#𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 — 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄

[arcanepactguile]

💋

💋!

The flickering light from the fireplace was throwing shadows over the two bodies presently entangled on the couch. The television was turned on, but it was in the next room, so the count down to the new year was nearly missed. Extermination Day was on the verge of coming down hard on everybody, which the Radio Demon had saw as a prime opportunity to go running back to where he had spent his life alone, isolated... not because he was running scared with his tail between his legs.

Stretched out over Angel Dust's longer body, Alastor shifted to inch higher up, pushing his hands and elbows into the couch seat in preference to putting his weight straight into the addict's organs. The migration north was short; propped up over his lover's chest, his face blank, Alastor leaned in to press a firm kiss to Angel's closed lips, tasting the bubbly they’d been sharing moments ago.

"Happy New Year."

The buck's tail wagging, giving away his scheme, the solemn Radio Demon dragged his tongue along the underside of the spider's jaw, lapping at his pulse points.

“Sooo…. Do you feel like fooling around? I think the others are still out partying.”

[arcanepactguile]

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 / ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ⸻ ｢ 🕯️ ｣

@justiceiswrath ꜱᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ:

Something for start of sinday.

Satan has attached a collar to him. A bright ruby collar with a bell on it.

"I do hope you are prepare today." He has trim down his claws and smooth them out and he licked his maw already. <3

Playing with the bell, trying to look down at it but failing, he can still tell what sort it is. The weight, the sound, and the shape.

Staring back up at his Master, Alastor's grin had preceded the moment the Sin had finished bending down to put it on.

"A cow bell? Why, you really do know me inside and out, don't you??

I've been ready, as a matter of fact. I was about to go looking for you."

Formerly lounging on the nest of pillows he'd stolen found? for his own stall in the barn, the buck had been growing desperate for relief. The engorged udders spilling out between his tensed thighs were fairly obvious in need of some action.

Canting his head, self-conscious, the Radio Demon added under his breath — "𝑀𝑜𝑜."

[arcanepactguile]

Finding the gift left out for him under the lobby's Sinsmas tree, out in full view let it be known, Alastor had spirited away the unknown package away from prying eyes into his rooms. 

There, at his own fireside, did he have the privacy to open it. The envelope attached to the gift had Angel's handwriting on it — this wasn't the secret that he wanted to hide. It was the card’s message, and whatever was under the giftwrap. 

It was heavy. There weren't any clues as to it's identity. Yet upon opening it, it quickly became clear just what it was, especially coming from him: a black and red leather knotted flogger. Rising from his seat to sidle over to the fireplace next to his winged armchair, Alastor casually threw in the giftwrap to burn, the green flames taking a moment to lick the plastic-coated paper before the flames took and the proof of the secret gift were eventually smoldering. 

Twirling the flogger in the other hand, re-reading the greeting card again, Alastor's eye kept being drawn back to the last part of the scandalous message — “I’ll see you either in my room or yours tonight, I’m sure.”

It wasn't the usual kind of festive, season's pleasantries that people got for Christmas… That didn't mean it was going to be UNpleasant. Depending on whom the BDSM implement was used on. The implications in his clandestine lover’s card were to realised tonight, for sure, that much was certain. 

Tossing the card into the fire to join the burning embers once he had read it thoroughly again for the dozenth time: raking his fingers through his hair as he studied the toy in silence, the Radio Demon's roguish smile was catching up to the flash of emotion lighting up his formerly impassive expression.

They were definitely going to have some fun tonight.

[arcanepactguile]

@hellsgreatestsideshow ꜱᴇɴᴛ: 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄

“If I dared you to kiss me, I bet you wouldn’t do it. You’d probably be too afraid you’d actually like it.”

Wrinkling his nose in exaggerated distaste, Alastor shot back an offended glance, returning to his morning newspaper, irritation evident in the way he had stiffened the pages. Intent on enjoying his breakfast routine in peace, forever after the King of Hell had taken uup residency in his Hotel, he had been found it increasingly difficult to enjoy said peace.

