#dante sparda devil may cry

[kxsagi]

“𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚”

a/n: i am so down bad for dante sparda (mainly the version of him in the new netflix anime)

not only is he OP, white-haired, muscular, ripped, and tall, he’s also funny, sarcastic, protective, caring, and mine

(i am not lying when i tell you i binge watched the entire season 1, 8 episodes in one sitting and it took 3.5 hours)

definitely suggestive content inside btw!

the motel room smells like cheap smoke and cheaper whiskey. the walls are paper-thin, the flickering neon light from the “VACANCY” sign outside bleeding through the curtains like a pulsing headache. you’d almost rather be back in that alley surrounded by demon guts. almost. 

dante lounges on the bed like he owns the place. boots kicked off, jacket discarded, and shirt peeled halfway up his torso, showing off a slash across his ribs that’s still bleeding. of course, the smug bastard doesn’t even flinch because he can heal himself. 

you drop the med kit on the table with a hard thunk. 

“you wanna explain why you dropped in like a dramatic ex during my mission?” you ask, tone sharp. “or do you just enjoy ruining my night?” 

he grins, slow and infuriating. “missed me, sweetheart?” 

“missed the way you swing in late, steal my kills, and leave me cleaning up your mess? yeah. like a migraine.” 

he sits up, wincing slightly as he does. “c’mon, don’t be like that. i did save your ass.” 

“i had it handled.” 

“sure you did.” he pats the bed next to him. “now come on. patch me up before i start bleeding on these nice sheets.” 

you snort. “did you forget that you can heal yourself? plus, the sheets are already stained. pretty sure someone died on this mattress last week.” 

“perfect ambiance for us then.” 

despite every instinct screaming at you to leave him to suffer, you grab the whiskey and some gauze and make your way over. kneeling beside him, you press the rag against the wound, maybe a little rougher than necessary. 

he hisses through his teeth, eyes flashing. “you mad at me or just into pain?” 

“depends. you like it rough, sparda?” 

his gaze locks on yours. heat rolls off him like a storm. “with the right person? always.” 

your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t let it show. not entirely. instead, you press harder against the wound, watching his muscles tense beneath your fingers. 

“tell me,” you say, voice lower now. “do you flirt with every hunter who tries to kill you?” 

“just the ones who make it interesting.” 

you should roll your eyes. should finish patching him up and walk away like none of this is getting under your skin. but it is. he’s cocky and reckless and stupidly attractive in that bad decision kind of way, the kind that ends with broken furniture and bruised lips. 

your hands drift lower, fingers brushing against the edge of his belt as you check for more injuries. 

he leans in, breath warm against your ear. “you gonna keep touching me like that, or are you just teasing?” 

you glance at him. “if i said i was teasing?” 

he grins, eyes dark. “then i’d say tease harder.” 

you’re close. too close. his hand comes up, slow and deliberate, thumb grazing your cheek like a challenge. you lean in, not kissing him yet, just hovering, letting the tension coil tighter. 

“you’re dangerous,” you murmur. 

“baby,” he says, voice low, “i’m the safest bad decision you’ll ever make.” 

the space between you snaps. your lips crash into his, all heat and teeth and frustration. his hand tangles in your hair, the other gripping your hip, dragging you onto his lap like he’s been waiting all night for this moment. 

you grind down, and he groans against your mouth. 

"fuck. been thinking about this since that warehouse job,” he mutters, lips trailing down your jaw. “you remember that? when you nearly stabbed me?” 

“you deserved it.” 

he chuckles, low and rough. “probably.” 

his mouth finds your throat, kissing a line down to your collarbone. your hands fumble at the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, tossing it aside like it’s in the way (because it is). your fingers trace the fresh bandage, then drift lower, skimming over his abs. 

“you really gonna fuck me on a bullet wound?” you ask, teasing. 

“you really gonna stop me?” 

his tone is cocky, but there’s something feral behind it. like he needs this. needs you. not just for release, but to feel alive again after facing death one too many times. maybe you need it too. 

you roll your hips again, lips barely brushing his. “say please.” 

he huffs a breathy laugh. “you’re evil.” 

“and you like it.” 

he kisses you like he’s proving a point. like he’s staking a claim. and maybe he is. 

you lose track of time after that. your bodies move in sync, messy and desperate and addictive. somewhere between kisses and muttered curses, you forget why you hated him in the first place. 

when it’s over, you’re tangled in sheets that smell like smoke and sweat and something almost like satisfaction. 

you lay there for a moment, catching your breath, heart pounding against his chest. 

