a-hazbin-spider

[a-hazbin-spider]

“Hm, even for a pig, he ain’t a squealer. And I guess he ain’t one for words neither. Either way his Daddy ain’t raised no snitch! He likes to steal snacks though, I gotta make sure he has a supply, or things would go missin’!”

Angel chuckles softly, ease working its way through him as he feels the welcome warmth of what had to be… a form of camaraderie, friendliness that made it a little easier to breathe with him. And perhaps that might be the delectable smell of the meal they’d cooked together. But, you know what they say, the way to a man’s heart is said to be through the stomach! Even if that statement is in no way anatomically correct… There is something magical about sharing a meal, he can’t deny.

That- it is something he can say for certain. He often lacks suitable time or energy, quite familiar with the situation of being needed in one place or another, or being busy. Often he finds that if he isn’t here before the others rise, then the time for this is usually passed.

He’d felt lighter already. Well, in that area of his chest and shoulders at least. He’s still a bit sluggish, feeling heavy. But he is sure the nice meal before him will make him feel better. The fried egg giving a pleasantly fresh smell with the pepper and spice used.

He’s a little cautious, in a way that he’s making sure the plate is secure when it’s held. When it is offered to him, it’s taken gratefully, the warmth and smell savored just a moment but he doesn’t exactly wait for anything to cool, he’s convinced he needed a big bite right away. Yeah it’s hot, sure, but also he’s gratified by it being delicious. He’s not overzealous about it, but he does certainly show appreciation for the flavor.

“Fabulous..!” He feels a little silly, and perhaps a little like a stereotype, but it brought a good mood about him, it had been a good while since he had something nice and filling such as this. Of course he can appreciate it in its entirety.

“I don’t think I’ve had em cooked this way b’fore. I’ve used hotsauce, or soysauce but, this is definitely better. An’ it’s perfect texture too.” He has no choice, he’s gotta praise where he sees fit! He won’t praise something that’s not deserving, but he is in no way shy to give credit where it’s due. Especially seeing that it’d made him a bit giddy.

Hm. He’d definitely need to remember to approach their agreement with some form of caution and respect. Though in the mean time, this should give good insight. After all, he had been serious as to bring offerings for Alastor to eat should he really need some place else to feel security.

Sadly, there’s no such power that Angel has to read or sort thoughts, but, regardless of how little he believed his thoughts or efforts were worth, the minuscule result to be chastised- it is true that he did think of Alastor. And he found himself reaching out more and more, despite knowing the stag is capable, and astronomically more powerful, he puts himself in a position to aid, or simply to offer himself even without being prompted. Truly. It was strange. Then again, while he was no Samaritan, he considered the other to have importance. In general for sure, but to him.

Sure wishes that he could do a little more than hope, but, anything he can scratch the surface of… suppose it’d have to do. It’s all someone like him could do.

Angel flips the steak once more, nearly finished anyway. It won’t be long til they can eat. But it did give enough time for Alastor to flatter him beyond words. Well, beyond any words he knew. The trust and the benevolence given from an offer like that is nothing short of incredible. Alastor is an astounding type, one that really expects nothing from him. Never forces his hand, or makes his company any more conditional. He’s sure nobody else could get such a genuine and quite frankly generous offer such as that one. When the meat is seared and to a medium level of being cooked, the burner is flicked off, a small nod of finality given to say he was satisfied with it. It’d helped him have his eye on something else so he didn’t make his cheeks burn any brighter.

Angel is sure to keep his voice hushed, it drops into a lower pitch to murmur just above a whisper for his security. “You’d do that..? I think, I like that offer. I c’n promise nobody’d hear bout it. Aside from my pig.” He adds the last part for honesty’s sake, as well as the fact that it’d likely be something to ease any possible tension. Though in hindsight, there was the likelihood he may ask about rules for his pet at some point in the future.

“I appreciate it. I’ll be good about it, too. Maybe I can bring a snack over for ya, make it somethin’ nice.”

Though, knowing Alastor, he knows the other won’t do things if he is truly against it. But still, Angel would much rather bring a presence of elation or mutual comfort rather than that of some terrified kid who’s pissed the bed or something. But the gratitude he has for Alastor willing to take him in like he had before, both in health and in physical dismay, is certainly not wasted. Hell, Alastor had even thought it fine without taking the blood that Angel had agreed to give.

“Oh- speakin’ of: it’s ready.” Brightly, Angel gestures a little invitation for the stag to start off.

