#Alastor NSFT

[arcanepactguile]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐕

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐒

ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍꜱ (ᴄᴏᴄᴋ)

AO3 CHAPTER 5

The rhythmic smacks went on for a full count of nothing more than twelve — towards the end of the count, Alastor's thoughts whirling into a pitiful state, his apologetic cries sharpening in pitch, the tentacles’ spanks fell the hardest. Although to the Radio Demon the impromptu spanking felt like it was endured for a lifetime, mentally and physically, the tentacles hadn't given any indication they were planning to quit before they had actually stopped at the dozenth spank, the volley of swats falling uninterrupted and never once losing their steady pace, no pauses given to judge any overwhelmed headspace or abraded skin. The pair of smaller tendrils previously massaging his drooped ears were happily restraining his major movements, entwined around his waist to bend him forward, lazily tracing patterns around the dips and rises of his prominent bones.

The guard tentacles formerly overwatching his rear reorganised themselves securing his ankles throughout the spanking, spreading his legs further apart than shoulder width. The lengths of the tentacles appeared limitless, the bulk of each singular limb reaching all the way back to the mysterious gloom underneath the bed in the next room over — where all the fun had begun, the intervals involving unanticipated and unwanted discipline permitted.

The rumpled bedsheets hanging over the edge of the bed frame stirring, the darkness lurking where the sheets met the floor swayed, pushed to one side as the mass where the tentacles’ thickest girth clustered together slowly dispered, expanding to cover more ground, leaving the darkest patch of shadows in the middle.

Movement rippling through the limbs holding him fast, Alastor's attention focusing on the twin tentacles’ flurry of smacks rocking him on straightened legs, the unhurried tightening of tendrils higher up his trembling legs went unnoticed. The cowbell’s aphrodisiac belling overrode the snatches of warning flitting amongst his spiralling thoughts, euphoria radiating out progressively down his chest and abdomen to fester in the pit of his stomach.

The toughened skin of the udders blushed a pretty cerise pink, the last remnants of milk had ceased squirting out from the heavy impacts, the buck's fear inciting the dwindling yield, his teats dried up and withholding the milk. The reddened skin of his earlier spanked buttocks and thighs still glossy, the heat had now spread to include his punished udders, the strength mounting together. Left over milk making a tacky film coating the teats and underside was adapted to the tentacles’ advantage, the wet skin provided the ultimate punishment factor regarding a spanking; the slickness added a sharp, stinging edge, the hits’ boosted akin to a wet razor strop’s belting.

The tentacles in the end came to a full stop, making the final decision to edge in an extension of the corrective training when they replaced the rigorous smacks with a protracted number of firm strokes and groping; each tentacle strenuously gliding back and forth to rub it's claimed patch of udder, painstakingly massaging feeling back into the throbbing organ. Sweeping up to curl around a quad, tracing the swollen outlines of each spank they could find individually, rubbing the lightest whenever the Radio Demon's body suddenly tensed whenever a tendril had fondled a particularly sore area, the groundwork for his chastisement finalised.

The collective of tentacles altogether pulling at once, brought the Radio Demon down heavily to his knees; the stag landing hard on all fours next, the slippery tiles wet from soapy water and milk sliding his hooves and hands out helplessly — a stern tug pulled the deer completely down, face forward and ass a little higher up, before they hungrily dragged him back to the confines of it's lair below the bed.

Tugged over the threshold onto carpet from smooth tile had Alastor yelping, automatically bracing his body to rise up off the floor on his flung out elbows, the underside of his spent udders and throbbing cock skimming the ground painfully, less so than if the monster hadn't taken over and assisted by lifting him a smidgen higher to dodge the carpet burn. Four of the tentacles wrapped around his legs and midsection, the smaller twins weaving in his outstretched arms to ensnare and hold them rigid, supporting his pointed chin and hunched shoulders together.

The nearer the monster dragged him to it's hidden lair, the wider it spread the bedding keeping it concealed in it's darkness. Turning his head to crane over his shoulder, Alastor's flushed face blanching at the sight that befell him — a mass of predatory slits shone in the abyss, glistening wetness the single other highlight in the pit. Flipping the bedsheets back, the last stretch of distance helped along with a sudden violent yank — and Alastor was pinned to the floor, half under the bed. 