“so,” dante says, voice muffled against your shoulder, “you still mad at me?” 

“depends.” 

“on?” 

you glance at him, smirking. “how fast you can recover.” 

he laughs, a real one this time. deep and warm and stupidly charming. 

“baby,” he murmurs, “you’re gonna kill me.” 

“that’s the plan.”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n #2: this part had me in a chokehold so bad, i know bro is on the verge of dying here but i sent this pic to all my friends and they had nothing appropriate to say

[eurikaplisetsky]

LET'S ROCK 🔥

[hifchn]

lock in

[rabiadraw]

Netflix d

[doodleferp]

Listen. LISTEN. I had to do it before the show came out. I had to.

[nessieartss]

the wacky woohoo pizza man himself is back

it’s up on my inprnt!

[kakemakes]

3 Days Left before this party gets crazy!

Ty @dmccountdown for letting me in on the fun!

[jupitereleven]

new favorite character unlocked 😻

[itsxarien]

my hero | dante x reader

(dante sparda x reader | can be set in DMC'S game universe or anime! inspired by re4.)

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

When Dante was hired to rescue the daughter of a powerful, fortune-telling family, he expected someone pristine. Proper. Maybe soft-spoken, mysterious, and grateful to be saved.

Not... this.

He had slayed demons—multiple demons, mind you, just to reach the creepy, crumbling church where you were kept. Solved a ridiculously hard puzzle, nearly got impaled by a swinging axe trap, and had to put up with the scent of brimstone and rotting pews the whole way.

And this is how you  greeted him?

With a candlestick. To the chest.

Dante staggered slightly, looking down at the now-bent bronze stick protruding from his jacket. His eyes flicked up to the girl standing in front of him, panting, your expression twisted in panic. Her eyes were wide. He could practically hear your heart racing.

“Not the hello I was expecting,” he muttered, yanking the candlestick out of his chest and tossing it aside with a clatter. The wound was already closing.

Honestly, you were kind of a sight, even if your first impression was... intense. He glanced between you and the photo your had given him. Same eyes. Same pouty lips.

Definitely her.

“Who... the hell are you?!” you snapped, stumbling back and dropping to the floor, scurrying away like a terrified cat.

He placed a hand on his hip, unimpressed.

“I’m Dante. I’m here to save you.”

“No, you’re not! You’re-you're one of those things! You’re here to finish the job!”

Dante sighed. “Your father hired me to save you, princess. You can chill.”

But you weren’t having it. You grabbed a piece of broken wood like a sword and aimed it at him, still shaking.

“That’s it.”

Before you could react, he darted forward with lightning speed, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, and threw you over his shoulder.

“Put me down! I swear to God - let go of me! This is kidnapping! You animal!”

“Yeah, yeah. Screaming won’t help your case.”

You flailed and kicked and pounded your fists against his back.

“I’m going to curse you! I’m going to curse your entire bloodline!”

“Aw, that’s cute,” he said with a smirk. “You think I haven’t already been cursed.”

And with that, Dante walked out of the church, the echo of your outraged shrieking following behind him as he carried you straight into your unwanted rescue.

He already knew this mission was going to be a pain.

But hell if it wasn’t going to be entertaining.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Okay... maybe you weren’tthat bad.

After he explained the situation to you—albeit while covering your mouth mid-scream—you started to calm down. A little. And after he saved you from, oh, multiple demon attacks, you finally stopped stabbing him with random objects.

Now, you followed his lead like a wary cat, tiptoeing behind him through the ruins of a quiet village. At first glance, it looked abandoned. Peaceful. But you knew better. Dante had warned you, some of the villagers weren’t villagers at all.

Demons. Disguised. Watching.

You stuck close, barely breathing.

Suddenly, Dante stopped and motioned toward a metal trash can.

You blinked. Confused. “What?”

He kept his voice low. “Hide.”

You looked from him… to the trash can… then back again.

“Seriously?” you hissed.

He turned to face you, clearly baffled. “Yes. Seriously. No choice, princess.”

You groaned and dragged your feet toward the bin like it was your destiny.

“This is so disgusting,” you muttered under your breath. “Ew. Ew. Ew.”

