#ler!devil

OKAY I LOVE THIS PROMPT so I had to do it right away!!!! Hope you enjoy!

THE FIRST LOSS

The Devil couldn’t believe this.

Somehow, a cup had managed to interfere with his plans. And just when he thought he might have a chance to make him pay and (rightfully!) collect his soul, King Dice had lost — for the first time ever.

He was fuming, but even he knew that it wasn’t fully Dice’s fault. He’d done everything in his power to try and collect Cuphead’s soul, but things had gone wrong. Even the Devil himself had tried to re-capture Cuphead’s soul, and he hadn’t been successful. So could he really blame his right-hand man?

Of course he could.

“I heard you had your first loss today.” His tone was oddly calm, trying to lure Dice into a false sense of security. “A loss to a certain… cup.”

Dice visibly trembled, and he looked up at the Devil, sweat dripping down his face. “I… I’m sorry! But I-I tried, and I’ll do better next time, I p-promise!”

The Devil simply scoffed, twirling the pitchfork around in his hand. “Oh, I know you will… but I need to be certain.”

Dice paled. “What do you-”

He never finished his question. The Devil had pointed his golden pitchfork towards King Dice, who let out a small yelp of terror as he was pinned against the wall. Letting a satisfied smile spread across his face, the Devil manifested four more arms, holding the trident in one of his six hands as he advanced towards his right-hand man.

“You see, Dice…” The Devil slowly stepped closer and closer solely for the purpose of scaring him. “You can’t escape. This is how Cuphead should have felt, but you let him go. For that, you will suffer.”

Dice stammered out a reply that sounded like a plead, but the Devil ignored it. “It’s almost laughable, the fact that he keeps getting away. You like to laugh, don’t you, Dice?”

King Dice seemed confused for a solid five seconds before he realized what was going on. His eyes went comically wide, and he shook his head rapidly. “No, no, wait! I-I didn’t mean to let him go! It wasn’t my fAHAHAHAULT!”

The Devil wasn’t the type to go easy. His five unoccupied hands had ripped open Dice’s suit, tickling him all over. Two hands under his arms, which were conveniently pinned above his head, one on each of his sides, and one alternating between his ribs and belly. No spot was safe, and there was no moving, no squirming, no escaping. All King Dice could do was laugh uncontrollably.

“BOHOHOHOHOHOSS! IHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHO SOHOHOHOHOHORRY!” Dice had never experienced something that was this ticklish before. Sure, every once in a while, if he had a close call on a show, he’d be tickled by the Devil, but never like this… because he’d never messed up this badly before. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIT!”

The Devil almost seemed bored — in reality, he was enjoying himself, but he had to pretend for the sake of his character. “Oh, sure you can. In fact…” He continued his tickling as he turned his head to the side. “Henchman?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Get his feet.” The Devil took pleasure in the clear terror that had suddenly appeared on Dice’s face. “I’m tired of doing all the work by myself.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” Dice was losing control of his words. All he could focus on was how badly it tickled, and that sensation was overpowering.

“No?” The Devil raised an eyebrow. “Did you just tell me no?”

“WAHAHAHAHAHAHAIT! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” King Dice was turning red from both embarrassment and the unstoppable laughter. He tried to jerk his feet away from Henchman’s fingers, but he couldn’t move. He was forced to just take the tickling, unable to have a say in whether it stopped or not.

“Hm… well, I suppose I wouldn’t want my right-hand man completely out of the picture,” the Devil mused, letting out a dramatic sigh. “But I’m still not convinced that you’ll truly do better next time.”

“IHIHIHIHI WIHIHIHIHILL!” King Dice was surprised he was still able to communicate somewhat coherently through his cackling laughter. “IHIHIHI SWEHEHEHEHEHEHEAR!”

“You swear?” The Devil was dragging this out now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. “Are you sure?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHES!”

“But are you sure?”

“IHIHIHIHI’M SUHUHUHUHUHURE!”

“But are you sure you’re sure?” The Devil was smirking now.

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES!” King Dice was absolutely losing it, and the Devil could see it from a mile away.

“Oh, fine.” He retracted his extra arms and released Dice from his magical hold, causing his right-hand man to collapse to the ground, practically gasping for breath.

“Ugh, you’re so dramatic.” The words were spoken in the most dramatic tone the Devil could muster up. It was so much fun to mess with King Dice — just like deflecting his little comment about being his “number one.”

