#Top Alastor

[cupidkyu]

! ALASTOR IN RUT.

sub!reader,gn!reader(as possible),dom!alastor,sub!reader,bunny!reader , mention of blood,praise kink for reader if u kinda squint, alastor is rough in this but he praises u,alastor in rut,alastor owns your soul,dacryphilia if u kinda squint!!!, nicknames (ex.dear, darling),prbly have grammar mistakes, really short+ending lets you imagine the rest,straight to p0rn LMAOO

a/n : help I tried to make this gn reader as possible

MDNI

you were in the hazbin hotel,in your room, doing the paperwork charlie asked you to help with,of course,your 'owner' would check up on you frequently!

this time,he was more late than usual.

realization then kicked you hard,,

he's in a rut

suddenly,you hear a knock on your door,you place your pen on the table and get up from your desk, walking over to the door,,you place your hand on the doorknob and slightly open the door,just enough to peak through.

"why hello,my dearest!" alastor said,his eyebrows furrowed,he looked quite.. distressed? his hair was messier than usual and his ears were twitching, somehow still plastering a huge grin on his face,,

"mind opening the door for me?" he asked, tilting his head,"right-.." you murmured, opening the door like the good pet you are for him. he pushed you aside to get in,his back facing towards the door,,

"lock the door."

♡

,,your face was pressed against the pillow,,sobbing and moaning into it uncontrollably, gosh your noises just made alastor rougher-

"hah—..~ taking me so well,my dear..~ fuck- ah..always so good for me,hm?" he grunted, thrusting inside you, leaning down to leave hickeys on your neck,"always taking me no matter what— ..even if it's for my own pleasure-..~" ,, his praises just made you whimper more,you always get excited when he praises you,you can't help it! ,your fluffy tail just keeps wagging whenever he does,,

pushing inside you,his clawed fingers against your soft skin, drawing blood while you cry so pathetically, gripping onto the sheets,, your tears staining the pillow.

how many rounds has it been? you've lost count,you only know you're filled to the brim, you're absolutely shattered.

"my darling bunny..you feel so good around my cock..~", he said,,he was so animalistic in this state,so rough,but such gentle words,, you're whimpering so helplessly against the sheets,

it's gonna be a long night.

[caelustar]

Day 3 for Top Alastor Week!

First kiss ~

I did both black and white and with colors because I couldn’t choose 😂 also I was too lazy to draw clothes, sorry-

I’m very proud of this drawing!

[lucifer-imaginaryfriend]

Top Alastor week: Leading the Dance/chains

Cupid and Eros Raddioapple Au(?)💘

Full drawing below the cut

So this was supposed to be a simple drawing- but then I got curious and wanted to try putting Lucifer in attire similar to cupid- which led me to go down a rabbit hole of things about Cupid and Eros and the similarities and differences between the two.

Not sure if I would make this an official au but I do have some headcanons and ideas for them that I might go into detail about in the future -3-)

Also, a version of them kinda like in the sky (because of the wings) and no background

[home-for-wayward-fawns]

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒮𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒢𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈

For those not aware, there is an event at the moment raising money for the Lilith Foundation. Anyone interested, please find more information here: https://www.tumblr.com/hellsgreatestevents/777310293710848000/hello-sinners-winners-and-everyone-in-between?source=share

When Alastor was a boy, he became obsessed with the broken glass of a church window.

These days, he's obsessed with something new...

TW/CW: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rough Sex, Branding, Dubious Consent, Degradation, Humiliation, Licking Blood

Deep in the swamps of Louisiana, a small abandoned church stood under a large willow tree. 

An old, decrepit building that had barely stood the test of time. Some of the locals had whispered that it was from before the Declaration of Independence, built by the British to enforce the Church of England’s regime. By the time he had been a boy, it was no more than a playground for naughty children with nothing better to do. 

He had always been warned to stay far away from it, that a fallen church was the breeding ground for demons and devils, and yet, like all the other young ones, he had felt the pull that emanated from it. It was not the rumours of ghosts or devils that attracted him though. 

No, it was the broken rose window that called to him. 

A huge glass disc embedded above the door, and when the moon hit it just right, light shone through it and lit up the broken down entrance to the building. It was a powerful feeling to stand beneath it, as if God himself was trying to come home but was unable to. He could recall easily the obsession he’d had with that broken glass, the crack that had spread out as if trying to silence the Lord above. 

It was the start of something feral within him, this fascination with broken beauty. It was that fascination that had perhaps dragged him down to where he often found himself in the present. 

A little boy’s obsession with broken glass had transformed into a grown man’s obsession with broken bones, but that was a long time ago. Hell had so many far more interesting beautiful things to break. The Bible claimed Earth to be beautiful and Hell to be ugly, but he had to disagree. 

How could there be anything more beautiful than you? 

Once, Alastor might have compared you to the prettiest of preys but that felt horrendously inadequate a description. He had been quite the celebrated hunter in his life, be it deer or the lowest of mankind, but something he had learned is that prey always tried to run. You never had. 

It was quickly becoming his favourite game, a whole new obsession, to try to make you run. No matter how cruel, how dismissive he was; you never did. If he were a kinder man, he might try to get to the bottom of that little psychological problem but he did not feel so inclined. He liked that you didn’t run. 

What was Hell if not the land of no consequences? Why shouldn’t he take advantage of the sacrifice you had made of yourself? 

