#the devil x reader

[macabrebatz]

THE DARE (The Devil/Reader)

OR IN OTHER WORDS: HOW YOU MET THE DEVIL

Summary: Your friends dare you to talk to a stranger in the mall. Little did you know they were sending you right into the arms of the Devil.

Author’s Note: So I had a dream about the Devil from the movie Haunt and I took it as my sign to finally write about him (just as I promised). I basically just expanded on the dream I had. I’ve been craving fluff about him. I don’t care if him being sweet is out of character, it’s what I want right now lol. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings/notes: the reader’s friends are kinda mean, but they come around, gender neutral reader, first meetings, conversations about body modifications, strangers to lovers, fluff

It all started about two months ago with a dare. A stupid, small one that you didn’t think much of at the time.

It was one of those rare occasions where all of you had a day off from work at the same time. You hadn’t seen your friends in a while and the three of you ended up at your local mall to catch up.

It had been a Sunday afternoon. The mall was a bit busier than usual, full of people trying to savor every minute of the day before Monday came. You and your friends stopped at almost every open shop, mostly window shopping, except for one of your friends who was a certified shopaholic. Her bags were accumulating with every stop.

Eventually, all of you were a bit worn out from walking, taking seats in the food court to eat and chat.

You had known your friends, Becca and Dylan, for years. You had first met them in high school. They were nowhere near perfect but they were the two that had stuck by your side the longest, your friendship enduring all of the ups and downs of adulthood as the three of you entered your careers.

“Do you really need all that?” Dylan said with a mouthful of pizza, looking down at all of Becca’s shopping bags.

“Nope. But I want all of it,” she said, smiling.

“You have a problem,” Dylan joked.

He took another bite of pizza and looked over at you, nudging you with his hand.

“What’s up with you? You’re quiet today,” he said.

You shook your head.

“Nothing, I’m just thinking is all,” you said.

“Something is always going on in that head of yours. What exactly are you thinking about?” he questioned.

“How exhausted I am from work. And how I haven’t had a decent date in years,” you mumbled.

“I told you I could hook you up with Be-“

“I’m not going out with your work buddy. He creeps me out,” you said.

“Just letting you know that the offer is still there,” he shrugged.

Dylan turned his attention back to Becca who was staring at something away from the table. He turned, trying to follow her line of sight but couldn’t tell what she was looking at.

Dylan turned back around and waved his hand in her face.

“Girl, who are you staring at?” he asked.

“Look at that guy,” Becca said, pointing to a table near the edge of the food court.

You and Dylan turned to look. At the table sat a bald man covered in facial tattoos. He had spiked piercings running down his jaw and forehead. He was sitting alone although you quickly noticed that there was another tray of food beside his own, presumably from someone who had stepped away for a moment.

“A face only a mother could love. Am I right?” Dylan joked, raising his hand for a high five.

“I am not high-fiving you for that shit. That’s not nice,” you mumbled.

“That’s not nice,” he mocked.

He turned to look at you and then back at the tattooed man.

“Why don’t you go be nice then?” Dylan said, gesturing towards the man.

You looked at him confused.

“What?” you asked.

“You were just complaining about being single. Go talk to him,” he said.

“You really want them to go talk to the devil incarnate?” Becca chimed in.

“God, you two are mean today,” you scoffed.

“Why not? He won’t bite…I hope. Besides, I dare you,” Dylan said.

“You dare me? Really?” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Too chicken to go talk to a guy? It’s okay. You can admit it,” he said, antagonizing you.

“I am not,” you huffed.

Dylan stuck his hand out in front of him, almost like he was presenting the man at the table.

“Prove it. Go get his number,” he said.

You weighed your options, glancing over at the man, before standing up. You hardly ever approached guys. You felt nervous but also slightly competitive, wanting to prove your friend wrong.

You hesitantly walked through the tables, maneuvering your way around the people in the court. You could hear Dylan clap behind you but you chose to ignore it as you approached the man sitting at the table.

“Um, hi,” you said, walking up to the table.

The man turned his head to look at you. Up close you could get a better look at him. His face was heavily modified. The entirety of his eyes were black. He had his eyebrow pierced on one side. His tattoos that covered his face above his mouth were only filled in one side. You couldn’t tell if it was intentional or just not finished.

“Hello. Can I help you?” he said.

God, his voice was deep. You had never heard a voice as deep as his. It sent shivers down your spine.

“I just…wanted to ask about your piercings,” you said.

It wasn’t exactly the truth but it wasn’t exactly a lie either. It’s not like you were going to tell the man you approached him on a dare.

A small smirk crept up on his lips.

“What would you like to know?” he asked.

And that’s what started it all.

You ended up sitting and talking with him for much longer than expected. The more he talked, the more curious you got.

He told you about his piercings, about the pain. About his tattoos and his pointed ears. About his blackened eyes, which you learned were in fact tattooed as well. You found it all far more fascinating than you previously thought.

Eventually, the conversation came to an end when another man, heavily pierced and scarred, came up to the table, telling the other it was time to go.

“Give me a call sometime. Or better yet, come visit me.”

You had walked away that day with a card. A simple business card for a body modification shop with the man’s phone number scribbled on the back of it, right underneath the printed business number.

Dylan and Becca had been in shock. They didn’t know what was more surprising, the fact that you had gotten his number or the fact that the next week you were being given a tour of the body mod shop he helped run.

A small dare had sent you right into the arms of the Devil.

Becca still called him that. She didn’t even bother to learn his name.

Anytime she was around she would ask you things like, “Going to see the Devil tonight?” or “Are you still messing around with the Devil?”.

The joking stopped once she realized that you were seriously falling for him. She didn’t get it and neither did Dylan, he was far from either of their types, but they were happy for you nonetheless.

Flash forward to now, two months from the day you two met and you were practically living with him.

The two of you were sprawled out on the couch, you curled up on his chest, resting your head under his chin.

His hand ran back and forth on your back, gentle and soft.

The TV was quiet, playing some random show you both had settled on.

“I’d love to tattoo you one of these days,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet room.

His hand drifted down, resting on your hip.

“Only if you want to, of course. I can do anything you’d like,” he said.

You shifted from your position, putting your leg over him and pulling yourself up on his lap, sitting there. Both of his hands snaked around you, holding you there.

“That would be nice. I would like that,” you said.

You brought your hand up to his face, tracing over his mouth tattoo. He kissed your fingertips as your finger grazed across his lips.

“Are you thinking about any more tattoos for yourself?” you asked.

“Always. I need to get my chest done. But you know I’m not gonna stop at just tattoos, right?” he asked.

“I know. What other plans do you have?” you asked.

“I want my tongue split for starters,” he said.

“Really? I wonder what it’ll feel like kissing you after that,” you said.

He chuckled, pulling you closer to him and pecking your lips.

“You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

He held onto you as you curled back into him, nuzzling right underneath his jaw piercings.

As you slowly drifted off in his arms you couldn’t help but think that maybe you should take up doing dares more often.

[fennecfics]

Cuphead Show! King Dice & Devil x Reader preferences (romantic):

Heyyyy I’m gonna be posting more x Reader stuff here. Also some words are censored because Tumblr is a meanie and won’t let me swear in my fanfiction-

The gender for (Y/n) is vague, but it does have menstrual cycle preferences mixed in, along with some talk about these two respecting pronouns and that jazz so, yeah.

Hope it’s a fun read, I might post more of these guys.

Being in a (romantic) relationship with The Devil would include:

• It’s actually hard for him to fall in love or even trust others, so it’ll take a while for him to say “I love you”.

• Though the first time he’ll ever say “I love you” (most likely after a few months of you two dating) it is immediately followed by a scrunch of the face and him going. “That was… strange..” 

• He forces you to live in Hell with him, and only lets you visit Earth on special occasions. Family stuff, friends, but other than that YOU’RE STAYING!!

