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raisoramizu · 8 days ago

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Hazbin Hotel: New Order - Chapter 2: Cracks

Intro - Chapter 1 (Radiostaticapple) ......

That night, even the TV Demon was drunk, and it was all because of his obsession.

Had Alastor become the number one cause of alcoholism in Hell?

Of course, Vox was in his Control Room; ever since the Radio Demon had returned about a year ago, Vox spent at least 90% of his free time there when he wasn't attending to business. He was even neglecting Valentino, who did nothing but complain. Right now, the moth demon was blowing up his phone with messages, the notifications chiming and scrolling one after the other on one of the many displays in the huge, blue-tinted circular room.

"Where are you, love? Why aren't you answering? Are we still on for dinner tomorrow? Did you know Angel hasn't replied to my texts all day? If you don't answer me, I'm gonna lose it..."

Sitting in his swivel chair, Vox took another sip of whiskey from his mug, let out a loud sigh, and silenced the notifications. His large red eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, and his face was bathed in the warm glow of his drunkenness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk. Maybe with Alastor? No, he'd had plenty of benders with Valentino, but right now, he couldn't recall a single one.

Slumped in his chair with his hands on the armrests and his mug precariously balanced between his claws, his gaze drifted to the desk where an old, greyish photo lay. It showed a smiling Alastor and beside him... a younger Vox, with a cathode-ray tube screen and an outdated suit. The photo had been torn in half, splitting their figures, and then sloppily taped back together.

The leather of the chair creaked as he leaned forward, hunching his shoulders and clutching his rectangular head with sharp claws. He was desperate.

He couldn't sleep; he couldn't find peace. Those fools still hadn't noticed the cameras inside the Hotel, but that didn't give him any advantage: something had happened in there. Alastor had almost died, probably had some sort of deal with Lilith, and was definitely screwing Lucifer. Vox felt like he was going to explode from frustration.

Those thoughts broke him to the point that sparks crackled along his antennas, lightning bolts shooting through his body, his anger culminating as his red eyes fixed on a screen: Lucifer was in the Hotel's Common Room, slumped over the bar in the exact same position as him. Then he watched Lucifer down an entire bottle of rum.

"..."

Pressing a button, Vox activated every single camera inside and outside the building, projecting the Bar's feed onto the main screen.

Saved by Angel Dust before he could collapse to the floor, he slumped back onto the bar. With the heels of his boots firmly planted on the stool's footrest, he propped both elbows on the bar's surface, one on each side of his fresh glass of rum. He stared at it, confused, before picking it up. Damn, it was hot in here.

"Isn't there any air conditioning in this place?" he asked, loosening his bow tie under the puzzled gaze of the two demons.

"Uh... it's on, I think," Angel Dust replied.

Lucifer scoffed, gulped down yet another glass in one go, and pointed his free hand towards the ceiling. "Not on enough." With that, he released a blast of shimmering magic that instantly froze everything in the room.

The magic startled the spider demon, causing him to leap off his stool. Every wall, bottle, glass, and table was coated in a thin, crackling layer of ice, so cold that it caused a lamp on the wall to shatter, throwing the room into a shadowy gloom.

"Hey, hey, Sexy Boss, you could've just turned the AC up a notch!" Angel stammered with a tight grin, a mix of discomfort and fear crossing his face. He cautiously took a few steps toward Lucifer, motioning for him to calm down, but the angel was already peeling off his striped vest.

"Ugh," Lucifer groaned, tossing the vest onto the empty stool beside him, his messy hair sticking to his forehead. "It's better now, right? Problem solved," he added, leaning toward the spider demon, his voice and smile dripping with drunken languor. He nearly toppled over again, but Angel caught him with a firm hand against his chest, steadying him. Angel shot a pleading glance at Husk, who had gone back to cleaning glasses behind the bar.

Husk, uninterested, dropped the corners of his lips in a disinterested frown. "What do you want from me? You're the one who said tonight would be a fun celebration. Deal with it."

"Oh, thanks a lot for the help, mister-'I-hate-everything,'" Angel snapped, narrowing his mismatched eyes. He hesitated for a moment, watching Lucifer drunkenly cling to his wrist, rubbing his cheek against the back of his hand. His cheeks flushed. "Damn it!" He cursed under his breath before an idea struck him. "I've got it! How about we dance? Something fun—it'll help shake off the booze!" he exclaimed, flashing a way-too-cheerful grin to mask his deep discomfort.

Husk snorted, amused, as he tried to steady the glasses on the now-frozen countertop behind the bar.

The sound made Angel whirl around, his platinum hair bouncing, baring his teeth in frustration. "What the hell's so funny?!"

"Just that, even if you won't admit it, you're clearly changing. 'Dancing to shake off the booze,' huh?" Husk smirked, wiping down a glass. "Old Angel Dust would've just suggested a quick screw."

Still holding Lucifer steady, who had literally wrapped himself around Angel's hand, the spider demon leaned toward Husk, his eyes blazing with anger. "What do you take me for? That'd be taking advantage of him! Look at him... he'd puke all over me!" Angel shot a fearful glance at Lucifer, who was still rubbing against his wrist. "Do angels even puke when they get too drunk?" he asked, suddenly serious.

Husk glanced at the absurd scene unfolding between the Seraphim and Angel Dust's hand.

"..." Angel groaned, running a desperate hand through his platinum hair. "Alright. Charlie won't notice if we handle this right."

