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A/N: I don't really care if people hate the Netflix anime, I love it. I want a season 2 right now.
the type of guy who would buy you a cowboy hat when you say you want to ride his cock
you don't have to wear the hat when you're riding him but he thinks it adds to the fun
a very touchy guy, he can never keep his hands to himself
Dante refuses to keep his hands away from your clit when you're having sex, it is a magical pleasure button after all, so even if you're doing most of the moving he still wants to give himself something to do
slaps your ass a lot, more often with just one hand but sometimes with both and always grabs you where he slapped, especially when he knows you're still sensitive
if you get tired he will lift your legs up, his arms below your knees and fingers interlocked with yours, before he starts hammering his cock into your sensitive wet hole
very chatty and will always tell you how much he's enjoying himself, or how hypnotized he is by the view of your pussy swallowing his hard cock, your pussy making his white pubic hair wet with it's slick, the slapping, lewd noise that your pussy makes when you lower yourself on him over and over
grins up at you and gives you a thumbs up when you make him come while riding him
when he wants you to ride him he will sit on the bed, pat his thighs and tell you to get on, and yes, he will absolutely also say yee-haw
has condoms in lots of different colors to make things more fun when he has to watch his cock go in and out of you
one interesting thing that he likes is to fuck you from behind but then he will stop, leave just the tip of his cock inside of you, feeling your pussy tighten, trying to pull him back in but he won't move
instead he tells you to ride his cock from this position
as much as he loves getting ridden he is still Dante at the end of the way, so of course he will find a way to be a cocky bastard about it
not like you didn't know that before you started dating, now your sex life is that much more fun, for having Dante there
[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]
thinking about riding dante sparda’s abs.
you woke up in the middle of the night, questioning why your boyfriend didn’t join you in bed, yet you swore you could hear his snores echoing throughout your apartment.
dressed in an oversized shirt, you step out of your bedroom, your bare feet touching at the wooden floors that creak with your added weight. as you venture out into the living room, dante’s snores became even more prominent. noticing the way his boots hang precariously off the side of the couch, you inch closer to the piece of furniture only to find dante sprawled out in a deep slumber.
his chest moves in tune to his deep breaths, making you cross your arms upon seeing his torn clothes and how his abdomen was revealed to you. you lean forward, ready to wake him up when a sudden urge-
a compulsion you couldn’t seem to ignore courses through you.
your eyes kept taking in the sinful sight of him, with his torn shirt and how it left nothing to the imagination. dante was laid out so deliciously for you that you had to take a moment to admire him. as if sculpted by the gods themselves, there wasn’t an inch of dante that was short of perfection. while he breathed, you watched with an almost hungry gaze at how his muscles rippled in response.
a familiar ache was settled between your legs when you carefully step out of your panties, kicking them aside when they pool against your ankles. heat was felt blossoming within your veins when you manage to climb on top of your beloved hunter, placing your naked center over his abdomen while trembling at how the first contact made you feel.
low whimpers escape from your parted lips when you brace yourself against his chest, moving your slick heat up and down his abdomen. you allow each muscled ridge to catch at your clit, fueling the bundle of nerves with some much needed friction. your movements succeed in making the couch bounce in response, with dante no longer asleep as he lazily watches you while a storm was felt brewing beneath his eyes.
his low whistle was what makes you stutter in your movements, eyes going wide when his large hands were felt gripping at your waist. “you surprised me with a gift? you shouldn’t have, baby.” taking advantage of your distracted state, dante controls your movements by sliding you up and down the length of his abdomen, your arousal staining at his skin making him groan in response.
“you’re such a pretty girl for me… so damn pretty.” dante praises you in hushed tones, the deep timbre of his voice causing shivers to run up and down your spine. he suddenly removes your aching cunt away from his abs, keeping you still with one hand while freeing his cock from the confines of his pants with the other.
when his belt lands against the floor without a second thought, you found yourself laid back against the couch. dante removes your oversized shirt, giving him the view of your perky breasts and how your nipples hardened beneath his heated gaze. he lets out a low whistle, tossing aside your shirt while cupping one of your breasts within the palm of his hand. “how did a bastard like me get so lucky?”
playing with your nipples for another brief second, he releases them, feigning disappointment when he tosses both of your legs against his shoulder, “as much as i’d love to have my mouth suckling at your tits, ‘m afraid my dick just got way too hard to ignore. it’s practically leaking for you, babygirl.”
with your legs trapped against his shoulder, you could barely move, trembling with anticipation when you felt his cockhead lightly tracing at your outer lips. he collects the evidence of your arousal, slapping his tip playfully against your entrance to draw out even more of your whiny moans.
