hellborn-bitch

[hellborn-bitch]

“And I don’t need you to try to make me feel better.”

Alastor made his final lap around the hotel lobby, ensuring everything was up to his standards, before retiring to his radio tower for the evening. He had made it to the top of the staircase, when his eye caught something moving behind Husker’s bar below.

He saw the heart-shaped point of a tail occasionally moving, and could see familiar horns poking out over the bar counter. Cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, he dissolved into shadow and nothingness, only to reappear before the bar.

He peered over the bar and saw the succubus sitting on the floor, tucked behind the counter. Had it not been for her tail, she likely wouldn’t have been found by anyone. Which was likely why she was hiding there.

“What an odd place to spend your evening.” Alastor stated matter of factly.

Azira flinched at the sound of her owner having found her, but refused to lift her head to look at him.

“What do you want, Alastor? I already finished the list of errands you gave me.” Her voice was shaky and weak, wildly unusual for her.

“Nothing at all dear. Simply wondering why you’re hiding back here, on the floor all by yourself.” He looked at the spread of various familiar items she had laid out on the floor in front of her.

Five small candles were arranged in a pentagram, connected by lines of salt and a small border of tiny rocks. Alastor recognized a few sigils that had been drawn in what appeared to be blood.

Multiple empty bottles of wine were strewn about, with one singular glass left full and untouched. He assumed, due to the slight slur to her speech, she had consumed the rest of the wine herself.

“Don’t worry about it. Just leave me alone.” She drew her knees into herself, still obscuring her face from his sight.

“May I ask what you’re trying to do with this ritual, dear?” He prodded further, ignoring her request.

Her frustration won over. She felt like she was going to break at any moment, and wouldn’t dare do so in front of Alastor. “UGH I didn’t ask for your fucking help!! Why won’t you just go away!?”

“Is there a problem here?” Another voice echoed through the half-lit hotel lobby. Zira didn’t dare look up, but groaned in response anyhow. She knew exactly who it was.

“Not that I’m aware of…” Alastor responded all too happily, “… is there Azira?”

“Just go. Both of you.” There was a lack of usual malice in her voice, and Égalité immediately knew something was off.

He began walking towards the bar, while Alastor started his nonchalant walk away from it. When they met halfway, Alastor held out his staff to stop the angel momentarily.

“I’d tread lightly if I were you, my fine feathered fellow. She seems to be in quite the distasteful mood tonight.”

Égalité rolled his eyes and pushed past the much smaller man with ease, earning him a glare and small growl from the Radio Demon.

Alastor didn’t understand why this angel had a penchant for loitering around his hotel. And he certainly didn’t understand why he and the succubus continued to entertain each other’s company.

With a shrug of his shoulders and small huff of annoyance, he sank into shadow and disappeared, leaving them alone.

Égalité peered over the bar, having to bend over slightly to fit under the attached roof. He took notice of everything surrounding her, unfamiliar things he assumed to be some form of dark magick. A small part of his brain screamed to retreat from the witchcraft immediately, but he was more concerned with her at the moment.

She looked so small curled up on the floor. He wanted to scoop her up and hold her, but knew better than to attempt it.

“You don’t seem like you’re alright.” He spoke as softly as his deep voice would allow.

“Oh for Satan’s sake… can no one hear me when I say to LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE??” Her voice finally broke, betraying her state of sadness.

The second man to ignore her wishes that night, Égalité walked to the side entrance of the bar and got down on his hands and knees to crawl over to her. He silently cursed that she had chosen to be in such a small cramped space, as his wings bumped into the counter loudly.

The sound of him cursing in Latin, and the whole bar shaking from the force of him knocking into it, caused her to finally look up at him.

It was like she had taken one of her many daggers and pierced it directly into his heart. He’d never seen her look so upset before. She’s never allowed him to see her upset before.

She’d been crying. Her normally sharp and pristine makeup was a smudged mess, and her two-toned eyes visibly irritated from tears.

“Fucking Hell Bird-Boy… I don’t need-“

“Did he do this? Did that demon hurt you?” Égalité interrupted her, failing to hide his anger at the thought.

She shook her head with a bitter laugh, “Alastor? Please… I’d never let him upset me like this.”

“So you are upset.”

She paused for a moment, annoyed at her own slip up. “And so what if I am? What the Hell do you care?”

“Of course I care… I wouldn’t want to see any soul looking as tortured as this.”

She scoffed and attempted to wipe some of her smudged makeup off, “Gee thanks, fuck face.”

“No! That’s not what I…”

“Just go away. I’m a big girl, I can handle my problems all on my own.” She glanced down at her hands, drawing his eyes to follow unintentionally. She was absentmindedly tracing a small finger around a large laceration in the middle of her left palm.

“Perhaps I can help.” He offered sincerely.

“I don’t need you to help. And I don’t need you to try to make me feel better.” She huffed, this time a little quieter, “It won’t work anyways.”

“Perhaps it will.”

“FUCK! Why are you so stubborn?!” She snapped. Under different circumstances he would’ve laughed and asked the same question of her. But now was not the time.

He saw that familiar demonic rage in her eyes that he had almost grown to appreciate. He didn’t offer her a response, only keeping his blue eyes locked on hers.

“You think you’re some kind of Savior… but you can’t fix me, Égalité.” She spat with a venom that rivaled Hell’s own acid rain.

And yet his heart still skipped a beat when he heard her use his actual name, rather than the typical derogatory pet name.