• He’s so dramatic whenever he has to cut his nails. He’ll run away from you, or hide. Once, while trying to find him to cut his nails, you found him on the ceiling.

• Despite hating his nails being cut, he will literally beg you to paint his nails. He won't just do one color though, he likes to change it up a bit. Sometimes he'll ask for grey, gold, red, but he loves the black nail polish!

• Whenever he has to do stuff that he doesn’t want to do, he tries to argue that he’s the devil and because of that, you can’t tell him what to do.

• One of his favorite activities is burning bibles, so...you have to deal with being woken up to the smell of smoke at 3AM.

• He's still not fond with current technology, but he does seem to enjoy Netflix.

• Devil giving you weird pet names: Darlin', succub!tch, shmoopie, baby-cakes, cow-pie, and tortoise-pigeon (Being the main nickname).

• If you ever need to practice your makeup on someone, Devil won't mind. He likes how it makes him look.

• Surprisingly enough, this guy brushes his teeth regularly. He got them pearly whites. That, and he doesn't want to loose his sharp teeth, they're his favorite, apparently they make him look intimidating.

• Devil is a man of art, very therapeutic for him. He loves to paint, sometimes he’ll want you to pose for him. And he's actually quite quick when it comes to painting.

• Both you and Henchmen helping him whenever he basically gets electrocuted by the sweater. The two of you are practically the only people he trusts, with Dice being the third.

• He doesn't care what gender you are, or if you're trans. If you're still you, and if you're not lying about anything, he won't care. Along with that he also doesn’t KNOW anything about that stuff, so you probably gotta help if you want him to understand.

• Even though he's the devil, he would never want you to feel bad about yourself. He loves you unconditionally, he would kill anyone who makes you feel that way, steal their soul, eat it, then spit it back out ‘cause it’s clearly rotten!

• If you go through the menstrual cycle and are having bad cramps, he gets very…awkward. He’s not very affectionate with others so he has no idea how to comfort people. He’ll most likely just have some of his little demons looking after you for a few days.

• He tries to use correct pronouns, he mostly slips up though, and he won't realize. You just have to be there to correct him for him to actually notice.

Random example:

(He's showing you to someone)

"Yeah, she's really adorable, isn't she?"

"It's 'they'.”

"...AHHH!" *frustrated demon noises*

• He’s not frustrated at you or the fact you use different pronouns, he’s frustrated at himself for not doing it right. So don’t worry.

Being in a relationship with King Dice would include:

• Probably says “I love you” way too fast, and by that I mean on the first date. 

• If you wear makeup he’ll experiment with it whenever you’re asleep. (The masculine urge to wear your partner’s makeup)

• One of his favorite parts of your body happens to be your hands. He loves how perfectly they fit into his. Sometimes he’ll preform a type of show using his hand and your hand as the actors.

• If you go sit in the audience him during Roll The Dice. He'll immediately see you in the crowd and blush for the rest of the show.

• When he knows you're in the audience, he'll say this while announcing to everyone: "Ladies and gentlemen! ..and (Y/n).." (he'll whisper your name under his breath, but loud enough for the microphone to pick it up.)

• King Dice ALSO giving you some (semi)weird pet names: Darling, fuzzy dice, you adorable gambler, my wild card, little poker, and pumpkin.

• The personification of drama. 

• Has a lot of gossip and info on the other famous people of Inkwell. Will tell you this gossip. You will listen. You have no choice-

• This man may seem like he knows how to do shit on his own, but he actually needs help with most things. Such as you having to help with this man's bow-tie every morning, because he just cannot figure it out for the life of him.

• Perfectionist, such a damn perfectionist. He won't go on with his day without him looking perfectly chipper, and he also spends hours in the shower. Really making sure to run up those water bills.

• A little sensitive about his age. If you ask him about it, he’ll say "that's not important" which is an oddly a creepy answer-

• If you wake up early, you'll find Dice in the bathroom just looking at himself in the mirror with a blank stare. If you actually enter the bathroom, he'll be so terrified that he jumps INTO the shower and closes the curtain to hide himself.

• He's mostly insecure about his pips, or dots. He knows he's getting old, because his color is fading. So...he buys lipstick to cover the faded coloring. But you smudged it once while he was kissing you, and he reacted like he was dying.

• He fiddles with his mustache when he's nervous and yet hates if tell him it makes him look like a villain.

• Much like his boss, if you go through the menstrual cycle he gets ungracefully awkward. But he tries to be very casual about it, despite his awkwardness being obvious as hell.

• “Oh, it’s that week?” Silent for a second. “Do you need me to get you anything or ..no?”

• Will buy you everything you need. And since stuff like tampons were fairly new in the 1930s and therefore most likely a tad expensive, thankfully he does have the money for it.

• If reminded, will carry some on him for you. If reminded that is, I’m putting emphasis on “IF REMINDED” for a f—king reason! Guy’s on autopilot all day, he’s famous but also has pretty much everything done for him, and so he doesn’t have to think about much.

• If not reminded he will completely forget and therefore freak the hell out if asked if for some.

• Like The Devil, he has no idea what being Non-binary means, or Bisexual, or anything related to that. I’m not saying he’s straight….He’s not, he just doesn’t know there are words for stuff like that other than ‘homosexual’ and a few other words I can’t mention-

• So, he'll mess up a few times when trying to use the correct pronouns, except he'll correct himself very VERY quickly. 

• "He- THEY.. are my partner. I said they, of course I did. I would never say anything other than they.” Silence for a few seconds before then saying in a much more serious tone: “I said they.”

• He cares. He’s just stupid/j

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Can I please request the Devil from Cuphead with a Lilith s/o? Where they were an early version of Eve that knew Devil before his fall and also fell with him. They too went through a transformation, one that made them insecure as Devil is with his own transformation.

A/N: This was an interesting request! The story of Lilith has always fascinated me. Not to mention that, like the Devil, the numerous pieces of art that were inspired by her tale are absolutely gorgeous! If you haven’t seen it, I’d recommend giving John Collier’s Lilith a look-see!!

I believe I accidentally misread some of the initial request, so the reader falls/transforms before the Devil does. This batch is a little bit heftier than my usual work, so if you’re unhappy with the results, feel free to shoot me a dm so I can make any adjustments where needed!!

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The Devil with Lilith!S/O:

The Devil’s earliest memories of you traced back to when you were nothing more than a whispered name. Long ago, when he still held a place in his father’s heart, the Devil had watched your conception. 

Even now, the Devil could recall his father’s mumbling under his breath,  enraptured in a conversation of one. The few times the Devil (well, he was Lucifer back then) passed by his office, he could faintly make out his father’s muffled muttering through the door. Most of which were near unintelligible. Save for two names: Adam and Lilith.

After his older brothers’ incessant pestering, the Devil snuck into his father’s office. Crumpled paper balls, broken sticks of charcoal, and empty ink wells littered the floor; the Holy One’s once pristine office left neglected in its master’s fitful working.  

A few steps in, his foot suddenly slid forward. Paper ripped beneath his dress shoe with a loud shriek, startling the angel. Cursing, he lifted his foot up. Beneath him laid two torn halves of a sketch page. A man– broad, curly-haired, and with eyes like a dairy cow– stared up at him; the imprint of the Devil’s shoe marring his otherwise perfect face. 

On the other half was another figure. Sharp, piercing eyes and long hair that flowed  like a waterfall. Ah, so you must be Lilith. It was fascination at first sight. Gingerly, he had picked up the half that housed your striking visage. Without another word, the Devil pocketed it. 

He didn’t know what possessed him to take it. Instinct? Possessiveness? Even now, long after he fell from Heaven, he’s unsure. All the Devil knew was that he wanted to stare and marvel at you for hours on end.