“ngh, dante…! stop teasing me…”
“heh, as you wish, babe.”
no longer teasing you, dante swiftly enters you, sheathing his cock deep inside your silky walls as he forces you into a mating press. his swift pounds were void of any gentleness as he fucks you with a possessiveness that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. you were so full of him-
so full of his cock that you lost every single thought that didn’t pertain to him.
the sensation of his cock nestled so deeply inside of you was overwhelming, filling you with a red hot pleasure you craved. his balls kept slapping against you, and you swore that he was fucking you so deep that he was practically in your womb at this point. the feeling of being fucked dumb along with the lingering scent of sex in the air were too much to bear when you manage to arch your back against the leather couch, releasing your juices down the length of his cock.
a growl was heard coming from dante as he continues to bully your sensitive walls with his cock, not stopping even when you had him in a vice grip. yet a few moments later, the need to cum overpowers everything else when dante stills his hips, allowing his dick to grow while you milked him for all he was worth.
thick spurts of his cum were felt being pumped inside you, making you drool at the sudden sensation as you were certain you had heart in your eyes for the beast of a man settled above you. when dante was confident that he was completely emptied did he land against you (earning a loud squeak from you).
“whoa, dante…! you’re so heavy…” his rich chuckle fills at your ear, with dante removing your legs from his shoulder and back down to his waist. he says your name in an almost reverent manner, his usually gruff voice tinged with an unusual softness that he reserves only for you. you meet his gaze, seeing the perfect quality of his true blue eyes, reminding you of clear ocean waters for a brief second until he leans forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss.
you respond eagerly, kissing him back with just as much passion when you opened up to him. tongues battled for dominance, yet you lost as soon as you felt his tongue pinning yours down. he explores your taste with a slowness that conveyed he had all the time in the world-
yet the sensation of something hard growing from inside you breaks you out of your haze, all too eager to delve in both of your hedonistic desires when dante pulls away from your lips.
with a cocky grin on his face, he spreads your legs wide open for him, allowing both of your legs to hang off either sides of the couch before pistoning his cock back into you. “heh, sorry princess, i guess once wasn’t enough f’ me. but… you’ll forgive me, right?”
and with how good dante was making you feel, you would have done anything and everything for him.
end notes: dante was made for the feminine gaze 🫦
all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!
+ note: i intended this with dmc3 dante, but any version of him you desire works <33
minors dni!
dante sparda was know for his appetite. he loved pizza, he loved strawberry sundaes. but what he most loved?
your pussy.
dante could spend hours between your thighs. he would beg for a lick, "just one, please?" you both knew that it would be way more than one. but how could you ever deny him?
he was messy, but skilled. one long, flat press of his tongue up your slit, fingers parting your lips as he dips his tongue in to lap at your walls.
he couldn't get enough!! his lips would wrap around your clit, tracing shapes and his name onto the sensitive bud. anything to get you to cum, anything to slurp up all your release.
dante never settled for one orgasm from you. no, he needed more. your thighs would be coated in your slick, release, and his drool, his chin wet, a puddle soaking into the bed or couch, where ever he could get you.
your legs would be slung over his shoulders, mouth desperately making out with your cunt, like he was starved for days.
he even asked you to not shower after work. he loved your natural scent, the taste of your day on you.
dante was a hungry, sloppy man, never satisfied. he craved you. it got him off watching you fall apart under him.
or better, on top of him. he loved having you sit on his face.
that's an understatement, he needed you to sit on his face. caging his head in between your thighs, rutting your hips against his mouth, it was heaven for the man.
his eyes would close in pure ecstasy, hands keeping your hips fully seated on his face as he slurps away. he doesn't do that hovering bullshit, he needs to feel you against him, on him.
dante has no shame using his devil trigger as well, fucking you with his long tongue, hot breath against your wet flesh. it was primal, he felt almost animalistic with the way he would get.
what could he say? dante really just loved the taste of you.
your body is a blank canvas, and he is the artist. every stroke, every gasp, every drop left behind is a signature.