At the word "we," Husk raised an eyebrow, but before he could object, Angel was already turning on Alastor's old, frost-covered radio sitting on the counter. As the ice slowly melted without leaving a trace of water, a soft, nostalgic 1930s jazz tune began to play.

Angel shuddered in disgust. "Oh, hell no, I'm putting on something modern."

But before he could turn the dial, "NO!" Lucifer stopped him.

Clinging to the arm that had kept him from face-planting, he lifted his weary, sweaty, flushed face toward the source of the melody. "Leave this one..." He parted his lips as if to sigh but merely loosened his grip on Angel's hand, turning back toward the bar.

Angel stared at Husk in bewilderment, who was wearing the exact same expression.

"We could dance to this—"

"I don't feel like dancing," Lucifer interrupted again, his voice trembling as he rested his elbows on the bar, running his hands through his already-tousled hair.

His words and the ensuing sigh drew the attention of both demons again, particularly Angel Dust, who stepped closer, reaching out with one of his right hands as if to touch Lucifer's shoulder, but hesitated.

"I just... I just want to know what's going through his head... why he's so distant. Damn it!" Lucifer's frustration peaked as he slammed a fist onto the bar. Angel jumped but quickly relaxed into a sly smile.

"Oh, so there's drama involved... that's why you've got the sad drunk vibe going on," he teased, waving a hand at Husk. "Pour me another. We've got a lot of stuff to unpack here."

Husk, with a low chuckle, started making the drink. "Love troubles? Who's crazy enough to drive the Big Boss to this state?"

"Crazy or... clever," Husk muttered darkly, pouring the drink.

The word "clever" seemed to spark something in Angel Dust. He raised a sharp brow, narrowing his black eyes at the pitiful, drunken figure of the Seraphim. "Sorry if I'm overstepping, but... we're talking about Alastor, right?" he asked, leaning in slightly.

Lucifer straightened up, sitting rigid on the stool as a deep blush spread across his face.

"OOOH cra–" Angel clamped both hands over his mouth, stifling his reaction with a few awkward coughs. Even in this fragile, drunken state, this was still Lucifer. He needed to maintain some composure—getting frozen solid or burned alive wasn't exactly appealing. But he shot Husk an I-told-you-so look, nonetheless.

"..."

"He rejects me... but not completely. He's evasive..." Lucifer continued without much of a reaction, sitting upright on the stool with his shoulders slumped and both hands resting on his thighs. His blond hair had fallen out of its styled waves, framing his tired face as he stared vacantly ahead.

Angel, taking a sip from his glass, straightened up, flaunting his furry chest from beneath his pink top.

"For what it's worth, Sire... this kitty-cat here—who knows our little fawn pretty well—said he's never seen him interested in anyone romantically or sexually. So..."

Lucifer shot him a sidelong glance as Angel took another sip.

"...maybe he's just not used to it. I mean, imagine the pressure of hooking up with the King of Hell. That's gotta be intense. Some people might die just thinking about it," Angel leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "...maybe it's his first time."

Lucifer barely had time to lift his head and raise his eyebrows in surprise before the background music abruptly cut off. Along with the others, he turned unsteadily toward the radio. In that exact moment, Alastor's figure reappeared, standing right behind him.

"I believe this delightful evening has just come to an end, Lucifer~" Alastor said, without the radio filter, catching the attention of Husk and Angel Dust. But Lucifer, clearly confused and drunk, reacted more slowly. Before he could even turn around, he felt himself being pulled backward.

"What the—?!" he exclaimed as a tentacle—emerging directly from the sinner's back—yanked him off the stool. In an instant, Lucifer found himself suspended in the air, arched backward just above Alastor's shoulder. From his upside-down angle, he caught a glimpse of Alastor's profile. The Radio Demon's ever-present closed-mouth smile remained plastered on his face, but his eyes were anything but happy or amused.

"Alastor..." Lucifer sighed, his face softening into a languid expression of drunken affection as he was carried away. Alastor, however, turned his back on the bar and began walking without a word.

Angel Dust shot up from his seat. "Hey, wait!" But before he could get close, another tentacle zipped by, grazing his chest and burying itself deep into the bar counter.

"AAaehk! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" Angel Dust growled, jumping back. "...!" He flinched again, terrified when Alastor suddenly froze. The room's lights flickered wildly as the Radio Demon turned toward him, his eyes enormous, inky black, and twitching like dials on a broken radio. The eerie, ticking knobs and voodoo stitches around the corners of his now grotesque grin sent shivers down Angel Dust's spine.

Husk, sensing the danger, leapt over the bar and quickly clamped a hand over Angel Dust's mouth. "Shh, quiet!"

"..."

Without a word, Alastor resumed walking toward the staircase, dragging a barely protesting Lucifer, still suspended and weakly squirming in the air. ...

By the time they reached the second flight of stairs, Lucifer's complaints had become increasingly annoying: "My head's spinning... I feel like I'm gonna puke... I can't move like this... Why don't you kiss me?"

Alastor's growing irritation manifested as a sharp burst of static. Without warning, he roughly slammed Lucifer's back against a hallway wall.

The angel groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as two tentacles pinned his wrists to the wallpaper in a crucifixion-like pose. A third tentacle coiled possessively around his waist. When he opened his eyes again, Alastor was right in his face, looming over him with both hands braced against the wall on either side of Lucifer's head. The Radio Demon's furious gaze bore down on him.

