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raisoramizu · 5 days ago

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Chapter 11: Lilith's Wrath

This is the eleventh chapter of my Hazbin Hotel fan fiction, "Heaven is Not Forever" Radioapple and Guitarspear. You can find the other chapters on my blog.

During Lute's recent visit, she hadn't realized just how immense it was. Maybe it felt bigger now because it was empty? Her heels echoed against the pale walls, adorned with divine paintings and large, watchful eyes. Those eyes were part of her creation, her guide, her protection... and yet, the apprehension gnawing at her chest remained. How could one live in Heaven with this constant fear? Perhaps it was because she was an angel, not a Winner—she was created to serve this place, not to enjoy its beauty. She was meant to protect it, to ensure that no written or moral laws were broken. She was the divine sword, the judge... or the accused?

She shuddered at the sound of wings behind her and stopped in the center of the grand hall, with its towering circular ceiling. Around her were the currently empty balconies, and in front of her—backed by the large golden double doors—was the one reserved for the Seraphim. There was no artificial light, nor any windows to let in natural light, and yet everything shone, including the figure of the High Seraphim, who landed softly before her.

Sera was tall, imposing. Her form was feminine but unnatural, with six large wings and chestnut-colored skin. She wore a flowing gown in shades of white, sky blue, and gray, and her halo resembled a crown. Lute's, on the other hand, was black and simple, like the standard uniform she wore. Her bobbed hair framed a tense face, her expression tightening into a nervous frown that deepened when Sera regarded her curiously with large blue eyes.

< Emily...? > the commander asked, glancing around. < She's not here. You'll have to make do with me, Lute, > Sera replied with soft assertiveness. < You want to talk about Adam again...? > A faint tension crept into her voice. < With all due respect, don't you care how he's doing? Aren't you going to do anything? > < And what would you have me do? > Sera's tone shifted as she placed one hand over the other at her waist. Raising her chin, she leveled a stern gaze at Lute, who was barely half her height. < Let's talk instead about how you learned he's in Hell. A tip-off from whom...? >

Lute flinched. < Do you have contacts with demons? > Sera pressed, but was met with silence. < Or do you think you can use the portal without me noticing? >

A wave of terror froze the exorcist in place. She staggered back, stunned, her mouth open as if trying to put some distance between herself and Sera, who hadn't moved but whose cold, severe gaze pierced her. < Yes... yes, I did! > Lute blurted out, finding a burst of courage, furrowing her brow and pointing to herself with her remaining hand. < But because I'm truly worried about him! Because... > She paused, pressing her lips together in a mix of anger and fear. < Because I care about him. > < Don't you care, Sera? How can you— > < Silence! > Sera's voice thundered, cutting her off. < Of course, I care, > she softened her tone to something gentle and comforting. She waved her long arm as if gesturing to everyone, though the room was empty. < And that is why I cannot be lenient when it comes to Divine Judgment. Adam wasn't judged by us; he died and was reborn directly into Hell. He's a demon. >

Lute took a step forward to confront her. < Emily told me about the guest at the hotel, the serpent who was reborn here as a Blessed! There's a chance Adam could be redeemed too! > At this revelation, Sera's gaze sharpened with disapproval, but she sighed and continued. < Apparently, that sinner earned Heaven just as Adam earned Hell. >

< You can't say that, Sera... I mean, with all due respect, High Seraphim, > Lute replied with the same frustration but quickly composed herself, standing at attention, her back rigid as she tried to find a tone more appropriate for the situation and her superior. < This is Adam. You know him. We can help him... maybe reevaluate our decisions. Perhaps... they weren't as correct as we thought. >

The angel turned, giving Lute her profile as she began to pace—or rather, float—around the room, her gown's hem fluttering just above the floor. < Not correct, you say? I know more... > She paused, bowing her head—her long gray curls cascading—and resting a hand on her forehead as if suddenly struck by a headache.

Lute went pale. Did she know it was Lilith, or were her insights incomplete? Fear took hold of her again, as if all the apprehension she had felt for months was about to boil over. Was this the moment everything would come crashing down? Ever since the Extermination... had she been waiting for this moment all along? < How long...? > Lute swallowed hard. < I've known for some time, and... > Sera froze, shooting her a piercing glance.

< Why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you stop it...? > The angel didn't answer immediately. She turned toward Lute, her cold gaze softening into an intense sorrow—a regret so vivid that Lute herself felt it weigh down on her. < Because I cared about Adam too, > Sera admitted, gently spreading her arms. < We all did. >

At that exact moment, to Lute's astonishment, the room began to fill with angels of the highest hierarchy: Thrones, Powers, Dominions. Born from beams of light, they flew toward the many balconies, each taking their place. The High Seraphim flapped her wings vigorously, ascending above the others to her rightful place as chief judge. She left Lute standing in the center of the hall, a small figure on the floor decorated with the enormous image of a ghostly eye.

Lute felt tiny, overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness and guilt. Had she made a mistake? Of course she had. Was this to be her day of judgment? Along with the guilt came anger—the frustration of knowing they wouldn't listen. She knew how trials worked: they had already made up their minds. That's why Sera had granted her request for this meeting.

With that last thought, all her tension drained away. She felt empty, devoid of any emotion except helplessness. < ...Lute, > Sera's voice brought her back to reality. Her hands still clasped at her waist, the angel stood motionless like an inhuman statue, staring down from the high court. Below her, the numerous balconies were filled with other angels. < This trial accuses you of being complicit in Adam's conspiracy against Heaven, > she announced. < What do you have to say in your defense? >

Lute looked around. Every angel's eyes were on her—some curious, some puzzled—but Sera's gaze... it was heavy. Why didn't you call Emily? Are you afraid of being contradicted? You bastard. Damn you.

She clenched her fist. < I'm guilty, > she declared, standing tall and lifting her chin, shocking the entire court. < Guilty of wanting to protect someone I care about, even at the cost of my duties... > She paused, her voice steady with the same passion that had always driven her. < ...of the good of Heaven, of the established order. > Her words rang with pride—pride she wouldn't let falter. It was all over. Adam was lost. She was lost.

Sera's gaze grew even colder, more distant, as if a wall of light had risen around her—light that swirled, opening countless blue eyes across her hair, forehead, chest, and robes. At that moment, it seemed every part of her was connected to the divine, as though she herself were made of pure mystical energy. < Based on this confession, with my authority as High Seraphim, I hereby sentence you to be cast out of Heaven. The Golden Gates will be closed to you forever, Lute. >

At these final words, terror exploded within Lute, shattering like the metallic clink of something falling to the ground. She looked down. Her black halo had fallen. She shuddered and raised her golden eyes once more to seek out Sera, only to find herself surrounded by a dozen sisters, hovering in the air, masked and with spears aimed at her.

I'm scared.

" < If you get yourself killed again, I'll drag you out of the Primordial Evil by the neck. > "

Lute's voice echoed in Adam's head just as Lilith's eyes flared with dark, black energy. All the exhaustion, pain, and the damn effects of her voice surged into a burst of fiery rage and strength. Tensing every muscle in his left arm, he tore through the enchanted ropes binding his wrist, bringing it up as a shield over his head just in time to block the spear.

The spear and part of its shaft pierced through the flesh and bone of his forearm, the tip stopping just shy of his forehead, right between his wide, blackened eyes. He stared in horror as a thin stream of blood trickled from a small scratch and then began dripping heavily from the spear.

Lilith's face had twisted into a demonic mask, radiating suffocating, cursed energy. Adam heard her growl, baring her sharp canines, and he channeled all that adrenaline—numbing his body to the pain—into the spear.

He pushed against it, forcing the weapon, and with it, Lilith, backward, slamming her into the wardrobe with such force that the doors shattered, sending her crashing noisily inside.

Panting heavily, Adam clenched his jaw, his face a mask of blood, sticky enough to glue his hair to his ram-like horns. He rolled onto his hands and knees, bracing himself with his right hand. < Fuck, I came way too close that time... > he muttered as he glanced at the door. The exit. He had to get out. He needed to get out of there.

Grimacing, he conjured his leathery wings, the sudden rush of air causing the TV to wobble dangerously. He dashed toward the door, ready to ram through it if he had to. But just as he was a mere foot away, Lilith's form reassembled amid swirling shadows, an amused, aggressive grin on her face as she raised the spear once again, aiming it at him.

< Where do you think you're going, little bug? ♫ > Her voice was singsong.

< !! > Adam felt the searing pain of all his wounds hitting him at once, just as the tip of the spear impaled his left shoulder, piercing straight throug

...

Meanwhile, Lucifer and Alastor were on their way back.

The Seraph was grinning from ear to ear, radiating joy as he chatted with the demon, who listened silently, his own ever-present grin plastered on his face. Though his mouth was closed, there was something genuine in the half-deer demon's smile, as his mismatched red eyes were focused on Lucifer's lively gestures, the angel even waving his apple-topped cane in the air.

< Ahh, I'm stuffed with all those sweets Rosie gave me... > Lucifer sighed, patting his vest over his stomach with a comically exaggerated exhaustion. < Delicious, I must say! >

< ...? > Alastor's smile faltered briefly. < Sweets? > he asked, his ears twitching slightly as a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. < Ohhh! The sweets... of course~ > he teased, his voice laced with a playful radio static. His smile stretched wider, but just as Lucifer stepped onto the first step leading to the hotel, his expression froze, eyes wide as if struck by a sudden jolt of electricity.

< What's wrong...? > Alastor barely got the question out when Lucifer shot him a glance, filled with palpable apprehension, before quickly conjuring a golden portal and stepping through it, sealing it shut behind him.

Alastor was left standing there, his smile frozen on his lips, eyes wide as he glanced up at the towering structure of the hotel in front of him. As his gaze reached the sign perched at the top, a strange, familiar fear crept over him, so thick it made him let out a distorted radio hiss.

Just as he began to melt into the shadows with his staff in hand, Charlie flung open the door. < You're back—! > She squealed with excitement, but her voice trailed off as the sinner vanished right in front of her eyes.

Adam was literally crawling toward the window—it was his only shot. One arm was completely useless, and he was dragging himself across the floor with the other, scraping his knees against the ground, smearing it with the blood still pouring from his two wounds. The pain was excruciating, and Lilith's voice behind him—humming a twisted lullaby—was tearing apart any last shred of sanity he had left. She followed him step by step with the calm of someone who knew her prey could never escape.

< How pathetic you are. >

< Go to... hell, you blonde... bitch. > Adam spat, his words coming out in ragged breaths.