NOW LOADING... where he finishes, how he claims you, why you’ll never forget it. BREEDING LEVEL: LEGENDARY.
NERO MESSIER THAN HE MEANT TO BE SPARDA
REVVED TOO HARD INSIDE, ON YOUR STOMACH
You’re on your stomach, ass up, face buried in the sheets, and Nero’s trying so hard to be quiet. He’s panting against your spine, trying not to lose it as your body rocks with every sloppy, desperate thrust. His metal arm clutches your waist, keeping you right where he wants you… No, where he needs you.
“F-fuck—you feel so good,” he grits, voice cracking, cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “I swear to god, baby, you’re gonna kill me like this…”
You moan his name—soft, ruined. He chokes. Actually chokes on air, and then you say it. You say the words that ruin him. “Inside. Nero… please. I want it.”
Everything stops, because shut up he is trying so hard not to cum.
He pulls back just enough to stare down at you, wide-eyed, pupils blown. His mouth parts like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. His next thrust hits deep, harder than before, as if your plea just flipped a switch in him because it did.
“Shit—fuck, baby—are you sure?” he gasps, voice wrecked. “You say shit like that and I’m gonna fucking devil trigger, I swear to god…”
You nod, reaching back to grab at him, begging with your body now too. He groans. Loud. Desperate. He can’t hold back, and with one more thrust, he’s gone.
Nero cums with a growl, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses inside you. His body curls over yours, trembling with the force of it, one hand fisting in your hair, the other braced against your lower back as he fills you full—hot, thick, way too much.
“Ah, goddamn it,” he whines into your neck, lips brushing your ear. “You’re so good—so fucking perfect…shit, I didn’t mean to, but I wanted to…”
He stays there, cock twitching with your cunt fluttering around him, milking every drop. When he finally pulls out, he watches it leak from you and his eyes go wide, reverent, wrecked. He exhales a curse, dragging a hand down his face.
“…I’m gonna be broke from buying Plan B.”
You hum, still hazy, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Then stop doing it.” He glares. Blushes. Cums again in his fucking mind.
“You’re the worst,” he mutters, reaching for a towel, then staring at the mess on your thighs instead.
...But he doesn’t clean it up. Because just then you slowly roll onto your back aching, dripping, and stretch like a goddamn goddess. Your stomach’s already smeared with him, slick between your thighs, glowing in the low light. And Nero loses it again.
“Oh—oh fuck,” he gasps, jerking forward like a man possessed. His cock, still hard, twitches at the sight. “I—I can’t—”
He fists himself, frantic, not even trying to hold back. He finishes all over your stomach and tits with a hoarse cry, hips stuttering, ropes of cum painting you again like it’s instinct, unholy thought filling his head.
“I’ll do it again,” he pants. “As many times as you let me.”
DANTE UNHINGED IN THE HOTTEST WAY SPARDA
HITTING THE JACKPOT INSIDE, ON YOUR TITS OR ASS
Dante’s not just fucking you—he’s painting you. A masterpiece of moans, soreness, and his cum exactly where he wants it. His favorite spot? Depends on how feral he's feeling.
When he finishes inside, it’s deep and messy, punctuated by rough groans and his hips twitching as he empties himself into you. But Dante’s an exhibitionist with no one to impress but you. So sometimes, just to prove a point, he pulls out last second and strokes himself, watching your tits bounce or your ass jiggle beneath him and whistles at the sight of you looking like a fertility goddess. A second later he covers your body with thick ropes of cum while grinning like the devil himself.
"Gonna need a round two just to clean it up.”
He wants you to feel it drip, see it pool on your belly, or drip down your thighs. To him, you’re not just his partner, you are art itself, and he makes the finishing touches.
On the occasions when he finishes inside you (which is every time), he’s nested deep. Not just emotional damage deep, you swear you can feel his dick reaching your throat: thick, throbbing, filling every inch to perfection. His hips grind slowly, then a little faster, and your legs are shaking from how long he’s kept you right on the edge. You already had your orgasms. What is taking him so long?
“Shit… you feel too good, baby,” he mutters, burring his head in the crock of your neck, his breath hot and ragged as he leaves a soft kiss there. “So tight, like you were made for me, yeah?”