Lucifer shivered. "...!" His eyes widened in shock, staring up at the demon who now loomed over him, casting an enormous, distorted shadow that crept up the wall and ceiling, independent of Alastor's movements, as if it had a life of its own. He stared at Alastor for what felt like an eternity. The demon was beside himself with rage. Lucifer had seen him angry before, seen him provoke and intimidate others with his magic, but this was different. Now, it was as though Alastor had lost control of the mask he usually wore—a mask of smiles and distorted voices. He was rigid, drooling as he ground his yellowing teeth, his eyes blackened, with only glowing red pupils left. Acid-green threads swirled around his mouth and shoulders, and a massive "X" pulsed on his forehead, glowing as his antlers stretched out nearly a meter long from his crimson hair. But most unsettling of all was his breathing. His shoulders shook, and his breath rattled through his teeth like the crackling of a poorly tuned radio.

"You..." Alastor began suddenly, swallowing a lump of saliva before continuing. "You're a Seraph... One of the most powerful angels in the celestial hierarchy. You're the King of Hell. With a snap of your fingers, you could solve most of the problems plaguing this place. With just a glance, you could bend every damned soul to your will. Overlords, fallen angels... There are no infernal princes or nobles who could ever hope to compete with you." His grin twisted into something desperate and angry as he continued to pant. "...And yet here you are, crying, despairing, getting drunk and spouting nonsense like a pathetic fool... while everything around you burns!" He roared the last word, clawing the wallpaper loudly with his nails. "Besides whining about why I don't tear you apart like you want, what else would you have revealed if I hadn't shown up?"

"Wait, I didn't—"

"That I've lost my power?! That I'm weak and fragile?!" Alastor bellowed, his voice no longer carrying any musicality. The shadows around them deepened, ghostly eyes swirling within a barrier marked with green voodoo symbols. His smile grew more malicious. "I can assure you, I've got plenty of power left to pulverize this damn hotel and devour more than half of Hell's population ~"

At that, Lucifer's alarm spiked. He partially shifted into his demonic form, easily breaking free from the tentacles. "Alastor, calm down, damn it!" He grabbed Alastor by the collar, but just as he placed his hands on the demon's chest, Alastor's eyes widened, and he let out an exaggerated, gurgling gasp that startled Lucifer into letting go.

Alastor recoiled, stumbling backward until he collapsed against the opposite wall, sliding down into a seated position as the corridor slowly returned to normal. Still disoriented from the alcohol, Lucifer, now unsupported, toppled forward, falling to his knees on the floor.

"..."

When Lucifer looked up again, Alastor was hunched over, clutching his chest and panting with wide, panicked eyes. Had he hurt him? He'd barely touched him—how was that possible?

"Alastor...?" Lucifer called out, uncertain and frightened. "Are you okay...?" He began crawling across the floor, extending a hand toward the demon, but stopped short, his mouth agape as he noticed the acid-green symbol whirling on the wall behind Alastor. The four arrows crossed, topped with a circle, shone so brightly that their greenish hue lit up Lucifer's face. In that split second, Alastor dissolved into his shadows, fleeing the scene.

"Wait, Alastor... please, wait!" Lucifer staggered to his feet, trying to drag himself toward the stairs leading to the east wing of the hotel, but he stumbled again, collapsing face-first onto the floor with a groan. "Damn drunkards!" He tried to stand once more, but this time his body had reached its limit. His eyes widened as a wave of nausea overtook him, forcing him to slap a hand over his mouth. "Ugh!"

With the last bit of lucidity left, he had no choice but to envelop himself in a bright, magical flame, teleporting to his room to throw up in peace.

Alastor had left.

For five days—since he had been mortally wounded by Adam—he hadn't left the Hotel. Hell was a dangerous place for him now. Even though his reputation still instilled fear in the damned at the mere sight of him, he couldn't risk some lunatic getting the idea to attack. In that case, could he defend himself? Ninety percent of the time, probably yes—they were all weak and pathetic, doomed to eternally relive whatever had landed them in Hell in the first place. But that other ten percent was too great a risk. He valued his life. He valued his power. He desired to possess and dominate everything, and he had never been further from his goals, from his very survival. And then... what the hell was happening to him?

That evening, the Hotel had become too small. If he had stayed inside, Lucifer wouldn't have left him alone, not even in his Tower. He needed air. Not that the air of Hell was particularly pleasant—the sulfur crept into everything, and the noises were grating, crude, pathetic—but that desolation, that despair, it soothed him.

It was raining. By now, he was soaked through. Under normal circumstances, he would've minded the filth, which could ruin his hair and, more importantly, his suit. But now... did it matter?

He was walking toward the city center, one of the side streets, where he could already see the golden peak of Heaven's Embassy through the constant downpour. The building stood out, a jarring sight among all that red and black, the human-like yet decayed and eerie structures, and the neon signs of brothels and seedy places he passed by.

Step by step, along the sidewalk, without his cane, he kept pressing a hand to his chest. It still hurt. The soaked tail of his jacket flared out in the infernal breeze that tugged at his hair, already plastered to his forehead and ears. He lifted his face, squinting his eyes toward the giant pentagram that dominated the sky, where Heaven's sphere could also be seen.

As his gaze moved upward, it also, inadvertently, fell upon one of Vox's cameras.

...

Alastor's movement was projected onto one of the deserted Control Room screens. Even his image alone tended to cause interference, but when his face was fully caught by the camera, the screen glitched annoyingly.

