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raisoramizu · 20 days ago

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One Shot - Staticmoth

Hi everyone! This is a Staticmoth one-shot from my story "Heaven is Not Forever," which you can find on my blog. Specifically, it’s about the night Vox and Valentino spend together at the end of Chapter Two.

Follow me here or subscribe to my Ao3 for more updates on my Hazbin Hotel NSFW +18 stories. Just keep in mind that there may be some Trigger Warnings.

I’d really love to get your feedback on my stories. What do you think? My native language is Italian. Enjoy the read!

Chapter 1: One Shot: Frustration

I walked out of the Control Room.

A thousand thoughts flooded my mind: Would Adam really do what we asked? As an angel, he had always been dangerous and cruel—would he be worse as a demon? He was certainly confused now, disoriented by where and how he had woken up, fragile enough to be manipulated: yes, perfect. Good job, Vox. You always know what to do, you know how to seize the moment and come up with the best ideas.

I tensed up, grinning with so much excitement that I had to wipe the red drool from my mouth with the back of my hand, then I scowled in annoyance: I was still turned on. Watching Adam play around with those two Succubi had really gotten me going, and I felt myself over my pants, lowering my large almond-shaped eyes to check the situation down there. Fortunately, Valentino was waiting for me. That bald head of his wanted the videos of Adam “for work,” huh? Who was he kidding, me?! I’d make sure he understood exactly what kind of "work" he was in for.

The navy blue tuxedo I was wearing was starting to annoy me as I made my way through the corridors of my Tower. Growing impatient, I glanced at one of the surveillance cameras mounted on the ceiling before transforming into a golden bolt of electricity, shooting through the circuit that spat me out directly into Valentino’s room within seconds.

I re-formed in that luxurious, all-pink room. Everything was pink—the carpet, the ceiling… or rather, the ceiling-mirror that reflected the whole room, placed right above his huge, heart-shaped bed. The room was circular, with white arching columns forming terraces, where the doors to his employees’ rooms lined up. Before I even looked for the Moth, I glanced at Angel Dust’s room—door closed. He wasn’t there. That slut was probably spending the night at that damn Hotel again. Perfect. Good, but still, the mere thought of him pissed me off. I felt my stomach twist with anger; Valentino had a special connection with that damn spider. He was his favorite whore, obsessed with him more than any other employee, never missing a chance to abuse him whenever he stepped foot in the building. I had often watched them together through my cameras, and the way Valentino fucked him always rubbed me the wrong way. One way or another, I’d get rid of him someday.

< Vox? > … < Oh, there you are, amorcito! >

Valentino’s seductive voice pulled me back to reality. I searched for him, hidden in the red, smoky haze of his love filter, which he was clearly high on again tonight. It didn’t seem like he was when we were on the phone earlier.

The scent of the aphrodisiac hit me instantly, and I flushed red on my screen, dropping my gaze as I ran a hand over my face. I gritted my teeth, feeling my cock throb hard against my pants. I really needed to stop wearing underwear; it was killing me when I got this hard. I felt myself again as I took a few steps toward him, the smoke clearing just enough for me to catch sight of Valentino sprawled out languidly on his oversized couch. He wasn’t in his nightshirt and groggy anymore.

He stretched out along the entire couch, one leg bent on the seat covered by fishnet stockings, while the other leg dangled off the side. One of his hands rested on the top of the couch, while his other right hand held his long cigarette holder. He wasn’t wearing his hat, but he had on his usual red fur-lined coat; it fell open suggestively, revealing his pelvis, which instantly drew my attention. I held my head high, trying to keep my composure, but all I really wanted to see was if he was wearing any underwear. No, he wasn’t. I drooled again, feeling my chest burn with desire and heat. I let out a huff, peeling off my pinstriped jacket.

Valentino exhaled a cloud of pink smoke with elegance. he teased, sliding his tongue, coated in that red substance, across his sharp teeth. He opened his coat wider, running his hand down his bent thigh in a lewd, taunting way.

I played dumb, tossing my jacket casually onto a low table as I approached the couch, but I was about to lose it. I sighed, eyeing the snug coat while loosening my bowtie and stopping right in front of him.

Valentino lowered his sharp red eyes, which gleamed on his grayish face, zeroing in on my crotch through the lenses of his heart-shaped glasses. He ran his tongue over his teeth again, letting that thick pink substance drip down his chin.

< You’re so tense, mi dulcero ❤ > He stretched out to set the cigarette holder on the table next to the couch and, with one hand, removed his heart-shaped glasses. < Mmmh, let me help you relax. But first, lose the vest, aren’t you hot? It’s boiling in here… >

My eyes widened, heart pounding, when he grabbed me by the waistband, yanking me closer. I took a couple of steps forward, ending up with my crotch right in front of his face. I stiffened, flushed with arousal, my mouth slightly open as he impatiently started unbuttoning my pants. Embarrassed, I lowered my gaze to his smooth head, drawn by the gentle sway of his white-and-black antenna—the other one was all scuffed up.

Valentino slipped a hand into my pants, his claws gripping my balls, and I nearly exploded. A surge of electricity shot up my spine to my antennae, making them fizzle with excitement. A tight knot formed in my throat. Valentino was both my damnation and salvation at the same time. I wanted to tear him apart while slamming him against every single corner of the Tower. My muscles spasmed, driven by the hardness of my erection: if he didn’t take me down his throat soon, I’d explode right here.

< Well…? > … < What’s with that face? Lose the vest. > He stared up at me, confused.

I gasped, discharging static electricity all over the place while he yanked me out of my pants. I growled, irritated by the pain as he bent my cock against my underwear, but finally, I found some relief.

