Dead Plate Oneshots Perverted Mortal

It’s only been like 10 hours since I wrote the last oneshot but I just got this idea and didn’t want to wait any longer

Vincent Charbonneau, former terror of Hell and eternal lord of darkness, glared at the filthy kitchen counter with an expression that could make the bravest warrior cower in terror. He had once commanded legions of demons, sown chaos across realms, and reduced entire kingdoms to ash with nothing more than a flick of his wrist.

Now, he was scrubbing a burnt pot with a sponge.

“This is *degrading*,” Vincent muttered under his breath, scraping at something that may have once been food but now resembled a blackened lump of charcoal glued to the bottom of the pot. “I am a demon lord, a harbinger of destruction, and yet here I am, doing… chores.”

Behind him, a voice—far too chipper and carefree for the situation—called out, “Hey, Vince! You missed a spot on the stove.”

Vincent’s eye twitched. He slowly turned his head, glaring at Rody Lamoree, the man responsible for this whole nightmare. Rody, the idiot who had somehow summoned him from the depths of Hell with what must have been the most botched ritual in the history of summoning magic. And yet, despite everything, here Vincent was—bound to this… this *imbecile*.

Rody grinned at him from the couch, lounging back with his arms behind his head, feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re doing a great job, by the way. Really killing it with the cleaning.”

“I *am not* your maid!” Vincent snarled, dropping the pot with a loud clatter and stalking over to where Rody sat. “I am a demon, a creature of unimaginable power, a—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Rody interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re super powerful, can destroy worlds, yadda yadda. But, honestly? You’re way more useful like this.”

Vincent’s fists clenched, the air around him crackling with dark energy as his patience wore thin. “I could burn this entire building to the ground,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that made the lights flicker ominously. “I could turn you into ash with a single thought.”

“Sure, but then who’s gonna clean up the mess afterward?” Rody said, completely unfazed. In fact, he looked *amused*.

Vincent stared at him, his brain momentarily short-circuiting. Was this man *stupid* or just… yes. Stupid. That had to be it.

“How did you even manage to summon me in the first place?” Vincent asked, his voice dripping with disdain. “Someone as idiotic as you should have incinerated themselves halfway through the ritual.”

“Oh, that?” Rody waved his hand like it was no big deal. “I found this old book online. It was listed under ‘antique curiosities,’ so I thought it’d be fun to try. Followed the instructions, lit a few candles, and—bam! You showed up.”

Vincent felt something inside him die. A demon of his stature, summoned by accident, like some kind of party trick. He took a deep, calming breath. “You summoned me using a stupid book from the internet?”

“Yep,” Rody said cheerfully. “Pretty wild, huh? I mean, who knew it’d actually work? And now I’ve got my very own demon maid.”

Vincent’s left eye twitched violently. “I. Am. Not. A. Maid.”

Rody sat up a little, grinning with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Nah, I’m pretty sure you are. I mean, look at you. You’re wearing an apron.”

Vincent glanced down at himself, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the apron tied around his waist. *When did I put this on?!* His rage boiled over, but before he could unleash his fury, Rody let out a low whistle.

“And you know,” Rody added, leaning forward with a playful smirk, “you look *real* good in that apron, by the way. Kinda fits the whole ‘sexy demon maid’ aesthetic. Ever thought about trying out one of those frilly French maid outfits?”

Vincent froze, his mind struggling to process what Rody had just said. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” Rody said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, “you could really pull it off. You’ve already got that whole dark, mysterious vibe going on. Throw in a cute little maid outfit, and—whoa, man, I’d never leave the house.”

Vincent stared at him, his face blank. Was this mortal… *hitting on him*? “Are you… flirting with me?”

Rody’s grin widened. “Maybe I am. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Vincent’s brain short-circuited again. This man—this ridiculous, perverted, *idiot*—wasn’t even afraid of him. In fact, he seemed *into* it.

“I could incinerate you where you sit,” Vincent said, his voice low and menacing.

“Oh, sure, big guy,” Rody said, waving him off again. “But you wouldn’t. You like me too much.”

“I *loathe* you.”

“Sure you do,” Rody said, laughing. “But you’re still here, right? Still doing all my chores, still cleaning up after me, and I gotta say—” He leaned back, arms behind his head again. “—it’s kinda hot, y’know? Having my very own demon butler.”

“I AM NOT YOUR BUTLER!”

“Right, right,” Rody said with a wink. “Maid, then.”