[a-hazbin-spider]

"Woooow, it's opened some portal!"

Call Me Kevin Goat! //@mysteriouslyhopefulstranger

“Some portal that is. Yeah. Look familiar to ya at all? Is this worth th’ wait?” Guess it’s certainly been a while, but a neighborhood in the dead of night is empty of any people walking about. Not like he knows much about anything recent upstairs. It’d be Alice’s reaction that’d tell him anything.

[a-hazbin-spider]

“Oh yeah, no, of course, why ain’t I thought of that? Sure. Anyway. It’s gettin’ hard t’breathe in my area. Not to sound- ungrateful, or whatever, but ain’t there an extinguisher? Literally anywhere? Boss’s ‘busy’.”

"Don't buzz me! I'll lick all of you!" And/ or

“Building’s on fire by the way, I don’t know if people have realized that.”

@a-hazbin-spider

Call Me Kevin's "I played goat simulator 3 so you don't have to" (Part 1)

"Yeah, it sure looks like that building's on fire. It's not mine, though, so I really don't give a shit."

[a-hazbin-spider]

Angel made a groan at the first sentiment. Yeah it was sweet, and it tugs at a desire- one he’d never speak of for that sort of thing. But also, come on- his image was everything. Not that the skill part hadn’t gone appreciated. It’s painstaking to keep himself up to snuff.

His eyes close with a little mood of peace washing over as his hair is pet. Oh… that felt nice. Soothing over his scalp.

“Creativity ain’t got a lot to do with pretending to love every moneyshot, and every dick shoved into me. Pfft. But. Thanks fer that lil vote of confidence, sugar. I know it takes a lil somethin’ to crawl to the top n’ stay there. I’d be a lil devastated if’n you ain’t thought I was at least a lil bit handsome!”

“Ah?! Noo! You ain’t s’posed to ask me that!” Squawking indignantly, Angel gives a lighthearted shove, nothing that would dare shoo him away though. No, this hug was his, thank you very much.

“I had fuckin better look good. I’m not number one by bein’ a hag, am I? You sure look like a handsome hunk, I can assure ya.”

[a-hazbin-spider]

Call Me Kevin's "I played goat simulator 3 so you don't have to" (Part 1)

"Ah yes, the GOAT of gaming." "You probably heard about it. Panic in the streets. Everyone's going crazy." "Oh my god, is this some Skyrim parody?" "Okay, that woman just got crushed." "I cannot understand what this accent is meant to be." "Woooow, it's opened some portal!" "It's a bit of a fixer-upper. It looked fine from the outside." "Just doing a little bit of interior decorating. I prefer more of an open chaotic plan." "Can goats climb ladders?" "Forget about it, I'm gonna drive a tractor instead." "Are these bombs? …oh I'm pretty sure they're bombs. …they were bombs!" "Found something else to lick." "Oh, manure sculptures! How much are they, I wonder?" "This is the world's largest corn apparently." "I'm doing backflips on the news but they don't care about me." "I stole this cameraman. I'm gonna take him into the woods." "Oh my god, someone as violent as me!" "I think you broke more than your jaw." "Oh they like me! That's nice." "I'm gonna dump one of you in the river, come here." "They're all just standing around clapping for corn." "How strong is that weapon of hers!? I don't know how to make her stop." "I'm in a totally new area all of a sudden." "I still have no idea what I'm doing." "Excellent, I now have a jetpack." "Just a normal person just doing person stuff." "People are paid to clean up after me, right?" "This jetpack is not as handy as I thought it would be." "There we go! I finally did something!" "I think that guy is dead." "I really am an all terrain vehicle." "Oh my god what the hell is wrong with your house?" "Don't buzz me! I'll lick all of you!" "I really really would like to try running over an old lady with a van." "Feels like I'm actually doing something good for once." "Is that why they did this? For that pun? I approve." "When I say 'help,' I mean I'm going to try and crush that man." "Could I just headbutt that old lady?" "I've always wanted to headbutt an old lady." "Jesus, she's getting angry!" "I can close the gap eventually, it'll just be a lot of pain for me!" "Yes! I finally destroyed the old lady!" "Nice basement! Very similar to mine, except I don't have this dartboard." "I don't feel very safe." "Oh no, not more of this." "Is this what I did all this for?" "Oh no there's more! I thought I was done! I've already killed like four of them!" "I got...a magic rocking chair?" "Let's go deal some elderly damage on the elderly." "Oh NOW your aim is bad. Yeah. Fine. Whatever." "Oh what a shot, Granny!" "He's on a skateboard, everyone." "Oh my god he's so cool!" "I can definitely get knocked over by vehicles." "Can't think of a better protagonist for a horror game than a shark on a skateboard." "Yay, I did it! That was strange." "You tell me that doesn't look cool and I will tell you that you are a liar." "I saw them just walk through the wall." "Building's on fire, by the way. I don't know if people have realized that." "The power of cardio compels you!" "What a strange impulse purchase." "I've absolutely ruined this shark's life." "Is that a magic bowling ball?" "I'm just going around stealing things now. I'm not earning them anymore." "You think I have friends?" "Beautiful majestic creatures — much like myself." "This doesn't seem cruel at all." "I guess it's good that I'm saving him. This is saving him, right?" "I hope you like my dress, by the way." "This should set you free. I hope." "I look so fancy with my jetpack and my little ballgown." "The selfish part of me says keep torturing everyone in exchange for house upgrades."