Your small whimpers were like music to his ears as she swung in the air. You had been more than happy to oblige when he’d requested playing a game to stave off his boredom. It was as simple as that, a request to entertain him and you were never one to deny him a thing. 

A thick rope lowered from the branch of a gnarled willow tree in his bayou and attached to which was you! Your hands were bound to the back of your head whilst your legs were spread in a lewd manner, knees bent so your feet had no choice but to rest above your plump ass. 

The white cloth that adorned your flesh, covering your more intimate parts had been a gift from him. You had been overjoyed, but it was not for you to know that it was more for his perverse entertainment. After all, what kind of sacrifice was not dressed in white? 

“I’ve always found broken things interesting.” He mused to himself, humming as he trailed a claw down the line of your spine. He felt his grin stretch across his face when you shivered beneath him. “Perhaps that’s why I like you so much, my dear.” 

He could feel it as you relaxed beneath him, his praise washing over you like a balm. You were such a silly thing, but he couldn’t deny the entertainment you brought him. Your scent mingled with the aggressive aroma of his home and it brought a comfort he couldn’t quite describe. It was as if everything was right with the world when you were here, his strung up little pet in his home. 

It was very tempting to just keep you strung up here for his viewing pleasure only…

“I’m not broken.” You tried to argue weakly and he laughed. 

“Oh? No?” He mused playfully, tugging at the main rope hanging from the tree. He laughed as you started to swing back and forth, squeaking as you did so. “Hm, I’m not convinced. Why else would you put yourself through such torments for my own amusement?” 

You didn’t have an answer, of course, not that he expected one. 

He put pressure on his claw, tearing through the white fabric as he dragged down, watching as it fell from your body to reveal your naked back. He spread out his hand across your soft skin, so different to his own rugged scarred back. 

“Alastor.” You whined, shifting your body to the best of your abilities within your tight binds. 

“Mm, what was it you said?” He mused, tapping his chin with the index finger of his free hand. “Ah yes, anything I want. You really should be more careful with your words, ma chère.” 

He pressed down harder, drawing a red line down your spine. Not yet enough to cut but enough to pull a hiss from your lips. Your back arched, whether from the shivers that ran down your spine or from pleasure he did not know, and he had not yet deciphered whether he cared. You were quite perplexing like that. 

Did he care about you? He did not know. He didn’t want to share you; he knew that much. He found himself growing more and more possessive of your time, monopolising it for himself. Where before he had found himself enjoying ordering you around in public, demeaning you in front of others; he now found it loathsome whenever other eyes were on you. As if they were intruding on something sacred between the two of you. 

“Hm, I think I’d quite like to cut you.” He said nonchalantly, as if he’d informed you what restaurant he fancied visiting that evening. “What do you think?” 

He could practically hear the gears turning in your head. You would say yes, it was just a matter of waiting. Of course, there was nothing you could do to stop him if he wanted to slice through you like ribbons, but there was something so delicious about your equal participation in these activities. He might have been the predator in this little arrangement but you were just as much to blame as he was. 

He only ever asked. You were the one who always said yes. 

“Whatever you want, Alastor.” You finally responded after a beat. 

“Good pet.” He praised, turning his body so he could pat the top of your head. “That’s why you’re my favourite.” 

He chuckled as you gasped, more than aware exactly how to play you to get what he wanted. You would be the perfect little puppet for his amusement as long as you were praised for good behaviour, or what he deemed to be good behaviour anyway. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, a reverence to your tone that brought his mind back to that dilapidated church back in his home town. He wondered if it was still standing or if those old ghosts had finally brought it to its knees. 

You’d look so pretty on your knees…

He moved what was left of the white fabric across your back so it fell down the sides before he came to stand behind you. He gripped your hips, pulling you backwards and laughing when you squeaked in shock. 

“Don’t get too excited, pet.” He chastised. “You have to be very good before you get that reward.” 

Alas, you were like so many others in Hell. So easily manipulated and motivated with sexual pleasure, though you were certainly less pushy than others. 

“I’ll be good.” You promised and he hummed in response. 

He pressed the pads of his fingers into your skin, stretching it like preparing a canvas. Your skin was soft like silk, the perfect plain canvas for any design he might fancy cutting into you…

“Do I own you?” He asked suddenly, fingers still pressed against your back. 

“Erm…” You responded, clearly shocked by his sudden question. 

“I call you my pet; you do my bidding, so, I ask you again: do I own you?” 

He waited for a moment, allowing you to digest his words. He wished he could see the way you were no doubt digging your teeth into your bottom lip, chewing on it anxiously as you tried to work out the right answer. 

“Yes.” You finally answered, almost sounding resigned. “I suppose you do.” 

“Wonderful!” He said cheerfully, paying no mind to your anxiety over the realisation before he dug his claw down in a sharp diagonal line across the bottom half of your back. He felt a shiver down his own back when you let out a scream from the sudden cut. “Your screams are beautiful, my pet.” 

You started to pant as he stopped, giving you a moment’s reprieve, before he placed his claw at the top of the first cut and dragged it diagonally the other way. You barely noticed when he stopped to cut a small line across the middle of both his first cuts. 

“Alastor, Alastor, wait!” She cried out, pulling against the binds. 