The morning disrupted so soon, it was no wonder Alastor's mood had soured. Lowering his paper to address the King properly, sounding bitter, Alastor hadn't replied with the manner you were supposed to engage in the presence of Royalty.

‘That sounds like projection to me.

I dare say you won't live to see tomorrow, if you tell a single soul. A reasonable request, if you ask me. How else can I prove you wrong again?”

Folding his newspaper, holding back a disgruntled sigh. Alastor stood up from his seat at the breakfast table to lean over it — not in a hurry to get the deed done, Alastor's arrogant smirk was hidden from view behind one hand lifted to cradle one half of Lucifer's face. Shielding the firm kiss was achieved, covered by his hand as if they were sharing a conspiratorial whisper.

Pressing his lips to his King’s without waiting for permission, Alastor could taste a trace of honey and sugar from the pancakes the King had been indulging. The kiss unpredictably lingered, the Radio Demon pushing his weight harder into the cluttered table through his other hand supporting his inelegant posture, back rigid and shoulders curled forward as if to further pull Lucifer in. Eyes closed, the sinner's expression was melting, dissolving into a look of utter bliss.

Breaking the passionate kiss to laugh softly, Alastor kept his eyes closed, lazily sweeping his thumb over his King's lips to tease him — sinking the thumbpad into Lucifer's mouth, slyly preventing speech.

"I win. Where's my compensation, Your Majesty?"

[arcanepactguile]

"Hey, Smiles? Ya busy?" Some shit went down with his gramps that he needed to get away for a moment. And his feet just led him here in hopes he'd find the Radio Demon, which he did. "He asked to go to one of the backrooms with him and once they had, the spider "If ya ain't here wit' anyone else, could we..." His voice trailed off. He reached out to try and gently take his hand as his eyes drifted downwards. "I just don't wanna be alone." He wasn't thinking about sex or getting drunk but he was too nervous to admit he just wanted to be held. /Doesn't have to become a thread but thought I'd send something cute. Cute would be really nice, so hope this is ok~

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 / ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ⸻ ｢ 🕯️ ｣

The frantic knocking at the door had stirred the Radio Demon out of a dreadfully boring reverie spent in his study, aimlessly poring over some books, so anything that would take him away from the pointless endeavour was welcomed eagerly.

"Angel...!"

Opening the door a crack to find the troubled youth stand there wasn't something he had been thinking about. The foot soldier was liable to turn up at any hour, just in a better mood than the one he was wearing now.

The Overlord's eyes flicking to do a quick survey of the space behind the other man — upon seeing no evidence of intrusive neighbours or member of Angel's dangerous family, Alastor had hastily pulled Angel Dust inside his private home. He knew Angel's privacy was circumspect, which was fine by Alastor; any reason to shield the spider demon at his place was a good one.

The door locked again behind them, he had promptly yanked his friend into a faithful hug; wrapping his arms around Angel's torso and crushing his arms to his sides, single-minded to have Angel understand he was accepted here. The buck wearing a silk loungewear robe for the day, feeling lazy and uninspired to choose something else, the heat of the arachnid's body was quickly leeched through the flimsy material. Applying another tighter squeeze, Alastor had to deal with their height difference.

Breathing out into the demon's thick chest fur, compromised by the awkward position, Alastor's tone was warm, not accusatory.

"Angel, you don't need to tell me everything. Not one thing.

I know. You wanted to escape."

[arcanepactguile]

“ It’s sinsmas, baby, an’ I’m celebratin’ the sin ‘f lust! An’ lil’ ole me can’t unwrap myself. I need a big,” eyes flicker downwards then back up, “stron’ buck ta get these ribbons off me. Ya ‘no where I can find one, Smiles? Fer a lil’ incentive, there ain’t nothin’ underneath.” /just an ask cause Angel thinks he’s clever. Thought I’d send something because Xmas ends on my end~ just a fun ask.

UNPROMPTED

The silly arachnid must have uncovered the last of the eggnog… it certainly explained his festive attitude. Either that, or the pure liquor itself that was used for the drink.