God found out about his son’s trespassing not long after the incident. However, he couldn’t find it within him to be angry towards his favorite son. Instead, he had nurtured the young man’s curiosity. Not that Lucifer ever retained any of his father’s impassioned ramblings. He was much more interested in you. 

“They are to be Adam’s wife,” his father explained, a smile present on his ancient face. A pang ripped through the Devil’s chest. Though he couldn’t quite place why.

By the time his father finally began to sculpt you and your husband to be, the Devil thought whatever torch he carried would fizzle out.  

It did not. 

From the moment you opened your eyes, he had been ensnared. Shyness shook his normally so confident core. And to think that all it took was a gentle tilt of your head and a wry smile. A mirthful glint shone in your eyes as the Devil fought to hide the blush steadily overtaking his face. 

The Devil avoided you like the plague after your birth. He threw himself into his work– hoping that having you out of sight would put an end to this nonsense. Little did he know that absence only made the heart grow fonder. 

He was forced to sit back and observe the object of his obsession from afar– lest he’d make a blithering fool of himself. You were different from most of his father’s pet projects. Disinterested. Both in the role you were given and your husband. 

You always seemed to stare off into the distance. Towards the horizon. Paying the lush paradise and your husband no mind. Hell, you’d even looked annoyed when the only other human around spoke to you. 

The Devil didn’t recognize it then, but you, too, hungered for more; more than what you have, for beyond the garden grounds. Most of all, neither of you wished to be subservient to anyone. 

No matter how much he had tried, you never were able to bond or love Adam like God wanted to. What started out as courteous neutrality steadily gave way into contempt. Resentment bubbled beneath your stony exterior like magma within the earth. You were a ticking time bomb rigged to explode, and the Devil watched on with bated breath.

One day, you snapped. Neither you or the Devil could remember what started the argument. Only that it was enough for you to lash out and claw at your husband’s cheek– your eyes wide and teeth bared like a feral hellcat. Adam was quick to crumple to the ground, hissing in pain. You darted off into the underbrush, the rustles of disturbed foliage and the snaps of breaking twigs following in your wake.

By the time God had found out of your transgressions, you were long gone. No one could find where you ran off to. And though the Devil and his brothers were told to leave the incident behind, one look at his father’s face was enough to say it all: the deity was absolutely livid.

Hours turn into days, days into weeks. Time becomes a blur. Adam gains a new wife, and all is well in the garden once more. The bond between father and son weakens with each passing day; all the while your feral visage burned itself into the Devil’s mind. 

Then that fateful rebellion happened. A sword– burning like the rage within his former brother’s eyes– is pressed to the Devil’s neck; a clear victor had been declared. 

Shortly after, he fell. Screaming and burning until he was only a vague resemblance of his former self.

Life after falling wasn’t easy. He was alone, stripped of any power or influence,  and the phantom pains had haunted him constantly. His wings were broken and useless, forcing him to wander the hellscape by foot, and his appearance— oh, how he had changed. 

Truly, the Devil had hit rock bottom. 

And then, you came back into his life. 

In the centuries– eons– of his existence,  the Devil finds himself at a loss of words around you. You’d regarded him with a level of distrust at first– especially since he had accidentally let it slip that he’s known of your existence before you rebelled. 

It also didn’t help that, in spite of the fall scarring you– having charred the flesh of your arms and legs to a blackened and cracked state; feathers, dark and oil-slick like a raven, grew in uneven patches around your eyes, arms and thighs; and legs twisted and bent until they resembled the hind legs of a goat, complete with hooves – he thought you were absolutely gorgeous. 

It takes a long time for you to trust him. Especially since the last thing you had wanted was to bow down to Heaven’s disgraced golden child.  The two of you shared an acquaintanceship for a while– your interactions kept brief. However, you couldn’t deny that you were a little curious about the man. 

Soon enough, a working business relationship blooms between the two of you. The Devil comes to you in search of information– be it the whereabouts of potential contracts or certain souls on his list. In return, you gain a favor from the soon-to-be King of Hell; you saw how quickly he’s amassing power, you’d be a fool to pass up having someone as influential as him underneath your thumb. 

Not to mention that you may or may not have begun to enjoy spending time with him. What was once small shared rants on how much Heaven sucked ended up developing into something more. 

Once the Devil finally establishes his casino in Inkwell Hell, you find yourself treated as a guest of honor. You’ll be treated better than royalty within velvet-lined walls, an entourage of imps tending to your every whim, and drinks and food are given to you free of charge. Not to mention you have free reign to enter his office or balcony seat whenever you please. 

Acquaintanceship blossoms into an easy, flirtatious.. Whatever you two are. The Devil isn’t sure what to name the relationship he has with you at this point. You both share the same dry, sardonic sense of humor and are content to co-exist in comfortable silence – a part of him rather not muddy one of the few good things he has because he decided to think with his other head, so to speak. 

Then again, there are certain moments where he wonders..

You’d light the end of your thin cigarette against the plump tip of his cigar, eyes hooded and lips pursed as you hummed a low thanks; occasionally glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Chuckling to yourself every time he flushes and grumbles to himself. 

Every now and then you’ll indulge in drinks within his personal office. Occasionally you’d partake of his own cup, gently pressing your lips where his own rested not too long ago. Taking care to slowly lick at your lower lip each time you catch him staring. 

The way you’d pause whenever the larger demon would casually brush  a stray head feather back into place, gently dragging a claw against the vane in his own version of grooming. A shy flush overtaking your cheeks, turning away and covering your mouth as you grumble out to warn you next time.. 

How your gaze softens and body melts when either one of you recall the fall from grace; lamenting former glories and how your transformation left its scars, offering a saddened smile whenever he scoffs at the very idea that your were any less beautiful. 

For as long as both of you existed, for as much as both of you constantly blur the lines of platonic comradery and something the Devil dare not name in fear of getting his hopes up– the two of you are painfully oblivious.

┕━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┙

[self-shipping-selfcare]

A Dance With The Devil | The Devil x Reader (Shortened Version)

《A shortened version/blurb of a fanfic I posted which I’m writing into a longer fic》

You are a spy and you decide to help your little brother, Cuphead, with getting the Devil off his back; befriending the demon to find his invisible sweater. The Devil has his own plans with you and also befriends you for his own ulterior motive; both of you completely unaware of the very real feelings you two eventually gain for each other.

✎Self Indulgent

✎Fluffy

✎Reader is Gender-Neutral

reblogs with comments > reblogs > likes

《↬.•.•✿•.•.↫》

You hum a tune to yourself as you sit on the boat making its way towards Inkwell Isle. Maybe you’re reading a book? Or staring off into space? Perhaps you’re playing an instrument, or you might be writing in a journal? It doesn’t matter how you pass the time, you’re still able to admire the view of your childhood home and think to yourself about everything that’s been going on.

You are Y/n, and what your little brothers call, a spy. You work for an organization to help take down criminals and your role is usually to sneak into their base and impersonate a gang member so you can infiltrate them and take them down from the inside. You’ve been told by many of your co-workers and even some of the criminals you captured that you’re a master of disguise, even a rat would think you’re one of them even if you’re clearly not.

Because of your job, you usually have to travel the world and you can’t spend much time at home, so your boss has given you some time off work, usually two weeks every two months for you to visit your family.

Who’s your family? Why, Cuphead, Mugman, and Elder Kettle, of course! I won’t specify if you’re related to them or not, either way they’re still your family.

↠❀↞

Once you get home, you open the gate and walk into the front yard of your family’s home. Before you could make it to the front door, the door is kicked open and Cuphead and Mugman run towards you.

“Y/N!!!” Your two little brothers tackle you in a tight hug, a hug which you return.

“I missed you two lil dum dums!” You laugh with a smile.

“We missed you too!” Mugman says happily.

