#tastefulfinery

[arcanepactguile]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋

@tastefulfinery ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱᴇ - ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɪʟ

This had taken the better half of the morning… And the end was NOT in sight.

The invitation organised the day before, Lady Rosie had sought his assistance tidying her impressive library. The problem lay squarely in how disorderly it was. There were piles of books scattered here and there, occupying the most absurd of places. Swamps — cascades of books were left everywhere but where they were supposed to be. Being the Mayor of an exclusive town did not, in Alastor's professional opinion, excuse this degrading attitude towards literature.

The Radio Demon was currently perched midway up a rolling-ladder, cradling a stack of books against his chest protectively. Forehead creased in concentration, intent eyes narrowed, Alastor was busily combing through the books left on the bookshelf directly in his face. Lips parted a little, reciting each leatherbound volume’s title and author's name outloud in a soft murmur, he had assumed Rosie was actually putting in effort to help. Her job was to hold the ladder steady, and to move it if he asked.

Standing higher than her, naturally the stag's backside was at the right level for her entertainment.

A chatty assistant, she normally was chattering away on some latest gossip or what a competitor was up to recently. As a routine, Alastor often enjoyed these chats; shooting the breeze over tea cakes and sugar-glazed fingers was a fine way to spend a morning. Preoccupied this morning, the cannibal pair spared no time on chewing the fact. Rosie had personally invited him to lend a hand in setting her occult library to rights.

What she had in mind hadn't crossed Alastor’s; by and large, his confidante’s playful humour mirrored her offbeat energy.

Alastor should've been aware the silence replacing Rosie's nattering was a warning.

Standing tiptoe on the ladder rung, desperate to reach a shelf overhead without being resigned to try the slower way to replace a book — Rosie's fingers teasing his tail was the final straw. Partially undressed, Alastor's formal attire was stripped down to his usual outfit sans-coat. Arm garters adorned his sleeves, usually unseen, but the unexpected detail was the Overlord's exposed tail.

Tugged through a tailormade fly, a button-closure strap above the base of his tail allowed movement. It prevented his trousers from getting yanked down for whatever reason, yes, it was technically possible but extremely painful — the fastening needed to be undone first. Long enough to reach mid thigh, a regular buck’s tail, it used to be hanging limp and relaxed. Carefree, until Rosie had set her sights on it.

The deer, after the initial shock, supposed when it had wagged absently, it was too attractive to ignore.

The Radio Demon's claws raked through the topmost book’s leather cover, gouging permanent scars — body gone rigid, spine stiffening, the stag couldn't stop the strangled bleatescaping his lips. The touch of Rosie's exploring fingers winding around his tail, playfully teasing out the luxurious fur, had spooked him.

Casting a most displeased glare down at her, tilting his head forward to peer under his free arm currently squeezing the life out of the ladder’s siderail, Alastor's retaliation justified (again, personal opinion).

Incredibly incensed. “ROSIE. Let go right NOW, or I’ll return home this very minute.”

[tastefulfinery]

The Rules

About The Author:

36, Cis female, Pan/demi/Ace-Spec, American

EST / GMT: -5

21+ Only Please

RPer and Author since 2000(ish)

Been on the Internet a long time, writing for various fandoms from large mainstream media to niche fanbases. Sometimes replies can be slow due to various appointments and IRL obligations. I do have chronic illnesses that have unpredictable symptoms, so apologies in advance. I will always send a message if a thread reply will take longer than expected.

Patience is always appreciated and reciprocated. 🌹

General Housekeeping

Anons welcome in the Ask Box.

Please indicate if your ask should be answered Privately or Publicly, as well as IC or OOC.

Adult Themes and Situations abound, please be aware.

I reserve the right to decline any message or Ask, as do you.

I love talking fandom outside of RP, so feel welcome to strike up a convo in DMs

RP Housekeeping

I am rather selective with my RP threads and partners, so please respect my choices if I decline your story offer.

Multi-Paragraph replies are required.

NSFW is for selective partners and up to my discretion to establish with new Authors. Don't push for smut/gore/ships/etc. if it happens, it happens.

Established blogs preferred, but I will take on partners on a case by case basis.

Grammar is paramount.