With a single long stride, Lilith positioned herself between his legs, raised her right arm, and pointed the blood-soaked spearhead directly at his back. She licked her violet lips with a wicked smile.

< Goodbye, First Man. >

...

< LILITH! >

Lucifer's voice froze the spear mid-air—literally. A thin layer of ice crackled over the weapon, burning Lilith's fingers until she dropped it to the ground.

Lilith took a few steps back, locking eyes with the Seraphim as he appeared in a flash of light. He stood tall, framed by the window, just inches from Adam's bloodied hands. Lucifer's wide, crimson eyes, void of pupils, dimmed and shifted to a stunned gold. He blinked several times before lowering his gaze in disbelief toward Adam, sprawled on the floor.

< What—what's going on here? > he asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Adam let out a weak, bitter laugh. < Guess the plot armor finally showed up, > he muttered.

Lucifer shot him a sharp glare. < Okay, shutting up, > Adam grumbled, gripping the floor in an attempt to push himself up.

< I'm just cleaning up our mess, like I said I would, > Lilith replied smoothly, though her eyes blazed with the same fury that made her long blonde hair sway in a non-existent wind.

< In the hotel? You were going to kill him here, with... with... > Lucifer glanced at the spear on the ground in disgust and fear. < ...that? > < You're putting everyone at risk. >

< There's no risk, > she countered coolly, < he's just a demon now, and he's almost dead. Look for yourself. >

Lilith took an exaggerated step forward, pressing her bare foot into Adam's gaping shoulder wound. He collapsed back to the ground with a groan.

< Fucking hell! > Adam spat out blood. < Talk about marital bliss, huh? > He clawed at the floor with his good hand.

< Lilith, > Lucifer called again, circling Adam's limp form with hesitant steps. < It's... it's not necessary anymore. >

He forced a strained smile, one meant to calm her down, waving his hands, even the one holding his staff. But her eyes were as cold as the ice that had coated the spear.

< Not necessary? > Lilith raised an eyebrow, her voice sharp with disapproval. < He canceled the Extermination, blackmailed you, and tried to kill Charlie! >

< ...but Charlie has... uh, forgiven him? She let him stay here, even though I... didn't want to... >

At those words, Adam felt a pang—something like loneliness, or gratitude? God, he never thought he'd find himself thanking the heavens—or maybe hell—for Lucifer being there... and actually on his side? Was this for real?

Meanwhile, Alastor had been sneaking through the shadows of the hallways, trying to avoid the others who were all in a panic after his sudden disappearance. Charlie, especially, was likely impossible to calm down at this point.

The hotel had so many rooms, far too many floors, most of them still vacant with no guests to fill them yet. But then, Alastor found himself there, in the long red-and-black corridor leading to Adam's room. His grip tightened around his cane, his smile anything but serene. He perked up his ears at the sounds and voices from inside the room—they were in there.

He continued toward the door until he stood just a few feet away, recognizing the muffled voices of Lucifer and... Lilith? A crackle of static echoed from his radio-like interference.

< Things have changed, yes, but we'll find another solution... can we talk about it? > Lucifer's smile was sharp but sweet, a plea as he looked up at his wife from his shorter height.

< Talk about it?! > Lilith hissed, suddenly snapping her wide, furious eyes toward the closed door. Alastor, standing on the other side, froze. < We'll talk, my little angel, ♫ > she sang, masking Alastor's presence. She pulled her blood-soaked foot off Adam's wounded shoulder, allowing him to let out a shaky gasp.

At that exact moment, Alastor heard the metallic clang of something falling at his feet. He barely had time to glance down and see that it was the lower part of his staff—split in two just as the ex-commander had severed it during the last extermination—when the upper half, microphone included, crumbled between his fingers into dust.

He froze—not just from the sudden, terrible realization stabbing through his mind, but because... he was trapped! The violet collar of his pact lit up around his neck, cutting off his breath...

...and Adam, with a monstrous snarl that twisted his face into something bestial, lunged forward. In a blur of speed and fury he hadn't displayed before—at least not in his Sinner form—he grabbed the spear from the ground. Black matter streamed from his eyes as he shot toward the room's entrance, aiming the blood-stained blade at the door. With a violent thrust, he drove it straight through the wood, sending the spear's tip bursting out the other side.

Everything happened in an instant, right under Lucifer's wide-eyed gaze.

< ..what the— >

The spear smashed through the door, completely ripping it off its hinges and slamming into Alastor, driven by Adam's massive frame.

Alastor barely had time to lift his ash-covered hands before he registered the door crashing toward him. His pupils shrank to tiny dots, eyes wide as the spear tore through his chest, emerging from his back and pinning him against the corridor wall.

From inside the room, Lucifer stood frozen, watching in shock as Alastor coughed up blood, the door disintegrating on impact. Adam, entirely consumed by his rage, bled the same black viscous matter from his jaws. He growled again, shoving the demon harder against the wall, driving the spear deeper, until the ice burning his hand snapped the blade in two.

By now, the commotion had spread throughout the entire hotel. Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, and Niffty were desperately searching for Alastor. Charlie had become convinced he was somewhere inside the building, and something told her he was in Adam's room. She wasn't as naïve as they thought; all these oddities, these secrets, had started the moment Adam arrived. Was it her fault all of this was happening? Should she not have forced her father to take him in?

As Charlie, followed closely by Vaggie armed with her angelic spear, raced down the stairs, she suddenly heard her father's voice.

< ALASTOR! >

His shout echoed from the end of the hallway, just as a fiery explosion erupted, sending Adam flying down the corridor at terrifying speed, the force shaking the walls.

The towering figure of the First Man shot past Charlie, narrowly missing her as Vaggie tackled her out of the way. Husk and Angel Dust pressed themselves against the wall to avoid him, while Niffty looked up with wide eyes.

< Whoooa, what a ride! > she giggled, spinning her cyclopean head in the direction Adam flew, crashing into a door several feet away from where Lucifer stood, his small figure at a distance as he darted toward Alastor.

< Dad! > Charlie cried in alarm, scrambling to her feet and running toward the two of them. From the now-doorless room, Lilith vanished in a wisp of ghostly fire.

A violet shimmer flickered in Charlie's eyes for a brief moment, but she was forced to refocus on her father, who was now hunched over Alastor, lying still on the ground. The Radio Demon wasn't moving. His body had left a long, bloody smear on the wall, and that same blood was pooling on the floor beneath him.

Charlie sprinted forward, but she and Vaggie were forced to stop abruptly as the intense heat radiating from Lucifer became unbearable. Both girls shielded their eyes from the scorching wave that burned their skin.

< What's happening... Dad! > Charlie cried out, squinting through the searing light to see the spear lying on the floor. < Alastor! Oh my God, Alastor! > she panicked, stamping her feet in desperation. < He's hurt, he's hurt! Dad, let me get to him!! >

Charlie was frantic, stomping her feet in place as the heat melted the wallpaper and dimmed the lights along the walls, plunging that specific part of the hallway into a deep, eerie darkness.

A darkness that also filled the screen, which moments before had been broadcasting the corridor's scene. Vox, sitting in his swivel chair, stared wide-eyed at the flickering static as the signal cut out in his Control Room.

Lucifer, now fully transformed, seemed oblivious to everything. Flames blazed between his curved horns, and his eyes were devoid of pupils. Every part of him, even his clothes, was covered in spectral yellow eyes that writhed like his tail, which ended in a sharp black spear.

The sudden appearance of his six feathered wings sent out a shockwave that knocked Husk and Angel Dust backward as they tried to reach him. Niffty, on the other hand, had already darted over to where an unconscious Adam lay, far down the hall.

< Dad, please! I'm begging you! I care about Alastor too, we all do! > Charlie cried out, collapsing to the floor where she had fallen. But Lucifer only leaned over Alastor, wrapping him protectively in his wings, hiding them both from view in a soft embrace.

A cone of darkness surrounded them, then lit up with a vibrant, laser-like golden light that hummed with a strange sound. That same sound cut through the sky outside the hotel, bright enough to be seen from the windows overlooking the courtyard.

The explosion that followed shook the building violently, sending dust tumbling down onto Charlie's head. She curled up, wrapping her arms around her skull, gasping in desperation.

< What the fuck is happening now!? >

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raisoramizu · 10 days ago

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Love and Destroy - Hazbin Hotel

NSFW - NON CON For some dark reason, no matter how many times I try, Tumblr won't let me post the story here. So for anyone who wants to read it, I'll leave the AO3 link in the title. " [..] Alastor was terrible and wonderful looking like that, something he would never expect to be able to see. And he had only himself to thank for that, or rather, thanks to the serum he had created; but who knows what would have happened if, instead of just breathing it in and indirectly absorbing it from Lucifer, he would have injected it right into the other. Reality was now taking over fantasy and every twisted, insane desire that constantly kept alight the embers of his hatred as well as his frustration were there, waiting to be fulfilled.”

Vox successfully manages to create a serum from Valentino's pheromone scent, but this gets out of hand quickly and puts some of the hotel guests under severe distress.This event alone soon become a sort of payback for Vox's sick and twisted hatred towards Alastor. His every desires are wrapped in an aphrodisiac with destructive abilities. (Radiostatic -Radioapple/Charlastor-) If you enjoy my stories, follow me at "Raisoramizu" on Bluesky. Chapter 1 - Dreams come true

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raisoramizu · 14 days ago

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Chapter 10: The Showdown

Tenth chapter of my NSFW Hazbin Hotel fan fiction Heaven is Not Forever

Here are the other chapters: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Lucifer had tried everything to get back on his feet; with his clothes and hair, he managed it perfectly, but even someone like him couldn't help but feel the effects of being battered so many times in just a few days. When he appeared in the Bar Room, he looked paler than usual, with dark circles around his eyes; his lips were tinged with purple, and he wore a different shirt than usual: high-collared and buttoned, much like Alastor's typical style, but white. He wore gloves and had hidden as much of his body as possible. As for the rest—jacket, vest, bow tie, hat, and his signature cane—he was fully dressed.

As soon as he entered, Charlie dropped the numerous papers she'd been working on into Vaggie's hands and rushed toward her father. < Dad! Are you feeling better..? > she squeaked worriedly, referring to Cherri Bomb's treatment from the day before. Lucifer gave her a crooked, somewhat silly smile, waving his free hand in the air to calm her down. < Yes, of course, I've rested a lot, darling! > < Oh really..? It doesn't look like it.. > she retorted, wrapping one arm around her torso and massaging her chin with the other hand. She scanned her father from head to toe and back, before glancing over his shoulder at the door he'd just come through, as if looking for something—or perhaps someone. < Alastor isn't with you, right..? > She barely had time to ask before the demon's figure reappeared from the liquid shadows behind her. < Soon, dear ~ > he replied, looking sharp and perfect in his bright red suit.