“Didja bring any gifts for us!?” Cuphead asks excitedly.

“Cuphead!” Elder Kettle scolds the cup with a glare before turning to you. “We’re glad you’re back, Y/n.” He smiles at you.

“I’m glad I’m back, too! I missed you guys so much!” You say as you let go of the hug with your brothers. “Now, who wants their gifts? They’re souvenirs from my last three missions!”

“Me! Me!” Cuphead and Mugman say excitedly in sync.

“Alright.” You chuckle, grabbing your bag of gifts. You take out a light blue cowboy hat with a light pink flower on it. “First is the same cowboy hat the corrupted sheriff wore when she stole from the bank, for Mugman.”

You hand Mugman the cowboy hat, which he takes and puts it on, striking a superhero pose. “Now I’m the sheriff!”

You then take out a tarot card deck. “Now this is a tarot card deck the cult leader we imprisoned carried at all times, for Elder Kettle.”

You hand Elder Kettle the tarot card deck, which he takes with a smile. “Ah, just what I wanted! Thank you, Y/n.”

You lastly take out a small orange megaphone that fits in the palm of your hand. “And finally, the megaphone the mob boss used to communicate with me and other giants, for Cuphead.”

You hand Cuphead the small megaphone, which he takes and shouts through it. “Ey, it works! Even though it’s so small!”

“Now, boys. What do we say to Y/n?” Elder Kettle asks them.

“Thank you Y/n for the wonderful gifts!” Cuphead and Mugman say in sync.

“Aw, you’re welcome!” You smile at them.

“Now, why don’t you come inside? Your room is ready for you.” Elder Kettle says as he begins walking towards the house.

“Alright!” You smile as you pick up your luggage, walking into the house with Cuphead and Mugman following you, asking about your adventures.

↠❀↞

The next day, you’re sitting in a chair in the living room, passing the time doing your own thing. Read a book, write, play an instrument, listen to the radio; whatever you want. Elder Kettle left to shop for groceries and other stuff he needs to get. You decided to stay to watch over your little brothers…speaking of which, they’re probably outside playing with Elder Kettle’s lucky tire again. As long as they don’t lose it or break it, you don’t care.

Speaking of the boys, you get up and lean over the window to check on them… Okay, they’re not outside and it’s way too quiet. They must’ve wandered off, again. You grab your bag you always carry with you and step outside. There’s a few spots you usually check first, which more often than not is where they’re at. First, the forest nearby the house.

“Cuphead, Mugman? Where are you?” You call out as you walk.

Silence…okay, maybe they’re playing hide and seek.

“Now isn’t the time for hide and seek; besides, you guys suck at hiding.” You say, taking a glance around the forest.

No response. Usually that gets a “you’re just good at finding us!” from Cuphead, but there’s nothing but silence. They’re probably not here, you assume. Next, time to check Porkrind’s. Maybe they’re wasting all their money again or annoying Porkrind.

You turn and start walking towards the shop, enjoying the peaceful silence of the forest. The bird’s chirping, the flora as beautiful as ever…

“GET BACK HERE YOU STUPID CUPS!!!” An unfamiliar voice shouts.

“RUUUUN!!!” You hear Cuphead’s voice, then him and Mugman yelling. You rush towards the commotion as fast as you can. Oh boy, what trouble did they get into now?

Thunk!

You bump into Cuphead and Mugman, who both fall on their butts from the impact. “Oww…”

“What’s going on?” You ask them, looking down at the two.

“Y/n!” Cuphead beams with a bright grin.

“Help us, the Devil’s chasing us!” Mugman pleads.

“The Devil?” You ask, raising your eyebrow.

Sure enough, the literal Devil comes running from the bushes, approaching the three of you with a look of pure anger. Your little brothers yelp and jump up, immediately hiding behind you. You move to a protective stance, keeping a brave face and shielding your brothers from the demon.

The Devil stops in his tracks right in front of you, taken aback by both you defending them and the fearless look on your face. “Move.” He demands.

“No.” You say firmly. You would’ve pulled out a weapon, but this is the literal Devil. Even you’re not confident enough to straight up attack him.

“Wha-” He gives you a look of genuine confusion and shock. “Why not? He owes me his soul and he won’t give it to me! He’s the one not playing fair!” He snaps, gesturing to Cuphead.

You turn and give him a look. “What did you do?”

“It was an accident!” He says.

“How were we supposed to know that carnival was a trap?” Mugman adds.

“If only we had that invisible, impenetrable sweater…” Cuphead mutters, looking down in thought.

“Ha! My demons and I have it in a secret, undisclosed location that you fools will never find!” Devil laughs with a cocky smirk.

“What happened while I was gone??” You ask, mostly rhetorically.

“A lot.”

“Who even are you?” Devil asks you. He thought he knew everyone who lived in that cottage, but apparently not.

“Y/n, and that’s my little brother’s soul you’re trying to steal.” You say, crossing your arms and giving him a sharp look.

“It’s not stealing if he’s the one who isn’t playing fair! He lost the game fair and square, his soul belongs to me now!” He snaps at you.

“You’re trying to take his soul way too early, he’s still a kid!” You snap back.

Devil takes a sharp breath, taking a moment to calm himself down. It wouldn’t do him any good in getting angry…hang on, a thought just came to mind. You’re not at all scared of him, which piques his interest, and you’re close with Cuphead…perhaps he could try to befriend you to get to Cuphead, and find out more about this interesting mortal who’s brave enough to snap at him.

“You know what…how about we talk about this like adults over tea- or coffee or whatever you want, I don’t care.” Devil asks you, giving you a very obviously fake smile.

You and your brothers’ all have one single thought; “...what-?”

“You heard me. You’re…a very interesting mortal, and I’d like to get to know you. What do you say?” He asks you, putting on a charming grin to persuade you.

You…are speechless. The Devil wants to get to know you, of all people? Wow, you are so…not fooled by his act. I mean, come on. It’s so obvious he’s trying to manipulate you…although, he did say something about having some invisible sweater that would keep Cuphead safe, so what if you beat the Devil at his own game and get close to him to find that sweater.

You give him a casual grin. “Sure, why not? Sounds nice.” You say.

“Wait, seriously-?” His grin falters for a moment before he puts his charming facade back on. “I-I mean, perfect! Where shall we go…Y/n?”

“Well, there’s this cafe I really like going to; we should stop by. Chat for a while.” You reply. Your brothers give you the most confused looks, completely baffled you’re “fooled” by his charms.

“Perfect! I’ll meet you there, just tell me the name.” Devil says, hiding his giddiness over his plan actually working.

You tell him the name of the cafe and where it is in town and he nods in response. “Perfect…I’ll meet you there, Y/n!” He says, already acting all buddy-buddy with you, before hitting the bottom of his pitchfork on the ground, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Cuphead and Mugman step out from behind you and give you a weird look. “Seriously!? You’re a master spy, but you’re that easily fooled by him!?” Cuphead asks, still baffled by what he just witnessed.

“Relax, Cups. I knew what he was trying to do. I have a plan of my own.” You shrug.

“Oh-”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Now,” You kneel down to their height. “What can you tell me about that invisible sweater you mentioned?”

“Oh, that! Mugsy made it for me! It worked for a while.”

“Before the Devil got a hold of it. Now we don’t know where it is.”

“How does it work?” You ask.

“It electrocutes him!”

“But it’s very hard to find if you don’t know where to look. Ya can’t see it, after all.”

“Hmm, interesting…” You hum in response and stand up straight, thinking deeply to yourself. This might be the most difficult mission of yours yet, but you’re determined to help your little brother.

《↬.•.•✿•.•.↫》

Here’s the longer fanfic if you want to check it out:

AO3 Link:

Wattpad Link:

[chaoticyumelikes]

20 days ago someone asked me for this but unfortunately Tumblr ate the ask so I don't remember the user 😔 but remembered the ask! So here goes:

The Devil x Gn! Angel Reader

Well, well, well, how WAS your fall?