Unfazed by his lover’s rambunctious behaviour, Alastor had a premeditated response planned for this kind of dilemma.

“You’ve come to the right person, my dear. Don't settle for an amateur,” the Radio Demon inferred with some derision — ending the mock chastisement by bringing a hand up to tug at the bow on Angel's chest. “Why spoil the surprise? Aren't gifts meant to be surprises? What's my motivation to finish…?”

Behind Angel Dust, a set of black tentacles were weaving through the air: the tendrils coiling around the spider demon's ankles, Alastor's smile was widening.

“Do you mind if I employ some extra help? “

[arcanepactguile]

A ripple passes through the abyss as body and soul were severed. Eyes opened in the nothing. The eyes noticed him. Talons and tentacles unfurled from the nonlight. Countless maws yawned wide. They were glad to welcome him. They are eager to claim their due. They are hungry. And from this there can be no return...

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 / ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ⸻ ｢ 🕯️ ｣

At what point do you decide when to draw the line, to stop fooling yourself that nightmares, even dreams — are harmless…?

Chest and back rising and falling rapidly, parts of the bedsheets adhered to his bare skin with cold fear, the Radio Demon had not bolted upright in bed, but had scrambled backwards in an effort to dodge the reach of those tentacles and claws, closing ground quickly to catch him. The buck's sweat had soaked through the bedding in his sleep, the transparent material rank with the scent of fear-induced perspiration.

In his panic, he had enough momentum to heave himself back to escape the assortment of limbs targetting him; in real life this turned out badly, with a sheet tangled around his legs, the tightness of the wrapped fabric mistaken for the coils of the unseen monstrosity’s tentacles. Alastor had made it only as far as the headboard: crashing into it with a bang, an empty liquor bottle rocking before it tipped over onto the floor from the nightstand. The bedside furniture absorbing the impact, he had woken up the very instant the serpentine tendrils had finished creeping up his legs to wind around his waist.

Simultaneously dragging him closer to it's gaping maws, the monster itself did not appear to obey the laws of physics, it’s form distorted and ever changing whenever he had thought he had recognised it.

Once his bound feet had gone over into the darkness inside one of it's mouths, disappearing into infinity as it seemed, Alastor had let loose a piercing scream: throwing his arms over to shield his face, claws crooked to clutch at nothing, in spite of a sharp talon extending to quieten the resistant deer by piercing his body through his chest like pinning a moth for collection.

Other tentacles were shimmying up his body, delving up through the openings of his pants' cuffs, under his coat, gliding over his shirt and sleeves to impede his frantic bucking as it dragged him into one of it's larger maws — the heat of it's wide tongue pushing underneath his legs to roll the tip into the small of the Radio Demon's back instilling a dread that this was only the beginning in the confused demon.

Gasping for breath, throat dry and painful, Alastor's eyes were glassy — tears leaving tracks down his flushed cheeks. Staring into the darkness that filled his room, he couldn't be sure that the nightmare was entirely a fragment of something not even real.

Slowly lowering his arms, tremors in his hunched shoulders persistent, the buck had to persuade himself that the nightmare was not a warning. Whereas dreamscapes often explained, even predicted reality, something so terrible as this terrifying vision couldn't allude to something in his future… Or somebody.

The back of his head where he had slammed into the headboard was throbbing dully; the deer demon wasn't afraid about anything like a concussion, but if his supposed screams had woken up others. Resisting the urge to stumble out of bed to triple-check that he had locked the door when he had first retired this night, Alastor's fear kept him bedridden.

Sinking back down into the unmade bed, at a loss on what to do, the buck coped with the vivid hallucination his usual way: curling up into a tight ball on his side, arms wrapped around his knees, burying his tears-streaked face into the gap between his folded arms and heaving chest.

The darkness was soothing, despite the limitless darkness enveloping him and the unidentified monster from the nightmare were partly to blame for his reaction to it. Alastor had always avoided sleeping, unless it was absolutely necessary. Falling asleep during the day was something the buck actually preferred to a night's sleep disturbed by nightmares. Chronic insomnia was an illness accepted and dismissed by society. It was better to 'pretend' and cite the inability to sleep than to admit he suffered from nightmares nearly everytime he closed his eyes.

