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darcydarlingdabbles · 4 months ago

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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.

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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.

#Honestly #I get it now #that was hot af #Radiohusk #alastor #husker #Alastor x husk #husk x alastor #smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor hazbin #husk #rare ship #top alastor #bottom husk

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flywolfwriting · 3 months ago

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Beyond the Path of Reason

The worst part about molting was the itching. It was terrible while his wings were out, but when they were tucked away the itching spread to his skin, like the molt needed to manifest itself physically in one way or another. Lucifer often left his molt until he couldn’t bear it anymore, too overwhelmed by the task to force himself to face it until the alternative was worse.

The truth was he hated looking at his wings. They were a constant reminder of heaven, of his fall; once pure white, they were now stained with the blood of the first sinner. He still remembered that day clearly, when some of his elder siblings had come to fetch him and Lucer thought he’d been forgiven, that he could come home - but instead they pinned him to the ground and soaked him in Abel’s blood and the stains had never truly come out. That first molt he thought he would finally be rid of it but he was wrong - some of his white plumage returned, but only along the lesser coverts, and the tenth primaries. The rest of his feathers grew in that brilliant, terrible red, as vivid as the day he’d seen it spilled upon the ground.

For a long time Lilith was there to help him, and he could just squeeze his eyes shut while she preened for him. The last couple centuries, however - since Charlie had been born - he’d been left on his own. He’d eventually gotten used to looking at them, of course; how couldn’t he when he’d lived so long? He’d even mastered pretending it was fine and his wings didn’t bother him one bit! He could even show them off; See? Look and big and awe-inspiring my wings are!

But that’s all they were. Tools. And later, when he was alone, Lucifer would close his eyes and try to forget the image of Abel sprawled across the ground, head smashed in, until the Angels of God used his blood to tarnish the Morning Star’s plumage.

God’s favored indeed.

Now he was living at the hotel, surrounded by sinners he could call friends, with his daughter and her own fallen angel at her side. He could almost forget how much he hated himself with them around.

Almost.

Lucifer’s quarters were big; bigger than they had any right to be, really, but he didn’t need to leave them for anything if he didn’t need to. He had a large, luxurious bathroom, a large sitting room, a small kitchen, and of course an opulent bedroom that served more as a workroom than actual sleeping quarters.

That was where he was now, having told his daughter he would be gone for a few days working on ‘business’ but would be back by next week. She’d given him a timid smile and soft, “Okay,” and he knew she wondered if he would be back at all.

It was a crushing reminder of just how awful a person he was.

He heard a swell of laughter in the distance and peeked out his window to see the hotel’s residents descending the hill as a group, heading into town for one thing or another.

Lucifer scratched at his shoulder as he watched them go. He could probably afford to pop down to the bar and snag a bottle of something to help take the edge off when he finally got around to getting his wings out. Not that sinners’ alcohol really did much for him.

Mistake.

Alastor stood by the bar, hands propped on his newly repaired microphone, silently watching as Lucifer stepped through the portal. Lucifer froze, briefly considering turning around and facing the week without the solace of alcohol. He couldn’t be seen to be fleeing the Radio Demon, though, no matter how much his skin itched, so he straightened his shoulders and marched behind the bar without acknowledging the sinner.

It seemed for several blissful minutes that Alastor would offer him the same courtesy, even if he was openly staring at Lucifer. That hope was dashed when, holding several bottles of hard liquor, Lucifer returned to his still-open portal. Before he could step through that oh-so-pompous voice said, “My, my, Your Majesty, you have quite the selection there. Planning on throwing a party?”

Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait- Lucifer turned and glared at him. “If I was, I wouldn’t be inviting you.”

Alastor’s grin widened by a fraction. “And who would you invite, sire? Not your daughter, clearly. I wonder how she would feel, knowing you waited until everyone left to have your friends over.”

“You little shit,” Lucifer said.

“The alternative is all those bottles are for you. But wait! Didn’t you tell our dear Charlie you would be away on business?” Red eyes narrowed. “If it turned out that business was drinking half the bar, that would be quite pathetic, don’t you agree?”