Then he sinks in fully with one final thrust, and you feel the twitch. The hot warmth of him spilling inside, not pulling—even worse, he is not even trying to, because he loves this level of closeness and intimacy. Body to body, soul to soul.
Your body clamps down involuntarily, and you whimper at the sheer fullness and the way it stretches you, the way you swear you feel it in your belly. He chuckles, sinfully and proudly reaches down, pressing a hand flat to your lower abdomen.
“Well, look at that,” he pants, eyes glazed with lust and something a little unhinged. “All mine, sweetheart. You are so beautiful when you are full of me.”
You shiver beneath him, dazed, needy, a little too into it. Your breath catches at the pressure blooming inside, the slick, hot mess. He pulls out slow, and when your hips jerk, his cum leaks out in thick white drips.
“Now you really look divine,” he murmurs, thumbing it back in like he can’t help himself. “Shit, I’ll grab Plan B in the morning, I swear. Just...let me enjoy this one, alright?”
You nod, voice lost somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. Right now, you don't have the mental capacity to respond or to think about anything other than him.
And the worst part is that you secretly love it. Love the way he fucks you like he’s claiming you for the very first time. Love the way he shows just how much he loves you. Love the way you already want more.
VERGIL TAKE EVERYTHING I OFFER SPARDA
THE APROACHING STORM INSIDE, ON YOUR THIGHS
He always finishes inside. Always. You won't catch this man slacking or not doing anything the way it's supposed to.
There’s something empowering about the way he holds you when he’s close—one hand gripping your thigh to keep you from moving so much, the other hand cradling your throat, not tight, just enough for you to feel how fragile you are under him. His face is buried in your neck, breath cold despite the furious way his hips grind into yours.
“You will take it,” he murmurs, voice low, trembling with control, with hunger. “Do you understand?” You nod, too far gone to speak, thighs trembling from the pressure building with every thrust. You can feel it—his restraint snapping thread by thread, unraveling.
And then it hits, like a silent storm that no one knew would come. As an unexpected surprise that was more than pleasant.
He sinks in with a final, bruising thrust and stills. You feel the hot, pulsing rush of his release flood you, thick and deliberate, marking you. He groans low in his throat—a rare, vulnerable sound—as his jaw clenches against your shoulder. You clutch at his back, panting, moaning, full in the deepest, most primal sense.
He doesn’t pull out, never does.
He stays inside you, hips pressed flush, as if trying to carve the shape of himself into your womb. You shift under him, overstimulated, but his hand presses your hip still.
“You feel that?” he breathes against your ear. “Mine.”
When Vergil finishes inside you, it’s not just sex, it’s a silent promise to keep the connection between two souls sacred. He doesn’t moan or curse, just breathes out your name like a command, like a claim, because he has control over you, but you are also his weakness.
Each time, his eyes go half-lidded, that stoic expression crossing his face, like he’s giving you something sacred that will break any minute, something he shouldn’t even think about. He’s breaking a rule he made for himself, and when his cum leaks out of you, hot and heavy, he only watches it, lips twitching faintly. “Waste nothing.”
But on the rare occasions he doesn’t finish inside you, when he has to pull out, because you’re sore or overstimulated or too full already; he’ll wrap a hand around himself at the last second and cum over your thighs, groaning through gritted teeth. Something about the way it drips down your skin drives him feral. His breath hitches, drunken on the sight of the mess both of you created.
There’s awe in him when he sees you like that—ruined, shivering, legs sticky with him. “Look at you,” he mutters, voice caught between worship and mockery, typical Vergil. “Greedy little thing. Always asking for more... and yet you can barely take it.”
The words aren’t cruel, not really. They come wrapped in quiet praise, veiled affection, something soft only you ever get from him. He leans down, mouth brushing your temple. And then stares at you like he always does, in a whisper so raw it almost doesn’t sound like him:
“I love it.” A pause. “I love you.”
Yeah, you have this man wrapped around your finger … or inside you.
୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: mention of unprotected sex, blood, sexual content.
⭑.ᐟ The word “responsible” did not fit into Dante’s vocabulary, it was something that would take time for the boy to understand; perhaps, according to future events. — Eventually, “trustworthy” was better; at least, he agreed.
⤷ Dante was reliable in completing his assigned works, occupations; always maintaining a high standard of excellence, never failing to commit or doing anything half-heartedly. — Enzo was a witness, and he idolized the hunter's completed works. — So, this meant that Dante couldn't pretend there wasn't dirty work to be done.
