#Deal with the devil

[valzb8keree]

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[noobiestnoober]

A Deal with the Devil (Klaus X Reader)

Klaus saves you from a vampire attack—but at a price. “A debt must be repaid, love,” he purrs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I intend to collect.”

SMUT WARNING. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

The moon hung low over the vibrant streets of New Orleans, casting an ethereal glow on the cobblestone paths. Shadows danced in the corners, and the voice of jazz trailed through the air, masking the dread that churned in your stomach. Heart racing and breaths shallow, you sprinted through the narrow alleys, desperate to escape the ominous figure chasing you—the vampire who sought to claim you as his next victim.

You rounded a corner, panic surging through your veins, but just as the cold breath of your pursuer caught up, a familiar silhouette emerged from the gloom: Klaus Mikaelson, his presence a confusing mix of safety and danger.

“You’ve always had a flair for dramatic exits, haven’t you?” he teased, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he assessed the situation, muscles tensed and eyes focused.

Before you could respond, the vampire lunged at you. Instinctively, you braced for impact, but Klaus was faster. He stepped in front of you, a feral growl emanating from his throat. With a swift motion, he took hold of the vampire, his hands wrapping around its neck with an iron grip.

“Do you even know who you’re dealing with?” Klaus’s voice was a mix of playful banter and deadly seriousness as he threw the opponent against the alley wall. The sound echoed in the still night air.

You watched, heart pounding, as Klaus unleashed his supernatural strength. The vampire, now scrabbling for breath, retaliated, but Klaus easily countered, slamming his fist into the creature's jaw. Blood sprayed against the cobblestones, painting the night in darker shades.

“Stay away from her!” Klaus roared, electricity crackling around him, and you felt entranced by the raw power he exhibited.

In one final, fluid motion, Klaus drove his stake through the vampire’s heart. The assailant crumbled to the ground, lifeless, leaving you with an unsettling awe of the man who had saved you.

Klaus turned to you, his gaze softening yet still smoldering with intensity. “Let’s not make this an early night,” he said, stepping closer, an overwhelming sense of both danger and allure filling the air between you.

“Running will only tire you out, love. Let me protect you… for a price.”

His words hung heavy between you, and your breath hitched as memories of your complicated past surfaced. He had once sought to turn you into one of his hybrids; his interest in you was never just about survival.

“I owe you nothing,” you shot back, grounding yourself in your defiance, although your heart raced at the sight of him.

“And yet, here we are,” he retorted, his voice low and alluring. “You may have escaped before, but now? Now I find myself in a position of power. You’re mine to save, and I fully intend to collect what’s owed.”

Klaus reached for you, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. He ignited flames within you, sparking desires previously buried.

“I’m not a prize for you to claim, Klaus,” you murmured defiantly, yet your body betrayed you, hunger clawing at your insides.

“Are you certain about that?” He leaned in, lips tantalizingly close, his breath warm against your skin. “The wolf lurking inside you only adds to your allure. Let me remind you what it feels like to be truly alive…”

As his lips captured yours, the kiss was intoxicating and engulfing. It exploded into something primal, fueled by fear and desire, sending you tumbling into a whirlwind of passion.

“Tonight must have its price,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with lust.

“What will this cost me?” you breathed as the kiss broke, your body thrumming with anticipation.

“Survival has its price,” Klaus replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I assure you, what I offer is far more valuable than mere survival; it is a taste of your very essence.”

Your instincts screamed at you to resist, but he ignited something dark within you. You leaned in, surrendering to the chaotic thrill that coursed through your veins. The alley around you seemed to vanish, the world narrowing to just the two of you, caught in a dangerous dance.

In a moment of reckless abandon, Klaus pressed you against the cool, damp wall of the alley. Your heart raced as he pinned you there, and you felt a delicious shiver snake down your spine. His lips traveled from yours, along your jawline, lingering at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Klaus!” you gasped, parting your lips to let another moan slip out. The sound mingled with the distant echo of music from the street, creating an intoxicating harmony.

He met your gaze, eyes dark with need. “You wanted me to remind you what it feels like to be alive, didn’t you?” he teased, lowering his lips to your collarbone, kissing and biting as desire pooled within you.

“Yes! I-I need you,” you whimpered, the desperation and wanting electrifying the air around you.

“Then allow me,” he growled, kissing down your chest, hands pushing your clothing aside to explore your skin. His fingers danced over your body, teasingly grazing your sides before settling on the curve of your waist. The touch sent shocks of pleasure radiating through your body.

With expert precision, Klaus took you, guiding every movement, driving you to the edge of ecstasy amidst the shadows. You lost yourself in him, every thrust carving out the remnants of fear and leaving only pleasure in its wake. The gritty alley became your private world, echoing with breathless gasps and passionate cries.

“Tell me you want this,” Klaus commanded, his voice both a plea and a demand.

“Y-yes! I want you,” you cried out, thrusts deepening as he claimed you, the two of you lost in primal rhythm that spoke of both conflict and desire.

Klaus's grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer as he thrust into you with a pleasurable intensity that made your head spin. You could feel every inch of him, every thrust igniting a fire deep inside. He took you hard against the wall, the rough surface scraping your back delightfully, adding to the overwhelming sensation.

“More,” you begged, feeling desperate and wild. Every moment shared between you felt forbidden; the thrill of it combined with the loss of control sent you spiraling faster toward your peak.

His lips were on yours again, a hungry, demanding kiss that left no doubt of his intentions. “You want to be mine, don’t you?” he murmured, and the question enveloped you as he kissed his way down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

“Yes! Forever,” you moaned, feeling the heat coil tighter within you as he began to pick up the pace, thrusting feverishly. The alley’s air was thick with the sounds of your bodies colliding, skin against skin, and the mingling of your breaths.