“Get up.” The Devil reached out a hand, easily pulling King Dice to his feet. “Put your shoes on, lackey. There’s work to be done, souls to be collected, dice to be tickled… oh, wait, that’s you.”

King Dice was blushing like crazy, but if he was called out on it, he would claim it was just from the tickle torture he’d just endured. “Y-yes, boss.”

The Devil grinned, poking Dice’s tummy one last time with the blunt end of his pitchfork before waving his hand to restore the previously-ripped suit back to normal. “Wonderful! Now that you’ve agreed, I can tickle you whenever I want! Wouldn’t that be a special episode of Roll the Dice?”

King Dice’s face turned even redder at the thought, although he tried (and failed) not to show it. Was he supposed to agree or disagree? He slowly nodded his head. “Yes, boss… b-but I’m gonna focus on Cuphead for now.”

The Devil smirked. “Good. Now, off you go.”

And with that, King Dice left the room with Henchman, leaving the Devil alone to gloat. Perhaps a similar ticklish punishment would work just as well on Cuphead…

sorry this is late, nonnie!! I hope it will suffice and thank you so much <33

The Games We Play

In this job, King Dice’s learned fast, there’s secrets, and then there’s secrets.

As the Devil’s right-hand man, he gets to know all kinds of dark, twisted, sordid tidbits about the inhabitants of Inkwell, the stuff they’d pay anything to keep on the down low, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a thrill out of it. But the other unexpected perk of his job is finding out all the little quirks of the big cheese himself no one else would ever suspect. Like how his fur sticks up after he’s been napping in his throne, or how he’ll let his little imps sit on his shoulder when he’s in a good mood - or even that Satan himself just so happens to be incredibly, adorably, ticklish.

Naturally, Dice takes every opportunity to exploit this particular weakness, but if he wants to keep his job - and his head - he’s gotta keep it subtle in front of the customers, tempting as it is to find out just how far he can push it. He’ll stand at the Devil’s side like a good little lackey, making sure to get his attention with a poke to the side here, a nudge in the ribs there. Just enough to get under his fur - so to speak - to see him flinch or feel him squirm as he stifles a yelp. If he’s lucky he might even catch a hint of a blush through the dark fur as the Devil glares at him, because he knows that Dice knows damn well what he’s doing; how much he loves getting him all flustered and jumpy by resting a hand on the small of his back, just out of sight so he can stroke and tease the fur there, fingers dancing dangerously close to the money spots but never quite going for it. And, well, the boss isn’t gonna risk letting his sensitive little secret slip in front of all these current and future debtors, the ones his reign of terror depends on, so all he can do is stand there and take it, struggling not to give the game away when Dice catches his eye and winks, both of them already thinking about what’s to come later.

Because it’s the later he really lives for, when they’re alone in the Devil’s office away from prying eyes and he can really deliver on all the unspoken promises. He gets to rake his fingers shamelessly through that thick, coarse fur, slowly and methodically, feeling the Devil tense in anticipation but not doing a thing to stop him before he makes his play, digging into his sides until those ironically angelic giggles burst free. He tickles him mercilessly and savours all those noises he’ll never make for anyone else; throaty cackles as he scratches his belly, joyous squeals when he scribbles under his arms, full-on bleats when he wiggles between his toes and teases the pads of his feet, all the while telling him how adorable he is like this. How cute and sweet and helpless, the big, bad king of Inkwell Hell, nothing but a ticklish little kitty. Dice’s ticklish little kitty, and he doesn’t intend on stopping until he admits it.

Pride’s a sin, and one the Devil ain’t short on, so he’ll never admit how much he likes this. How much he needs it, to be reduced to giggling putty in Dice’s skilled hands - to let himself be vulnerable, somewhere he doesn’t have to maintain his fearsome reputation. He doesn’t have to; that he even lets Dice do this and live says it all, the way he curls into him afterwards, even letting out the occasional purr as Dice strokes away the tears dampening his fur. Sure, he’ll scowl and mutter a bunch of violent yet empty threats, but they both know what he really means is thank you.

The game doesn’t end there, of course - this is the goddamned Devil. Revenge will come just as Dice’s starting to let his guard down, in the form of six or more deadly arms, pinning him down or holding him up, wriggling under or tearing through his suit to attack every vulnerable area at once, but always paying extra special attention to those two pips on the bottom of his head that are so unbearably sensitive they have him gasping and wheezing, struggling to even beg for mercy with the Devil’s breath hot against his cheek reminding him just who is whose li’l tickle toy here, and he’ll make damn sure he doesn’t ever forget it.