Dante smirked as he heard the faint, pitiful complaints from within. Then, without missing a beat, he drew Ebony and Ivory from his holsters.

“It’s showtime, baby.”

Gunfire erupted just as you hunkered down. Inside the trash can, you flinched at every bang, every crack, every roaring screech from the demon horde. Then you heard it:

“WOOHOO!”

You couldn’t help it,you laughed. A wacky wohoo pizza man saving your life? Not exactly what your cards had predicted. But fate clearly had a wild sense of humor.

The noise outside started to fade. Silence crept back in. Your heartbeat rose.

What if it wasn’t Dante who opened the lid next?

But a moment later, the top popped open and there he was—grinning like a devil who just cleaned house.

“You good there, princess?” he teased, but there was something softer in his tone now. A flicker of concern.

You sighed, brushing your hair from your face.

“Not the best, but it can do.”

He chuckled and offered a hand, easily lifting you out and carrying you from the filth like a damn knight in blood-stained leather.

“You don’t have to worry,” he said over his shoulder. “We’re near the castle. We’re almost out. I’ll have you back to your pops in no time.”

You looked up at him, something warm blooming in your chest. You clasped your hands together.

“Dante?”

He glanced back. “Hmm?”

“Thank you. For saving my life.”

He paused. Just for a moment.

“No need,” he said casually, turning away again. “It’s my job. Come on now—time’s valuable.”

And off you went.

You, the trash-can princess.

And him, the demon-slaying, woohoo-yelling knight.

Yeah… maybe you guys were a nice team.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You were cursed, a demon’s blood was injected inside you while you were unconscious.

One moment, you were walking beside Dante through the castle’s silent halls, chatting about exit plans and the next, your feet froze.

Your body stilled.

“Hey,” Dante called casually from ahead. “You good there, Princess?”

He turned, eyebrow raised. But when he took a step toward you, your hand shot up, swift and deadly. Before either of you could react, your fingers wrapped tightly around his throat.

The grip was monstrous. Not yours. Not truly.

“The girl… is mine,” a voice growled through your lips. Hollow. Unrecognizable. You watched in horror, unable to scream, to cry, to stop.

Dante choked beneath your hold, eyes never leaving yours even as he struggled. He could’ve fought back. He should’ve. But he didn’t. He was afraid of hurting you.

Then just as suddenly, the grip loosened. Your knees buckled and you collapsed, only to be caught by warm, steady arms.

“W-What… happened?” you gasped, blinking rapidly.

Dante smiled at you gently. “Nothin’ much, princess. It’s good to have you back.”

Now, the two of you were in the underground levels, taking a breather in one of the rare safe zones. A “save point” you called it, after one of the video games you played. A friendly mercenary from above had set up a dummy shooting range and Dante took to it like a kid at an arcade, blasting each target with confident ease.

And your cheers? They only made him better.

“Woo! Ten in a row!” “Nice shot, cowboy!” “Is this your secret stress relief?”

Your laughter echoed off the stone walls and Dante couldn’t stop the smirk tugging at his lips. He never thought babysitting a rich girl would be this… fun.

He wasn’t gonna lie, it felt nice, having you around.

But behind your claps and witty quips… something was stirring.

As he reloaded for another round, he noticed the silence. No clapping. No teasing remarks.

He turned, and there you were, staring at your hands. Your expression was distant. Haunted. The veins beneath your skin looked darker. Angrier. Your smile was gone.

“Hey,” Dante called softly, walking toward you. “You good, princess?”

You looked up at him, guilt swimming in your eyes.

“I hurt you,” you whispered.

“You had no control over that.”

“But still!” you snapped, frustration breaking through. “What if I do lose control? What then?”

You looked around the area, eyes glassy. Tears were beginning to pool, and you hated it.

“I’m sorry, Dante…” Your voice cracked. “I’m just… so scared.”

His eyes softened instantly.

“When that happened… I was there. Inside my body. Screaming, but no one could hear me. It was like… like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from!”

You stumbled forward, leaning into his chest. He didn’t hesitate—his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly, protectively.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Just the sound of your quiet sobs, and the steady beat of his heart.

Then he smiled into your hair and whispered:

“You’re the strongest girl I’ve known, (Y/N). What you did back in the castle while I was trapped and unable to reach you? You handled yourself like a damn pro. You’re gonna beat this. I know you will.”