Lucifer grit his teeth, resisting the urge to snap back. He had too much on his mind, was too twisted up in his own anxiety and depression to worry about an asshole sinner. He turned away.

“Oh dear. You appear to be bleeding.”

Lucifer stopped again, this time looking at the demon in confusion. “What?”

Alastor’s brows rose as his head cocked to the side. “Your neck is bleeding. And it appears some sort of beast has been at your arms.”

Looking down Lucifer saw inflamed golden scratches criss-crossing his forearms, and something warm dripped down his spine. He swore quietly. He hadn’t realized he’d been scratching so much.

“You appear to be in distress, Your Highness.”

“What do you care?” Lucifer snapped, nearly dropping several bottles as he shifted in an attempt to stop himself digging his nails into his arms again. The pressure in his back grew worse with his agitation, his wings insistently pushing against the ether in which they were currently trapped.

“Perhaps I am merely curious what could cause someone of your status such concern,” Alastor said airily, “especially if you’re willing to lie to sweet Charlie to hide away so pitifully.”

“Leave Charlie out of th- ah!” Lucifer’s words broke off in a choked cry as his wings exploded from his back, somehow relieving the pressure and worsening everything all at once.

Oh. Oh no. He had let it go too long; it was the worst he could remember it ever being, a feeling like a million spiders skittering over every part of him, digging their little pincers into his skin, burrowing in his feathers-

He shuddered, biting back a whine.

“Oh dear,” Alastor hummed, and when Lucifer forced himself to open his eyes again he found the demon staring at his wings with clear interest. “You are a mess.”

Continue on AO3

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re-bon-bon-san · 6 months ago

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Vox in Hazbin Hotel RadioStatic AU

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Vox was frustrated. Extremely sexually frustrated.

Oh, who was he kidding. His feelings for Alastor ran much deeper than simply having the hots for him. But after ignoring it for so long and losing their friendship it had simply become too much.

And what better idea to fix your fucked up rivalry than by joining the Hazbin Hotel!?

What could go wrong?

Chapter 1 Welcome back (pesky feelings)

On the night when Vox had found out that Alastor had come back, he had laid in bed sideways, firmly hugging his blanket and fully awake, as strange realizations hit him. Val was at some sort of impromptu party. Probably banging the first guy he saw, he was sure. Not like Vox ever forbade him from doing that or even cared. His relationship with Valentino was strenuous most of the time anyway, making it open ended, which was making it easier. Especially because neither of them seemed in a hurry to commit. Certainly not when their entire business and integrity as overlords was on the line. But sometimes Vox regretted having met him. The constant arguments were getting on his nerves, Val’s tantrums and violent outbursts were only sometimes funny. Which was really strange, because Vox would say he was a pretty contained and in control man… But ever since the Radio Demon came back he had started acting exactly like Valentino did on a normal day. A volatile, hateful, violent man. And while it was probably true, he hadn’t gotten that heated since the last time he saw Alastor… It was all that man’s fault… he had ridiculed him, acted like there had been nothing between them at all, like it never mattered. Not like he would have acted less insulted being rejected, but he had to hurt his pride too and then run off.

Vox had calmed down, he had lived without him, he was focused more on business and influence and less on fighting. And yet now that Alastor was back and doing radio broadcasts, nothing of that even mattered anymore. It was like he could no longer be proud of his own work if Alastor as much as breathed in his direction. He wanted to prove himself, he wanted his acknowledgement, he wanted Alastor’s downfall! Did he want that? … That guy was an asshole, and yet he had missed him tremendously. All these long years of friendship, thrown out the window after one argument. All those times hanging out, bonding over their ideas and visions… laughing together, all the different restaurants they had visited in hell, all the different tailors. All of that… he wanted all of it… back. Vox laid his face flat on the bed and put the pillow over it, to block everything around him out. A shame it couldn’t block out his neverending, increasingly gayer getting thoughts.