Panting breathlessly, Alastor writhed, powerless to stop it, clovenhooves kicking at empty air and a solid wall of muscle randomly, the slippery tentacles unfolding around the buck's lauded body to entangle in thick and thin tentacles, new attributes heightening both eroticism and fear in kind. New, delicate-looking yet just as strong tentacles whipped out, coiling themselves over Alastor's quivering thighs, hips, ass, waist, and loins. One side of each tendril was flat, several lines of suckers puckering the lengths of each limb - each one latched onto Alastor's sweaty skin, pinching the flesh for a firm grip, the sphincters fangless and wholly reliant on suction alone. Whenever the suckers lost their grip and reattached, the older placement revealed a reddened imprint of the sucker, bruising his taut skin. Coiled heaviest around his thighs and hips, the tentacles spread his cheeks wider apart; a translucent web of moist purplish-skin between the tendrils swallowing the prime area of Alastor's ass; the sweet-spot, cleft, and inner thighs. Adhering its maw flush to Alastor, the monster's tongue sliding out of his unseen throat inside the web skirted the buck's udders on one side, swatheing the twin sacs in mucuous and drool, coiling the end around the front and firmly tugging the udders back and up to stubbornly hold it like that enviously, savoring the taste of sweet milk squirted out under the unyielding pressure, warming up in the strong embrace.

Undulating in waves, the rows of suckers kneadedAlastor's body, pulsating evenly, suckling the hardest closest to his inflamed hole. A sticky cluster of finer tendrils lapping at the residual milk curving back under the squeezed slopes of his udders, oblivious to the different ways Alastor protested; the Radio Demongasping, jerking erratically, bucking his hips, the spanked flesh tingling in overstimulation, cringing back. Inching the wearied demon in closer, finding resistance once Alastor had tiredly half-rolled onto his side, one digitigrade leg half bent at the knee and his thigh pushing against the end of the bed, the monster accepted the compromised position and instead moved around him, winding it's tentacles around his spread legs, slithering under his flicking tail and curling back under his thighs to hook it's favourite mate tightly. 

The inky mass of rippling muscles engulfed the Radio Demon's lower half from the hips down, leaving his softened cock exposed, the blend of pale flesh merging into the flushed pink of his udders disappeared underneath the flattened web. The edges of the flexible skin followed the contours of Alastor's thin body, flushed against his slender hips and pulled tight over his tender buttocks, the buck's flared tail jerking upwards nervously, the pulsating flaps of skin stretching far to better clutch Alastor's thighs, the bulk at it's center shifting inwards to firmly press it's circular maw to the sensitive rosebud it had been playing with, prolapsing it's own inner flesh of it's alien mouth to probe the spasming hole, drawing an embarrassed gasp from it’s pet, spreading Alastor's resistant ring open to pass through his trembling walls a slimy feeler, it's tip coming to a standstill not long after it had wriggled through. Filling the Overlord's ass on it's own without doing anything… yet, the moist maw latched onto his stretched ring began to nurse, gently suckling the reddened hole ardently, a rumbling purr vibrating throughout the slurping maw, the feeler-tendril relaxing inside his core, and the shiny web stretched over his ass and groin. The smaller suckers scattered all over the gripping tentacles sucked his skin in unison, the fluctuating wave quelling the Radio Demon'sapprehension, Alastor leaning back onto the floor, allowing the monster to enjoy it's engrossed mission to overlay his lingering pain and shame with ecstasy.

The suckers kneading his inflamed udders felt especially soothing, thin trails of slime buzzing the worst of the spanked welts affectionately, the throbbing injuries healing very slowly by the tentacles’ doting care. Riding the flooding pleasure, the tranquillity, in low tones softened grunts spotlighting the relief the buck was so grateful to finally receive, Alastor's affectionate murmurs abruptly rose in pitch as he stiffened —  a few slim tendrils had unwound to knot themselves around his spent cock, encircling the slicked shaft to start rubbing themselves up and down all sides in hastened pumps, a ridged solitary tendril arcing up to press and explore Alastor's clammy skin in the meanwhile — the aforementioned placid stag sucking in a distressed cry when the tendril’s pointed tip had attempted nuzzling the deer demon’s damp navel, discovering it was not the right entrance it sought, gliding back in calming circular strokes down Alastor's clenched belly to loop around his leaking cockhead. The tendril lightly touching the weeping slit had drawn a fiercer objection from the Radio Demon, prompting the tendril to plunge it's split tip into the hole — thrusting in and out rapidly, the tendril massaged the inner channel, coaxing thicker fluid out, sweeping the sticky cvm around the hardening head in concentric circles to focus on milking out more excess.

Rocking his hips forward, the motion jerking his stiffening member harder inside the wrapped tentacles-sleeve, nearly finding the friction he so desired, Alastor's rapt attention however was interrupted — thicker tentacles lashed out, encircling the buck’s inclined neck and shoulders together to thump him back onto the floor, the tips circling lower down to bind his arms behind his bowed back, tail wagging dejectedly, caught hands laced as well with more willowy tendrils.

The suckling maw pressed to his fluttering hole hastily quickened it's leisurely suctioning, energetically strengthening it's palpitating kisses. 