He listened to your pleas, a sadistic smile across his face as he leaned down to the blood that was starting to bubble to the surface. He groaned, your taste sending his nerves on fire. You were always so delicious, every single time—without fail. 

“We can take as long as you need, my dear. I’ve cleared my schedule for you.” He chuckled darkly. “Though, you’ve still got six letters to go.” 

So many needed sex to derive pleasure, but they must’ve been fools, no amount of attention to his groin could ever match for the sick joy he got when you snapped your head back to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“Letters?” You repeated shakily. 

Oh yes. That hit the spot. 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” He asked, making no effort to hide his sadistic grin. “I’m simply claiming my property.” 

You shivered deliciously beneath him before nodding your head. There was a look in your eye, a spark, and he couldn’t quite decipher it. Was it fear? Excitement? He couldn’t say. It wasn’t rebellion, at the very least. 

The next few letters were far easier on you, eliciting small whimpers as he drew sharp lines into your back. As expected, the circular ‘O’ was the worst; screams were pulled from his throat as you twitched, struggling to stay still. He leaned down to swipe his tongue across the blood that rose to the surface, groaning at your very specific flavour. By the time he’d finally finished, you looked exhausted; completely reliant on the ropes to keep you up but no less compliant to his whims. 

No wonder the gods of old demanded human sacrifice; this was the most beautiful you had ever been. 

He lapped over the letters, giving you a moment to compose yourself whilst he lost himself in your essence. Your voice had grown hoarse from screaming; your back was stained red as was the white cloth that he’d gifted you. You whimpered as his tongue pressed against the incisions, trying to push more of your blood out for his tasting pleasure. 

“Do I own you?” He asked again, looking up with a grin as he faced you. He licked his lips, spreading your blood across them as he savoured the taste. 

“Yes, Alastor.” You whimpered. 

He chuckled, slapping a hand a bit roughly on your backside, making you jump in your binds. “I’m going to quite enjoy this.” He announced, enjoying the shiver of fear and excitement his words caused within you. 

Without warning, he gripped both ropes that were keeping your knees up and suddenly sliced through them with his claws. You cried out in shock as your legs fell, your naked feet digging into the dirt below. Instinctively, he watched as you pressed your thighs together to attempt to achieve some modesty. 

“Oh no, pet. I know that’s not what you want.” He tutted. “You want your reward, don’t you?” 

He watched with glee as you hesitantly spread your legs for him, pushing your hips up as far as you could for him so he could see your stained undergarments. He tutted at you, shaking his head performatively. 

“Dirty, dirty pet.” He scolded, hooking his fingers underneath the waistband. “Only very sick puppies get excited from being branded.” 

“Alastor, please, I was good.” You whined. 

He roughly tugged the undergarments down and found himself actually enjoying the moan it elicited as the humid air suddenly struck your core. He pressed his hands against your ass, spreading his fingers out so he could roughly grab at it, digging his claws in. “Don’t get it twisted, pet. You are not good. You are very bad. You are perverted—disgusting.” He chastised. “What does it say about you that you get excited when a powerful demon carves into your skin and brands you like cattle?” 

You were shaking beneath him but despite his harsh words, your excitement was not dying down—it was amping up. He knew you loved this; you enjoyed the way he would speak down to you as if you truly were no more than a pet for his amusement and this was, after all, a reward. 

It just happened to be one he enjoyed too. 

“Alastor.” You whined, not knowing how to defend yourself. 

He laughed. You truly were his favourite toy. “Luckily for you this is exactly how I like you best. My naughty, perverted, disgusting pet!” 

He pressed two fingers against your core, just out of reach for a moment so you could do nothing but weakly rut back, trying to push them inside of you. He laughed as he watched your futile attempts. It really was quite amusing how desperate you’d get for a little release! 

“Alastor. Alastor.” You panted; his eyebrow raised as he watched you spread your legs further, as if that might help your cause at all. He had to say, he did enjoy when you were so openly desperate and pathetic for him. “I’m your pet. I’m your perverted pet. Please.” 

He thrust his wrist forward suddenly, forcing two fingers inside of you and stretching them apart. You let out a cry, a mixture of pain and pleasure, as you started to rut back on him. Your moans only got louder as he laughed at you, throwing your hips back to the best of your ability to try to force him deeper. He thrust a third finger inside of you, eliciting a pretty little mewling sound from your lips. 

“I like you best like this.” He informed you, twisting the fingers inside of you as you cried out. “Pathetic.” 

You panted, nodding your head as you rode his fingers. “I’ll stay pathetic. I’ll stay pathetic.” You promised. “I’ll be so pathetic.” 

He chuckled and then grinned as he hit something deep inside you, a spot that caused you to twitch. Your eyes went wide as your mouth fell open, gaping like a fish out of water. You threw your hips back suddenly, forcing him to hit it again. 

“I’m so pathetic! Fuck, I’m pathetic!” You cried out. “I’m bad! I’m perverted! I’m whatever you want! Alastor, please!” 

He laughed, amused at your desperate lewd display but granted you mercy, grabbing your hip with his free hand to pull you back while he used the fingers inside you to piston against that spot. You moaned loudly, your eyes rolling back as your tongue lolled out in a ridiculous display of lust—you looked like one of Angel Dust’s posters! 

