Devil May Cry 5 Dante Devil Trigger Novels & Stories

he clapped his hands. “You wish” I said and hissed again with veins on my neck popping out. “Ewww” Dante turned to the door and his back was the view I got. He took two steps forward and stopped, “I hope that you are very sure of accepting the real devil because this is just a tip of an iceberg” he called out. “Huh! You haven't done enough?” I asked. “I am just getting started,” he said and walked out of the room. ***

“She will be mine forever. Fifty million dollars.” My eyes flew open. Dante stood at the edge of the VIP balcony, black tuxedo immaculate, no mask needed because everyone knew that face. He held his paddle high, expression calm as if he were bidding on a vintage car instead of a human life. Relief crashed through me first—sharp, dizzying. Dante. The devil I knew. The one who threatened fingers and teeth but had never once touched me like those men wanted to. Then fear followed, cold and twisting. Forever. Not one night. Not an evening’s toy. Forever.

His dick left my pussy with a wet smack, cock gleaming with my cum. He dragged the slick head of his dick up my body, painting a glossy line from my navel to my tits. My out of control, panting, spasming body looked on helplessly as his dick closed in on my tits. His face was scrunched up in desperate hunger. “Hold your tits, angel,” the devil grunted. "Daddy won't be long." I cupped my breasts obediently, clinging to them as my body ripped itself to pieces right before him.

The room tilts. “What did you just say?” Devon tilts his head. “Your brother held my ankle on that battlefield. Begged me to save him while the light bled out of his eyes. I let him bleed. It was… satisfying.” The scream that rips out of me isn’t human. I launch myself at him. My hands close around his throat, nails digging into skin, thumbs crushing his windpipe. His glass hits the floor and shatters. “You devil!” I snarl, squeezing until my knuckles go white. “You fucking devil, you killed him!”

He held a syringe filled with a familiar, glowing liquid. “Time to reset the simulation, Dante,” Silas said. “But don’t worry. We’ll make Ivy even more defiant next time. It makes the 'Lethal Devotion' so much more... delicious when it finally snaps.” The chapel began to dissolve, the stone walls turning into lines of green code. Dante grabbed Ivy, his grip desperate, his eyes wide with a sudden, crushing terror. “Ivy, don’t let go!” he screamed. “I’m real! This—us—this is real!”

"Hmm, yes, no matter who he is, he can't actually be a devil, right? Tanya asked back as she didn't know why Lydia was acting that way about the devil. "The devil, a man who came from the deepest part of hell, a man whose face as beautiful as that of adonis, his body cannot be more perfect, his voice as deep and enticing as an angels voice, but personality like the devil. His smile can freeze one's heart and may even cause the person to die. It is rumoured that those who had seen that sinister smile either had fallen into a tragic trauma or better still died tragically. The devil is no other than Alexander quinn.

Halsey watched as Dwight stepped forward, yanking the Stormborn Devil away with a powerful motion. The Stormborn Devil quickly regained his composure and snarled, his face twisting in rage. "You brat! How dare you ruin my fun!" With that, the Stormborn Devil swung a punch at Dwight. Dwight, agile and quick, effortlessly dodged the blow and retaliated with a punch to the Stormborn Devil's stomach. With a loud bang, the Stormborn Devil crashed into the side of the car, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

He shifted, leaned back, legs spread wider, one boot tapping the floor with lazy rhythm. “I’m sure you’ve heard of The Devil,” he said. His voice was smooth. Deep. Too calm. It wasn’t the kind of voice that threatened you. It was the kind that made promises you knew would come true, even if they were the kind to make your skin crawl. I blinked. “Only the one from the Bible.” He chuckled. Low. Warm. Wrong. “Are you religious, Luca?” He said my name. It sounded like silk being pulled tight against my throat.

Subject line: “You Asked for the Devil” The file was massive. Raphael stood behind me, watching as I clicked open layer after layer. Lucian Damian Devlin. Born in Austria. Raised in Switzerland. Fluent in five languages. Educated in private institutions under aliases. Trained in weapons, finance, manipulation. Current occupation: CEO of Devlin Global Holdings. Unofficially: Heir and now head of the Devlin Cartel — a billion-dollar empire of drugs, trafficking, and global political influence. I scrolled, the blood draining from my face.

No humanity, just hunger. “You’re him,” she whispered. “The Devil of the Underworld.” He bowed his head slightly, a mockery of courtly manners. “Dante Moretti. Though most only whisper my name.” Her heart pounded. Dante Moretti wasn’t just a crime lord—he was a myth. A monster in a designer suit. A man with more blood on his hands than the war itself. Rumors said he didn’t age, didn’t bleed, didn’t sleep. That he struck deals in shadows, and those who betrayed him were never found again. Or if they were, it was in pieces.