raisoramizu

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My X: Raima_chan

My Bluesky: Raisoramizu

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Chapter 9 - The Whispers of Kalfu

Hazbin Hotel Fanfic "New Order" (Radioapple/Radiostatic/Radiostaticapple) Previous Chapter: Intro - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

The images for this fanfiction are for illustrative purposes only, and all credits go to their respective artists. TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains particularly explicit sexual content.

For Vox, it had been easy to command Alastor, simply by looking him in the eyes, to take Lucifer into one of the small adjacent rooms near the Meeting Hall. Specifically, they ended up in a sort of lounge that actually functioned as an office, used by Vox during breaks between meetings. The room, rectangular and windowless, had an air vent fixed to the ceiling and was part of the aquarium wall that also dominated the Meeting Hall. The same bluish shades shimmered like waves, preventing the room from falling into total darkness.

Besides, he didn't need much light. His face already glowed on its own, as did the screens he spent all day in front of; there were a few in here too, three of them, linked together to form one large computer on his desk, which took up the entire wall opposite the door. At the moment, the screen was on, projecting only a blue background with the VoxTek logo.

Without his jacket and cap, both tossed carelessly on the swivel chair, Vox was leaning back against the edge of the desk, his red eyes wide with a mix of excitement and amazement. He was already on his fourth shot of rum.

Fifth.

He downed it in one gulp, snapping his neck back and exhaling at the burn of the alcohol before slamming the glass down on the desk. He was facing the dark leather sofa pressed against the aquarium wall, where... Alastor was fucking Lucifer.

The Half-Deer had obeyed him without a word, keeping that dumb, serene grin on his face like he was tripping, but now he was acting entirely on his own. He had started undressing Lucifer even before they reached the room, devouring him with his eyes. The angel's clothes were scattered like breadcrumbs, marking a path from the Meeting Hall to the lounge. Only his shirt remained, crumpled and smeared with golden blood. The same blood staining the couch, flowing from his deeply bitten shoulder.

Amidst the cold hum of the ventilation fan, Lucifer's voice could be heard: gasping, moaning, sometimes hoarse, sometimes high-pitched, as he lay on his back with the nape of his neck pressed against the stiff armrest, while Alastor hovered above him, touching him everywhere with an almost sweet impatience. The Half-Deer was as violent as ever, but there was a particular possessiveness in his movements, like he didn't want to miss a single detail of the body completely submitted to him.

He wasn't transformed, but his touch was ravenous; he grabbed and clawed with his talons, wrapping Lucifer with several tentacles that sprouted from his back, still covered by his shirt, barely held in place by his suspenders. The dark coils twisted around the angel's arms and along his parted thighs, ready to welcome the Sinner's body. One tentacle crawled up his jaw, slipping between his sharp teeth to play with his tongue, while others coiled around his nipples, squeezing and rubbing them, oozing a viscous substance. It would've been absurd to say the angel wasn't beautiful in that state: with his hair disheveled, sticking to his forehead and bloody neck, with his eyes swollen and dilated with lust, his body tense, contracted, arching on the couch, trembling with spasms of pleasure. He seemed to glow. Terribly perverse. Sin incarnate.

Lucifer had an androgynous beauty, with a face that resembled a mischievous clown but also a serpent. His tail swayed in the air, pulled by another tentacle, while more wrapped around his ankles, suspending his dark hooves tipped with white nails in the air.

Alastor was hunched over him, one knee planted firmly on the couch between the other's legs, licking and biting, leaving marks all over his body. Vox couldn't see his face, hidden as it was beneath a mop of red hair, which swung and stuck to the blood and sweat. He didn't know what to think: should he feel jealous of Alastor, or find the scene before him wildly arousing? But his body decided for him. He felt a violent surge in his pants and grimaced, gripping the obvious bulge straining against his trousers with one hand, while the other clawed into the glossy wood of the desk, cracking it slightly. He was already heated, and his shirt was starting to cling to his back; his need was almost entirely natural, though the substance swelling within Alastor was also intensifying the desires of the other two.

He pulled away from the table, straightening up, and approached the couch to loom over the two figures. His gaze locked onto Lucifer's face, distorted by pleasure. Alastor didn't seem to notice his approach.

Swallowing hard from excitement, Vox bent his knees, crouching down until he was nearly level with the angel's face, which lit up from the bluish glow of the monitor for a moment before shifting bloodshot eyes toward him.

Lucifer looked at him with a pained expression, his forehead furrowed and matted with blond hair, still shuddering under the constriction of the tentacles invading his mouth and mixing with the countless strands of saliva that kept dripping continuously.

Vox grew even hotter, his claws digging into his bent knees. He wanted to reduce Lucifer to that state as well. It would be magnificent... the King, bent beneath him. He'd imagined Alastor in a thousand different forms, positions, attitudes, but he'd never thought a scene like this could happen with Lucifer. So, having him right in front of him now was a new desire, an extra step in his ascent toward total domination. This thought made him completely forget a part of his pact with Lilith: Alastor was never supposed to touch Lucifer again. If Vox had remembered that tiny, insignificant—sarcasm—detail, he would have realized he'd broken the agreement.

"You like this new version of Alastor, don't you?" said the TV Demon, more as a statement than a question, his gaze shifting sideways toward the redhead, who was now starting to trail down Lucifer's abdomen, making the angel groan.

The Seraphim's hands flew to Alastor's hair, fingers tangling between his ears and horns, while the Half-Stag kept bending lower until his face was buried between Lucifer's thighs. Lucifer's eyes flew open, his head rolling back in shock: in a single swift motion, Alastor had taken him entirely into his mouth. Just like that, without even giving him time to process it. He felt like he was going to explode from within.

Heat rushed to his cheeks, his eyes glistening with tears of emotion. The love spell radiating from Alastor heightened everything, but there was more. All that pain had set him free again; since they had started this twisted bond, he couldn't deny feeling—oh, he felt, too much, but always trapped in the grip of panic.

Now, though, that anxiety was sliding away, and his mind was giving way to perversion: he wanted more, he didn't want it to stop, he wanted to let himself be subjected to everything considered immoral by every culture and religion in the world.

"...I bet your issues stem from his indifference to sex. But you, on the other hand, seem to enjoy it quite a lot," Vox continued, running his blue claws through Lucifer's damp hair. With his legs thrown over Alastor's shoulders, the angel trembled at every movement of the Half-Stag's head.

Alastor moved up and down, letting Lucifer's engorged member slide along his slick tongue, scraping it lightly—but dangerously—against his fangs, causing increasingly wet, sloshing sounds that were audible even over the angel's gasps.

"If Alastor stays around, you can have this whenever you want."

"...But this isn't... him," Lucifer moaned.

Vox grinned, saliva pooling as he trembled with excitement, kneeling while unbuttoning his own pants.

"Oh, but it is him," he replied in an affably sinister tone. "He's just expressing a part he usually keeps buried. You should know that better than anyone."

Lucifer should have known. But it was clear now: he didn't know Alastor at all. It made sense, after all—they had only been bound for a few weeks. He hadn't had the time to truly explore him, to understand every facet of him, to see how genuine he was in his old-fashioned, lively, yet ambiguous ways—and whether... he felt the same. Did he? Maybe Alastor felt nothing at all, except the desire to taste his blood. But right now, did it matter? Why give in to doubts and fears? Why now? Damn you, Media Demon, shut up and join in if that's what you want.

Lucifer felt pleasure paralyze his lower body, drowning out those thoughts that had nothing to do with the current situation. His dark claws tangled in Alastor's damp hair, his hooves tapping against the Half-Stag's back, driven by instinctive spasms. Suddenly, he felt the demon's claws plunge deep between his buttocks, and his eyes and mouth flew open; Alastor's fingers curled, pressing torturously against his prostate, making him explode with intense, sharp pleasure. His body arched as a hot release splashed across his chest and neck.

"...!!"

He snapped out of the blackout just as Vox pinched his nipple, while Alastor's mouth slid off his cock, letting the cooler air of the room rush in.

Lucifer refocused just in time to see Vox's face before the TV Demon shoved his tongue into his mouth in a sloppy, wet, and invasive kiss. Even though the shocks of his orgasm were still ricocheting like wild sparks through his body, the sudden switch of partners filled him with fresh lust. Vox didn't even give him time to process the intrusion before he was lifted bodily.

"Heh-heh... I bet you didn't expect this from him either. I taught him this one," Vox chuckled darkly, gripping Lucifer's bare hips tightly and lifting him, positioning him at the base of the couch. He pressed in close, shoving a knee beneath the angel's spread legs and dragging his claws upward to lift them over his own shoulders.

Lucifer found himself pinned between the couch's backrest and Vox's large, still-clothed body. He was sweating, burning up. Vox's metallic scent, like that of an electronic component, repulsed and excited him at the same time. It was like he was facing an object, a machine. Obscenely folded, with his shoulders brushing his knees, his hooves dangling in the air beyond Vox's head, he gripped the demon's shoulders with force, making him shiver and causing an electric charge to crackle over Vox's antennae.

He could feel the other's heart pounding against his chest, their breaths equally ragged, but Vox maintained control, making calculated movements, like when he, too, penetrated Lucifer deeply with his fingers.

"Easy, Your Majesty... it's my turn now."