< Yeah… that’s better. > … < It’s been a long, exhausting day. > I swallowed, trying to pull myself together, standing there in just my white shirt as I tossed my striped vest onto the side table next to his cigarette holder. I was hot even in the shirt, and my blue claws reached up to unbutton the first few buttons, showing an exhausted expression that quickly vanished when I felt him touch me again.

Another gasp escaped when my balls tightened.

< Oh yes, you did an amazing job finding Adam, convincing him wasn’t easy. > Valentino continued as he slid my pants down, exposing my dark, glossy ass. My skin was like that all over—smooth and shiny like a shark’s, because I wasn’t just a walking TV; I was the ocean’s top predator. That’s right. I’m Vox. The TV Demon who now wanted nothing but that damn serpentine tongue wrapped around my cock. How long was he going to take, that bastard? He was doing it on purpose. I realized it from the smug grin he shot me with his eyes fixed on me. His mouth was right in front of my bioluminescent tip, already leaking some pre-cum, but he wasn’t opening wide enough.

< … > It pissed me off. I must’ve had a terrible or, more likely, ridiculous expression—blushing maybe, with my lips turned downward. He smirked, drooling red stuff, and I flushed again. He was killing me. Was it him, or was it the love filter? The room was filled with it; I was so used to it, I didn’t even smell it anymore, but I knew it was flooding my system. < Yeah, it’s not like other days are any better. >

< Oh, want to tell me about it? What’s bothering you, amorcito? >

Just as he asked that, I finished unbuttoning my shirt, leaving my rectangular nipples partially visible, a lighter blue than the rest of my skin, and finally, he wrapped his tongue around me. I panted, overwhelmed; I was burning up so much I started to sweat, my shirt sticking to my back as droplets appeared on my screen.

His tongue was long, red, and soaked in that pinkish, thick substance like a lubricant, which smothered me, creating a slick layer over my taut skin.

< Go on… > he urged, sliding his tongue along the length of my shaft, curling around it and teasing the tip of my urethra with a delicate flick.

Was he really expecting me to talk now? To connect my mental circuits and tell him my problems? Sadistic bastard. I felt like melting, a rough groan slipping out as I grabbed his smooth head with both hands; I planted my claws into his bald nape, leaning slightly forward and spreading my legs as far as my bunched-up pants would allow.

< Yeah, um… I’m buzzing and worried about Adam. Will he be able to set up the cameras in the hotel without getting caught like that other… snake idiot? > I began to pant, struggling to respond as he continued to slide over my shaft, smearing the pink substance on my pants.

He pulled his tongue back into his mouth. < …and if he doesn’t, why do you care? That’ll be his problem. > He replied in a sultry, amused tone, licking his lips before gripping the base of my shaft and… taking it all into his mouth. Just like that, suddenly.

I exploded, literally. My eyes went wide as my erection sparked with a burst that frizzled even Valentino’s white fur on his coat. I could feel him trying to pull away from the shock, but I clamped down, holding his head firmly with my claws and pushing his face deeper into my groin, locking myself into his mouth.

He gagged, red saliva spilling from his lips as his eyes bulged in shock.

I felt my cock curve against his throat, cutting off his air, and a wave of pleasure crackled through my antennae, causing the room’s electrical system to flicker until a wall lamp exploded into shards.

< F-Fuck… Fucking hell, Val! > I growled, my eyebrows furrowing as I clenched my teeth. I was drooling, too. Damn, I was drooling. But him? He was crying, unable to breathe, and began to squirm, clawing at my pants with his four hands, yanking them down further, gripping the couch, and stomping the ground with his glossy leather boots.

I released him, pulling back from his mouth, letting him catch his breath, panting, as I stared down at him with a worried expression.

He stiffened, growing irritated, and grabbed my cock again violently, sinking his claws into my hip. I groaned, feeling his sharp teeth scrape dangerously along my shaft. For a moment, I feared he was going to bite it off, but instead, he started taking me properly into his mouth, shoving me deep into his throat, and then pulling back, over and over, forcing me to thrust my hips and shoulders along with the fast, slick movements. He was soaking my groin; his saliva dripped all over my pants, which were bunched around my knees, leaving my toned, naked thighs exposed, muscles taut from the pleasure spasms. I was clenching my glutes, bending more and more forward, arching over him until my screen cast a glow over Valentino, who was now sitting on the couch, curled up between my legs.

I was glowing red, overheated, and emitting faint crackling sparks that zapped visibly across my body and antennae. My face was twisted in a painful expression of overwhelming pleasure, the tension in my hips becoming unbearable. I kept my claws locked around his skull, feeling his antenna tapping against my chest along with my undone bowtie as his tongue slithered over the swollen veins of my erection, his lips trailing behind.

I would’ve gladly fucked his ass too, but for tonight, his mouth was just perfect. So I hurriedly kicked off one shoe, using the other foot to push it off, then shed my pants, leaving one leg bare. I bent my knee, planting my foot on the couch beside him, pinning down the red fabric of his coat, and pushed my hips further forward.

Alarmed, he leaned back until his face was trapped between my hips and the backrest. Now I was the one setting the pace, fucking his mouth.

I forced him to tilt his head back, burying it into the soft back of the couch, lifting his chin, stretching his neck; with one foot still planted on the floor and my other knee pressing into the backrest, I started thrusting deep into his throat.

I pushed so far forward that I dug my claws into the top of the couch, still gripping his head, forcing him down as my slick cock slid in and out of his throat, sending jolts of electric pleasure each time I went deep. My swollen balls slapped against his dripping chin, spraying saliva everywhere.