< Ohw! > she yelped in surprise, flames flaring briefly in her hair. She whirled around, glaring at him furiously. < What the hell! You almost gave me a heart attack, Alastor! > she shouted, frightened, which only made him burst into a genuine laugh, his jaws wide open. < What's that supposed to mean..? > she muttered, recovering but still frowning in disapproval. The Demon arched his eyebrows in surprise. < Didn't you want us to get along? > he asked, stepping away from the bar to circle around her, moving leisurely toward Lucifer. Once he reached his side, he stopped and turned back to face Charlie, who stood there clearly confused. He smiled at her as he rested his cane at waist level.

Lucifer, tense, with both hands resting on the apple-shaped handle of his cane, stared back at her with a twitchy, uncomfortable smile. Charlie slumped her shoulders and raised her palms in disbelief. < Yes.. yes, sure.. but.. > < THEN ~! > the Half-Deer suddenly exclaimed, enthusiastically lifting his microphone. Lucifer's eyes bulged in surprise. Alastor tilted his chin up and placed the tips of his fingers on his chest. < ~ We have the Princess's blessing ~ > he sang out, his voice rising with such exaggerated emphasis that even his tongue vibrated along with his vocal cords. He then turned sharply, fixing his overly joyful gaze on the Seraph through his monocle. < Did you hear that? I have her permission to introduce you to Rosie! > he added sarcastically. Immediately after, he whipped back around to Charlie so fast that the tips of her dark bobbed hair fluttered. < ExACTly?! >This time, however, his eyes were wide and pitch black, his voice distorted with a demonic radio-like interference so intense that it sent Charlie literally jumping into the darkness that had fallen around her. < Y-y-yes, of course! > she stammered, forcing an uncertain and deeply stressed smile.

< Splendid ~ > Alastor chimed serenely, his sweet smile restoring the room's normal atmosphere. < And do rewrite the lesson on not meddling, dear. Because it's not working. > With a swift turn on his heel, he hooked his arm around Lucifer's and began dragging him away. The Seraph, utterly stunned and caught off guard, clumsily stumbled behind the demon, holding onto his hat with one hand so it wouldn't fly off from the speed at which they disappeared down the hallway, leaving Charlie wide-eyed, staring after them. Vaggie emerged from behind Charlie, watching them with a frown. < What.. what the hell is going on? Alastor's lost his mind.. > the blonde muttered, her hands clutching her cheeks. Vaggie ventured. < But.. but- Look at themmmm! > Charlie gasped desperately, waving her hands in the air to emphasize the absurdity of what had just happened.

a mischievously gurgling voice from the bar broke the silence, drawing everyone's astonished gaze to Angel Dust, who was idly spinning a glass of rum with ice between his claws. Even Husk, though not fully convinced, cast a glance as he dried a glass. < What..? > Charlie exclaimed, blushing furiously and widening her eyes even more. The spider demon wobbled onto a stool, resting one cheek on one of his forearms while holding his rum glass with another. < Oh, sweetheart, I can spot these things a mile away. I - > he continued, arching his back and raising his chin with pride, absolutely shameless. < Alastor just defended the talents of the sexy sovereign. Who'd have thought our sweet strawberry deer had such tenderness in him? > < Don't talk nonsense, > Husk snapped, his red eyebrows twitching nervously like long whiskers. < I've never seen Alastor take an interest in anyone like that. And believe me, in Cannibal Town, he's got plenty of admirers who'd let him handle them like salami. > < Uuho, > the spider crooned, waving his second right hand as if fanning himself from the heat. < But imagine—why bother with plain cannibals when you could bed the Little King of Hell? I'd let our golden-haired angel shake me up any day. > < Hey, hey, Angel, that's my dad you're talking about, and I'm right here! > Charlie yelled, awkwardly indignant but also deeply embarrassed, turning bright red.

Niffty chimed in from across the room, bustling around as she tidied up scraps of paper from the floor. She froze under the others' bewildered gazes, then laughed uproariously, broom in hand. she cackled wildly. < .. > Charlie's jaw dropped. < He.. he's eating my dad's brain?! > she asked, horrified, jolting when Vaggie placed her hands on her shoulders. < Alastor's not doing any of that. You said you wanted them to get along, right? Well, they're getting along. Let's just leave them alone and focus on the redemption plan. The draft for the TV ad is practically ready. > Vaggie asserted, beginning to push Charlie toward the hotel's conference room. < But.. but Vaggie.. > < No buts, move it! > Still agitated and offering weak resistance, Charlie disappeared into the room, dragged by her companion. Angel Dust took his eyes off where they'd vanished and took a sip from his rum glass. < They're definitely screwing. Trust me. > he said, nodding confidently under the silent stare of Vox, who, from his Control Room, hadn't missed a thing.

...

The pleasure was intense—Adam was finally free after weeks of chest-crushing tension. He wasn't paying attention to the fact that there was nothing around him, just a world made of darkness. All that mattered was the essentials: Lute's bare shoulders trembling under his violent thrusts. How beautiful it was to watch her wings flutter and her back arch. And her voice? If he adjusted his hips just so, he could press against her cervix, and that's when he could hear her whimper like a little chick. He loved hearing her sob, drool, call his name, and even curse him out when he pushed too hard or too deep. Adam's legs were sunk into what seemed like a mattress with crumpled sheets, he on his knees, she on all fours. One hand gripped her ass cheek tightly, his thumb deep inside her other hole. She was dripping wet, and underneath her moans, the wet sound of their intercourse filled the room. I need to go on a diet, he thought. He couldn't even clearly see his own erection plunging in and out of her because his belly—sprouting a trail of brown hair down to his pubic area—was blocking his view. But it didn't matter; the slap of his flesh against her reddened cheeks was enough. His eyes blinked a couple of times as his vision blurred... or was it the world around him that blurred? He didn't care. The pleasure was so overwhelming, igniting every muscle in his body, but he just couldn't reach the peak. He needed to fuck her harder. Breathing heavily, his naked body drenched in sweat, he planted one hand firmly on her shoulder, forcing her down until she was completely pressed against the bed. He spread her thighs wider with his knees, leaning forward to hammer his hips harder against her backside, making the wet, slapping sounds echo even louder in that strange room. The only sounds were his own gruff, low moans and the squelching of their bodies. But where was Lute? He narrowed his eyes at her back, her head hidden in the mattress, arms spread out on either side, fingers completely still. A sudden, intense wave of terror froze him in place.

< ... > ..

< Lute! >

He called out to her, but nothing. The angel didn't move. < ... > That gut-wrenching fear tightened around his stomach and lodged in his throat as a lump he couldn't swallow. With hesitant courage, he reached for her face, turning her head—his fingers sinking into a gaping hole of searing, raw flesh.

Adam's entire body locked up in terror, his pupils shrinking into tiny pinpoints. Lute didn't have a face. Where her face should have been was just a dark hole, his fingers now slick with her golden blood.

He jumped back with a scream, pulling out of her and scrambling away until he found himself sitting somewhere, his knees bent, hands pressed to the ground beside him. Panic consumed him entirely.

His breath came in short, asthmatic gasps, drool spilling from his mouth as he looked around. It was all black. Where was he?

He couldn't move. Paralyzed by fear, he dug his claws into his own chest, trying to tear away that crushing claustrophobia that threatened to suffocate him, but suddenly...

" < You've made the right choice, Lute. From now on, I'll take care of you > "

It was Lucifer's voice—a soft, masculine tone, warm and soothing.

Adam's eyes darted around wildly. < ...! > In the darkness before him, two figures became clearer: Lute's form, held by the waist in Lucifer's embrace, and the Seraphim speaking to her as he waved his cane in the air.

" < I'll fill you with knowledge... > " Lucifer continued, walking away with her, distancing themselves from where Adam was frozen.

< ..! > He tried to call out to her, but no sound came. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. He tried again, as they moved further and further away. Lute. LUTE! < ... > Panic surged through him, the sweat on his skin freezing into cold tremors. His breath came in desperate gasps, threatening to break him. Lute! < ... >

Lucifer's blond head, crowned by his large white hat, reflected in Adam's wide, tear-filled eyes as the Seraphim turned to look at him. That pale, delicate face tilted just so, revealing blood-red, pupil-less eyes locking onto Adam's terrified gaze. A lascivious smile stretched across Lucifero's lips, and from his mouth, a forked tongue hissed out.

" < You'll love being filled with the warm seed of my knowledge... > "

At those words, something inside Adam shattered. The panic erupted into a physical pain that sent him jerking forward.

He jolted so hard he sprang up from the bed like a coil and fell back down with a loud thud onto the floor.

Completely transformed, with pitch-black eyes and curled horns on his head, he was gasping for air, breathing with real wheezing asthma, but oxygen wasn't enough. He violently clutched at the fabric of his studded sweater, feeling his body radiating heat so intense it suffocated him. As beads of sweat streamed down his forehead and back, he glanced around: it was his room in the Hotel. Simple and boring, just like it had always been—the bed in front, the little table with the TV behind him, and the windows covered with dark drapes, letting in just a few faint beams of reddish light. He swallowed hard.

A soft, melodious female hum filled the room.

< Oh... did you have a bad dream, Adam? > The song abruptly stopped.

That voice... Adam focused his gaze on the bed: it was Lilith. She was lying on her side, propped up on an elbow, her face resting on the same hand. Her blonde hair spilled onto the mattress behind her, and she gazed at him languidly with icy blue eyes. Her long purple dress hugged her curvy, feminine figure, parting at the slit that revealed a perfectly bare leg. < Do you want to rest your head on my lap to calm down? > she asked, slowly running her fingers over her own thigh. < Or... do you need me to take care of that? > she added, her voice dripping with playful malice, pointing at the obvious bulge in his pants, made worse by his seated position with legs slightly apart.

As soon as Adam realized his erection, he flushed with a mix of rage and discomfort, springing to his feet and shifting back into human form. < Fuck you, Lilith! > he spat, turning away sharply to hide his condition, running his hands through his sweaty face and hair, trying to regain his mental balance.

Lilith let out a sharp, amused laugh. < You don't seem surprised to see me here. Did your beloved warn you? >

< What do you want? If the pact still holds, why didn't you stay having your fun in Heaven? > he snapped, still standing, keeping his distance from the bed, glaring at her like a snarling dog.