[a-hazbin-spider]

Well, at least he admitted to some of it. But, he can’t be too hard on him. He already put his courage forth when he approached. And has continued to hold a pretty sturdy ground for himself. Had to give him that much. He flashes his teeth in a grin, shoulders bouncing in a soft laugh. “Is that right? Here I was thinkin’ cabs would be grabbed left n’ right to get outta tha cold faster.”

Jacob’s face reminded him of flame being bright in the center, or some metal being heated from an ashy color to a scalding, nearly melting pyre. White hot was a descriptor for a reason! But maybe he was pushing the mark of being too hot to handle. The cabby was getting flustered, and clearly still looked nervous.

“Mmhm? ‘Fraid you’s not entirely too descriptive when you say graphic, if you meant rough, bloody or y’know- just the sex itself. I s’pose I ain’t do a ton of soft-core porn.” The idea itself is a little funny to him. Why not just buy a pinup? Watch a dance routine? He’s sure a guy could jack it to that. At least enjoy the aesthetic without the sex if that was really his goal. Angel can’t think of anyone who’s quite like that though. Strange indeed. Meek and without any underlying causes it’d appear.

“Hm. Well. If you’s so inclined. I s’pose I won’t turn it down. I do got a walk to the entertainment district if’n you think you can stomach that.” Though, he wouldn’t say he was cold of course!

Did this guy start… sparkling or something? Angel swears that he can see a light behind those eyes- or more of a light. He looked so happy, maybe happy wasn’t the right word, but there was a certain wonder about his expression that only made Angel feel his own face show a little of his own emotion. A big fat question mark. Was this guy okay? He’s acting like he’s the one getting a favor, not Angel. Yeah, maybe this one hit his head or something.

Now that he thinks, that’s the expression of a kid seeing a disney princess. He can reason that he is all that is glorious about a fantasy celebrity. But for someone in his field, usually the equivalent of that is a wolf whistle.

Then again… Angel can see that this Jacob guy is already flushed in the face. Maybe he just found a fan that is soft and goodie-goodie as they come. Not impossible, but it feels improbable. What does he care why, he has a smoke over it, and with it being his own cigarette it can’t exactly have been tampered with. He’ll take a little kissing up from a fan. Why not? “A’right then, Jacob it is. Nice gesture f’sure. Don’t s’pose you need a smoke fer ya break. Lookin’ a lil tense.”

Someone ought to tell him it isn’t very nice to tease, but even as his tongue clicks at the sight of the babbling cabby, he does open his pack to be taken from. “From th’ looks of it, that paintjob alone tells me you’s gotta be good at it. I ain’t sure I’ll help yer business by hitchin’ a ride though. But I wouldn’t pass up an offer like that. You like my work or somethin?~” Even if ordinarily, free rides from strangers can be a little risky. But, in all honesty, Angel had a bit of doubt that this one could hurt him, even if he wanted to.

[a-hazbin-spider]

Sadly, there’s no such power that Angel has to read or sort thoughts, but, regardless of how little he believed his thoughts or efforts were worth, the minuscule result to be chastised- it is true that he did think of Alastor. And he found himself reaching out more and more, despite knowing the stag is capable, and astronomically more powerful, he puts himself in a position to aid, or simply to offer himself even without being prompted. Truly. It was strange. Then again, while he was no Samaritan, he considered the other to have importance. In general for sure, but to him.

Sure wishes that he could do a little more than hope, but, anything he can scratch the surface of… suppose it’d have to do. It’s all someone like him could do.