The TV Demon grabbed both of the angel's buttocks with his claws, lifting him just enough to rub his wet, dark cock, which had already slipped out from his unbuttoned pants, between them. He was impatient, while Lucifer seemed on the verge of bursting. What's Alastor doing? A fleeting thought in the whirlpool of emotions bent the Seraphim under the fingers of Vox. He could feel the knuckles grazing his flesh, and Vox's cock pushing to enter through his clenching muscles.

But just as the TV Demon began to press into him, there was a sudden, sharp snap in the room as tentacles wrapped around Vox with alarming speed, sending another electric jolt through him.

"What the hell..?"

Vox, with a sharp twist of terror in his chest, found himself bound by the dark tendrils, his wrists tied behind his back. The tentacles lifted him, pulling him away from Lucifer, and with a sudden flip—under the stunned gaze of the angel—he was slammed down onto his own desk, bent over on his chest. The impact was so violent it made him snarl and discharge electricity onto the floor, knocking over a few pens and a tablet, and sending his large triple monitor teetering dangerously beside him.

The move had been so swift, he couldn't even grasp where Alastor was. Now he couldn't turn his head, trapped as he was with his abdomen against the table's surface. His TV-screen head prevented him from twisting his neck; all he could do was stare at the wood in front of him.

"Alastor! What the hell are you doing?!" he growled, struggling in vain to free himself. Thankfully, the red demon had lost much of his power, but Vox was still tied to the table. Tentacles snaked over and under his clothes, wrapping around the desk, pinning his hands near his lower back. More of them had pulled his pants down, crumpling them around his ankles, exposing his firm glutes and toned legs, dark and traced with bioluminescent electronic tattoos.

With a sudden burst of anger, he jerked his shoulders, attempting to violently shock the tentacles, but something went wrong.

"...?!"

He couldn't move, and the electric bolts were being absorbed by something.

"Good, weren't you looking for some fun?" It was Lucifer. He was perched on the desk beside him, and with a single hand pressed between his shoulder blades, he held Vox down like an immovable stone, absorbing his electricity. Vox couldn't turn to look at him, but he could feel him, just as he could hear the groans of pleasure that his electric shocks were causing.

"What kind of game is this?!" Vox growled again, his voice distorted and muffled against the wood of the table.

"Yours. Aren't you the one controlling Alastor?"

In that moment, the TV Demon felt the claws of the Half Stag grip his hips, and along with them, he felt the other sinner's pelvis press against his exposed glutes. The fabric of Alastor's pants brushed his thighs, while the other's bare groin rubbed obscenely against his skin, his body bent over at a ninety-degree angle.

... He furrowed his brow, his body trembling between a feeling of dread and the painful throbbing of his own erection, so hard it hurt. He swallowed that excitement, that need, shoving it into the unconscious part of himself, continuing to resist. But physical resistance was futile: besides the tentacles he could have easily broken free from, there was Lucifer, and against him, there was no hope.

"Alastor?!" he snarled, red-tinged saliva dripping onto the table, glued to the screen. "You awake, you cursed dog?!" He gritted his teeth in fury.

"No~" crackled the Half Stag. Vox froze. Was he conscious or not, dammit? "I'm yours, Voxy. I'm just doing what you desire."

"I never told you to—" But he stopped. Part of him did because he felt Alastor's hardness slide between his legs, along with a slick tangle of tentacles wrapping around his own cock and balls, beginning to stroke. Part of him... wanted it? Had the mental link with the red demon sunk so deep that Alastor was picking up on his instincts, without Vox even needing to give orders? This was dangerous as hell.

It had happened before, with a Sinner he'd kept close for years; at some point, he'd been forced to make her disappear forever because she had dangerously latched onto his soul. But Alastor's will was certainly stronger than that of a mere Sinner. It wouldn't happen... Vox let out a low groan, shuddering against the table.  

The tentacles rubbed against him while Alastor's fingers began to push between his glutes, forcing him to tense his masculine thighs. Meanwhile, Lucifer kept caressing him, running his fingers along the back of the screen, then down his neck, slipping off the undone bowtie and sliding his hand beneath the fabric of Vox's shirt. Oh, damn, this situation was insanely arousing.

Suddenly, Alastor's claws violently sank into the flesh of Vox's rear, making him groan and curse. The TV Demon swore even more when he felt Alastor truly start to push inside him. Vox felt a sharp pain in his lower back, mixed with the pleasurable sensation of being invaded, which exploded through every nerve, making him literally short-circuit. He jerked forward, making the desk tremble, a warning error flashing across his screen. He also sensed some strange movement from Lucifer, but all he could do was surrender to the pain, which was gradually morphing into pleasure.

As Vox cursed and let out hoarse groans, Alastor began pounding him against the table, keeping his claws firmly embedded in his hips. Alastor spread his legs wider, pulling Vox's along with him, plunging deeper, his shoulders curving as he did so.

The shark demon felt the pain growing more intense, but at the same time, irresistible waves of pleasure coursed through his body from head to toe. Every thrust from Alastor seemed to tear involuntary moans from his throat, while his mind fought to regain control over the swirling vortex of sensations overwhelming him. Every time he tensed up, trying to resist the assault, the tentacles responded with a firmer, deeper touch, as if they knew exactly where to strike to make him lose himself even more.

And then there was Alastor's voice behind him, moaning in response, with its usual higher-pitched, crackling tone compared to Vox's. He could feel Alastor's hands sliding over his sweat-slicked hips, and each thrust seemed to push him closer to the edge. God, the TV Demon would have given anything to know what the hell the Radio Demon was thinking in that moment! Between the electric shocks visibly coursing up his spine every time Alastor bottomed out, clouding his mind, these questions buzzed in his head.

Fortunately, we can know. Alastor was trapped in an endless, deepening dream that, day after day, pulled him further down. Now, as he ground his teeth from the overwhelming sense of claustrophobic pressure that gnawed at him, though he had to give in because of the serum in his veins, he felt his hair smacking against his sweat-streaked forehead. His vision was still blurry. He couldn't control how to act; all he could do was let go. He was aware, but not fully. He only felt instincts he had never experienced before—except with Lucifer—and now, those instincts were oppressive, constant, never leaving him and gnawing at his abdomen like a painful, frustrating vice.

And then there were those voices. Or was it just one? At first, he couldn't make out what it was saying, but as time passed, it became clearer. The more his will was annihilated, the more that voice found space to emerge, just like his sorcery, which had begun to go haywire as his power waned. And now... he understood it.

"Look at what you've become, Alastor. Did you ever think it'd come to this?" A rough, mocking male voice taunted him.

The Deer Demon pushed harder, grinding his teeth, drool leaking from his sharp jaws. "Son of a bitch..." Vox growled, his voice distorted and broken by the pleasure burning in his throat. "Sssh..." Lucifer hissed, leaning down toward the TV Demon's ear. "You're enjoying it, you should see yourself..."

Alastor felt his clothes clinging to his body from the heat, suffocating him. He was burning inside, his hips ablaze with pleasure, as if he were about to burst into spontaneous combustion.

"You used to mock these Sinners for being so predictably perverse and obsessed with something as boring as sex... and look at you now. You tasted it with Lucifer, and now you can't get enough!"

The voice kept talking, and Alastor growled, "!!" jerking his head up with that frozen smile, as he was yanked forward by his shirt collar. His demon eyes, bloodshot and blackened, landed on... Lucifer! His serpentine tail flicked behind him as he knelt on the table, clinging to Alastor with a languidly wicked expression. Alastor caught a glimpse of those golden eyes before their mouths locked in a shameless kiss, making it even harder to breathe. But he didn't stop, still slamming Vox against the table, panting with fiery breaths into the angel's sharp mouth. God, he loved the taste. It was divine blood, sweet ambrosia, nothing like human blood—though he liked that too.

Vox no longer struggled, at least not to break free. Instead, he grabbed Alastor's wrists, pulling him back as Alastor pushed forward. His deep, masculine groans grew louder as he raised his shoulders, his screen flushed red, drooling, overwhelmed by the pleasure as he turned his face toward the wall.

"...relax, I'm just teasing! It's not your fault, it's Vox's... he's always had a thing for you. Did you ever realize? I laughed so hard when you almost killed each other because he asked you to be with him and you misunderstood everything. But deep down, you know he's sincere in his feelings. I mean, come on, you're demons—no one expects you to love in a healthy way, right? But you're too sadistic and psychopathic to bond with someone like that..."

Alastor growled again, biting Lucifer's lips, making them bleed, while Vox let out a harsher, more pained moan.

"...alright, let's talk business: you need to break the Pact with Lilith. If you don't do it in time, Roo will wake up. She won't be able to control him, and he'll devour all of creation. Sure, next time God gets bored, he'll make another world somewhere else, but not here."

The voice droned on, like a machine gun. Even Charlie didn't talk this much when she was stressed out... what the hell is it rambling about? Who is this?

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Alastor suddenly roared, his voice echoing through the room. Vox's eyes widened, and Lucifer gasped, "Whoo..!" as he was lifted off the table, suspended in midair by a tentacle coiled around his knee. He dangled upside down, his arms and shirt floating weightlessly in the air.

"I am the Key between the Two Worlds, the one you found while toying with your sorcery. I thank you because you brought me here, but you must free your soul, or I cannot free myself from you."