“I’m not trying to fix you. Just asking you to allow me to listen to whatever troubles you. That’s all.”

He watched as her glare slowly softened, and eventually dissolved into defeat. She really must have been in ruins if she was caving to him that easily.

That or those empty wine bottles seemed to have helped lower her guard even the smallest bit. Either way he would take what he could get.

“It involves demonic witchcraft… are you sure your fragile existence can handle that?” She retorted with just a hint of her usual playful edge.

“I assure you I can handle it.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, a sight he was familiar with and happy to see again. She sat cross-legged in front of him, still looking drained and exhausted. She leaned back to rest her upper body against the cabinets under the counter.

He copied her and leaned back on the opposite wall making sure he was still facing her. His long legs and massive wings were awkwardly scrunched into the small space, but he ignored it.

“It’s the Autumnal Equinox. One of my favorite nights of the year, normally celebrated with loved ones and rituals…” she trailed off. “And I guess I’m just missing it all.”

“What kind of… ritual… is this?” He gestured hesitantly to the various unknown accoutrement assembled carefully between them.

“It’s a piss poor attempt to get back what I once had.” She said bitterly. He didn’t answer her immediately, and she reluctantly continued.

“When I was still traveling to Earth, I had a side project that I loved.”

He cocked his head in confusion, “A side project?”

“Yeah, it… wasn’t necessarily frowned upon, but it wasn’t exactly what I was supposed to be doing there either.”

“What do you mean?” He asked tentatively.

“I mean, I was supposed to be fucking and corrupting human souls. Sealing the deal to ensure they’d end up in Hell under contract to Asmodeus.” She shrugged, “Y’know.. succubus shit.”

“I see…” the thought horrified Égalité in more ways than one, but he maintained his calm demeanor. “And you were opposed to this?”

“Well… sort of?” she tried to find the right words to explain.

“We had a quota that we had to fulfill in order to be permitted to travel Topside legally. I would do the bare minimum, and then immediately run off to continue on my side project.”

“And the side project, I’m assuming, is this dark magick?” He gestured once again to the mess of sigils and salt between them.

“Essentially, yes.”

She wasn’t sure why she was sharing so much. It felt odd and uncomfortably personal, divulging such details about her life. What kind of irony it was, to disclose the habits of a succubus witch to a literal angel.

“Might I ask what prompted you to learn such things?” His tone lacked the normal sound of arrogant judgment she would’ve expected, given the less than Holy subject matter.

Zira hummed in contemplation, as she started tracing the cut on her palm again.

“I doubt an angel could understand this.” She half-heartedly laughed. “But when you’re told what you’re supposed to be your whole life, you begin to resent it and want something… more.”

Égalité nodded, silently. He ironically had thought the same thing. That a Hellborn demon could never understand what it was like to have aspirations thrust upon them, only to wonder if that’s all they were made for.

He however was not in a state of being able to admit that to himself aloud, let alone to someone else. Every day he spent in Hell made him question everything more and more. Especially her.

A small cry shattered the silence and brought his focus back to Zira. She had brought her knees back up to her chest, hugging herself for any sliver of comfort she could find.

A sad smile crossed her face, “You know, humans are just so good at forging their own identities. They’re not forced into one box of what they have to be.”

“I felt so free around them. Embraced by them.” Her voice was breaking with more small cries, tears welling up again. “I felt like I could be anything I wanted to be. I felt like a real person.”

“And now…” a small sob that managed to shake her whole body, “Now it’s all gone.”

Égalité was at a loss for what to do. This was the most genuine side of her he’d ever seen, and he was speechless. Every energetic fiber in his body was screaming at him to go hold her. To tell her he knew exactly how she felt.

But he knew better. He knew her better than that. The last thing he wanted to do was drive her away when she had already opened up so much to him.

She looked up at him, a sight that shattered his heart for what felt like the millionth time. “All I want is to find a way to go back. I miss seeing the beauty of humanity.”

He felt his heart ache for her. He knew the feeling well. He’d always had an appreciation for humanity as well, especially given it was his job to protect it. He’d never considered the possibility of being banned from experiencing humans in their creative prime.

“I’m sorry.” Égalité finally spoke.

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, a poor attempt to regain her composure. “What are you sorry for?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “That you’ve been dealing with this. And all alone, no less.”

She raked her good hand through her hair, sighing, “What else is new… I’ve always handled everything on my own.”

“You know you don’t have to.” He said quietly. She silently nodded, and he took that as his cue to get her out of there.

Égalité slowly maneuvered himself out of the bar, not without difficulty, so he was standing again. He extended a hand in her direction.

She placed her small hand in his, and allowed him to help her up to her feet again. Which she quickly learned was a mistake, as the alcohol-induced dizzy spell nearly took her back down to the ground.

He placed a steady hand on her back to prevent her from falling as she attempted to take a few shaky steps. It seemed the combination of alcohol and emotional exhaustion was getting the better of her.

“Fuck why are we going so fast, slow down!”

Égalité laughed to himself, having made his mind up. He scooped her up with one arm and carried her through the lobby towards the stairs. He was expecting her to verbally protest or physically assault him for the unwelcome attention, but it never came.

She must’ve agreed she was in no condition to walk all the way to her room. That or she actually enjoyed being held by him. He preferred the latter, but had a suspicion it was the former.

They had almost reached her room, when she spoke again, “I was wrong by the way.”

