#lee!devil

[stariez-artz]

Cuphead should at least try tickling the devil. Do it for the memes!

[aticklishtem]

Yo, Tem, if this isn't too much to ask could we get something tickle related to do with Snake Eyes? I love your other content for it. It could be a drabble, I don't really care about the length. Love you and your work! ^~^

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.

The tables may turn, but King Dice simply doesn’t lose - and when the stakes involve making the Devil himself giggle like a fuzzy, lovestruck fool, well, this game’s only gonna get more interesting.