"A-Alastor, wait.." "UH!" Lucifer's panicked voice cracked through the air around them. Vox stared at the wall where a massive, rotating Voodoo symbol had appeared, composed of four arrows inside a circle. And behind it... what was that? Alastor's shadow moving on its own? His red eyes darted sideways toward Lucifer, who was now entangled in tentacles. His head hung at the same level as Alastor's, but Alastor wasn't even looking at him. Instead, the tentacles were already snaking into every part of him. The Sinner tried to rise again, but Alastor grabbed the back of his screen, slamming him back onto the table.

What the hell is going on? Vox no longer understood anything. The pleasure was about to consume him, while the blue lights around them shifted into a toxic green. Lucifer whimpered, but Vox was trapped, unable to see. He could only feel: his hips were about to explode. He gritted his teeth as the Seraphim's moans grew sharper. Then the orgasm hit him, perfectly synchronized with Alastor's. Electric shocks surged through their bodies amidst radio distortions and spasms. "F-fuck..!" Vox yelled as Alastor was still screwing Lucifer with his tentacles, and of course, Lucifer seemed to be enjoying it. His voice filled the room, along with the red and white feathers that floated everywhere. Vox had wanted to share the angel with Alastor, but it was the Deer Demon who had devoured them both.

Alastor loosened the tentacles around Vox, finally freeing him, and carefully laid Lucifer on the couch. Still caught between pleasure and dazed exhaustion, Lucifer let his head drop onto the armrest, his eyes half-closed.

No one spoke for a while; only the sound of the fan filled the silence.

...

2

Lucifer's face showed the weight of the long night. He sat there, frustrated, having used every service that place had to offer just to take a shower and wrap his shoulder—wrecked by Alastor's jaws—in fresh bandages. He was even wearing a white silk robe with the blue VoxTek emblem emblazoned on the back. His expression, however, told a tale of guilt. How was he ever going to face Charlie now?

He was curled up in one of the lounge chairs on the external terrace of Vox Tower. The Hell's black sun cast a faint, reddish light, accompanied by a breeze that carried the stench of sulfur. The terrace was circular, lined with high black marble balustrades, featuring a state-of-the-art jacuzzi, a few lounge chairs, and a low table. That's where they sat—Lucifer and Alastor, without Vox.

The angel, his knees pulled to his chest and legs half-hidden beneath the robe, fidgeted with his tail nervously. His face buried in a huge mug of black coffee, his golden eyes sharp with embarrassment and disappointment, darted to the phone screen on the table, which flashed five missed calls from Charlie. Then, his gaze flickered over to the serene figure of Alastor.

The demon was sitting like a king on his throne, his forearms resting on the armrests, wrists hanging loosely in the air. A crooked smile hung on his face, his gaze drifting off somewhere, far away. He wore a blue nightshirt patterned with VoxTek symbols. Lucifer couldn't understand him—he never could, but now he was utterly incomprehensible. Was he truly under Vox's control, or was he pretending? The events of the night had been bizarre, even for him. Not that Alastor wasn't capable of tearing people apart under normal circumstances—Lucifer was living proof of that—but this level of perversion, this need, didn't belong to him. He seemed drugged, addicted, like he lived in a world of his own now, one even Vox couldn't control.

Lucifer stopped blowing bubbles into his coffee, licking his lips with his long, forked tongue.

"Al... Alastor, are you... okay?" he whispered, feeling a jolt of fear hit his chest. He didn't expect a response. The question came out of desperation.

But an answer came.

"No, Lucifer."

Alastor's voice, distorted as always by the radio static, broke the silence without even looking at him. He just offered the side of his face, eyes half-closed, fixed on some distant point ahead.

Lucifer felt himself sink again and shot to his feet. He left the coffee on the table, standing up from the chair so quickly that pain shot through him—he was bruised all over, everything hurt. He collapsed to his knees in front of Alastor, trembling hands gripping desperately at the demon's thighs. He lifted his gaze, searching for Alastor's eyes, but found only distance. His blonde brows furrowed, breath quickening, heart pounding in his throat.

"I'll get you out of here... we'll find a way, I promise..." His voice was a frantic, broken whisper. "It's just an Overlord—it won't take long to break the hypnosis..." Lucifer's smile was desperate, but Alastor remained still. Panic surged in Lucifer's chest, like sinking into quicksand.

"...we'll fix the Lilith problem."

At that, Alastor lowered his gaze, meeting the angel's anxious eyes. Lucifer blushed, his cheeks and nose reddening. The demon lifted one hand from the armrest, gently threading his claws through Lucifer's messy blonde hair, a soft caress.

"I'd rather stay here, Majesty~" Alastor teased, just as his gaze began to whirl again, caught in the spirals of Vox's hypnosis. The buzzing in the Half-Deer's head returned—an oppressive interference trying to communicate something incomprehensible.

Lucifer blinked, stunned, mouth open.

"You're... not yourself..." he mumbled, letting Alastor stroke his hair.

"If I leave, Lilith will kill Vox."

"Lilith?! She's shown up again?" Lucifer snapped, his head drawing back into his shoulders, but Alastor didn't answer. The angel grabbed him by the shoulders, leaning in closer.

"Alastor, you have to talk to me! I know I'm distracted, I know I'm emotional, but if you don't let me in, I can't help you!" He continued, desperate. "I'm not omniscient like... like..." He trailed off, sinking into a hysterical, dissociated smile. Like my Father? Like God? He bit his tongue, clenching his jaw in a flash of anger, staring nervously at the floor.

The pressure in Alastor's head intensified. With a last shred of clarity, he whispered:

"You have to help us."

Lucifer's golden eyes shot up.

"Us?" he repeated, baffled. "You mean the TV Demon too? Why do you care about him? He's manipulating you, making you do things you'd never do!" he snapped.

"...things you willingly joined in on. You didn't seem so jealous of him last night," Alastor calmly retorted, freezing Lucifer in place, mouth open, eyes wide.

That simple response hit Lucifer like a dagger stabbed between his shoulder blades. A terrible wave of guilt and self-awareness crashed over him. He swallowed hard, panic rising until his limbs went numb, nearly dissociating him from reality. But Alastor yanked him back: the demon leaned forward, gripping his face firmly, but not violently, between his hands.

Lucifer found himself staring at Alastor's face, so close, so sharp in its features... something about that faint, ever-present smile was unsettling. The dark tips of Alastor's hair framed his beauty like shadows. Then, he spoke—but his voice was different.

"Who's the best or worst here? We're in Hell, Lucifer. But in the end, they're still human souls. You of all beings should know what human souls are capable of... where's your Divine Essence gone?"

The words came out as a hiss. Lucifer stiffened—something was wrong. Alastor felt a sudden burning in his chest, as if his witchcraft was trying to break free, to take control. He leaned forward, letting go of Lucifer's face, his hands gripping the armrests as his body began to change. His eyes filled with black, his horns branching out, and along his shoulders, knees, and the sides of his mouth, stitches appeared as if his flesh was being held together by invisible threads.

Something inside him was trying to escape, swelling from within, pushing the physical limits of his body until he resembled a Voodoo doll. The X on his forehead flared—a sign that something was taking over. Lucifer stared, unable to comprehend, even less able to react. His heart pounded harder, panic seeping into his skin. He was in shock, but also terrified—something inside Alastor was changing, and he was powerless against it.

"You're lost, Lucifer," Alastor's voice came out distorted, mingled with another, deeper, raspier tone. "You've hit rock bottom. You're no longer fit to maintain order, but I am. I can create a new order... perfect."

Lucifer instinctively pulled back slightly, his mouth agape in shock and fear, his gaze locked on the face that still looked like Alastor, but wasn't him anymore.

Alastor seemed to be struggling to remain present, but his melodic voice was increasingly drowned out by Kalfu's.

"Alastor will have a place for you, Lucifer," the demonic voice overtook his completely. "But only if you act. You must kill Lilith... you're the only one who can."

Meanwhile, Vox hadn't missed a thing. He had control over the city, and of course, he knew exactly what was happening in his own home. But he could feel himself losing control, his grip on reason slipping, and all he felt was a burning jealousy...

[raisoramizu]

Alastor and Lucifer are taking a nap ❤️‍🩹

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[raisoramizu]

RadioapplefarmerAU

SberryRadio (@SberryRadio on X and Bluesky) created this beautiful little comic based on my Radioapple AU—RadioapplefarmerAU!

You can find the artist here:

X - https://x.com/SBerryRadio Bluesky - https://bsky.app/profile/sberryradio.bsky.social

I think I might write a fanfiction about it when I have the time. What do you think? Would you like to read a Radioapple fanfiction set in 1930s Italy?

You can also follow me on my socials to get free access to the spicier Radioapple content (otherwise, Tumblr might ban me xD).

X - https://x.com/Raima_chan Bluesky - https://bsky.app/profile/raisoramizu.bsky.social

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Chapter 8: The Game of Shadows

Hazbin Hotel Fanfic "New Order" (Radioapple/Radiostatic/Radiostaticapple) - Previous Chapter: Intro - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 Follow me on Bluesky or X - Raisoramizu

https://x.com/Raima_chan https://bsky.app/profile/raisoramizu.bsky.social

The images for this fanfiction are for illustrative purposes only, and all credits go to their respective artists.

Thanks to Lucifer's sudden call, Alastor had avoided the worst-case scenario. Since then, Vox had easily managed to deter Valentino from any violent intentions, thanks to the very real fear the Moth—rightly—felt toward the King. It wasn't hard to convince him to meet alone; yes, he would meet by himself—no Velvette, no security guards, no employees. He couldn't afford anyone else knowing what was going on. In the thirty minutes he had, he managed to get himself and Alastor back in shape. He brought Alastor along for safety, but had no intention of letting Lucifer see him. Unless, of course, things took a bad turn—and right now, they were very dangerous.