He missed his voice, he missed his shenanigans, his face, his antics, his opinions, his everything, him. Not even the anger of their previous argument could overshadow it. Oh, who was he kidding! It had all always been about him. He had been inspired by him, he had admired him and it was Vox’s arrogance that had ruined it all. Alastor didn’t even have to try and he had still outdone him easily, making Vox cause a huge blackout.

It had no damn business being that hot .

Vox blamed it on having spent so many years with him for growing sentimental. He was still angry and hurt of course. But the way into the Radio Demon’s heart could not be won by those pathetic displays…

Wait… heart?

Vox groaned and gave up on sleep. He stood up groggily, pouring himself some whiskey with ice, as he lit up an LED lamp by simply ordering it to and fished out his phone…

He listened to the Radio Demon’s last broadcast. Cheery jazz music with screams of defeated overlords in the background. Warm nostalgia filled his heart and he took a big sip as he felt the nice burn of liquor make it down to his stomach. Alastor certainly knew how to elegantly demonstrate power. What was it that Vox wanted from him exactly? He couldn’t quite figure it out… If Alastor wasn’t as successful, handsome, charming and powerful Vox wouldn’t even like him! Vox was much more popular and always stayed relevant and yet… in his mind there was no one greater than this enigmatic man. More gulps followed and the Radio Demon’s velvety voice gently commented on his last song selection, having no damn business sounding so seductive.

Vox, of course, had listened to ALL of his broadcasts. Had started as a habit probably that he could not stop, then evolved into an outright addiction and now he did it to find out which new overlord had been sacked. Of course, that was all there was to it… if he felt shivers run down his back at the sound of Alastor’s voice, he paid it no mind.

His thoughts were very confusing… he needed to find out more about Alastor, where he had been for 7 years, what his plans were and whether he would be a threat to his further operations. How he could provoke him, engage with him, give him all of his attention- Yes, the radio broadcasts were helping to get him back into his old mindset when it was all fine again, the added relaxation and melancholic fondness he felt were only caused by the music, surely.

How long had they been friends, before it had suddenly all ended one awful day? 40 years? 50 years?

And Alastor wanted nothing to do with him, like it had all been nothing? He disappeared, making him worry his head off… Wondering if he was still alive, if it was his fault. Wanting to scream at him, wanting him back and to stay gone at the same time.

One thing was for sure, something had ignited in Vox the moment they started arguing. Something that had been buried deep and finally came out and had been festering, eating at him all these years. Why did it feel so good to be angry at Alastor? Why did he want to kick his ass and have the good old times back at the same time? His feelings and pride were hurt and yet there was angry heat in his chest, it was hard to breathe and his thoughts had been all occupied with him. And yet he felt relief.

Satan, how had he even survived these 7 years. Just barely, throwing himself into his work like a madman and having lots of distractions and connections on the side. Clearly… worth not as much, if now that Alastor was back it all seemed meaningless to him.

He finished his glass, unceremoniously pouring another one and scrolling on his phone.

Ah, there it was.

The only picture Alastor ever let another soul take of him. The only undistorted photo evidence of the man’s appearance. Vox should have been saddened by the photo of them posing together for this picture, but he could only smile. His fingers were slowly fondling his phone, moving over the picture as he took in the sight of the old photograph. Grayscale… but the day was ingrained in his memory.

More sips, more songs… he could almost picture it… sitting in Alastor’s studio like he had done before, seeing him work and in the evening they went to have dinner together. If Vox closed his eyes and just… yes, he picked the right moment, his voice came back to comment on another song and tell a short anecdote of his life… Vox felt so nice and warm, seeing Alastor in front of his inner eye, looking at him with his deep red shimmering eyes, whispering into his microphone.

And he tore his eyes wide open when he felt blood rush to his loins more quickly than he could stop himself. His first instinct was panic, the second was to blame it on the alcohol. And yet… he wanted more. He stared, open mouthed at Alastor’s picture, drinking in his sight, feeling way too hot and clouded. Oh, he felt so pathetic, but what he would GIVE to have the Radio Demon back. He was aching, pining... the heartache of the years catching up to him and his need grew even more persistent. “Fuck…”, Vox swallowed again, just like when Alastor had threatened him over the radio. He knew what Alastor did to his enemies… but couldn’t Alastor destroy him in … another way?