“Excuse me?!” Égalité couldn’t help the utter shock from hearing that phrase leave her mouth.

“You did help.”

[hellborn-bitch]

It’s best to let sleeping Succubi lie… 🖤🦇

[hellborn-bitch]

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to resort to such extreme measures…”

“But it seems you’ve left me no choice.”

[hellborn-bitch]

First Impressions

A continuation of Zira meeting Alastor, including their deal-making. I’m gonna call this another one-shot kinda ? Cuz it’s not really a chapter ? Idk lol

Again, this is entirely self-indulgent and I’m just kinda writing to write I don’t really have a formal plan to make this into a fic. Yet… ?

Alastor believed first impressions were crucial. He’d understood the importance when he was alive, and certainly did so in Hell. He took great pride in the fact a single glance struck fear into the hearts of any demon who dared to cross his path.

But this demon, this succubus, was different. She couldn’t be bothered to even feign fear of him. He couldn’t decide if he found it brave and admirable, or naive and ignorant to hold eye contact with the infamous Radio Demon the way she had. She was either unaware or apparently unafraid of his ruthless reputation.

Looking at her, her face full of disgust with what he assumed was a permanent frown, he found himself slightly amused. There was something to be said about unrelenting defiance, that he could almost appreciate.

Almost. Certainly not when it was directed to him, however.

“You’re looking at her.” She hissed, her tail flicking aggressively to punctuate her words.

So bold. So stubborn. This kind of blatant disrespect he would expect from the Vees, but from a Hellborn succubus, of all demons? Nearly the bottom of the food chain in Hell’s hierarchy and yet here she stood, brazenly defiant before him.

It was an entirely foreign concept to him, to have a soul so obviously beneath him act as though they weren’t. And it was perfectly irritating.

Alastor hummed in contemplation, mulling over how to proceed with his newest acquisition. “I trust you’ve already signed the contract then?”

His gaze immediately flicked to Asmodeus, as he cleared his throat to speak, “Actually no, that was to be done today to complete the uh… transaction.”

Alastor watched him flinch as the word left his mouth, and looked curiously over to the subject of said transaction.

She rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms with a huff, “Well that’s one way to put it.”

The utterance under her breath had gone unnoticed by the embodiment of Lust, but Alastor had heard it. He couldn’t help the dark laugh that gathered in his throat as he basked in her clear hatred for her current situation.

“Well then! I am more than delighted to draft the deal myself.” Alastor’s grin stretched, his eyes darkening with malicious intent. “I do love making deals, after all.”

Azira watched as his red eyes flashed and the odd static from before seemed to creep back into the room like a suffocating fog. She instinctively backed away in disgust, her face contorting to match the sentiment. This freak was becoming more and more of a problem for her.

Her eyes widened in realization, a new wave of energy washing over her as she pointed an accusatory finger at Alastor.

“Wait- if I haven’t signed any contract, then I’ve not been sold to anyone! I can’t just be acquired! He didn’t own me yet, and neither do you.”

Alastor watched as her face shifted back to familiar defiance, her eyes challenging him to find the flaw in her logic. Which, he could, of course. But oh, how he was enjoying watching her false sense of victory over him.

His pulse quickened in anticipation just thinking about her inevitable fall into his clutches, how delicious her disappointment would be. Asmodeus suddenly spoke again, interrupting his predatory plans.

“I’m afraid that’s… not quite how it works, babe.” He reasoned with her gently.

“What the Hell are you talking about?” She threw her hands up exasperatedly and shifted her weight onto one hip.

“No contract, no Overlord, NO DEAL.” She locked eyes with the Radio Demon when delivering the last two words, yet another challenge.

Asmodeus laughed nervously, and spoke instead to Alastor, “Could you excuse us for a moment? I just… need to discuss a few things with her.”

Alastor waved a hand dismissively, before turning it around to examine his claws, feigning disinterest. He was sure to keep a well-tuned ear, in the direction of the two demons, listening.

He watched Asmodeus pull Azira to the other side of the room, a massive hand on each of her shoulders.It was evident there was a bond between the two, but he couldn’t quite place the nature of it.

“Look… when we were still alone, there was a chance I could play it off and explain the circumstances to get you off the hook.”

He took a deep sigh and ran a hand through his multi-colored plumage. “But now the Radio Demon knows about it, and he smells the blood in the water. He is the last person to drop a deal that’s already been made.”

“BUT HE CAN’T-“ Azira was cut off by Asmodeus shushing her softly, a hand coming to cup her cheek.

Alastor watched, fighting his curiosity from winning over the discretion he was attempting. He couldn’t understand the dynamic between the two of them. Were they friends? Lovers?

Surely not…

Then again, he wasn’t exactly the best at deciphering between social and romantic cues. Or social cues at all. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, refocusing himself on his task of subtle eavesdropping.

Asmodeus spoke to her with a firm certainty. “You know I would never steer you wrong. This is still the better option. We both know that.”

“I don’t know that!” Azira retorted, “I don’t know a damn thing about him, Ozz!”

“But you do know who else wants you.” He said ominously, a reminder and warning at the same time.

Azira sighed and let her eyes wander across the room to begrudgingly settle on Alastor. He matched and locked eyes with her again. This time he found himself searching, though he wasn’t entirely sure what for. He saw two irises, one red and one white, holding too many emotions for him to process at once.

He could see the heavy cloud of disappointment.

He could see hatred. Or was it self-hatred?

