Devilman Crybaby Novels & Stories

he said with his voice filled with lust, continuing to rub his hand over my wet pants. As he attempted to unbuckle my pants, I cried bitterly, but my pleas were muffled by his hand over my mouth. At that moment, I fervently wished Deimon hadn't left me. As Chris tried to rip apart my panties, I closed my eyes, bracing for excruciating pain but suddenly, a hand grabbed hold of his neck, making him choke. To my surprise, I saw Deimon's face in the dim light emitted by the candle. He took deep breaths, teeth gritted against each other, blood in his eyes as he glared at Chris, who struggled to free himself from Deimon's tight hold.

Hema had once worn this. Zayden had held that broken body in his arms, blood soaking into his shirt, sticking to his skin. The sound he made then—a raw, animalistic cry—had haunted every wall of that accident site. Even the hardened men who stood watch nearby lowered their eyes. It was the first time anyone had seen the mafia king weep. He had held her tight even though her body was already stiff. His hands were covered in her blood, but he didn’t care. He cradled her like something holy had just been broken in front of him.

“Like this? And do you like your punishment?” “I—uhm, please—“ “Speak to me, Iris. Tell me you won’t let anyone touch your body, and if they do, you report to me right away.” “Okay!” I cried out, arching for him. What kind of fucked up bastard does this? Damon Vyon was the devil himself. Believe me, it is true. Because it was only someone as evil as the devil that would punish his captive, a girl, with a gun in her vagina.

“I’m going to bury myself inside of you until you collapse from exhaustion!” Inner Devil: ‘Ahhh! I want! I want!’ Inner Devil 2: ‘What? I guess it’s time to schedule my funeral. I’m dying a happy woman! Someone tell my parents, I lived a fruitful life!’

“It burns deep. Eats through flesh. Bone. Muscle. You’ll still be alive. You’ll wish you weren’t.” The driver shook his head, finally whimpering. “No… no…” “Oh,” I said, voice ice. “Now you talk?” “No, please—please—don’t—” I poured one drop onto his thigh. He convulsed. The skin sizzled. Bubbled. Smoke rose. The smell was horrific. His screams weren’t human anymore. I walked to the sink, rinsed my hands, and dried them carefully. Damon chuckled again. “He’s crying now.”

“Playing dead’s exhausting, I just hope doom called me here to put an end to all this." "Count yourself lucky." Kelvin muttered. "All you had to do was lay low and keep your mouth shut. Me? I am a fucking walking corpse, all because I dated Sally." Frank chuckled. "You are saying you are working for Doom now? I thought it was a one time thing." "Working for him?" Kelvin scoffed. "Try surviving him. He made me break up with Sally the minute he found out we were dating. I didn’t care, I mean I was already screwing Pamela behind her back."

DANTE'S POV People call me the Devil of New York. They're not wrong. I've killed men for less than a dirty look. I've gutted rats who thought they could steal from me. I've fucked women who begged for mercy and made them beg for more pain instead. My empire runs on blood, loyalty, and fear. That's the only language this rotten world understands. And tonight, I reminded everyone of it. Crawford thought he could play me. Thought he could borrow money from my syndicate, promise returns, and then ghost like I'm some dumb fuck banker. No. You don't spit in my face and walk away.

I wanted him to feel every ounce of pain he had inflicted on my angel. “Fuck,” Matteo muttered. I held the extracted eyeballs and turned to the second man. “Hold him steady, Luca. Keep his head still.” The man continued to cry and begged me to have mercy on his soul, but the demon inside me had no mercy, only hunger and an insatiable thirst for vengeance. “Open your mouth,” I snarled. He shook his head, trembling as tears streamed down his face. “I said, open your fucking mouth,” I repeated.

"What is that stuff you're always drinking, anyway? “What are you drinking?” He didn't reply. “Isn't it that wine that tastes like dirt?” He said nothing again as he took a slow sip, his blue eyes locked on mine over the rim and then he slowly lowered the wine. "No,” he said, “it's blood," his expression was completely, unnervingly serious I just stared at him for a whole second. Then I burst out laughing. A real, loud, can't-help-it laugh. "Oh, that's rich. Seriously? You know, for a guy with all the charm of a gargoyle, you've got a killer deadpan."

I cried, tears pouring down my face. “Shut up and take it,” Damien growled, thrusting harder. “You’re our toy now. This cunt exists to be ruined.” They started fucking me together perfectly synchronized, both cocks slamming into my stretched pussy at the same time. The fullness was overwhelming. I was sobbing and moaning, completely lost between pain and pleasure as they used my body like a cheap fleshlight. Lucian gripped my throat while Damien spanked my ass red. “Look at her,” Lucian laughed darkly. “Crying like a broken little human while her pussy creams all over two vampire cocks.”