You twitched and writhed against his fingers, animalistic grunts falling from your lips before you went pliant. He slowly pulled his fingers from inside you, wiping them against the back of your naked thigh. You giggled at the sensation, floating somewhere he could never follow you. He took the moment to inspect his name on your skin, happy to see your volatile movements had not damaged his word. 

“Belle.” He breathed in French, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of his compliment—though at this point, he doubted it would register. 

Whilst you were still on whatever cloud it was you often floated to during these sessions, he unbuckled his belt, letting it fall loose as he worked his pants open. He had no desire to become any more naked than necessary for your rewards. He heard the sharp intake of breath, signalling that you were coming back to him. 

“Please.” You whined. 

He pulled out his cock from his own undergarments, wrapping a hand around it and pumping it in his fist. Luckily, your screams from earlier had been more than enough to get him excited. As precum leaked from his tip, he spread it along his shaft, whilst keeping an eye on you. 

Finally, he gripped the base and pressed his tip against your aching entrance. Using his free hand, he slipped it under your bound arms and gripped your hair roughly, holding your head so you had no choice but to face forward. You whimpered, eager to turn your head, but he could not allow you the satisfaction of seeing him become so dishevelled from your tightness. 

You were pathetic. Not him. 

He bit into his lip as he pushed forward, your tight heat engulfing him in a manner that had one of his eyes twitching as he fought for control. He swallowed the groan that threatened to escape him; his grip on your hair tightened painfully, pulling your head back as he started to move his hips. 

As if you could sense his unease, you started to moan loudly. “Alastor!” You cried out. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck—” 

He chuckled at your cursing, letting your lack of control wash over him like a balm that eased him. His movements were slow at first, thrusting inside of you and leaving you aching for more. You whined pathetically but knew to keep your hips still. 

He gripped your hip tightly, starting to move your body faster. “I get nothing from this.” He growled as your skin slapped together loudly. “This is simply because nothing else keeps you satisfied. You're the pervert.” 

You moaned loudly, nodding your head as his large cock forced it’s way inside you, spreading you wide to accommodate the width. You could barely breathe, let alone respond, so you simply continued to nod your head whilst he held it in place. 

He released your head, happy that he’d regained control, and gripped your other hip roughly. He dug his fingers in, his claws scratching into your skin whilst the pads of his thumbs dug into your skin hard enough to bruise. He knew you liked that too—marks of ownership. 

He used his height advantage to lift you in the air, your feet kicking out as you cried out, shocked at the sudden movements. He bounced you on his cock, enjoying how helpless you were and using it to fuel his thrusts. He could feel you pulsing around him, squeezing him tightly as you moaned helplessly. 

“Next time, we’re going to do this in front of a mirror—so you can see how pathetic you look.” He threatened. 

You spasmed around him, throwing your head back and whining at the threat—something to note down for later. He’d have to use his tentacles so you wouldn’t gain the upper hand over him. He couldn’t have that. 

He became more aggressive as he felt himself growing close, his balls throbbing every time they slapped against his skin loudly. You cried out as he forced himself deeper, as if he was trying to dig out a part of your body that was just for him—maybe he was. 

“Alastor! I can’t—I need—” You cried out, begging for something, though you didn’t know what. 

“You need to be a good pet and take what I give you.” He responded, digging his claws into your hips, forcing you to cry out. 

That did the trick. 

You were suddenly convulsing around him, your entire body going slack against his chest. He released your hip, lifting one hand to slice through the rope in the air easily so your entire body fell against him. Your arms fell lax down by your sides and in an almost affectionate movement, he slowly pulled you from his cock. 

“Alastor…” You murmured, exhausted. 

He chuckled, flipping you around with ease so you could face him before thrusting up into your tight heat with one quick movement, eliciting another pleasured cry from your lips. This was how he liked you best, with your eyes rolled back and your tongue sticking out—when you were lost to the world. 

All you could focus on was him. 

He gripped your wrists roughly, letting you fall back slightly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding on tightly as he used your wrists to give him the necessary leverage to pound into your abused core. 

“What are you, my pathetic little pet?” He teased, holding off his own orgasm to further revel in your depravity—oh, if the sweet princess could see you now! 

“Alastor’s…” You moaned, drawling out every last syllable lazily. 

Oh. Well that was unexpected. 

What was even more unexpected was the thrill it sent down his back, the need to claim and steal and take. He moved suddenly, shoving your back against the tree and started to thrust madly. You screamed as he pulled your hands above your head, pinning them against the tree. 

“That’s right. Alastor’s. You’re branded now, my dear.” He growled. “You’re my property.” 

The bark of the tree was rough against your recently cut back, eliciting further screams from you as he fucked you with a brutal pace. It was almost animalistic, his need to see your insides painted with him. His orgasm was sudden, his hips slamming forward against your own, burying himself to the tilt as thick ropes of cum filled you to the brim. 

You whined, falling forward as he released your wrists. You wrapped your arms around him and he allowed you this brief moment of comfort as he caught his breath, his hands pressed so tight against the tree that his claws cut through them. 

What the fuck was that?

He let out a sharp exhale through his nose before he picked you up and placed you in the dirt on your knees. You let out a confused noise, your face falling against his hip and he chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Come now, pet. You know how this ends.” He tutted. 