Ships(if any) are secondary, plot and story always come first.

Thread Maintenance

Tracking tag: tastefulfinery

Please use a Read More for long threads to keep the dashboard uncluttered.

ANY and ALL adult/dark themes MUST be discussed privately before playing out in the thread. No exceptions.

Stories and Shipping Rules

I enjoy plotting and planning major thread events, however, organic RP is key to reaching those plot points.

Explicit content will be under Read More.

If you must drop the thread, please let me know rather than just ghosting. Don't be a dick.

I have an exclusive Alastor with @arcanepactguile - this is not negotiable.

I am willing to discuss ships after we have established some threads and character chemistry.

Hard Pass

OOC Canon Characters

Nonsense Plots

P3do/Agere/Children

Please ask about Kinks as they appear.

[arcanepactguile-scribes]

@tastefulfinery ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ [ ꜱᴜʀᴘʀɪꜱᴇ ] ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛᴇɴᴛᴀᴄʟᴇᴛᴏʙᴇʀ

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 — Tentacletober

𝐖𝐂: 1.6k

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋. Alastor, Tentacle Monster, Alastor's Shadow, Rosie mention.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒: Non-Con Corporal Punishment (spanking)

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: Debt to Nature.

𝑨𝑶3 𝑴𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓

A challenge submitted by @tastefulfinery , I was given: surprise tentacles, from the Tentacletober Prompts.

After a day discreetly engaged with anal training, following the not-so-subtle interest Lady Rosie had shown, the unsuspecting Radio Demon had found himself learning a very harsh lesson behind the (unlocked) door of the bathroom.

Seeking to end the day's training with the glass butt plug, Alastor's Shadow and Tentacles had other ideas...

𝐂𝐖 / 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:

Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Spanking, Tentacles, Marking, Non-Consensual Groping, Wash With Soap, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Anal Play, Butt Plugs, Impact Play, Bondage and Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Overstimulation, Sounds Correction, Soap Gags, Forced Infantilism, Mommy Kink, pegging implications

Rapidly blinking away the tears that blurred his vision, was fruitless. As soon as they cleared, a fresh surge replaced them. Stinging hot, the bitter tang of soap filled his flared nostrils — whatever misstep throughout the journey to this predicament, Alastor had reached a flimsyconclusion: the answer wasn't so convoluted as originally suspected. 

Suspended in mid-air in the middle of Lady Rosie'sluxurious en suite, which shamed ordinary master bathrooms — Alastor had found himself suffering a prolonged hiding.

All because he had thought dabbling in anal training for his excited Mistress was going to be a walk in the park.

Evidently, his Shadow and the Shadow Realm’s tentacleshadn't agreed. The Radio Demon had surmised they were convinced their Master was cheating on Rosie.

The tears trickling still, Alastor was presently arranged in a most embarrassing position, half-naked and with no end in sight. Half an hour had already passed, the hot water faucets in the free-standing clawfoot ceramic bathtub next to him on full blast. The streaming water’s jets echoed loudly in the room, not at all helping in covering up the startled shriek when in the midst of preparing his evening bath, a mass of tentacles had manifested without permission.

The en suite's door shut, the reverberated yelp probably should have been noticed by Rosie — who knew not to disturb her lover when he wanted some personal, quiet time — although she should have suspected somethingwas amiss, judging by the assortment of pathetic and degrading noises the Radio Demon was making, combined by the constant stream of hot water splashing down the drain when it should have been turned off a long time ago.

What Alastor desperately wanted Rosie NOT to do was now come to his rescue. The door had not been locked. For emergencies, or a simple change of mind regarding solo-play… Alastor's Shadow, after the initial shove in the back to stumble his Master off balance, thrown forward over the tub, the mischievous Shadow had only escalated the ensuing drama by handing the tentacle Rosie's favourite wooden hairbrush.

Two large tentacles were secured tightly wrapped around Alastor’s middle, pinning his arms straight to his sides, hands splayed open to spasm systematically as the Overseer tentacle walloped the poor Radio Demon’s red-hot backside with the flat hairbrush. The wet hairbrush.

Rewind the scene.

