Small Mischievous Devil Novels & Stories

Back when they were twelve, Michael had been briefly fascinated with the tarot and had gone on about it for weeks. It was the fifteenth trump of the major arcana, The Devil. Though this one was marked as Le Diable. It was a much cruder drawing from ones he had seen before. While still sporting the goatish mane and horns, the devil also had prodigious breasts and a massive phallus. There was a blue face in the devil’s midsection sticking its tongue out. Two chained demons, one male, one female, lay at a round pedestal at his feet.

People really need to stop scarring them using my name, it's getting pretty annoying to see kids freeze up if not run away whenever I try to interact with them. My bladder decides to fill, putting my search for Lauriana and Karla at a halt. I take three minutes if notfine in the bathroom, mostly checking my makeup and retoufhing it to perfection. Stepping out the bathroom, I'm met by the devil, they say I'm the devil. One hand in his pocket, the other against the wall, a custom watch I had designed specifically for him strapped on his wrist. I hate snarl, people call me the devil but he has long earned the title since childhood.

He's the kind you run away from. If only my hormones would listen. A little bit of late night research yesterday showed me that Leone is the scariest thing to ever exist in this city. But what is even scarier than that? Nursing an unexplainable and worrying amount of chemistry with a man popularly known as "the Devil" by the criminal underworld. And for good reason too. He is as ruthless as they come, with a penchant for perfection that shows in all his assassinations, sporting a huge amount of political influence as a mafia boss that is crazy to begin to contemplate, as well as the kind of good looks to make any woman want to sin. Badly.

“Of course he does. The Devil always does.” He blinked at her, unsure if she was joking. She leaned in slightly, adjusting the collar near his neck as she whispered, “Listen to me, cher garçon. The Devil cannot be understood, nor can he be coerced. You may think he loves, you may think he destroys, but really, it is all the same to him. It is all just… instinct.” Her eyes flicked toward Kain, who was now idly folding a page from one of his documents into neat, exact creases. “Keep your guard, mon ange. Always. You will be fine if you remember that.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “I think they are unaware of this, too!” I whispered, recalling how my friends had proven themselves trustworthy time and again. But then, the gravity of her words hit me. “Wait! So you’re telling me that the devil has a brother?” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Make no mistake, sweetie, that Darklord is no devil, well yeah devil is the most… what should I say? The devil is the most devilish in the entire world, but he doesn’t have time to run after a specific girl.

His voice drops into a dark, lethal tone that carries to every single corner of the silent chapel. "You know what they say, Pierre… the devil always comes to collect..."

He turns the stairs wondering if Christian will run down to sit beside his now awake sister but after a few seconds he reclines more to the thought that he might be sleeping. He turns to them again and then nods to acknowledge Laurel as she gulps, nodding back…soft but acknowledging. He opts to sit beside Gabriel, now facing the family with a questionary eye. The devil and the healer. Feels like judgment day. “Hi, Laurel, do you know who I am?” he leans forward after getting a reassuring nod from Gabriel. Laurel nods.

Confused and bewildered, I asked“How’s that fair?” “Haven’t life yet taught you that nothing is fair, Piccolo diavolo.” His voice was so soft like a caress. I wonder which version of him was his true self. I questioned, “What does it mean?” “Little devil.” I pressed my lips, felt myself relax a little. “And, here I thought I was a perfect little angel.” “I am happy you aren’t...”

"But I am wishing that they will." "That would be one hell of a miracle if it happened," the devil commented. "He’s a demon who swore to hate love, you see." "I know," she said, nodding. "But you forgot who Rhian is. She’s a bad bitch that everyone can’t handle." "Just like you?" "Yeah," she cheekily grinned. "Zin, let’s go home; I hate this weird atmosphere."

They were all those things until I saw their other side. It was never my intention to cross paths with the devil. I was only a naïve nineteen year old, living a life that circulated around fame and money. Then, out of the blue, the devil came for me, or should I call him The King— which is a name he prefers to be addressed as. He showed up on a calm evening, and turned my entire life upside down; he turned it into a disaster. He put me under his spell, making me fall deeper and deeper into his sinful charm. Then at the end, when he had gotten all that he needed from me, he devoured.