willows-wysteria - Tumblr blog

willows-wysteria · 13 days ago

Text

very short personal dante headcanons about his dating life

✝ dante is grey aroace to me. i just don't think he focuses on romantic or sexual relationships in his life. 75% because of trauma and 25% because he just doesn't really care.

✝ that being said, i do not think he's stereotypically unexperienced either. i think he's suave and smooth, but beyond flirting and casual swings i'm certain he doesn't know what to do

✝ if he were to get with someone, he wouldn't get with someone who isn't as unhinged as him. no, he'd get with someone who can fight him, someone who is close to equal in power and can keep themselves safe if demons were to attack.

✝ he also wouldn't be with someone who is clingy. sorry but i genuinely think it'd piss him off if he wanted to pursue them seriously. i'm not saying he doesn't want a partner that worries over him sometimes or scolds him if he does something idiotic. i'm talking someone who hangs from his arm constantly and whose only personality is doting on him and can't really speak for themselves (aka he has to introduce them and they always look at him with puppy eyes when they are the one being asked a question like it's his job to answer)

#devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dante dmc #.banner by me

17 notes · View notes

willows-wysteria · 26 days ago

Text

Red Hot, Ice Cold

.synopsis ✰ When fists fly and sparks catch, something's bound to burn. With a gun pointed to Dante's head you suddenly get a different idea of how to win.

.featuring ✰ Dante x GN!Reader

.warnings ✰ Violence

You slammed the stairwell door open, the sound of your boots clacking against the concrete floor echoing through the hollow garage. The lights above you were emitting a low buzzing sound as they flickered. Blood — some yours, most not — dripped from your face and arms.

Dante was right behind you, his laugh bouncing off the walls, and you could almost feel a blood vessel pop in your forehead.

“What a show!” He chuckled, clearly not bothered about the situation that had just occurred. You spun around and gave him a sharp glare that could kill.

“Fun?! You call that shit fun?!” You exclaimed, your voice louder than you expected. “You dragged me through three floors of demon bait without a plan!”

“Worked out, didn’t it?” He said, flipping Rebellion back to its sheath on his back. “We’re still kickin’.”

“Yes — barely!” You snapped at him, “You didn’t even look before you charged in like some invincible, sword-swinging jackass!” Your voice was hoarse and dry. This idiot of a man is easily going to be the death of you.

Dante let out a low whistle and placed his hands on his hips, giving you his signature smile that currently felt more like a shit-eating grin that was making fun of you. “Woah, looks like someone is cranky!”

Suddenly, all you could see was red — and it definitely wasn’t because of the crusted demon blood on your face. You lunged forward, grabbing Dante by his collar and slamming him into the nearest concrete pillar. The whole impact made the building shudder. He let out a grunt of surprise, not fear. He was amused, his face saying — ‘of course you would try that’. Dante caught your wrist mid-swing, nails digging deep into your skin, grinding bone against bone. You growled, clenching your jaw and pushing through the pain. With your free hand, you unsheathed your knife and pressed it against the side of Dante’s throat. Icy tendrils snaked across his skin as the demon arm glowed, the cold stinging against his fiery skin. And finally, finally, his cocky grin slipped.

His voice dipped low. “So that’s how we’re doing it?”

You pressed the blade harder, close enough that you saw the skin beneath it redden and crack. But Dante's grip tightened too, fingers locked like iron, crushing your wrist until you felt your bones threaten to snap. You gasped; whether it was from pain or frustration, you weren't sure.

Then, he twisted.

White-hot pain shot up your shoulder like lightning. Your knife clattered to the ground. You let out a raw scream and stumbled, off-balance. Dante took this as his opening — he slammed forward, shoulder first, and drove you back towards the wall.

He was too close. Too fast. Too strong.

His full weight bore down on you, pinning you. You struggled, breathing hard, back aching under the pressure of his body caging yours. He got you.

If this had been a real fight — one meant to kill — you'd be dead already.

But it wasn't.

And you weren't done yet.

You grit your teeth, drop your weight, and twist. It was as if your body moved on instinct. Fast and brutal. You drove your knee into the side of his leg with all your might. You felt a jolt ripple through your thigh as he buckled. Another strike — this time a low, sweeping kick. Dante went down.

He hit the ground with a crack, skull bouncing off the concrete. The sound echoed like a gunshot through the abandoned building.

You stood over him, chest heaving, hands trembling. He wasn't moving — not yet, at least. You knew it wouldn't last. He'd be back on his feet in mere seconds.

But you didn't need seconds.

In one smooth motion, you dropped to your knees, straddling his legs, pistol drawn and levelled at his forehead. You clicked off the safety, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Gotcha,” you breathed, lips curling into a grin.

Dante doesn’t say anything, his icy cold stare studying you. The garage is dead quiet; the only sounds are the humming of the overhead lights and the drip… drip… drip… of blood hitting concrete. Your ears ring from the fight, and your whole body buzzes — electric, twitchy, like your nerves haven't realised the fight’s over. The stench of copper and sulfur overwhelms you, clinging to your lungs. You swallow hard, bile rising.

He stays quiet. You can hear his heart beating. Yours too.

Your grip on your pistol falters just slightly.

You should move. You should get up. You should say something snide, something that ends this stupid standoff and keeps the upper hand intact. But your muscles refuse to listen. You can’t say anything, not when he stares at you like that. Not smug, not cocky — just… watching you. Unreadable.

Heat rises to your chest as you recall the fight that happened minutes ago. How close you were, your back against the wall. Dante’s body pressed against yours, and the tension that was sparking between you two.

You try to shake the thoughts out of your head, you have to speak up, anything to break the deafening silence.

You finally speak, barely a whisper, “You're an idiot.”

Dante's lips twitch, not exactly a smile. “Takes one to know one.”

Without really thinking, you grab him by the front of his coat and smash your mouths together. It’s a hot, rough kiss that involves teeth clashing against each other and blood mixing with saliva. His breath gets caught in his throat, and then he's kissing you back just as hard. Like he's been waiting for this moment the whole damn time.

Dante's hands find your waist, anchoring you against him, fingers digging into the curves of your side like he's still trying to win the long forgotten fight.

The pistol falls from your grasp and hits the floor with a dull clack, something neither of you notices.

It's not until a deep, low growl echoes through the garage that you two break the kiss.

You sigh. “Guess foreplay’s over.”

Dante’s grin returns in full. "Don't worry. We can pick up where we left off later.”

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc x reader #dante x reader #devil may cry x reader #dante sparda x reader #dante x you #.divider by cafekitsune

79 notes · View notes