"I'm literally not his mom, I don't watch him every five seconds-- okay, come on, you really need to get a life. Afterlife. Whatever. This is WAAAAAY creepy even for an Overlord."
He sparked. An eyelid twitched again. Vox gestured wildly to Alastor before he hissed, "Tell her you're here so she stops thinking I've gone off the fucking DEEP END??"
More sparks. Glitching. The hand upon the arm rest tightened enough that metallic claws delved into the material as he jammed the phone into his coat pocket with the other.
"Wh-h-hy a-are your a-sso-ssociates so-o FRUS-RUSTRATING!?"
When he finally got a hold of himself, Alastor reached over and slapped Vox's back.
"What in the WORLD did you THINK was going to happen? HAH! HAHAH! Oh, yes, I'm just going to call up one of the Hotel managers - a Hotel that my company has been spinning in a harsh light - and ask her like she and I are good pals whether she knows what the Radio Demon's eating habits are like in the past six weeks! Oh, fuck! That's rich!"
Really, he'd hoped one of them would have caught him during a meal that Vox knew DAMNED WELL Alastor was having at least once. But what's-her-face was talking about stalking? Date ideas?? Like he could ever talk him into that that would ever happen!
One breath. Two. Counting down from ten. The sparks slowed. One last glitch later, and his screen refreshed to glower at him.
"Regardless of how that call went, asshole, you get my point, right?"
He huffed. Shit. He'd read senses could grow sensitive. His sense of taste, his sense of smell could sharpen to a point where stronger smells can be nauseating. Even after a shower and a change of clothes, he could still pick up something off of him, enough to remark upon it.
"I can... try... to curb the smoking. Work just gets to be a pain in the ass some days, and I'm already cutting back on the junk food as it is." He wasn't about to say things were better in the 50s when even doctors recommended a smoke for stress relief and even health and sex appeal. It'd been almost 80 years. Everyone knew better, even if he still engaged in the vice. "But while YOU enjoy your fair share of disgusting shit..."
If Al could touch, so could he. Those same claws that created violent divots in the arm rest settled upon the Radio Demon's middle with considerable care. "It's not just you that you need to think about, is it?"
Now, Vox was always a slightly obnoxiously touchy guy, enough that he paused as his gaze flicked down.
Alastor let out a winded 'wheeewww' to trail off his laugh, wiping a nonexistent tear from the corner of his eye. Vox was scrutinizing him intently, caught sight of something, felt the undergarment through his shirt (and that touch to his middle kept making Alastor's stomach twist a little in a distracting but not wholly unpleasant way) - but Alastor played it off, leaning in a little and giving a cutesy, coquettish little wiggle of his shoulders.
"Oh, Vincent, I've been a good boy with my diet for your baby," he cooed, riding that line of condescending and teasing. "I've been extra good and adding extra veggies to my jambalaya, even! You act like I wouldn't be meticulous about it."
His own stomach clenched, and his stupid, traitorous heart skipped around with the body language change and the teasing. Alastor knew exactly what he was doing each and every time, but Vox liked to think he knew the game this time around.
...And two could do just that.
He leaned as well, palm stroking little circles as he cooed, "Oh, Al... I expect no less from the Toast of New Orleans, and I'm over the moon for it. But where oh where's it all gonna go, huh...?"
One claw slid slowly beneath the hem of his coat. Don't change the subject, sweetheart~ "It's just me here. Give them some room, or I'll tear that thing off. ♡ "
Aaaand underneath the coat and the shirt was more fabric - something with stretchy material but some firm supports. Alastor upped the coquette and bumped his shoulder with Vox's, 'walking' two fingers up the exploring arm.
"It's a support garment. Just there to smooth out the shape, make it a bit more innocuous! They have plenty of room and cushion from my body," he protested, his fingers leaving when they made it to Vox's shoulder and instead running under the bottom of the television frame. "I've had remarks on my weight already, but thanks to the shape, no one suspects anything close to the truth."
He should be glad it wasn't a corset, really. But his act was faltering with a bit of snow over his screen as those fingers walked their merry way up his arm, shoulder to shoulder the way they were.