Klaus's rhythm intensified, each thrust plunging deeper, igniting sparks of pleasure that shot through your core. You could feel yourself unraveling, teetering on the edge, each wave crashing over you more powerful than the last.

“Let go for me, love,” he urged, his voice a low growl that reverberated through you.

With one final thrust, your entire body erupted with pleasure. You cried out, waves of ecstasy crashing over you, the world fading away as you surrendered completely to the moment. He followed you into bliss, his body shuddering against yours, the two of you caught in a crescendo of passion that reverberated through the dark alley.

As you both slowly came down from the high, you rested against him, breathless and exhilarated. The night deepened, and shadows loomed large. You were no longer just a wolf in hiding; you were entangled in Klaus's world—a place where thrill and chaos reigned supreme.

As you gathered your bearings, Klaus pulled away slightly, cupping your face with a smirk. “Now, was that so painful?”

You chuckled, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration radiating from your core. “You certainly have a way of collecting your debts,” you replied, a playful glint in your eye.

Klaus leaned in, brushing his lips against yours softly this time, a promise lingering in the air between you. “This is just the beginning, love. I think we have many more debts to settle.”

Thank you for reading ❤️. Check out my other stories here >>>> Master List

[headlessgrasshopper]

I’m thinking late thirties early forties. This became more than it needed to be 🫠 (thank you sm! Arghh!!!)

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Deal With The Devil

Chapter 1: The Deal

Pairing: Fae!Hyrule x Reader

Warning(s): Eventual smut and some yandere themes

Notes: This came to me at 3am in a fever dream after getting both my flu and covid shots, so enjoy!

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Next Chapter

There was something horribly wrong with the forest at the edge of your village.

Whispers of creatures, lurking among the shadowy boughs or dense shrubbery, circulated the community like the chilled winds from the North, digging icy, fearful tendrils into the hearts and minds of your fellow villagers. Tales of dark magic were becoming as common as talk of upcoming weather, and yet, nothing was done about the supposed horrors prowling the doorstep of every self-respecting individual. You heard rumors of dreadful skittering atop thatched roofs in the market, basket piled so high with vegetables and honey that the weight threatened to send you tipping to the thin ground, and murmurings of Hylian-adjacent silhouettes in fog-frosted windows.

It was a load of bull, as far as you were concerned. Well, maybe not the warnings of not straying too deep into the forest, because it was common sense, but you were more than skeptical on the tales of witches and demons--or, as of late, fae folk. Not the sweeter-than-sugar fairies that strayed behind your home, eagerly accepting the food you placed specifically for them, but actual fae; tricksters, deceivers, murderers.

Besides, with your budding merchant business, it seemed counterproductive to refuse to enter the woods. How else would you gather your herbs? Your mushrooms? Your wild nuts and berries?

Which is probably why, when you sent the mayor's son packing after another painful courting attempt, you had no qualms about slipping into the comforting shadows of the trees, the twittering birds and rustling leaves your only witnesses.

You hummed softly, letting your feet carry you down the well-worn path, gaze softly scanning your surroundings, flicking from the colorful flowers to the downy moss, sticking to brown-gray bark like a blanket of fuzz. It never hurt to be aware, though you couldn't shake the dull feeling of being watched. It started slow, a mere drizzle on your senses, but the familiar tingle of your spine was getting harder and harder to ignore with each step you took.

With a soft shake of your head, you turned off the path, b-lining for a thick tree on the edge of the unknown. A cluster of silent shrooms grew among the tree's gnarled roots, and you eagerly plucked them from the earth, gently stuffing your prize into the satchel slung across your chest with a satisfied hum. Your neighbor, Jayrie, had mused about the lack of 'unusual' ingredients in the market, and you'd been hoping to find something to surprise her, if only in the hopes of tempting a few extra rupees from her pocket in a bribe to find more.

Seconds passed, then minutes, and the day slipped away before you knew it. With a fattened satchel and soft grin, you trotted back home, completely missing the shadowy figure crouched among the tree branches, honey-colored eyes trained unblinkingly on your form.

Hyrule licked his chapped lips as he sat on the thick branch, the bark rough through the fabric of his pants. It wasn't an unwelcome sensation, especially when he had something far more important to focus on. The tendons in his back flexed when a soft hum filled the air, followed by the gentle crunch of boots against trampled, dead grass.

It was you. Because of course it was. It always was.

Hyrule felt his heart clench, ears swiveling to catch every huff of breath and mumbled word that fell from your lips, as he curled a bit in on himself. His mouth opened, several words hissing past pearly teeth, and the glamor surrounding him thickened, ensuing that he would be imperceptible to even the most skilled magic users, which you (thankfully) weren't.

It wasn't his fault–he thought as you walked a bit further, immediately dropping down to pluck the mushrooms he had magicked just for you this morning–or, well, not really. It was his fault, however, for getting attached after witnessing you go out of your way to feed the fairies that dared stray into that blasted village, cooing softly to them in the safety of your backyard, nestled on the very edge of the settlement. He watched you tend to his sisters for far longer than he cared to admit, and, when your reoccurring presence in his glade grew noticed, it only went downhill from there.

It wasn't long after he began observing you did he realize that he had... well, he couldn't quite describe what the feeling was, but it was profound. Consuming in a way that left him with the embarrassing ache to touch you, even though every fibre of his being screamed for him to cease this senseless involvement immediately. He was fae and you were Hylian; it would never work, never mind the context that 'it' insinuated.

You stood up, humming some incomprehensible melody, and Hyrule stiffened atop his perch, pointed ears twitching as another, senseless feeling bubbled in his chest. It would be so easy to return the song, to chime to your lead. He wouldn't even need to retract the glamor! But the risk...