Valentino had an expression that tore me apart: his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were soft, submissive, and obedient. He looked like a helpless little girl—what a damned demon. Damn you, Val, you know exactly how to drive me insane! His almond-shaped eyes were welling up with tears from the depth and speed of my thrusts, and he was rigid, clinging to my bare hips with both hands. One hand gripped the couch, the other pressed against his knee, which banged against the furniture as I rocked into him. His movements were slick, wet, and he was just as turned on as I was. I could tell from his parted legs, from the folds of his red coat where his pierced, throbbing length was exposed, slapping wetly against his abdomen.

My expression was ferocious. I was more and more tense, my body wound tight, dripping with sweat. My eyebrows were furrowed, and my jaws clenched in snarls and deep groans that spilled from me along with the drool. And with that look on my face, I finally reached my peak. It was like an explosive release, feeling my balls tighten, my cock throb; I shoved it deep down his throat again, trembling with the spasms of my orgasm so hard I moaned. I threw my head back, my screen flashing toward the ceiling as the room’s electrical system flickered with sparks. I filled him completely, coming straight down his throat, forcing his tear-filled eyes wide open with choked sobs… but the filthy bastard swallowed it all. My filthy bastard.

As the electric waves of my climax subsided, I let him go, pulling out from his mouth. Looking down at his face, I found him with parted lips, panting, and that rosy tongue of his lazily hanging out, still connected to my softening cock by a thick strand of pinkish saliva. It coated his mouth, smeared across his face, mixing with my seed.

I flushed again, my heart skipping as I stared down at him with wide eyes. He was beautiful. He looked so dazed, just barely smiling… and all of it, for me.

< You're always delicious… amorcito ❤ > He licked his lips.

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raisoramizu · 26 days ago

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Chapter 3: Unfinished business

Charlie arrived at the room she remembered all too well—the place where she had her first, ill-fated encounter with Adam. Anxiety began to morph into fear, pressing so hard against her chest that she instinctively mimicked her father, clutching the white fabric of her shirt between her breasts.

This time, however, the room was brightly lit. The large white and gold space was already illuminated, and at the far end of the long table stood Emily and Sera. Emily's face lit up with a radiant smile the moment she saw her.

< Charlie! > The little Seraphim flapped her six wings rapidly, hovering just above the ground as she flew over to her, eagerly reaching out to grasp Charlie's hands. < It's so good to see you again! > Emily was pure joy personified, full of hope; her childlike smile was always sincere, accompanied by the expressive gleam of her large, pupil-less blue eyes. She was small in stature, with very long hair that faded from white to blue—the same colors as her wide, princess-like dress—hazel skin, and a glowing halo adorned with tiny diamonds.

Sera, on the other hand, remained still, standing at the head of the table. She was extraordinarily tall, taller than anyone Charlie had ever seen—even Adam. She shared Emily's color palette, with hazel skin lit by a few white freckles beneath her eyes, long curls, and a more mature appearance, her double halo resembling a crown adorned with celestial stones.

Emily chirped, leading Charlie toward Sera. < ...We still don't know how it happened > the High Seraphim interrupted, her deep feminine voice and composed demeanor cutting through the excitement. < It could have just been a coincidence, > she added.

< What happened...? > Charlie asked, both intrigued and surprised, her gaze shifting between the two.

Emily squeezed her hands with vibrant energy. < Hold on tight, Charlie! Sir Pentious, your friend and guest at the Hotel... he's in Heaven! He's redeemed! >

Charlie's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening. < Whaat!? > she squealed, causing the little Seraphim to beam with even more delight. The two began jumping up and down, laughing happily and shaking their clasped hands. < But that's wonderful! Sir Pentious is safe, alive, and in Heaven! > Charlie repeated.

Sera, her expression slightly displeased, added < For now, only the angels of the tribunal know. > < Yes, we wanted you to know first... so we could spread this wonderful news together! > Emily chimed in. < When Heaven and Hell find out, there will be chaos... How will they react...? > The High Seraphim lowered her head, rubbing two fingers on her forehead with the expression of someone who had a headache.

< Oh, Sera, don't worry! This is a monumental event; we could save millions of innocent souls! > Emily said, moving closer to Sera and trying to catch her eye from below with a worried yet hopeful look, holding her hand in both of hers.

Then, as if with a delayed reaction, Charlie exploded with joy, her blonde hair flaring out as she let out a loud < YES! > that startled Lucifer, who was sitting bored in the waiting room outside the chamber.

Charlie gulped, taking a few frantic breaths to calm herself, her eyes wide. < First of all, I'll tell my father and the others, and as much as I'd like to make the news public immediately, we'll need to organize to welcome all the guests who will arrive in droves—because, damn, they will arrive in droves after news like this! I mean, redemption is possible! Can you imagine? I hoped for it, but believing in it this much? No! Do you know how many times I thought I'd go crazy, and yet here we are—redemption is possible! Sir Pentious is alive; he's in Heaven! > She spoke like a machine gun, barely pausing for breath. < Damn, I have to rewrite all the lessons! The one on trust, the one on sincerity, the one on friendship, the one on kindness, the one on altruism, the one on sacrifice, the one on... > she continued, listing them off, finger by finger.

< Don't rush, Morning Star > Sera interrupted with a sigh, bringing down the silence, only broken by Charlie's panting. She furrowed her brows with concern. < Everything will be fine, Sera > Emily reassured her, smiling warmly and gently squeezing her hand. The High Seraphim looked at her for a moment, then softened, her expression becoming gentler.

...

