Obsession . ||A radioapple 📻🍎(Alstor x Lucifer) Imagination.

Chp 2. A new feeling

Alastor’s POV:

Alastor was not one to get flustered easily—his entire existence was a smile and a snappy line—but there was something about Lucifer’s blushing, flustered face yesterday that was messing with him. The image of Lucifer, all red and shy after that first taste of blood, kept playing on repeat in his mind.

This was not normal.

Deciding to shake it off, Alastor slipped on his coat, adjusted his hair to perfection, and made his way down to the entertainment room. As soon as he entered, he was met with the usual chaos of the Hazbin gang.

Charlie was chatting at top speed, animatedly bouncing up and down while Vaggie looked at her with that sugary sweet smile of hers.

Husker was arguing with Angel Dust, who was trying—and failing—to sound reasonable.

“Hey, Smiles! You feeling okay? Ya don’t look like you’re about to keel over, so I guess that’s a win,” Angel called out, taking a break from his debate with Husker to flash a grin.

“Charming, as always, my dear,” Alastor replied with a slight bow, pulling up a chair next to him.

Angel raised a brow. "Okay, what gives? You look... different."

Alastor sipped his coffee. “I assure you, nothing’s amiss.”

Angel narrowed his eyes but shrugged. "Whatever you say, creep."

Before Alastor could fire off another retort, a loud, familiar voice rang out.

“GOOD MORNING, DAD!”

Lucifer stumbled into the room in his infamous duck pajamas—yes, actual duck pajamas. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

Alastor had seen Lucifer in a suit, but nothing beat the sight of the King of Hell looking like he’d been attacked by a stuffed animal store.

“Morning, duckling. Pancakes?” Lucifer mumbled sleepily as he headed toward the kitchen.

Alastor stared after him, coffee forgotten. There was something unshakable about the whole situation—duck pajamas, bedhead, and the fact that Lucifer had golden blood running through his veins.

After quickly downing his coffee, Alastor followed him.

In the kitchen, Lucifer was stirring batter with all the grace of someone who’d been awake for maybe five minutes. The sugar was spilling everywhere, but the king didn’t seem to care. Alastor set his cup down by the sink, watching him with mild amusement.

“How are you feeling?” Lucifer asked without turning, still sleepily mixing.

“A lot better,” Alastor said, his voice a bit too smooth. “Your blood worked wonders.”

Lucifer nodded, yawning as he stirred. “Yeah, angelic blood’s a handy trick. More you get, faster you heal…”

Alastor, though, wasn’t listening to Lucifer ramble about blood properties. No, his focus was entirely on the king's shoulder, where his pajama top had slipped, revealing smooth, pale skin. A dangerous idea crossed his mind. Maybe just a little more wouldn’t hurt...
Leaning in, Alastor whispered, “Can I have some now?”

Lucifer’s POV:

“Can I have some now?” Alastor’s voice was way too close, and way too smooth.

It sent shivers down Lucifer’s spine—something he wasn’t used to. He turned, and Alastor was right there, like right there, staring him down like Lucifer was on the menu.