Crying out in a hoarse voice, Alastor's whimpers melting into sporadic moans, the feeler rapidly grew in girth — inflating to spread Alastor's inner entrance, the suddenly heavy limb shuddered violently — arcing forward, the feeler pumped thick ropes of it's sterile spawn, the viscous sap inundating the deer's core and ebbing back to find an exit, except the feeler had plugged his hole well. The prolapsed mouth withdrew, slowing the suckling to rather wait for the primary job’s completion. The Radio Demon was whimpering the whole time at the onset of the intensified overstimulation, arching his back as the first waves of guttural cramps jarred his body, the writhing tentacle spasming inside his core, pumping out slews of gossamer seed to stuff his ass to leak. Rocking the deer's body as it repeatedly injected it's loads deep into his stuffed ass, forming periodic bulges at the root of his milked member as the feeler plunged relentlessly; the overflow squirted out in a rush, upon the spent feeler squirming roughly it's way back out in a loud POP — Alastor's reddened hole contracting to hold in the monster's cum, stray rivulets of seed dribbling down his thighs to vanish into the monster's saliva.

The rows of suckers lining the other tentacles never released their grip, the main tentacle squeezing the buck's udders tighter against his groin, it's slicked tongue resuming to lap at the seam, dexterousy rubbing it's extended length between the quads to perhaps instill a fresh round of milking instincts. The shrunken teats, well and truly dry at this point after the extended rounds of forced milking, shuddered, Alastor's groin flinching back in dread at the simplistic notion of renewed nursing so soon. The gaping sphincters leaked the last remnants of milk, the blushed tips throbbed harder whenever the tongue tested their sensitivity by curling around a teat to pinch at it's base.

All this went on in darkness behind the web of skin, the Radio Demon still registering every second of the probing and stripping in spite of the multiple orgasms the sleeve-tentacles had squeezed out of the fatigued stag — his cock forced to retain it's erection and held up, the tentacles rhythmically pumping his bruised shaft to ease out another shot of seed; the first five had come involuntarily, Alastor's back snapping rigid as a board before slumping back lopsided, one rosy-cheek shoved into the carpet, his red-rimmed watering eyes glassy in extended arousal, his anguished panting replacing coherent pleading. The demon's ears remained motionless, his tousled hair sticking up every which way, face flushed in mingled humiliation and lust.

Stroking the Overlord's tilted ass admiringly, the web of skin carefully peeled itself away, folded back to expose to the torture chamber once again the entirety of the naked buck. It's tentacles remained holding him tightly, angled sideways with one limp leg still draped over the bed, thighs spread and groin bared. Sweat cooling on his blushed skin highlighted the scattershot of dimpled sucker-imprints where each sucker had failed to clutch his sweat-bathed skin, although the welts and bruised flesh of his udders had healed for the most part from the spanking, the sucker-stamps unleashing a new pattern of marks that needed extensive aftercare to recover without a trace or very little evidence left behind.

Tremors breaking up his ragged exhales, the stag demon's inhales drawn in smoother, his tail had ceased wagging willingly, the appendage clad in monster spunk, floppy against one ruddy cheek. The Overlord's antlers had honestly branched out after the last strongest climax — grown from the normal two tines to an intimidating branch of six tines arcing up on both left and right antler, the demon's pupils shrivelled to pinpoints of light, the sheer sight of the once imposing Overlord sprawled on a dungeon's floor, abused and used, took away the looming threat his appearance normally inspired. Alastor's seed was roped across his upper abdomen abd chest, strings of the drying cream snarled alongside his heaving udders and knee, beads of milk and cum dripping off a teat to feed the growing puddle.

[rainyday-deer]

Angel's party trick 🎉

My partner and I had an interesting conversation and thats how this got made. I'm so sorry. lmao

[aislinceivun]

Valastor week Day 6 - Polyamory @valastorweekofficial

Based on this thread I wrote earlier in the week with the premise that Alastor starts dating Valentino and Velvette months before letting Vox join their polycule. Vox sufferz greatly😆 I've got an nsft bonus doodle & textpost on my twt / bsky!

[am-i-interrupting]

I absolutely love ur work and have an idea that u can use if u want to!!! It's about how Alastor, Lucifer, Rosie, Velvette, Vox, (maybe Carmilla if u want to), and whichever characters u would prefer would react to a fem or gn (whichever u prefer) reader who is has cat-like features and is in heat. tysm!!!!! 💖💖💖💖

Alastor

Well, aren’t you just precious?

He will tease you.

Expect to be let, between the ears, on the ears, your chin, your spine, your tail.

He will be tugging on your tail.

He’s either touching you and doesn’t let you touch him back or you’re allowed to touch him and he won’t touch you.

He loves to watch rut against his thigh or better his boot, mewling with your tail curled around his hand.