He gently pulled back to look at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I’m gonna bring you home safe.”

Your eyes met his.

For once, the fear inside you faded just a little, replaced by something warm. Trust. Hope. Maybe even something more.

“Now come on, don’t you wanna try this shooting game?”

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

It had taken over.

Veronica. It was the name of the demon that had fully consumed your body, turning you into a twisted mirror of yourself. Black veins streaked across your face, eyes glowing an unnatural red, your voice dripping with venom as she mocked Dante with every word.

But the hardest part wasn’t the speed of her attacks. It wasn’t the razor-sharp accuracy or the maddening, taunting laugh echoing in the chamber.

It was you.

You,whose body Veronica now wore like a trophy, was why Dante hesitated. Each bullet, each strike, each blow brought him closer to ending the fight… and possibly hurting the one person he didn’t want to lose.

You, who had laughed with him in the darkest of places. You, who was the clear representation of why he saves humans. You, who made even a devil feel a little more human.

Then came the moment.

Veronica, grinning wickedly, spotted the flicker of hesitation.

“Jackpot,” she hissed. “So this is the weakness of Sparda’s son…”

She lunged for him—fangs bared, blade raised—but she stopped.

She froze.

From inside the shell, you fought. Screaming in silence. Pushing against the darkness. Your hands trembled mid-strike, and your knees gave out. Her control faltered.

“No… no!!” Veronica howled in rage.

As Dante effortlessly slices through the demons, his eyes never leave you. He could feel it, too, the pull, the connection, even though you were trapped inside that monster. But now, he had you back. You were fighting for control, resisting the demon’s urges to hurt him, and damn, if that didn’t make him proud.

The demon smirked, but it faltered when it realized you weren’t backing down. Dante grinned, his confidence returning like a wave crashing over him. "That’s my girl," he muttered under his breath. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he entered his Devil Trigger, the power surging through him.

The demon howled in defiance. “NO! I am the queen of everything! I WILL NOT FALL!”

Dante shot a look full of cocky confidence. "Yeah? Well, guess what? You’re about to get dethroned."

With one final slash, the demon’s body was sliced in half. You fell, but before you could hit the ground, Dante was already there, catching you in his arms. You blinked, your vision blurry, then you smiled up at him, warmth flooding your chest.

“D-Dante…?”

He smiled. “Gotcha.”

You blinked at him, dazed, but safe. Then you grinned weakly. “My hero.”

“Good to have you back, princess. I missed you.”

You looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Yeah?”

Before he could answer, static crackled through his comm. Lady’s voice cut in.

“You’ve got exactly five minutes before this place goes boom. Underground tunnel. Vehicle’s waiting. Move your asses.”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Buzzkill.”

He looked down at you again, cocky grin back in place.

“Well, what do you say, princess? Care for one last ride?”

You smirked, brushing hair from your face. “I’d be honored.”

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The jet ski roared across the water, moonlight shimmering off the waves. You screamed in exhilaration, clinging to Dante’s back as the wind whipped through your hair.

Finally, he slowed, stopping right in the middle of the vast, open sea. The stars above were glittering. Everything was still.

Dante leaned back slightly, looking over his shoulder.

“Not bad, huh?” he said with that familiar cocky lilt.

You chuckled breathlessly, cheeks flushed.

“What a crazy first date.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You consider this a date?”

You hummed. “Mm… yeah. I mean, you picked me up, saved my life, took me for a ride—kinda romantic.”

Dante chuckled, low and smooth. “Damn. Guess I’ve still got it.”

Then you leaned forward, close to his ear.

“You’ve been putting in work all day, Dante. How about some overtime? I’m sure you’ll enjoy this shift a lot more.”

He tilted his head slightly, that cocky smirk growing.

“I don’t think that’s in the company handbook... but to hell with it.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he twisted the throttle, sending the jet ski speeding ahead. “Hang on tight, princess.”

The engine roared, and the two of you shot forward, the water crashing around you as your arm found its way on his waist. Dante’s grin widened, his satisfaction palpable, especially when he glanced at you, a loving look in his eyes.

So this is what his father felt when he fell in love with his mother, Eva.

And Dante knew it all too well..

He hit the jackpot with you.