For the second time this evening Vox had given up on everything. His emotions were too confusing, he was too worked up and losing control. He was rock hard in his pants and Alastor’s broadcast, paired with his picture and the looming memories of him were quickly disarming him completely. Oh, he was SO glad Valentino was at a party, he didn’t need his judgment. Who the fuck needed Valentino when the Radio Demon existed? Vox bit his lip with a soft moan as he slipped a hand into his pants and pulled his member out of his pajama bottoms.

Just a quick, fucking wank and then he surely would have it out of his system… surely…

Like Alastor had been ‘out of his system’ after 7 years of absence.

He had enough sense to tell his smart lock to activate, he usually left his penthouse unlocked for Velvette or Valentino, but ooooh. Not tonight.

He quickly became breathless, panting softly as held the phone in one hand, listening to the voice vibrating through the device as his other hand glid over his dick.

He activated the phone’s bluetooth, to listen to the broadcast directly in his brain, almost as if Alastor was speaking directly into his ear.

He shivered, twitching hard in his own hand, looking over Alastor’s curves, the shapes of his arms, and legs, how his suit was made, his face, his soft fluffy ears.

He wanted to know how it all looked underneath, he knew how Alastor died and how scarred he was, yet it fascinated him. He wanted to run his hands over every scar, kiss and lick them. He wanted to feel his body against his, take him.

Oh, Alastor was a virgin, he was probably super tight and would whimper so sweetly. Precome gathered at Vox’s member as he jerked himself harder. He wanted to defeat Alastor, overpower him. He wanted Alastor to beg for forgiveness, beg for their friendship back, he wanted to tug on his antlers….

Who was he kidding? As if Alastor would ever sleep with him. Vox’s only chance was to try to be his friend again.

If Alastor would at least hug him, hold him just once. Tell him how much he treasured all their years together.

Vox whined loudly and jizzed all over himself, squirming on the sofa, gaping like a fish out of water as his orgasm shook him to his very core.

He was lightheaded, he felt higher than on drugs, completely intoxicated. He cleaned himself on autopilot, turned off all devices, the lamp, finished his drink and walked, on extremely shaky legs back to bed, falling face first.

His entire body was vibrating, buzzing. It was all warm and tingly and sweet, almost bittersweet. So satisfied, so euphoric. He passed out in a blink, drifting off to sleep in a matter of minutes.

Vox really didn’t need the reminder on his phone that he had listened to Alastor’s broadcast before bed…

He had slept heavenly, sure, but that didn’t mean anything. He had a busy day and needed to get started.

As it was, the first thing that greeted him as he went to their shared living space was Valentino lounged all across the gigantic couch, barely dressed. He smelled like alcohol, perfume and sweat to a sickening degree.

“Mnnhhh! Mornin’ Voxyyyy.”, he purred in a groggy voice.

Vox wasn’t sure you were supposed to feel disgust when you saw your boyfriend, but sometimes Valentino clashed a lot with his preferences.

“I see you’ve had a productive evening, Val? Made any business deals?”

“No, hehe. But a couple friends!”, he swung his leg high, placing a heel on Vox’s chest.

Vox flinched and then stared at it, carefully, almost reverently grabbing it and putting it back on the couch. Usually he liked such displays, but there was something about it today that irritated him.

“Val, careful! You could have hit my display.”

“Ohh, hahahaha, what’s a little scratch! You won’t die from it.”

“You know damn well they are expensive and a pain in the ass to replace. I have a fund set aside for stuff you break because it happens way too often.”

Sometimes Vox wondered if Valentino did it on purpose. He knew Valentino liked to break stuff and hurt and kill people, but the more time he spent with him, the more he started considering the possibility Valentino was out for his head. After all, he was rich and successful, betraying him by knowing so much confidential info of him, would be a piece of cake and daily life in hell. Vox had to dodge the things that had been carelessly thrown around by Val in blind rage, Val had a habit of blindly hurting people.