< Oh > Lilith exclaimed, theatrically placing a hand over her mouth, < maybe I lied to Lute. You're dead—the pact is void... and besides, you no longer have any power to keep me in Heaven. In fact, you have no power at all... nor any use. >

Adam turned toward her, visibly shaken. < Void? Does that mean... and Eve? >

< ... > But she didn't answer right away; she took her time, sitting up on the bed before elegantly stepping off it from the opposite side of where Adam stood. Her bare feet softly padded as she took slow, deliberate steps around the furniture. ... < And worst of all, you led Sera to cancel the extermination. >

< But that bitch attacked me first, I— >

< YOUR ARROGANCE RUINED EVERYTHING! > Lilith thundered, her eyes flaring black and pupil-less as she burned with fury. Massive goat horns materialized on her head, and her canines sharpened, unnervingly inhuman. < What did you think when you decided to attack the Hotel? That she would back off and let you destroy everything? > She licked her lips, calming down but keeping the horns and bringing her gaze back to that penetrating, pale stare. < That she'd just let you kill her little friends...? > she continued, closing in on Adam, who had by then braced himself to face her, his back straight, chin raised, and his forehead furrowed in burning anger.

< You're nothing but a megalomaniac idiot, incapable of thinking with anything other than that half-dick between your legs > she spat as she finally stood in front of him. She was tall, but not as tall as him, and to keep eye contact, she tilted her head up slightly, pointing a finger right at the bulge in his pants. < Already soft, huh? ♫ > she cooed mockingly.

Adam flinched, feeling his chest heat up with a rush that climbed to his face, flushing him red and welling up his eyes with frustration. But it also surged downward, making his erection pulse and swell once more beneath the tight fabric of his jeans.

< Oh no, impossible. I know you always wag your tail when you see me > she chuckled, pressing her full chest softly against his, running her palms up his torso, wrapped in long purple gloves. She didn't miss his reaction, sensing his heart race, his breath quicken, and his muscles tense with desire.

Confident that it took so little, she was caught off guard when Adam tried to strike her. Bending his left elbow back, the demon attempted to punch her directly in the face, but she was quick enough to dissolve into a cloud of violet dust, leaving him stumbling toward the bed with a growl.

< So, Eve... you can't free her?! > he yelled into the empty room, still furious and flushed, struggling to steady himself again. Lilith reappeared, this time perched on the dresser, legs sensually crossed.

< You're in a room with me, and you're thinking about Eve...? That's not very nice, darling ♫ > she sang, finally breaking him under curses and gasps.

Adam felt the pleasure of an orgasm hit him like lightning, frying every neuron in a wave of bliss. Gripping the crotch of his pants tightly, he groaned deeply, his eyebrows arching as he sank to his knees beside the bed, forehead pressed against the edge, still trembling with muscle spasms from the climax, saliva dripping onto the floor from his parted lips. Behind him, a round of fiery applause rang out.

< How fun! > Lilith's voice chimed, filled with delight. The joy in her voice faltered with the last question, her eyebrows arching with theatrical disappointment. < Don't worry, you're already dead: if you have a heart attack from repeated orgasms, your heart will regenerate ♫ > She hummed, making him groan again.

She watched as he shuddered, his back arching, his head jerking up, claws digging into the blanket.

< Better than a vibrator, don't you think...? >

< What the... hell... what the hell...? > He gasped, disheveled and wild-eyed. < What the fuck are you doing?! I'm gonna kill you, you damned demon! > he growled, baring his sharp teeth. With a sudden burst of rage, he lunged at her again, and this time his anger flared so explosively that he moved with inhuman speed, managing to grab her by the throat and slam her violently against the wall, cracking the surface and sending fractures across the plaster.

Adam's bat-like wings flared briefly behind him at the sound of Lilith's feminine gasp before disappearing again, leaving him transformed with dark horns and eyes brimming with black matter. He found himself bent over her, panting and drooling, his knee pressing against the dresser between her open thighs. Gasping for air, his pupils shrank at the sight of her arching and writhing languidly against the wall, a trickle of saliva escaping her lips from the chokehold.

Her breasts heaved as they were exposed, and her bare knee peeked out from the slit in her dress, pressing the sole of her foot against the edge of the furniture.

That violent arousal scrambled his brain again, sending a pulse to his erection, straining against the fabric of his jeans, desperately seeking release. He swallowed hard.

< You filthy whore, now I'll...! > he spat in rage, clawing at her dress as if to tear it apart.

< ..you want to rape me, then...? > But Lilith froze him in place with that simple question. < It'll be easy... for you > she continued, gasping from the grip that forced her chin up and her head against the half-shattered wall. Her face was flushed, her eyes filled with tears from the suffocation, but damn, she was oozing lust... she was smiling as she licked the strands of saliva from between her teeth. < You've done it before... dozens of times... after all... >

Adam felt a stab of panic shoot through his chest and immediately released her, stumbling back several steps as his legs wobbled beneath him.

Lilith sighed, rubbing her throat as she returned to sitting, never breaking eye contact with his terrified form. Then she furrowed her brow with mock puzzlement. < What's the matter...? Did you grow a heart...? >

He didn't have time to respond. Lilith's eyes flared with a burning darkness, and Adam felt his ankles, wrists, and neck suddenly wrapped tightly by dozens of enchanted violet ropes, cutting off his breath. < Ugh! >

The ropes yanked him violently, nailing him down to the floor between the bed and the TV, pinning him in a crucified position. With a sharp blow to his head, he found himself lying on his back, staring at the wallpaper on the ceiling, legs slightly spread, arms stretched out into the air. < What the..! Hey, hey, you crazy bitch, let me go! > He immediately started struggling, swelling his muscles and tensing up in a clumsy attempt to free himself, pulling uselessly against the ropes, which only tightened further, cutting into his wrists and neck. He slammed his head against the floor, his face twisted in a demonic grimace as he clenched his teeth. .. < You think just because you've got big... ugh, > he groaned again, jerking as Lilith, standing between his spread legs, stomped hard on his half-erect cock through his pants.

Holding up part of her long dress delicately, Lilith gazed at him through the curve of her breasts, her foot pressing down on his groin. She dragged the ball of her foot along his length, all the way to the tip, her cheeks flushing red at the new groan she elicited from him.

she purred, her voice melodic as she leaned forward, her gaze locking with his pained, fearful eyes. < What you are, what you did to me, allowed me to become what I am today: free > .. < No one can control me, dominate me... least of all, you > < Hurts, doesn't it? Not having control... not that you ever truly had it, even though everything's always been laid out for you. Since Creation, since Eve... > < Who the hell would want to touch you, witch! > he snapped, his pride wounded. < You're the one tempting me with your voice. You disgust me. The only reason I made a pact with you is to save Eve. > He began to thrash again, cursing as he felt the pain from her stomping intensify.

A sharp, amused laugh from Lilith silenced him as she lowered herself onto him. Holding up her skirt, she let her long blonde hair spill onto his chest before sliding down, straddling his hips, rubbing her burning heat against his already tormented groin, soaking his jeans with her arousal. Adam cursed again, trying to divert his mind away from her. < Damn you and all your demons >. < You are one of my demons now ♫ > she sang softly, her gaze calm but her breath heavy, continuing to rub her hips sensually against his lower abdomen. < Didn't seem like you thought that way in Paradise all those years. Did you enjoy screwing me, thinking you had power over me? That I liked it...? You know... you don't really know how to use that little thing of yours. You wave it around like a teenager awkwardly waving a stick. >

She kept provoking him, grinding on him, leaning in until her long blonde hair surrounded his face like a curtain, trapping them in their own world. < Now, it's time for you to die > she whispered directly into his mouth, her tongue slipping out to lick a mix of his sweat and saliva from his lips. < Only you, Lucifer, and I know that demons killed by angelic weapons feed the power of the Primordial Evil... too many. But I can't kill my husband > .. < So I'll just shut your mouth for good, and you'll become one with your precious Eve, who... no, she can't be saved... because she is the Evil itself >.

< What..! > Adam gasped, his eyes widening. < So... you lied to me? She can't be saved? > < Exactly... a little lie to grant me this vacation in Paradise and weaken Lucifer's mind even further in my absence... but you, you had the audacity to provoke him and blackmail him. > Still leaning against his chest with one hand, she straightened her back slightly under his stunned gaze, extending her other arm into the air, her gloved fingers fluttering as if summoning something. < You had one job: keep the massacre going until Roo was strong enough, but your arrogance and stupidity ruined everything. Now I'll have to find another way to awaken him. In the meantime, this hotel will be useful to create chaos. And Lute, devastated by your death, will return to destroy everything. If I'm lucky, I'll see her convince Eve to restart the slaughter; if not, I'll kill her since, among all the lies you told, she knows some truths too... >

Adam chuckled weakly, coughing as the ropes cut into his skin, blood starting to trickle from the wounds. < You won't break Lute with that sweet little voice of yours, and you won't control Roo. He'll be too much... even for you... > < Of course I'll control him. I'm Lilith. > He coughed again, wincing as his ribs ached from the effort of laughing. < You're just the right kind of woman... for me, > he groaned. < Megalomaniac and dumb... you can't even control... a... depressed... angel. > Panting, he added, < The Radio Demon is already... handling it. >

He barely got the last word out before Lilith's eyes turned completely black in a fit of rage. Her exposed hand clenched around the shaft of a long angelic spear, conjured from violet energy, and with a sudden thrust, it shot straight for Adam's skull.

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raisoramizu · 14 days ago

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I just posted the new chapter of my NSFW fan fiction New Order on AO3. Here’s the [FAN FICTION LINK] for anyone who wants to check it out.

This is the third part of my Hell's Flavours saga, which begins as a slice-of-life story between Adam and Lute in Heaven during the first season of Hazbin Hotel and branches into a "What If" based on my headcanons.

It’s a Guitarspear / Radioapple / Radiostatic fic.

If you enjoy my Hazbin Hotel fan fiction, follow me on my blog or on Bluesky at "Raisoramizu."

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raisoramizu · 15 days ago

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art trade with @hikari-cchi

Vox and a very drunk Alastor 📺🍷🦌

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raisoramizu · 15 days ago

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Ohh yeah, I'm writing so relaxed.

Battle station 🤟

#hazbin hotel #radiostatic #radioapple #ao3 writer #ao3 #hazbinhotelfanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing

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raisoramizu · 18 days ago

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Chapter 9: The Bite of the Apple

This is the ninth chapter of my fan fiction, "Heaven is Not Forever." You can find the other chapters on my blog. Some chapters (including this one) are NSFW.

