reminded everyone of it. Crawford thought he could play me. Thought he could borrow money from my syndicate, promise returns, and then ghost like I'm some dumb fuck banker. No. You don't spit in my face and walk away.

“Then maybe you should be asking yourself why you can’t stop wanting the devil’s daughter.” Dante’s hand caught the back of her chair, his grip white-knuckled. His breath brushed her temple. “Because I’d rather own the fire than let it burn me.” Valentina’s pulse thundered. Her mask held. But the cracks were showing, and she knew he saw everyone. The silence after Dante’s last words wasn’t silence at all — it was a blade pressed between them. Valentina leaned back in the chair, her crimson smile daring. “Own the fire? Careful, Dante. You might get burned.”

' She looked at Dante, waiting for the explosion, waiting for him to cast me out for my "treachery." But the explosion didn't come. Dante’s glass shattered in his hand. The crystal shards sliced into his palm, but he didn't blink. He stared at the recorder, his eyes darkening into a terrifying, obsidian void. He wasn't angry. He was possessed. He didn't hear the fear of a victim. He heard the devotion of a martyr. He heard a woman who was terrified of his darkness but couldn't live without his light. It was the ultimate drug for a man who had never been loved, only feared.

Dante kept talking, his voice low and filthy against my ear. “That’s it… just like that. Fuck, you look so pretty riding me. Such a good girl. Come for Daddy. Come all over this cock.” My orgasm hit me hard. I cried out as my pussy clenched tightly around him, my whole body shaking as I came. I kept grinding on him through it, my thighs trembling as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me. Dante groaned loudly beneath me, his hands gripping my ass so hard I knew there would be marks later.

EMILY'S POV A few weeks had passed since I began working for Dante. His sight disgusts me but I had to answer his calls, unless I wanted my head separated from my body. Dante made sure I was always with him, serving him or the sexy ladies who appeased him sexually. I would watch them rub his body with their breasts as he rested his back on the couch and sometimes he would go as far as pressing their boobs whilst staring at me. I tried as much as I could to avert my gaze from him, especially when I felt turned on by his sexual gestures. Dante would smirk and watch as I tried controlling myself. It was clear he knew what he was doing.