When you patted your satchel, the tone of your song changing to something distinctively pleased, turning on your heel to return to the village, Hyrule let himself slip from the branch, landing soundlessly on the soft grass as he began the ritual anew. You were a merchant, which meant you frequented the forest quite often in search of items, and he was more than happy to provide if it kept you coming back, just so he could follow you to the tree line, where he would linger until you were no longer in sight.

It was pathetic, he knew, but when was the last time a Hylian had treated the fae folk with even a modicum of respect? Of kindness? He certainly couldn't remember, and Hyrule prided himself on his memory.

The fae's steps were light, honed from years of sneaking around, as he trailed after you, careful to duck behind the nearest tree when your vigilant gaze strayed even an inch too close. While he was positive you were a kind, sweet, perfect soul, he knew it wouldn't end well if you discovered you were being followed, which was the last thing he wanted.

As the color of the sky faded to a soft pink, flecked with fiery oranges and blazing reds, and the sun dipped below the cradle of the horizon, Hyrule found himself standing a few trees back from the edge of the forest, eyes trained on your swaying form as you trotted to your house, which bordered the tree line by a few hundred meters. You were still humming, though the song was different. Slower, gentler. Hyrule was embarrassed to wonder if you would sing for a fae.

His wings ached for freedom, just as the magic thrumming in his veins begged him to return to the wilderness. Your village was a strange, terrifying place, and he hated it with every fiber of his being. Hated how quick they were to judge, to spread those horrendous rumors. Granted, many of them were true, but it was a matter of principle.

Hyrule shook his head. His canines, longer than the average fae, sank harmlessly into his bottom lip at the foolish desires rolling through his mind. The fae stole one last look in your direction before disappearing into the forest, the scent of wildflowers and fresh rain filling his senses; a storm was coming, but he wasn't worried. He never was.

That night, Hyrule sang for a Hylian.

This is for the Hyrule thirsters <33

[internetgreatesthits]

[wyxxiee]

Whatever shit of a deal he got himself into surely as fuck looks terrifying and traumatizing because are you telling me that SOMEONE stitched his smile on? OR he’s some sort of Voodoo Doll for someone to play on or control? 😧

[faustianblank]

Deal with the Devil gone wrong (for the Devil)

Devil (smirking, voice silky): "In exchange for your deepest desire... I want your firstborn."

Soap (without hesitation): "Aye, deal." He immediately starts undoing his vest.

Devil (blinking, caught off guard): "...Wait—wait, what are you doing?"

Soap (cheerful): "Warming up! You want a kid, right? Let’s make one." He’s already got his shirt halfway off.

Devil (alarmed): "Wh—NO! That’s not what I—That’s not how this works!"

Soap (tilting his head): "You said firstborn! That means one of mine, yeah? I figured we’d get a jump on the process."

Devil (flustered): "No! I meant the future child you have with someone else! Not—not me!"

Soap (mock offended): "Aw, you don’t want to co-parent with me? I’d make a great dad. Good genes, nice arms, soft voice for bedtime stories."

[lionofstone]

BODYSHARE is a queer fantasy novella that follows Luke Milton, a recent college graduate and divorcee who, in exchange for success in his music career, agrees to share his body with the devil. Coming to a website near you on 8th October 2024!

You can PRE-ORDER the novella here or apply to be an advance reader here!

And here's the entire summary:

Luke Milton made a deal with the devil. Now, he's getting everything he ever wanted: musical opportunities, charting albums, world tours, and a thriving fanbase. The only cost? His body, which he now shares with the devil itself as it goes about its mysterious business. All in all, the tradeoff isn't too bad. He's also always wanted an intimate connection.

After both his college diploma and his divorce papers are signed, twenty-two-year-old Luke Milton is approached by the devil—an energetic force that's been present in one way or another for his whole life—who lauds him with praise for his musical skill and insists that it could help him further his career. When initial reviews of his EP are shaky, it doesn't take long before Luke is agreeing, even though the terms of the deal require him making space in his body for the devil the share.

Luke's career develops rapidly, and so does his relationship with the devil. As they work together through album releases and world tours, they become further and further intertwined, and Luke has to wonder if it's worth it.

Explore fame, self-worth, and sacrifice in this queer fantasy thriller.

[porceauxchop]

wip of raphael LET A BROTHA SPEAK HIS RIDDLES 🗣🗣🗣

[bluesunss]

Our wonderland Choi Su-bong x F!Reader

Dreams part 1

summary: your childhood best friend gradually abandoned you to his new persona and lifestyle. after a year of silence and quiet grief, a cocky demon informs you of the death of your once best friend during deadly games.

-> in which: you are offered a chance to rewind time and save your best friend. but your part of the deal? not being informed what is the price you will be paying in exchange. is it worth the risk? after all, dreams can cause no harm… right?

warnings: cocky behaviours, manipulation, desperate times call for desperate mesures, Su-bong’s a little shit, blood, glass breaking

a/n: small new series! let’s see where this takes us… Let me know if you enjoy it :)

“He’s dead. Three or four stabs with a fork to the nape.”

Against the table, the man’s fingers drummed, creating an echo like the sound of rain. One hand in his pocket, he fixed his gaze on you through sunglasses, his expression vacant. “Your demon or your sweetest dream.” That was how he had introduced himself.

In every way, he seemed like an ordinary human, floral beach shirt, flip-flops, shorts, sunglasses. Except it was winter. And he walked through glass, doors, walls.

And, most importantly, he was explaining in grotesque detail how your childhood best friend had died just hours ago, supposedly stabbed in the nape.

Su-bong and you had been friends. In kindergarten, he used to tease you because you liked butterflies and ants. He stole your scented markers just to bother you.

Then one day, after school, he had to stay behind as punishment, and you had forgotten your scarf. When you went back to the classroom to get it, you tripped over a backpack, and that was when you saw Su-bong lying in the playground, watching the ants.