The Voxtek tower was a massive structure of steel and glass, rising in the heart of the infernal city next to Valentino's headquarters, dominating the skyline of Pentagram City with its ruthlessly modern design. The flickering lights of numerous external screens, endlessly broadcasting commercials and infernal programs, pulsed like a twisted heart beating in sync with Vox's power and influence. The automatic doors slid open with a metallic hiss as Lucifer, his expression icy, stepped inside the tower. He was dressed to the nines in his signature red-and-white pinstripe suit, hat, and his cane with the apple handle, but the severe look and the faint signs of weariness around his golden eyes betrayed that something was deeply troubling him. Behind him, a few security Sinners exchanged nervous glances; it was the first time they'd ever seen Lucifer visit a place like this, and the oppressive aura he exuded seemed to weigh down the very air. As he crossed the main lobby, Vox's face appeared on one of the screens mounted on the walls. His face filled the monitor, wearing a smile so wide it almost looked sincere.

"Welcome, Lucifer! It's an honor to have you here at Voxtek. It's not often we receive such... distinguished visitors." His voice was vibrant, amplified through hidden speakers throughout the structure. Despite the seemingly cordial tone, there was a hint of nervousness hiding behind the smile projected on the screen.

Lucifer didn't respond. His golden gaze cut through the screen like a sharp blade as he walked forward, deliberately ignoring the demon's virtual presence. When he reached the main elevator, the doors opened immediately, as if the tower itself was afraid to delay his ascent. Security remained in the lobby while he stepped into the elevator without looking back, staring straight ahead as the doors slid shut with a hiss. As the elevator rose, Vox reappeared on the screens inside the cabin, his image slightly distorted by the camera angle. The TV Demon seemed less confident now, but he couldn't afford to show weakness.

Lucifer remained silent throughout the ride, his gaze fixed on the door, both hands resting on the apple-shaped handle of his cane planted firmly on the ground. He never once met Vox's eyes, even though the Sinner was clearly trying to catch his attention. He had resumed his best mask of detachment, unshakable calm, coldness—the same demeanor with which he faced this hell that had always been a burden on his soul.

How many things had he seen and lived through in ten thousand years? He thought nothing and no one could ever touch him again; he cared only for his family, and nothing else. And now? Now Lilith was showing a side of herself that... but who was he kidding? He knew exactly what his wife was like—selfish, ruthless... maybe things had worked out because he'd been indifferent, and now... with a Sinner? Absurd.

His closeness to Charlie had shaken him; she'd managed to remind him of the hopes and dreams he had locked away in a dark drawer. She had shown him that light he thought was extinguished forever. But Lilith... Lilith didn't know, couldn't understand. She was the one who assured him she would take care of Charlie—by sending Alastor to the Hotel—and that he didn't need to get involved.

But he had. He let himself be swayed by his love for her, by her insistence, by her plea for help. He should've talked to Lilith. This was all her fault again: not only was she failing to support Charlie, but he was also avoiding confronting his wife, creating even more problems for Alastor.

He was a damned coward. Maybe he deserved Hell, or maybe Hell itself had made him this way. He had never been afraid of his ideas, of sharing the gift of Free Will with Eve, and look at what happened—he had brought evil to Earth, opened a chasm he was now confined to, condemned for eternity to deal with people like him, people who abused their power to choose. They chose evil, and so did he. He only knew how to make the wrong decisions. When you can't choose, it's better not to choose at all, right?

The ding of the elevator doors snapped him back to reality and the top floor of the tower. The doors opened onto a wide hallway lined with glossy blue tiles, while the walls were covered with screens showing silent ads or various programs being aired on different channels. There were no other doors except the one at the end, about fifteen feet away. He walked toward it, and as he reached it, the door slid open on its own, allowing him to step inside. The room, bathed in shadows, was large and probably took up most of that floor. The lights illuminating it were mostly blue neon strips placed haphazardly, including a gigantic aquarium that spanned the entire far wall. At the end of the long glass table, standing beside a black leather chair, was Vox, his hands clasped behind his back.

Lucifer stared at the TV Demon, who was dressed in his navy blue tuxedo. He could feel Alastor's presence, and looked around. He didn't own Alastor's soul, so he couldn't know exactly where he was, but he was here. Around them, there were a couple more doors, modern shelves, a few small tables emitting light through thin neon strips with scattered knick-knacks, a couple of plants, and demon sharks with bioluminescent electronic tattoos swimming behind the Sinner.

"Welcome! Please, have a seat!" Vox broke the silence with enthusiasm, gesturing grandly toward the chairs with his right hand while his left remained behind his back. He was sweating. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, but didn't let any of his negative emotions show—he was a master at pretending, even if this time, it was with great effort. He had too much on his plate, and his smile was starting to feel heavy.

"Can I get you something to drink...? Perhaps some wine from Hell's finest reserves? I hear you're quite the connoisseur!" Lucifer found himself standing still, just behind the backrest of the head chair opposite Vox's. "Where is Alastor?" The CEO's mouth twitched downward for a split second in apprehension, but it was brief, and he quickly plastered his wide smile back on. "Oh, Alastor? You're here for him...?" He paused. "He's busy finishing up the preparations for the Podcast." Vox lied, stretching his smile even wider. Lucifer stiffened, glaring at him. "He's here. I can feel him." "You... feel him?" Vox felt a dangerous realization sink in, his heart skipping a beat. "Right... I'll have him called. Why don't you sit and we can talk in the meantime...?" Vox said, arching his eyebrows calmly as he took a few steps around the table toward Lucifer. He only managed to take two steps, gesturing once more toward the chair. On the third step, however, something stopped him. He looked down: glowing wires were wrapped around his ankles, coming from the floor. He looked back up at Lucifer, terrified.

Lucifer was still staring at him, standing in the exact same position, leaning on his cane, and looking at him with burning, angry eyes. "Don't play games with me!" Lucifer growled, stiffening and blowing smoke from his nostrils, his eyes filling with red as Vox was yanked to the ground by the magical wires.

Vox found himself sitting on the floor, his antennae sparking as he groaned, but instinctively, electricity ran down his spine in a shudder of fear, forcing him to immediately look up: Lucifer was standing over him, nearly between his open legs, with his cane—horizontal—behind his back, and still glaring at him with fiery eyes.

"You call him now, or I..." he continued with a demonic voice, transforming his smile into a sharp, twisted expression.

"...destroy all your SHIT!" he roared, gripping his cane tightly as an explosion of magic erupted from him, shattering all the television screens in the room in a shower of sparks and electricity, cracking the wall opposite the outer windows.

Vox jumped, his eyes wide. The situation was turning out worse than expected; he had never seen or heard of reactions like this from Lucifer, except for the intervention during the last extermination. Not that he knew him personally; in fact, this was the first time they had met. However, he had studied him extensively and knew Lucifer was usually detached, uninterested, and not inclined toward social life, especially in the past seven years since Lilith had disappeared. And now, here he was, disregarding etiquette, with no intention of talking—just destruction to find... Alastor. He knew exactly why Lucifer was there, but after swallowing hard, he decided to lie again.

"Eh-heh-heh..." He laughed nervously, forcing a smile and keeping his red eyes fixed on the upper part of the screen to compensate for the height difference; the angel was short, but in that position, he towered over him. "There's no need for this reaction; if you wanted to meet Alastor, you just had to say so, make an appointment with—"

"...with me ~" At that exact moment, Alastor's figure reappeared from the shadows behind Vox, towering over the demon on the ground and even Lucifer, who widened his eyes, lifting his chin to take in the full length of his body until he locked onto his face. A wave of fear hit his chest, immediately forcing him back into his human form.

"...Alastor." He gasped. The demon seemed like his usual self. Was he really the same? He had that almost triangular smile, the perfectly groomed bobbed hair, and his suit no longer had frayed edges at the bottom of his jacket. He seemed like a new Alastor, charming, confident—if it weren't for the pink substance dripping from his mouth and those eyes... those eyes that had always betrayed his emotions. Now, they were empty.

"By now," the Half-Deer began, "I shouldn't be surprised by your ~ unsuitable ~ reactions ~" He emphasized the last word with a more intense radio distortion in his voice. "...to the role you play. To your... inappropriate behavior." He added with detached sarcasm, casually inspecting his nails with one hand while keeping the other behind his back. "Yet, you never fail to amaze me."

Lucifer felt his shoulders grow heavy. "...but, you disappeared suddenly, and we found you here. Everyone's worried at the Hotel, and..." He took a step forward, trying to reach the red demon, moving around Vox, who was still on the ground, staring in shock. Alastor promptly blocked him by placing his palm in front of his chest, without touching him.

"...and so?" He asked, lifting his chin as if to look down on him even more, forcing Lucifer to lower his eyes. "...Did I make a deal with anyone at the Hotel, with you, to end up trapped there? Why should I notify you of what I do with my existence...?" He arched his eyebrows curiously.

Lucifer stared at him, stunned.

Alastor lowered his gaze toward Vox's feet, still bound by the golden ropes. "Why don't you let him go...?"