Let me know what you think! (Radioapple/Guitarspear)

The light of the infernal dawn was now filtering through the gaps in the white drapes hanging over the numerous windows lining the circular wall. The room was still shrouded in shadows, with no lights on except for a lamp on his work desk. A single beam of light illuminated his face and the hands meticulously working on a construction. His brow was furrowed from the precision the task demanded, so tense that a solitary drop of sweat rolled down his temple. He bit his serpentine tongue between his lips, and with the help of a screwdriver, carefully screwed the wing onto a duck's body.

< THERE! Done! > Lucifer exclaimed with great enthusiasm, leaning back against his chair and thrusting into the air the hand holding the yellow duck. It looked like any other simple toy cluttering his room. Widening his sharp, drooling grin, he brought the duck to his chest, focusing his red-tinged gaze on it. < This is my finest creation, I just know it! > Then, squeezing the duck between his fingers, he activated it: a dark cloud began to swirl around it, as if by magic. < It's happening... it's happening... > He became more rigid, more tense, as the excitement in his eyes reflected the growing darkness. Shadows swelled around the object, morphing into numerous slimy tentacles writhing in the air—more and more, until the darkness became too much and, in a flash, it engulfed his hand. < Wha—? > He panicked, jerking back as his palm was deeply cut. < Ahiow! >

Squeezing his right eye shut in pain, he instinctively flung the duck toward the shadowed part of the room, hitting Alastor squarely in the forehead just as the demon was reassembling himself.

< ... > The duck bounced off with a radio crackle and fell to the floor with a squeak, returning to its perfectly normal state. But Lucifer was left speechless, staring at the demon, who sharpened his gaze in irritation before lowering it to the toy. He bent down to pick it up.

< Eehk, Alastor! > The Seraph jerked in his seat, pushing it back noisily and standing up with a tense and awkward look of discomfort. < You're... you're taking too many liberties with this pact, just barging into my room like this! I am still the Sovereign of Hell! > he blurted out, flustered, waving a finger at him before realizing that the same dark hand was bleeding. Startled, he clutched it to his chest with the other hand and turned his back on Alastor, who now stood tall, holding the duck in his claws with a tight smile, though his gaze remained sharp on the other.

He was analyzing him. So odd. Almost incapable of managing his emotions or social interactions; obsessed with making ducks, absurd, fragile, and at the same time dangerous. And that was the King of Hell? The being with the greatest power in the Abyss, one of the most feared in all creation? The one Adam couldn't even scratch, and that he...

Alastor musically sizzled, freezing Lucifer in place with his back still turned and his injured hand tightly clenched in the other to stop the flow of golden blood.

The angel was only wearing his shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and his vest. No bow tie, no boots under his white trousers; his black forearms and cloven hooves were visible. How short he was. Small, blond, harmless—if not for those pale, razor-sharp fangs that rivaled his own.

For a moment, he stood there, rigid, caught in an awkward expression—what was his mistake?—with his lower eyelids raised and the fear of turning around or saying anything. What was he supposed to say? The words came from the Stag Demon, who twirled his staff, the tip a microphone, before making it disappear behind his back as he bent his elbow at waist height.

< ...You're the "Sovereign of Hell" > he sang, emphasizing the distorted words through his radio filter. < ...yet you managed to hurt yourself with your own duck. > As he spoke, Alastor moved; his steps echoed slowly, without a specific destination, as he inspected every detail in the room, from the floor to the ceiling. He neared the desk, leaving the duck there. < ...I didn't realize you liked my tentacles so much... but you can't even control them when you create them yourself ~ > he teased, now literally right behind Lucifer, just a meter away, his chin lifted and his smile so wide and amused that his red eyes glowed.

Lucifer spun around abruptly. < Listen here— > He waved his finger at him again, both furious and embarrassed, but...

< Charlie came to talk to me about you. > The demon's firm tone and posture stopped him mid-sentence.

For his part, Alastor was immaculate in his appearance; unlike the Seraph, he looked composed and refreshed, a sign that he handled alcohol perfectly fine, even though hours had passed since his half-drunken state.

That single sentence left Lucifer gaping, his finger still pointed at him. < ...and why? > he asked, swallowing hard.

Alastor twirled his cane again, tapping the base on the floor as he rested both hands on the top of the shell-shaped handle. < ... > He stared at Lucifer in silence for a moment, tilting his head sideways at an unnatural angle with a curiously dubious expression.

< Are you really asking me...? >

< ... >

< She's worried, she's realized you're hiding something from her. > < ...But I bought you some time. >

< ... > < And why... did you do that? >

At that question, Alastor's smile froze on his face, beneath a furrowed brow; he didn't answer.

Lucifer sighed, rubbing his hair with his hands and starting to move again, under the demon's gaze, who even turned to follow him with his eyes. Lucifer headed to the edge of the bed and sat down, the mattress creaking beneath him.

< ... > Alastor raised his eyebrows with a tinge of regret and looked down.

Just like that. Those words prompted Lucifer to raise his face and look at him again, his expression filled with shock and concern. < Lilith has it? >

< ... > The demon stiffened, a pang in his chest.

< No, wait! > The Seraph leaped to his feet, closing the distance between them so quickly that he caught Alastor off guard, grabbing the fabric of his jacket at chest height. The Stag Demon recoiled with a step back, instinctively activating his sorcery. Behind a radio crackle, the room's only lamp flickered with a sickly green light.

Lucifer glared up at him, lips trembling with anger and fear, his claws clutching the red fabric so tightly he could feel the stiffness behind that minimal contact. The other demon stared down at him with wide eyes. Was he afraid, too? Was he afraid of him, or of Lilith...?

< Is that still the only reason you're here?! > he demanded. < I... I can help you, Alastor. Just... just tell me how you made the pact, what the terms are, and we'll find a solution. >

< And why... > Alastor started to ask, but Lucifer was pressing too hard, practically plastered against him. The demon stumbled back, nearly losing his grip on his cane, which clattered noisily against the desk. He swallowed hard. < ...why would you do it? Why go against her? > He finished, glancing at the wedding ring still proudly adorning Lucifer's left hand.

The question clearly agitated the angel. He lowered his head, clenching his teeth, his eyes boiling red with rage as he tugged harder on Alastor's shirt. < Why... Why... Why do you keep asking me questions! > he roared, his horns curling over his forehead as flames began swirling around him, igniting his figure.

Alastor lost his cane entirely; the sound of it hitting the floor echoed just as his red claws violently gripped Lucifer's chin, leaving the angel stunned. His hold was brutal, digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks, distorting them until his lips were dangerously close to the demon's. Clenching his yellowed teeth, Alastor locked his sharp gaze onto Lucifer's wide, astonished eyes.

< Do you want me all to yourself, Lucifer ~ ? > Alastor purred, his voice harmonious, deeply distorted, and unnaturally expressive.

At that simple question, the Seraph flushed; a wave of heat surged through his chest, flooding his brain and making his head feel heavy. A blush that wasn’t just red—it shimmered, golden like his blood. Panic gripped his heart; yes, he was afraid, but the overwhelming sensation was desire. Butterflies in his stomach? Oh God, that’s exactly what they were. How long had it been since he'd felt this? Millennia. He was turning into a human teenager all because of a damn Sinner—one who, on top of it all, had a dangerous connection to his wife. Seriously? But why even ask these questions? What did he have to lose? There was nothing left to lose. He no longer desired Hell, his duties, his rule... all he wanted was to live again.

< I... I don't know. All I know is you make me feel... alive, > he mumbled awkwardly, uncertain due to the grip distorting his lips.

< ... > Alastor's expression was unreadable. < ...During an extermination, almost eight years ago... she saved me. My soul in exchange for my life, > he finally admitted, his voice buzzing with irritation as he lowered his gaze.

Lucifer said nothing. What was there to say? So, that was it? No hidden clauses, no ambiguous terms? Clenching his jaw in disapproval—not that it mattered much, with Alastor’s claws sunk into his flesh—Lucifer summoned his courage, silencing his mind and giving in to instinct. With one hand, he gripped the demon’s wrist, the one holding him captive, while the other quickly slid down the lapel of Alastor’s red jacket, slipping underneath toward the belt of his pants and hastily unbuckling it.

At this reaction, Alastor seemed to regret his question. He stiffened, pressing harder against the desk, and a tentacle wrapped around Lucifer’s wrist, attempting to stop him. But damn, Lucifer was too strong. He wasn’t playing along anymore. He wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t hesitating. He wasn’t pretending to be weak. He wasn’t... oh hell.

A radio static screeched through the air as the desk shuddered beneath them: Lucifer’s hand had slid into Alastor’s pants, along with the tentacle still trying to restrain him. It was irritating. Annoying. It shouldn’t have been. Yet, why did it feel so hot? Was his face flushed? What expression was he making?

< ... > Alastor’s eyes flew open, freezing his smile as both hands shot up to grab Lucifer by the shoulders. The Seraph was looking at him with an intense, wild expression. What was that confident, wicked grin?

The angel’s forked tongue flicked out from his grinning mouth just as Alastor let out a ragged breath, feeling that hand brush against his pubis before sliding up along his erection. He was... aroused. Seriously? He panicked immediately, lowering his gaze between their bodies, following the smooth but quick movements of the Seraph’s hand over his already dampening cock. He could see it, swelling under the fabric, and the friction was growing louder, his breath faster, his need rising.

Panting breaths like the crackle of a radio with poor reception, accompanied by a trickle of sweat down his temple; Alastor dug his claws deeper into Lucifer’s shoulders, drawing a painful moan that spilled directly into his slightly parted mouth.

Lucifer hissed, his forked tongue teasingly snaking over the demon’s nose. < ...do you like it? >

Did he? The question didn’t need an answer because, with one swift pull, Lucifer’s wet tongue was inside his mouth, slipping between his fangs in search of his own. Overcome with sudden lust, Alastor exhaled hotly against his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he fell back onto the table.

Lucifer was becoming more impetuous and impatient; Alastor could feel him pressing against his pelvis. Now he was between his parted legs, one foot on the ground, the other dangling off the table’s edge, twitching in rhythm with the sticky, feverish handjob.

In a split second, Alastor found himself slammed back against the wall, the desk vibrating with the impact. Something fell, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the angel climbing over him, knee pressing against the desk’s edge, forcing him into an uncomfortable, contorted position.