Silently, you lay down beside him. The two of you spent the evening building tiny houses for them. You got home so late that it was already dark, your father scolded you, and you were grounded from watching TV. But you had a new friend. And nothing else mattered.

From that day on, he gradually abandoned the other little bullies in kindergarten and focused on you. You watched butterflies, flowers, ants together. You drew houses with chalk and laughed.

Because you had managed to preserve a small part of his childhood innocence, you thought you could save him from his descent into corruption, from Thanos. But it was too late.

Your best friend mocked you when you stayed home instead of going out. He disappeared more often on Friday nights, stopped visiting, ignored your calls.

And on the rare occasions you did see him, he reeked of sweat, alcohol, cheap cologne, and cigarettes.

Then came the pills. More and more of them. That was when the rift between you truly began.

One night, so intoxicated he could barely stand, he found his way back to your place.

A knock at the door. You rushed to open it, only for Su-bong to collapse into your arms, sobbing.

You stroked his hair. “It’s going to be okay,” you whispered.

Then he lifted his head to look at you. Tried to kiss you.

But you pushed him away. Not like this. Not when you loved him too much.

Su-bong barely spoke that night. He was a shadow of himself. But his eyes lingered on the paintings on your walls, the photographs you had taken and developed together, the drawings you had hung up. And then, like a child with his favorite stuffed toy, he clung to you all night.

By morning, he was gone.

And then everything fell apart.

The real descent into hell. The parties, the drinking. Then, he started a rap career under the name Thanos, like the Marvel character, from your favorite movie. He dyed his hair purple, painted his nails, became arrogant, narcissistic.

You lost all contact with him. He didn’t answer anymore. Didn’t write. Only a five-second video surfaced every now and then.

And then, nothing.

A year passed. You erased his existence from your life as best you could. After all, he was just a childhood friend, and hearts change too fast sometimes. Your love was supposed to fade.

And yet.

A year, a week, and two days after his disappearance, you were just being told he was dead.

And God, did it hurt. Because your wounds had never healed.

“Can you bring him back?” you asked the man.

Because he was a demon. He had to know how.

The demon toyed with your tablecloth, whistling, reached for your glass of juice, then burst into laughter, a sharp, gull-like cackle, when his fingers passed through the cup.

“Hilarious, huh?” He wiped the corners of his eyes, still laughing stupidly.

He was irritating. His mannerisms were eerily similar to Thanos when he was being insufferable.

“Well?” You grew impatient.

“Let’s calm down! Come on,” he replied.

Adjusting his collar, he nodded toward your glass again, as if trying to amuse you.

“Yeah. I can turn back time just for you, pretty little thing.”

You clicked your tongue. He stood, brushing his ice-cold fingers against your chin. And suddenly, his fingers sharpened, tattooed, colored nails grazing your cheek.

When you looked up, your worst fear came true. Su-bong was standing there.

The demon stroked your cheek.

Still dressed in his ridiculous beach outfit, he pulled his sunglasses up onto his head and smirked at your trembling form, unable to look away.

“Ah, just as I thought. The abandoned best friend,” he murmured. “In love.”

His finger trailed down to your nape, forcing you to look at him. Your gaze locked onto this false Su-bong, trapping you, breathless, as the demon pulled you into his embrace, his icy face inching closer to yours.

“Doll, he’ll never love you,” he said with a mockingly sad expression.

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back, adjusted his sunglasses, and his hair darkened. His fingers lost their inky hue, the long black streak vanished, his rings solidified. He chuckled.

“But you can still save him. And try anyway.”

Casually strolling through your apartment, he grabbed your framed painting of Su-bong at ten years old, your favorite. His long fingers traced the glass encasing it. How was he even touching it?

Without warning, he lifted the frame and smashed it onto the floor. Your heart lurched. You swallowed a cry, eyes widening.

“How do I touch this canvas? Who cares, doll. Focus!” His voice sharpened. “Tell me your wildest dreams. You only meet the devil once, and your mind can only focus on… oh!" He snickered. "Forgot that he was quite a devil too."

Shards of glass scattered across the floor. Your heart pounded. The canvas was torn in one place. But you didn’t dare move.

Then your eyes landed on your favorite mug - hand-painted by Su-bong for your fifteenth birthday. A terribly drawn butterfly, its wings colored like Thanos’ infinity stones.

The demon followed your gaze, picked up the mug, and smiled before shattering it at his feet. Then, he whistled innocently. “Focus, sweetheart.”

That was too much.

“Ah, enough of this charade!” you shouted, furious.

The demon morphed beside you, turning into a flicker of lightning.

“Watch your mouth! You’re speaking to a magical entity. Show some respect!”

His fingers brushed against your lips.

“You’ll forget all of this. It’ll fix itself when I turn back time. I’m just playing with you, my angel. I just want you to listen.”

Still smiling, his gaze bore into yours.

“You can save your man, try to fix things. We’ll rewind time, and you’ll get your darling back. And you’ll save him, okay, sweetheart?”

Shaking your head, you stood up, forcing him to step back.

“And you? What are you in all this?” You gestured at the wreckage on the floor. “Is this kindness too? And what am I?”

He laughed. Then, he blew a breath toward you, and you found yourself frozen, literally paralysed as he twirled around you.

“That’s where I come in. A deal with the devil comes with a price.”

He leaned in, lips near yours, took off his sunglasses, and placed them atop your head before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You could not move. “That’s what makes it fun.”

His mouth drifted lower, barely grazing your lips. Then, he whispered in your ear.

“You have no idea what you’re risking. You’re gambling your life away for some two-bit bastard who doesn’t deserve you… because you’re in love.”