⤷ Meaning, again, that the demon hunter couldn't stay by your side, clinging to your neck, kissing and biting you and inhaling your delicious scent — or inside you — forever. — He hated it.
⭑.ᐟ By the gods that could exist, — holy shit, Dante thought — to admire, to contemplate, you in the old bed of that old-fashioned and worn-out room, sleeping, peacefully, between, at least, clean sheets — that were brought by you for your boyfriend — so beautiful and apollonian was an image of the paradise that they say exists.
⤷ Through the transparent, white fabric of the sheet, some curves of your body were witnessed by the eldest's youthful eyes; if he had the chance, he would live only to adore you. — Being led to a memory of last night; his forehead pressed against yours as he tried to utter some coherent word, and failed terribly, the irregular breaths, sensual and so libidinous sighs. — Just remembering, he felt weak, vulnerable, and making his cock throb.
⭑.ᐟ You were insatiably, relentlessly. — Driving that poor man crazy and disorienting was ridiculous, delightful, and such an aphrodisiac. — Dante had to crawl back, coerced, to his next job that Enzo had sent him; did he really need it?
⤷ Stepping on the aged, and also filthy, wood, causing a terrifying and agonizing noise, worried if you were still asleep, Dante only saw you turn your back, remaining asleep. — Now, a piece of your bare back, and the curves of your ass, perceived by the emerald eyes.
⭑.ᐟ Where had you thrown his shirt? — Dante searched, unhurriedly and with little interest or convenience, for the gray piece of clothing, which you had removed and left somewhere inconspicuous. — The demon hunter, during his search, passed by the piece of broken mirror stuck in the wall structure; it didn't hurt to pay attention to his appearance before anything else, right?
⤷ Dante's charming, lazy, and bold frown was always there, just like an incontinent and unruly mess in his white hair; nothing that could bother him. — The piece of reflective glass didn't show his entire image, so his attention was fixed on the attention on his neck with small bite marks and hickeys made by you.
⤷ On Dante's lips, a smug smile, so debauched, curved; of course he could just walk out with those traces of pleasure on the street. — Upon learning to use his regeneration suit, the cursed man would love to show it off. — You were trying to mark your territory, what a beautiful thing; well, he couldn't judge, since he performed the same action. — Displaying the visible muscles, Dante turned his body frame to see his back. — Holy shit.
⭑.ᐟ Marks, scratches from nails, had a deep presence on your boyfriend's back; thin, thick, some incomplete, but they were there. —The reddish lines, some showing thin trails of blood, against his skin were something divine. — Evidence of the pure pleasure, excitement, desire that had risen in your chest the night before; sensations that only Dante could give you, and would be the only and last one to do so. — Oh, he remembered.
⤷ Your moans, — which sounded identical to meows, melodic whimpers — were melody, harmony that Dante learned to be obsessed with. — While he was, perfectly, with his balls inside you, feeling more and more, and making him crazy with desire, your beautiful and so delicious pussy squeezing his cock, Dante knew, from the first day he looked at you, that you would be the death of him. — And he never had so much pleasure at the end of his life.
⤷ Dante was a drunk, fucked up, and needy — and also miserable — for you, for your pussy; don't blame that poor guy. — The wet, dirty, dirty noise caused by the fast thrusts was too much for you; like the stretching, which never got used to, delicious in you. — Or when you stuttered, begged, with so much affection, allowing, and sweetness for Dante to cum inside. — Dante would never deny anything to his beautiful girl.
⤷ For mercy's sake, Dante felt his dick swell, ache with excitement and throb even more as he looked at the marks.
⭑.ᐟ Now, his canines stood out in his proud smile, pure lust — experiencing an electricity of debauchery, taking on an almost feral sensation — in front of the broken mirror. — Dante did not need his regeneration with that gift.
⭑.ᐟ The beautiful kitten showed her claws, wanting to signal a territorial marking that would only be seen if Dante wanted it to be; in other cases, leaving a reminder so specific to him. — Only him.
WILL IT FIT? CAN'T FIT. DOESN'T FIT. ft. dante, nero, & vergil. (separate obv.)
when things get hot and heavy with your half-demon bf, you come across one issue - their dick won't fit.
cw ; p in v , oral (f receiving) , fingering , +18 , smut , nsfw , mdni , etc.