Vox should pull away from the touch. He knew he was being played with, but he stayed put. Stuck to his guns, of course. Stupid touch starvation-
"Aww... Breaking news: Radio Demon struggles with self-image issues...! Oh, what a scandal, haha... ha..."
A breath- "Who's been- who's been making remarks, haha...? Where do they live...?"
"Oh, sweetheart, don't you think I'd have already eaten them alive if they dared say anything that crossed the line? Hah!" Alastor teased, dragging a claw over the smooth glass, tracing around that yapping mouth. This was sufficiently distracting, wasn't it?
"Besides, it's not a matter of self-image, it's a matter of safety. The Radio Demon can get fat eating the flesh of his enemies, why not! But if it were clear that I was pregnant... well, that would give people ideas about testing just how vulnerable I might be," he hummed, gently tapping between Vox's eyes.
"And besides - I had so many chores to attend to before entering lockdown here. Trying to make sure the Hotel doesn't miss me for my unannounced maternity leave."
Enough that Rosie wouldn't step in, especially, but he's hoping to have plenty of contingencies for that possibility too.
Tink tink. His face scooted a little lower on the monitor to avoid a claw going into the eyes before shifting back. Didn't stop a pleasurable little spark to flit between his diodes, however. "Of course. You and I both know plenty about the scrappier side of this dump."
Lockdown... he supposed in a way it would be considered that. But he'd been scheming, of course. Always scheming. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a lockdown after all.
"...And if those two of yours come sniffing? The drunk and the little scary-beyond-reason one?"
"Husker will take any opportunity to get away from me! And I think he's sweet on someone in the Hotel - he can do whatever he wants, whether he sticks around or goes back to his little gambling hole. And Niffty dear has made fast friends with everyone there and is having the time of her life stabbing all of the rats to death," Alastor rolled his eyes.
"They'll only come if I call them."
Or if he's in apparent trouble - but if he's laying low, that won't be an issue.
"Wait-- are you frightened of Niffty? Hilarious, given how often you would throw your life on the line to get a mere chance of scrapping with me! But I guess there's some sense in you. She's hilarious when let loose on someone. You should ask your cohort - Niffty's oh so proudly pinned a tuft of his wing on her trophy wall."
Oh, that definitely gets a chuckle from Alastor! Finally sitting up instead of invading Vox's space, Alastor started to unfasten the buttons on his coat and take it off. His undershirt is quite snug, the practically emaciated size he was before long gone as he looked downright healthy.
"Hilarious. I wonder what he'd think of his fluff being pinned like a specimen along with a selection of roaches! Be grateful I never gave into the idea of telling dear Niffty that your antennae mean you're a bug."
Unfortunately that was more about keeping Niffty safe... he knew she was a menace, but it'd be a shame to lose the little bug and Vox certainly wouldn't have gone easy on her.
No dwelling on that - since it IS just the two of them and the physical is imminent, may as well remove his shirt as well. Underneath is the... oh, it's definitely a corset. A maternity corset, loose enough with lacing along Alastor's sides to allow him to loosen it for the growing child.
It was like he'd been released from a hook, the pressure in his chest loosening. Vox adjusted his seating position and opted for fiddling with his cuff links to keep his hands busy.
"How kind of you," he replied with a half-eyeroll. With another check of the time, he sat back and enjoyed a momentary and blissful silence. No phone notifications, no buzzing, no Ethan coming in to bother him. He'd effectively cleared his schedule for this nice chunk.
The peace ended when motion caught his peripheral and he peeked, just in time for the undershirt to get gone. Uh-
Wait, that WAS a fucking corset! YOU--
"Uh-"
After all of the touching, the shirtlessness and the corset were starting a rather vexing war in his head. How much time did they have? Could they just-? Could he--
No. No, no, no. He needed to get his shit together. The power balance was absolutely off. Vox fumbled, but reached out to assist as asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure." He's unhooked bras before, even with these claws. Watch him make short work of this.
"Man, who makes these any more...? This from that Cannibal Town...?"
"Nope! Found a sewing pattern in an old maternity book and made it myself," Alastor answered plainly, holding the corset in place as it was unhooked. Sure, he could've done it himself, but there was always a bit of feeling around for it or resorting to using his tentacles.