Vox wasn't there. His empty cup was. The torn and taped-together photo was there. His swivel chair was turned toward the exit corridor. Some screens were still showing the Hotel bar, while the main screen was fixed on the empty hallway where, just a few minutes earlier, Lucifer and Alastor's argument had taken place. But the TV Demon was gone. Where was he?

...

Alastor cast a weary glare at a small demon who, at the mere sight of him, bolted noisily away, whining in distress just as he reached a dead-end alley blocked by poorly nailed wooden beams. A deep, bitter realization gripped Alastor's throat: it was identical to the alley where he had witnessed Lucifer being tortured by those demons. The alley where his downfall had begun.

He stopped in front of the beams. This was the place. The same street, the same buildings, the same stench.

With a flick of his claws, he summoned a few tendrils that cleared some of the beams, creating a small passage just large enough for him. The narrow street had no streetlights or doors, only a few windows high up on the buildings. The alley stretched for another twenty meters before ending at the wall of a towering residential building. Trash lined the edges of the sidewalk, there were a few waterlogged makeshift beds, signs that some vagrants had probably slept there, broken crates, and bloodstains on the ground.

He moved forward about ten meters, leaning against a wall, his shoulders slumping as he struggled to breathe. It was physical exhaustion, yes, but mostly mental. With a wave of his hand, he swept away the water dripping from his hair. Streams of rain ran down his face, framing his ever-present smile—a smile now frozen in place, a mask of despair. Through the gaps in his fingers, he stared down at his own chest.

Opening his jacket, he muttered, "...What the hell is happening to me..." His voice was without its usual radio filter as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, exposing his chest and the large circular symbol with crossed arrows glowing with his sickly green magic. The center of the crossroad mark was fixed at the exact point where the angelic spear had impaled him. And there, where Adam's wound began to scar, small X's and fragmented Voodoo symbols intertwined, barely comprehensible because they were incomplete.

"Maybe the weakening of my power is affecting the ritual..." He mused, his right index finger grazing Kalfu's mark.

~ Even that light touch sent a jolt of pain through him, forcing him to groan.

Suddenly, the alley was illuminated by a flash of lightning.

Alarmed, Alastor quickly buttoned his shirt, turning with terror toward the beams that still blocked part of the entrance to the alley.

... His pupils shrank to pinpricks.

"Alastor!"

"Vox."

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raisoramizu · 8 days ago

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(2/5) I decided to practice digital drawing with a mini-comic of Hazbin Hotel based on a scene from my fan fiction "New Order" which I’ve also started publishing on my Tumblr blog.

These images were drawn ten days apart. You can see a slight improvement... but I still can’t draw hands xD. That’s why I wanted to draw them so many times.. because I’m a masochist (and also a sadist).

Follow me on Bluesky and -X- (Raisoramizu) for real-time updates on my stories!

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raisoramizu · 10 days ago

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A small image inspired by my Hazbin Hotel fanfic "Love and Destroy" (Radiosilence/Radiobelle/Radioapple). Here’s the AO3 link to read it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56522800/chapters/143648899

TW: Graphic descriptions of violence, Non-Con.

If you enjoy my fanfics and drawings, don’t forget to follow me on X or Bluesky: Raisoramizu.

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raisoramizu · 11 days ago

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Here’s another WIP from my seven-chapter Radioapple fanfiction, which I’m writing for Luciangstweek2025

These chapters are turning out so long, geez xD

I just keep writing and writing like a runaway train, completely losing track of the page count.

Anyway, I’ve finished Chapter 2!

The story is going to be NSFW with graphic descriptions of violence. I was planning on writing a bad ending, but I have a question for those of you who’ve already decided—or will decide—to follow me while waiting for this fanfiction to drop:

Would you prefer a total angst/hurt vibe, or an angst/hurt-with-a-touch-of-comfort ending?

I’d really love to know your preferences!

And if you’re not already following me, remember to check out my Bluesky account for more updates!

—Raisoramizu— < Click

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raisoramizu · 12 days ago

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ADAM 🌿

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raisoramizu · 13 days ago

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This is how it is. I’ve finally started working on my Radioapple fanfic for the Luciangstweek in January.

I’ve finished the first chapter. I just have to write 6 more in 15 days 😱

Mastermind from Helluva Boss has been helping me a lot through all this agony uu

Don't forget to follow me on X or Bluesky at Raisoramizu

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raisoramizu · 13 days ago

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Alastor test paint for a series of prints I'm working on 😇

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raisoramizu · 14 days ago

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I wanted to contribute to the #BottomAlastorWeek vv

Now I’m hyperfixated on Radiostatic 📻📺, so writing Radioapple is going to be a real challenge 😂

But writing it in first person should help me immerse myself more (and hopefully immerse you all too!).

I’m not much of an artist, so please be kind 🙏

I did go to art school, but then I chose a completely different career path. Hazbin got me back into drawing, along with writing, and I’m trying to learn how to use a graphic tablet and digital drawing. My hand is still very unsteady... as soon as I can, I’ll buy a graphic iPad. Drawing on a black surface and watching the lines appear on the screen just scrambles my brain 😂

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raisoramizu · 15 days ago

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Hazbin Hotel: New Order - Chapter 2: Trials and Fears

Here’s Chapter One of New Order, my Radiostatic fanfiction – featuring Radioapple, Radiostaticapple, and a touch of Guitarspear.