The angel jolted, taking a few steps back before freeing the TV Demon from his grip. Vox pulled his legs back, placing both hands on the ground, and rose to his feet with an irritated expression. He briefly adjusted his hat and bow tie. "No problem, Your Majesty!" He smiled again, apparently sincerely. "...I completely understand what it feels like to be worried about someone you care about, but as you can see, Alastor is perfectly fine!" He said, spreading his arms slightly.

Alastor, with a calm, gentle smile, took two steps to stand beside Vox again, almost brushing against his side. The TV Demon wrapped that side with an arm, pinching the red fabric of Alastor's jacket with his blue claws.

The Half-Deer blushed slightly on his cheeks, his gaze growing more languid, overwhelmed by the love filter still coursing through his body, dripping from his jaws.

"You... you... you're hypnotizing him!" Lucifer burst out, tensing up, the corners of his mouth turning downward as he fixed his gaze on the exact spot where Vox held his hand. He took a step forward, leaning provocatively and aggressively toward the TV Demon, who jumped, terrified. "Do you think I'm that stupid?! That I wouldn't notice? If he wasn't manipulated by you, he would've already summoned me..." His smile stretched, becoming threatening with a touch of amusement. "But now we're going to fix this whole damn mess!" Behind Vox's figure, numerous pale enchanted eyes began to appear.

In an instant, Alastor intervened again: "...Are you sure ~?" He asked kindly, drawing the angel's attention. "Are you sure I would've called you to hang around and deal with your emotional crises? Your weaknesses so intense that they put me in danger? Because yes, Lucifer, if I'm here, it's your fault."

The Seraphim felt like he was sinking.

"Now..." Alastor continued, spreading both hands limply toward him in a theatrical gesture of surrender. He took a step forward, keeping his chin slightly raised, staring down at him with wide-open eyes that swirled hypnotically, identical to Vox's eye. "...You have the power to do anything. Destroy this place, annihilate Vox, bring me back to the Hotel. You have the power to force me—and Hell itself—to bend to your every whim..." Another step forward, as Lucifer grew increasingly tense, filled with panic. "...Why don't you ~?" He sizzled musically, his voice distorted.

"Ah! Eh-heh-heh..." But Vox interrupted everything with a sudden, frightened reaction, placing a hand on the Half-Deer's chest. "Al... calm down, eheh..." He continued to chuckle nervously, surprised by the reaction. Was he really surprised, or was he pretending? "I'm sure that our..." He paused, giving Lucifer a smile. "Sovereign," he said, gesturing fluidly with his hand, "knows exactly what the right actions are to take." He began moving cautiously toward him.

He was studying him. Lucifer was more easily manipulated than he had thought, but he knew why: Alastor was his Achilles' heel. He was Vox's too. That's how the angel's detachment crumbled—just like how Vox, thanks to the Half-Deer, couldn't make calculated moves anymore. We're the same in this, Lucifer, tied to the same string. But now, Vox had the upper hand. Alastor followed his orders, and damn, he was a trickster who knew exactly what to say and do to turn any situation to his advantage. "I see the tension rising; why don't we try to relax and talk it out...? I'm sure we can come to a solution that works for both of us, or... all three of us," he said, shooting a glance at Alastor, who was proudly smiling back at them.

Lucifer, on the other hand, was frozen. He was confused, unsure of what to do; he couldn't think of anything logical or sensible. His mind was in chaos—emotions, feelings, thoughts—and he felt like he was going to explode. He wanted to help him, needed help, but did he really want it? Was it true that Alastor wanted to be here, that he had already abandoned him... just like...?

!? The Seraphim's dazed gaze on the Half-Deer's figure jumped when he felt Vox's hand grab his back. !! He snapped furiously, focusing on the large blue claws of the demon fluttering over the white fabric of his jacket before wrapping softly around his shoulder, then darted back up to the opposite side, landing on Vox's TV face.

The TV Demon had sidled up next to him and was now semi-curved on his right; he looked at him with a friendly smile, eyebrows arched, and jaws fully exposed. He was damn close—too close—and he was touching him. How dare he touch him? Lucifer stiffened, feeling the irresistible urge to sink his claws into that damn screen of a face, but he didn't. Alastor was there, motionless. He stood, watching them, smiling strangely, languidly, and drooling. At that closeness, Lucifer could smell the metallic scent, like steel cables, from Vox, but also the sweeter smell coming from the Half-Deer. What have they done to you, Alastor? Are you you, or are you not you?

Those thoughts led him to feel a mix of sadness and despair; how much he missed him. He wanted to touch him, to embrace him. The butterflies in his stomach had turned into cockroaches choking his throat; he was obsessed. And he wasn't the only one.

The TV Demon began walking, trying to coax him to follow. He did. He could feel the Sinner's shoulder brush against his side, and the rapid beating of his heart; he was clearly tense, though he tried not to show it. Lucifer, on the other hand, was drained. He didn't know what to do. What would Charlie do? She would certainly have listened, so he allowed himself to be nudged along, not resisting except to show his discomfort—his body rigid—at that invasive touch that crossed into his personal space. He followed along the table, moving toward the massive wall-aquarium, where the sharks continued to swim peacefully in those dark currents, illuminated only by the blue hues of the neon lights inside.

"Regardless of the reason, or our little misunderstanding, it's an honor to have you here, Lucifer." Vox resumed speaking, alternating his gaze between the angel's face and the aquarium they were approaching. "You know about Voxtek, right? My immense company. We've practically monopolized all the TV channels in Hell... we even broadcast in the other circles!"

"Mmh, nope." Lucifer replied bluntly, after thinking for a moment. "I don't know it."

That response hit Vox like a punch to the gut, his gaze faltering for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Oh, that's a real shame, but now we have a chance to fix that. After all..." He paused, glancing at Alastor, who remained in place, simply rotating his face and body to follow the direction the two were moving. "...Alastor has joined us Vees, completing our media monopoly..."

But Lucifer was staring at the aquarium with the sharks. "Do you like them? Want to touch them?" Vox asked, smiling again after a brief hesitation.

There was no response from Lucifer, but his gaze shifted toward Alastor.

Vox noticed the look, his mouth tightening as he withdrew his hand from the angel's shoulder, now standing in front of the aquarium. "I understand what you want," he said, turning toward Alastor, who met his eyes with an eloquent look. The Sinner stared at him for a moment, confused, then began to move, almost automatically, to join them; his footsteps echoed across the floor in the silence of that room, broken only by Vox's voice, which grew enthusiastic again. He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "And there's no problem, Lucifer. Everything is yours; you are our Sovereign... and even though Alastor prefers to stay here, you'll see you haven't lost anything. You still have what you desire."

It wasn't clear if Lucifer was even listening to Vox's words; the moment the Half-Deer started moving in his direction, Lucifer began to stare at him more intensely, filled with dread. He turned toward him, waiting, but stiff, as if he expected something dangerous. Indeed, it was with apprehension and a strange shyness—the embarrassment from the situation and from the words he'd just received from the red Sinner—that he looked at him, his cheeks warming from his lowered position.

Alastor stopped half a step away from him; he was so close that Lucifer could clearly smell him, something different than usual. He felt his heart in his throat, but the other demon smiled with sharp eyes.

"Relax, Your Majesty ~" the demon whispered musically, softly wrapping his red claws around one of his cheeks in a cold caress.

Lucifer shuddered at the touch, then melted, covering the back of the demon's hand with his dark fingers; he pressed his face against his palm, seeking more contact, his eyelids lowering.

"How can I relax? This is all so absurd..."

"Yes," Alastor immediately replied, bending toward him, close to his face, until the darker roots of his swaying red hair brushed against Lucifer's skin. "...and now's the perfect time to let go. Isn't this what you desire? To let someone else decide for you, someone you can trust blindly. No duties, no thoughts, just peace, joy, and pleasure..." He stripped the radio effect from his voice on the final word, which vibrated directly against Lucifer's lips, so close that the Seraphim felt himself sinking.

Lucifer fell, only to rise again on a wave of heat that made his mouth part easily at the intrusion of Alastor's thumb. The demon slid the finger across his forked tongue, immersing himself in the damp heat that was already bubbling up with his breath, while his other arm wrapped around his back, pulling him against his body.

Meanwhile, Vox stood frozen beside them, his eyes wide as he stared at the scene unfolding before him. He had been the one to command Alastor to make that contact, but seeing them like that—it was terrible. Or was it wonderful? He was getting warm. A heat that rose until it painted a blush on his screen when the Half-Deer began kissing the angel; he saw him clutch at Lucifer's blond hair with one hand and invade his mouth with his tongue, while all around them, from the floor, a myriad of tiny tentacles writhed, yearning to break free.

The Radio Demon was completely under his control, but it wasn't all his doing: it was Lilith. He wouldn't have been able to do so much, while still maintaining that highly manipulative personality he had. It was perfect. He seemed like himself, but wasn't himself. He was fully aware of the emotional power he held over Lucifer, and he had used it to twist the situation in his favor; all it took was a cue, and there he was, solving everything. Not that the problem had gone away entirely, but at least the angel no longer had destructive instincts and was getting what he wanted, after all...

"I'm right here ~" Alastor piled on, hissing in Lucifer's ear. He leaned down to him, sliding his still saliva-slick lips across his skin and burying them in his blond hair; he tightened his grip, and Lucifer clutched at his shoulder, trembling and gasping.