Angel flips the steak once more, nearly finished anyway. It won’t be long til they can eat. But it did give enough time for Alastor to flatter him beyond words. Well, beyond any words he knew. The trust and the benevolence given from an offer like that is nothing short of incredible. Alastor is an astounding type, one that really expects nothing from him. Never forces his hand, or makes his company any more conditional. He’s sure nobody else could get such a genuine and quite frankly generous offer such as that one. When the meat is seared and to a medium level of being cooked, the burner is flicked off, a small nod of finality given to say he was satisfied with it. It’d helped him have his eye on something else so he didn’t make his cheeks burn any brighter.

Angel is sure to keep his voice hushed, it drops into a lower pitch to murmur just above a whisper for his security. “You’d do that..? I think, I like that offer. I c’n promise nobody’d hear bout it. Aside from my pig.” He adds the last part for honesty’s sake, as well as the fact that it’d likely be something to ease any possible tension. Though in hindsight, there was the likelihood he may ask about rules for his pet at some point in the future.

“I appreciate it. I’ll be good about it, too. Maybe I can bring a snack over for ya, make it somethin’ nice.”

Though, knowing Alastor, he knows the other won’t do things if he is truly against it. But still, Angel would much rather bring a presence of elation or mutual comfort rather than that of some terrified kid who’s pissed the bed or something. But the gratitude he has for Alastor willing to take him in like he had before, both in health and in physical dismay, is certainly not wasted. Hell, Alastor had even thought it fine without taking the blood that Angel had agreed to give.

“Oh- speakin’ of: it’s ready.” Brightly, Angel gestures a little invitation for the stag to start off.

As it so happens, Angel does recall this, hence why he had made his assumption with a bit of finality. Suppose it never did hurt to have well wishes for the other, but it wasn’t like hopes did anything for the other party. No, all they do is hold a space for someone even with empty hands. No real aid, only an acknowledgement that Angel had thought of the other. And really, what is it good for if he didn’t have anything to offer? Exactly.

“Yeh, I thought so! Don’t mean we might not get lucky every once in a while. But, I r’member y’told me that. B’fore puttin’ on a lil music.” One palm gestured into the air, a vague nod to the tune jaunting around them. Just in case, he holds his tongue about the reason behind that visit, or the fact there was a visit at all. He’d hate to wake Alastor up via making his heart drop.

Putting that aside the pan for the eggs were already smelling delectable. Had he been any less lucid, he might show for the fact his mouth was watering. Not totally unresponsive though, a little sniff lends an appreciative hum. It’d been quite some time since he’d been allowed a treat like this. Only thing catching him off guard being the noise of an eggshell. Angel can’t say he’s any better, if he is without company, many things go into his mouth. Can’t say the sandiness of eggshell hadn’t been one. Not something he’d do often, he’d rather use it for something else, or grind it down. Definitely didn’t like how it crunched much as the stag did that’s for sure. Still, Most things that don’t go into a dish can and will be used by him or his pig.

That thought about the eggshells or the phantom feeling of the crunch on his senses gets swiped when he’s asked about his own predicament. He almost defensively asked Alastor to admit his own first. Instead, he gives half a shrug, only hesitating a moment before being oddly cooperative. Surprised even himself on that front. “Well, it ain’t the room. Probably tha best place I’ve ever had. But, you could say I have trouble settlin in and gettin’ comfortable sometimes.”

It is a little odd to leave the proverbial door ajar like that. Much like dipping one’s foot into a body of water, despite not being a full plunge, it is still being exposed. How much did Alastor really want to hear about any hallucinations, nightmares, or pains? It’s hard to say he’d want to talk about tweaking enough to break his mirror, or that his own clothes on his skin felt painful enough some nights. His body was always working against him. That traitor,

[a-hazbin-spider]

Regardless of how fancy or fragrant (in this case lack thereof-) Angel looks to deflate a little, relax where he is positioned as he takes in the familiar scent, all the while hoping to help relax the other. While the other is mostly composed of machine, wire, surely, he thinks, surely he feels tension and would feel the perceived muscle being tended to.

He moves his head a little, just enough to allow movement for Vox’s own, his face rubbing into the back of his shoulder. That’s right, affection at its finest, isn’t it?

“You got plenty to do, don’t ya? S’a good thing you don’t need to be pulled away, considerin’ I came here to make sure you don’t overwork so much you shut down.” Also because he missed him. He’d say that if he didn’t think he’d sound like he was jokingly being a housewife.