When you’re obviously in pain though, he will bring out his shadows and fuck you with them.

Expect degradation.

“So desperate, aren’t you, kitten? And I’m the only one who can satisfy you—“ cue laugh track— “how pathetic.”

Husk

Be prepared to be held down and marked.

Whichever one of you starts the breeding first will quickly cause the other to as well.

He has to mark what’s his.

Just pushes you against the wall randomly one day and rubs his cheek against yours.

That’s your cue to take things somewhere much more private.

That first orgasm happens before the clothes are even off. He just can’t keep his paws off you.

Mating press (obviously)

His arms beneath your legs, holding your hands in his, his wings surrounding you to prevent anyone else from seeing you in your locked, empty room.

Afterwards, locked together, he’s just rubbing his face all over you. His hands go to the base of your tail and he’s just petting there.

Lucifer

You’re gonna have to give this man a warning beforehand or he’s going to be absolutely overwhelmed.

“Shhhh, shhh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Oral King!

When his dick is not recovering, he is giving you oral.

Just licking, lapping, and sucking like the kitten you are.

Constant petting and reassurance.

If you mention anything about kids, he is going to come immediately.

Sorry, did you. . . did you not expect it to end so fast? That’s your fault.

Rosie

Let this woman peg someone!

Strap on! Put her in a strap on! She’d be so hot.

She’d take such good care of you.

Constant pets, a bit of tail pulling, just worshiping you.

“You’re doing so good, kitten. We’re gonna make such pretty babes.”

Let’s you scent mark her.

She might direct you to her breasts.

If you suck on them, she’s shiver and praise you, petting between your ears the entire time.

Vaggie

She would have done research beforehand.

Your not just scent marking her, she’s doing it back to the best of her abilities.

Whether she’s sinking down on or rocking into you, she’s got her hand on your ears or tail.

If your tail curls around her wrist, she’s gently holding it the entire time.

She’s just whispering sweet nothings to you.

Whatever you need to hear, she’s saying it.

At the end of it all, expect her to clean you up.

A bath where you just lay on her. Her drying and brushing your fur.

You can lean on her as much as you want, she’ll be there to support you.

Velvette

Absolutely thrilled by how needy for her you are.

She might not let you scent mark her depending on how demanding you are. You have to earn the right to claim her.

She’s pulling on your tail, hard. It kind of hurts.

She’s teasing you relentlessly, both physically and mentally.

Barely there touches.

“Aw, you came just from that? How fucking pathetic is that? I didn’t really touch you.”

Vox

Recording this as blackmail for later.

Well, not blackmail more so, proof that he can dom you so well.

Your fur might be just a little bit singed at the end of it. Just like a tiny bit.

He’s electric, what can he say?

He is petting you and praising you.

A constant hand moving through your fur.

He’s not letting you out of his reach.

He’ll sit back and let you scent mark him as much as you want.

He’s putting his hand over and stroking your scent glands so carefully.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you just what you need.”

[velvet-games]

had a smut idea I'm not brave enough to write

[st-alastors-confessional]

Alright miscreants,

I’m closing asks for now while I catch up on the multitude of confessions I’ve received.

Y’all are so sinful, it’s almost impressive.

I didn’t think this silly side blog would get so popular it’s kinda hot. So thank you for all the wonderful interactions I’ve had thus far!

In the meantime, here’s a scrap of meat for y’all the gnaw on…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Warnings: NSFW RadioApple

Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Saint Alastor and the King of Hell against the wall of his Confessional. Angry sexual tension, Alastors Shadow, tentacles, choking, restraining, power dynamics, sacrilegious as fuck without actually fucking lmao

Enjoy your food ❤️

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

St Alastors grip tightens around Lucifers waist as he pins him against the outside of his Confessional. A new found anger boils beneath his skin, expertly masked by his perpetual smile and steady hands. The cross that hangs around his neck presses harshly into the King’s chest as he leans in closer.

Lucifer hisses through gritted teeth, his nails clawing lines up the dark wood behind him.

“You wouldn’t dare.” the King speaks evenly, challenging his own restraint by not simply charging St. Alastor into the opposite wall and succumbing to his own desires. Instead he remains still, gaze unwavering, feet planted firmly, biting back the unholy hunger he suffered for this man of the cloth.

It’d been weeks since the Saint had returned Lucifers letters or so much as offered a glance in his direction- even his ridiculous grin seemed strained when entering rooms now. Lucifer had started to believe he’d previously been too forward and offended the Saint, or worse: He’d been forgotten about entirely.

In any case, the reasoning behind the Saints cool shoulder was unknown to Lucifer and it hurt him more than he cared to admit. So one night, after a glass of whiskey and an impulsive thought, he marched up the cathedral stairs and confronted St. Alastor directly.