"I'm sorry..." he panted through trembling lips. He was sorry for their fight, for not understanding his turmoil, for clinging to those shoulders that, at that moment, weren't strong enough to support him. If he had been less selfish, less demanding, if he had respected Alastor's space and boundaries, they wouldn't be here now, but at the hotel, trying to solve that damn pact that tied him to Lilith.

But the Half-Deer continued: "...soon Hell and Heaven will collapse, but that's fine. It's what you wanted, right..? So what does it matter? Just let it flow."

"..?" At those words, Vox's mouth twisted. What was Alastor saying? But he didn't have time to process it, because, in an instant, the Half-Deer had sunk his teeth into Lucifer's neck.

Lucifer's hat fell off as his eyes widened, not putting up any resistance, the kind he could have easily mustered to prevent being hurt by mere fangs, as the Sinner bit deep into his flesh, drawing blood. Golden blood, which he began to drink noisily, while his grip became firm, violent, bending Lucifer backward as he leaned forward over his chest.

The angel trembled; a moan of pleasure escaped him, and his pupils dilated with a perverse thrill as his body was already being enveloped by the tentacles that slithered up his limbs, lifting him slightly off the ground. One of them had grabbed his cane and was waving it in the air.

Vox blushed even more; an emotion gripped his chest, sticking in his throat. What a situation. What an absurd, splendid situation. Lucifer, fragile, succumbing in this way to Alastor's voracity; so that was their relationship? The Half-Deer devoured him, and Lucifer got excited being eaten? Absurd and hilarious, damn it. They were perfect together, complementing each other's deviations; that's why Alastor didn't need aphrodisiacs or love potions. What could excite him more than drinking the blood and eating the flesh of a Higher Angel? This was a gift given solely to him in all of creation because no one else had that opportunity.

But now the Radio Demon was his, and it was truly exciting to have them there, writhing, watching Lucifer in that state, clutching at his shoulders and squirming as the other demon ripped his clothes apart and shredded his flesh, even swallowing pieces of it. He didn't want to share Alastor with anyone, but sharing Lucifer with Alastor? How tempting.

He reached out a hand, wrapping it around the trembling shoulders of the Red Demon, looking down at Lucifer's pleasure-stricken face, twisted in a mix of fear and ecstasy, as he drooled and panted even at the grasp of the slimy tentacles that had now worked their way under his clothes.

Vox smiled, sinister and drooling in turn. "See? Everything's fine," he whispered, his voice distorted by an error in his speakers, lifting the pretty jester-like face with his claws. "...and you can relax whenever you want," he added, before plunging his wide, wet blue tongue into the angel's throat, making his golden eyes widen.

…

[raisoramizu]

[raisoramizu]

Gladiator x Emperor AU

Confirmed Au’s

♦Au: Gladiator x Emperor

♦Creators: @ashirotyan | 🦋 | X

♦When this man came into the arena, covered in red, as if already drenched in the blood of his opponents, Lucifer realised that the rumours had not been exaggerated. The Emperor's heart twitched, anticipating a change in fortune he hadn't even suspected yet. Although what but 'this' could bring together the lives of the awkward ruler of the empire and the best gladiator of the capital?

Bsky || Twitter || Instagram

📻WEBSITE 🍎FAQ

SUMBIT AUs

[raisoramizu]

We have Radioapple AU!

Set in 1930s Italy, let me introduce you to the #RadioapplefarmerAU

@SBerryRadio will be drawing a short comic. Thanks for giving credit to my nonsense!

[raisoramizu]

i cant NOT draw them even if i tried hhhhh

vox

[raisoramizu]

Lucifer is so uniquely written to me. Because he's just so realistic to how people with depression act. Why? Because he's the sillliest character in the show! He's such a silly lil guy!

Lucifer is literally me. Our personalities match, we're both short, and we both don't really care for Alastor that much.

I wanna marry this man💛

Hazbin Hotel, Lucifer: Vivziepop

[raisoramizu]

I’m announcing the start of #HazbinShipsWeek from March 21 to March 27, 2025, to celebrate the unity of the Hazbin Hotel fandom when it comes to ships.

Unique or popular, every ship matters!

Repost and have fun, let’s kick off spring!

X: Raima_chan

Bluesky: Raisoramizu

[raisoramizu]

Undertale x Hazbin hotel

[raisoramizu]

More sprites! Lmk Ur headcannon

[raisoramizu]

Chapter 7: Lucifer's Intervention

Hazbin Hotel Fanfic "New Order" (Radioapple/Radiostatic/Radiostaticapple) - Previous Chapter: Intro - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 Follow me on Bluesky or X - Raisoramizu

https://x.com/Raima_chan https://bsky.app/profile/raisoramizu.bsky.social

The images for this fanfiction are for illustrative purposes only, and all credits go to their respective artists.

..

Despite Vox's commanding presence on the screen, Lucifer's gaze remained locked on the slightly glitchy image of Alastor. No matter how much he stared, he couldn't make sense of the details or notice the oddities. The jealousy tearing him apart blinded him to the obvious.

Charlie and Vaggie, however, had noticed the change the day before when they had crossed paths with Alastor at Vox's studio. As Vox continued with his broadcast, Charlie cast a worried glance toward her father.

They were in one of the CEO's broadcasting studios. Behind the scenes, a large group of technicians buzzed around, managing the show. Valentino lounged in a shadowed corner, smoking, one arm wrapped around his torso as his glowing red eyes followed Vox's every move on set. His golden tooth gleamed in the dim light as he chuckled softly, though his grin was anything but amused. His attention shifted to Alastor, focusing on the telltale pink hue coloring his features.

Vox gestured with his usual enthusiasm, the curious bandage on his screen drawing attention.

"As I mentioned earlier, the podcast will air twice a week, but here at Vox Channel, we always care about our dear viewers." He spread his arms wide. "So, you can vote from home on what the first topic should be! As I list them, they'll appear on your screen. Call the number, send an SMS, or visit our website!"

Vox's magnetic voice reverberated through the studio, each word carefully chosen to keep the audience hooked. His smile was very different from the one he wore in private, especially over the last few days since Alastor had been with him. His eyebrows were raised, his mouth soft, trying to exude trust—and it worked. Trust us.

"The topics will range from why the future is better than the past," he announced as the colorful title "Why the Future is Better Than the Past" flashed across the screen, "to strategies for maximizing profit from moral corruption."

As Vox casually gestured, outlining the podcast program, he felt something cold and slick brush against his calf under the table. Alastor, still smiling, his chin resting softly on his knuckles, drooled faintly, his eyes glazed over. He was completely gone, drunk on something otherworldly, too serene. Anyone who knew him well might have noticed if they weren't blinded by their own rage or depression.

A shadowy tendril coiled around Vox's ankle, snaking up his leg. Vox stiffened but kept his composure.

"Ah-ah, another episode will focus on the art of mass entertainment and how to manipulate audience perception," Vox continued, though beneath the table, he was desperately shaking his leg, trying to dislodge the slimy thing. But Alastor was relentless. The tendril crept further, slithering up Vox's thigh.

Vox's smile began to twitch, a sheen of sweat visible on his screen. In a split second, his mouth dipped so low it nearly vanished off his face as he glanced down, spotting the slimy appendage coiling around his groin under the fabric of his pants. He darted his eyes back to Alastor, who maintained his blissful expression, seemingly lost in another world.

"We'll also discuss... ehm... maximizing the potential of your subordinates. Eh-eh..." A ding announced the next topic, just as a spark of electricity shot between Vox's antennae, right above his cap, when the tendril curled into his pants, slipping past the waistband. Not only that, but something else was sliding under his pants leg, snaking up from his sock to his bare skin.

What the hell was Alastor doing? Was he awake? ... Maybe he had given him too much of Valentino's crap, turning him into a monster worse than him. He shouldn't have dosed him that morning. Not before the interview. Or maybe it was Lilith's doing—after all, the pact said Alastor would be his without much effort, right? But now? Was this Alastor finally his, stripped of all sexual restraint? A beast with an affable face that would molest him in inappropriate places, and that he'd have to keep in check to avoid getting sodomized at every opportunity?

It was exhausting. And now? Valentino.

He was in the backstage. Damn it, why had he gotten himself into this mess? He didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity or cry from the pressure. Between Lilith, Lucifer, and Valentino... he was going to explode.

But at least he could still screw Alastor. After today, he'd bend him over. How dare he?

Too many thoughts. The room had gone silent, and the Stag Demon finally spoke. His voice, calm and almost cheerful, broke through the tension: "And don't forget our special segment on making infernal contracts far more... enticing."

The tendril wrapped tightly around Vox's crotch, moving beneath the fabric, causing his pants to bulge as another slipped lower, seeking a more intimate position. Vox clenched his jaw, his smile stretching unnaturally as he pressed his shoes into the ground, his butt planted firmly on the chair to block its advance. But the slick tendril rubbed insistently against his growing hardness, making him shudder. His screen flushed with red, and he shot out a hand, gripping Alastor's shoulder tightly, causing the demon to jolt, his chin slipping from his hands.

"Al-Alastor! You forgot the songs... you wanted... to sing, right?" Vox's voice cracked as he turned to the demon, his hypnotic right eye flaring wide.

... Alastor froze, his eyes locking with Vox's, wide open. "AH!" he exclaimed, his mouth widening into a radio whistle. "Oh yes, of course ~." The tendrils retreated instantly, disappearing into the shadows beneath him. "You'll hear my lovely voice in song as well." He turned back to the cameras, creating deep interference on his image as the ding announced the next segment, "Exclusive Songs from the Radio Demon."