Well he used to be an angel too before he was unceremoniously kicked out due to... Heh... History. So color him surprised when he sees an angel of all things in his domain.

He had to rescue you from getting bullied by the regular denizens of the Underworld where they wanted to clip away your fluffy feathered wings. With the rise of an eyebrow while he looked at you, judging you and asking you what are you doing in the Underworld. Have you fallen from grace? Took a wrong turn in the geological or morality compass? It matters not, your presence will be met with irritation, annoyance and if you happen to be a true angel inside as well as out, you will be straight up irksome to him. So naturally he will keep you as a pet.

He misses Heaven though he will never ever admit it. So guess what? You're not going back. Suffer as he has... Kinda. He cannot be overly cruel to you... If you play your cards right of course. But he will never let you go back. You landed on his turf so evidently you belong to him now. If you behave nicely he will give you some freedoms such as walking around his abode without escorts but do NOT stray from him, "Not every demon is as handsome and compassionate as me, dear." He swears he developed a sixth sense when you (accidentally or not) stray a bit much to his liking. He gets snappy with everyone till he reaches you and (gently) grabs your hand to move you next to his throne before he incinerates everyone. Heck, the demons learn this very quickly, so any meetings with their boss they will look for you and kindly ask you to join (you're an angel, so you won't refuse the shivering demons' request...)

On the off chance you are an angel that he used to know be prepared to be relentlessly mocked by him, and him alone.

Not many get to interact with you as they fear their lord's wrath and consequently his pitchfork. Henchman is the only obvious exception. He is far too devoted to his master and thus has the Devil's trust.

You thought you'd have to learn about the Devil by asking Henchman but to your surprise not only the Devil tells you of his life he sets up a whole theatre act around it. When you genuinely clap at his performances his grin could not have been bigger. Finally! Someone of culture!

You bet that after you applaud him you just sealed your fate. He will try to convert you to his ways. He wants you always by his side being his "Yes-angel". Of course, since you are your own person/angel fights are gonna happen when you disagree even the tiniest bit.

Be ready for his tantrums. His very fiery, very dramatic, 6-year-old-worthy tantrums. Fortunately, since you are an angel you have powers, so you can block his fire (Henchman and King Dice have used you as a shield more than once. Not just as a flame shield but they believe their boss grows a bit soft at your general presence and you are a literal angel, you'd protect them anyhow... Right?)

Out of curiosity, he will investigate the why of your fall. Was it a logistical error that you were sent to Hell and not Heaven? Or something else. Won't ever tell you if he finds out though. You'll never know he is investigating your past either. You will suspect it however when his teasing gets a bit more personal tho.

Has pet your wings more than once. His wings were fluffier and prettier than yours (his words) but he misses his wings sometimes (would never let anyone know). If you envelop him in your wings... He complains all the while getting comfortable and sighing. Will even feign a glare or two, but you can see totally he doesn't really mean it.

Do not EVER give the Old Scratch a ride from you. For one he can fly, another reason is... You'll have to give him rides EVERYWHERE. Should you refuse him... He will become so dramatically heartbroken which in turn plays your heartstrings to the sound of guilt and... Dammit it works.

Despite his constant complaining he enjoys your company a lot. He even starts seeing you as an equal. He even starts falling for you (after he mistakes it for allergies and keeps a distance from you but then he misses you and like a cat he will impose himself for you to give him all the attention).

You'll only ever believe he loves you when he protects you from his less loyal minions or lost souls unfortunate enough to even touch you. His wrath will know no bounds.

The Cuphead brothers once tried to "free" you by literally grabbing you and escaping the place. To the brothers' absolute surprise not only do you tell them you want to stay, the Devil himself gets vicious and unrelenting in getting you back he almost manages to get their souls. Fortunately, your immediate "surrender" and staying by his side manages to somewhat calm him. The brothers definitely make a mental note to never do that again EVER.

Do not expect this boss of demons to say he loves you. He has a reputation to uphold mind you. Nooo, you're the one that must take the initiative.... And after him teasing the sh*t out of you for even saying such a thing he will accept the relationship. Be prepared to be always in his arms in private. He has to be touching you almost constantly in some way, even if it is his tail wrapped around you. Will complain and mope around though (like a cat) if you say something about it.

Be ready to be covered in his fur as he is ready to have some of your feathers somewhere on him. Any witness that blurts out something about it it's immediately dealt with.

[fallen-minotaur]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Rules ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

These can change at a later date (as of 22/11/24)

Will do:

Headcanons

Small drabbles

Gn/Male reader

Fluff

Won't do:

Nsfw

Anything with kids

Angst (I don't wanna be sad) ((unless I do))

Characters I write for:

King Dice - Cuphead

The Devil - Cuphead

Henchman - Cuphead

Beppi the clown - Cuphead

Djimmi the Great - Cuphead

Rumor Honeybottoms - Cuphead

Please bare in mind, most of these characters don't have deeper characterization so they're likely based on my headcanons... as I will do for the few that do we like em spiced here

Also I may be slow with writing, it's not a strong suit of mine but I need to step away from character chats because of the harm AI does to nature, the overall health/patience in people and AI chats addictive nature, if theres a will there's a way to create my headcanons and thoughts and scenarios without using a bot that I need to reload messages for 20 times before it gets it right. ((Also I'm mad at the Ai chats grammar 90% of the time, like english is not my native language but the your/you're pisses me off and now watch me make plenty of my own grammatical errors with my butter fingies))

[defectivevillain]

deliver me not

pairing: The Devil/Reader

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary:

“I’m not sure if a Major Arcana can die,” Asra had said. “After all, they’re ideas. Concepts. And an idea can’t truly die.” In the months following your confrontation, The Devil whispers to you.

word count: 2k | ao3 version

warnings: spoilers to the main storyline of the game & Julian’s upright route. chains and temporary imprisonment; suggestive remarks.

The seven of you—Mazelinka, Nadia, Nazali, Portia, Julian, Asra, and you—defeated The Devil and eradicated the plague. Vesuvia is returning to its former glory, with beautiful crystalline waters flowing through the canals and bright-eyed, healthy citizens ambling about the streets. Everyone is peaceful and happy.

… But you’re still uneasy. 

You toss and turn at night, frequently dreaming of the ominous crimson skies from The Devil’s realm. You often wake up in the morning to a sweltering hot bedroom and scratches along your arms, as if something is clawing at you during your slumber. And those scarlet eyes, that haunting, sharp-toothed grin… They follow you into your waking life. You start to see The Devil everywhere: between vendors of the Red Market, standing outside the window of your shop, lurking in the dark corners of the palace.

Eventually, you grow restless enough to consult your cards. Taking a slow breath, you shuffle the deck and pick one card… only to find The Devil upright. He almost seems to leer at you from the card. You blink and the two humans beneath him disappear, replaced with a solitary figure. Your own face stares back at you, a length of chain around your shoulders inextricably connecting you back to The Devil. 

Your heart races in your chest as you’re drawn back to what Asra told you all those months ago. “I’m not sure if a Major Arcana can die,” he had said. “After all, they’re ideas. Concepts. And an idea can’t truly die.”  

Unnerved and unsettled, you put away your cards and spend the rest of the day fighting off your spiraling thoughts. By the time night falls, you’ve already closed the shop. You’re inexplicably exhausted, despite the fact that you haven’t done any strenuous physical activity today. You eventually decide to stop thinking about it and get ready for bed. Sleep comes easily that night, especially with your desperation for an escape from reality. 

But you don’t get to rest, because you soon open your eyes to find yourself in The Devil’s realm once more. And he isn’t like you left him. He’s not a frozen statue; instead, he sits on his throne and looks down at you with a bored expression. 