He saw disgust and disdain.

But what he didn’t, or perhaps couldn’t see… was fear. Quite peculiar, he thought. Most souls would be terrified at the thought of being owned by him. Why wasn’t she?

He wondered what she thought of him. Wondered what sort of impression he had made on her, seeing as the only reaction he’d expected and grown accustomed to, was missing. Truly, he was at a loss for what to make of her altogether. The only thing he was sure of, was the deep seated drive he had to break her.

Azira turned to look at Asmodeus one last time, as if pleading for him to fix this. To stop her from being sold to the Radio Demon.

The Lord of Lust only offered her a firm nod in return, before disappearing in a whirl of flames. She was now alone with Alastor, with her new master.

“Now then!” Alastor broke the heavy silence with a misplaced cheerful tone. “ Azira, you will officially belong to me, once this deal has been made. You will come and go, do and say… as I command, when I command.”

Azira bit back the growl that rose in her throat at the sheer audacity this prick had. As if, she would ever be caught dead playing someone’s house pet. She didn’t offer a response, only hardening the glare she kept fixed on him.

“In exchange, I can promise your safety, and offer you a place to stay where I can… keep an eye on you,” he said with a smirk.

Her blood was boiling. She couldn’t possibly agree to this. Death would be better, she thought.

Maybe she could chase Ozzie down, change her mind and choose the option that resulted in her being murdered, instead. At least then, she could keep some semblance of dignity as she accepted her mandated punishment.

“Do we have a deal?” Alastor reached towards her once again, his unnaturally large hand beckoning for an answer.

“Fine.” She huffed, and tentatively extended her hand out to meet his much larger one.

That was all he needed.

A wide sinister grin split his face, neon green stitches the only thing still keeping it together. His eyes flashed to blood red, ticking dials; his sclera now devoid of all color.

The screams of thousands of trapped souls swirled around them, sending shivers down her spine. She could not see them, but she felt hands. Hands all over her body, pulling at her, begging her to help.

There was nothing she could do. She was one of those trapped souls now.

She gasped as a neon green collar formed around her neck. Her eyes followed as chains of the same glowing material linked together one at a time, until they ended in the closed fist of the Radio Demon.

She instinctively brought both hands up to tug at the collar, a pointless effort, she quickly found. Alastor watched as panic set in, her breathing increasing and eyes going wide.

He found it positively delightful to watch her squirm under the sheer idea of belonging to him. He wondered how long it would take to break that rebellious spirit of hers. To reduce her to nothing but a submissive pet on her knees before him.

Azira squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to whatever forces she could summon, that when she opened them this would all have been nothing but a horrible nightmare.

She kept them closed as she heard her captor continued cackling like some deranged beast. She felt a mist overcome her body, and tendrils of some force that felt both human and nonexistent at the same time. They wrapped around her waist and legs, lifting her off the ground effortlessly.

Her eyes were still sealed shut as she felt her body descend into nothingness, feeling weightlessly heavy. She could still hear the Radio Demon laughing, but the sound was no longer directly in front of her. Every direction seemed to echo his laugh back then her, a cacophony of cruel mockery adding to her sense of helplessness.

She so desperately wanted this to be a nightmare. It had to be…

It wasn’t until her feet hit something solid that she agreed to finally peek them open. Blinking rapidly, her eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh change in light, especially her left eye.

She quickly took in her surroundings, her hand instinctively reaching for the multiple blades she kept in holsters on each thigh. To the left there was a tall iron gate, behind it some kind of massive building atop a steep hill. As her eyes panned to the right, she caught sight of a tall figure moving in her peripheral vision.

She unsheathed a large dagger in her right hand, and plucked two throwing knives in her left, lunging towards the figure. The dark mass itself jumped, somehow seeming startled, before dissipating into the sidewalk.

“Now, now dear,” she heard an unfortunately familiar voice start. Two shadowy hands clamped around her wrists, forcing the angelic steel blades to fall to the ground with a clang.

She yelped in both surprise and pain, “Hey! What the fuck-“

“You won’t be needing these anymore.” Alastor stood directly in front of her, that same stupid grin still on his face. She tried yanking her arms free from the fists holding her captive, turning to see they were made of a shadowy mist rather than flesh and blood. She turned back to him to glare directly through whatever soul he may have had.

Alastor tutted, “Oh come now dear, you didn’t think you were rid of me, did you?” His voice dripping in a fake sickly sweet tone that made her stomach turn.

Azira let out an exaggerated groan, rolling her eyes and turning her head away from him, “I could only hope so.”

He laughed darkly before grabbing her face with one hand, forcing her to look at him, “Unfortunately for you, my dear, that will never happen.”

With every word he grew closer to her face, until she was only inches away from his cold red irises. “You belong to me now.”

She heard a growl come from the shadow behind her, but was unable to turn to see it. She gave a tentative tug at her wrists again, to which the shadow responded by squeezing tighter. She attempted to kick behind her at the shadow, before two more appendages wrapped around her ankles.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her pupils constricting as her body took hold in its familiar fight or flight response. “Good luck trying to tame me.”

His claws dug into the sides of her face, opening her mouth ever so slightly. She took the opportunity and spat at him, a few small droplets landing on his cheek, “You’re going to need it, demon.”

Bringing his free hand up to wipe the offended spot clean, he refused to break eye contact. She was waiting for the laugh she expected to follow, but it never came. He only hummed in contemplation, as he searched her face for something he could use against her. Anything.