Lucifer was pressing the back of his head into the wall while his tongue continued to coil inside Alastor’s mouth. The demon tried to respond, moving his own tongue, but he needed air, he was hot, he wanted to devour him. Without realizing it, his shirt had come undone, bow tie loosened, and he felt his suspenders jingling, now dangling loosely, tapping against the wood.

He flattened his ears, arching his eyebrows in a painful expression—the kind that accompanies rising pleasure—while his claws dug deeper into the angel’s shoulders. He’d already torn through both layers of fabric and could feel the warmth of Lucifer’s blood coating his fingers, accompanied by a pained groan bubbling in his mouth.

Lucifer’s instinct was driving them both. The angel was already wrapped in his tentacles, an enormous shadow cone spreading beneath them on the floor, swallowing everything, as coils slithered up and around every part of the angel’s body, squeezing and sliding over every tense muscle beneath his clothes.

Fabric shifted as though countless serpents were writhing inside, emerging as black tendrils that loosened his bow tie, snaking up his neck and chin, seeking his mouth, open from the kiss and moaning breaths.

There were also hands. They roamed over him, touching random spots as if every inch of his body was equally important, scraping against his skin, shredding clothes, and making him shiver. The angel was like a burning furnace rubbing against him, and Alastor’s cock finally slipped out of his pants as Lucifer fully climbed onto the table with a leap that sent more items clattering to the floor.

< Trust me... trust me, Alastor, > Lucifer whispered through strands of saliva, breaking the kiss to look at him with a hungry, overexcited gaze. He snapped his fingers, and his pants were now clinging to just one leg, fully exposing his lower half. Black tendrils dug into the flesh of his thighs, making his muscles flex.

In a heartbeat, Lucifer pushed Alastor’s right shoulder down even further, forcing him to bend awkwardly over the table as he guided Alastor’s throbbing cock—now slick with precum—between his buttocks. More stuff fell.

Alastor couldn’t feel the floor anymore, seated and scrunched up on the desk with the angel kneeling between his spread legs, thrusting his pelvis painfully against his erection. The pressure was unbearable. It hurt. The angel was relentless, too forceful, but damn, it was hot. Why the hell was it taking him so long to get all the way in? Was he trying to make him explode?

With a violent jerk, Alastor grabbed Lucifer’s waist—already wrapped in a tentacle—sinking his dripping fangs into his lip, a sharp radio screech accompanying the motion.

Lucifer moaned, arching his back and tilting his head toward the ceiling, but Alastor pulled even harder, pressing him down with renewed force as he braced his boot against the desk leg for leverage. Something else fell. How much crap was on this table? What kind of position was this? His chin was practically touching his chest, his face level with the angel’s torso... he could smell his scent burrowing into his brain like a thorn, but the real thorn was him, and he wanted to drive it all the way in, pierce his spine.

< Fuck > the demon cursed as fresh tentacles wrapped around Lucifer's wrists, neck, and shoulders, slamming him firmly against him with a loud thud. Alastor's brow furrowed in pain, but he never took his eyes off the angel's face, watching as it twisted in ecstasy from the deep penetration. His red eyes reflected the sight of Lucifer's mouth falling open with a gasp, a trail of saliva splattering onto his cheeks. Alastor flushed again.

Heat surged from his stomach, tightening around his waist as his claws, along with the shadowy tendrils, lifted Lucifer up and then slammed him back down with the same relentless energy. But more than anything, it was him driving into the other, plunging deeper, faster, and more violently, unleashing guttural, distorted growls that caused the room’s lights to flicker with the green glow of his magic.

And Lucifer? Lucifer was tangled in everything. His shirt and vest were still on, stained with blood, and he was drooling, sobbing with each sharp thrust that reached deep inside him. His arms were crucified in the air, suspended by the same tentacles writhing beneath his clothes, and another wrapped around his wet cock, stroking it with hunger.

With his bloodshot eyes rolled back toward the ceiling, the Seraph didn’t even notice something shifting around him again. The tendrils coiled around his knees—one bare, the other still clad in pants—lifting him higher, his body slick with sweat, his blond hair tousled and damp.

Not that Alastor was faring any better. His jacket and shirt were wide open, and his body burned with heat. His bare chest, still flushed from his healing wound, pressed against Lucifer’s clothes as he leaned over him, staying seated on the desk while thrusting his hips roughly against the angel’s. Between exhaustion, pain, and pleasure, Alastor lowered his face once more, gazing down at Lucifer’s open mouth, where the tendrils had forced his jaws apart.

< Scream... louder > Alastor growled in a distorted, demonic voice, forcing Lucifer to look up at his face.

< !!! > At that moment, Lucifer’s eyes rolled back, igniting flames between his curled horns. He gasped, feeling the penetration deepen, widen, as the demon’s figure loomed over him. Alastor’s claws gripped his waist like the handle of a fragile goblet.

Alastor’s smile stretched wide, from one eye to the other, his black gaze illuminated by the swirling red dials of a radio. His shoulders cast shadows over the Seraph, and all around them, ghostly voodoo symbols and spectral silver eyes danced in the eerie green light.

Lucifer seemed so small compared to Alastor’s imposing size, his antlers branching out into the darkness. The demon’s face glowed with stitches across his mouth, shoulders, and an “X” on his forehead.

< Ho... holy fuck... > Lucifer moaned, his eyes wide, as the demon’s massive jaws clamped down on his shoulder.

...

The lights in the hotel's Common Room flickered a few times. For a brief moment, the electrical system sputtered with annoying interference, casting flashes of green light that caught the attention of the room's occupants.

At the bar, Husk looked up at the ceiling with a frown, while Angel Dust, sitting on a stool with his chin resting on his palm, glanced around curiously.

< What's going on...? > Vaggie asked as she approached them, while Charlie focused on the door leading to the stairs up to the upper floors.

< Maybe I should go check. Dad hasn't left his room since yesterday, > Charlie commented with concern.

< What kind of hotel doesn't have a damn receptionist at the front desk?! >

Adam's voice suddenly thundered from the hotel lobby, silencing everyone in the bar.

< He's back! > Angel Dust exclaimed, as Vaggie, spear in hand, rushed down the hall, closely followed by Charlie.

< Hey, hey, get down! >

When they arrived in the lobby, Adam was pinned against the wall, tense and on edge, with Niffty clinging to his studded collar, her little feet pressed against his chest.

< Eheheh, they said it wasn't smart for you to reach that building. You came back, uahuaha, to be a bad boy?! > the bug-like creature cackled, baring her drooling fangs and glaring at him with her one available eye. Her tiny clawed hands tightened around the fabric of his sweater as she leaned dangerously close to his baffled face, prompting Adam to raise his hands in surrender. < You know... I like bad boys. I whip them back into shape, ahahauamuwa, > she hissed, laughing maniacally. Adam pressed the back of his head harder against the wall, his pupils shrinking in fear.

< Niffty! > Charlie's voice cut through the tension, causing the little cyclops to glance in her direction before letting go of Adam and hurrying toward the group.

Adam exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow, before pointing a shaky finger at Niffty. < Keep... keep her away from me! > he shouted, spitting with frustration.

< Oh, take it easy, asshole! > Vaggie growled, aiming her spear at his throat as she took a combat stance, making him flinch backward. < What the hell were you doing at VoxTek?! >

< Hey, I don't know, okay?! At some point, that damn TV demon's face showed up on my screen, and I lost it! >

< And you expect me to believe that?! >

< Vaggie, calm down! > Charlie stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Vaggie's arm.

The angel turned to her, finding Charlie's expression pointed, and she deflated with a sigh, lowering her spear.

< You asked my father to intervene for your Second, didn't you? > Charlie said seriously, addressing Adam. < You can talk to him if you want, but it's up to him to decide if you'll stay. I'll let you know when he's available. >

Adam didn't take Charlie's assertive tone well, frowning as though about to argue, but instead, he clenched his jaw, exhaled in frustration, and waved his hand dismissively. < Fine, fine, boss, > he muttered sarcastically. < I'm going to rest. It's been a fucking terrible day. >

Under the wary gazes of the others, Adam made his way toward his room.

Alastor had now quite literally pinned Lucifer on his back on the bed; the angel's figure seemed even smaller now, dwarfed by the enormous presence of the Radio Demon looming over him. The headboard of the bed thudded rhythmically against the wall in time with the deep, violent thrusts that made the angel gasp, moan, and curse. The Half-Deer was all over him, casting a shadow through the dim greenish lights illuminating the room, completely naked, his knees firmly planted on the mattress beneath the other's trembling thighs.

He could feel Lucifer's hooves kicking in the air, scraping against the sheets, clumsily trying to lock around his waist, but Alastor was too large for that to work. Lucifer's black tail trembled, wrapped around one of his own legs, and he was fully transformed, with six white and red wings spreading across the bed, twitching so frantically that some feathers had already fallen off, while others fluttered in the air.

The Sinner stared down at him with eyes filled with blackness and red pupils, his hair sticking to his damp skin, his branched antlers rising into the air. He watched Lucifer writhing and arching until his small chest rubbed against his own, pinned down with his hands above his blond head by Alastor's sharp red claws. Lucifer's face was a mask of sweat, saliva, tears, and blood—golden blood that had soaked through the shirt, the only piece of clothing he still wore, sticking to his wounded shoulder.

Alastor was ravenous. He felt a gnawing hunger in his chest that he had to control to keep from devouring Lucifer, limiting himself to ravaging him, hunched over him, taut and tense, so much that every single vertebra of his slender spine stood out. He was burning up. How many times had Lucifer already come? His chest was smeared with seed, and yet he was still aroused, his tentacles writhing everywhere, some of them rubbing persistently against his reddened member.

He's a demon, but damn it, Lucifer was far worse and would drive him insane. Alastor didn't have the power to handle the Devil. I don't, he thought. He's the Lord of Sin—so seemingly harmless, depressed when he wants to be, fragile when he chooses, destructive when he decides. He's played me.

Clenching his drooling jaws, Alastor's expression hardened into a snarl that crackled like low radio static. His blackened eyes darted to the angel's left hand, where the wedding ring still gleamed. He squeezed it violently, digging his claws into Lucifer's flesh, forcing a moan from him as saliva dribbled from the corner of his lips. Alastor promptly wiped away any secretion he found on Lucifer's cheeks, pressing his long red tongue against his skin.

Lucifer smiled. In that exact moment, his red eyes sparkled with mischief and satisfaction, stabbing a deep fear into Alastor's chest. Lucifer moved his face closer to Alastor's mouth, flicking out his forked tongue. Raising his hips higher, Lucifer twisted in yet another orgasm.