Foreboding sends goosebumps across your skin. You shouldn’t be here. Did he manage to summon you? You thought you had successfully contained him during your last battle. The thought of having to fight for the city and your friends again is enough to send a renewed wave of exhaustion through you. You stare up at The Devil. “What did you do?” you demand tiredly, the words falling from your lips before you can stop them.  

“Me?” The Devil asks innocently. He’s staring at you as if you’re a particularly meddlesome pest. “I’ve done nothing.” The mere implication almost seems to offend him. 

“I see you everywhere,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I keep returning to your realm. And whenever I try to do a reading for myself, I get your card.” 

Something makes The Devil’s glittering eyes snap towards you with frightening speed. Then he laughs and laughs. The air almost seems to vibrate with malice, as a truly dangerous grin rises on his lips and his eyes flash with interest. “You have no idea what you just admitted to.” 

“What?” you choke out. The smug expression on his face is deeply unsettling. 

“You’re straying from your path, Fool,” he remarks cryptically. His ambiguity is perplexing. At your confusion, The Devil only sighs impatiently. “Your patron Arcana whispers to you,” he continues. 

Suddenly you understand exactly what he’s insinuating. The Devil is claiming to be your patron Arcana—claiming that you resemble him. “No, that’s—” you argue. “That’s not true. I’m not like you.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince; The Devil seems to recognize this, if the twisted smirk on his face is any indication. The very thought of being similar to him is enough to make you nauseous. 

“Oh, but it is true,” he grins. His composure is only making you more angry. The Devil is infuriatingly calm and unbothered. “There’s darkness within you. And greed. You’re unsatisfied because you want more.” 

You shake your head silently, entirely speechless. 

“Besides, there’s no need for pretense here,” the Devil says casually, gesturing to the crimson skies around him. Indeed, it is only the two of you in this realm, this moment. “You reject your mortal companions. You’re growing restless, impatient.” 

You grit your teeth and ignore his baseless accusations. “We defeated you,” you remind him. It wasn’t all that long ago, either. 

“Temporarily,” The Devil shrugs. He taps his fingers against the arm of his throne with a casual impatience. You feel that familiar fury rising in your chest once more as you stare at him, entirely unaffected by your hateful glare. Instead, he only looks more intrigued. 

It happens in slow motion. One moment, you’re watching him warily; the next, chains are surrounding you—wrapping around your arms and legs, slowly pulling you closer to The Devil and his throne. You try to summon your magic, but you can’t reach it—as if there’s an impenetrable darkness blocking you. The chains continue to drag you forward relentlessly, until you’re far too close to The Devil. You try to fight back, but the manacles only grip you even tighter. Your writhing is subdued, until you’re left standing before him like a pinned butterfly. 

The Devil scrutinizes you with an appraising eye. “Not a bad look for you, magician,” he grins. Equal sentiments of anger and something uncomfortably close to embarrassment fight for prominence. You try to keep your composure, despite every bone in your body screaming at you to escape somehow, someway. The chains almost seem to writhe and crawl along your skin, and their movements only reinforce the strength of their grip. You can hear your heart roaring in your ears. 

“You’re afraid of me,” he states clinically. You don’t bother arguing—the rapidity of your breaths and the swift thrumming of your pulse only further prove his point. The Devil hums. “Yet you do not cower. You don’t try to wager. You still fight.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s hard enough to breathe past the iron-knuckled grip of his chains—let alone find the right words to utter. You can only hope your contempt gleams in your eyes; and, it must, because The Devil smiles. 

He motions languidly and the chains drag you a step closer. “Aren’t you tired of fighting?” The Devil questions. His voice is deep and entrancing. “This is nothing more than a petty feud to me. But that pesky resolve of yours… could very well make this span your entire lifetime.”

The chains tug you down, as if trying to make you kneel. You stumble into an awkward genuflect, your hand hitting the ground as you try to push yourself back up. You will never bow to The Devil. You repeat that promise like a mantra in the back of your mind, until you manage to get yourself to stand up again. 

A vicious grin is practically painted on The Devil’s face, and you start to come to a hopeless realization. Whatever you do will intrigue him. Regardless of how you attempt to oppose him, he will find glee and entertainment in it. He enjoys this twisted game of cat-and-mouse—enjoys forcing you to acknowledge his presence and go along with his plans. “Is this how you wish to spend the years you have left: fighting for the ungrateful?” 

That statement cuts deep. You think of Nadia and Portia smiling at one another; to Asra and his parents, residing within the palace; to Muriel, finally free from his curse; and to Julian, who can roam the streets as an innocent man. They have all moved on. They… left you behind. Your friends left you to the wreckage of their own actions—the consequences of their decisions. 

You immediately berate yourself for even considering a deal with The Devil. He makes things sound too good to be true—that’s what he does. You know better than to be taken in with his false promises. The air is stiff and oppressive, manufacturing an urgent irritation and envy within you. 

The chains suddenly yank you forward again, allowing The Devil to reach out to you. You instinctively lean backwards, but there’s nowhere for you to go. Instead, you’re left breathing hard as his fingers travel up your throat mockingly. Surely he must feel the rapidity of your pulse beneath his fingertips. But he only scrutinizes you quietly, his gaze intense enough to send shivers down your spine. Then his hand rises to cradle your jaw and he tilts your head to the side. There’s a strangely focused expression on his face, as if he’s looking for something. You can only hope he doesn’t find it. 

Then, without explanation, The Devil tilts your head to the other side. Quick as lightning, his other hand is extended—and he drags a long, clawed finger down your cheek. It’s enough to puncture your skin and draw blood, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. After an immeasurable time spent in quiet appraisal, The Devil makes an assenting noise and his hand finally falls from your face. You wince at the feeling of blood dripping down your cheek. 

“I won’t make a deal with you,” you promise with all the conviction you can muster. 

“You will,” The Devil says smoothly. There’s no heat in his argument—only a cool rationality, as if he knows exactly what will happen. “Don’t fear: I can wait. I have all the time in the world, after all.” You don’t goes unsaid, but you hear it anyway. He’s right—your mortal life is all you have. And while a few decades is nothing more than the blink of an eye for The Devil, it’s a good chunk of your lifetime. Can you really live like this for that long? Can you keep fighting tirelessly—pushing away that relentless exhaustion that only draws closer on your heels? 

You try to get out of the chains once more, surprised to notice a faint trace of your magic returning. With The Devil distracted, you channel your energy into breaking the chains—and they slowly begin to snap around you, leaving you just enough room to escape them. 

“I see you’re growing impatient,” The Devil’s voice cuts through the static in your mind. You blink and the chains around you disappear, leaving only a persistent ache in your muscles as a reminder. Before you can even begin to speak, your vision is fading to black as the Devil leaves you with one last parting remark. “Very well. We will meet again soon.” The crimson skies around you morph into a starless night sky, submerging you in darkness. 

You wake up in a cold sweat, tangled in your sheets and sprawled across your bed. Groaning, you push yourself up and head to the bathroom, wanting to cool yourself off. You reach down and pour some water into your hands, before rinsing off your face. A stinging sensation on the left side of your face makes you pause; you wince and squint at your reflection in the mirror, only to find a jagged cut tearing through your cheek: right where The Devil ran his clawed finger along your skin mere moments ago. 

You take a shuddering breath, trying to come to terms with the physical evidence of the reality you just unwittingly transported yourself to. As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you realize there are bruises crawling up and down your forearms—from where the chains had been. That was no mere dream. You visited The Devil’s realm—and he let you leave. Willingly. 