Vox, was an overlord, so he had no place to judge, but the horrifying things that Val did to his employee’s for seemingly little reason left an opening to think it might ever be directed to him. One of the reasons he always made sure to keep a semblance of professional distance between them.

Vox was physically stronger, but he was a bit rusty…

“Aaawwww, babyyy, come on…”, Val wrapped two of his long arms around his leg, whining like a puppy, “Can we have some morning fun, mhhh? I am still a little sore, but one more time should be fine.”

“Ah… that’s why you wanted me to come along? So I could watch…”, Vox sighed and shook his head.

“I never said you can’t join in, ehehehe. But maybe better not. His dick was bigger than yours.”

Why was he dating this man again? Ah, right. Money and power … similar goals and branch and because Val was sexy and charismatic. But that was like the minimum requirement to catch Vox’s interest.

“Cool. Take a shower, Val. And no tequila before breakfast! I am gonna be in a meeting soon.”, Vox shook him off and walked out.

So Vox had wanked off to his arch nemesis last night, there was NOTHING to panic over. That was totally normal. No, it would be STRANGE if that didn’t happen considering he’d known the goddamn Radio Demon for 70 years by now. No, they haven’t been friends for decades, but if you knew someone that long you’d either kill them or marry them. And if you wanted to do both at once, you have quite the problem. (He’d known Valentino for 50 years and his feelings for him weren’t nearly as intense, although he was A LOT easier to get along with.)

Noooo, no he wasn’t imagining their marriage. No, he wasn’t sitting in the meeting, daydreaming about kissing Alastor and going on dates. Oh, he had been Alastor’s fanboy and friend for ages, been obsessed with him. But for the first time in his life he purely craved Alastor’s affections, be it platonic or romantic. All, because he was back and the butterflies in his stomach were festering, like an unholy parasite.

He had been dreaming of defeating, hurting, even killing Alastor for 7 years… How did things suddenly change that drastically!? He saw him when he came back and that was it… and now he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Had he secretly thought all these compromising things about him in secret and now that he was back Vox could no longer hold back his true feelings? And his anger issues came from the abandonment and he didn’t actually want him dead? “Mr. Vox? Mr. Vox, are you listening?” “Oh, I am sorry… I had a long night. Can you repeat your last sentence?”, he put on his polite customer service voice.

When Vox was back from the meeting a couple hours later, Val… seemed in a very strange mood. Namely he threw Vox against the wall and started aggressively making out with him. The TV demon played along for a while and then pushed him aside, lifting a brow. “Don’t tell me, you are still drunk? … Don’t you have like… work to do?” Valentino slowly sunk to his knees, looking up at Vox like an excited, very lewd puppy. “We could squeeze in a quickie. I am still hungover though, open your pants.” “Booooooooooooys I brooought food. Bahahahahahaha, are you gonna bang in the living room again, with everyone seeing!?”

Vox shook his head, heading over to Velvette to see what she had gotten. “He is running from his responsibilities again, is what he is doing…” “VOOOOOOOXY, COME OOOOON. I will be good, comeeeee on. I didn’t mean it with the dick comment. It sure is nice, but he was not dating material.” “I am not jealous, Tino, we already established we are okay with it.” The moth demon stood slowly up again, towering over them, furrowing his thin brows and crossing his arms. “Yeeeeaaah? Why are you angry at me still?” “Because you’re annoying…”, Vox threw him a yogurt package, that ended up right in the middle of the moth’s face, made him stumble and fall backwards onto the couch, “Oh shit, I am sorry.”

He wasn’t.

Vox already read the first article about himself and the power outage, subsequently realizing how much attention he had generated for the Radio Demon. Well, even if he had kind of failed the showdown, bad publicity was still publicity. This was the best way to get Alastor’s attention. And damn if he didn’t enjoy it. But he wanted more, he needed all of it… If he wasn’t careful, he might fuck everything up. Alastor was right on one thing. He wasn’t nearly as physically powerful and independent as Alastor. How did he do it? Where would he learn it?