Vox collapsed back into his chair, legs splayed. They should crown him King of Problem Solving for the shit he had to deal with.

This time, Lucifer had clearly seen what was happening, at least when it came to the tentacles; a cold grip clenched his stomach, a sudden and burning nausea flaring up as he stared at the TV. His expression, initially one of surprise, twisted into a mix of disbelief and fury. Alastor's calm and detached smile, coupled with his obvious closeness to Vox, ignited a spark of anger that quickly turned into a wildfire. His face began to change: his eyes grew darker, the whites of them turning red, and thin golden smoke rose from his horns.

"What kind of game is this?" he muttered, his voice thick with poisonous resentment, vibrating through the air like distant thunder. His tail slithered behind him, crackling with an almost electric tension.

"Dad...?" Charlie called out to him, concerned, moving closer in an attempt to snap him out of it. She knew those signs well; her father was on the verge of an explosion, and that kind of anger would only cause more problems. "Dad, please, come on." Her voice softened as she placed a hand on his arm to calm him. "It's no use watching this... but you need to step in. Alastor isn't himself."

Lucifer's demonic and confused gaze fell on the hand his daughter had placed on his arm. "What do you mean, he isn't himself?"

Charlie let out a loud sigh. "Aaahk." She slapped her forehead in frustrated exhaustion. "Can't you see it?!" Lowering her head between her shoulders, she gestured toward the TV with both hands. "Does that look like Alastor to you? Hosting a live podcast on the internet, with video?!" Her voice rose as she suddenly darkened the whites of her eyes, tilting her head to the side in a poor imitation of the Radio Demon. "'I've got a face for radio!~'"

Lucifer stared at her, bewildered.

"You should know him better than I do!"

That line hit the angel hard, like a stab wound, draining all the fire from him and returning him to his natural— and slightly disheveled—human form. "...Maybe... maybe I don't know him at all," he muttered, his golden gaze lowering to the floor.

Charlie's expression hardened in anger, her eyebrows knitting together as her mouth tightened in frustration. "OH, Dad!" she snapped. She grabbed his shoulders with both hands and started pushing him out of the kitchen. "...That's enough. Let's go get some breakfast, and we'll talk it over." She guided him toward the bar, which doubled as the dining room for guests. She shot a glance at Vaggie, who immediately straightened up like a soldier, nodding and gathering plates and glasses before following them.

Charlie led Lucifer to a seat while Vaggie set the table for breakfast. Husk was behind the bar, as usual, and Niffty was bustling around with no clear purpose. Angel Dust sauntered in, yawning loudly.

"Eat something, come on..." Charlie urged her father, watching him anxiously as he stared blankly into space.

He wasn't the only one lost in thought; the atmosphere in the room was off. It was usually a place of laughter and chaos, but now, silence reigned. Husk quietly wiped a glass, and Niffty had seemingly vanished. Charlie looked around in confusion, her eyes landing on Angel Dust, who didn't seem inclined to join them at the table. "...Angel, aren't you coming to have breakfast with us?" she asked.

"Eehk... nah, Charlie. I think I'll head back to the studio today."

"You've got work?"

"No, but," the spider demon paused in the middle of the room, one hand resting seductively on his exposed hip while the other ran irritably through his platinum hair, "I'm just wasting time here. If I worked more for Val, I could afford my own place. I'm not cut out for redemption, it's bullshit, you know that, Charlie."

Charlie's eyes widened as Vaggie, equally shocked, stood beside her.

"The spider's got a point," Husk chimed in, his deep voice breaking the silence as he slammed the empty glass onto the counter. He tossed aside the rag he had been using, spreading his red-and-white wings wide and crossing his arms over his chest. "...I'm only here because that horned bastard made me. But it looks like he's decided to have fun with that rectangular-faced freak. I'm made for chaos, for freedom, not a place like this."

"Wh-what are you saying, Husk?" Charlie stammered, her voice wavering as she stepped forward, while Vaggie tried to calm her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "...I thought you cared about us. Didn't you say that? We fought angels together!" she shouted.

"I'm tired of being treated like I'm crazy! Ahaahuae!" Niffty's voice rang out, cutting through the moment and whatever response the cat demon might have given. "Why should I clean a place that doesn't appreciate me?!"

Charlie's eyes widened. "What are you talking about? Who doesn't appreciate you?!" she asked, but the room fell silent once more before she suddenly stormed toward Lucifer—or rather, the table in front of him.

The angel was still sitting there, silent and passive, staring into the void as if he weren't even in the room. He snapped back to reality when the table in front of him flew across the room, sending everything on it crashing in all directions—in the chaos—thrown by none other than Charlie. When the Seraph lifted his golden eyes, startled and mouth slightly agape, he found his daughter transformed: her blonde hair had come loose, swirling in an invisible, hellish wind as she radiated heat. Her eyes were full of rage, black with red pupils, and her curved demonic horns gleamed. She was rigid, fists clenched at her sides. Now, she was the one who had exploded, and her anger was clearly directed at him.

"You need to act, Dad! And I don't mean smashing appliances in the hotel!" she yelled. "Don't you see what's happening? Something's wrong; there are no new guests, and everyone's losing it! I know... I know you've never cared about anything or anyone, that you wouldn't lift a finger if all our people burned..."

Charlie's voice rose as she screamed at him, creating an eerie silence in the room. Everyone was frozen, including Lucifer. The angel, in particular, felt a deep sense of panic clawing at his chest; he knew this feeling all too well—the rapid heartbeat, the shallow breaths, the heat pressing down on his head.

"...But if you won't do it for yourself, for Mom, for... Alastor... at least do it for... me!" she continued, trembling visibly with anger. "Don't you care about me at all? Why did you even come to live in the hotel then? You can just leave and..." She paused, her fury reaching its peak: "And swallow that useless Faith you still carry!"

Charlie's outburst was accompanied by a burst of flame from her hair and a slight shockwave that rattled a few chairs, but Vaggie's hand on her shoulder was once again calming.

Her partner soothed her with just a touch; Charlie's eyes widened as she realized what she had just said to her father, and her demonic form melted away. She brought both hands to her chest, guilt and fear flooding her as she looked at Lucifer, still frozen in place. The angel didn't move, his face a mask of shock.

"Oh, Dad, I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to," she stammered as Vaggie wrapped an arm around her, letting her melt into sobs. Her face flushed hot with shame, and her eyes filled with tears that quickly spilled down her cheeks as she shook with sobs and gasping breaths. She buried her face in her hands, then in Vaggie's shoulder, who hugged her tightly and started rubbing her back.

"It's okay, calm down... sometimes we break. We're not made of stone. Neither are you..."

"...This is what it means to be human, right?" Vaggie smiled at her, prompting Charlie to lift her tear-streaked face in surprise.

"...Oh..." Charlie murmured. "...That's beautiful, Vaggie... it's beautiful to be fragile sometimes, it's normal... ooooh, Vaggie, ooooh," she cried, wailing loudly under the embarrassed stares of everyone in the room, including Vaggie, who, after a few more pats on her blonde head, started guiding her toward the hallway. "Let's go rest for a while, come on," she said as Charlie continued sobbing.

As they moved, Vaggie passed by Lucifer, casting him a worried and meaningful look.

The angel hunched his shoulders and understood it all; with a sad and troubled expression, he took a step toward them, his hands instinctively reaching out as if to touch his daughter, but then he hesitated and let them fall. If Charlie had that mental breakdown, it was entirely his fault. He'd come here to help her, but instead, he kept causing her problems, lying to her, hiding the truth, drowning in his own self-pity, and only bringing her pain. She had held him up until now, fully aware that there were secrets she hadn't been told, and him...? What was he doing? He needed to do this for her. He needed to do it for himself, and damn it... he wanted Alastor. The demon would explain, down to the last detail, the reason behind all this behavior, even if Lucifer had to drag it out of him—along with his whole damn tongue.

The show had been over for a while, but Vox was still on edge. The air in his apartment at the top of his tower was thick with tension. It felt like the structure itself, alive with the latest electronic technology, was responding to his mood: the lights were dim, the wooden floor gleaming with metallic reflections, and the numerous TV screens in his personal studio were flickering with static images. The atmosphere was sinister, almost claustrophobic, loaded with distorted, oppressive energy that filled every corner.

The TV Demon paced back and forth like a caged panther in front of Alastor's still figure. The Radio Demon stood there, his backside leaning against the same mahogany table they'd had dinner—and done other things—on the night before; he wore the same blissful smile he'd shown during the broadcast, but his eyes were more glazed over, absent, and the flush on his cheeks betrayed the effects of the aphrodisiac still coursing through him.

Vox, on the other hand, was stressed. Not exactly angry, but close. The memory of Alastor's tentacle slipping under the table during the show, making him look like an idiot in front of the viewers, burned like acid. He'd tried to keep his composure, not to let on that anything was wrong while the Radio Demon messed with him with that blissful smile and unchanging expression, but the audience was sharp, and some viewers had noticed his embarrassment.

"I don't get it. Are you under my control, or are you just screwing with me?" he hissed, gripping the edges of the TV with his claws. He stopped just a step away from Alastor, raising his red eyes to meet his. "...Are you under my control?" He asked sharply, as if it were up to the other to tell him. A stupid question to ask someone under hypnosis, and yet...