Fury pooled in his gut again.

He is the King of Hell and he will not be treated as a passing thought.

His hands shook and curled into fists, readying himself to slam them into St. Alastors chest, but he stills. The temperature in the room drops, a sudden iciness creeps up his spine. Each shuttered breath is released as white plumes between them.

The heat of St. Alastors body against his is interrupted by a coolness that first coils itself beneath Lucifers shirt, up his torso, and around his wrists without tangible force behind it. Before he can act, his hands are thrown up and pinned tightly above his head.

A shadowed figure stretches out from the darkness and cascades up the wall Lucifer is pressed into. It looms ominously, silently behind him, sharpened by the candlelight of the surrounding room, and arches down beside the Kings head with a snarl. Its talon-like nails run up Lucifers elevated arms, clasp around his wrists, and pull ever so slowly upwards. Lucifers feet gradually lose contact with the floor as he’s dragged up the wall by the unseen force, until he’s eye level with the holy man.

Lucifer shivers as he realises his predicament: He’s trapped between St. Alastor and his shadow.

The Saints eyes are lidded, mouth parted. "Oh, Your Highness,” his demonic voice chuckles softly in Lucifers ear, “Sinners like yourself are not worthy of the holy ground on which this cathedral stands. Do you seek exhalation?" The tendril beneath the Kings shirt, long and thick, travels above his collar and wraps itself around his throat, eliciting a moan as it constricts. A thin line of red slick trails from St. Alastors smile, down his chin, and drips onto the white of his collar, "Show me how you plead, Your Majesty."

The wall groans as St. Alastor leans in firmer still, his mouth inches away from Lucifers. He runs a calculated hand over the shadow-like tentacle encircling The Kings neck, twirls the tail end around his arm and playfully tugs. A soft threat: You are at my mercy.

"P-please. Your... Your Holiness." Lucifers broken words are squeezed out of him. The shadow that grips his wrists squeezes tighter, seemingly displeased by the answer.

“Oh, you'll have to do better than that, Sire." he responds lowly, “You’d be wise not to waste my time.”

"I-" Lucifer strains against the pressure on his throat, "I’ve come to confess."

“Mmm.” St. Alastors long tongue snakes out from between his razor-sharp teeth and licks a slow, wet line across Lucifers exposed collarbone, “Good boy.” he murmurs, “And what do you wish to tell me?”

“I fucking hate you.”

[prince-liest]

some personal thoughts on Talk Show 666: Anger Management, partly stolen from my own comment replies to other people:

It's kind of interesting to me every time people perceive Alastor's words to Vox when he's saying things specifically to humiliate him in the context of sex to be excessively cruel, or something to feel bad for on Vox's part. I never intended to write them as something that Vox wasn't, like. Blatantly enjoying, in a very kink-specific way. Granted, it's not the usual humiliation kink dirty talk, because Alastor's idea of dirty talk started at "your bones would look super pretty carved out of your chest" and Vox never corrected him except for to react positively to getting humiliated…

However! Similarly to the way that Alastor wants and enjoys being forced into distress and helplessness as in Livestream 666, Now Presenting: A Love Potion Makes the Medicine Go Down, Vox likes being hurt by Alastor's words. At least, he did until they reached this moment in Talk Show 666: Anger Management where he gets upset with Alastor for talking about how disgusting he used to think Vox's interest in him was. There's a difference between saying "You are [insert humiliating kinky insults]" vs "I think badly of you," especially framed in the context of a time in the past when they actually ended up on bad terms…but Alastor doesn't know what Vox is getting out of this in the first place, and so didn't know this, either.

On the other hand, I do think that some of that perception of feeling bad for Vox probably comes from the same place as people who did read the CNC fic and perceive it as genuine non-con - despite Alastor's repeated initial consent, Vox's check-in, Alastor's utter lack of using any force whatsoever to attempt to escape, and his satisfaction with how things went after the fact. Sometimes you just truly cannot relate to how another person would experience something, especially if you personally find that thing to be a negative experience.

Additionally, at no point has Vox done anything other than encourage the monologuing, including actually discussing it and what he gets out of it. Alastor's been pressing that button like a "say mean things and Vox gets off on it" generator without really having a deeper understanding of why that is, because "I don't get this Sex Thing but it seems to work for him" is how he handles a lot of what they do together in general. That is the intersection where Vox's frequently shitty communication tactics combined with this situation to explode the whole thing in their faces. It was going to happen eventually! Best it happened now, after they did so much processing to get to where they are.

No murder attempts, that's already good!

[arcanepactguile]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

@spidrboots ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ — "18 ᴏʀ 25?"

“Now that's more like it,” Alastor's quick to console Angel Dust; who's presently pushed up against a wardrobe in the arachnid’s bedroom, the door quickly slammed shut with a kick as soon as the two had cleared the threshold.