Besides, he could hear the slight buzz from Vox's screen from just a bit of static. The hint of extra light as the tv-head literally glowed from embarrassment. And that's fun.
Once unhooked, Alastor tugged on some cute lace ends that had been tucked in his pocket to release the back and took it off - it was much more obvious that he was pregnant, and not just thicker all around. There was a small bump, distinct in shape and size - enough to hide under the clothes, but probably not for much longer.
It was something so innocuous, removing that corset, but the garment was actually pretty cute all things considered. But Alastor had a little more fill and Vox's desire to touch was beginning to scream. It raised to a fever pitch with the undeniable evidence of what the Radio Demon carried- what they made- after an evening of hedonistic violence, blood and some of the best god-damned sex he's had in life and in death.
The electric current ran steady between his antennae as his mouth ran dry.
"...God, you look so fuckin' good..." Was what his mouth decided to form, tone awed and quiet.
Then he startled. He sat up straight. He crossed one leg tight over the other.
"...Y'know. For a guy who can't really kiss, anyway," he added, cleared his throat and let himself have a little grin.
Now, Alastor had been expecting some remark about his appearance - he'd wagered it was 50-50 on a snide comment regarding his weight or more obvious drooling, so that part he just chuckled at.
But then the remark about the kiss-- Alastor sat up straighter, head rotating on a swivel in shock.
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
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She's gonna hang up, now.
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fuck his life.
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"Hah... hah, hahahah, hahahahahaaaaah!"
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"Wh-h-hy a-are your a-sso-ssociates so-o FRUS-RUSTRATING!?"
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When he finally got a hold of himself, Alastor reached over and slapped Vox's back.
"What in the WORLD did you THINK was going to happen? HAH! HAHAH! Oh, yes, I'm just going to call up one of the Hotel managers - a Hotel that my company has been spinning in a harsh light - and ask her like she and I are good pals whether she knows what the Radio Demon's eating habits are like in the past six weeks! Oh, fuck! That's rich!"
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he could ever talk him into thatthat would ever happen!One breath. Two. Counting down from ten. The sparks slowed. One last glitch later, and his screen refreshed to glower at him.
"Regardless of how that call went, asshole, you get my point, right?"
He huffed. Shit. He'd read senses could grow sensitive. His sense of taste, his sense of smell could sharpen to a point where stronger smells can be nauseating. Even after a shower and a change of clothes, he could still pick up something off of him, enough to remark upon it.
"I can... try... to curb the smoking. Work just gets to be a pain in the ass some days, and I'm already cutting back on the junk food as it is." He wasn't about to say things were better in the 50s when even doctors recommended a smoke for stress relief and even health and sex appeal. It'd been almost 80 years. Everyone knew better, even if he still engaged in the vice. "But while YOU enjoy your fair share of disgusting shit..."
If Al could touch, so could he. Those same claws that created violent divots in the arm rest settled upon the Radio Demon's middle with considerable care. "It's not just you that you need to think about, is it?"
Now, Vox was always a slightly obnoxiously touchy guy, enough that he paused as his gaze flicked down.
Then back up. "...You're wearing something."
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"Oh, Vincent, I've been a good boy with my diet for your baby," he cooed, riding that line of condescending and teasing. "I've been extra good and adding extra veggies to my jambalaya, even! You act like I wouldn't be meticulous about it."
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...And two could do just that.
He leaned as well, palm stroking little circles as he cooed, "Oh, Al... I expect no less from the Toast of New Orleans, and I'm over the moon for it. But where oh where's it all gonna go, huh...?"
One claw slid slowly beneath the hem of his coat. Don't change the subject, sweetheart~ "It's just me here. Give them some room, or I'll tear that thing off. ♡ "
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"It's a support garment. Just there to smooth out the shape, make it a bit more innocuous! They have plenty of room and cushion from my body," he protested, his fingers leaving when they made it to Vox's shoulder and instead running under the bottom of the television frame. "I've had remarks on my weight already, but thanks to the shape, no one suspects anything close to the truth."
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Vox should pull away from the touch. He knew he was being played with, but he stayed put. Stuck to his guns, of course. Stupid touch starvation-
"Aww... Breaking news: Radio Demon struggles with self-image issues...! Oh, what a scandal, haha... ha..."