[ryanthel0ser]

They should have a meeting or something

also physical as in they are fighting too, these ladies will shoot up the enemy

[wrathchvld]

Dante | Devil May Cry 5 vs. Devil May Cry Netflix Series

[kxsagi]

“𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧”

a/n: okay so… i have dante brainrot

(fanart found here)

you don’t know when it started – well, technically, you do. it was a saturday morning, the kind where the sky is grey and the coffee machine starts sputtering at the worst possible moment. you’d just slapped on your apron and were trying to wrestle a ketchup bottle back to life when he walked in. 

all tall, dark, and devastating. like he was in the wrong movie. like he was supposed to be fighting demons in hell or racing luxury cars across italian rooftops, not standing in your small local diner, blinking up at the specials board like he was decoding a program. 

“uh…hi,” you said, a little breathless. “just one?”

he smiled, and the air shifted like a song started playing just for you. 

“yeah,” he nodded, and then… then he really looked at you. “unless you’re off in twenty minutes. then two.” 

you’d laughed. it was polite. professional. you’d been hit on before. you were gorgeous, after all (and humble). but this guy, he looked like he meant it. like he’d follow you out of there and help you change a flat tire and write poetry about it. 

“booth or bar?” you asked, already leading the way. 

he took a booth. he took every booth after that. because that was the first time dante walked into the diner. and somehow, it was never the last. 

“let me guess,” you say now, pen hovering over your notepad. you were standing in the same spot, just three months later. “you’re going to order the other side of the menu today.” 

dante grins, the kind that could make your knees weak if you weren’t too busy leaning on the table like a girl in a romcom who still has three tables left to take care of. 

“how’d you know?” 

“because you circled the first half last week like you were doing SAT prep.” 

“that obvious, huh?” 

enzo, who is already sitting across from dante with the dead eyes of a man who has been dragged here nearly every wednesday and saturday for the last month, doesn’t even look up from the menu. “you’re pathetic.” 

“i’m learning about local culture,” dante retorts smoothly. “and it’s not pathetic if i’m in love.” 

enzo groans so loud it startles the old man in the corner booth. “again with the love.” 

you raise an eyebrow, flipping your pen between your fingers. “oh?” 

“don’t indulge him,” enzo mutters. 

but you do. because it’s funny. because it’s dante. because he’s got this way of talking like everything he says is a compliment in disguise. especially when it is. 

“so…what’s the order today, romeo?” 

dante’s eyes flicker down to the menu like it’s the first time he’s seeing it and not like he’s been aggressively trying every variation of breakfast sausage on god’s green earth just to talk to you. 

“i’ll take… the pancakes.” 

“the banana ones?” 

“surprise me.” 

enzo makes a strangled noise. “he’s trying to make that sound sexy. do you hear that? i’m not hallucinating.” 

you stifle a snort and turn away with a little smile. “you want bacon with that?” 

“only if you eat one with me.” 

enzo slams his head onto the table. 

but despite the old man’s warnings, you can’t help it – dante’s charming. 

not just flirty. charming. he says thank you like he means it. he helps old people with their coats at the door. he offers to fix the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom with his bare hands like he was born to. he even pulled a stray cat out from under your car last week and tried to name it after you (“look at her, she's got your attitude”). 

it would be easier if he was annoying. or weird. or just some guy with a terrible pickup line and an ego problem. but instead he’s funny. he’s sweet. and yeah, he’s tall. 

you just hadn’t expected his height to be his opening line today. 

“so,” he said casually, elbow on the table like he belonged in a cologne ad. “did i mention i’m six foot three?” 

you blinked. “… is that your order?” 

enzo dropped his head into his hands. “kill me.” 

“i just thought you should know,” dante went on, sipping his coffee like it was wine and he was at a gala. “for science.” 

“science?” 

“yeah. for… height-based compatibility purposes.” 

“wow,” you said dryly, scribbling on your notepad. “and here i was, trying to decide if you were a blueberry or a chocolate chip pancake kinda guy.” 

“i’m flexible,” dante said, all smooth as enzo was actively searching for exits at this point. “but i lean sweet.” 

the weeks go by. dante keeps showing up. he’s tried everything from the chili cheese fries to the tuna melt (“a bold move,” you told him, he looked proud). he tips generously (even though you can tell he has no extra pennies for himself). flirts even more generously. sometimes he brings enzo. sometimes he comes alone. and when he does, he sits at the bar and spins the little napkin dispenser like he’s trying to impress it. 

“you ever think about getting a job here?” you joke one afternoon while pouring him another soda. “you’re basically an unpaid intern at this point.” 

