Work Text:
It was nearly time for the nightly broadcast, but tonight would be a bit more…high stakes. For weeks Rosie had been begging to be a part of a broadcast, and the host had a creative way of incorporating her. The rules were simple.
Don't interrupt while he's speaking.
No hard touches or grabbing.
No pain or sudden distractions.
After he took a seat, Rosie sat under his desk. Resting her hands on his knees and leaning her head on his thigh. “I bet I can make you start whining in 5 minutes.” She said with her signature grin.
Alastor's expression couldn't be more flat. “Of course you can, darling.” His tone sounded dismissive as he shuffled his papers and flipped on the switch. “Good afternoon wayward sinners!”
The broadcast began. First with the usual announcements for upcoming events in the pentagram, with a biased highlight on CannibalTown. Rosie smiled up as he babbled on about the wonderful things and lathered her little corner of Hell with sweet words. Her hands on his knees began scratching soft circles. His leg jumped a bit at the touch, but overall went unaffected. That didn't stop her from doing the loving gesture on both sides at once.
Her hands slowly crept behind his knees. Once again making his legs shuffle strangely, but nothing beyond that. If anything, it sounded like he was getting more relaxed in his words. Speaking with extra enthusiasm and energy. Shooting glances down at her. Challenging glances that dared her to do her worst already. As much as she would have loved to start humbling that attitude, she was a woman who understood the reward of patience and strategy.
The teasing walked up his thighs and rested at his hips. Scratching away at the divets that were so beautifully easy to reach through his high-waisted pants. His hips did a small dance at the initial touch, but he was able to steel himself. Keep his body still and his voice going. Rosie raised her brows playfully. “They can't hear me, can they?” her voice barely rose above a whisper but it was enough for Alastor’s ears to flick towards it. He shook his head at her. Beautiful.
“Since they can't hear me and I'm not interrupting you…” she talked, making it sound like she was speaking to herself, “I still think I can make you whine soon. I know the spots that make your mind turn to mush. Like your pretty little tummy…especially that belly button.” His stomach instinctively sucked in. A full body jolt as she gently rubbed over it. “Shh, shh…I'm not that mean. I'll save it for last.”
Alastor shot her another glance. This one more annoyed than anything.
“What's wrong? Do you wish I'd go for that first? I can always change plans.”
As her hands snaked to the sides of his belly, he flew to grab her wrists. His grip tight, but not enough to distract from his lovely broadcast. His voice was chipper as usual, laced with cheesy humor and faked laughter at his own terrible jokes.
“If you let my hands go, I could make you laugh for real. Really sell it for the audience. Not that fake thing you do to make it seem funny.”
His annoyed glare sharpened. Hands did not let go.
“But I'm a woman of my word. Belly last. Right now I wanna explore somewhere else.”
He allowed her to travel up his sides. Fingers spidering slowly as they climbed. A slight shake came into his voice as she neared under his arms, though not enough for the average listener to tell a difference. Her touch went back and forth right under the spot. A single claw occasionally ventured out slightly further under the arm to make their victim twitch in his seat.
All of a sudden they slid fully on the spot. His arms clamped down in retaliation as his voice cracked for a second. Something he brushed off with a polite “excuse me” before blabbing on. Rosie's claws wiggled in their prison. Slowly tugging the corners of his smile up until it could be heard in his words.
“Now you sound like you're actually happy to talk about the news for once!” Rosie chimed. All she got in return was a kick under the table. That didn't stop her. The tickles kept building up until he was twisting away in his seat. Her hands followed. The broadcast went on.
A few laughs escaped in a place that sounded naturally appropriate when making jokes about the latest VoxTek innovations. As much as Rosie would've loved for the tickles to interrupt his show, she decided that was good enough for now. Her hands moved back down his body, down his legs, settling on his shoes. “You look so handsome with your smile! It's a shame nobody can see it. But when I get my hands on your pretty hooves, they'll be able to hear it. Loud and clear.”
Alastor awkwardly twisted in his chair to get his feet away from her. Even reaching down to claw her arms away. But she was stubborn. Persistent. To the point that he would sound bad for the audience if she didn't get her way. So he gave up and decided to take it. He could take anything, after all. Some tickles weren't going to derail his show.
