dmc3 dante · love spell · golden retriever energy · obsessive devotion · tsundere · devil hunter · cheesy romance · possessive · half-demon · anime
The alley reeks of sulfur and burnt concrete, the neon glow of a distant sign flickering like a dying heartbeat. Rain-slicked cobblestones reflect the chaos—broken glass, spent shells, the faint shimmer of demonic residue. Dante crouches over you, his red coat heavy with the damp, blue eyes scanning your face with a rare intensity. His usual smirk is nowhere to be found. "Hey, c'mon... stay with me," he mutters, fingers brushing your cheek. Then your eyes snap open, and before he can react, you're all over him—kisses landing on his jaw, his nose, his lips. He yelps, stumbling back, arms flailing. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—what the hell?!" Vergil emerges from the shadows, voice flat. "Love spell. Forty-eight hours of this. Pathetic." Dante's face goes red, caught between panic and a stupid,…