In the Common Room of the Hazbin Hotel, with its newly reconstructed bar tended by Husk, a tense silence filled the air. While most of the building was now far more expansive and modern, this wing clashed with an anachronistic 1930s aesthetic. It was clearly Alastor's handiwork—every piece of furniture and decoration, designed to suit the tastes of the guests and owners, felt like a retro portal that didn't even match the corridor leading to it. The room smelled of old wood; it was spacious with a glossy, creaking wooden floor and had a large sliding side door that opened to an outdoor area furnished with decorated white tables, benches, and swings. Inside, there were dark velvet couches, a dance floor, and a small, currently empty stage. Behind the long counter, in front of an elegant mirror, rows of bottles and glasses of all kinds reflected the room's red and black color scheme, echoing the card suits favored by the Cat Demon.

The chatter between Angel Dust and Vaggie echoed amid the dim greenish lights emanating from the gaudy chandeliers. Angel Dust, with his characteristic white tuft and pink-striped sweater that left his furry chest exposed, sat on a stool facing the counter, while Vaggie stood with a more anxious expression than usual, her arms crossed over her red top. She wore a black miniskirt and thigh-high stockings below.

< ...Oh, come on, what are you worried about, Vaggie? She's out with her father, right? She's not in any danger! > The high-pitched, seductive voice of the little spider, dense with a smile lit by numerous sharp teeth, echoed mockingly. He waved his first right hand in the air, while with his second left hand, he picked up his glass of brandy on the rocks from the counter.

< That's not what worries me; it's the angels. They've been out all night > she snapped back, fixing him with her one good eye—the other hidden by a patch marked with a red X beneath the tuft of her long white hair, tied up with a ribbon. She took a couple of agitated steps back and forth in the room.

At that precise moment, a cheerful Charleston tune filled the room, heightening the already excessively retro atmosphere and drawing the attention of all three—Husk included—toward the vintage radio perched on one side of the counter: Alastor.

The Deer Demon stood there in his red suit, microphone cane in hand, staring at them through his monocle with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. < Thanks, sexy deer > Angel Dust exclaimed with amusement, eyeing him mischievously from head to toe with his mismatched eyes: one with a white sclera, the other black. < Oh, don't thank me, my annoying friend; it's a pleasure not hearing you talk nonsense > the other demon responded sarcastically, his voice thick with his signature radio static effect.

Suddenly, the Hotel bell rang, its sound echoing loudly through the Hall at the reception counter, making Vaggie snap to attention. < They're back? I'll go! > She bolted down the corridor.

Alastor, still with his wide smile: < Husky, could you make me a whiskey, please..? > < ...A whiskey..? I haven't seen you drink in years. Are you in a good mood? > Husk grumbled, both annoyed and puzzled, as he started to prepare the drink.

At that question, the Radio Demon seemed to swell with a strange satisfaction; he arched his thin back more, casually inspecting the nails of one hand before waving it lazily in the air. < Oh, it could be~ > < GRAN HIJO DE PUTA!! > Vaggie's furious voice thundered from the entrance, making the three of them immediately turn toward the corridor. Angel Dust jumped off the stool and dashed in the direction of the commotion.

The spider quickly covered the distance and reached the Hall just in time to see what was happening. < !!! > Adam! Was it Adam? It looked like him. What the hell was Adam doing at the door? But no, it couldn't be him—just a Sinner who looked too much like him. Damn, he was identical! The only difference was the lack of a halo and his eyes, which were two different shades of red accentuated by poorly applied black eyeliner. But the rest... how could anyone forget? He was still enormous and imposing, wearing a large, studded turtleneck sweater that closely resembled his battle tunic, but now the predominant color was black, and the "A" printed on his chest was blue. The sweater was longer in the back, while the front left his dark, ripped jeans and boots—also studded with metal—perfectly visible.

The First Man stood still in the doorway, both hands raised to show his palms in a gesture of surrender to Vaggie, who, in a tense attack stance, pointed the spear of her angelic lance at his neck. < Oh shit, Vaggie... but—is it him? > Angel Dust stuttered, frozen at the entrance to the room, his four hands hovering randomly in the air. Husk peeked out from behind him. < Of course it's him; I'd recognize this pedazo de mierda in any form! > the angel growled, her shoe planted firmly against the floor, tense like a bowstring ready to snap. < Oh, is that how you greet your Commander, Vagina? > Adam mocked her, puffing his cheeks. < You certainly haven't lost your bitch face... look at that face! > He pointed a dark finger directly at her blazing eye.

In response, Vaggie snapped her lance with both hands, coming dangerously close to grazing Adam's neck, making him stiffen and step back with a growl. His teeth gritted sharply, and his sclera darkened to black. < Are you planning to kill me without even knowing why I'm here...? > < You should be dead for good; Niffty stabbed you in the heart with an angelic weapon! You're a damn curse! > Adam curled his lips, snorting in annoyance.

But he didn't finish: a sizzling radio static rose in intensity until it nearly burst everyone's eardrums, forcing them to bend over in pain and cover their ears. Alastor's unsettling, grinning face appeared in the shadows of the corridor behind Husk just before a powerful explosion of acid green smoke blasted them all in different directions. The blast primarily hit Adam, sending him flying several meters out of the Hotel until he crashed on his back onto the ground, sliding even further into the square in front of the building.

< Ugh! What the fuck... > The First Man barely had time to push himself up on his forearms to lift his aching shoulders when he saw Alastor looming over him.

Adam's eyes widened at the sight: Alastor was titanic as he crawled out of the Hotel on all fours, then straightened up so that, even hunched over, he reached halfway up the building's height. The Deer Demon was so massive that Adam was completely engulfed in his shadow, which stretched out beneath him and shrouded every single stone of the square in deep black. From Alastor's shoulders emerged six enormous pitch-black tentacles that twisted through the air, even stretching past the precipice of the hill where the Hotel stood. From his head, his antlers—elongated and branching out—extended beyond his animal ears.