The three tentacles’ black silken flesh shining under the lights overhead, steam from the running bathwater broken by their bulk supported through the magick portal shimmering directly above the unmatched pair. Likewise, the deer demon's hair and fur was plastered to his scalp, ears dripping wet as they bounced with every savage spank bruising his raised ass. 

Still mostly dressed, upon stumbling forward and catching himself winded on the edge of the tub’s cold rim, the two tentacles had abruptly hoisted him high up to relieve his legs to dangle helplessly — the position took away from him the relief dealt by the impacts of the rough spanks absorbed through the floor via his hooves. Suspended, weightless, the tentacles had guaranteed he would feel every iota of smacked flesh. The tails of his coat were flung over his shoulders, his slacks pulled down just enough to expose the line separating his sit-spots from his thighs.

Thoughts fragmented, the miserable Overlord had surrendered at long last, hanging limply in the tentacle’ squeezing embrace. Face flushed pink in absolute shame, sniffling forlornly, Alastor had to wait out his punishment to the bitter end. Fighting back had only made this predicament worse.

After the tentacles had strung up the surprised deer, arms locked snug and bent forward head-down-ass-up, he had sensed the pair of hands (of course belonging to his treasonous Shadow) reach around his front to hastily unbuckle and unslip the straps of his belt, before undoing the fly and dragging his slacks and underwear down to above the knee. Once that job was complete, Alastor hadn't seen any sign of his trenchant mirror — most likely keeping Rosie busy, the fiend.

Now alone, the Overseer Tentacle had set to work. Nowarm up. No prep. Punishment fit for an absurdly naughty boy, Alastor refused to accept this was a natural state of affairs, a justified overreaction.

At first, the tentacle had calmly examined him — taking it's time, the slick tip winding it's way up and around the slopes of Alastor's exposed rear, experimentally squeezing his unshaven furry sac; prompting another strangled shriek from the struggling demon. It had swiftly put an end to it's prisoner signalling Rosie for assistance — grabbing a washcloth resting on the tub’s rack, it had shoved the soapy rag into Alastor's resistant jaws, forcing the disgusting cloth in to stifle his cries.

Gagging on the suds, acutely aware of the marvellous familiar domestic design of his impending punishment, modelled after Rosie's penchant for the traditional ways, Alastor froze the instant he had felt the Overseer resume it's ministrations.

The tentacle had discovered the source of this evening’s problem.

The glass butt plug Alastor had been wearing all day, as part of the training for Rosie's pegging playtime.

Heart racing, the petrified Overlord senselessly bucked in a vain effort displaying his indignation, clearly unable of going anywhere. Ears rigid and turned back, eager to detect any audible warning to aid his dissolving self-control, there was nothing to suggest the Overseer's movements. Cycling his legs needlessly aloft, the wild kicking at best emphasised to the Overseer that he knewhe was in deep trouble, Alastor's hopeless tactic to curl his bent body in the fetal position offered the excruciating implement a better aim.

Nudging the base of the plug elicited a panic-stricken whimper. Attempts to lift it in any direction drew muffled squeals, the deer trying to kick out, arching his back — quickly stiffening once the Overseer had grabbed the base deftly, pulling it back to almost pop the buried knot past his two inner stretched rings, before releasing the plug to slide it back inside, filling him up again. Groaning wretchedly, the Overlord fought to stay still, unflinching, to present a boring demonstration of the toy's effect. Unsuccessful, for the deer's stressed hole fluttered around the walls of the plug's neck, the stimulation stirring a knot of unwanted arousal in the pit of his belly.

Taking aim, the wooden hairbrush whisked through the air to land squarely on the butt plug.

The Radio Demon's shrill scream cut through the expanse of Rosie's bedroom and antechamber.

Muffled by the soapy washcloth, the scream was impressive.

The Overseer continued without a care, uncompromising and indifferent to the boundaries of safety and sanity.

The tentacle rhythmically spanked Alastor over the butt plug, each heavy blow sending a jolt of overstimulated pleasure rippling through his stretched hole. Each smack was fierce, swung perfectly and unyielding, no pauses to allow a brief respite, until soon enough it had determined the Radio Demon required crueller punishment. Alastor's cheeks had turned a lovely shade of bright red — circular domes patching his exposed skin like a piebald, the skin burning hot and tingling with electricity. Persistent, the stalwart smacks had worked up Alastor's seat and sweet spot to the brink of abrasion.