You blinked, slowly coming back to yourself before you kissed the head of his cock, slowly wrapping your lips around it as your tongue lapped at the shaft. He allowed you the moment to be lazy, pushing your tongue beneath his shaft as you slowly bobbed your head up and down his length. 

He spread his fingers across your scalp, massing it as you sucked him clean. “Good pet.” He sighed, feeling the tension droop from his shoulders. “You’re doing such a good job. You can have a nice bath after this.” 

You purred around him and it brought a genuine smile to his face. You were good—good for him. He might even add those lotions you liked, since he was in a good mood. He looked down at you, admired that blissed out expression as you obediently cleaned him with no expectation of reward. 

You were so good. 

You were so beautiful. 

You reminded him of that old church, falling apart at the seams. You were not the church, oh no, you were the rose window. You were the shattered glass, his new obsession, and he was never letting you go.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

One Last Round

♠ Hazbin Hotel ♠ RadioHusk ♠ Explicit ♠ 2.8

Husk always says that's the last time, every time the fucking Radio Demon comes to find him long after the bar closes. //I've never written a hate fuck...until now XD //

 ♠┈┈♦┈┈❤┈┈♦┈┈♠ 

Husker gathered up glasses from the now empty bar in the Hazbin Hotel lobby. His nails clinked against the cups in the echoing silence after everyone had gone to bed for the night, and he was just glad there wasn’t more  clean up to do. 

For a bunch of damned souls and the Princess of Hell, the little get together had been surprisingly calm. 

No brawls, no property damage, barely any debauchery—though he could have done with a bit more drinking.

“Should be fuckin’ happy they didn’t trash this place.” Husk muttered, wiping down the sticky remnants of mixed drinks and cocktails from the polished wooden surface. “Or the radio fucker’d  have me up all night scrubbin’.” 

He longed for the comfort of his bed and its nest of pillows, his mind already on sleep…so he didn’t notice the shadows gathering across the bar. 

The soft clink of ice in a glass made his ear twitch. Husk’s hackles rose—praying it wasn’t exactly who he thought it was. 

Alastor perched primly on the last bar stool like he’d been there all damn evening. With the dimmed light glinting off those shark’s teeth of his. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Husk yelped, stumbling back into the shelf and sending glasses rattling like bowling pins. “Don’t do that to an old man, you creepy bastard!”

Alastor just chuckled softly behind that never-slipping smile. 

The cat demon’s hair was still standing on end, but he quickly brushed down his arms. Hiding the evidence. As if Alastor needed anymore cause to dig right under his skin. 

Damn smug Radio Demon. 

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Husk growled. “Party’s over. Go haunt someone else’s nightmares.” 

“Oh, my dear Husker,” his voice purred with amusement, propping his elbow up on the bar and his clawed fingers under his chin. “Is that a confession—you do dream of me?” 

Those red eyes glinted with mischief even in the dimmed light. Husk’s fur bristled and his slashing tail betrayed his agitation. 

“Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself.” He grunted, turning back to drying the glasses, before remembering he hadn’t washed them yet. “Ain’t in the mood for your games, Alastor.” 

The Radio Demon cocked both eyebrows above his smirk. 

“Now, now.” He leaned forward on his stool, his voice taking a sing-song lilt.“You are a bartender, are you not? Fix me a drink, my good fellow.” 

Husk’s ears flatted to his head. Gritting his teeth against the urge to tell Alastor exactly where he could shove his drink. 

“What’ll it be?” He growled out instead. 

The other man’s grin widened impossibly further, leaning over the bar as if he could close the distance that Husk was keeping between them. 

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I like, Husker.” Alastor’s voice dropped to a low, intimate rumble that shivered down the cat demon’s spine like a prickle of electricity. 

His tail stilled before he could stop it, and he silently cursed himself and his boss. 

“Ain’t happening,” Husk said gruffly, refusing to meet Alastor’s knowing gaze as he reached for rye whiskey and a clean glass.

He poured a generous measure, neat, just the way Alastor liked it. His eyes followed the glass sliding across the bar, picked up with an elegant twist of his wrist, and bringing it to his lips. Inadvertently locking with Alastor’s predatory gaze. 

Husk’s ears flattened to his head. 

“What’s the matter, old friend? Not fond of your own taste in drinks?” He raised an eyebrow before taking a delicate sip of the rich amber liquid.

Husk swallowed as Alastor did. 

The Radio Demon let out a low, appreciative hum, his eyes never leaving the cat’s face as he set down his glass. 

“Intensely bitter.” He licked his lips, too damn deliberate to be innocent. “Just the way I like it.” 

Husk shook his head to clear it. He hadn’t had enough to be this damn cloudy. With a huff, he turned his back on Alastor and found anything he could grab to occupy his hands. 

“Stop fuckin’ around,” he muttered to the imaginary stain in the glass he was cleaning. His wings twitched as he felt Alastor’s eyes burning a hole through his back. “Ain’t you got better people to torment?”

The air behind him crackled with static. 

Husk froze, feeling his hair stand in waves—he knew what was coming, but he was powerless to stop it. 

The Radio Demon’s presence leaned down over his shoulder. His hot breath ghosted over Husk’s flicking ears as he spoke in a deep, dangerous tone. 

“Oh, my dear Husker. I assure you, ” Alastor purred and Husk’s spine curled with shivers. “When I begin to…fuck around, as you so eloquently put it…” Husk felt his heart stutter, waiting on the demon’s next word. “You will most certainly know it.”