His hand went to his mouth, he pulled out a broken tooth and threw it out the open window. "Life’s balance, baby. I broke your mug, karma just broke my tooth. You love him, he hates you. Money comes, money goes."

He changed. His hair turned violet again. His black eyes gleamed, his tattooed hands gripped your hips and framed your face.

“So, señorita. Will you come save me?”

With a snap of his fingers, you collapsed, coughing, breath stolen. Su-bong smirked. Then, a fork materialized and stabbed through his neck, and he playfully stuck out his tongue, feigning agony.

“Argh! I’m dying! Save me!” Laughing loudly, he straightened up and grinned down at you. “We in? One-way ticket to your wonderland?"

You pulled off the sunglasses, clenched your jaw. “Asshole," you muttered, crushing the black shades in your palm.

The demon laughed. "That’s my girl." He then blew you a kiss. "Remember, life’s balance." And he vanished. The house turned into an igloo.

That was the last thing you saw.

Lmk if you like it!!

[rea-grimm]

Deal with the devil - Ace

For the last few months you have been battling a heart condition, but it was hereditary and it makes your heart weaker and weaker every day. There was no cure and you were slowly waiting for the end. 

Ace was by your side the whole time, always trying to find a cure or something to help you. Unfortunately, there was nothing. He had no choice but to be there for you, to give you support and hope for a miracle. 

You were often visited by Marco, who became your personal doctor. And despite his knowledge and healing abilities, even his flames didn't work on your heart. 

You lay in bed, where you spent almost 24 hours the last few days. Ace lay beside you, stroking your arm as he told you stories of his adventures and tales of his brothers and all they had been through back then. 

You loved his stories and you devoured every word. You were able to forget about your illness while he was telling you and transport yourself somewhere away into the story. 

You didn't know exactly when, but somewhere in his next story you fell asleep. When Ace noticed, he finished his story and sighed. He was glad you found comfort in his stories, but at the same time, your condition was weighing on him more and more.

But he knew he wouldn't help you with his worries. Instead, he wanted to encourage you as much as he could and put the smile on your face that he loved so much. 

He lay there with you for a while, stroking your hair. He wished with all his heart that you would get better and heal. 

"'Not going to last much longer eh?" came a strange voice behind him. Ace was immediately on his feet ready to burn the intruder to the ground. 

"Easy there, tiger. I come in peace," came the voice again mockingly this time from the other side. 

"Who the devil are you?" asked Ace, turning to the devil. 

"That's right," he grinned. "I have a proposition for you that you can't refuse. And before you jump in, it involves your flower here," he said, playing with a lock of your hair. 

"Don't touch her!" Ace shouted at him, surprised he hadn't woken you up yet. 

"I see," and he withdrew his hands in the air in a playful gesture of peace. "What if I tell you I can save her, interested?" He grinned. Ace's face clearly showed how hesitant he was. He knew full well that he should watch out for the devil. That such things were not to be taken lightly. 

"And what would that cost?" He asked hesitantly. If it was going to save you, he wanted to know the price first. He'd die for you willingly, but he knew you'd be able to walk back into the depths of hell for him or sacrifice yourself for his good.

"Nothing to keep you two apart. You will still have the power to be together and live a long life. I can even offer that the disease will completely disappear and no one will be able to inherit it. How about that?" he grinned smugly, seeing an easy win. 

Ace looked at you and your calm expression. If only you knew what was going on right now. He looked again at the devil, who looked perfectly innocent and honest. He wanted to save face until the contract was confirmed. 

"It was an honour doing business with you," the devil smirked smugly as Ace shook his hand. At that moment, the three of you were enveloped in flames that climbed up to the ceiling before suddenly evaporating and taking the devil with them. As if he had never been there. 

The next day you woke up in Ace's arms feeling unusually good. Like you hadn't felt in a long time. As you lay there, you could feel your heart pounding. Strong and regular. You felt like it wasn't even your heart. 

When Ace woke up, you both went to see Marco, who confirmed your suspicions. He never expected such a change for the better, and perhaps he'd never experienced it. He was happy for you.

Ace was happy that you were well. Of course, he kept the real reason why to himself. He didn't want to worry you unnecessarily when you finally started to get better. 

No less not too long after your heart got better you noticed something strange about Ace. You noticed how the skin on his hands started to turn black. At firs,t you dismissed it, thinking it was just dirt, but the blaccolouror wasn't disappearing from his hands and even his feet at all. 

When you looked at his hands, it reminded you of black, burnt skin. As if his powers had burned him to the flesh. 

You tried to treat his skin, but no ointment or medicine worked. His skin blackened more and more and slowly began to crack. His hands now reminded you of the cracking surface of solidified magma. 

As his black skin cracked, the cracks were filled with both the magma and his fire. 

You could feel the fire-like heat radiating from the cracks, and when he got excited or angry, flames would burst from them. As if he couldn't control the ability of his fruit. 

Just like on his hands, a black spot slowly formed on his chest, right where his heart was. The black scorched spot began to grow larger and larger with each passing day until it was about the size of an open palm with fingers. 

Moreover, he began to feel a strange weakness and uncontrollable heat on him, as if his Mera Mera no Mi fruit was burning him from the inside. 

Now it was as if you had switched roles. Now he was the one who was in bed and you were taking care of him and trying to help him as best you could. 

You were about to treat a black spot on his chest when something unexpected happened. Just as your fingers gently touched the burnt skin, it began to crumble, crumbling inwards, with a deep hole forming around the entire circumference of the black spot, where you could see clearly through it to the bed. 

You couldn't control the tears that welled up in your eyes at that moment, because the thing you feared the most happened at that moment. Ace breathed his last. 

You let the tears fall and hugged his limp body. And even though he wasn't moving and his body wasn't moving either, you felt yourself growing warmer and warmer. 