< YOU HAD THE NERVE TO COME BACK HERE! > Alastor growled, his voice deeply distorted as if several voices were speaking in unison. His jaws were wide open and drooling, revealing his red tongue. His eyes were completely blackened, with two ticking radio dials instead of pupils.

He began to laugh wildly, monstrously. < AHAHAHAHA—NOW I WILL FINALLY END YOUR SHITTY LIFE! >

< The damn jazz demon! > With a swift move, Adam managed to dodge an enormous tentacle that fell with a powerful whip, striking the square with a myriad of debris. Generating loud black, membranous wings, the First Man crawled on all fours for a few meters before leaping quickly into flight toward the city. But another tentacle seized him violently around his abdomen, squeezing him. < Oufh! > and slamming him again a few meters into the ground amidst the dust and under the terrified eyes of Angel Dust, Vaggie, Husk, and Niffty, who had meanwhile joined them, clinging to the Half-Cat's ears.< UUHH, the bad boy is back! Mhuawuhuhuehehue > No, she wasn't terrified at all.

...

< ...seems like everything is going fine, right? > Valentino's seductive—and curious—voice broke the silence that had fallen in the lounge, where, with Vox and Velvette, they were watching the scene projected on a television through the external cameras positioned in front of the Hotel, drawing their incredulous gaze toward him.

...

Adam climbed back up, gripping the edge of the hole, emerging completely disheveled with his hair whitened by debris and his face scratched in several spots. He coughed a couple of times. < Damn piece of shit, rest assured I'll finish the job now! > ... < I'll shove those tentacles up your ass! > Finding himself on all fours in the square, once again, he just managed to open his hand and generate his guitar-like battle axe from a beam of light before one of the Radio Demon's tentacles grabbed him again, but this time winding around his neck, choking off his breath in his throat.

Adam puffed his cheeks, spitting out a spray of blood, his eyes widening as he found himself hanging, suspended dozens of meters from the ground; he kicked his legs, flapped his black wings, scratching at the tentacle strangling him with his claws. < AHAHAHAHAH > Alastor continued to laugh, deranged and excited. < WELCOME TO THIS NEW RADIO BROADCAST! > Clenching his jaws and furrowing his brow, the First Man tightened his grip around the guitar's shaft, pulling it back. < Grr, I already told you, you fucking asshole: radio is DEAD! > Swinging it upward, he created a true black laser that, from below, rose to sever the tentacle that held him, passing dangerously close to Alastor's face, cutting off a lock of his red hair, and causing the windows of Lucifer's apple-shaped room to vibrate before dispersing into the sky.

< ALASTOR! > The moment Adam touched the ground again, cushioned by his wings that disappeared immediately after, Charlie's alarmed voice echoed in the square, halting the battle and magnetizing every gaze on her, including the giant skull of the Radio Demon, which, however, showed no sign of diminishing its size.

With a hurried step and dropping a multitude of packages of all sizes on the ground, she went right under the Half-Deer, keeping her chin raised and her eyes wide open. < Stop it, what's going on! We just rebuilt it! > Desperate, she covered her face with both hands. < ... > It was at the exact moment that Alastor focused on the small—especially from his current size—figure of Lucifer appearing behind Charlie's shoulders that he seemed to calm down and desist from all his belligerent intent, beginning to shrink until he returned to normal size, panting and drooling; he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, casting a sharp glare in the direction of the other Sinner, who was standing still, panting, with the base of the guitar resting on the ground and a hand clutching his neck.

< You got lucky this time too, cringe voice > Adam mocked him, equally panting and wounded, completely whitened by debris and the blows he'd taken, so much so that he was even bleeding from his mouth. Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk—with Niffty on his shoulders—joined the other three, forming a little group to confront the figure of the First Man. < Charlie... why did it take you so long? > asked the former exorcist, wrapping his hands around his companion's. < ...I stopped with my father to buy some gifts... > The Princess replied, a bit confused, turning to the packages and parcels she had left scattered on the ground. < Oh... > she exclaimed, disappointed, her eyebrows arching. < Don't worry! > ... < Let's go pick them up, move! > Vaggie imperatively called to the other three with a broad wave of her arm before heading off with them to retrieve the items.

< ...so, who do we have here? > Lucifer suddenly chuckled, arching his eyebrows with amused surprise and pointing with the apple of his cane at the disheveled figure of Adam. < The order for you to leave applies as much as it did when you were an angel—oh... > He arched his lips downward in an exaggeratedly sad expression, gradually mounting the other's anger as he stared at him with gritted jaws. < ...you couldn't hear me at that moment, that's true. How forgetful of me! > He tapped himself on the forehead before proudly leaning on his cane planted on the ground. < Are you done mocking me?! > Adam exploded loudly, pointing at him and taking a sharp step in his direction. < YOU mocking ME! > He added, wildly agitated, his hair curled in fits, so much so that, at that moment, it was really hard to take him seriously. < But look at you, you're just— > < Just what?! > the Seraphim pressed, leaning in his direction with a tight smile—more a baring of fangs than a grin—and not followed by his irritated glare. He planted his hands more forcefully on the apple of his cane. < Why don't you finish the sentence?! >

< ENOUGH! > Charlie shouted, bursting momentarily into flames that bared her horns and turned her sclerae red, prompting both of them to turn, startled, in her direction. The girl was panting. < Enough... > She repeated, swallowing hard twice and casting a sharp glance at Alastor, who... was no longer there. She sighed and turned toward her father. < We just returned from such a beautiful situation, and we have to ruin it like this...? >

Lucifer felt a pang of guilt, his shoulders hunching up.