The feathers of his wings puffed involuntarily as Husk stumbled forward, ignoring the surge of want that rushed through his blood as he turned around. 

“I said it ain’t happenin’.” His gruff voice was weak even in his ears. 

Husk searched frantically along the bar, fumbling with bottles and glasses, anything to keep his hands busy and avoid that burning red gaze. 

But Alastor never was one to give up easy. 

“Yes, of course,” he drawled, his presence looming right over the cat’s shoulder and his warmth tantalizingly close. “Just like every  time it wasn’t happening, hmm?” He chuckled softly. 

Husk felt his tail sway with interest—and hit into the other demon’s legs. 

“Just like every time it didn’t happen. Right, darling?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” Husk snapped back, fighting off the memory of every time Alastor pulled out the honeyed words and sweet names. 

His resolve was crumbling, like it happened, every time. 

Husk opened his mouth to bite out some nasty insults, but the words died in his throat as he felt something terribly, wonderfully familiar. Alastor’s long, slender fingers threading through his fur. 

The demon’s touch was gentle but deliberate, claws drawn perfectly down Husk’s back with practiced ease. 

“What was that, my dear Husker?” Alastor grinned at his ear. 

Husk bit into his lip, desperately trying to stiffle the purr building in his chest, but his back was arching into Alastor’s hands. 

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Husk growled without an ounce of venom. “Y’know exactly what you’re doin’.”

“Of course I do,” Alastor replied, his grin clear in his voice. “I know you better than anyone, old friend.”

Alastor’s fingers continued their ministrations, finding all the spots that made Husk’s resolve crumble. The cat demon’s wings twitched, feathers rustling as pleasure as a soft, rumbling purr escaped his throat. 

This dangerous little habit he’d gotten into. But the high of giving into Alastor was as addictive as booze—a bet he thrilled in losing. 

He should push the bastard off and tell him to fuck off. 

“Dammit,” Husk gritted out. 

Alastor’s ears stood straight up at the sound of the demon’s resolve breaking. His fingers drew up along the cat’s back, pushing the suspenders off his shoulders and letting them fall loose without a scrap of resistance. 

Letting Alastor know he’d won. 

The Radio Demon leaned down, his hand stroking down Husk’s chest and belly as he leaned to his ear, cooing heatedly. “There’s a good kitty.” 

“Fuck—” Husk gasped out as Alastor cut him off with a bite to his sensitive ear. The cat’s body responded in an instant, a wave of arching arousal that nearly burned the rest of the fight out of him.“—you.” 

Alastor simply chuckled, his breath hot against Husk’s neck. 

His long-fingered hand curled around the tent straining at the other demon’s pants, dragging a strangled groan from the old cat. 

“How about one last round for the evening?” Alastor hummed, gripping the nape of Husk’s neck as he palmed his arousal. “You know I will make it worth your while.” 

Husk growled, but nothing in him wanted to resist the wicked treatment Alastor gave. 

“Stop tryna be slick,” he growled as his hips bucked forward. “And get on with it.” 

“Certainly!” Alastor’s grin was impossibly wider as he snapped his fingers. 

Husk grunted as he was shoved forward by the shadow tentacles that had started to pool around his ankles. Suddenly, his bare ass was on the bar top, his pants gone, and his legs spread like a damn invitation. 

The curses died on his tongue as Alastor leaned over him with a predatory grace, dragging his tongue in a hot, wet line down the pink skin of his cock. 

“Slick, did you say?”

“Don’t fuckin’ tease—” Husk’s words dissovled into a choked moan as Alastor took his cock into his mouth. 

The cat’s claws gripped the edge of the bar, leaving grooves in the wood as the other demon worked over his length. He never felt the edge of those teeth—but he certainly felt the slide of that silver tongue. 

“Cocky bastard.” Husk huffed, wriggling against the tendrils that kept him still. Alastor’s laugh vibrated through him, making the cat shudder. 

A slick tentacle materialized between them, sliding up between Husk’s thighs until it found his furled hole. The old man squirmed against the slithering, gasping as he felt the tip press inside and start to stretch him as Alastor continued his ministrations. 

Husk slipped his nails into the demon’s hair, knowing full well he was taking his life into his hands when he pulled at the deer ears. Alastor snarled against him, but never drew his mouth back. 

Even as his claws sank into the shelf behind the bar. 

The tentacle writhed inside Husk—until it hit that spot that put every hair on end as pleasure rocketed through him. His wings flared wide, knocking Alastor’s forgotten whiskey glass across the room. 

A shadow caught it. 

“Careful darling,” Alastor chuckled, taking the glass the tendril brought to his hand. “We wouldn’t want to make a bigger mess for you to clean up, would we?” 

The Radio Demon smirked, licking his lips as he took a casual sip of his whiskey. 

“You’re a real smug son of a—” 

Alastor cut his retort off by dropping his mouth back onto Husk’s cock. Until it and the tentacle were leaving him a gasping, trembling mess on the bar top. Desperate for more than the agonizingly slow stretch. 

“You plannin’ on taking all damn night?” Husk growled, his tail thrashing wildly. 

Alastor’s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as he raised the whiskey glass to his lips. “My, my. Impatient, aren’t we?” He took another leisurely sip, savoring Husk’s growing agitation. “Good things come to those who wait, dear Husker.”