Dante sits back and has to take a pause. His breath was heavy, his chest rising up and down rapidly as he was trying to get his bearings. His heavy dick resting against your wet entrance.
He stretched you out a lot, at least he thought he did. You came so prettily around his fingers, tongue, and mouth. Multiple times, in fact, so feeling as how he couldn't even push his fat, angry tip past your clenched hole.
"Sweet'rt you gotta," he groaned as he adjusted himself. His tip sliding up and catching your clit making his body shudder as you bucked your hips up at the feeling. Your moans echoing off the walls, "you gotta relax," his words slurred as he tried to focus.
When it becomes obvious that he can't push anymore, he's already hiking your legs up and onto his shoulders and shoving his tongue deep into your walls. His appendage was scaling hot as you felt the wet muscle scrape against every crevice and soft spot, making you buck against his face as tears gathered at the corners of your eyes.
Doesn't fit? Hurts?
Don't worry about a thing, he's give his mouth or his fingers easily. (Even if it takes him a hot minute to understand what's going on.)
Nero is messy. And he can't seem to put his dick in you at all and doesn't stop to the point where he is uselessly humping his wet, cum-slick dick against your folds like a dog in heat.
He's hunched over you, caging you down to the bed with his weight just pressing hard against you. It was hot, it was sweaty, but it was yours. His mouth was feverish, biting, and licking, and trying to press his spit covered mouth to yours in desperate kisses as he thrusts and rolls his hips against you, your pelvic bone grinding against his crotch as his dick kept sliding between your folds, his mushroom tip catching against your tight, puckered hole and then to your puffy, abused clit.
"S'rry, mm s'rry," his words were hot and muffled against your mouth as he tried to apologize, knowing full well that he wasn't fucking into you, and couldn't stop himself for a few seconds to actually align and slip his dick in.
And when you cum on his dick, he is cumming with you in whimpers and choked out moans as his cum spurts in white, scalding hot streams on your pussy lips and dripping down the crevice of your ass and onto the bedsheets. The feeling making you whine as you arch your back and press your bare tits to his chest making him hastily squeeze your hips.
"Again. This time, I actually feel you around me."
The words, will it fit, it won't fit, can't fit, or it doesn't fit never reach Vergil. The words foreign upon his ears as when he has you on your back and two fingers plunged into your tight cunt, he could already tell that you would need to be worked open more before you could take his dick. Which was nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. All bodies were different. And sometimes it didn't matter how aroused one was or how wet their cunt is. Sometimes a pussy just needs that extra attention to it so it'll feel good for both parties.
And Vergil was more than happy to give that comfortable feeling to you, because before he even unbuckles his belt, pulls down his pants, and takes his dick out - you will be well stretched out so a cry of "it hurts" or "it doesn’t fit" never escapes your precious mouth.
"Patience."
The word echoes from his lips for a third time that night when he presses his thumb to your clit and presses down hard.
He enjoys the way you whither in his hold. His eyes raked up your sweat covered body as he denied you an orgasm seven times now.
It wasn't until your world flipped and you found yourself straddling Vergil's lap did your patience finally come through.
Vergil, always taking the time to work you open, sometimes did this. Allowed you on top as he laid back, his pants pushed down and belt undone.
"Take what you want."
You have never been on top before. Not with Vergil. But with how he worked you open and how you lined his tip with your fluttering hole, you were surprised at how easily he pushed in as you rolled your hips. A shaky gasp leaving your lips as Vergil gave you that knowing look he always seemed to have.
Yeah, with Vergil, fear of it hurting or not fitting was never a fear you ever had or will have.
𖹭 Roommate Dante walks around shirtless. Not even to show off, he's just comfortable this way. He sleeps shirtless, cook shirtless, works out in the common room shirtless.
𖹭 each time he went out of shower he loosely wrapped the towel around his hips, purposely exposing his vline leaving you some space for imagination. He'd tease you while approaching closer in that state, the smell of his shampoo and hot skin driving you crazy.
𖹭He didn't bother with knocking, just bragged into your room whenever he needed something, which resulted in walking on you while you changed countless of times. At this point he was pretty much familiar with your body curves.
𖹭 your roommate left his underwear everywhere. You had to pick up his boxers from the most random places in the apartment.