A breath- "Who's been- who's been making remarks, haha...? Where do they live...?"
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"Besides, it's not a matter of self-image, it's a matter of safety. The Radio Demon can get fat eating the flesh of his enemies, why not! But if it were clear that I was pregnant... well, that would give people ideas about testing just how vulnerable I might be," he hummed, gently tapping between Vox's eyes.
"And besides - I had so many chores to attend to before entering lockdown here. Trying to make sure the Hotel doesn't miss me for my unannounced maternity leave."
Enough that Rosie wouldn't step in, especially, but he's hoping to have plenty of contingencies for that possibility too.
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Lockdown... he supposed in a way it would be considered that. But he'd been scheming, of course. Always scheming. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a lockdown after all.
"...And if those two of yours come sniffing? The drunk and the little scary-beyond-reason one?"
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"They'll only come if I call them."
Or if he's in apparent trouble - but if he's laying low, that won't be an issue.
"Wait-- are you frightened of Niffty? Hilarious, given how often you would throw your life on the line to get a mere chance of scrapping with me! But I guess there's some sense in you. She's hilarious when let loose on someone. You should ask your cohort - Niffty's oh so proudly pinned a tuft of his wing on her trophy wall."
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Vox snickered, and slapped a knee. "He needed escorts everywhere until he'd gone long enough without another encounter! It was pretty hilarious...!"
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"Hilarious. I wonder what he'd think of his fluff being pinned like a specimen along with a selection of roaches! Be grateful I never gave into the idea of telling dear Niffty that your antennae mean you're a bug."
Unfortunately that was more about keeping Niffty safe... he knew she was a menace, but it'd be a shame to lose the little bug and Vox certainly wouldn't have gone easy on her.
No dwelling on that - since it IS just the two of them and the physical is imminent, may as well remove his shirt as well. Underneath is the... oh, it's definitely a corset. A maternity corset, loose enough with lacing along Alastor's sides to allow him to loosen it for the growing child.
"Unhook the back for me, would you?"
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"How kind of you," he replied with a half-eyeroll. With another check of the time, he sat back and enjoyed a momentary and blissful silence. No phone notifications, no buzzing, no Ethan coming in to bother him. He'd effectively cleared his schedule for this nice chunk.
The peace ended when motion caught his peripheral and he peeked, just in time for the undershirt to get gone. Uh-
Wait, that WAS a fucking corset! YOU--
"Uh-"
After all of the touching, the shirtlessness and the corset were starting a rather vexing war in his head. How much time did they have? Could they just-? Could he--
No. No, no, no. He needed to get his shit together. The power balance was absolutely off. Vox fumbled, but reached out to assist as asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure." He's unhooked bras before, even with these claws. Watch him make short work of this.
"Man, who makes these any more...? This from that Cannibal Town...?"
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Besides, he could hear the slight buzz from Vox's screen from just a bit of static. The hint of extra light as the tv-head literally glowed from embarrassment. And that's fun.
Once unhooked, Alastor tugged on some cute lace ends that had been tucked in his pocket to release the back and took it off - it was much more obvious that he was pregnant, and not just thicker all around. There was a small bump, distinct in shape and size - enough to hide under the clothes, but probably not for much longer.
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It was something so innocuous, removing that corset, but the garment was actually pretty cute all things considered. But Alastor had a little more fill and Vox's desire to touch was beginning to scream. It raised to a fever pitch with the undeniable evidence of what the Radio Demon carried- what they made- after an evening of hedonistic violence, blood and some of the best god-damned sex he's had in life and in death.
The electric current ran steady between his antennae as his mouth ran dry.
"...God, you look so fuckin' good..." Was what his mouth decided to form, tone awed and quiet.
Then he startled. He sat up straight. He crossed one leg tight over the other.
"...Y'know. For a guy who can't really kiss, anyway," he added, cleared his throat and let himself have a little grin.
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But then the remark about the kiss-- Alastor sat up straighter, head rotating on a swivel in shock.
"...!"
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Alastor's ears pinned back angrily and he turned away, head rotating back in place as he crossed his arms in a clear pout.
"You'd think you'd cherish such a thing - you got one from me when no one else has, even if it was a bout of blood-crazed insanity! Ungrateful."
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