The resounded bang down the Hotel's hallway was dismissed as indirect casualty. They were still safe, undiscovered. A risk of getting an audience to witness their (drunken?) rendezvous just because they were desperate to retire in the addict's ‘private’ rooms was worth it.

Confident Vox hadn't implanted any livestreaming video feeds inside Angel's room, at the behest of his second half Valentino, Alastor felt more comfortable fumbling with Angel's clothes and his own on the suspicion his own quarters weren't as secured.

That bungling train of thought hadn't lasted the time it took to shove his impromptu lover up against the cupboard, nearly tripping over the boots and things littering the floor. Panting hard, the aroma of bourbon on his breath, the Radio Demon had pinned Angel — one hand squeezing his throat, claws pinching the back, whilst his other hand had been busy working at the spider's belt and fly, jerking one side down over a hip to grant access.

Alastor's fingers, at least two, were crooked inside the warm hole the tipsy buck had made a bid for the second he had smeared some sparse lube over his fingertips. The tube was commandeered, one of a handful of items left on the nightstand; it's lewd label clearly depicting it's purpose.

Angel was just lucky Alastor's vision wasn't bleary, or imagining things, the Overlord's sense swimming with liquor, to wind up grabbing a cream not meant for internal use.

The tube rolling away on the floor once dropped, possibly to freedom under Angel's bed, Alastor had pressed the length of his fevered body into the taller demon's, his busier arm wrapped around his lover's frame to frisk him. It was a gamble to rush ahead — judging by their escalating ardour in the bar, then the staircase… then the landing, the Radio Demon was fairly confident the more experienced demon had no reason to balk.

Ears angled back, lids lowered, Alastor grunted; sliding his digits to circle Angel's slicked ring, the deer demon grinded his hips into his partner's thigh, the hardness of his growing erection evident. The Overlord's clothes were in a shambles, his coat shrugged off to pool at their feet, suspenders hanging, cuffs unbuttoned but the shirt's collar still up and bowtie fastened.

“Can you moan for me again?

What would I do to hear you scream?"

[arcanepactguile]

The spider demon's excitement, embattled as the lewd moans and gasps were, reassured the stag that all things were running smoothly.

Wary of not satisfying the celebrated porn star's expectations, surpassing it or not, the Radio Demon's tentative introduction to what turned his sub on had apparently been the right course of action. Flicking the sub’s throbbing bud repeatedly, the drag of knuckles through the damp pussylips occasionally, had pulled succulent noises out of him. That was not all — the juices dripping from Angel's folds oozing into his upturned palm were distantly attested to the spider's strengthening arousal.

Slowing the punishing fiicks to circle the hot bud with a clawtip, avoiding the hardened flesh itself in a prolonged tease, Alastor went on admonishing the pleading slut, his tone wistful.

“That’s a good boy. See what patience and a willingness to learn can do, if you'd only give yourself a little more time to work around your mistakes —” at this, Alastor paused circling the nub to stroke the clawtip across the clit at a steady pace, the drags swift and lighter than before “— I’ll do as you say, but with one exception.

You're not to touch or pleasure yourself, until I give the word… I want to see you melt, I want to be the ONLY reason you can't speak… Sound fair?”

Without waiting for an answer, garbled or coherent, the Radio Demon's concerted focus on the vices-demon’s dripping cunt seamlessly dissolved into the stroking finger’s smooth abandonment — wrapping both hands around his lover's waist, slyly planting his thumbs as near to the wet slit as he could manage for a background tease, Alastor lifted the demon's rear to bring level with his face.

There was no time for side excursions — Angel had wanted to be eaten out from the inside, and who wanted to complain? Surely not his Top: the amused buck leaning in to press his face into his sub’s quivering ass, the stag's wide smile strained against Angel's tight buttocks. Cocking both fluffy ears to triangulate on whatever new noises his sub was apt to make, the buck's low groan was underscored with a primordial growl, not a resemblance but an exact copy of a territorial low of an alligator —

The Overlord's rumbling purr unequivocally felt as the deer worked his slick tongue into Angel's puckered hole; twisting the extended muscle to propel it past the twitching rim. The tightness of Angel's entrance was embraced with open arms; digging his claws deeper into his sub’s lower groin and back, Alastor working his tongue deeper in staggered pushes until there was no more long tongue to offer.

Nostrils flaring as he fought to breathe, stirring warm exhales over Angel's furry cheeks, drool seeping down the spider demon's moist slit, the Radio Demon's chin prodding the moist folds as he worked his jaw to plunge his tongue back and forth inside Angel's ass.

