Vander

Excuse you, I am but a humble Curator of Infernal Spheres, Licensed Chief Orbologist, Senior Jewel Appraiser, Chief Sack Scholar, Keeper of the Crown Jewels, and Field Research Coordinator for the Department of Infernal Family Jewels.

A nut sommelier, if you will.

Nonnie, with all due respect, I have no fucking clue what you think it is, but here it is bigger! (That's what Haarlep said-)

(House of) Hope it helps!

First of all, the sheer presence of it. He treats his cock like it’s a piece of high-Renaissance art. We are talking sculpted. I bet he’s got some kind of permanent Infernal contract with a succubus stylist just to make sure the veins are popping in a way that looks "artistically pleasing". It’s not just anatomy to him, Hells forbid, it’s a statement piece. He probably spends twenty minutes in the mirror just admiring the symmetry before he even lets someone near it, humming a little aria to himself.

The girth? Please. He’s a devil of excess. It’s not just "thick", it’s architectural. It’s the kind of girth that makes you question your life choices and the structural integrity of your own hips, but he’d just smirk and tell you that "great art requires a bit of sacrifice" because he is a little shit like that. He knows exactly how much space he’s taking up and he loves the look of genuine shock on a partner's face when they realize the scale of what they're dealing with.

The temperature play now, because this is where it gets truly unhinged. He’s a devil, right? So you’d think he’s just "hot", but Raphael is a perfectionist. He probably manipulates his own internal thermals. One second he’s a simmering, slow-burn warmth that makes you lean in, and the next, he’s practically searing, leaving those little red marks that he can admire later like a proud painter. He’d probably use a literal ice cube from the frozen wastes of Avernus just to shock the system before diving back into that infernal heat.

He probably describes the sensation as "chiaroscuro for the skin"or some shit—the contrast of light and dark, hot and cold. He’s probably got a specific sequence of temperature shifts he employs to maximize the sensory overload, treating your nerves like a harp and he's the only one allowed to play the melody.

He doesn't just "have sex"; He curates an experience. He’d probably give you a guided tour of the "composition" before he even lets you touch him. "Observe the curvature here, the way the light hits the ridge—truly, a masterpiece of the Hells, wouldn't you agree?"