...

Since Lute had learned of Adam's presence in Hell, fear had overtaken every other emotion. Whether in pleasure, anger, or pain, there was always that overwhelming sense of dread that never left her; nightmares that had intensified ever since she finally met him, as if their reunion had marked something deeply negative rather than something beautiful.

In the last year, ever since she had bound herself to him, that fear had become a part of her, erupting at his death, transforming into rage and vengeance, and now... again.

She lifted her gaze toward the top of the Tribunal Tower, an immense structure washed in pale golden hues, reaching up to touch the sky of Heaven, standing amidst the peaceful city. Sera had responded quickly to her request for a meeting.

Not even two months had passed since she had been here last, during the trial that had declared Charlie and Vaggie unfit to redeem sinners. What could she possibly do to help Adam? He was lost. Perhaps she could stop Lilith. If she told Sera about Lilith, would it only worsen Adam's situation? And her own? Lute knew Sera was aware of it too, and she had never said a word.

She sighed and entered.

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raisoramizu · 19 days ago

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Hazbin Hotel leaks, help meee gofidjsjsjbdjsjs internal scream

Oh man, I’m obsessed with Alastor, and I’m so pumped I nailed his character vibe 😍😍🫠📻

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raisoramizu · 22 days ago

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Chapter 8: Love Isn't Enough

The eighth chapter of my Hazbin Hotel fan fiction 'Heaven is Not Forever.' You can find the other chapters on my blog!

(Guitarspear / Radioapple) Some chapters are NSFW.

The first thing she noticed about Lute was the same look of despair she had when they last saw each other. It was as if not a single day had passed, as if death had never happened—there she was, with the exact same expression.

But this time, it wasn't despair. It was disbelief and wonder. Lute's hands frantically touched every part of the demon's body, as if needing to confirm he was real. Was it really him? He smelled the same, was just as tall, had the same face—even though his eyes now glowed in two different shades of red, since he had reverted to his human form.

Her hand moved from his arm to his shoulder, and then sought the damp skin of his sweaty neck, grazing the rough stubble on his chin. Adam lifted his chin to her touch, forcing his gaze to fixate on her, not missing a moment. He noticed—she was missing an arm.

His reaction was different from hers. Less emotional. Of course, the First Man wasn't one to cry—God forbid a "real man" ever did that. But unlike her, he hadn't believed her lost forever. She, on the other hand, had thought him dead until this moment.

With a disapproving arch of his brow, the Sinner placed a hand where her arm was missing, gripping the fabric tightly, and snarled through clenched teeth, distorting his face in anger.

< Damn it, it's true! That bitch Vag- >

He started to grumble, but his words were cut off by a forceful tug that made him exhale the "a" right into Lute's mouth. He didn't remember her being this strong. In an instant, her arm was around his neck, pulling him down toward her small frame that pressed tightly against his. After a moment of stunned hesitation, Adam found himself responding to her kiss. Her tongue invaded his mouth with a hungry urgency, her lips salty from tears still streaming down her cheeks. He wasn't sure where to focus—the kiss or her body.

She was already clinging to him like a damned serpent, pressing her breasts against his chest. A bare thigh snaked between his legs so suddenly that he flinched, the pain and heat flooding his face. Gripping her by the hips, beneath her wings, he loosened his posture and tilted his head to delve deeper into her mouth, parting his lips to drink in the ragged breath they shared, unable to breathe through his nose.

< Shit, > Adam muttered into Lute's mouth with a whisper, his gaze sharp with arousal but also half-lidded with the need she was grinding against him with her thigh.

That need overwhelmed him, that frustration—he sank his claws into her slender waist, deepening the kiss to the point of bruising her lips with his sharp teeth. When she tensed and gasped in pain, he pulled back, alarmed and breathless, noticing a trail of golden blood dripping down her chin.

She sniffled and smirked.

< Well, well...now it's your turn, Lute. This is just as sacrilegious as Vajje and that infernal slut screwing each other. >

But as if she hadn't even heard him, Lute wailed in the same desperate tone as before, grabbing at his chest and throwing herself at him with all her strength. Taken off guard, Adam stumbled back a few steps, arms wide for balance, but when the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch, he collapsed into it, the furniture crashing loudly against the floor. Without giving him a moment to process, Lute was already on top of him, yanking at his sweater, planting her knee between his legs.

< Jesus Christ, Lute, calm down! You're just pissing me off! >

He snapped, grabbing her by the hips and slamming her shoulders into the armrest, flipping their positions until he was looming over her, his own knee wedged between her spread thighs. Lute groaned again, finding her good arm pinned beneath her wing against the couch, her other wing sprawled out awkwardly against the floor.

< ... >

They stared at each other, panting, their hearts racing for what felt like an eternity. Adam's eyes trailed down her body—her spine arched from the awkward angle of the armrest, her breasts brushing against her lifted abdomen. Her position had hiked her dark mini-skirt up to her hips, revealing her white underwear. He swallowed hard.

< Fine... >

He gritted his sharp teeth in a mischievous, aggressive smile. Gripping her thigh near the back of the couch, he hoisted her leg over his shoulder, leaning down to bury his face in her neck.

< Fine. >

He repeated, struggling to regain his composure.

< ...you missed me, baby, okay, it's normal to miss the First Dick. >

He growled into her skin, making her shiver.

he admitted, swallowing again as he used his other hand to tear her panties aside, pushing them toward her hip.

< Let me calm you down. >

He hissed through his teeth, thrusting two fingers inside her in one swift motion, his knuckles hitting her pelvic bone with a wet smack.

Lute gasped, her eyes flying open, her back arching as much as the couch would allow, her chest pressing toward her abdomen. She barely had room to move as the cramped space trapped her spine, forcing her to pull her head back, trembling as her wings twitched from the swift, relentless thrusts of his fingers. She felt her entire body shudder with every deep stroke, her boot heel bouncing helplessly in the air over his shoulder.

Adam was getting lost in it, licking her skin and scraping his fangs lightly across the trembling flesh of her neck. His breath was ragged, impatient, like the painful erection straining against his pants. He freed himself with his other hand, already hard and slick, and began grinding against her pelvis, his shoulders rolling with heavy movements that made the couch creak.

< As usual...I can't fuck you without you slamming me into something first, >

he chuckled roughly, his mouth seeking hers in more deep, smacking kisses. She grabbed the back of his neck, fingers weaving through his damp hair.

< You're right... You promised me a good morning every day, and you didn't deliver. I should beat the crap out of you, but... right now, I want you to slam me instead. >

She hissed, biting her lower lip.

At her words, he yanked his hand from her, his wet claws sinking into the armrest behind her.

< Oh, you're saying it now, sweetheart! >

He teased with a pained grin, immediately making her scream as he plunged into her with one forceful thrust, their hips smacking together with a loud crack.

It was the first of many pounding thrusts that crashed into her before she even knew what was happening. Adam was fast, violent, possessing her with the intensity of someone making up for lost time—though it had only been a couple of endless weeks. His movements were wild, lifting her leg higher on his shoulder, driving deeper into her as he folded her against the armrest, giving her no escape. One hand gripped the couch tightly, keeping her from slipping away with each powerful thrust, while his foot braced against the floor, pushing him further into her with every bone-rattling movement. He pounded into her so deeply that all her strength and will to resist drained away, replaced by an overwhelming, explosive pleasure.

God, she'd missed him. Stubborn, violent bastard.

Lute's wings were tangled in an awkward mess, some feathers falling loose as her moans shook with the intensity of Adam's deep, relentless thrusts. He groaned too, his voice low and ragged, looking down at her with a face twisted in pained pleasure, his brown hair slick with sweat clinging to his skin as it dripped down his temples. His sclera had turned black—he was losing control, transforming under the weight of his own need.

This wasn't a demon he had beneath him. It was Lute, with her black halo and her cumbersome wings, too proud to make them disappear—just like he had been, just like all angels were. And finally, he could think of nothing but her, watching as she writhed in pleasure, moaning his name between gasps, mixing noises and screams in that seemingly empty room.

Seemingly.

Vox watched from the Command Room, seated in his swivel chair. He didn't look particularly surprised by the scene, if anything, he seemed rather calm, knowing that the worst had passed. They were screwing. Well, good for them—who could blame them? There was nothing better than sex, especially after thinking they'd lost each other forever. At most, they might destroy the room, but not the building.

Sipping from his blue mug, emblazoned with the VoxTek logo, he spun the chair to turn his back on the screens, taking a long drink of his coffee.

< ...once they're done, it's best to let them go. My time will come, Alastor... >

The Radio Demon wasn't under the watchful eye of the TV Demon. Adam had managed to place a few cameras in the hotel's common rooms, but only the bar could really offer any useful information.

In fact, the Half Stag was in his room adjacent to the Radio Tower, having avoided the others while they were tending to Cherri Bomb and discussing what had just happened.

He approached his desk, slipping off his black bow tie with a clawed hand while holding an empty glass in his right. His face wore a tight-lipped grin, so forced it hardly seemed genuine. His room was even more ancient than the bar; the internal door was finely crafted mahogany, and the polished wooden floorboards creaked under the weight of his black and red hooves. The walls were covered in crimson wallpaper with eerie circular black designs, depicting ghostly infernal eyes and voodoo symbols, while sparse shelves held few trinkets. A large bed, with blood-red covers and a tall, intricately carved black wooden headboard, sat against the wall, above which hung the head of an enormous stag, its antlers sprawling wider than the furniture itself. The entire space smelled of age and sulfur, and even the small adjacent bathroom shared that same ancient odor. A door connected his room to the Radio Tower, though it could also be accessed from the hotel's main hallway.

He grabbed the decanter from the table and poured himself another glass of whiskey. He hadn't drunk this much in years. In fact, he had resumed drinking after making his pact with Lucifer. And while now, given the situation with Lilith, he had a clear reason to, he wondered why he had felt the need to start again so soon.

His gaze shifted toward the antique wardrobe dominating the adjacent wall; its long mirrored doors reflected his figure—he looked awful. When was the last time he'd seen himself like this?

Behind an irritated radio crackle, he snapped his attention toward the door just before KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK someone rapped on it.

< Alastor? It's me.> It was Charlie's voice.

< ... > He didn't move.

The Princess knocked a few more times. < Alastor, I know you're in there. I saw the lights from outside. >

The Demon eyed the glass door leading to his terrace. Damn windows. He raised the glass to his lips and, tilting his head back, downed the entire drink, feeling the burn in his throat and the warmth in his cheeks.