Swollen and glossy, the first lull in the vigorous, scandalously loud whacks without pause had lured Alastor into a false sense of safety. The tentacle had pulled the cloth gently from his strained jaws, and dipped the cloth into the hot bathwater.

Gasping for breath, wheezing, legs jerking spasmodically, Alastor hadn't the time to scrutinise his supposed preconcevied lesson (had the Shadow and tentacles been waiting all day?) when out of the blue that Overseer had rinsed the washcloth in the hot water, soaking it wellbefore it began soaping up his trembling backside.

Pushing the drenched fabric up betweej his twitching cheeks, roughly nudging the embedded plug deeper to tease, the tentacle methodically wiped his throbbing rump up and down, ignoring it's prisoner's innjured bleats of pain — that was the point. Finding all the crevices and valleys, soaping up his previously fluffy tail to stick up like it was made of papier-mâché, aweeping in under his sac to moisten the fur in front into ruffled spikes as well, encircling the bulge inside his pants in a parting caress, the soap bubbles dotting his swollen cheeks — finally satisfied, it then shoved the offending cloth back between Alastor's clenched jaws, and resumed the spanking ten-fold.

The smacks rained down faster and heavier than he had known, the hot water bringing a brand new element of intensified pain to the volleys of smacks. Whenever it had sensed his inflamed skin was drying out, the Overseer had kept up the strict routine — Alastor obediently relaxing his jaw for the tentacle to remove the washcloth, rinse-and-soak it in the basin, rub a new coat of the soapy lubricant all over his pulsating ass, then reinsert the cloth back inside his waiting mouth.

Rejecting the insulting prop only yielded a stern warning — the tentacle paused it's swings, tapping the middle of the glass plug to tease out another dejected yelp from his hitched throat, before picking up the slack wasted in that momentary lapse of concentration.

This continued for how long, Alastor hadn't given it anythought after he had lost count past the half-hour mark. Dazed, hanging dejectedly, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, the subdued Overlord submitted to the seemingly never-ending punishment. Pitiful sobs choked out on every merciless smack, his tongue around the bunched cloth pushing back to gain relief, saliva drooled out as sticky webs.

The persistent wet smacks didn't slow down, nor ease their rhythm. Caught in the middle, pain and pleasure, the Radio Demon's awareness had been dulled to an inattentive recognition how his buttocks was continuously pounded by the wooden brush despite his compliance, persuaded that yes... he was in the wrong for deceiving Rosie without a transparent talk first — his flesh reddened to a purplish hue.

Surprise tentacles were the worst.

[arcanepactguile]

@tastefulfinery fuck

They’re so cute together

[arcanepactguile]

@tastefulfinery ꜱᴇɴᴛ: ARE YOU OKAY? — ⛈️ to find my muse in the rain without an umbrella.

Motionless at a distance, it was astonishing that Lady Rosie had found him like this.

The immense thunderstorm abating, what was left was an incredible downpour. Raining pitchforks, like how he recalled the phrase went amongst the living. The flashes of lightning illuminating the Cannibal Mayor's grand estate in prolonged glimpses of the entire garden, they had lit up the lifeless Radio Demon's silhouette, casting a solid black shadow over the manicured turf.

Standing well away from the carnivorous plants filling Rosie's exotic garden, it seemed like an incongruous decision, safety from the predatory plants exchanged for the pitfalls of standing out in a heavy rainstorm as if it were a bright and sunny day.

Riveted to the ground, Alastor did not appear to be moving, the unrelenting rainfall pasting his sagged ears to his skull, clothes bonded to his slicked skin. Arms crossed, if Rosie came nearer, within three feet of the troubled Overlord as the rain fell thick and fast shrouding him, she'd have noticed the spark of life had left him, by and large.

Supine, Alastor's face was cast downwards; unmistakably focused on his chest, shoulders rising and falling rapidly — dejected, desolate sobs racking his soaked body. The choked crying was drowned out by the storm, the perfect environment for a spontaneous outburst of torrential emotions matching the intensity of the inclement weather.

