Demon Pfp Novels & Stories

Kent grunted. "Kent, ugh where in god's good name are we?" Yuuno moaned. The Demon smirked. "It would seem that you two have returned to my domain… It would seem." Yuuno saw the Demon's form for the first time as a mixture of a werewolf and a Dragon. The Demon stood as 11 foot and 9 inches tall, with jet black scales and fangs of silver. His eyes burned a bright drowning in the blood of the guilty, the demon had 7 horns 3 upon the sides of his head and the other upon his forehead shaping it into a crown of thorns.

There's a wide room with a matching window that has the scene of the ocean beyond a small meadow and a small group of trees to the right. There are two chairs and one round high coffee table between. Two people sit, one you know, one you don't. At least not from this story. "So," says Cayce, "I'll introduce myself first. But since this is the end of my book then you probably know about me enough. Cayce Vance, eighteen. Married around now, ready for some action, and half-demon and half-angel hybrid."

This should not be happening. "What's the matter, Warrior? Did my little scratch hurt?" the demon cackled, his voice like breaking glass. "Not as safe as you thought you were, eh?" The demon laughed some more, pleased with his ambush. Rhychard glared at the creature, the demon's arms waving in every direction as his eight-foot frame continued to prance around the parking lot. Vargas attempted to look human, a weakness of his, which Rhychard never understood. The demon wore a black shirt, which covered his long arms and slender chest, and black pants that seemed like something from a fantasy novel. Vargas couldn't stuff his talons into his shoes any more than a bird could, and the curved nail

Stella suddenly gets all excited. “Do you want the boiled egg, Stella?” Beth asks. Stella jumps around and wags her tail in my head, then smiles and behaves. Beth hands us the boiled egg, and I eat it. I’m not usually fond of boiled eggs, but it seems to make Stella happy. “How did you know what she likes to eat? I didn’t even know that.” “My twin brother has a demon wolf. I’ve done a lot of research on it. Demon wolves often die young, and I want him to be able to have a full life.”

The Demon King leaned back, one leg slung over the armrest, grinning down at me with a slow, cruel smile. He was red-skinned and powerfully built and his body seemed to have been carved from molten stone. Two curved horns rose from his brow and black hair darker than night itself flowed down his back. A short, trimmed beard traced his jaw, but what caught my attention the most was the fact that he was... NAKED? “What in the fuck?” I muttered under my breath as I placed my hands over my eyes, trying to avoid the eye of the monster in between his legs. "Where the hell are your clothes?”

“They’re happy. They’re not suffering, and they don’t have any troubles. “They only belong to me. “This is art! It’s perfect art!” He was completely insane. It was completely inhumane. He had turned these young women into his personal toys. I looked at those young women. They were only in their early twenties. Their lives were just starting. However, they were trapped in this dungeon. I recalled what Charlie had said. “The pretty lady fell asleep after the jab, just like sleeping beauty.” It turned out that this was what he was referring to. I felt very sad. I was sad for these young women and this despicable world.

Straight to the point I see. “I didn’t like the on going idea of me leaving here without saying much, I see you most days anyways”. I shrug averting my gaze. Looking back we stare at one another. It seems we tend to do that often. “How do humans do these things anyways? get to know one another.” “Humans?” She repeats with a brow lifted and a half smile. Should I just spit it out? She probably won’t believe me anyways. I sit back in my seat and open my legs widely and take a deep breath emitting boredom. “I’m a demon.”

There’s something electric in the air—something that wasn’t here a moment ago. “How long has it been since you last saw each other?” I ask, pretending to be indifferent. “Ten years,” says Demon. “Or more,” John adds, toasting. “And he’s still as much of an idiot.” “And you, just as bossy, Blackwood.” They laugh. I sip. I observe. John is steel. Elegant, controlled, with that dangerous calm of someone who never loses. Demon… Demon is something else. A wildfire with a smile. A leap without net. His clothes are wrinkled, hair messy, and yet—or precisely because of that—I can’t stop staring.

And he did so. “Aralyn, I will take off your handcuffs now to enable you to eat. Trust is a two-way road. Can I trust you?“. I nodded my head, and he did as promised. I sat upright and finished the meal with lord-knows-what-kind of the demon in silence. The silence was pleasant, unlike the plans that unfolded in my head. I almost felt sorry for demon-doctor-shaman-healer whatsoever, guy. Speaking of which, why do all of them look so hot, goddammit? Shouldn’t demons look like humpbacks with ulcers and horns and, I don’t know, that kind of crap? Apart from their shitty personalities, all of them were well-built and muscled with faces like they were deities and not evil-to-the-core-demons. This

After all, I ran away from home to be exposed before I returned to Mom's cage. "Come here," he ordered. Like a robot being controlled with a remote, I took one step after another until I was just an inch away from him. I felt so small, standing this close to him. How can he be sexy and tall at the same time? I won't say he's God's favourite because he has so much blood on his hands. Demon was created by the devil. "Touch me, Papillon," he said softly, a dangerous softness that slid right under my skin. "I want your hands on me."