Vincent’s hand twitched. He was *so close* to snapping. Just one little push, and he could turn this human into a pile of ash. But then… he’d be stuck in this apartment, *still* doing chores, *still* dealing with the mess.

*Why am I still here?* Vincent wondered, despair creeping into his soul.

“You know,” Rody said, interrupting Vincent’s inner torment, “if you’re gonna be my demon maid, we should really get you that outfit.”

Vincent glared at him. “There will be no outfit.”

Rody pouted, which Vincent found both confusing and infuriating. “Aw, come on! You’d look so cute!”

“I will destroy you.”

“Sure, after you finish folding the laundry, right?”

Vincent’s hands clenched into fists. He could feel the dark power bubbling inside him, begging to be unleashed. But then… he thought about the laundry. The dirty dishes. The disaster that was Rody’s kitchen. If he destroyed Rody now, he’d be stuck cleaning up for eternity.

Maybe… maybe he could endure this a little longer. Just until he found a way out of this infernal contract.

“You should be grateful I don’t rip your soul from your body,” Vincent said, glaring down at Rody, who was now flipping through a fashion magazine. “I could make your existence a living hell.”

“Eh, not into that whole ‘hellfire and brimstone’ thing,” Rody replied, waving him off yet again. “But if you wanna do that *outfit* thing, now we’re talking. You’d be the hottest maid in the underworld. I’m sure I could find one online somewhere—oh! Maybe with some lace, or even fishnets?”

Vincent’s mouth fell open. “Fishnets? Are you insane?”

Rody looked thoughtful, completely ignoring Vincent’s growing exasperation. “Hmm. Maybe something leather? That could work too. It’s gotta fit with the whole ‘dangerous demon’ thing, right?”

Vincent was *this close* to losing it. “I will not wear anything.”

Rody blinked. “Nothing at all? Whoa, Vince, I didn’t know you were that bold.”

Vincent’s face flushed an unholy shade of red. “That’s not what I—*Enough*!” He grabbed the nearest dish towel, throwing it at Rody’s face. “I am done with this conversation.”

Rody laughed as the towel hit him square in the face, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “Aw, come on, Vince. Don’t be shy. You’re *clearly* into this whole demon-maid thing too. Admit it.”

Vincent glowered. “I will admit nothing.”

Rody leaned back again, grinning like an idiot. “Sure, sure. But just think about it. You could rock that maid outfit, *and* I’ll even let you boss me around. It’s a win-win!”

Vincent rubbed his temples, wondering what he had done to deserve this. He was a powerful demon lord, bound to an idiot who thought he’d look good in a maid outfit. *This* was his life now.

“I hate you,” Vincent muttered.

“Love you too, Vince,” Rody said with a wink.

Vincent glared at him, fists clenching. “If you call me ‘Vince’ one more time, I swear I’ll—”

“—burn my soul, incinerate my body, whatever,” Rody interrupted, waving him off. “But you’ll still clean the bathroom after, right?”

Vincent’s patience snapped like a brittle twig. With a flick of his wrist, the dish towel in his hand burst into flames. “You are *testing* my patience,” Vincent growled, eyes burning with literal fire as he glared at Rody from across the room.

“Oh, am I?” Rody raised an eyebrow, leaning in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You sure it’s just your patience, Vince?”

Vincent’s eyes widened, his face going from ghostly pale to bright red in an instant. “Wh-what are you implying?” he stammered, the fire on his fingertips sputtering out like a wet matchstick.

Rody’s grin stretched even wider, leaning forward with a predatory glint in his eye. “Oh, you know what I’m implying.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You’ve got that whole evil demon thing going on, but deep down, you’re really just a—”

“Do *not* finish that sentence!” Vincent snapped, his voice cracking halfway through, sounding a lot less intimidating than he intended.

But Rody wasn’t backing down. If anything, he seemed even more delighted by the reaction. “—softie at heart,” he finished with a dramatic sigh. “You’re trying so hard to be all scary and evil, but let’s be real, Vince—you’re a total bottom.”

Vincent’s brain screeched to a halt. “*What*?!”

“Yeah,Vince,” Rody continued, as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the demon’s mind. “You’re all, ‘I’m gonna burn your soul!’ and ‘Fear me, mortal!’ But look at you! You’re blushing!” He pointed, laughing. “It’s cute.”

Vincent sputtered, his hands trembling with the urge to set something—*anything*—on fire. “I… I am not *cute*!”