Sir Pentious failed his task to infiltrate their quarters… well, to be expected of someone as unremarkable as him. Hmmm, what if he skipped the middle man and went there himself? (No one could be trusted to be loyal in hell after all.)

Of course, to spy on Alastor and find out all his secrets and conquer him.

Not seduce him, no, not at all.

After all, how dare Alastor turn all of his attention to some sanctimonious brats and barely even focus on radio broadcasts? Except, if he found something with much more potential in the long run. Something worth exploiting. Vox definitely had to see that. Or did he? Would he really dare do that? Possibly ruin his reputation to get back at his archenemy/friend/crush (whatever)? Absolutely. Everything be damned, this was the opportunity of his life. He just wasn’t sure if he could actually do it. It was such a big step, so risky, so different to what he usually did. And there was no guarantee it would all work. He had to prepare carefully for the operation and explain it to his allies.

Damn that Louisiana yerk.

Vox had thought he had successfully survived the second day of going crazy over Alastor, as he stepped into his penthouse, completely drained from the day’s activities. He didn’t expect to be turned, tripped up to fall against the bed and then pinned down. Val was peering hungrily at him with a wide mouthed grin. “Baaaaabyyyy!”, he leered at him, “I gotchu a present!” “For fucks sake, Valentino. Can you not do that like normal people?” “No. Ehe…”, the moth demon gently lifted himself off the bed and reached down into a bag to retrieve a little box, “I remember you wanted to buy one of those new models, but weren’t sure which one. I gave them your technical specifications and they got the best one!” Ah, one of the gadgets Vox wanted to get, but forgot due to the excitement of the last days. He grinned at how observant Valentino was and through how much trouble he had gone to get it. “Awww… really? For me? I gotta test if that’s some good shit.”

“I am not dumb. I checked!” “Are you?”, Vox chuckled, opening the box and staring curiously at it, then putting it on the floor, “Anyway who cares.” Valentino was about to get offended, but Vox simply pulled him into his arms, giving him a little kiss: “Thaaaank you so much.” “Oh yeah, you better thank me.”, Valentino climbed further into the bed, following with more kisses, expecting to be coddled up real soon.

It wasn’t all bad, otherwise Vox would have stopped trying quickly. But he had his doubts. Sometimes he didn’t even want to call Valentino his boyfriend but his ‘forced acquaintance’ , even ‘his job’ . Great. If something ever happened to Vox, he wasn’t sure Valentino would even bat an eye, except for all the stress of running the company. …

But sometimes Vox just ignored that feeling. … It was nice to feel wanted. To have someone to hold and tell your problems to. Even if he and Valentino… seemed to just be biding their time, using favors. If they both were aware of it, it didn’t matter, right?

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mothballmilkshake · 2 months ago

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Who's Afraid Of the Shadows?

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

#hazbin alastor #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #mothball fics #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #radioapple #appleradio #duckiedeer #smut #top alastor #bottom lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #topalweek

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hasbeenhellwolf · 9 months ago

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#hazbin hotel fanfiction #radioapple #my fanfiction #adamsapple #bottom lucifer #alastor x lucifer #top alastor #alpha adam #omega lucifer

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wattemeer · 5 months ago

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#guys... you all know me you know my heart......#i have to make soft alastor #radioapple #appleradio #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #my art #nothing cuter than a snake in top hat

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caelustar · 2 months ago

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

#radioapple #top alastor #topalweek #top alastor week #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #alastor #my art

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paintresspink · 2 months ago

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day 4 of topalweek! little spoon-big spoon. And yet it is just Alastor smothering Lucfer as they sleep lol

#artists on tumblr #hazbinhotel #small artist #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor #radioapple #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel alastor #appleradio #alastor and lucifer #topalweek #top alastor #top alastor week 2024

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lucifer-imaginaryfriend · 2 months ago

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Top Alastot week Day 6: Nun RP

Link to full picture here

#top alastor week #topalweek #top alastor #nun #nun alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin art #hazbin hotel fanart #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel drawing #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanart #hazbin alastor #alastor art #pencil drawing

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roseshewrites · 2 months ago

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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.

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