When his body grew so warm that you couldn't hold him any longer, you pulled away just in time. A strong flame appeared in the middle of the hole in his chest and flared out, nearly burning you. The flame lowered and enveloped his entire body. You had to step away from him, even though you didn't want to. 

Under those flames, three pairs of horns appeared on his forehead, slowly disappearing into his hair. The flames crawled up his body until they stopped two at his tallest horns and in the hole in his chest where it fluttered like his new heart. 

You also noticed something crawling out of the leg of his shorts. It slowly lengthened, it was skinny and as black as his arms. Only then did you realize it was a tail. 

As unexpectedly as he had died, he took a deep breath, as if he had no air and was hungry for it, and sat up. He was breathing deeply and looked disoriented. 

"What happened?" He asked in surprise, feeling as if he was underwater and couldn't swim to the surface. 

" Y-you d-died," you stammered in surprise, wondering if it was still him. 

"What?" He asked in surprise, looking down at his hands and the hole in his chest. He felt so strange, but at the same time good, like he hadn't felt in a long time. He was brimming with energy and felt no pain. 

He walked over to you and was about to hug you when he paused. With every movement and breath he took, the fire inside him was stoked and he pulled back. He was afraid of accidentally burning you. 

You saw his hands smoulder, but you could see in his eyes that it was still him. You carefully reached out and took his hands. They were hot, but they didn't burn. Ace looked at your hands as if they were an apparition. He looked startled before a smile appeared on his face and he pulled you into a strong hug.

He looked into your eyes and gently took your cheek. How much softer your skin was compared to his. He leaned in close and kissed you gently on the lips. He may have been different in appearance now, but deep down he was still your beloved fiery Ace.

Ace Masterlist

[vertigoartgore]

Brian De Palma's Phantom of the Paradise (turning 50 today, feel old yet ?) movie poster by artist Richard Corben.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Deal With The Devil

Chapter 2: Hunter

Pairing: Fae!Hyrule x Reader

Warning(s): Eventual smut and some yandere themes

Notes: This was supposed to be posted next week but I got impatient lol

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Fae troubles, eh?"

Your customer, a tall, heavy-set woman who looked like she could snap your back over her knee without breaking a sweat, asked as you plucked the last health elixir from the recesses of your stall, the glass cool against your fingers.

Your gaze flicked to meet hers, and you huffed, giving the nearby stalls, where you knew the worst of the gossip resided, a tired look. "I wouldn't believe everything I hear in the market, ma'am," you said, handing her the potion. Her skin was cold when it brushed against yours.

The woman, who had introduced herself as Raela, scoffed, tossing several shiny rupees onto the table. They glimmered against the tough wood, and you lamented why you even bothered correcting people anymore. "So I've heard," she let out a low grumble that didn't reach her eyes, which looked more like the sharp edge of a sword than anything. "But the women in the tavern are..."

"Convincing?" you finished with a dull look.

Raela's smile was all teeth. "Right."

You were just about to duck behind the stall when she cleared her throat. "I don't suppose you'd be able to point me to the blacksmith?"

With a sigh, you did just that, tastefully ignoring the heavy steel chains hanging from her pack.

In Hyrule, when it rains, it pours.

You had long since returned home when brewing clouds blotted out the sun and gusts of wind kicked up, carrying a particularly biting chill through the air. The mug was warm against your palms, filled to the brim with fresh-brewed tea, as you gazed out of the window, absentmindedly watching droplets patter against the frosted glass.

There was a terrible crack of thunder, louder than you'd ever heard, and the cottage shook, creaking softly as it was rattled to the very foundations. You jolted in surprise when a burst of lightning illuminated the darkened sky, nearly spilling your tea in your haste to sit on the couch, a thick, scratchy blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. Storms were okay, but you were never able to shake the uneasiness that their arrival heralded.

It was going to be a long night, you were sure.

Until you heard it.

A screech, unlike any animal you'd heard, broke through the air like a cannon, so piercing that you feared your ears would begin bleeding from the sound alone. You shot up from the couch, hissing when a bit of tea splashed onto your fingers. Nearly stiff with shock, you all but threw the cup down and bolted for the backyard, where the noise had come from. Another scream had you flinging the door open, uncaring of the storm raging just outside.

It was dark out, but you still managed to make out the shape of something at the edge of the forest. Something Hylian. A bolt of lightning illuminated the area once more, and you gasped at the sight of a man standing–well, he looked more like he was leaning–at the tree line, one hand clutched over his clothed stomach, the fabric glimmering a shade of crimson. Your heart dropped, then lept into your throat as you called. "Hey!"

The man's head snapped up. You couldn't make out his features through the pouring rain, but you didn't need to. Steeling yourself, you dashed outside, slowing to a stop when a low growl rumbled louder than the storm, throwing your hands up. "Hey– it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you!" you called over the thunder, but it fell on deaf ears.

Another snarl ripped through the air. The man lurched forward, falling on his knees in the mud. You stepped closer, ignoring the way your soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to your body, chilled with freezing rain. It was then that you noticed the shine of his eyes; a pure, honey-colored gold that shone firebright against the whites of his eyes. Though horrifically injured, he was on his knees in an instant, expression pulled tight with rage and... was that fear?

"Let me help," you coaxed over the cacophony, voice wavering in a way that made you cringe. The man hissed in what you could only assume was pain, clutching his stomach tighter, and you didn't miss the way crimson blood dripped down his hand in a steady, worrying stream. His lips were pulled back, revealing a set of too-sharp canines. "You're bleeding–"

"Leave!" the man bellowed, though it didn't do much in terms of dissuading your approach when he fell flat on his face the next second, body going limp in the shiny mud.