He was eager to destroy her hopes of escaping him. She was so sure of herself, to a fault, evidently unconcerned about the consequences of her actions. He needed to break her of that little habit. He wanted to watch as that veil of cockiness fell around her.

He had a feeling she would be a difficult one to crack.

But Alastor hadn’t become the all powerful Radio Demon by backing away from a challenge.

“Darling there’s no need to be hateful. I am merely the consequences of your own actions,” he drawled, very clearly enjoying himself. “You’ve done this to yourself it seems.”

He watched as her glare hardened, before softening as she averted her gaze. She seemed to be dissociating before his eyes, no longer present before him as she let his words sink in.

Ah… so he’d found it…

He sighed and released her face. She opened her mouth to protest, or send off yet another spiteful remark, but was quickly cut off by a shadow hand taking the place of its master's holding her face.

Alastor snapped his fingers, as an ominous green glow began emanating from his index. He swiped his finger across her lips in a loose zig zag formation, leaving behind a trail of glowing green strings.

If she had been able to open her mouth, a frustrated “What the FUCK?!” would’ve tumbled from her lips.

But she couldn’t. Alastor had quite literally sewn her mouth shut, held together with sutures of neon green energy.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to resort to such extreme measures, but it seems you’ve left me no choice,” he explained with an exaggerated sense of disappointment.

She didn’t buy it for a second, she could tell he loved it. The power he was lording over her and quite literally silencing her with. He was a sick bastard, who got off on making others subservient to him. She was beyond furious, but all she could do was continue to glare at him.

“Now that you’ve been successfully muzzled…” Zira growled and attempted to lunge at him, but was still held captive by the Shadow.

“… I do hope you can behave yourself if we release you. Can you behave, like a good little dear?”

She huffed, and rolled her eyes. Every cell in her body wanted her to fight and continue to be as difficult as possible. But the voice of reason she normally tried to block out, warned her otherwise. This was already going to be a miserable fate, but she needed to play her cards carefully if she wanted to avoid making it harder for herself.

She let her shoulders slump forward and gave a curt nod to the demon.

“Delighted to hear it! Or rather, see it. Because… you know… you’re not exactly on speaking terms right now,” he joked with a sick wink.

She audibly groaned. She would’ve purposely vomited on his shoes at that sad excuse for humor, had her mouth not been sewn shut.

“Now then! I believe it’s time we introduce you to your new home, and the many…” he paused, waving his hand in an effort to find the right word, “…colorful residents that inhabit it.”

She nodded again, and was pleasantly surprised as her arms and legs were released. She rubbed at her red wrists, sending an icy glare at the offending creature and sending it shrieking away into the ground.

Alastor rolled his eyes at his Shadow’s cowardly behavior, and extended an arm towards Azira. She looked at it and then back up to his face as if to say, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

He sighed and lifted it to her yet again, pleading for her to take the hint and allow him to escort her. “You may think me a monster… and you’d be right… but I am still a gentleman.”

She hesitantly looped her arm around his, unsure what to make of his gesture. He had sewn her mouth shut while some strange Shadow restrained her, but now he was going to provide a gentlemanly escort up a hill?

He ignored her perplexed expression, and directed his attention to opening the iron gate in front of him. He began walking up the path, Zira reluctantly hanging on his arm, headed towards the looming building ahead of them.

“Come along now, there’s lots to be done, dear.”

[hellborn-bitch]

I did say this was a place for shitposting LOL

[hellborn-bitch]

Introductions

This was supposed to just be a quick one shot of how Azira met Alastor, but it quickly got out of hand and is over 3k words. OOPS oh well lol

Please note: I am NOT a writer, I just wanted to kinda get some out this outta my head and it was therapeutic to do so ! Who knows… maybe I’ll write more 👀

Warnings: mention of sex work, slight depiction of blood/murder

Gone. It would soon be gone.

Everything she once cared for, snatched away before she had time to exhale. Family members had decided she’d finally journeyed too far into the realm of disgraceful children. The few friendships she managed to sustain, immediately disintegrated as though they’d never existed.

She would find a way to convince herself she had no need for any of those things, but her job she would miss. Or at least.. the perks of her job. The actual task itself was easy enough, and pleasurable enough, but what she loved was the freedom it afforded her. That would be the thing she mourned most.

The freedom to travel to the living world at will, to continue studying the things that made her feel powerful. The freedom to actually feel like she belonged somewhere. She would mourn the friendships and meaningful relationships formed topside, and the powerful women there who inspired her. Ironically enough, she had felt more at home among the living, than she ever had in Hell.

“Azira,” A deep voice broke through her melancholic thoughts and jolted her back to the present. “Do you understand the terms of this agreement?”

Absentmindedly nodding and humming a weak acknowledgement, blurry eyes focused on the scene before her. Asmodeus stood there, towering in all his regal grandeur. He was quite the demon to look at, full of brilliant colors and unique features. She forced herself to stay present as his powerful voice explained the details of her current situation, to the stranger who stood before them.

He looked down at Azira, examining her features to get a read for how she was holding up. She met his gaze, feeling defeated, but resigned to accept her fate regardless. There was something in his eyes that seemed to soften the blow of the harsh reality he spoke, though she couldn’t quite place it. Was it regret? Pity, perhaps?

It was at least somewhat comforting to have a familiar face next to her, despite the fact he was technically the one responsible for delivering her to this demon. It wasn’t his fault, a fact she knew, but that didn’t change the painful irony gnawing at her.