“only if i get to wear the same uniform,” he says, eyes dragging up your apron with a smirk. 

you roll your eyes. but you’re smiling. you always are when he’s around. 

enzo walks in late that day, takes one look at dante smiling like an idiot and you laughing like you’ve known him for years, and sighs the sigh of a man who has already drafted his best man speech out of spite. 

“don’t even,” dante warns before enzo can sit. “we’re having a moment.” 

“you’re having a delusion,” enzo corrects. “this is a restaurant, not a dating sim.” 

you just shake your head, grabbing their plates. “pancakes and existential dread, coming up.” 

enzo salutes you. dante grins proudly. 

and you? 

you’re starting to like the regulars. especially the tall one. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[diviedrawn]

If I had a nickel for every red themed anime character with an evil twin whose voiced by Johnny Yong Bosch, I’d have two nickels…

Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

[skelesass]

Lads ngl im excited

[rabiadraw]

Fem Dante

[yzzart]

⋆˙⟡ BOYFRIEND!DANTE ── HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of anime, Dante being needy, fluff, cute and light content and part two is here!

── word count: 653!

⭑.ᐟ Dante is always, ALWAYS, in contact with you and it doesn't matter where or when. — This is not an exaggeration, or a complaint, never. — Whether through physical touches or messages, SMS, — that man only uses his damn cell phone because of you and even though it's risky — he never lets you keep in contact.

“thinking about you right now ;)” “Dante, you only left about 5 minutes ago…?” “painful, isn’t it? do you believe i have an amazing joke ready? i need to tell you when i get back.”

⭑.ᐟ The demon hunter loves to snuggle up to you, to cling to you; being unable, and in his words, impossible, not to be close to you. — Well, that's his biggest weakness. — Dante always kept his hands around you, usually on your waist and caressing the region. — Like holding your hand, caressing your face and massaging your thigh.

⭑.ᐟ He loves receiving your attention, especially when he is between your boobs and receiving caresses, which make him fall asleep instantly. — you know this very well — However, there was one night, after a long and unbearable killing against beings from the underworld, Dante ended up falling asleep during one of the night conversations, which was your routine, and ended up drooling on your shirt.

⤷ The scene was…naive, also pitiful; your boyfriend was tired, he needed rest more than anything else. — And you, wanting to make him comfortable and pleasant, tried to get out of the position, which was to be underneath him, but an extremely sleepy and heavy Dante prevented your action and mumbled inaudible words — asking you to stay there, with him — and even without understanding, you obeyed.

⭑.ᐟ DDR — DanceDance Revolucion nights? This has become a routine worthy of you and Dante. — Every night, no matter what time it is, and even knowing that you have things to do the next day, this gentle game becomes a competition; Dante, without even caring who is in front, doesn't miss the chance to have fun with his girl.

"Come on, ma'am! Make me impressed, go, go!" + “It was with that swagger that you won me over, right, you smart little girl?” + “I can’t believe you beat me at my own game?”

“Shut your pretty mouth, big boy.”

⭑.ᐟ You are the only person, the only thing that can breathe, that can touch or question his necklace. — There is no discussion about that. — Dante trusts you, until his last breath, even though he has reason to distrust everyone and everything, he would never leave or abandon his loyalty and trust in you. — Out of fear, and respect and common sense, you don't dare to touch it on some occasions and Dante realizes this, he finds it funny, cute, pure; feeling loved and so cared for by you.

⤷ “There’s not a day, not a single day, that the memory of the day she gave me that necklace doesn’t cross my mind.” — Dante mentioned his mother, able to feel a small and unbearable burning in his eyes; he sighed, arranged you in his lap, directing a compassionate look in your direction as your fingers pass through the cord, without touching the amulet. — “And every day, i’m sure she would adore you.”

⭑.ᐟ Dante knows how to be a knight with you, and he really does. — Last piece of pizza in the box? He makes a point of leaving it for you, and that's a high-class knightly role in his eyes. — Even living such a complicated life, working with something so violent and filthy, he can't help but indulge his girl in a few whims.

⤷ Little writings on small pieces of old newspaper, which he left in his pants or jacket pocket, telling some joke or unfunny pick-up line and decorations are typical of Dante. — Teaching you to play pool and then beating him and your prize are moments of grabbing? Oh, Dante is a lucky boy.