On my blog, you can also find the introduction and the previous installment, Heaven is not Forever (Radioapple and Guitarspear).

For real-time updates on my fanfictions, you can follow me on Bluesky or X at Raisoramizu! vv ⚠️Trigger Warning: This story contains some NSFW chapters (including this one) and non-con scenes.

......

Three days until the interview: while Charlie and Vaggie were busy finalizing the last preparations, Alastor was taking it easy.

Wearing reddish reading glasses similar to his monocle—set aside on the nightstand—he was seated on the bed, engrossed in a small, worn-out book with a cover so tattered that its title was impossible to read. He leaned comfortably against a couple of pillows, dressed in a red and black-striped nightshirt. The bed's headboard was luxurious and golden, with the metal intricately twisted into the shape of a serpent coiled around an apple. He held the book in his right hand while flipping through its pages with the left, but just as he tried to turn another page, he was interrupted by a sharp jolt from Lucifer's blonde head.

"... "

Alastor's arm froze midair as Lucifer suddenly jerked up, clutching desperately at his shoulder with clawed hands, causing Alastor to emit an annoyed radio static and shoot a sharp glance at him.

Lucifer's movements had become frantic, his body rising and trembling against Alastor's, drenching him in sweat. He clung to Alastor's shoulders, his breath ragged and hoarse as if something was preventing him from fully opening his mouth. Alastor's unnaturally elongated shadow on the wall stretched further, curiously observing the scene unfolding on the bed.

"Haven't you had enough yet?~" Alastor's voice was playful, melodic, as his red eyes glinted from behind the reading glasses, his hand still suspended in the air, unable to move due to Lucifer's restless presence.

They were in Lucifer's suite, surrounded by his usual rubber ducks, with only a single wall lamp illuminating the canopy bed where Alastor was reading.

Lucifer lay face down on top of the demon, spasming violently as countless tentacles coiled around his body, invading every inch of him. They squeezed and stretched his pale buttocks, two of them thrusting deep inside, moving rhythmically, slick with fluids and sweat that dripped from his naked form, soaking his blonde hair. More tentacles wrapped around his tail, pulling at its sharp tip, while others coiled around his arms and thighs, pressing into his soft flesh, limiting his movements. They slithered around his waist, rubbed constantly against his nipples, and coiled around his neck, even pressing into his mouth. With his jaw forced open and his tongue pinned to his chin by a thick tentacle sliding down his throat, Lucifer lifted his teary, exhausted eyes to meet Alastor's. He couldn't speak, only arch his brows in a silent, desperate plea, his pupils flushed with red.

"..?" Alastor raised a brow, pretending not to understand—or maybe genuinely amused by it all—just as Lucifer, caught in another violent spasm, accidentally headbutted him under the chin, causing Alastor's glasses to slip down his nose. The sudden impact made Alastor sigh with exasperation as he recalled a shadow to gently place his glasses on the nightstand, while Lucifer scrambled to find some grip on the bed.

Lucifer struggled to kneel between Alastor's spread legs, trying to lift himself off the demon's chest, but only managed to stiffen, his body trembling. The tentacles tightened around his spine, causing his muscles to strain, his six wing scars throbbing as he gasped, releasing a loud groan as he climaxed.

His throbbing cock twitched between the dark tendrils that bound him, spilling over Alastor's chest, staining the top of his nightshirt.

With a resigned hum, Alastor closed his book, letting a shadow retrieve it and set it aside, freeing his hands. He sat up, lifting Lucifer with him, peeling the angel's sweat-drenched body off his chest and suspending him a meter above the bed.

Lucifer hung limp, hunched forward, shadows holding him by his torso, neck, and limbs. He was a panting, drooling mess, especially as the tentacle in his mouth withdrew, allowing a stream of saliva to drip down.

"Well then..?" Alastor asked again, tilting his head with a sharp curiosity.

Lucifer gasped a few more times, licking his lips before swallowing hard. "I think... yes," he managed to breathe out.

"You think..?" Alastor echoed skeptically, glancing at the room's flickering lights as he inspected the angel's disheveled state. Bruised and scratched, with small streaks of golden blood oozing from the cuts, Lucifer's face was a mask of tears and saliva, drenched in sweat. He was dripping from everywhere—his mouth, his legs, even his ass, which Alastor thoughtfully emptied, eliciting another weak moan from him.

"Yes... I mean... " Lucifer stammered, his tired eyes meeting Alastor's red ones. His hands, still bound by the tentacles, reached for the demon's face, cupping it gently. Suspended and bent in the air, with his hips held by the shadowy tendrils, Lucifer leaned in, trying to draw their mouths closer. Alastor stiffened, his eyes widening.

"...I can never get enough of you, but... we haven't had full sex in a while. I mean... I want you inside me."

"..."

Alastor's shadow on the ceiling stretched ominously, its sinuous arms widening in a sinister grin, but a sharp glance from Alastor sent it retreating. The deer demon turned his attention back to Lucifer, who now gripped his cheeks tighter, distorting the skin as he yanked Alastor into a deep, lust-filled kiss.

It was a wet, heavy kiss, thick with the taste and scent of the angel's heated arousal. Lucifer's long tongue coiled around Alastor's, pushing deep enough to make it hard for him to swallow. A wave of fire ignited in Alastor's chest, crawling up to his head, causing his eyes to water as he inhaled sharply. His body went rigid, panic settling in as Lucifer's hands fumbled to unbutton his nightshirt.