Azira finally brought herself to really look at the stranger who stood before her. She didn’t bother to hide her disgust as her eyes roamed up and down, in a cold once-over of him.

He was at least 7 feet tall, wearing a dark cloak that obscured his face. That is, if he had a face at all. She couldn’t tell if it was just the shadow cast from his cloak, or if there truly was only a black void where a face should be. There seemed to be glowing green masses that resembled pointed eyes and a jagged mouth. A strange set of antennae sat atop his head, turned downwards in an unusual way she hadn’t seen before.

So this is the demon that owned her now…

Said demon awkwardly cleared his throat, subtly voicing his discomfort at being analyzed and judged so openly. Azira stifled a laugh, enjoying the irony of making a man uncomfortable under visual scrutiny, considering she was usually the one subjected to unwanted stares.

If she were asked, she would truthfully admit to getting a sick sense of pleasure out of making people uncomfortable in her presence. She had never been the kind to dilute herself to make others more comfortable, and she wasn’t going to start now. Especially not for this man.

A massive hand came to rest on her right shoulder, only slightly breaking her intentionally uncomfortable eye contact with the Overlord.

“Azira, honey, let’s try to take it easy on him, hmm?” Asmodeus gave her a look that was both amused and pleading.

After receiving a huff in response, Asmodeus continued, “As promised, Azira, you may return home for the next two days, and report back at the beginning of the week. That should give you time to gather your things and get your affairs in order.”

A nod in agreement to Asmodeus, a curt nod in the direction of the Overlord, and the two of them were gone in a flash. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two as Asmodeus escorted her to the front entrance of his massive home. The only sound heard was two sets of heels clicking against marble floors, as the pair walked in opposite-sized strides.

She had always respected Asmodeus. He had given her a chance 8 years ago when he took her under his wing as one of his trusted, Topside-traveling Succubi.

They were tasked with corrupting as many humans as possible, ensuring there would be plenty of lustful sinners arriving in Hell at a steady rate. Being seduced and swindled by the sickeningly effective talents of Asmodeus’ Succubi, most humans never stood a chance. Some of them unlucky enough to already have sold their soul before they perished.

He always took exceptional care of his ‘babies’, as he referred to them, despite them all being very much adults and very much successful sex workers. Asmodeus had such love and pride for his babies, and ensured they wanted for nothing.

Azira found herself eternally grateful to him, and that only seemed to add insult to injury given her current situation.

As if he had read her thoughts, Asmodeus broke the silence, “You know I would never have done this, if I had a choice.”

Azira nodded silently, not looking up from the ground, “I know, Ozz.”

He suddenly stopped short, prompting her to stop with him and actually look at him. “I really am sorry, Zira. This is the best I could do, given the… other options.”

The sincerity in his words, and pained expression on his face made her heart sink, her eyes threatening to tear up. Asmodeus had become like family to her over the years, and deep down she knew he had tried his hardest to spare her. A surge of anger sent shivers down her spine.

It really had been the lesser of multiple evils, being given to this weak newbie Overlord over others. She had heard the rumors of vicious Overlords slaughtering souls and ruling with an iron fist. This Overlord didn’t seem to be worth much, but that didn’t change the fact he would still own her. The very idea that she would cease to be her own person, sickened her.

The grand double doors opened to reveal the Lust ring in all its glory. Azira watched as the last bit of daylight disappeared behind the cityscape covered in neon lights. As much as she wanted to escape to her apartment and sulk in her solitude, she couldn’t bring herself to leave either. This was the end of a prosperous era for her, and the beginning of what she feared would be the most miserable period of her life to date.

Azira finally turned around to look at Ozzie one last time, “You really are family to me Ozz, and I’m going to miss you… all of you.”

It was rare for her to be so open and vulnerable with emotions, generally preferring to keep people at arms length. But not Ozzie. He was different, and she needed him right now.

Ozzie smiled and grabbed her before she could protest, lifting her off the ground into a monstrously big, warm hug. “You’ll alway be my girl, Zira.”

She laughed and gave into the display of affection, another rare occasion for her. Ozzie was warm and comforting, a true friend trying his hardest to make the best of an unfortunate situation. She wished she could just stay like this, and pretend all would be well again.

As her feet gently made contact with the ground, Ozzie spoke again, “This won’t be forever… you’ll be back, babe. I promise.”

—————————————————————

Two days had flown by.

And Zira had made no progress in coming to terms with the severity of her future. She should have formed some sort of list of healthy coping mechanisms to quell her anxiety.

Instead she chose lots of drinking, trashy TV watching, frivolous snacking and the occasional angry crying session, to self-soothe.

Going from ‘I’m a bad bitch who belongs to no one’ to ‘I’m a sad slave owned by some pitiful Overlord,’ was a particularly hard concept to grasp. She may have been born into the Lust ring, but her Pride likely rivaled that of Lucifer himself.

As far as gathering her things like Ozzie had instructed, she didn’t see the point. Quite honestly, she didn’t think much of this new Overlord, and certainly wasn’t intimidated by him in the least. And of course, if it came to it, she would use her sexuality and prowess to get what she wanted.

It wouldn’t be the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. As a Succubus it was almost expected of her to do so, and sometimes it was just the easiest way to get what she wanted. She was sure she’d be able to convince this creep to let her come and go as she pleased.