“Got a lotta footage, but then a lotta shit broke. That means I’m free to bug you~”

There’s a short sniff into the fabric of Vox’s top, his fingers finding a nice spot to circle over before his chin props similarly, his grin in an almost droopy form of contentment. Vox certainly was comforting, and someone who treaded the lines of professionalism and domesticity like he were walking a tightrope.

But Angel isn’t one to talk. Not about pushing things that he shouldn’t. Even still. He isn’t the type to jump a ship.

Or a set of shoulders evidently. His head shakes lightly, a little refusal for the offer of the couch. He was quite content being a little insect (or arachnid, whatever pulls the point across) perched where he was. He liked it like that. Was this clingy behavior? Maybe a little, but it felt good to be close. And it wasn’t a total loss, the CEO can get a massage from him.

“Hmm. I dunno about that. I’m pretty comfy right here. B’sides, I like gettin’ to see you. I can stay like this for a lil while.”

[a-hazbin-spider]

“Ah?! Noo! You ain’t s’posed to ask me that!” Squawking indignantly, Angel gives a lighthearted shove, nothing that would dare shoo him away though. No, this hug was his, thank you very much.

“I had fuckin better look good. I’m not number one by bein’ a hag, am I? You sure look like a handsome hunk, I can assure ya.”

A hand goes dramatically over his head. Mimicking a faint into the man offering a hug. Fully appreciated by him, for the record.

“Oh no~! Say it ain’t so, Sugar Cain! I can’t b’lieve you’d say that! Ninety-some years is old?! My poor heart!” He giggles a little before staring forward. “Oh my god, I’m old-”

[a-hazbin-spider]

There’s a short sniff into the fabric of Vox’s top, his fingers finding a nice spot to circle over before his chin props similarly, his grin in an almost droopy form of contentment. Vox certainly was comforting, and someone who treaded the lines of professionalism and domesticity like he were walking a tightrope.

But Angel isn’t one to talk. Not about pushing things that he shouldn’t. Even still. He isn’t the type to jump a ship.

Or a set of shoulders evidently. His head shakes lightly, a little refusal for the offer of the couch. He was quite content being a little insect (or arachnid, whatever pulls the point across) perched where he was. He liked it like that. Was this clingy behavior? Maybe a little, but it felt good to be close. And it wasn’t a total loss, the CEO can get a massage from him.

“Hmm. I dunno about that. I’m pretty comfy right here. B’sides, I like gettin’ to see you. I can stay like this for a lil while.”

Woe, spider be upon ye. At least he had the courtesy to not flop on Vox’s work. And not to eat or drink in the library office. Hard to even tell if he’s off the clock. But he is letting his arms drape over the overlord’s body, and knead at his back.

@a-hazbin-spider ?

@a-hazbin-spider | Hardly woe! Vox enjoys Angel's company.

There is something to be said for the image of this being innocent but not innocuous. But then again, that seems, increasingly, to be the theme of he and Angel's interactions. Everything is excusable, is rife with plausible deniability internally and externally, but that doesn't keep the suspicions at bay either.

Vox hits send on the email. While the screen makes it impossible to turn and face Angel, he catches the spider's eyes in the darkened reflection of the laptop. "Hello sweetheart," he say. "How nice ot see you," here, he doesn't add. He's used to the penthouse or one of the many studios. But his office is a slight offshoot of their usual script.

"You know, I have a couch in here," he says, nodding towards it. "I'm sure it's more comfortable than my shoulders."

[a-hazbin-spider]

Distinctive throbbing tugs at his heart with a lightness that made him feel a little better again. Seeing Valentino’s little smiles meant the world to him. Because those were real. They didn’t hold a need for cheating out, or performance. They weren’t manic like they were on one of his power trips, or a sneer in disguise. No, it was a peek into a genuine contentedness. Made him think things would be okay.

With his hair getting a little attention, Angel’s head leans into the touch. Eyes briefly closing to enjoy the rare occasion of something kind and gentle from those hands.

He would be fine. And Valentino was putting in a little effort here- even offered to show his sketches again. Parts of him that he knew to be personal. Parts he hadn’t seen in so long. For that, at the very least he’d better be sure he looks nice for him. Lucky, he never does think there is a need to go too crazy.

“Mmh, black is always a sexy look. Maybe addin’ an accent of purple will really tie in for matchin’ up, compliment yer pretty complexion.”