You stared, frozen, at his unconscious body for a bit longer than necessary, making sure he was well and passed out before you tried anything. Once the initial shock had passed, you were at his side in an instant, maneuvering him onto his back to get a better look at the gash in his stomach, which spanned nearly from his hip to where you assumed his bottom-most rib would be. "Shit," you hissed, using the last vestiges of strength in your body to haul his limp form into your arms. He was lighter than expected, making the dash back into the safety of your house thankfully easier.

Once inside, you kicked the door shut and b-lined for the kitchen, carefully laying him down on the dining table. The first thing you noticed about him was his hair–deep brown, with enough curl that not even the pouring rain had managed to force it flat. His face was flecked with dirt, but it didn't look that out of place when you considered the galaxy of freckles already marking his cheeks and nose.

With your arms free, you went to retrieve the first-aid kit, setting it down by his head after recovering a pair of scissors. There was no way you'd be able to maneuver his tunic off in time, so cutting it would have to be the only option. Raising the scissors, you positioned them at the edge of the forest-green fabric, slicing a long, straight line up to his chest, yanking the garment open as quickly as you could, revealing the true scope of the wound.

Your lips parted in a silent gasp.

The gash was nasty; far too long for comfort, with thick, ragged edges that welled crimson blood, spilling down his rain-soaked sides to stain the table beneath. Some even pooled in his navel, dripping downwards to dye the light dusting of hair a striking–

You grabbed a handful of gauze and pressed it to the wound, ignoring the way his flesh jumped beneath your flesh. A quick glance revealed that the man was still passed out, and you considered it a small mercy, especially since there was no way in Hylia you weren't going to have to stitch him up.

You reached into the kit and pulled out a needle, thread, and some salve.

It was going to be a long night.

Hyrule awoke naked.

Not fully, of course, courtesy of the thin sheet covering his body, but the point still stood. The fae sat up with a soft hiss, the sheet falling to reveal his chest and abdomen, wrapped in thick white bandages. There was an ache in his stomach, but it was dull and he felt far too numb to do anything but study his surroundings, one hand resting protectively over the patched wound.

His gaze roamed the room, taking in the eggshell-colored walls, mismatched end tables, and thick, multicolored rug that covered the oak floor. A painting of a river sat on the wall, and the couch he laid on was a soft shade of plum. It appeared to be a living room, though all his years living in the forest made it a bit hard to distinguish.

A sudden, shrill whistle broke through his reverie.

Hyrule froze; hackles raised, ears pinned tightly against damp curls. His bleary mind recognized it as the sound a teakettle made when it was finished boiling, but he was far more preoccupied with the soft shuffle of feet padding closer. His mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario–one where he would be bound and sold to the highest bidder–and he was on his feet before he could blink, the sheet falling to the floor with a soft thud.

A foot crossed the threshold. "Hey, you're aw– oh my Hylia!"

You. It was you.

Until you yelped, covering your face with one hand while the other held a steaming mug. Hyrule couldn't begin to understand why you looked so embarrassed until he glanced down and... oh. OH.

With a gasp, he practically dove down to grab the sheet, ignoring the painful throb in his abdomen at the action. He deftly wrapped the fabric around his waist, careful to avoid the wound. A steady flush consumed his cheeks, and he struggled to remember the last time he had felt so exposed.

You peeked through your fingers, relaxing slightly.

"I'm so sorry," were the first words out of your mouth. "You were bleeding and I wanted to make sure you didn't have any more injuries–" you cut yourself off with a cough, cheeks losing a bit of their redness. "Do you... want tea?"

Tea? Hyrule's gaze flicked to the mug in your hands, just now registering the sweet smell emanating from it. He hesitated. On one hand, there was no way of telling what was in it–until it was too late, that is–but on the other, this was you. You, who fed and played with his sisters with a grin bright enough to rival the sun. You, who had found him in the rain and patched him up without a second thought. You, who looked at him with a concern that had his heart shuddering in his chest.

Slowly, he nodded, not trusting his words. Your lips curved in a soft smile and you gestured for him to sit on the couch, which he did with little complaint. The fabric was soft and the cushions were warm, though the heat emanating from the mug you handed him dwarfed all.

"Do you remember your name?" you asked softly, making no move to approach him, standing in the middle of the room with your arms folded at your stomach.

His brows furrowed. He took a sip of the tea. It was sweet, with the barest taste of honey. "Yes."

"May I know it?"

"Hyrule," he said instantly, the moniker slipping easily off his tongue. Even though he knew you meant no harm, it would take more than a mug of tea to get the name 'Link' from his lips.

"Hyrule," you repeated, testing it out. If you were at all confused by the fact that he shared the same name as the land itself, you made no comment. "I like it."

You... liked it? He was half-tempted to ask you to repeat that. the last time he had shared his name with someone, they spat it like a curse, like it was the moniker of the devil. Maybe it was. Maybe you didn't care.

He stared at the swirling liquid in the cup, trying and failing to ignore the blooming warmth in his chest. This was not how things were supposed to go. "Thank you."

You shifted your weight, and he tried not to track the swayed movement of your hips. "Are you hungry?" you asked after a beat, expression curious.

His mouth opened and closed. Yes, he was starving, but he doubted even someone as kind as you would go out of their way to make food, especially for him, seeing as he couldn't even begin to stomach Hylian food on the best of days. "No."

You chewed your lip, eyes flicking down to his bandaged stomach. Hyrule had the distinct feeling that you didn't believe him. "You should eat," your tone was soft, non-confrontational. "Your wound is–... it'll help you heal."

"I can't," the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. Hyrule clutched the mug close, internally cursing the slip. He had no idea if you knew whether he was fae or not, and even if you did, there was no telling if you would turn him in or--

Your voice tore through the silence, arms folding over your chest. "Can't or won't?"

Hyrule hesitated. He had already admitted it, but it didn't keep the lump in his throat at bay.