Sooner than she’d prefer, Azira found herself back on the front steps of the building that housed her Overlord owner. Taking a deep breath, and rolling her eyes for good measure, her feet started moving towards the lobby. One painfully long elevator ride later, and golden doors opened to reveal the penthouse suite. She’d been given a key by the doorman, who was only too excited to ogle, as she walked past unbothered.

The large ornate doors opened without issue, but something was different. It was eerily quiet and something felt off.

“Hello?” She was offered only stark silence.

“Uh… hello?”

Taking a few cautious steps inside, she took in the chaos before her. There were large gaping holes in the wall of glass windows, jagged edges of thick glass exposing the penthouse to the acidic air of Hell outside. Furniture was overturned and broken, shards of shattered glass everywhere. And blood. So much blood.

“What the fuck happened here?” She mumbled to herself.

Traveling further into the home, there were no signs of anyone. No Overlord, no other servants, no one. She nearly tripped over something, and glared down at the floor. Kicking at the offending pile of fabric with her foot, she realized it was a cloak. The same cloak the Overlord had been wearing two days earlier, but now a deep red, soaked in blood.

Azira immediately pulled out her phone, “Asmodeus. I need you here. NOW. Something’s up.”

She had barely pulled the phone from her ear, when Asmodeus appeared behind her in a whirl of flames. It always amazed her how fast he was, albeit with a pang of jealousy knowing she’d no longer be able to travel that fast.

“ZIRA! What the hell did you do?” Ozzie asked incredulously, looking around at the chaos.

“ME?!” she retorted, “I just got here, I have no fucking idea what happened here?!”

“Okay, okay! But you gotta admit, girl, this is definitely something you’re capable of.”

There was that famous pride of hers again, stroked by the mere mention of her capability to cause destruction. A satisfied hum and nod in agreement to his remark, before continuing, “Sooo, what am I supposed to do now?”

Ozzie took a lap around the mangled room, slowly taking in the scene before him. He glanced around and looked back at her, giving a mischievous shrug of his shoulders, “I guess if there’s no Overlord… there’s no contract.”

“Ah-ha! Let’s not be too hasty… there’s nothing more sacred than a contract after all.”

A new third voice echoed through the room, with a strange static effect to it. Azira quickly grabbed two throwing knives from the holster on her left thigh, and spun around to find the source of said voice.

“Oh-ho now! A feisty one I see.” The voice belonged to a tall and slender deer-like demon. He was ever so casually leaning on some sort of microphone, seeming as though he hadn’t a care in the world. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. It wasn’t in the usually gross and perverted way, but in a darkly predatory way. Perhaps it was the unnaturally wide grin stretched across his face…

“And who the fuck are you?” she spat, eyeing him up and down, the usual grimace of disapproval plastered across her features.

The demon straightened his bowtie and carried on with a cheeky smile, “Why, I am The Radio Demon, my dear. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Shifting her weight onto one hip and being the full embodiment of sass she was known to be, Azira scoffed, “Okay, let me rephrase this. Am I supposed to care who the fuck you are?”

The demon’s eye twitched and the lights of the penthouse flickered ever so slightly. She carried on nonchalantly twirling the blades on her fingers, waiting for a response. The Radio Demon’s frustration seemed to increase with each haphazard rotation.

Asmodeus stepped in front of Azira, in an effort to diffuse the situation, and to avoid her stabbing the aforementioned demon. She scoffed at his attempt to protect whoever this creep was, and poked her head around his large arm.

“You’ll have to excuse her, honey, she’s… a bold one,” Asmodeus laughed nervously. He didn’t find this demon to be a threat, but he was definitely treading lightly. Clearly he knew something about this guy, that she didn’t. He curtly nodded, prompting the Radio Demon to continue with his introduction.

“The name’s Alastor, my dear. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure.” He dramatically bowed, and extended a hand in her direction.

Ozzie gave her a swift nudge with one of his tail feathers, silently urging Azira to just pretend to be courteous for a moment. Rolling her eyes at both men, she reluctantly extended a hand forward to meet Alastor’s.

An odd jolt of electricity traveled through her fingertips and up her arm. An unfamiliar staticky energy that somehow felt both warm and chilling at the same time. Pulling her hand away cautiously, she examined the demon’s features. If he felt it too, he didn’t show it.

Asmodeus cleared his throat and spoke again to the Radio Demon, “Now if you don’t mind my asking… what are you doing here?”

“Yeah, and what do you know about all-,” Azira gestured to the entirety of the penthouse mess “-this.”

Alastor walked across the room, through multiple pools of blood, to the bar opposite where they stood. With a snap of his fingers, a glass of whiskey appeared in his hand and he took a long, slow sip. He looked around at the carnage with pride, a positively pleased smile on his face. “I’m responsible for all this mess, I’m afraid.”

A shared look between Azira and Ozzie, before turning back to the strange Radio Demon, “And the Overlord who lived here?”

“Oh he’s long dead!,” he took another long sip of whiskey. “Didn’t put up much of a fight either.”

Azira couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. Perhaps it was his nonchalance at destroying someone? The delight and pride he took in his dirty work? Relief that her almost-owner was now dead?

Regardless, it seemed she was right to underestimate the ability of the now deceased Overlord.

Alastor’s gaze snapped directly to the laughing Succubus, attempting to decipher what she found so amusing about his murderous activities. As her giggling died down, Azira locked eyes with him and held him there.