Coordination, a certain degree of oneness, well it sure did give a secure sense of belonging, and a slightly unnerving comfort of being a comparable purse dog. Yet he was off a leash for now, and looking best in show again. Without being shy, he can begin stripping. Clothing doesn’t just put itself on. And a robe is pretty easy to shuck off. Show a bit of underbelly as well. Submitting, giving the other himself in a more vulnerable lens. Not that being bare is foreign, but, he’s reaching out so to speak, giving a show of his trust. Smart idea or not, making peace meant he’d need to show good faith. Be willing and malleable again.

“You c’n see it, right? Jus’ a lil somethin’ soft to highlight a gorgeous silhouette.” Even with a robe damn near falling off his own form. He gestures, and presents the idea using Valentino as the model, hovering- barely ghosting his fingers over the moth. Yet giving him his full attention.

Valentino had leered over him at a good point, he looked good again. Pretty enough for Valentino’s time. Satisfaction shouldn’t well up like it does but, sure enough, he felt better knowing that Val would approve. He leans back after another once over, closer to the moth’s chest, and scrutinizing gaze. Of course he knows that that man is an artist. Valentino was a man of passion. He took every medium he could express his vision on with precision and made sure to perfect it to his liking. Every scene, every cut, every detail. Valentino cared to express and push the image in his head no matter how unreasonable it may be. He has care into the parts that matter most to him, and often takes liberties with Angel to make his latest projects what he wanted. On or off paper. Angel recognizes his place as an artist whether or not he can name it.

Being his muse, his starlet, his poster boy, and a picture perfect ‘little love’. It meant he was something that Valentino had passion for, that he was a part of something Valentino took with utmost pride, and maybe a bit of care into. Not always the ways that he used to, like when ideas were shared more often, and when he modeled things that sparked inspiration in those gorgeous red eyes. No, maybe it wasn’t quite like that. Maybe he had been remembering with a rosy pair of glasses all his own.

Intimacy wasn’t exactly something that was simple with Valentino. Hell, it was complicated as the word can stretch. If not for the man himself being complex as he was forward, then it was for how Angel still found it difficult to know how much of it was even close to real. Of course he would have doubts- it didn’t take a genius to find strain and it didn’t take insecurity to have the harsh words wiggle deep into his gray matter like a parasite. Make him wonder if there was something stamped out like a cigarette butt- well, if there was something to start.

And then there were parts where he saw parts of Val being real, sharing parts of himself that lit up and that told him all that he needed to lift from his chest. Where he felt warm, where he did feel like there might be something. That maybe Valentino had something in him that did care about him after all.

Valentino offers to bring his sketchbook with, and Angel’s eyes brighten, flicker to life again for a little while, the tap feeling like a shock that belonged to a different Vee. But, he couldn’t say it was bad, not by a long shot. He even looks to know what an honor it is. It must have been ages since he’d seen those sketches. Those pretty birds, the outfits, the self portraits…

Angel takes a few extra precautions- a quick assurance he really is picture perfect as he takes his added invite with excitement. It had been so long, and things like that- they were personal, and it was a sort of vulnerability that might mean something good.

“Sí-sí, Papi..! I’d really like that.” Hands smooth over his front for good measure, his grin a bit too bubbly to hide. Though he stays at a respectable distance, one of a short leash, he’d lit up considerably.

[a-hazbin-spider]

@thehazbingang77 [ Husk. ]

" It seems just I swear you don't have any value for your own life and it really frustrates me because you are more worth then you think you are you life does matter." Husk says, he thinks the same exact way but won't admit it but it's just he cares too much about Angel to watch them think that way. " Passively you let everybody just do whatever they want to do to you. Look, I know you're used to being kidnapped and stuff you do it a lot, I can't tell you how to live your life but a word of advice don't keep telling yourself the same story, you're worth more then you think and I don't mean money wise."

“Hah..?” Angel stares back. Unsure how to deny, unsure how to respond at all, really. He didn’t want the case to be so, but he knew that the feline wasn’t wrong. With light shone on it, it is hard to hide. Husk has seen it with his own eyes. Angel willing to be drugged. Angel brushing off his damage, putting himself under the thumb of others, his life seen as less than- merely for the use of others’. Even Husk. Hell- especially Husk. Angel sees how good he is. And wished that he did too.

“Well- a’course not. I know exactly how much I’m worth money wise. Nobody can tell me I’m a cheap whore.” He tries in vain to crack a joke, ease the tension, but… it was heavy. Unfortunately. As usual, he’s quick to deflect. “It ain’t like that. Why you spilling this on me?”