"Can't," he all but whispered, unable to meet your eyes.

Silence.

The fae chanced a glance in your direction. You didn't look angry or disappointed, just... contemplative?

"Okay," you spoke slowly, having come to a decision. "But...! If you could, what would you want? Um, hypothetically?"

Hyrule felt the distinct urge to deadpan, though he refrained, taking a large gulp of tea. He kept his gaze trained on you, wondering if it would be enough to get you to let it go. Did he want you to let it go?

You watched him for a few seconds, then sighed, running a hand through your hair. It was then that he noticed the dark, purpling bags beneath your eyes, like you had stayed up all night...

Oh. He suddenly felt a bit bad for being so uncooperative, but you were already gone, leaving him alone in the room. He didn't try calling out, because he had no idea what to say, but the twitching of his hand against the mug said more than a thousand words could.

With a sigh that rivaled yours, he leaned back against the couch, keeping one eye cracked in case you returned.

You didn't, and the silence remained deafening.

Poor Rulie, so distrustful :((((((

[peppymintdreams]

Faithful to the King

Lord Diavolo x MC

The kingdom you called home had been nothing more than a hollow shell for as long as you could remember. The palace gleamed with wealth, each opulent room a monument to corruption, while the people who toiled in the fields and villages were starving, dying under the weight of the royal family's greed. The king and his court were cruel beyond words, their hearts blackened by decadence. It was no secret that they lived lavishly off the sweat and blood of their people. The royal family's cruelty was the very foundation of the kingdom’s decay.

You had grown up in the kingdom’s shadow, a "peasant" by status, though you carried blood that was tied to the higher ranks of the village. Despite your position, you had watched as your people were ground into the dirt. The kingdom needed a savior—a liberator. But who would dare to challenge the monarchy? Who could even hope to do so?

The answer, you found, lay in the realm of the unknown—the Devildom.

You had learned of dark magic, of ancient rituals whispered by those who had dared to walk the forbidden paths. Your desperation had pushed you to study these lost arts, to summon an entity powerful enough to topple the evil that reigned in your kingdom. There was only one being you knew of who could accomplish such a feat: Diavolo, the King of Hell himself.

You knew the price. You had heard the rumors. A deal with a devil was never free, but what choice did you have? If you were to free the kingdom, you would need power—unimaginable power.

On that fateful night, you stood alone in the deepest recesses of your cottage, the air thick with the scent of burning herbs and candles. You muttered the incantation, your voice trembling but determined. The symbols etched into the floor began to glow as a low hum filled the air. With every word, you could feel the air grow colder, darker, as though the very fabric of reality was bending to your will.

And then, before you, a rift tore open in the fabric of the world. The ground trembled, and from the darkness, he emerged.

Diavolo.

The King of the Devildom. A figure that was both mesmerizing and terrifying, his presence commanding and undeniable. His golden eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race, his lips curling into a smile that was both sinister and entrancing.

"Ah, so you’ve summoned me," Diavolo’s voice was rich, deep, like thunder rolling in the distance. "A mortal, no less. You must be desperate, to reach out to me."

You didn’t flinch. "I seek your help," you said, your voice steady despite the shiver running down your spine. "The royal family in my kingdom is evil. They care nothing for their people. They live in decadence, while the kingdom crumbles beneath them. I want to see them fall. I want to see my people free."

A glint of amusement flashed in Diavolo's eyes, but there was something else—a dark interest, a spark of curiosity. He tilted his head, regarding you with a mixture of admiration and caution.

"Bold," he mused, stepping closer. "And what do you offer in return for my help? The price is never small when dealing with someone like me."

"I offer you my soul," you declared, your voice unwavering, though your heart ached at the weight of your words. "In exchange for your aid in bringing down the royal family and claiming the kingdom for myself. I am willing to bind my fate to you, Lord Diavolo, if you will help me."

Diavolo’s smile widened, his sharp fangs glinting in the dim light. "A soul for the fall of a kingdom," he mused, as though testing the weight of your words. "I find your offer... tempting. But are you certain? The cost of such a pact is not one easily undone. You will be mine—body, soul, and everything in between. You will belong to me forever."

You took a deep breath, knowing that the moment you sealed this deal, there would be no turning back. "I would rather be yours, Diavolo, than live in a kingdom ruled by monsters. I will make them pay for their sins."

His laughter rang out then, rich and dark, a sound that sent a shiver of both fear and excitement through you. "Very well, mortal," Diavolo said, his voice soft but laced with power. "Your soul is mine. And in exchange, I shall grant you the power to destroy the royal family and claim the throne as your own. But know this: you will have no other master. You will walk by my side, as my consort, my partner in both power and desire."

You felt a surge of energy, a sudden rush that left your senses reeling as the pact was sealed. The magic crackled in the air, binding you to him in a way that left your very soul trembling. The weight of your decision settled over you like a cloak, but it was not one of regret. It was a cloak of purpose.

Diavolo's eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction. "When you claim the throne, remember this moment," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Remember who made it possible. And remember that it is I who holds the strings of your fate, mortal."

As the rift between the realms closed, you were left standing alone in the aftermath, your mind racing with the enormity of what had just transpired. But the excitement, the anticipation of what was to come, burned brighter than any fear you had. The royal family would fall, and you would be the one to deliver their doom. The kingdom would be free. And once it was, Diavolo’s kingdom would have its own place in your heart, and you would have no regrets.

But as the darkness of your pact settled in, you knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever be the same. You had given your soul, and now, you would be bound to the devil himself. And yet, despite the price, a strange thrill coursed through your veins.

You would bring them to their knees. You would bring them all to their knees. And in the end, you would rule by Diavolo’s side.

The throne would be yours, and the kingdom would be free—forever.

[mikaikaika]

Pili warning Lukey about his deal with the devil