She was normally good at reading people, but he was… different. His crimson eyes gave away so much and yet nothing at all. Eyes that were half lidded and almost relaxed, but tied together with an exaggerated smile that felt wrong.

Refusing to break eye contact with her, Alastor spoke again, “Now, did I hear mention of a contract with said dead man?”

Azira’s confidence wavered slightly for the first time since meeting him, and she hoped it hadn’t reached her eyes. Hesitantly, she pulled herself from his burning gaze to look to Ozzie for help with a response.

Ozzie began slowly, lingering on her face before turning back to Alastor, “Yes, there was an agreement that had been reached regarding a soul…but since they haven’t signed-”

“Ah lovely!” Alastor interrupted, “I do enjoy adding souls to my collection!”

A lump formed in her throat as she struggled to keep her composure. She had gotten ahead of herself as per usual. Foolishly assuming she may have gotten around her servitude, with the death of her captor, but it seemed this Alastor had other plans.

“Yes well… this soul hadn’t even started their servitude. They weren’t technically an asset of this Overlord yet.” Ozzie explained cautiously. She could tell he was wording things delicately, a waltz of words with the Radio Demon.

“Ah ah ah-” Alastor wagged a finger in protest,”-any property owned by an Overlord is immediately transferred to the Overlord who bested them. Or.. killed them.” His smile spread impossibly wider across his face, as he took yet another sip of whiskey.

Fuck. She had been so close, almost a free woman again.

Heart rate rising and panic starting to spread, Azira looked to Asmodeus again for reassurance. This time, however, his expression held no comfort. Instead he seemed resigned and disappointed, and it was clear what that meant.

Asmodeus was far more powerful than any sinner, but there were certain hierarchies within Hell that even he couldn’t override. And this was one of them.

“Now who is this soul I have the pleasure of acquiring?” Alastor looked between the two of them expectantly.

It was her turn to speak, but Azira found herself at a loss for words. A very rare occasion, quite honestly. But the way he spoke about souls, about people, made her stomach flip. Property. To be acquired? For his collection?

She would be damned if she allowed herself to be reduced to such a pitiful excuse for a soul. She may have been forced into this servitude, but she sure as Hell wouldn’t lie down and take it without dishing out her fair share of insolence.

Azira snapped back to herself, and found that familiar defiant confidence to answer the Radio Demon.

“You’re looking at her.”

[hellborn-bitch]

“Smiling’s not really my thing.”

[hellborn-bitch]

A Hellborn Succubus, who doesn’t quite seem to fit in with the rest of her kind. Just because she was born into Lust doesn’t mean she can’t be more than that.

Raised in Hell

She’s the oldest of 4 siblings, and proudly the family disappointment due to some… unforeseen circumstances. Her family can’t understand why she won’t just follow the status quo, instead of questioning everything and everyone. She no longer has contact with her mother, and her brothers don’t bother to get involved in the family drama. (But she doesn't need them. She doesn’t need anyone.)

A bit of an outcast, mostly due to her own actions and attitude. She’s not complacent like most other Hellborns who’ve accepted their miserable lives for what they are- especially other Succubi. They don’t seem to understand her, and she can’t seem to comprehend how they’re fine living like brainless horny heathens.

Sex is fine, it’s physically pleasurable enough, she just sees it differently from other Succubi. (Different from most residents of Hell actually). She’s damn good at it, in the worlds of both the dead and living, with any being she sees fit regardless of gender, shape, size, etc. But being told a Succubus’ only purpose in life is to fuck randos… only makes her want so much more for herself.

Traveling Topside

At the age of 21, she secured a spot in Asmodeus’ inner circle that he sent topside to stir up trouble in the living world. After the long, boring Victorian Era of repressed human desires, Asmodeus decided it was time to get creative. Verosika Mayday and a select crew were tasked with traveling topside, to coax the nastiest lustful desires out of humans to secure their spots in Hell. Azira and her sister Riva found themselves part of this Harlot Harem, and they thrived. Their parents were ever so proud their daughters were working alongside the famed Verosika Mayday, and in the inner circle of Asmodeus himself.

The Succubi traveled across the world, visiting various cities and corrupting souls. Her sister frequented the cities of America’s east coast, but Azira’s favorite was New Orleans. There was something special about the strange city that fascinated her, and it was one Hell of a place for sin and debauchery. Speakeasies and gambling, burlesque dancers and sex workers, dark magick and divination. 1920s New Orleans was paradise for a Hellborn demon looking to condemn souls.

Magick in the Crescent City

There wasn’t a vice Zira shied away from, she did it all. And that included dabbling in dark magick and witchcraft. She learned all could about Voodoo, but it never felt right as a practice for her personally. She frequented the secret Tea Room divinators, and sought out those isolated huts in the swamp where masterful women of the craft shared their wisdom.

She secretly began a grimoire of her own and tried to absorb as much as she could. Azira refused to be left defenseless and took it upon herself to make sure she could handle herself in any realm using magick. There was one woman who was especially influential, a practitioner of Voodoo primarily, but wise and intuitive nonetheless. Affectionately known as Mama Sèf, she was an inspirational mentor to Zira’s understanding of magick and divination.

It quickly became that she enjoyed her time topside more than she did in Hell. She could actually pursue things of interest there, and no one in that city looked twice at anything out of the ordinary. She fit in with the Sinners, better than her own Demonkind, and finally felt a sense of purpose. Until it all went wrong…