Shuddering exhales were the only sounds coming from the Radio Demon's bed, the misshapen lump under the covers motionless save for his fear-stricken breathing.

[arcanepactguile]

Michael had been right in assuming that the demon he ended up grave robbing—grave digging? Corpse disposal?—with had been a resident of the hotel. Not just a resident, however, apparently the local Hotelier and Radio Demon. Once he has finally choked their name from him, he had then needed the rest of the information and conduct their final business in the middle of Tombstone Park.

That aside, he hadn’t honestly expected to run into a member of the hotel burying a dead body. Much less one on the verge of dying. Saving a sinner’s life won’t endear him to his twin, or even Heaven truthfully, but it as a necessity. What Michael was trying to acquire through doing it anyway, was just information. That, and to endear himself to Charlie a bit.

It won’t do to study down here if the Princess of Hell was walking around on eggshells around him.

Alastor was… an interesting puzzle for that. Not entirely useful to him, yet, but not useless either. He was still trying to figure him out and apparently the demon felt—as if he owed him? For saving his life. Which, well, he probably did. Michael didn’t particularly care though. He, so far, found the demon interesting to be around. And, as currently the only hotel resident not avoiding Michael like a plague or looking at him in terror, it was helpful.

If nothing else than to just stave off the loneliness.

The other way he did that? Well, what Michael always did. Shutting himself away and working. He’d carved through his paperwork until there was nothing left and then just started working with yarn. Crocheting always eased quite a bit of the stress in him, he truly enjoyed it, and by the time it was at the end—he held two little love birds. Adorable, squishy, Michael adored birds.

There was a holiday today, wasn’t there? Maybe he could give them away, just for fun. One of them did look like a certain resident squishy demon if they squinted. Humming softly Michael picked them up and then left his bedroom.

Alastor lived attached to the radio tower, of course. Michael used that as a waypoint and eventually stumbled across a red door. He knocked a few times and then let himself in, figuring if it was unlocked that was invitation enough. Closing the door behind him he made his way further in and glanced around around.

“Hello? Alastor? I brought a gift!” Cute little squishy bird gifts. Moving over toward the table in the oddly colored off space dimension, he sat the little birds down on the table. “I’ll leave them here. If you don’t like them, just put them back in my room.”

Credit.

The footfalls were light. As if their owner were wary about inviting a repercussion, strolling into another's private workspace without permission. No matter. The visitor was the newest resident of his Hotel. They earned a free pass. Curiousity piqued, Alastor's reinforced resolution to get to the bottom of his new tenant's attachment to the Hotel absolved the guest's arrogant entrance.

Curls of darkness unfurling from the floor, not directly behind Michael, the emergence of the quiet Radio Demon imaginably was gleaned as a trick of the light. He knew better. An Arch Angel possessed stronger cognisance and powers than your average Joe, Hell or Heaven-born.

From that night on from the Arch Angel settling the matter of... his wound, Alastor's routine did not suffer. His ego did. Maintaining his aloof, reclusive ways, skulking around the grounds and mostly keeping to himself in his rooms like he had started doing after the battle, nobody was the wiser. Pretending he remained injured, that the Angelic steel wound grieved him, was a mask put on in the presence of others. Alone. It was freedom.

All thanks to this man.

Piercing red eyes boring into the back of the other's skull, feeling the swell of anger welling up inside him, the longer and harder he reassesed him, the more his resentful mood tightened it's talons around his beating heart.

Setting himself up for the trap of debt was not something he was proud of. Although, Michael had insisted he was not owed anything, Alastor in his disdain had scorned that guarantee — nobody did anything for free.

And now here he was, snooping in the Radio Tower.

"A gift? What's inspired you this time — renegaged on my offer, have you?"