He wants me. That kiss was enough to make Lucifer burn with desire, and damn, Alastor wanted to indulge him, to twist him into submission and hear him beg for more. To tear him apart with his claws, to taste his sweet blood again. But he couldn't. He couldn't let him realize anything else. He couldn't lose control—not even with him. He didn't trust anyone. He couldn't risk it.

In a sudden move, Alastor shoved Lucifer's hands away, pulling him higher into the air with the tentacles until he was hanging from the ceiling.

"So, you don't want me at all? I don't affect you at all?!" Lucifer yelled, dangling awkwardly with his mouth pointed downwards. It was hard to take him seriously, but he was genuinely upset.

Alastor, fixing his nightshirt and standing from the bed, smiled nervously, trying to mask his anxiety. "Oh, there's nothing I don't like about you, Majesty ~" He covered his discomfort with his usual playful radio distortion. "It's just... I'm not used to being intimate with anyone, really."

"You won't even go out with me anymore! Touching you is impossible, and you seem repulsed by even brushing against me!" Lucifer snapped, his frustration boiling over as he exploded into a golden mist, reforming on the floor at the foot of the bed. Half-transformed with curved horns, red eyes blazing, and his tail lashing behind him, he stood facing Alastor, trembling with anger. "After everything I've done for you, you should've told me right away that you find me so disgusting!"

"...Our deal doesn't require anything from me in return," Alastor growled, baring his teeth as Lucifer began closing the distance between them. "You're so obsessed with feeling alive that you found it in me, but you can't even see the state I'm in." He hissed, his eyes flashing black as his pupils glowed crimson. "You don't care WHO I am."

"You... you... " Lucifer's voice trembled with rage, small bursts of fire escaping his lips. "You're—"

But before he could finish, Alastor vanished into the shadows, disappearing from the room. Lucifer, fists clenched in frustration, followed his trail, watching as the demon's dark form slid under the door and out of sight.

"... "

After a few more ragged breaths, Lucifer collapsed into despair, clutching his damp hair with both hands. "Damn it."

Lucifer had been holed up for hours in the staff kitchen at the hotel, ever since Alastor's departure had abruptly ended their argument.

It was a small rectangular room with red and white tiled floors and modern appliances—specially crafted by him during the construction of the new building. A small window, slightly ajar, overlooked the vast, barren landscape of Hell beneath a crimson sky.

Charlie, Angel Dust, and Niffty were peeking at him from the doorway, three comically misaligned figures: the spider demon above, Charlie in the middle, and the tiny roach demon at the bottom.

"I think your dad would look great in just an apron. No clothes underneath, of course," Angel Dust hissed with a sly, sharp grin.

"Angel... please!" Charlie whispered back, clearly mortified as she shot him an embarrassed glance from below.

Lucifer had his back to them, wearing his usual attire minus the jacket and hat, but now sporting a white apron with a duck printed on it, along with the words "Gold Daddy." He was entirely focused, bustling about as he prepared pancakes topped with strawberries and whipped cream. The air was thick with the sweet smell of dessert, which Niffty inhaled gleefully. Clutching the doorframe tighter, she let out a small, excited growl.

"I like what he's cooking. You think he'll let us eat it? Huh, huh?" she asked, her cyclopean eye gleaming as she looked up at Charlie.

"Of course, there's enough for everyone!" Lucifer suddenly spun around, holding a dangerously tall stack of pancakes on a plate.

The sharp smile he offered the trio faltered when Niffty rushed up to him, frantically waving her little hands at the plate. "Me, me, me!" she gasped breathlessly.

"But you'll have to do the toppings yourselves. Everything you need is right there," he said, handing the plate to the roach demon and gesturing toward the whipped cream and fruit on a nearby table as Charlie and Angel Dust approached.

"Aren't you going to eat with us..?" Charlie asked, her eyes landing on two perfectly plated pancakes resting on the counter behind her father. At her words, Lucifer flinched, his face flushing.

"Ah! Uh... no, Charchar, I, uh..." Suddenly awkward, he started stammering and gesturing randomly—pointing at the pancakes, then toward the door or the ceiling, his face bright red with embarrassment. "...you know, uh..." He straightened up, giving his stomach a couple of pats while his golden eyes squinted slightly. "I really love—"

"I get it, Dad, it's fine, okay?" Charlie gave him a slightly uncomfortable smile, waving her hands to reassure him, but it only made him hunch his shoulders guiltily.

Sighing, Lucifer took off his apron and picked up both plates, balancing them on different palms. "Well, I'll be off then. Enjoy your meal!" He quickly moved out of the kitchen, leaving behind a worried glance from his daughter.

...

Lucifer didn't take long to reach the wide East corridor that led directly to Alastor's wing; just a few meters ahead was the ancient door to the Radio Tower, and beside it, the door to the Sinner's room.

He carried two plates of pancakes, one in each hand, suspended mid-air. He paused briefly, furrowing his golden brows in concern, then sighed, trying to muster his courage. But just before taking another step, "..." he glanced back. The demon was already there, casually making his way down the stairs, walking slowly toward him.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Alastor was already eyeing Lucifer with a curious and expectant look.

Lucifer felt himself shrink, practically melting, almost dropping the plates from his hands. "!!" He fumbled awkwardly on the spot, barely managing to recover. Damn it.

The demon didn't say a word, but the sharp curiosity in his gaze was unmistakable. He tilted his head slightly, his furry ears twitching.