Fingers sinking into his clutched elbows, numbness sharpened as the claw tips pricked his skin through the drenched sleeves of his coat.

The front of his shirt had been shredded, slits in the silken material rent partially open in places and in others gaping wide, the Radio Demon's ghostly skin was naked. The Angelic wound healed, the pitted scar exposed, the rain streaming down his body running over the disfigurement drew no response from the demon. The darkened injury taken center stage, Rosie's approaching footsteps hadn't roused the deer demon from his stupor. Void of emotion (save for the rolling weeping, and the clearcut impression of defeated), expressionless, Alastor's line of vision remained stubbornly fixed on the scar.

Staunchly defending his resolution to suffer the thunderstorm, the freezing cold hadn't done anything to sway his opinion, ignoring Rosie's loitering shadow. The forlorn buck refused to be persuaded being outdoors in the middle of the night was not a brilliant idea.

Mud and tufts of grass had saturated one cuff and knee, suggesting at one point of his circuiting Rosie's garden aimlessly, he had stumbled and just managed to avoid hitting the ground completely. He had isolated himself out here for hours already.

Supposing it happened, it was plausible the subdued Overlord wouldn't have gotten back up.

[arcanepactguile]

@tastefulfinery

A gift for @murainhell 🎄📻🌹✨

Here is Alastor walking on his hooves for the first time!

I hope you like it!! Merry Christmas!!

[arcanepactguile]

𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗥𝗨𝗟𝗘𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

🪦 ⸻ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇꜱ / ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅꜱ / ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇꜱ / ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ ⸻

21+ — Dark & heavy themes will be covered, such as toxicity, gore, violence, sex, S/A, substance abuse, & mental illness. My portrayal is Canon Compliant + HCs based, MultiVerses / MultiShips. Med—High activity. 0 tolerance for discourse.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ! — 𝐄𝐒𝐓. 𝟏𝟒.𝟎𝟐.𝟐𝟒 - 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝟐𝟐.𝟏𝟎.𝟐𝟒

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 27 . 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐓 5 . 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗 0 . 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 1.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 — @arcanepactguile-scribes

( ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ)

𝙀𝙓𝘾𝙇𝙐𝙎𝙄𝙑𝙀 @tastefulfinery

𝘼𝙁𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙎 @angie-long-legs @hellsmusing @hellsgreatestperformance @hellsgreatestsideshow @baphomet-slumber-queen

𝙍𝙀𝙂𝙐𝙇𝘼𝙍𝙎 @poisonedspider

𝘽𝙊𝘿𝙔 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏

Some tags explained...

𝙀𝙓𝘾𝙇𝙐𝙎𝙄𝙑𝙀 — Rare. Permanent, canon, privilege as only muse.

𝘼𝙁𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙎 — First pick, blogwide canon, established/heavy.

𝙍𝙀𝙂𝙐𝙇𝘼𝙍𝙎 — Reliable, trusted, etc.

𝘽𝙊𝘿𝙔 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 — Muns who I've just followed, no or little activity.

𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 — 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 : IC, open for threads.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 — 𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭 : Starters.

𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 — 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 & 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑 : Dash comments.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐓 : Not Safe for Tumblr. Spicy.

𝐐&𝐀 — 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 : 00C questions for me.

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — 𝐓𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐈𝐧 : IC questions for Alastor.

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 : HC questions.

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 : Shower thoughts.

𝐇𝐂 — 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 : Headcanons.

𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 — 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭 : IC answers.

𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 — 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 : Anons.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 — 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 : Ships, boards, etc

𝐎𝐎𝐂 — 𝐌𝐮𝐠𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 : 00C questionnaires.

𝐎𝐎𝐂 — 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚! 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚! : Announcements.

𝐎𝐎𝐂 — 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 : OOC RPC musing/jokes.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 — 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 : Taps the sign.

[arcanepactguile]

SILVER TONGUED — 𝕾𝖎𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖉

My default verse if you haven't specified when sending a prompt.

Set during the fallout of the Extermination War against the Angels lead by Adam, Alastor's currently recuperating from the grievous injury Adam had dealt him. Inclined to licking his wounds and bruised ego in private, Alastor's interest in pursuing the success of the Hazbin Hotel has been roughly shaken up by his brush with Death.

