The Devil Is A Part Timer Doujinshi Novels & Stories

"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.

“It's not possible, I was born with it but it took me years to master it, I don't think this stranger has what it takes to control it.” “I wasn't talking about the stranger, I was talking about what lies within,” she defended. I rolled my eyes. I wouldn't be surprised he was the one that tried to kill me, we have never been on the same page for years. Dorian turned to her, frowning. “But why did it come? That wasn't part of the ritual,was it?* “No,” she admitted. “But the devil Alpha was created to stop evil, it must have sensed the black magic and it came to do its work.”

Hema bit her lip to keep from crying out. Without warning, Zayden seized her wrist and dragged her towards the bed, his grip unyielding. He pushed her onto the mattress, caging her beneath his formidable frame. The sheets thrashed about as she struggled to cover herself, but he would have none of it. Zayden's mouth descended upon her breast, his teeth grazing the tender skin. Hema cried out, the sting of pain morphing into an unwanted surge of pleasure. He nibbled and bit, marking her flesh as his own, a perverse brand of possession.

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.

His short tousle brown hair, Greyish blue eyes, sexy lips that begs to be kissed, and he don’t seem much shorter than the other guy. “Hey Angel, you’re finally back.” “Yeah, sorry about that but I was stopped a couple of times.” “Hi Angel, my name is Legion and the guy other there is Leviathan, but I know he’ll let you call him Levi. Alright Angel, while Tequila will be keeping me some company, and so that’ll mean you get Levi all to yourself.”

“Even after I’ve filled you three times today.” Adrian moaned loudly, pushing back to meet every thrust. His hole was slick and swollen, leaking Luca’s cum from earlier, but it still clenched greedily around his thick cock. Luca leaned over him, chest pressed to Adrian’s back, and bit down on his shoulder. “You love this, don’t you? Being used by the devil while the world hunts us.” “Yes,” Adrian gasped. “God yes.”

The timer on the screen read: 23:47. Claire’s muffled scream echoed through the speakers as the blade pressed closer, drawing a thin line of blood. Elena’s world narrowed to that single image. The man who had just killed for her, who had confessed his year-long obsession, now stood at her side as the real cost of their twisted union stared back at them in high definition. The devil’s contract had just claimed its first true casualty, and the night was far from over.

“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.”

Within minutes, the room had quieted, now holding only three people: Denis, Simon, and Liam. Denis turned his chair, settling in the leather seat at the far corner of the room. With a flick of his lighter, he lit another cigarette and leaned back, exhaling a slow, calculated stream of smoke. “Put up the screen. Let’s see the history on the girl,” he said, fingers lightly tapping the armrest. “We’ve gathered all the details we could,” Simon nodded toward Liam, who took the cue. The screen at the end of the room flickered to life. The lights dimmed slightly, drawing all eyes to the projection. The first image was simple—yet deeply telling.

DOOM’S POV My shoulder still throbbed like a bastard, but I refused to let it show. I swapped my usual suits for a simple black shirt and a pair of tailored shorts, unbuttoned just enough to tease. It was warm tonight, and Sally liked casual Doom, something about seeing the devil without armor made her smile, maybe because it made her feel closer. The dining room lights were dimmed low, casting a golden warmth across the mahogany table. Candlelight flickered beside the fine china, and soft instrumental jazz hummed from the walls. I had told the staff to stay far away, tonight was ours.