Dante knew his species was a little challenging, a little confusing.

He was a half incubus. An incubus disguised as a human, living on earth with his human mother and also half incubus brother - after his father had sealed off the human world from the Demon World to prevent harms way coming into the defenseless world of mankind.

Then, disaster struck, and somehow demons did manage to infiltrate earth.

So now he’s using the sword his father has left him, protecting whatever and whoever he could from his own kind. Does this count as going against his own kind? Probably. But did he care? No. It’s what his father would want, anyways.

But even as a human, once a Incubus - always a Incubus. He still had the horns peaking out, the tail - and occasionally, the claws if he really wanted to let himself go. He can easily transform of his true form too - the longer, sharper claws, larger horns and sharp wings - he can’t always stay human. A part of his Incubus form always sticks with him.

Not that he cares. Who cares about what people think? His life - not theirs. Why do they care?

Though, even as a Incubus, he doesn’t really get that itch for love or affection like other Incubus’s. It’s not something he always has in mind. Maybe he thinks about it sometimes - but it’s usually always just forgotten at the end of the day.

Then he met you as a new member of Devil May Cry, and his Incubus instincts kicked up immediately.

Didn’t even bother hiding it. He was onto you - latched onto you like the two of you were stuck together with glue. Solo missions? Sorry - he’s coming with you. Out somewhere? He’s coming with you, too. You need something? Stay there, he’s getting it for you.

He was a little whipped - sure, but in his defense, his human side loved you too. You were everything to him - you’ve been there, didn’t judge or anything - you were just .. there. And that’s all he needed to know to confirm that you were the one for him.

“what’cha working on?” He hums - standing behind your chair, looking over you - trying to see whatever you had your hands full on.

His hands rest on the back of your chair, watching the way your fingers graze over his prized weapons, his gúns - Ebony and Ivory - and Rebellion, carefully cleaning them after a mission. He had always appreciated when you cleaned his weapons. ‘they become shinier’, he responds whenever you ask why he wants you specifically to clean his weapons.

“how sweet of you. always so diligent in cleaning em’,” a grin tugs the corners of his lips - hearing the way you grumble quietly at his words.