[a-hazbin-spider]

♪ You want perfection? Lost in pursuit of it? Take my direction! I can lead you to it! The audience is not your friend; You just love their applause. Cause an honest artist isn't what they want. Better off with the mask on! ♫

Indie — Private — Selective

Multi-muse for several iterations of ALASTOR from HAZBIN HOTEL

18+ only

Broadcasted by Sunny

Please ♡ and/or ♻ if you're interested in interacting with any of the Alastors on this blog!

[a-hazbin-spider]

A hand goes dramatically over his head. Mimicking a faint into the man offering a hug. Fully appreciated by him, for the record.

“Oh no~! Say it ain’t so, Sugar Cain! I can’t b’lieve you’d say that! Ninety-some years is old?! My poor heart!” He giggles a little before staring forward. “Oh my god, I’m old-”

"What is a Rizz?"

[a-hazbin-spider]

See that? It’s a bratty little pout. Not enough to be truly angry, but just enough to push his annoyance to the surface. Hmph! It would appear he didn’t have a choice here either. But on one hand, he could feel a little glad that he was wanted around here. Just a little. That won’t cover for Alastor trying to blackmail.

“Uh-huh. Don’t break your arm jerking off to them thoughts of me. Whatever, tell em’ what you want- I’ll get into shit for it if I get another shitty coverage in the media. It really don’t matter if you lie or not.” Lying as far as he was concerned. He’s no coward, and there were plenty of fellas who had been hurt by his hand that would have to agree!

Angel steps forward, a silent agreement to do whatever it was that he was planning. Guess he would see what the plan was eventually. “Where’d you get this thing, anyway? Don’t tell me someone just had it layin’ around.”

@thehazbingang77 [ Alastor] " Angel, won't you be my playmate? i got a new toy it's a guillotine!" He wraps an arm around the spider demon with their signature grin. " Won't that be funnnn?"

Angel makes a little groan. Almost like a child whining over doing a chore, despite the likelihood of this being dangerous being rather high. Playing sounded fun but he had a feeling Alastor was just looking to use it on him rather than anything else.

“Nooo, you’re jus’ tryina snuff me fa free. I ain’t wanna go t’limbo t’night.”

[a-hazbin-spider]

Gasp! His rim is stretched a little further, Val’s tongue sinking in for him to feel just how heightened his senses were. Especially when that sweet spot is brushed, and the poison sinks into him. The way he’s spread, and held so purposefully only makes it feel even more incredible. With each panted breath he can feel his throat tense, muted whines growing louder with each move the other man makes.

Muscle twitches over the dexterous appendage, his own control over himself dying the more his hole is given a thorough exploration. Really it takes very little time to get him sobbing out his moans from his chest, each languid motion driving him crazy, and forcing his voice to pitch itself. No fair, he’s a mess, and completely at the mercy of the moth. Not that it was a bad thing. At this moment his skin felt like it’d been alight, white hot as his tongue presses and thrusts so purposefully.

Surely the hands gripped over him can feel how helplessly his legs shake as the spider keens loudly, clawing into the surface below. Valentino made it so difficult, Angel was nothing but a dripping mess, drunken on pleasure, and entirely overwhelmed by the stimulation pairing with all that poison he’d been soaking in. It’d made that burning coil in his stomach start to tighten up again. So close..! And Valentino just kept torturing his sweet spots, rendering any words to sobs. It didn’t take too long to succumb.

It’s not easy to have those eyes look at him, and not melt, seep further into the sheets like the mixtures of slick and semen that had made a mess prior.

Kisses are planted almost strategically over his body, sensitive spots mapped on his body cause him to gasp, leaving his mouth gaped. Already he’d felt like he’d been raw, or perhaps over his limit, however his body twitches and seems to arch and ache for more all the same.

“Val..! Wait, what’re you- mmmngh~!” Just as easily as muscles mended and were soothed beneath Valentino’s strong skillful hands, they twitch and make futile attempts at writhing while being pinned. And ever the awe inspiring, it appears as though the moth does this with no trouble. What was more, his tongue is dutiful and precise over soft skin and velvety fur. Inching closer to his folds, and practically delighting in the spend like it’d been a sweet cream drizzled over him. It spurs a spark in his gut. Fuck- why’d it have to be so hot and just so good..!