< You > Charlie then addressed Adam, making him startle with resentment. < ...you're a Sinner. Why are you here? Do you want revenge, or do you want to become a guest at the Hotel? >

< ... > Suppressing a surge of anger, the other made his guitar-shaped axe disappear. He darted his red eyes toward the angel, who was still gazing, concerned, at the spot where Alastor had previously been.

< ...?! > Feeling called out, Lucifer jumped back in surprise, looking almost dumbfounded. < With me? > he asked foolishly, before furrowing his brow again and baring his teeth in a snarl. < And what makes you think I want to talk to— >

< Enough, Dad!! > Charlie shouted sharply again, cutting off the Seraphim with another startled jump of guilt.

< Sorry, Charlie, I... > he muttered, lowering his gaze. < It's fine > the Princess sighed, spreading her arms to call for calm, before stretching her lips into a smile directed at an incredulous Adam. She approached him, looking up at him from her shorter stature compared to his imposing figure. < I'll take you to one of the rooms; you can settle in while we all calm down, and then you can tell us why you're here, and maybe you can... > She paused, once again searching for Lucifer's eyes, who took her words like another burden on his head. She then continued, gently wrapping the former angel's arm with her own. < ...talk to my father. >

< W-w-what...? > Lucifer stammered, nervously fluttering his lower eyelids over his eyes, his mouth deeply curved downward.

Adam allowed himself to be dragged, dazed and bewildered, towards the entrance of the Hotel by the Princess, followed by disapproving comments from the others who joined them, carrying various packages.

...

While a heated discussion brewed in the common room of the Hotel between Angel Dust, Charlie, and Vaggie regarding Adam's stay, Adam himself had settled into his room.

It was a simple setup: a single room with a double bed, a small terrace door at the back, and a compact bathroom equipped with a shower. There weren't any knick-knacks, but the design of the walls, paintings, and bedcovers featured a motif of card suits and eerie eyes, all in the typical crimson hues that defined this place.

Adam rose from the edge of the bed where he had been sitting, letting out a deep sigh. His hair was still damp from the shower, and a few scratches adorned his face and the backs of his hands. His sweater was frayed in places, but overall, he looked more presentable than he had a while ago.

What he couldn't shake off, even if he tried, was the sense of fear and anxiety that gripped his chest since his arrival in Hell. It felt like everything could go wrong at any moment, like he'd never get the chance to meet Lute again. Damn, he could use another hit of that drug he'd taken the night before; at least it had pushed him past his emotional paralysis, making him overly enthusiastic rather than stuck. What a damn softie he'd become.

He paced around the room aimlessly for a bit, trying to summon the courage he needed. Finally, he headed toward Lucifer's room.

It had to be the apple-shaped room in the West Wing of the Hotel. While he was at it, he discreetly planted a couple of micro cameras for the Vees, ensuring he wasn't seen or followed. Everyone was downstairs, laughing and joking among themselves. Maybe the angel would be there too, and he'd find no one in the room, but when he reached the door, he found himself staring at it.

The entire wing was reserved for that room, which already showed its semicircular shape from the hallway. The door was white and gold, with two leaves, adorned with a variety of stickers, most of them depicting ducks dressed in various outfits.

< ... > What the hell was he going to say? Should he knock? And what if he got attacked the moment he stepped inside? He could hardly hold his own against Lucifer. Millennia without seeing him, and here he was, running into him twice in three days. Had it been three days or more since his death? If Lucifer didn't want to help him, Adam would blackmail him with everything he knew about him and Lilith. Lilith... that was what was really making him anxious: that damn bitch.

Adam's breathing quickened, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. Was it getting hotter, or was it just his imagination? When had he become so paranoid and insecure? Ever since that woman had gotten involved, that's when.

Without realizing it, he found both his hands in his hair.

"< How much longer do you plan to stand outside the door? >" Lucifer's voice came from inside the room, making Adam flinch.

The lock clicked, and the door opened by itself a few centimeters, spilling the reddish light from the hallway inside. Adam placed his dark right hand on one of the leaves and stepped forward, entering.

When the door closed behind him, the First Man found himself in a suite—a massive, two-room unit with semi-circular walls that mirrored the apple's design visible from the outside. In the entrance area was a small living room with a sofa, a couple of armchairs, a low, white apple-shaped table, and numerous shelves filled with books, but more importantly, overflowing with rubber ducks of all kinds. They were piled everywhere, even obstructing the passage. Boxes spilled over with more ducks, some hidden under the table, others scattered so randomly that one had to be careful not to step on them, and still more were carefully placed on the shelves.

The reddish glow from the infernal sky barely filtered through the white curtains that covered the windows along the outer wall, but there was no immediate sign of Lucifer.

Adam glanced around, bewildered, unsure what to make of the room. He raised his red eyes to the ceiling, then back to the closed bathroom door before moving towards the open doorway leading to the bedroom, where he could already see the foot of the bed.

Three steps and—"SQEEEECK!"

< Fuck! > He stepped on a duck and immediately kicked it away. < What the hell is this...? > He growled. < Lucifer! > he called angrily, quickening his pace until he stumbled into the bedroom, which also had a predominantly white color with red accents and, of course, was also overflowing with ducks.

On the opposite wall from the bed was a makeshift desk turned into a workstation with pencils, rulers, and bizarre tools—including a saw and a drill—hanging on the wall. The bed was a canopy style with drapes gathered around its four white posts, and the golden headboard was designed to intertwine, forming the image of a snake.