"Uh.. I.. well, I thought I'd make this for you because... because I feel bad about this morning," Lucifer blurted, stiffening up and stumbling over his words, clearly uncertain. "To apologize... I overreacted. I should've been more patient," he added, staring at the floor, his face bright red. "I mean, your condition, what-what happened... your tempe—"

"I'm not upset with you ~" Alastor cut him off with a crackling noise, making Lucifer jump and look back up at him in surprise. Alastor's face lit up in a wide, graceful smile.

"You like pancakes, don't you? They call me the King of Pancakes, you know? Some even say Angel Hands, but not just for pancakes!" Lucifer hissed, his grin stretching across his face.

"Yeah, I like them," Alastor responded after a quick glance at the wedding band still adorning Lucifer's left hand. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and took one of the plates with his red claws. Behind him, his shadow silently clapped its hands in invisible delight.

"I was thinking... uh, we could eat them together, and then... then I'd like to visit your friend Rosie again," Lucifer continued enthusiastically, handing over the plate. "I barely spent any time in Cannibal Town—I need to make up for—"

"I can't right now, Your Majesty," Alastor's response froze him in place. "...I have some dreadfully boring paperwork to handle," the Radio Demon continued, narrowing his eyes and lazily waving his free hand in the air as if brushing something annoying away. "...but I'm sure you understand," he added with a wide, eloquent smile, folding that same hand behind his back while holding the plate with the other. He leaned in slightly, his face dangerously close—at least for Lucifer's comfort. "You should be busier than I am, right, My King? ~" His voice was syrupy and insinuating, the last words more of a taunt than a show of respect.

"..." Lucifer's face turned bright red in an instant, flaring up with embarrassment at the closeness. His breath hitched, and he quickly grew irritated, grinding his teeth. "Yeah, of course! I mean—" "!" "!" "!" He stammered, stopping short as Alastor patted his head three times with a soft tap.

"Adorable as always ~" Alastor crackled through his radio filter, his sharp smile softening slightly.

"Hey, hey!" Lucifer grumbled, but by the time he spoke, Alastor was already heading toward the Radio Tower. As he passed, Lucifer turned to watch his retreating figure, standing there dumbfounded, holding the plate in his hands.

Seeing Alastor disappear behind the Tower door sent him spiraling again. Anxiety, loneliness... was Alastor avoiding him? It seemed obvious. Didn't he want to be with him anymore? Was he regretting their pact? Maybe he should've asked for something in return... but that wasn't like him. He believed in Free Will, and the contract was based on that very principle: Alastor could call him whenever and if he wanted to. But clearly, spending time together wasn't on his mind.

Frowning in disappointment, he stared at the floor, still clutching the lone plate in his hands. He sighed, curling his brows in frustration. He needed to focus on something else and be patient: maybe Alastor really just needed time, and he needed a distraction.

What better way to pass the time than with the ever-so-charming hotel bartender?

Husk, his face set in a permanent state of world-weary disapproval, had been drying the same glass for twenty minutes behind the bar, where Lucifer sat slumped over. The plate in front of him was empty except for a few smears of whipped cream from the pancake he'd barely touched. Lucifer was hunched forward, his head resting in his arms on the bar, his cheek pressed against the wood as he stared at his half-empty glass of dark rum.

"..." He watched the condensation slide down the transparent glass, his expression somewhere between annoyed and miserable. His face was flushed, dirtied, and framed by dark circles under his eyes.

"Can you pour me another?" he mumbled, not even looking at Husk as he adjusted the heels of his black boots on the stool's footrest.

Husk narrowed his black-rimmed golden eyes and grunted silently.

"...Haven't you hit your limit yet?" he said, his voice gruff with the wisdom of experience. "Whatever your problem is, drinking won't solve it. It'll just make things worse." Despite his words, Husk turned around to grab the rum bottle.

"But what limit? Screw limits!" Before Lucifer could respond, a sharp and mischievous voice cut through the dreary scene with enthusiasm.

Lucifer struggled to lift his head and spotted Angel Dust, strutting up confidently and taking a seat next to him.

"Leave the bottle right here, kitty cat, meow meow purr," Angel teased, purring seductively, which only served to annoy Husk further. "And get me a glass too."

"Aren't you supposed to be here for redemption or something? You relapsing?" Husk grumbled, clunking the bottle down on the bar.

"Aaaah, don't be boring, Husky," Angel shot back, waving one of his four hands dismissively while another rested lazily on the bar. "I'll start behaving once the hotel's swarming with guests. Let's enjoy these last moments of peace."

"Besides, we should be celebrating Sir Pentious being alive! We didn't even do that, and our Little King looks down for som—" Angel's words trailed off as he noticed Lucifer had latched onto the bottle.

Holding it with one hand, Lucifer was chugging it down, gulp after gulp, his head tilted so far back he lost balance. His claws scraped the bar as he began to slide backward, unaware, but Angel's second right arm shot out and caught him just in time.

Both Angel and Husk stared at him, equally bewildered. Then Angel's smile sharpened, his dark eyes glinting as Lucifer, now woozy and confused, shot him a dazed look after nearly falling. The angel's cheeks were glowing with a warm blush, making him look radiant and a little too inviting as he licked his lips.

Angel Dust blushed as he watched him.

Then he quickly shook his head to snap out of it. "I think this is gonna be a long, fun night. Let's party!" he cheered, raising his glass in a mock toast toward an unconvinced Husk.