Rubbing the muscle along the narrow channel in repetitive thrusts, utilising the appendage as a prehensile dildo, Alastor's resonating growls were insistent, the guttural sound echoing through his tongue buried deep.

The carnal slurps and squelches were nonstop, saliva building and slicking Angel's inner thighs as the buck chased the mind numbing reaction of his lover getting lovingly licked and massaged internally with his 'daddy’s' searing tongue. Sealing his lips around the stretched hole, Alastor suckled the riim while rhythmically pumping his tongue as long as Angel restrained himself to be held aloft, withstanding the wriggling invasive penetration and the stretch of his core rubbed, oblivious to his sub's protests if the addict's breaking point was edged.

The heat emanating off his lover's body demonstrated his excitement, Angel's readiness exacerbated by the lustful noises the spider demon unabashedly released.

One long fingered hand curled around Angel's upper thigh, the thumb stretched over one inner asscheck, spreading him a little — the Radio Demon's face buried into the split mounds, his hot exhales from widened nostrils ruffling Angel's butt fur as he tended to the sensitive nerves encircling the flinching hole. The Overlord's other hand was wasting time, simply holding the spider's opposite waist in a relaxed grip, caressing his thumb over the addict's jutted hip.

Dragging his tongue up in repetitive strokes, beginning just outside of the damp cvnt the addict had surprised him with in the midst of taking his clothes, Alastor's attention focused primarily over the main attractiion — tauntingly sinking the bulged curve of his tongue into Angel's needy anus, lingering the hot muscle for a beat only ever during the short periods when the younger man had drawn away, the impatient rocking back as he begger for early penetration.

Alastor's devilish patience wearing thin by this point, the stag let out a warning huff of air over the tense rosebud, the quirk of a traitorous grin snug between Angel's trembling buttocks. Pushing in, the amused buck left a sucking kiss dead center over the hole.

His playmate was bending the rules, trying to grind into the bed like that, working on his erections without explicit permission.

Leaning back, kneeled, straightening his hunched spine, the Radio Demon's low chuckle was an outright beration — digging his claws into the celebrity’s buttock, gliding his procrastinated hand down and between Angel's legs, grazing lightly his sub’s bared cock almost despondently, the target was exploited heartily.

“Oh, this will NOT do. Brats deserve punishment. You will NOT rush me again. ‘Capisce’?”

The silly addition to the verbal reprimand was without warning, overshadowed by Alastor's unpleasant discipline.

Stroking s single sharp clawtip, the forefinger to be exact, dipping into the rear of Angel's wet folds, the Radio Demon dragged the claw forward to split the spider's cunt. Through the misdirection, the demon slid the tip out over the throbbing nub at the other end, submerging the tip into the engorging button to jiggle it, encouraging new blood flow, his finger slickened with Angel's juices.

Hoisting his lover’s backside higher with his first hand, suddenly Alastor released toying with Angel's clit, curling his finger and thumb inwards to rapidly stroke the aroused bud with a series of roughened hard flicks, in substitute of a proper pvssy spanking. The Radio Demon's knuckle smacking his sub’s tender mound, the length of his claw fleetingly dipping into the folds of the pvssy, effectively punishing it as a convenient extension of the correction. The discipline elicited the deepening coil of pleasure within the Overlord's gut, his own erection hardening as he punished his impatient lover.

“Promise me you will behave like a good pet.”

[goldenfantasyarts]

I think I can get away with this much?

Bird app is goldenfantasyAD

[henchy5824]

Nobody can say "No" to Rosie. Not even Alastor.

Uncensored version can be found on Bluesky and Twitter

[am-i-interrupting]

Hey there! Can I get some headcanons for Alastor and Rosie with a female Best friend/ s/o respectively (cause y'know, Al's an 'Ace in the hole' lol) who's a singer and does covers of modern music in old-timey styles like postmodern jukebox?

Rosie and Alastor frequent different speakeasies and clubs often together.

Soon after Alastor’s return they restarted the tradition and that’s where they met you.

You were performing a cover of a song neither had ever heard before.

You were good. You were amazing. Fantastically.

Rosie was immediately smitten.

You walked down off the stage, placing a delicate hand in a demon’s outstretched one to help you down the stairs.

You practically floated around the floor and even convinced several people to dance with you.

“They’re rather good.” “Yes, indeed.”

When you approached their tables, dragged your hand along the back of both their seats and placed an outstretched hand between the two of them.

Alastor declined it, noticing Rosie’s specific brand of infatuation. In fact, the bastard baited you both and reached for your hand only to grab Rosie’s and place it there.

He can be a wing man if he wants to be.

The three of you met after that initial performance and were often found together.

Often Alastor would be on the end of Rosie’s thoughtless rambles about you as she flitted around. She called your voice angelic a lot.