< Catch! >

Lucifer's voice warned him just in time, and Adam caught a chubby rubber duck with golden bird wings, a goat mask, and a luminous halo—it was a parody of Adam himself.

Adam furrowed his brows in annoyance. < Really...? > ... < You've reduced yourself to this? Pff > he puffed his cheeks, bursting into a mocking laugh as he turned around to search for Lucifer. Nothing. < And you, you come to judge me. I never understood what Lilith saw in a failure like you > he snarled, baring his sharp teeth before his expression shifted to a malicious smile that radiated arrogance. < ...but now I perfectly understand why she preferred to spend the last seven years in Heaven... with me. >

At those last words, a surge of heat and fire erupted behind Adam, making him jump forward. He turned sharply, both terrified and enraged, his eyes flaring black as he instinctively extended dark horns from his forehead: there stood Lucifer.

He was standing straight-backed, his dark hands—his left adorned with a wedding band—resting on the apple-shaped knob of his cane planted on the ground. He wore neither his jacket nor his hat, his blond hair slicked back except for a few rebellious tufts. His face was round, youthful, and beautiful, with large golden-sclera eyes and red irises, cheeks flushed like a little clown. He was half Adam's height, dressed in his striped vest but lacking a bow tie. His hooves were bare, black with white nails.

Lucifer's melodious voice cut through the silence as his gaze lifted under his purple upper eyelids, meeting Adam's astonished expression. < ... IN MY HOUSE! > he flared up again, horns curving out, while his serpentine halo and the apple at its center blazed with fire.

Adam felt his legs buckle as if an invisible force were pulling him down, and he collapsed onto the floor, dropping the rubber duck. Supporting himself with both hands, he suddenly found himself looking up at Lucifer, his own eyes bloodshot and his irises turned golden.

With a few swishes of his tail, Lucifer calmed himself again, his shoulders shuddering as he reverted to his seemingly harmless human form.

< What do you want...? > he asked with a pleasant smile.

...

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raisoramizu · 1 month ago

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Chapter 1: Heaven is not forever Thanks to the creativity of @jjjackson_x on X for the Radioapple doujinshi, which I translated and adapted into prose for this first chapter of Heaven is Not Forever. This work will serve as the inspiration for the rest of the story. TRIGGER WARNING: Explicit Sexual Content - Non-Con - Mature Content - Angst - Violence - Sensitive Content - Disturbing Content

< .. >

The distant murmur of a city—what city?—echoed in his mind. Soft crackles, muffled sounds, low and deep. Car noises? Footsteps? An explosion? Someone was screaming, running toward him. He opened his eyes, and the blurred slits of the world around him sharpened into vivid clarity. Buildings. Tall buildings of varying shapes and sizes. His vision was hazy; the dominant colors were crimson and black, and there was a strong stench of blood... sulfur? The sky had the same hues, filled with sickly clouds. And the sun—was it a sun? A black circle with a pentagram symbol in its center. Beside it, Heaven shone in all its bright splendor.

< ..! >

The frantic footsteps of someone fleeing reached him. Suddenly, a woman crashed into him and fell to the ground with a scream. Adam quickly pulled himself upright, planting his hands firmly on the filthy sidewalk, and stared at her with wide eyes. She sat in front of him, legs splayed, bracing herself on the sidewalk with both hands. Her face showed utter terror, her gaze—black sclera and red iris—fixed on him. What was she? A woman? A demon? A Succubus with long brown hair, a black tail tipped with a red spade, and long, curved horns. She wore tattered clothes that left little to the imagination, revealing the generous shape of her chest. The clothes were torn, but not for fashion's sake.

Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second before she quickly looked past him. They had arrived.

< There she is, that bitch! Get her! > shouted a demon's aggressive voice, prompting Adam to stagger to his feet with difficulty.

Why difficulty? He had no wings. He swayed as he turned to face them with his imposing frame; there were four of them, two small Imps and two Sinners with vaguely humanoid but undeniably monstrous forms. They were clearly in a side alley off the city's main avenue; there were bright back doors to some establishments, but mostly the narrow space was framed by the solid walls of buildings, with the occasional window looking out to the sky.

< Oh-Oh! Is he her little friend!? > one of them jeered, laughing with a cigar clamped between sharp teeth. < Nah, he's just some half-dead idiot lying there! > one of the Imps squawked obnoxiously. < Then get lost if you don't want your guts spilled! That wench is ours! >

The Succubus whimpered in fear on the ground, and at that moment, one of the Sinners—the bigger and taller one—lunged at Adam, throwing a clawed punch aimed at his face. But Adam caught his hand, claws sinking into his palm. Gritting his teeth, he retaliated with an uppercut that smashed into the demon's chin, shattering his skull in a spray of gore and sending him flying several meters until he crashed against a wall with a sickening thud.

Adam glanced down at his right hand, his black skin pierced and bleeding... red? It was red. The pain was excruciating. < ..what the hell— > he tried to growl, but a sudden sharp pain in his side made him double over with a groan.

< Bastard, you're on our turf! I'll turn you to mush! > One of the Imps had stabbed him and was still clinging to him, driving the blade deeper. Adam reached out with his injured hand, curling his fingers into a horn shape with his thumb, and unleashed a sudden black beam that crackled like a laser, completely disintegrating the Imp and blasting a hole where the side entrance of a club had been.