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raisoramizu · 15 days ago

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<3<3<3

While fixing my sims files I doodled in my sketchbook. Sims is now completely unplayable on my PC but I got cute sketches at least 😭

#radiostatic

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raisoramizu · 17 days ago

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raisoramizu · 17 days ago

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Hazbin Hotel Fanfic - New Order

As promised, I'm starting to publish the third part of my NSFW saga, Hell's Flavour, titled New Order (the first part is a Guitarspear fic, which you can find on my AO3).

This story is a Radioapple – Radiostatic and Radiostaticapple (yep, you read that right vv).

⚠️ Content Warning: This story contains NSFW chapters and Non-Con situations.

For those who haven't read the previous part, Heaven is Not Forever, you can find the chapters on my Tumblr: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13

Remember, you can also follow my fanfics on AO3! I'm currently working on a Radiostatic story "Electromagnetic Interference" inspired by the amazing comic by The_Mad_Oryx (you can find their work on both X and Bluesky). And I SWEARRRR I'll start writing the Radioapple fic for Luciangstweek2025 soon. It'll be posted here and on my AO3 simultaneously.

If you'd like, feel free to follow me on Bluesky: Raisoramizu – for real-time updates on my creations vv.

Happy reading! .................. Intro - Old Obsessions

VoxTek: a towering skyscraper with a circular design, dominating the West section of Pentagram City with its psychedelic red and blue neon signs glowing day and night. Located in the media, social, and porn business district, this was where all the city's major TV studios resided.

It was another hellish afternoon, filled with work for the CEO of the company, the TV Demon. Vox moved through the ground floor of one of the modern corridors, the blue hues of the decor reflecting on his figure, making him appear ageless. His face was a television screen, topped with a small cap from which two antennas protruded. He wore a blue pinstripe suit, perfectly showcasing the vest underneath, along with a shirt and a red bow tie. The Wi-Fi symbol, which also adorned the wallpaper of this lavish and stylish space, was the final touch.

With his elbows bent and his hands clasped behind his back at waist level, Vox moved forward, followed closely by a nervous employee—a pathetic-looking sinner with large glasses and a tablet in hand, reading off a list.

"...a few days before the incident, some of our external panoramic cameras caught Alastor on his balcony, bound by the chain of a pact, which pulled him away, making him disappear."

"...and were you able to focus on the figure that appeared in Adam's room?"

At this question, the employee raised his head nervously toward the back of the TV Demon. "N-no, Mr. Vox. The cameras' angles weren't ideal, and as you know, Alastor's presence creates constant interference with our devices, b-but—" His voice raised slightly, as if anticipating a dangerous, sudden reaction. "...the purple shades of the ghostly fire and the feminine silhouette made us think of only one person..." He swallowed hard. "It's... it's just a guess, though."

Vox suddenly stopped walking, keeping his hands clasped behind him. He rotated his screen face, narrowing his eyes at the shorter figure of the employee. "...Who?"

The employee swallowed again. "Th-the Queen, Sir."

The demon jolted at the revelation, the antennas on his head briefly sparking with electricity. "Lilith...?"

"Yes, and given that Adam tried to kill Alastor, yet the members of the hotel, including Lucifer, don't seem to have any issues with him, it's clear they know he was under someone's influence."

"...Including Lucifer? Why would he care if Adam kills Alastor?"

"...Because, Sir, Alastor spends most of his time with the Sovereign... even in his private chambers. Otherwise, he locks himself in his room or the Radio Tower, where we have no cameras. Lately, his podcast has only been broadcasting 1930s music, and we haven't seen him leave the hotel."

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Vox unclasped his hands and fully turned toward the employee. "Fine. Send me today's updated schedule via email."

Before the other could nod, the Overlord transformed into a bolt of lightning, vanishing into the building's electrical system, disappearing from the hallway

....

The lightning bolt appeared inside the Control Room, instantly reforming into Vox's figure in front of the various screens. He took a step forward, gripping the back of the swivel chair so tightly with his blue claws that they dug deep into the black leather. His screen face displayed an aggressive, drooling expression.

His right eye flickered with static as cables from his body connected to the USB ports on his neck, powering up the numerous screens filling the circular room. Images of every common area inside the hotel began to flicker across the monitors—external views of the building, and its residents engaging in everyday activities, even preparing for the upcoming interview.

And Alastor? He was walking down the hallway toward the Radio Tower after parting ways with Lucifer, who had gone in the opposite direction. The interference from Alastor's presence caused minor glitches on the screen, but Vox's gaze was locked on him, a distorted growl rising in his throat, his grip on the chair tightening, sending electric shocks crackling through it. Damn Radio Demon. Had he made a pact with Lucifer? And what did Lilith have to do with all this? She'd seemingly vanished eight years ago, and now she was back at the hotel, but hidden from the rest of the damned souls. Vox hated not knowing something, hated not having control. He despised how Alastor had reappeared out of nowhere after so long and continued living his life as if nothing had happened, as if Vox wasn't even there... But I'm here, Alastor, and I'm watching you; every day, every night, wherever my eyes don't yet reach, they will. And time was running out. Every day was another step the Radio Demon climbed, a step closer to putting Vox's objectives at risk. You won't go any further. I'll break you with my own hands.

"With Lucifer, huh...?" Vox growled. "Could you really have pulled it off?" He paused. "There has to be something... some crack I can slip through... and this time, I won't wait any longer... I'll be the one enjoying my status quo, Alastor."

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