“Aw, come on,” Rody teased, taking a step closer, practically looming over Vincent now. “You’re like a tiny little ball of rage and flames. Adorable.”

“I am the Lord of the Abyss!” Vincent’s voice cracked again, but he tried to cover it up with a snarl. “I have enslaved realms! I have devoured souls!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rody waved a hand dismissively. “Big scary demon, blah blah. But, like, how many of those souls thought you’d look amazing in a maid outfit? Just curious.”

Vincent’s entire body seized up, and for a second, he thought his non existent soul might actually leave his body. This was not happening. *This could not be happening.* He clenched his fists, but no flames came. Nothing. Just pure, unadulterated *panic.*

“You’re imagining it, aren’t you?” Rody said, leaning in close enough that Vincent could smell the faint scent of cologne and stupidity. “You in a cute little apron, with those frilly lace things. It’s okay, Vince. I’m into it too. Like, way into it.”

“I… I am not… *wearing* a frilly apron!” Vincent finally choked out, trying to step back, but there was a wall behind him. *Trapped.*

Rody’s smirk only grew wider, leaning in just enough to make Vincent’s stomach flip. “I dunno, Vince. I think you’d look great. And besides—” Rody’s eyes sparkled mischievously “—I’m your *master,* aren’t I? Shouldn’t you be doing whatever *I* say?”

Vincent’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. “You… You… are an *absolute pervert*!”

“And proud of it!” Rody laughed, leaning back with his hands on his hips like he’d just won some grand prize. “Come on, Vince. You know you wanna play along. I could, uh, even get you one of those cute little headbands—”

A burst of flame shot from Vincent’s hand, missing Rody’s head by inches and singeing the corner of a cushion instead. But instead of being terrified, Rody just laughed harder.

“*That* was hot,” Rody said, his voice dropping an octave, and Vincent wished he could sink into the floor and disappear forever. “Damn Vince, you really know how to keep things interesting.”

Vincent was flustered beyond words. His hands shook as he tried to reign in his powers, flames flickering harmlessly in the air as his mind reeled from the relentless onslaught of innuendo and mortifying scenarios Rody kept throwing at him.

“I… I will *not* be your maid!” Vincent finally managed, though his voice came out in more of a squeak than the threatening growl he was aiming for.

Rody raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because you’ve already been cleaning up after me. You’re like, halfway there.”

Vincent opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out. He was trapped. *Completely* trapped.

“You’re… impossible,” Vincent finally muttered, covering his face with one hand to hide the ever-deepening blush on his cheeks.

“You love it,” Rody teased, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. “Besides, it could be worse. At least I haven’t asked you to wear fishnets yet.”

“*Yet*?!”

Rody winked. “Hey, I’ve got a whole list of things I wanna see you in. You’re my demon maid now, remember?”

Vincent stared at him, utterly defeated. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be the one in control. He was supposed to be the terrifying demon overlord. But here he was, blushing like a schoolgirl while Rody—*Rody* of all people—teased him about wearing aprons and fishnets.

“Please,” Vincent whispered, his voice trembling with embarrassment. “Just… stop talking.”

“Nope!” Rody chirped, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “We’re just getting started, Vince. Now, about that maid outfit. I’m thinking something classic—black and white, with a little lace. Maybe even some stockings to—”

Vincent groaned, burying his face in his hands. “*I hate you.*”

Rody just laughed. “You say that now, but wait until you see how good you look in an apron.” 

Vincent was caught between a rock and a hard place—or rather, between a perverted idiot and the literal inferno of embarrassment burning inside him. His once unshakable confidence as a demon lord had been reduced to nothing by the constant barrage of ridiculous comments coming from his new ‘master.’

Rody, of course, was having the time of his life.

“Seriously, Vince,” Rody continued, lounging on the couch like a king in his court. “You ever think about expanding your demonic services? Maybe throw in a little… uh, personal touch with the cleaning. Not that I mind what you’re doing now, but—”

Vincent’s hands lit up with fire, and this time he didn’t hesitate. With a flick of his index finger, he shot a small flame toward Rody’s head, singeing just the tip of his hair.

“Hey!” Rody yelped, rubbing the burnt spot. But to Vincent’s horror, he didn’t look remotely upset. Instead, Rody grinned. “Dude, was that supposed to hurt? ‘Cause it was kinda hot.”

Vincent’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You… *enjoyed* that?”