The certainty in his voice still haunts you. Is your descent into darkness really as inevitable as he makes it seem? It takes concentrated effort for you to calm yourself down enough to return to bed. And even when you do, The Devil’s smooth voice follows you into your nightmares—imploring you to take your place at his side.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[c-monthecob]

"Y/n threw her long blonde hair into a messy bun"

[yzzart]

⋆˙⟡ BOYFRIEND!DANTE ── HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of anime, Dante being needy, fluff, cute and light content and part two is here!

── word count: 653!

⭑.ᐟ Dante is always, ALWAYS, in contact with you and it doesn't matter where or when. — This is not an exaggeration, or a complaint, never. — Whether through physical touches or messages, SMS, — that man only uses his damn cell phone because of you and even though it's risky — he never lets you keep in contact.

“thinking about you right now ;)” “Dante, you only left about 5 minutes ago…?” “painful, isn’t it? do you believe i have an amazing joke ready? i need to tell you when i get back.”

⭑.ᐟ The demon hunter loves to snuggle up to you, to cling to you; being unable, and in his words, impossible, not to be close to you. — Well, that's his biggest weakness. — Dante always kept his hands around you, usually on your waist and caressing the region. — Like holding your hand, caressing your face and massaging your thigh.

⭑.ᐟ He loves receiving your attention, especially when he is between your boobs and receiving caresses, which make him fall asleep instantly. — you know this very well — However, there was one night, after a long and unbearable killing against beings from the underworld, Dante ended up falling asleep during one of the night conversations, which was your routine, and ended up drooling on your shirt.

⤷ The scene was…naive, also pitiful; your boyfriend was tired, he needed rest more than anything else. — And you, wanting to make him comfortable and pleasant, tried to get out of the position, which was to be underneath him, but an extremely sleepy and heavy Dante prevented your action and mumbled inaudible words — asking you to stay there, with him — and even without understanding, you obeyed.

⭑.ᐟ DDR — DanceDance Revolucion nights? This has become a routine worthy of you and Dante. — Every night, no matter what time it is, and even knowing that you have things to do the next day, this gentle game becomes a competition; Dante, without even caring who is in front, doesn't miss the chance to have fun with his girl.

"Come on, ma'am! Make me impressed, go, go!" + “It was with that swagger that you won me over, right, you smart little girl?” + “I can’t believe you beat me at my own game?”

“Shut your pretty mouth, big boy.”

⭑.ᐟ You are the only person, the only thing that can breathe, that can touch or question his necklace. — There is no discussion about that. — Dante trusts you, until his last breath, even though he has reason to distrust everyone and everything, he would never leave or abandon his loyalty and trust in you. — Out of fear, and respect and common sense, you don't dare to touch it on some occasions and Dante realizes this, he finds it funny, cute, pure; feeling loved and so cared for by you.

⤷ “There’s not a day, not a single day, that the memory of the day she gave me that necklace doesn’t cross my mind.” — Dante mentioned his mother, able to feel a small and unbearable burning in his eyes; he sighed, arranged you in his lap, directing a compassionate look in your direction as your fingers pass through the cord, without touching the amulet. — “And every day, i’m sure she would adore you.”

⭑.ᐟ Dante knows how to be a knight with you, and he really does. — Last piece of pizza in the box? He makes a point of leaving it for you, and that's a high-class knightly role in his eyes. — Even living such a complicated life, working with something so violent and filthy, he can't help but indulge his girl in a few whims.

⤷ Little writings on small pieces of old newspaper, which he left in his pants or jacket pocket, telling some joke or unfunny pick-up line and decorations are typical of Dante. — Teaching you to play pool and then beating him and your prize are moments of grabbing? Oh, Dante is a lucky boy.

[jupitereleven]

new favorite character unlocked 😻

[skyrigel]

and then it's the hottest thing ever

[fallenxangel-13]

fallen angel worshipping your body for the first time. eyes widening in adoration, as though seeking salvation in your flesh alone. his fingertips ghost over your soft skin, lips murmuring praises against your bare neck- warm and desperate-before he takes you raw.

"you're so divine," he groans in your ear, his large wings shudder, feathers rustling as he thrusts deeper into you-eager for more. his faintest whispers send shivers down your spine. "forgive me, love.. heaven was wrong. you were made for me. only me. understand?"

[angelltheninth]

Now that Devil May Cry is out may I request some head canons about riding Dante? Pretty please?

You can always make DMC requests from me!

Pairing: Dante Sparda x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cock riding, praise, clit stimulation, teasing, Dante being Dante

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I don't really care if people hate the Netflix anime, I love it. I want a season 2 right now.

the type of guy who would buy you a cowboy hat when you say you want to ride his cock

you don't have to wear the hat when you're riding him but he thinks it adds to the fun

a very touchy guy, he can never keep his hands to himself

Dante refuses to keep his hands away from your clit when you're having sex, it is a magical pleasure button after all, so even if you're doing most of the moving he still wants to give himself something to do

slaps your ass a lot, more often with just one hand but sometimes with both and always grabs you where he slapped, especially when he knows you're still sensitive

if you get tired he will lift your legs up, his arms below your knees and fingers interlocked with yours, before he starts hammering his cock into your sensitive wet hole

very chatty and will always tell you how much he's enjoying himself, or how hypnotized he is by the view of your pussy swallowing his hard cock, your pussy making his white pubic hair wet with it's slick, the slapping, lewd noise that your pussy makes when you lower yourself on him over and over

grins up at you and gives you a thumbs up when you make him come while riding him

when he wants you to ride him he will sit on the bed, pat his thighs and tell you to get on, and yes, he will absolutely also say yee-haw

has condoms in lots of different colors to make things more fun when he has to watch his cock go in and out of you

one interesting thing that he likes is to fuck you from behind but then he will stop, leave just the tip of his cock inside of you, feeling your pussy tighten, trying to pull him back in but he won't move

instead he tells you to ride his cock from this position

as much as he loves getting ridden he is still Dante at the end of the way, so of course he will find a way to be a cocky bastard about it

not like you didn't know that before you started dating, now your sex life is that much more fun, for having Dante there

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Like Hell, You’re Shy Now || Dante Sparda ||

The old, battered leather of Dante’s chair creaked under him as he leaned back with that usual half-lazy, half-hungry smirk. You stood between his legs, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your oversized shirt — one of his, of course. It swallowed you whole, brushing your bare thighs, the scent of gunpowder and cedarwood clinging to the fabric.

Dante’s red coat hung off the side of the chair, his black undershirt tight across his chest, half unbuttoned from earlier. His eyes never left you, glowing like smoldering embers — waiting, watching, eating you alive without a single touch.

“You gonna keep lookin’ like that,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “or are you gonna climb on and make a mess of me?”

Your breath caught, thighs pressing together. You’d had him before — over desks, against walls, in the damn kitchen once — but this… this was different. Riding him? That meant taking control. That meant all his focus on you. No place to hide.

“I—I don’t know if I can—”

Dante chuckled, the sound dark and rich. He leaned forward slightly, one gloved hand dragging up your thigh, slow and possessive. “Like hell, you’re shy now,” he whispered, voice teasing but tender. “You’ve taken my cock screaming before, sweetheart. What’s this really about?”

You swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck. “Just… it’s new,” you admitted. “You watching me. All of me.”

His eyes softened for half a second before darkening again, fingers curling around your hip, tugging you gently forward. “Then let me make it easier for you.”

With his help, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him. The friction of your bare heat against his jeans made you gasp, and Dante’s jaw clenched as he felt the wetness through the fabric.

“Shit, baby,” he growled. “You’re soaked already?”

Your cheeks burned, but your hips shifted instinctively, chasing the pressure. He looked like sin itself beneath you — legs spread wide, muscles tense, his expression a mix of reverence and filth.

“Take what you need,” he murmured, voice husky. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With trembling fingers, you reached between you, unzipping him and freeing his cock — thick, hot, and already leaking for you. Dante helped, one hand guiding you as you lined yourself up and sank down, inch by inch.