"Yes, I'm yours, Vox~" Alastor crackled with his radio effect, stretching that smile, though it didn't quite match the lust-filled haze in his eyes.

At those words, the TV Demon froze, literally stunned, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide. On top of that, he blushed fiercely, enough to light up the screen and warm his skin. He'd never expected to hear something like that from Alastor—not just for him, but in general. It was a brief moment, and then he snapped out of it, filling up with anger again; he grit his teeth, narrowing his gaze. "Then why the hell did you pull that stunt? Huh? Think you can make me the laughingstock of your show?"

Alastor calmly pushed off the table, starting to approach him.

"...?" Vox stared, uncertain.

"Because I love provoking you. When you're with me, you're so pathetically emotional, especially when you lose control," he said, adding, "By the way... control that you think you have, but never really did." He gently placed his palm against Vox's chest.

"What are you saying?!" Vox snapped, but at that touch, he gulped.

Vox's heart was racing; he could feel it pounding against that touch, rising up past the collar of his vest, toward his bowtie, stiffening. "You get flustered, you blush, you sweat a ton, and you project it right on that flat screen of yours." Alastor's claw traced noisily along the dark edge of Vox's face. "And also..." He raised his red eyes toward Vox's cap. "...You get electrified."

It happened right then: the tip of Alastor's claw grazed the serrated antenna of the other Sinner, which lit up with crackling sparks. Alastor tensed, drooling even more of that pink substance from the light shock, and then he leaned in completely, gripping the sides of Vox's screen and kissing him.

He tilted his face, pressing against the screen, pushing his red tongue into the TV Demon's mouth, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Vox responded intensely, shoving his much broader, longer blue tongue into the Radio Demon's maw. The gesture heated him up, and he grabbed Alastor roughly by the hips.

"Heheh..." Vox chuckled nervously, slamming Alastor against the transparent aquarium wall in an instant, planting a knee between his legs. "...I'm not sure if I should take your words as a compliment or an insult." He paused. "Just to be safe, I'll make you pay for that little stunt earlier," he added in a menacing tone, breathing hotly into Alastor's mouth as he continued to hungrily lap at him, his tongue dangerously scraping against Alastor's yellowish fangs.

Alastor found himself pinned against the aquarium wall, his back pressed into the cold glass as Vox began grinding his hips into him. The Deer Demon started to pant, visibly more aroused than before, thanks to the drug clouding his eyes but igniting his instincts. He was scared; his mind was foggy, torn between frustration and desire. He couldn't form coherent thoughts or fully grasp the situation, like he was stuck in a dream: everything around him moved on its own, leaving him to make unconscious choices.

The water in the aquarium cast shimmering reflections on their figures, illuminated by the blue neon lights in the apartment, as well as the electronic symbols coursing through the bodies of the sharks. These creatures, more bizarre than anything found in the human world, swam en masse toward the glass, tapping all around Alastor as if they wanted to devour him.

But the one devouring him was the TV Demon, leaving bite marks even through Alastor's collar and jacket. On the floor, a myriad of tiny tentacles snaked toward the ceiling.

Vox was filled with an unease that had lingered since the moment he had captured Alastor. It was as if something inside him warned of an impending danger, that everything would collapse sooner or later. He lived in panic. An anxiety he had always heeded carefully, calculating every move and word for profit and power. Until now. Now, he couldn't listen to it anymore. Alastor was there, rubbing his need against the wall. He had slept with him and had every opportunity to do it again. He was under his control, maintaining his irritating cockiness, his lust for chaos that Vox both loved and hated, but now Alastor accepted anything Vox wanted to do with him—more than ever before. And Alastor was seeking him out.

Alastor had been the one to take Vox in when he first arrived in Hell. Alone and lost, Radio—already a powerful Overlord—had extended his hand to TV, and together they had gained more and more power. But Alastor rejected him; he was stuck in the past, unable to grasp the need to keep up with technology, with trends. He didn't return Vox's feelings; Alastor thrived in chaos, Vox in control. And this was the result: Alastor had lost much of his power and now needed to stay afloat. Lilith had offered him a special place under her; Hell would be theirs.

Velvette wasn't a problem. She was obsessed with social media, fashion, always riding the trends and even spotting them before anyone else. But Valentino...

Right then, Valentino barged in, smashing the door open, literally breaking the lock.

The Moth Demon stormed in, his red eyes narrow slits of fury, glaring at Vox and Alastor with a fiery jealousy that seemed to set the air ablaze around him.

"I knew it!" he snarled, the lower edges of his red coat flaring and splitting into wings, sending a shockwave across the room.

!! Vox barely had time to turn his terrified gaze toward Valentino before the shockwave hit him, ripping him off Alastor and hurling him violently against his desk. The impact shattered everything, including the TVs, which crashed down on him.

Alastor, suddenly free, stumbled forward a couple of steps but was immediately grabbed by Valentino's claws around his throat. The Moth Demon slammed him back against the glass wall with such force that a dangerous crack formed.

—~ The Deer Demon let out a distorted, painful radio static, his head bouncing off the wall as he found himself dangling nearly two meters above the floor.

Valentino was tall, much taller than him, and pinned him effortlessly with one arm raised even higher than his bald head. He was choking him; his grip so fierce that not only did his claws dig into Alastor's flesh, but it seemed like he might snap his neck or, worse, break the wall. Inside the tank, the sharks—momentarily startled by the impact—continued to gather around Alastor's figure.

"Maldito ciervo de mierda, ahora te empalo y luego te hago pedazos!" Valentino growled through clenched teeth, his golden fang glinting as his eyes narrowed into sinister, glowing red slits. Around him, thick pink smoke coiled from his mouth.

"Val!" Vox suddenly thundered, pulling himself up from the wreckage of sparking TVs. In a flash of lightning, he used the ceiling's electrical system to teleport next to Valentino.

Vox's face was a mask of rage and terror. He stood stiff, fists clenched, his heart pounding in his chest. He was frothing with fury, the bandage on his screen peeling back to reveal the damage from the previous night.

But Valentino didn't release Alastor, who had partially shifted into his demonic form with branched horns and black eyes with red pupils. He clung to Valentino's wrist with both hands and several tentacles, though they lacked the strength to break free. Valentino merely stomped on them, pinning them to the floor.

"Oh no, dear Voxy," Valentino hissed angrily. "I won't stand by while this cursed clown uses you for his own show!"

"He's hypnotized! He can't help it!" Vox shouted back.

"Hypnotized? He looks pretty awake to me, enough to try screwing you with those damn tentacles in front of all of Hell!" Valentino shot back.

Vox felt a jolt in his chest. This was Lilith's fault, but he couldn't tell Valentino about the deal. He couldn't risk his safety. "He's drugged. I've been dosing him with your love potion since last night."

"...?" Valentino raised an eyebrow, his expression turning puzzled as he glanced back at Alastor, looking him up and down. "Ah, right," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "...so you could screw him. Not okay with me," he growled.

"WE CAN... eheh-eh..." Vox interjected, cutting Valentino off before he could act. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch the Moth Demon but hesitating. "...We can do it together. That's the plan," he lied. He didn't want to share Alastor at all, but it was a better option than seeing him torn to pieces. "Think about it..." he added, his heart in his throat as Valentino stared at him, lips curling downward. "...How humiliating it would be for him. You could even film it." Vox grasped Valentino's shoulders with his claws. What was he saying? Now he remembered why he ended up in Hell.

"Mmh..." Valentino hummed. "Yeah... I've already got a title for the first film: 'Revenge of the Radio Souls.'" He grinned wickedly, flashing his gold tooth. "The demons trapped in his radio break free and take turns on him," Valentino said, his excitement growing as he turned his gaze back to Alastor. "...?!" But Alastor didn't seem to share the enthusiasm: his smile and joints had begun to show green acid stitching, the same color glowing from the massive magic circle, split by four crossed arrows, projected behind him onto the aquarium wall.

A distorted, grating sound filled their ears, coming from everywhere and pressing against their skulls. It was a piercing distortion, growing louder and louder, dragging with it a sense of anxiety and danger. It became increasingly unbearable as the room fell into darkness.

Valentino hunched slightly, clapping two of his hands over his ears with a grimace, while still pinning Alastor with the third. Vox went into a panic.

His panic erupted, silencing the noise, just as the TV Demon's body began to vibrate with an incoming call, PIRIPIRIPI, the ringing replacing his face on the screen. It was one of his employees. Everything returned to normal, including the blue neon.

Vox growled, stumbling backward a few steps, and answered the call, tossing it—no camera attached—onto one of the still-standing screens. His face reappeared on his own screen, while the sweaty face of his bespectacled employee appeared on the floor screen.

- "M-Mr. Vox!?" -

"What do you want? I'm busy," Vox replied, struggling to keep his voice calm.

- "Y-Yes, of course, but... uh... there's... um..." -

"Who the hell is it? Spit it out!"

- "Lucifer, sir!" -

The TV Demon and the Porn Moth froze.

- "The Ruler called just now. He said he'll be at Voxtek in half an hour to see you. Should I call back and tell him you're unavailable, sir?" -

Dead silence. The sound of Alastor's body dropping limply to the floor.

Valentino had let go of him but remained frozen, arm still outstretched and mouth agape. His red eyes darted toward Vox. "Lucifer?"

"No, it's fine, cancel all my appointments for today... all of them," the TV Demon replied, beginning to sweat again.

[raisoramizu]

Alastor - Salesman