Angel’s tongue slips from his own gasping mouth, the taste of Valentino, and the remnants from his cock down his throat add to just how much he’d loved this. Clearly taste wasn’t under-appreciated by Val either. He can feel the deep humming from his moan, his body takes it in like a shoot of the hard stuff. Moaning scratches deep in his throat, and pitches up into a mewling. That man was devouring each inch. And soon started prodding hjs rear entrance with his tongue. Angel shudders, legs giving a small start in the grasp before his hips wiggle a little for more despite the overwhelming nature. Greedy, needy, and completely infatuated.

“Fuck! Val—!” His claws sink into the ground a cry making a clear sound of his absolute crumbling under the pleasure. Control surrendered completely despite it all. He would be rendered useless. No matter. He would for sure be able to help clean off his boss when the time comes. Either via tongue or doting on him with the sweet soaps of his.

[a-hazbin-spider]

As it so happens, Angel does recall this, hence why he had made his assumption with a bit of finality. Suppose it never did hurt to have well wishes for the other, but it wasn’t like hopes did anything for the other party. No, all they do is hold a space for someone even with empty hands. No real aid, only an acknowledgement that Angel had thought of the other. And really, what is it good for if he didn’t have anything to offer? Exactly.

“Yeh, I thought so! Don’t mean we might not get lucky every once in a while. But, I r’member y’told me that. B’fore puttin’ on a lil music.” One palm gestured into the air, a vague nod to the tune jaunting around them. Just in case, he holds his tongue about the reason behind that visit, or the fact there was a visit at all. He’d hate to wake Alastor up via making his heart drop.

Putting that aside the pan for the eggs were already smelling delectable. Had he been any less lucid, he might show for the fact his mouth was watering. Not totally unresponsive though, a little sniff lends an appreciative hum. It’d been quite some time since he’d been allowed a treat like this. Only thing catching him off guard being the noise of an eggshell. Angel can’t say he’s any better, if he is without company, many things go into his mouth. Can’t say the sandiness of eggshell hadn’t been one. Not something he’d do often, he’d rather use it for something else, or grind it down. Definitely didn’t like how it crunched much as the stag did that’s for sure. Still, Most things that don’t go into a dish can and will be used by him or his pig.

That thought about the eggshells or the phantom feeling of the crunch on his senses gets swiped when he’s asked about his own predicament. He almost defensively asked Alastor to admit his own first. Instead, he gives half a shrug, only hesitating a moment before being oddly cooperative. Surprised even himself on that front. “Well, it ain’t the room. Probably tha best place I’ve ever had. But, you could say I have trouble settlin in and gettin’ comfortable sometimes.”

It is a little odd to leave the proverbial door ajar like that. Much like dipping one’s foot into a body of water, despite not being a full plunge, it is still being exposed. How much did Alastor really want to hear about any hallucinations, nightmares, or pains? It’s hard to say he’d want to talk about tweaking enough to break his mirror, or that his own clothes on his skin felt painful enough some nights. His body was always working against him. That traitor,

“You kiddin’? I don’t think I could show my face round here ever again..!” Truthfully, the thought of messing up something like that? He might have to double die for a while, skip town. All that good stuff. No sense in what if’s though, as it stands, they’re cooking with gas so to speak!

Alastor had even been so kind to start up some tunes for them, somewhat nostalgic in a way, especially how the sound fizzles to life. And how he can hear it while they cook. Just little things that add to what could arguably once have been better for him.

When a mug of coffee is brought his way, he very visibly perks up. Not exactly having gotten sleep, Alastor would be correct, but he’d be lying to say he’d give this up for what might be an hour or two of time to attempt before inevitably he’d be pulled into something or another. Coffee would do him far more wonders. Sure he’d take his coffee just about any way, use milk to cool it, add a sugar every now and then- truthfully he’s more likely to just crunch on a cube or a packet raw and down a cup. But he’ll spare this poor bastard the ungodly behavior, instead just give his thanks and start on the work to be done.

“Nah, what a good guess! Must be psychic.” He shares the statement with a bit of humor, carefully retrieving the mug from the hands that’d offered. He had to wonder briefly if he had any lasting marks or super visible indicators, but rather than ask, he’d gratefully accept the offer. Even the smell on him again offered a bit of solace. And taking it plain does sort of add a little more to a time he’d been allowed time in a nice kitchen like this one. Not exactly superstitious but maybe a little stitious, ease the rust that might’ve gathered just a bit. None that appears to hinder him at least. Preparing the steak made no trouble, even his hands at a shaky state could probably handle this!

“You prolly had similar luck, eh?”