The Radio Demon's relationships have also been shaken to the core — his reputation seemingly in tatters, he's been reconsidering his affiliation with the Hotel, and the value in orchestrating redemption.

DEBT TO NATURE — 𝕯𝖊𝖇𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝕹𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊

Set before Alastor had established Hazbin Hotel, and has never met Charlie and her support Vaggie, or the crew. Free range.

Before the Radio Demon had stumbled upon Charlie's fascinating (at the time) endeavour to redeem souls bound for an eternity of suffering, Alastor's living his life as a free-range Overlord with no strings attached, save for his own soul's contract lingering in the background.

As an independent agent, not chained to any business or permanent commitment such as Hazbin: long before he comes across Charlie Morningstar, he's preoccupied pursuing random fancies to use up his time — whether it may be dealing with souls, corruption, forging alliances or enemies, or seeking to resolve his own agendas concerning his life as well as his livelihood.

Set either in SILVER TONGUED or DEBT TO NATURE, this is a AU duplicate, but with one exclusive distinction. Not for Muns squicked out by Teratophilia.

This AU is my portrayal of Alastor (cismale) endowed with a pair of doe's udders. Reference art coming soon. This isn't wholly lewd-focused, but it is shamelessly spicy.

⚠️ He is not intersex or a futa.

FORBIDDEN FRUIT — 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖇𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕱𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖙

An AU, this is a reimagining of Hazbin Hotel established on Earth, humans, with minimal occult supernatural elements.

During the modern era, Alastor's a student at a university that suits every pocket. The young man's a strange student, not finding it easy to make friends, or focus on much else but in maintaining his exemplary grades in order to support his poor family. Always strapped for cash, as a rising star in the student body he's often resented for his high intellect but shoddy clothes.

School is the only avenue where he feels he belongs. Living at home with an abusive father, Alastor's taken to dabbling in the occult to find a solution from his trauma. At the college, he's having trouble keeping the signs of the abuse from being recognised. Working on his deep interest in the power of radio, he's torn between the broadcasts and finding an end to his father to protect his mother.

Unfortunately he's at the center of a wild rumour, accusations of forming sexual relationships or favours through his professors — which are actually true. Professor Husk and Professor Lilith are in danger of losing their jobs and community vilification because of the sordid, age gap affair between student and teacher.

𝑴𝑼𝑵-𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑪𝑰𝑭𝑰𝑪 𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

𝕽𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕾𝖐𝖎𝖓 — @tastefulfinery

𝕷𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖘 — @hells-musing-along

𝕭𝖆𝖉 𝕳𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖘 — @angie-long-legs

𝕿𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝕽𝖎𝖉𝖊 — @poisonedspider

𝕲𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖙𝖞 𝖆𝖘 𝕾𝖎𝖓 — @hellsgreatestperformance

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌'𝖘 𝕻𝖆𝖜𝖓 — @hellsgreatestsideshow

𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕾𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖕 — @baphomet-slumber-queen

𝕯𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝕰𝖝𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘 — @justiceiswrath

[arcanepactguile]

@tastefulfinery

Season’s Greason’s! 🎁

More: Angel, Husk and Niffty

[arcanepactguile]

@tastefulfinery @hellsgreatestsideshow @hellsgreatestperformance

If there's one headcanon I will die on a hill defending, it's that Alastor experiences and indulges in the neurodivergent impulse of nibbling as a means of affection. Just nom. :3

Usually without using his actual teeth, but only light pressure with. He bites Rosie's knuckles when he holds her hand. She has of course made the joke that if he wants a finger he'll have to bite harder than that. Haha, cannibal humor!

He nibbled Husk and Niffty exactly once each. Husk swiped at him once the shock wore off, and Niffty tried to reciprocate with way more force.

Shipping wise, I imagine he'd do it while sleepy if someone touched his face.

Drunken Deer Nom's On Those He Tolerates - More At Ten!

I like to think that Alastor nom's on Rosie, Niffty, and Husk often enough that they're completely desensitized to it. This is new for Charlie, though, she's never been nom'ed by a cannibal before, much less Alastor.

Lucifer gets chomped because Alastor is catching feelings and he's not happy about it.

[arcanepactguile]

@tastefulfinery

Woof!! 🐕