His tone pleasant, the Overlord crossing over to stop behind, looking over Michael's shoulder in feigned indifference, he wasn't expecting an answer to the jab. The offer was still on the table — he hadn't been joking over sharing gossip about his hellish brother. That link bothered him to some degree. Winding up two opposing brothers, hopefully stirring up interesting drama here or above, presented an easier battleground than the empty landscape that was the Hotel post-war.

What Michael had placed on the table were a pair of... things. Soft things. Colourful.

Their sudden appearance had swiftly killed the next tease on the verge of leaving his crafty tongue; the unnaturally quiet Radio Demon not speaking for another beat as he looked on in silence.

"These—?"

Sounding skeptical, Alastor roughly shouldered Michael aside, in a blink grabbing the two gifts together in one hand to inspect them up close.

Turning them around in a full 360°, searching their plush forms for any hidden secrets or details, they appeared to be regular — toys? Decor? Whatever they were, they were nonthreatening.

Captivated by the rows of tiny stitches, turning slightly on the spot to address his modest saviour, Alastor was half lost in thought. Pushing the two birds together, face-to-face, he was absently comparing their identical make-up, judging if they were so identical to come across as something factory made than by hand.

He couldn't remember the last time a gift was left for him.

"You made these? I never suspected you had a soft spot. How.... strange."

[arcanepactguile]

He is, of course, now here for the demonstration. If there is ever a chance to learn something then Michael wants to be the first one in line to be educated. You never know what you might be taught if you just take a few seconds to actually educate yourself. Which was what Michael loved, more than anything else, being educated.

So with the suggestion that the room was unlocked he of course made his way inside, eagerly making several steps closer toward Alastor with wanting eyes. Because he expects to be handed a book, of course, something he can read to further his education of sinners and Hell in general. Maybe he’ll even learn something about his brother if he takes the time to listen.

Doubtful. But he’ll attempt.

“I’m listening.”

PROMPTED FROM THIS.

“Surprising, out of the entire Hotel, the town, it is YOU who wants to know about ‘Heat’.

You asked for a demonstration,” Regarding his newest tenant with a perfectly straight face, calm and collected, what was raging inside was a fierce battle.

To humour him, play along and on a serious note explain to the apparently uneducated Angel the definition of the Heat cycle. He had the strong impression Michael wasn't pulling his chain. The charming lad did look so serious, so determined to know.

On the other hand, warping the definition was a big load of fun that was begging to be capitalisd on.

Hands clasped behind his back, standing to attention in the military form, the Radio Demon had waited patiently for the curious Angel to invite himself in; having cleared his afternoon, he wanted this rare encounter to himself. No time constraints. No distractions.

The Overlord's pinned smile stretching wider, an ear barely twitching in acknowledgement — behind Michael, Alastor's Mirror Shadow doppelganger had materialised silently, dramatically tiptoeing over to shut and lock the door with a softened click of the lock.

“Be a good student, and I’ll reward you with extra credit.”

Stepping forward, the amused Radio Demon brought up one long finger to lift Michael's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. The sharp tip of his claw pricking the other's jutted adam's apple, Alastor hardened his gaze, ears turned in to triangulate on his stern apprentice.

“ ‘Heat’ is the curious phenomenon, where the individual has to deal with the overwhelming allure of a suitable mate. Normally, it ir seasonal. It can be induced. All genders experience it.”

Here, the Radio Demon starts to dilute the truth, and infiltrate the Angel’s gullible nature for his own humorous agenda. See what sticks. Relish the fallout. Perhaps… ease the tension budding between them.

“This is where fact is often swapped for lies.

The truth is, genders are only attracted to their own.

Procreation has nothing to do with it.

For instance, if a male of one species does not satisfy the primal urge to copulate, with another male, he will die.

He will bleed out through every orifice. He will suffer unimaginable horrors of the mind. He will never know peace, the need for sleep, the desire to eat. Fur or —" pausing, inclining his head, Alastor contemplatiny his next fib, the Shadow was energetically mimicking a dove with his hands together like a shadoe puppet "— or feathers, will fall out in clumps. The females will feast upon his carcass until there is naught but bones left.