Rosie would attend every single one of your performances. Alastor would attend them when he could or particularly wanted to. He wouldn’t rearrange his plans to see them unlike Rosie.

 When the Hotel was rebuilt and the welcoming party was being planned, Alastor immediately suggested you be a performer for the night.

Alastor may or may not have sent his shadows to place a note and a specific outfit he’d noticed Rosie really liked on your bed the day of.

One would imagine Rosie would have dressed for the occasion as well. I’m imagining this fanart because I’m in love with them both.

Alastor, of course, welcomed you with a specific brand of hostility.

He made sure you were comfortable, had everything you needed, any instrument you required would appear with a shadow playing it, and he did make sure to compliment you.

You didn’t see Rosie until you were onstage about to preform on stage.

She was sitting beside Alastor, so beautiful.

You felt almost scandalized seeing her in something that revealed her arms, much less her back and legs.

You immediately went flushed and walked off stage, put a hand in Husk’s shoulder where he was sitting at the bar nearby and took his drink from him (not registering that it was not one he was drinking but instead using to mix a drink for Angel so. . . good luck) and basically started chugging.

You patted his shoulder, gave him his bottle back (he just stared at it and looked at Angel who burst out laughing), then went back to the stage.

You started singing. Song after song, all on stage which was odd for you.

Then you caught Rosie’s eye at the end of a song and Alastor’s shadows started playing a different rhythm.

Feeling the effects of Husks’s drink take hold, you got off the stage.

You went to Rosie and held out your hand specifically to her. Still, Alastor pulled the same move of puppeting her hand, just for old time’s sake.

You moved so you were behind her and pulled her close to you, feeling her warmth and skin against yours and maybe you were in Hell but it was heaven.

You led her in a tango and then she led you and then you were— you both led each other.

At one point, body moving before you mind could process, you kissed her exposed shoulder.

She flushed a bright red.

Charlie went to Alastor and asked if you two were dating. Surprised to hear no.

Everyone watched on anyway because not often did people see Rosie dance and with you two so in sync it was mesmerizing.

You ended the dance with spinning which led to a dip.

Rosie actually, spurred on by the feeling of your hands on her back and the adrenaline of a dance, hooked her leg over yours and used her arm around your shoulders to pull you into a kiss.

Angel absolutely whistled.

You both pulled away flustered.

Maybe you ran off, maybe you didn’t.

Either way, Rosie turned to Alastor who gave her a thumbs up as she sat down. A smile on her lips as her hand traveled to it.

To Alastor, though, that wasn’t the most shocking part of the night.

For him, it was when he heard Charlie saying she was going see if she could commission you to do cover some of her favorite songs and compile them into a playlist.

And upon questioning her, he was informed you covered modern songs.

[velvet-games]

sorry but I think I might like the realistic antlers more than the antennae

[misslycoris]

"BILLBOARD BAT"

🚨Mild NSFT(?) Warning🚨

“Pfft, well look at you all, all dolled up. You almost look decent. I wonder why you never told me about, about this.” Alastor's shoulder shakes as he tries to keep his laughter in.

“Oh, fuck you.” Alastor cackles at your response, effectively losing his composure as he pointed towards the billboard that shone brightly, as if to mock you.

“How, how much did George pay you to sit still in that!? AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” He says in between his laughter.

“Not enough apparently.” You could only flip him off, walking away before you get the urge to rip out that billboard and tear it to shreds.

Hi hi! This is a sort of celebration and thank you for your patience for the latest chapter! I know it took a while and I can't thank you enough for being understanding. I saw a few people doing this trend and I figured why not?

Also, this drawing shows a Squeaks that is on the more feminine side as I've been told, but again this doesn't affect how readers should view Squeaks.

Here is the reference used:

Here's other versions of the artwork as well:

[androgynousblackbox]

Lucifer and Alastor have sex for the first time and goes so wrong that Lucifer ends up killing Alastor completely by accident. He was so used to sex with Lilith, another extremely powerful being, that he actually forgot that normal sinners, even overlords as powerful as Alastor, are still not able to fully withstand his unrestrained strength. So ends up snapping Alastor neck, strangle him with his tail, breaking bones and whatever else. When that happens Lucifer is beyond mortified and when Alastor respawn he is trying to apologize over and over, because he truly, really, didn't mean to do any of that, but Alastor is just asking when they can do that again. Lucifer is rightfully weirded out, while Alastor has finally discovered a way for sex to actually be interesting for him: when there is the very real risk or certainty he is going to lose his life on it.

[xxl1ghtxx]

Idk if i wanna post this but since it got so many upvotes on reddit i just wanna uh clarify a warning

really Suggestive meme perhaps?????? (idk if its really nsfw its just the refrences and shit)

can't let my arch nemesis 2.0 win 🗣🔥🔥🔥❗❗