“For fuck’s sake, Al,” Husk muttered, his wings twitching with each movement of the tentacle.

With a flick of the Radio Demon’s wrist, the neon green chain materialized around Husk’s throat, making his yellow eyes go wide. 

Alastor wrapped the links around his fingers, and then yanked Husk forward. 

Their lips crashed together. 

The taste of whiskey flooded Husk’s senses, familiar and intoxicating, making him lean in desperately for more. 

 ♠┈┈♦┈┈❤┈┈♦┈┈♠ 

As their lips parted, Husk panted heavily, his breath mingling with Alastor’s. The Radio Demon’s eyes sparked deviously, and the tentacle within Husk writhed in response.

“Ya gettin’ on off on bein’ a fuckin’ tease?,” Husk accused, his voice hoarse.

“I like it when you’re…feisty” Alastor smirked, his fingers tracing the edges of the chain around Husk’s neck. “And I’d be happy to let you go without, if you’d rather not play my game.” He said, with an air of faux sweetness.

Husk let out a sound of pure irritation, the tentacle still squirming inside him as others held his legs and wings in place. 

He hated the way Alastor could turn him on and then toy with him like this. 

Husk knew he was powerless against Alastor, and his wicked charms. A habit he couldn’t kick. 

The cat let out a frustrated groan, his body tensing as the tentacle brushed his sweet spot once again. He knew Alastor wouldn’t let him come, not yet at least, even as he grabbed desperately for the man’s lapels. 

“I can wait you out, Husker.” Alastor sang to him. 

“Fuck you.” Husk gritted back. 

“You wish.” Alastor intoned as he took another long, luxuriating sip of whiskey. 

Husk hissed, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape. He didn’t want to give Alastor the satisfaction—didn’t want to give in to his game.

But every nerve ending was on fire, and the tentacle inside him was edging into him. As Alastor just sat back, and smiled, and smiled…

And Husk couldn’t take it anymore. 

He grabbed the glowing chain with both hands, and pulled the other demon flush against him. “Fuck me already.” He demanded in a desperate whisper. 

“What was that, old friend?” Alastor taunted, inches from Husk’s nose. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Husk was about to rip his own fur out. He struggled against the shadows holding him, trying to tug the immovable Alastor forward. “Fine! I want ya to fuck me ‘til I can’t see straight. Fuck—please!” 

Alastor’s smile stretched across his face. “With pleasure.” 

The chain vanished, and the Radio Demon’s hand wrapped around Husk’s throat. 

His yellow eyes went wide as his back was pinned against the bar, but he only struggled when he felt the teasing tentacle withdraw—only to let out a low hum as he felt Alastor’s cock slide inside him at last. 

“Fuck…” Husk grabbed at the demon’s wrist, trying to steady himself as the other finally began to move. 

It was slow, deliberate, dragging the bliss from him with every thrust. 

But Husk wanted more. 

“Fuck you and the things you do to me.” He tried to snarl through his husky voice and the hand just holding on to his neck. 

“Always a pleasure,” Alastor chimed, his voice dripping with saccharine charm to Husk’s roiling frustration. “To hear such delightful vulgarity.” 

 Husk could feel his orgasm building, but he knew Alastor wouldn’t let him come yet. Not until he was good and ready.

“Faster,” Husk demanded, his voice strained. 

And he hated the fucking laugh that answered him. 

“Relax Husker,” Alastor purred, “We’re not done yet.”

With a snap of his fingers, Husk found himself face down behind the bar.  Alastor’s cock was back inside him before he could protest the loss. Fucking him hard and fast. 

Husk mewled. And he’d be mortified—if he could give a fuck beyond the feeling of Alastor’s cock hit his sweet spot again and again.

The Radio Demon’s claws and arms were elongate and caging him in, his wings and his legs still bound in shadows, and…ragged, panting breaths were at his ear.

Husk was surrounded. Consumed by Alastor. The sick fuck that owned every inch of him. 

The cat demon cursed the last thought he had before he tumbled over the edge. He let out a low growl, his body shaking as he squeezed around Alastor’s cock. 

Husk collapsed onto the bar, his body spent. 

 There were fingers running through his fur, soothing him as he caught his breath.

Husk lay there, panting heavily, still trembling from the bliss that had just ripped through him. He could feel Alastor’s own release, hot and wet inside him. 

The other’s weight was still on top of him, the radio demon’s chest heaving against his back as he struggled to catch his breath.

Alastor’s fingers were running through Husk’s fur, gently tracing patterns along his spine. It was almost soothing, and Husk found himself relaxing into the touch.

“Don’t get sweet on me now.” 

Husk let out a low growl, too damn tired to flatten his ears to his head—even as his tail curled around the man’s waist from behind. He could feel Alastor’s breath hot against his neck, the Radio Demon’s lips grazing his skin as he spoke.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, old friend.” Alastor chuckled. 

Husk let out a huff of laughter. “Get the fuck off me,” he muttered, but there was no real heat behind the words.

Alastor chuckled, his fingers stilling for a moment before resuming their gentle stroking. “Always so charming, aren’t you?”

Husk rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest as Alastor continued to touch him. He could feel the Radio Demon’s length was still inside him, growing hard again—damn demonic powers. 

And he knew that Alastor wasn’t done with him yet.