He will leave behind a legacy — others will speak of him in hushed tones, whispers in the streets and alleys, ‘why did he not heed his body? He was indeed a coward!’

The first sign of a ‘Heat’ cycle is the quickening of a pulse, a shortness of breath, uncertainty rules his heart, a vacuum inside him that he can never… seem to fill.”

Staring pointedly, Alastor's tone gentle and sympathetic, mindful not to pay attention to the Shadow, whom was intently listening in on their gripping lesson. Lurking in the threshold, It obeyed. In the interim.

“Is this why you've come here? Is this a cry for help, Michael?”

[arcanepactguile]

“What do you call a radio that's always talking? A blabbercast!

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 / ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ⸻ ｢ 🕯️ ｣

"That's the best you could do?

Wait... Does that mean... "

Eyes narrowed in consternation, roving over the other from toes to head, Alastor's stony look dissipated; a radiant grin taking over.

Lifting a hand to point an accusatory finger at the Archangel, Alastor's raised his voice, talking obnoxiously loud — just to be sure all within the fringes of the earshot boundary will hear.

"Saint Michael here has admitted he does listen to gossip! A die-hard fan, wouldn't you know! He enjoys tuning in to MY station! "

[arcanepactguile]

Magic wizard anon appears. "LET YOUR LUST BE FREE."

Boops him and suddenly he feels a heat come on and he strong craving touch and his SENESTIVE TO TOUCH NOW. As anon disappears .

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂! 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓

"Wh—"

It was too late.

The boop catching him off guard, blinking, Alastor only had a split second to comprehend the strange Grey-Face Demon's bewildering words before the acclaimed curse suddenly hit him.

Oh.

No.

A blush spreading over his cheeks, the burning heat in his face wasn't matched by the intensifying warmth blossoming downstairs.

The curse was relatively straightforward, like most curses.

The craving for physical intimacy had popped into his head, squashing all prior trains of thought, disabling sensible processes — irrational, yet queerly impassioned.

There were only two things that mattered — fuck, or being fucked.

Running his claws over an arm in awe as a tingling spread through his body, the gesture was immediately abandoned; the Radio Demon broken out in a feverish sweat, touch appeared off-limits.

At a loss, Alastor resorted to opening a portal to cheat, aiming to transport back to his private room — except the magic bad fizzled out, the portal crackling, before winking out of existence.

Fuck.

[arcanepactguile]

MAGIC ANON: Heat (<3)

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂! 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓

The aroused buck was at full mast, concealing his dripping erection behind the pillow he had in the beginning been humping futilely. Strings of slick stuck to the plush pillow, at first glance it appeared he was jerking himself off — stretched out on his stomach, his arms were stretched under him, fists working at his crotch.

Propped on his knees and ass up, the demon was actually pumping his heavy udders, dedicating a singular hand to one teat each to be fair. Breathless, gaze pinned on nothing, he diligently kept on squeezing his engorged sacs; squirts of milk trickling down his calves and knees. It was clumsy yet somewhat effective.

With his tail wagging madly, baring his empty hole to the world at large, the Radio Demon's potent pheromones was thick and heavy, able to be picked up within an impressive radius.

He just wanted to be mated by anything at this point. The Heat cycle had suspiciously come out of nowhere. There wasn't time to waste analysing it.

[arcanepactguile]

He has his mate pinned against the wall softly grinding against his bottom. Satan opens his mouth sinking his fangs into his neck and shoulder. Needing to refresh that little love bite of his. Hands groping over his chest and stomach even down his thighs. Making sure he understands who he belongs to in every sense of the word. 

Pressed into the wall, Alastor loved this position. While it wasn't as primal as getting mated on all fours like a beast in heat, it retained the same level of possessiveness.

The old claim-bite's scarring had all but faded from obscurity, the faint puncture holes healed dimples.

Frozen in place, the Radio Demon let loose a keening moan, ears swivelled forward, his scarlet fur rippling in satisfaction. The blood trickling down his back and collar bone a temporary reminder, his mate's fangs sunken into his flesh.