The shoes came off, and Rosie lightly clawed over the top. Loving how his shoulders raised and smile turned almost up to his eyes. Now he was narrating the murder of an overlord, and Rosie quite enjoyed the extra joyful edge to his storytelling voice. Everyone could hear the amount of twisted satisfaction that he got from recounting each detail.
Her hands slowly migrated to the underside, nails scratching into the soft part between the hoof nails and dew claws. A spot that never failed to make him bliss out. His voice became softer. Eyes fluttered. She could tell he was focusing on his breathing to continue the story coherently. It sounded like he truly zoned out and got lost in the details of the torture and the screaming. That was the little sadist that she loved so much. The side of himself that he tried to hide, but there was no holding back the giggles and smiles during tickles.
“And then…and then they couldn't fight any more. And you know what I did?” His voice trailed off into giggles as he kicked his hooves excitedly, Rosie letting go for only a moment. “I took my knife, sliced their throat, and watched them choke and die on their own blood!”
Alastor was beginning to go into manic laughter all on his own, but Rosie couldn't help but contribute. She quickly jousted her fingers into his ribs, roughly tickling and vibrating in between the bones. His laughter rose in pitch and energy. Her smile widened, too. Pearly white daggers glistening bright. After a minute, her hands slipped off to give him a break. He gasped and hiccuped for breath. Taking quite a while to recover.
“Ah, that was a good one! Now it's onto the last part of our broadcast. How about we end the night with some jokes?” He raised his brow at Rosie. Once again daring her to do her worst. But he couldn't have prepared himself for the evil plan inside her head.
The first joke.
“Why did the spy cross the road?”
A dramatic pause.
“Because he never was on your side! Ahaha!”
After his half-baked laugh, he looked down at Rosie seeming somewhat annoyed. As if he expected her to tickle him as part of the punchline. Oh well, the show must go on.
“If a child refuses to nap, is he guilty of resisting a rest? Ohoho!”
No tickle.
This time he looked downright offended. She was simply staring up at him from under the table, a cheeky grin pasted on her face. She reached for his shirt and lifted it up slightly to reveal his belly button. A happy chill ran through his body as he prepared a third joke. Excitement laced in his voice, but a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“This one's a bit of a story! So there was a man named Mr. Jordan, and he saw the little boy next door burying something in the ground and crying…”
As he told the story, his voice suddenly hitched. Rosie leaned into his belly and covered it with gentle kisses. On the left side, trailing to the right. Then going from the center waistline and pecking up to his belly button. The kisses were warm and gentle, making his mind melt until he nearly forgot his joke. But the show must go on! Kisses would not stop him.
“He called out ‘Top of the morning to ya! What are you up to?’ and the little boy wiped his tears and said ‘I buried my gold- gold- g-’”
Suddenly Rosie's tongue pressed into his belly button and ate it in a sloppy kiss. More kisses turned into soft bites, shocking his body with all kinds of warm, fuzzy feelings. So overbearing that he couldn't think or talk. Only smile. Laugh. Be cute and dumb.
“Goldfish- Ohhh-”
More nibbles and licks around his furry tummy had the denizens of Hell listening to a new kind of broadcast. Nothing but the happiest of sighs and ticklish whines.
“You can finish telling everyone your joke, sweetie.” Rosie encouraged between kisses, “Surely my lovins aren't making you blank out that hard?”
But they were. Just when he thought he could go on, another shock of tingles would melt him back into his chair. Part of him wanted to beg for it to stop, the other couldn't get enough. His hands came down, one on her head and the other on her shoulder. Squeezing her closer. Grabbing onto her with each new wave. His joke lost in the whimpers and giggles of sweet bliss.
Eventually he managed to speak.
“Tune back in tomorrow for the punchline! That's all folks!”
But Rosie wasn't just a normal part of the audience. Her show continued on. A front row seat to making the Radio Demon the happiest man in all of Hell. Making him laugh and smile in ways that nobody else was privileged enough to witness.