Your head fell back with a whimper as he filled you, stretch delicious and overwhelming. His hands gripped your hips hard, grounding you, but he let you control the pace. You started slow — the roll of your hips unsteady at first — but his praise poured like gasoline on your nerves.

“That’s it,” he groaned, teeth gritted. “Look at you… fuckin’ perfect. Ridin’ me so good, baby.”

You rocked against him, gradually finding rhythm, the drag of him inside you hitting every nerve. Dante’s head fell back against the chair as he watched you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide.

“Goddamn, you were made for this,” he grunted. “Made for me.”

The warmth on your cheeks was matched only by the heat pooling deep in your belly. Each bounce sent shocks of pleasure through you, and the way he held your hips tighter, thrusting up just enough to meet you — it pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“You feel so good, Dante,” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Come for me, angel,” he growled, suddenly snapping his hips up hard. “Wanna feel that pretty pussy squeeze me while you fall apart.”

You shattered, moaning his name as you clenched around him, trembling in his lap. Dante wasn’t far behind — he pulled you down hard and spilled into you with a groan that vibrated through your whole body.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing heavy, skin slick and bodies tangled, legs still shaking as your fingers clutched a fist full of his shirt.

After a moment, he tilted your chin up and kissed you — slow, sweet, reverent.

“Next time,” he murmured against your lips, “you’re takin’ that shirt off first, your beautiful tits out. I want the full view, babe.”

You laughed breathlessly. “You’re insatiable.”

He grinned. “Only for you.”

[maopll]

you just KNOW you're at a disadvantage when you are dating someone taller than you...

it's funny how the universe is mocking you in the form of your huge lover (he's not a giant it's just an exaggeration).

trying to grab the cereal from the top-shelf? Here you go, he hands it to you and then places a sweet kiss on the top of your forehead. Need that book? He's already behind you. You can't see the concert from this distance because the crowd is blocking your view? He's already hoisting you on his broad and strong shoulders. "Don't worry love, I'll do anything for you" so he says with lovesick eyes.

"No! I would NEVER do that to you" where he tries to deny of ever teasing you because of your height. But you know he's just lying considering how he sometimes rests his chin on the top of your head or makes you his personal armrest.

bonus points if you're chubby or just inherently soft ! he will pick you up and spin you around and squish you, like a stress reliever if he's had an especially bad day at work. And will lay his head on your soft soft thighs.

your chest aren't safe either, he will either nuzzle in them or the crook of your neck. Inhaling your scent as if it's a kind of aromatherapy for him. in a nutshell, he's smitten.

WRIOTHESLEY, CAPITANO, AYATO, DILUC, IFA, CHILDE, PHAINON, MYDEI, JING YUAN, BEELZEBUB, DIAVOLO, MALLEUS, LEONA, JACK HOWL, SUKUNA (?), SUGURU GETO, GOJO + your favourites !

© 2024 maopll. do not copy, repost or modify my work in any form

[i2rizz]

𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔

Synopsis-Dante's only goal tonight: wreck you so thoroughly you'll never even look at another man again.

And judging by the broken bed, the shattered floor, and the bruises on your hips? Mission accomplished.

(NSFW / MDNI / Warnings: filthy smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, jealousy, possessiveness, teasing, manhandling, breeding kink, overstimulation, hair-pulling, mouth-fucking, marking, degradation + praise, messy sloppy drunk energy, Dante being a rabid man)

(A little thank you gift for 400 followers so sit yall fine asses down and grab water because what I’m about to deliver is gonna have you needing to pace around your room for 10 minutes)

You barely made it through the front door.

The second it slammed shut behind you, Dante had you caged against it—hot, heavy, feral.

"You fuckin' tease" he growled against your mouth, voice wrecked, hands already hiking your tiny, skin-tight club dress up your thighs. "Flirtin' with every bastard in that club—shakin' that ass like you wanted me to fuckin' lose it, huh?"

You gasped, breathless, clawing at his leather jacket to yank him closer.

You could still taste the liquor on his tongue, still feel the pounding bass of the club vibrating through your bones.

He ripped the jacket off and tossed it somewhere without looking.

Lifted you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing, throwing you over his shoulder with a rough smack to your ass that made you shriek and giggle.

"You think it's funny?"

"Wait till I show you how funny it is when you can't fuckin' walk tomorrow"

He stalked through your apartment like a man possessed, kicking open your bedroom door of off its hinges, tossing you onto the mattress like a ragdoll.

You barely had time to scramble up before he was on you again—grabbing your ankles, dragging you down the bed, manhandling you until you were flat, pinned, helpless.

"Stay fuckin' still" Dante rasped, yanking your dress up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy pair of panties.

His blue eyes burned.

Dark. Starved. Dangerous.

"You wore this tiny little shit to the club?" he hissed, dragging two fingers roughly up your slit, already soaked through the lace. "You wanted attention that bad, huh? Wanted everyone seein' what's MINE?"

You whimpered, grinding helplessly into his hand.

"Yeah, you fuckin' did"

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Gonna make damn sure you remember exactly who you belong to"

He hooked his fingers in your panties and ripped them clean off—no ceremony, no patience.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was on you—mouth messy, sloppy, devouring your pussy like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

You screamed.

Fist tangled in his hair, thighs clamping around his head.

He groaned into you, like he was savoring every filthy sound you made, grinding his tongue against your clit with reckless, brutal focus.

When you came, it was violent.

Tearing sobs from your throat, soaking his mouth, your whole body twitching under his iron grip.

Dante didn’t even give you a second to recover.

Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand—smirking, cocky—and shoved you further up the bed.

"Face down, ass up, princess"

You scrambled to obey, still dizzy from the orgasm, and he was already pulling his cock free—thick, heavy, dripping precum.

He didn’t prep you.

Didn't warn you.

Just lined up and shoved his way in one brutal thrust, punching the breath from your lungs.

You clawed at the sheets, sobbing into the mattress, as he started pounding into you with zero mercy.

The bedframe slammed into the wall with every vicious thrust, the whole apartment shaking.

"Fuckin' tight little hole, squeezin' me so fuckin' good," Dante growled, spanking your ass hard enough to leave a handprint. "Can't believe you were showin' this perfect pussy off at the club—gonna have to fuck the attitude outta you, huh?"

You screamed into the sheets as he bent over you, biting and marking your shoulder, pounding you so hard the bed legs cracked against the floor.

It wasn't enough for him.

He flipped you over mid-thrust, manhandling you into a full mating press—legs over his shoulders, your ankles pinned near your ears, leaving you fully exposed and helpless as he rutted into you.

"Look at you" he growled, one hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing lightly as he fucked you deeper, harder, faster. "Pretty little slut. Perfect fuckin' hole. Gonna pump you so full you won't know where you end and I begin"

You were crying now.

Tears streaming down your cheeks from the intensity, the overwhelming stretch and heat and pleasure.

"That's it" Dante purred, licking the tears off your face. "C'mon, princess. Cry for me. Show me how bad you need it"

You shattered again, convulsing around him, screaming so loud your neighbors probably called the cops.

Dante snarled, fucking you through it, never slowing down—until you felt the brutal pulse of him cumming deep inside you, filling you to the brim, thick, hot, endless.

He collapsed on top of you, still sheathed deep, grinding lazily into your oversensitive cunt to milk every drop inside.

"Not done" he rasped, voice wrecked. "Gonna fill you up again. Gonna keep fuckin' you till you're so fuckin' full it leaks down your thighs"

You whimpered, barely able to think.

And he smirked—slow, wicked, dark.

"You asked for it, sweetheart"

"Now you're gonna take all of it"

And then he started moving again.

No mercy.

No escape.

Just Dante,

and you,

and the kind of sin that no amount of praying could ever erase.