The Radio Demon couldn't speak, breathing quickened; sweat beaded on his skin, his shivers under the roving hands hadn't stopped. Leaning his forehead against the wall, blinking back tears, the sinner was thankful, lifting his rear to accept the hard bulge rubbing against his backside.

"Thank you, m'Lord... "

[arcanepactguile]

@justiceiswrath ꜱᴇɴᴛ — 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

( g-spot ) Satan pushing against his G-spot few times <3

The digits buried inside him were bending, curling to knuckle his inner ring to stretch.

Whining, the deer demon clung to the edge of the bathtub, bent over it on the verge of (awkwardly) climbing into it, when out of the blue his Master had walked in unannounced — after grabbing his hip, the Sin had pushed two fingers into his doe's warm hole.

Gasping, the Radio Demon had eased himself onto the two fingers, pushing back to sink himself over the thick knuckles, pinned in place by his Master's hand he couldn't really ride the surprising penetration. At least he had chosen a better place for a quick service, the tiled bathroom was easier to clean up.

The lip of the iron bathtub was cold, pressing into the swell of his udders and stirring cock, the hot bathwater swirling on the other side of the tub, now wasted. Each probe into his tender spot bristled his tail fur, the rubbing knuckles dry inside his fluttering hole. Wishing his Master had in advance brought some lube with him, Alastor was forgiving this time — walking in on his special pet half bent over an object, tail up and his tight hole on full display, he couldn't be blamed too harshly.

[arcanepactguile]

Satan is softly caressing his cheek and running his other hand down his body. Going over his chest and his stomach. He's heating up his hands so they feel amazing against his skin. But he's staring down deeply into his beloved eyes. He just wants to touch him. He wants him to feel good. He's running his other hand down his neck and shoulders. He's taking any excuse he can to touch him. Even running his hand over his thighs and his legs. Softly up his back.  (Replies will come tomorrow but, urge to send you something)

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 / ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ⸻ ｢ 🕯️ ｣

Grinning, Satan's doe is utterly perplexed as to why his Master is all of a sudden so anxious to touch him: hands exploring his body like it's their first time. He doesn't want it to stop, the pleasant sensation is sinking deeper into his body, easing tension.

Tilting his head back to look up, returning the heavy look with an inquisitive one, Alastor's brought both hands up to squeeze the dragon's warmed wrist long enough so he can wait for the time when the other hand has slid down his stomach so he can roll his hips into the questing palm.

"Have you lost something?"

[arcanepactguile]

💋- @baphomet-slumber-queen

💋!

It was hard to tell who led the sleeping arrangements; the sheep, or the deer.

The Sin of Sloth had very graciously taken the Radio Demon in under her wing on Extermination Day, in an effort to thwart capture or death during the purge that had arrived on time like Charlie had.. well, implied, the implications of all rules and etiquette thrown out in the name of fun recreation gleaned as much by the little that the princess had divulged.

Alastor had been convinced he wasn't planning to stick around a repeat of last year's mess. It was convenient that Lady Belphegor had reached out to him again for support, so it was inevitable the frightened Overlord had accepted her proposal, opting to be sheltered by a much more powerful figure than he, than end up as a statistic and front page news.

Spending the better half of New Year's Day with the sheep gave him an ample shot at stoking the flames of their budding relationship, never mind avoiding assassination.

The Radio Demon was previously curled up in the Sin’s lap, on her bed. Definitely room enough for two, the buck had still moved closer to claim his territory; nuzzled into her stomach, the deer had one ear flipped up to press into her breast. He had been listening to her soothing heartbeat, but the chimes of a clock announcing midnight, his attention had converted to something different.

Unfolding, drowsy, Alastor had dragged himself up the towering Sin”s body by holding onto her shoulders, to plant a chaste kiss to her mouth fondly, his own lax features transforming into a playful smile. The sheep’s body was very warm beneath his body, his claws lightly winding around loose locks of her beautiful wool. Sleep was leaving him, the heat pooling in his body stirred by his Mistress's sympathetic compassion and reverence for him, an idol in her eyes.

“Happy New Year — do you have a resolution to share with me?"