Rody leaned forward, licking his lips just enough to be thoroughly unsettling. “You’ve got no idea, Vince. A demon setting my hair on fire? It’s… kinda kinky.”

Vincent’s brain short-circuited. The flames that had ignited in his hands earlier flickered out completely as he stood frozen, unsure how to process what he had just heard. Did Rody just admit to being into… *that*?

“You—you’re—what is *wrong* with you?” Vincent sputtered, stepping back, the tips of his ears turning crimson. This wasn’t in the demon handbook! There was no section about dealing with a summoner who *liked* getting his hair set on fire.

Rody shrugged casually, running a hand through his slightly scorched hair. “Hey, if you’re gonna do the whole fiery demon act, you might as well lean into it, right? Plus, I’ve got a thing for the whole demon maid aesthetic.” He gave Vincent an exaggerated wink. “You know, ‘devoted servant to my every need’ type deal. Gets me going.”

Vincent’s mouth fell open, and for a moment, he couldn’t form coherent thoughts. Rody, who had summoned him like a complete moron and wasted his potential as an evil overlord, was not only perverted but *into* this bizarre master-servant dynamic?

“I am not some… *fantasy maid*!” Vincent finally blurted, but even as he said it, he realized his voice had lost any semblance of authority. He sounded flustered, helpless—*defeated*.

“Not yet,” Rody shot back with a cheeky grin. “But don’t worry, we can ease into it. You’re already doing great! You cleaned the place up, and that fire thing you do? Top-notch.”

“Shut up!” Vincent’s voice cracked again, his hands trembling as flames flickered once more, though now more out of frustration than intimidation. “*I will not entertain this nonsense!*”

“Come on, just admit it,” Rody teased, leaning back on the couch again, stretching out like a satisfied cat. “You’d make an adorable demon maid. I’d even buy you a little bell to wear. That way, when you’re not setting stuff on fire, I can hear you jingling around while you’re cleaning up.”

Vincent’s face burned hotter than any flame he could conjure. “I will *not* wear a bell!”

Rody’s grin was pure wickedness. “Yes you will.”

Vincent let out a frustrated groan, his hands twitching with the urge to hurl fireballs, but knowing it wouldn’t stop the onslaught of perverted nonsense coming from Rody’s mouth. The worst part? Rody wasn’t even scared of him. He was just… entertained. The demon’s attempts at being terrifying had backfired in the worst way possible.

“I could burn this entire apartment to the ground,” Vincent muttered darkly, his voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and pent-up rage.

“Yeah, but then where would we live?” Rody said, completely unbothered. “You’re stuck with me, remember? Plus, let’s be real. You’d never burn the place down. You’re way too attached to that cute little broom.”

Vincent blinked, looking down at the broom leaned against the kitchen counter as if it had betrayed him. “*I am not attached to the broom.*”

Rody chuckled, leaning closer and whispering, “*That’s exactly what someone who’s attached to the broom would say.*”

Vincent’s face flushed again, and he looked at the broom like it was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. He shot Rody a venomous glare, but Rody’s smirk only deepened, clearly enjoying every second of his torment.

“Okay, okay,” Rody said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll ease off… for now. But seriously, Vince, you’re really growing on me. You’re like a moody, fire-spitting housecat that cleans up after me. It’s kinda hot.”

“Stop calling me *hot!*” Vincent exploded, but it wasn’t in the fiery way he wanted. Instead, it came out as a high-pitched squeak, which only made Rody laugh even harder.

Rody’s laughter echoed around the room as Vincent’s pride crumbled into a pile of ash. There was no winning with this guy. No amount of fire or hellish power would save him from the sheer ridiculousness of his current situation.

Vincent collapsed onto the chair, burying his face in his hands as Rody watched with amusement.

“Hey, cheer up, Vince,” Rody said with a grin. “You’re doing a great job. And who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll warm up to the whole demon maid thing. You know, once you get the frills right.”

“*I will never wear frills,*” Vincent muttered weakly, though at this point, even *he* wasn’t sure if he believed himself.

Rody stood up, patting Vincent on the shoulder. “We’ll see, Vince. We’ll see.” Then, as he headed toward the kitchen, he called over his shoulder, “Don’t burn the place down while I’m making dinner. I like my meals spicy, but not *that* spicy.”

Vincent groaned again, slumping down in the chair as the realization settled in: He was completely and utterly screwed. And not in the way demons typically expected when dealing with humans.

This was going to be hell.

And not the fun kind.