"Dante, that's literally disgusting" you picked up a pair of those that were thrown over your laptop.
"Jeez, stop being dramatic. Those are the ones that been in laundry recently. I mean I think so... Yeah..."
When it came to your underwear, whenever you hang the laundry, he can't help but take closer looks. When you weren't around he'd sometimes pick them up imagining he just took them off you.
𖹭 Dante steals food constantly. You buy snacks; they’re gone within minutes. If you ever order pizza he appears out of nowhere like a summoned demon. Each time you catch redhanded he says things like: “You weren’t eating that, right?” while already holding the last slice in his mouth. The fridge is a disaster. Half of it is strawberry sundaes, pizza boxes, energy drinks, and things you’re pretty sure expired weeks ago.
𖹭He leaves weapons everywhere. You’ll casually find a sword leaning against the couch or guns sitting on the kitchen counter like it’s normal household clutter.
𖹭 despite acting messy, he notices everything about you. Your routines, your moods or even what kind of day you had just from the way you close the front door. And that's where his affectionate side kicks in, he prepares a meal for you, gives you a massage, listen to your rants while his hand strokes your hair, his mouth whispering praises of how good you handle everything.
𖹭 flirting was waaay too normalized between you two. He'd casually call you all those petnames like "darling", "honey", even "wifey" while he watches you cooking for him through half lidded eyes. He steals your attention on purpose. If you’re focused on something, suddenly he’s talking closer, leaning against your shoulder, nudging your leg with his boot, hand brushing against your thigh.
𖹭 Dante invades personal space constantly. Leaning over your shoulder. Resting chin on top of your head. Sitting way too close. Resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. Living together meant accidental intimacy everywhere. Brushing past each other in the kitchen, he'd usually grab your waist gently to move you out of his way. Limbs tangled when you two cramped on the couch. And at times he'd even give you a playful smack on your ass whenever he passed by. That was definitely his favorite one.
𖹭 He developed this habit of touching you before speaking. Thumb brushing your wrist, hand at your lower back, tilting your chin towards him casually. He knew that way he'd get your attention.
𖹭 Dante can't stop looking at you when you wear his clothes. Especially if you walk out in one of his shirts unknowingly looking so comfortable in it. You usually didn't wear any bra under them which of course never escaped his sharp eyes. That's exactly why he loved giving you his oversized shirts. He'd often wrap his arms around your waist out of nowhere, sliding them slightly up till your breasts freely rested against his forearms.
𖹭 whenever arguments got a little more heated up he'd always find a way to flirt the way out.
"You're so pretty when you're yelling at me, babe. You can continue if it makes you feel better."
He'd pick you up and seat you on the counter standing between your legs.
"Don't look with those angry eyes at me. Makes me wanna kiss you senseless"
𖹭 he'd ask you to help him shave his stubble. You on his lap pretending you're focusing on the job entrusted, avoiding his knowing gaze while his hands roamed over your thighs and waist, sometimes "accidentally" sliding in the pocket of your shorts.
men who for some reason love to see the sight of you withering in pleasure. crying for that sweet release you are oh so desperately chasing. but the attempt is futile without him. you need him. you’ll crack without the attention required.
his favorite sight is to see your bottom in the air as your face is pressed against the pillow, drool slipping from the side of your lips, tears soaked into the fabric. your arms are tied behind you as you take every last drop of what he’s giving you. mumbling something about “this is gonna take”. all five senses are gone. the feeling of his cock drilling into you is pure bliss. every thing turns white in your mind as you feel white ropes of his seed full your cunt to the brim; some even spilling out.
“nuh uh, sweetheart.” he pulls himself out, using his two fingers to catch the stray droplets before pushing them back into your sensitive, abused hole, making your body jolt.
men who like to have you on your back after a long day at your job, perfectly placed between your legs as he ravishes your cunt like the dog he is. he’s been waiting to see the sight of your dewy cunt, waiting to hear your incoherent whine of you begging for him to slow down. but the pleas fall deaf on his ears. all he can hears are the lewd noise that your sl*tty c*nt makes on impact.
ignis , DANTE , vergil , sam drake , joe goldberg , JOEL MILLER , aki hayakawa , KISHIBE , SUKUNA , GETO , nanami , toji , leon kennedy , JASON TODD , JOHN WICK , JOHN CONSTANTINE , wolverine , plus your favs !!