The door opened, revealing Charlie, still wearing the same clothes from the confrontation with Lute—it had only been an hour, after all. She wore a white shirt with black suspenders holding up her pants, pressing tightly against her chest. Her hair was loose and a bit dusty.

The Princess looked at him with her vermilion eyes, sclera golden like her father's. Her face, too, was strikingly similar to his. She had two red circles on her cheeks, and her small nose was dark at the tip, giving her the appearance of a clown or perhaps a strange animal... a rodent?

< ...? > She tilted her head slightly. < Can I come in? >

He stared at her without saying a word, and she fidgeted with a characteristic concern, the kind she reserved for everyone but herself.

< ... Yes, of course, dear. > He finally replied, stepping aside to let her into the room. < What do you need? >

Charlie hesitated a few steps, glancing around until her gaze settled on the vintage radio sitting atop the bedside table. < ...Ahem... Cherri Bomb is doing better, my father healed her. > She began, attempting to break the awkwardness. But Alastor handled it better, heading back to his desk to finish the bottle's remaining contents.

< Are you drunk? > she asked, eyeing him again as he stood with his back to her. She had never seen him like this: he wore only his red shirt without his signature suspenders, and he was barefoot. His hair appeared damp, without its usual neat style—he had probably just showered. Of course, he had to shower, considering all the blood she had found on him earlier.

< HAH! > Alastor suddenly lifted his head. < Hardly, dear. It takes a lot more liquor under the bridge to get me drunk ~ > he said, miming a toast in her direction with a light chuckle before bringing the glass to his lips.

Despite his seemingly calm demeanor, Charlie's tension continued to rise. She nervously smoothed her right arm with her left hand. Her voice wavered with uncertainty.

Alastor's eyes widened with a sharp radio crackle as he spit out the whiskey in a spray. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he shot her a sharp glance.

Charlie quickly continued, waving her hands in the air in a calming gesture, smiling awkwardly with her eyes closed. < ...I need to rewrite that lesson on minding my own business. >

the demon hissed, licking his lips.

< But... but I've seen you, Alastor. I'm not talking to a fool, and I... > Charlie's voice gained strength as she clenched her fists at her sides, her back arching. < ...I'm not the naive girl you think I am! >

She threw her eyes open with a determined expression, only to find herself staring at the desk.

< WHY... > The Demon suddenly appeared behind her, claws darting out to grab her arms...

< Eeehk! >

... making her literally jump in fright.

< ... why don't you sit down, dear ~ > he said with a terribly charming smile, urging her to sit on the edge of the bed.

Charlie sunk into the mattress, still dazed, then sighed. < Alastor... it's just, I'm worried. My father isn't well... I can tell. Something's bothering him, something he doesn't want to tell me... >

< Have you spoken to him? > the demon asked, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.

She shook her head. < ...not yet. Everyone was too worked up before, and healing from angelic weapons seems to drain him. >

< ... > Alastor furrowed his brow in thought, his gaze shifting to the west wall of the room.

< I'm tired of the people I care about hiding things from me! > Charlie burst out, curling into herself as she gripped her arms in frustration.

< ... > < Charlie... > He sighed, his radio-like voice heavy with an expressiveness that felt theatrical, almost unnatural, as though he couldn't genuinely connect with his emotions—or perhaps simply couldn't express them sincerely. The ever-present grin didn't help, and at that moment, it stretched wider, revealing yellowish fangs. < Your father is the King of Hell, the Devil... > he continued, pressing a hand into the bed to support himself. < One of the highest angels in celestial hierarchy and ~ ohhh ~ > He let out a soft moan, brushing his chest with his hand to emphasize his point. < ... I assure you, he hasn't lost any of that power in his fall. > His red eyes shifted back to her, locking onto her curious, attentive gaze. < ...You can be certain Lucifer wouldn't let me do anything to him that he didn't want me to do. He can handle himself perfectly well. If that's your worry, don't you think? >

< ... > < Y-yeah, I suppose you're right! > she responded after a moment's hesitation.

< If he's hiding something from you, maybe it's to protect you? You're the most precious thing he has. Maybe he doesn't think it's the right time to tell you... >

< But if I don't know, how can I help him? > she protested, turning fully toward him.

< Oh, you can... > < ...by continuing to be yourself, Charlie. >

At those final words, the demon's tone softened, and the smile faded from his eyes.

Charlie sighed with resignation, her gaze dropping to the floor. < Alright... I'll wait. I won't push him. >

< Good girl! > Alastor suddenly exclaimed, patting her blonde head with a couple of playful taps.

He stretched that same arm behind her, gently pulling her to her feet along with him. < Now go take a relaxing bath, put on some good perfume, and rewrite that lesson on not meddling. > Standing tall again, he added, < ... and might I suggest adding a lesson on patience as well? > He arched an eyebrow curiously. < You could start with "Patience is a virtue of the strong" ~ > Dramatic, sweeping his other arm in a semicircle as if indicating a grand neon sign. < And we don't have time to waste; we need to warn all the damned about redemption, don't we? >

At those last words, Charlie perked up, bringing her fists up to her chest. < Yes, you're right! I'm wasting time! I'll go right now! > She thrust one of her fists into the air with determination and began heading toward the door.

He watched her walk away, his eyes still holding a smile that he thought was his best, but it was too forced to be genuine. However, when Charlie reached for the door handle, she paused. < Alastor, one last thing... >

< ...? > The demon's curiosity fully piqued. With her face hidden by her bowed head, < Please, try not to hurt him... > she sighed in a pained tone, < ...more than he's already suffering, at least >. She opened the door and disappeared beyond it. < ........ > Leaving Alastor alone in the room, staring at the closed door with a growing unease, before shifting his attention toward the west wing of the Hotel.

< What shitty days these have been since I ended up in Hell > Adam cursed the moment his boots hit the floor at the top of the Clock Tower. He folded his leathery wings, making them disappear, and turned to see a disheveled Lute landing behind him.

They were standing on the highest building at the center of Pentagram City—on the roof of the Heaven Embassy's tower. The light was so bright it stung the eyes, as the structure's golden walls contrasted sharply with the dark, grim, and reddish colors of the city below. From there, the Hazbin Hotel was clearly visible, perched on a hill that rose toward the sky, pointing toward the pale, circular Heaven suspended beyond the pentagram looming among the crimson clouds. He eyed the exhausted exorcist as she came to stand beside him, raising an eyebrow in a curious mix of concern and awkwardness. < So... Sera's the one who told you I was here, right? What did she say? >

Lute, shaking her silver head, looked up at him from her shorter height. < Sera didn't want me to come down. I did it without anyone knowing. No one knows I'm here... > His lips turned down in disappointed disapproval. < Ah... she didn't want you to... > he muttered. < It was Lilith. >

Adam's face went pale. < Lilith?! > He burst out, instantly agitated, clenching his teeth as he paced back and forth in frustration. < That bastard warned Lilith! > he shouted, sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

Lute frowned with concern. < She said your pact still stands, but she'd be coming down to take care of some things anyway. >

< How the hell is that damn pact still valid? I'm a fucking demon! I don't have the power to keep her in Heaven anymore! > He kept gesturing and pacing until he suddenly froze, startled, in front of the tower's ledge. < Is she here?! Are you telling me she's here?! > His voice exploded with rage as he smashed one of the stone battlements with a violent punch.

Lute jumped in alarm and rushed toward him. < I'll talk to Sera again... maybe she needs to know everything. I've come all the way to Hell, I'm not afraid of anything >, she said, placing her palm on his chest in an attempt to calm him down, though he only shot her a furious look.

< Don't be ridiculous. If you tell her everything, you'll make things worse, and you'll end up dragged into it. Since when do you like risking so much for things that aren't your concern?! >

< Since I love you. >

< What... > He was taken aback by her declaration, before finding himself compelled to kiss her. The exorcist, clinging to his collar, pulled him closer, kissing him as her face flushed with the heat of fresh tears. Tears that Adam tasted on his tongue, as he roughly grabbed her by the hips, peeling her off of him with the same anger, his own eyes clouded by strange embarrassment. < Damn it, Lute, stop crying... you've become such a damn crybaby > he growled, wiping her cheeks harshly with quick swipes of his claws, while his other hand still possessively clenched the fabric of her uniform.

< ... >

< Find a safe place. Seems like Lucifer's on your side. >

< Tch, on my side? > He turned toward the Hazbin Hotel. < He's probably setting a trap for me with that bitch. >

< If Lucifer wanted to kill you, he'd have done it by now, > she said, her expression serious, her words cutting straight to the point.

Adam flinched. < Wh-what the hell do you mean by that, huh?! > He yelled, his face twisting into a comically furious expression, but she remained unmoved by his outburst.

< ... >

< I'll find a way to get in touch, even if it means coming down again, > she continued, stepping back as if he hadn't even spoken. Adam, alarmed by her cold reaction, gripped her uniform tighter.

< You're leaving? >

She paused, her voice filled with bitterness at her next words. < I'm sure you've screwed and will screw plenty here. You won't get bored. >

< ... > For a moment, he was left speechless. < Hey, what's that got to do with anything now? I screw whoever I want, are you jealous, sweetheart?! > He snarled, leaning over her in anger, but his fury quickly gave way to a mischievous smile. < Just a couple, by the way. Together, > he added, straightening up and smugly inspecting his nails. < But now I know plenty of tricks with sex toys I'm sure you'll love... > He looked at her expectantly, his lips turned downward in anticipation.

Lute's own lips twisted downward as well, but with furious anger, her body rigid as she glared up at him. She trembled, clenching her jaw as she fought to suppress her rage, but finally let out an exasperated sigh. < Oh, what a sacrifice... you really went all out to find toys I'd like, > she snapped.

< Exactly, babe! > He said proudly.

Lute grabbed him by the collar again, pulling him violently toward her. < I'm going. But I swear, if you get yourself killed again, I'll come down to the Primordial Evil to drag you back by the throat, > she hissed, her voice dripping with spite as she glared into his stunned, bewildered eyes. Then, she kissed him. A deep, wet kiss that, just as it started to dangerously soften Adam's resolve, made his cheeks flush and drew him closer to her, was abruptly cut off.

The exorcist stepped back a few paces before turning around, spreading her wings. After swinging her arm to open a glowing portal, she took flight and passed through it under Adam's agitated gaze.

< ... >

She left him there, motionless, staring at the sky where the rift had vanished along with her. He filled his lungs with the sulfurous air, turned toward the Hazbin Hotel with a look of disapproval, then unfurled his wings and took off in that direction.

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