 For now, he was content to lie there and let Alastor pet him like a cat. It was almost...nice.

And when Alastor was ready for round two, Husk would be ready to fight him every step of the way. 

[mothballmilkshake]

Who's Afraid Of the Shadows?

An entry for Top Al Week, established RadioApple/Appleradio dynamics

[caelustar]

I made this silly drawing for day 2 of the top Alastor week x)

[lucifer-imaginaryfriend]

Top Alastot week Day 6: Nun RP

Link to full picture here

[diabloku]

"Miss Me?" 💋

Love his new outfit~

[roseshewrites]

~

A Golden Piece Of You (Slowburn Radio Apple)

Chapter 4: Chocolates And Litterboxes

Present

~

Thankfully, his initial headache had disappeared, most of his angst, and a good amount of the cramps had dissipated by the time, a week after all of that, his daughter made her way to his room.

The moment he answered the door and saw the look on her face, all crumpled up like she wanted to cry, he knew what was up.

"Oh, Char, mother nature hit you bad this time too, huh?"

She just nodded, making a pitiful noise.

"Come on in."

Charlie had barely waited for an invitation though, and flopped onto his bed, rolling herself into a burrito.

"Ibuprofen?"

"Please," came her muffled answer.

"Chocolate?"

"Yeees,"  and from the sounds of it she had squirmed  her way up under a pillow or two.

When he'd found the desired items and plopped them next to her, he did so himself and patted her cover-lump of a shoulder, peeking under the pillows saying, "Everybody in here being irritating shits today?"

He got a glimpse of her wide red eyes, filtered with unshed tears.

"You have no idea," she said.

Honestly, Lucifer wasn't having that much difficulty imagining how frustrating it must be to deal with everyone right now. They were all riding the high of just having gotten through another Extermination.

"I have a very good idea," he booped her on the nose, and she sniffed, flapping his hand away. "Ah, ducky! It'll be okay!"

"NoooOo it won't," she sniffed again, "I, yuh-yelled at Vaggiiie."

"She's a tough gal. You know how many times I fought with your mother when we were both on our cycles? And it always-"

It always worked out?

"Ugh! No! Bad example, bad example!"

He hastily patted her blanket-covered form as she retreated fully back into her pillow nest, wailing inconsolably.

Lucifer couldn't do anything at this point but let her cry it out, because no matter how many times he tried to reach her under her fortress of blanket-hood Charlie's sobs just got louder.

Finally, desperately, he said, "Ho-kay, well, I guess I'll just have to eat ALL these ferrero rochet chocolates by myself!!"

With that, settled back onto propped up pillows, he made a gigantic show of unwrapping one of the decadent candies as loudly as he could, grinning when the blanket-Charlie lump sat up and an arm immerged, sneaking a chocolate from the box, crinkling noises coming from within as the chocolate was devoured.

The girl had never been able to resist a good sweet treat.

Lucifer supposed a movie might go over well right about now and was messing with a VoxTech affiliated streaming service on the flat screen opposite his bed when Charlie fully flipped back blankets, scooched over, and laid her head on his shoulder while he perused their options.

He almost tensed up with surprise- almost, but resisted. It had been a long, long time since he and his daughter had sat in comfortable silence like this, and a tiny warble of his own emotion tried to come up in his throat. He cleared it with a slight cough.

It was Charlie, his baby girl. And no matter how old she was, she was always welcome to snuggle up to him like she was ten years old again, the only stress and anxiety on her mind being skinned knees or the loss of a favorite toy.

Ah, what the hell- he gave in entirely, opening his arms so her blonde head was on his chest, her breathing more regular now and kind of sleepy.

"Put on Cinderella," she said. "Please."

"The first one? A Twist In Time is pretty good though."

"I've never seen that!"

They decided on a movie and watched it together, the chocolate wrappers growing into an ever increasing pile on Lucifer's lap. When the movie ended he tweaked at her ear a little bit.

"Charlie. Char."

"Huh! What!" She jerked up, eyes wide.

"You fell asleep," he grinned.

"Did I! Oh shit. Shit!!"

She threw the covers back, scattering chocolate wrappers everywhere.

"Hey, it's all good. Looked like you needed a good nap."

"No, you don't understand!" - she stood up to straighten her wrinkled clothing, redoing her ponytail as she was going on, "I've got to- I've gotta apologize to Vaggie. I've gotta get a litterbox for Gumbo, and new bedding for the room additions. I've gotta-"

"Slow down, kiddo. Hey! Look at me. Look."

She stopped mid sentence, her eyes still wide with anxiety.

"Vaggie is super patient and understanding," Lucifer said. "Especially when it comes to you. Maybe not to others so much. And Alastor can get his own damn litterbox. Or- I can. I'll do it. Don't worry about it, Char, okay? You have more important stuff to do, and I'm here to help," he promised.

"Thanks dad," she gave him a wobbly, stressed-out smile.

"There's my girl. Now go talk to your lady."

"Will do."

She snagged the rest of the chocolates, dashing out of his room, giggling madly when he hollered, "-HEY!!"

- His door slammed shut behind her exit, and he grinned.

That grin faltered a little bit.

He had a feeling he was going to just LOVE finding a litter box big enough to handle Gumbo's monster shits.

[sassy-radio-hazbin-queen]

[wattemeer]

[veramitar]