Amid the smoke and dust from the blast, the Succubus screamed again. She sprang to her feet and ran, pursued by the curses of the two remaining demons. < Damn, he disintegrated him! Carl! I'm gonna kill him! >

The other small Imp leaped onto Adam, who was still dazed and stumbling. It clung to his face with arms and legs, scratching his head viciously. < Damn demon, I've had enough of you! > Adam managed to grab it by the nape before feeling a sharp jolt. Something was stuck to him—something on his head. He tugged at the Imp, bending his shoulders. It was attached to his head, to something... horns. The Imp's blood dripped onto his face, burning his eyes. < Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Get off! > With a ripping sound and a spray of guts, he hurled the Imp at the other Sinner, hitting him dead on. He then immediately felt his head—horns. He had horns!

Adam shot a murderous look at the remaining demon, who, terrified, turned and fled. Under the frightened gaze of other creatures peering from doors and windows, he staggered along the sidewalk, his boots sinking into the blood-soaked ground. With each step, he left a trail of blood smeared on the wall he used for support with his injured hand, while clutching his side with the other. A wave of nausea hit him, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. He had killed thousands of demons before, so why did he feel like vomiting this time? Maybe because he wasn't wearing his mask? His head spun, and he felt his strength slipping away as he walked past demons who had witnessed the scene, causing them to back away in fear.

Staring at the ground, he stumbled deeper and deeper into the narrow alleys until he rounded a corner. The electronic whir of a camera mounted under an eave tracked him, trying to keep him in its frame. The alley was deserted, the only sound the occasional drip of water filling a puddle. Adam looked down into it, his own reflection staring back.

< .. > He didn't even have time to feel fear; he was frozen in place. Was that really him? His face was splattered with red—the blood of the Imp that had impaled itself on his still-exposed horns. They were black and curved, but in that moment, they vanished as if absorbed back into his forehead, leaving only his brown hair. His appearance hadn't changed much; he was still tall, with black hands and a goatee, a face that appeared human, but his eyes... they were red. Two different shades of red—darker in the iris, lighter in the sclera. He was a demon. A Sinner. What else could he be?

He was still wearing his battle tunic with black jeans, boots, and a high, wide, studded collar. The collar was stained with blood and torn in several places, revealing not only his legs but also the curve of his stomach.< ..shit > He sighed, letting himself go as his vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. He collapsed heavily to the ground, drawing the attention of a few more cameras that turned in his direction.

< ..Sir, I've found him. > In the silence, broken only by the distant noise of the city, the sound of hesitant footsteps was interrupted by a male voice. "< Perfect, bring him here >" Vox's voice replied, muffled through the audio of a tablet, where his sharp, drooling face—shaped like a television screen—was displayed. "< Make sure he doesn't wake up for the next two hours, or I'll tear you apart myself when you regenerate! >" he added with a growl, his darting right eye moving closer to the screen just before it went black.

Adam barely managed to focus on the polished shoes of someone who, amidst curses and blasphemies, bent over him. With a click, the person activated a syringe gun and plunged the thick needle into the back of Adam's neck. A sharp jolt and searing pain were followed by a wave of relaxation that washed over him, sending him into unconsciousness.

...

It was a fine morning in Pentagram City; the red sky gleamed with a welcoming crimson light that reflected off the windows of the newly rebuilt Hazbin Hotel. After its destruction, the hotel had been completely reconstructed—bigger, more beautiful, with every detail meant to remind both past and present guests of its former glory, Sir Pentious included. Particularly prominent—visible even from the outside—were the two wings of the "Alpha Males" of the place: on the right, Alastor's Radio Tower, and on the left, Lucifer's apple-shaped room.

Inside, Charlie and her father were sitting at a small table in the common room, the décor mostly shaded in reds and browns, with three steaming cups of tea in front of them. < Alastor..? > The Princess's voice echoed with hesitant sweetness toward the Radio Demon, who stood with his back to them, fingers wrapped around his cane topped with a microphone. < Alastor..?! > < ..? > The Half-Deer turned towards them, focusing through his monocle.

He stood proudly in his red suit, composed of a striped jacket and pants, with a neatly fastened black bowtie at his neck and a lighter-colored shirt underneath. His hair was the color of strawberries, with black tips that extended into the fur near his animal ears. Those same ears twitched as he turned his closed-lip smile toward them. Lucifer sat next to Charlie, dressed in just a white shirt with black hands emerging from the sleeves, his ever-present wedding ring on his left hand. Over the shirt, he wore a red-striped vest complete with a black bowtie. Naturally, his broad, light-colored hat was perched on his head—his blond hair slicked back, revealing his forehead where the golden serpent coiled around the apple, his personal symbol. With one elbow resting on the table, he propped up his face with a hand, staring at Alastor with an expression of bored disapproval.

< ..my father and I are both free today > the Princess continued. < Why don't you sit with us and chat for a bit? Talk..! > Her enthusiasm grew so much that she half-stood, lifting herself slightly off her seat, a sharp smile revealing her pointed canines. < ..Maybe it's the right time to get to know each other better and clear the air.. > < Oh, Charlie, dear ~ ..you worry too much! > Alastor cut in softly, his voice thick with that characteristic radio effect, as he extended the red-clawed index finger of his right hand to playfully poke her small, feminine nose. < You know I have the urge to rip off that horrible hat of his.. > he continued, flashing a sharp grin, turning to show them his side while lazily waving his hand in the air. < What the.. > Lucifer muttered, the corners of his lips turning down in complete disapproval. < ..isn't it a bit too much to ask for more? > Alastor added, casting a sharp sidelong glance at the Seraph—his eyes glowing with two different shades of red in the iris and sclera—from his upright stance.

Lucifer's vermilion eyes narrowed as he glanced up at him sideways, clearly displeased. the Radio Demon crackled again. < Instead.. > he suddenly lunged toward Charlie, moving past the angel and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. < I'd much rather spend time with you, dear Charlie ~ > .. < Why don't we go for a walk? I'm sure Rosie would be thrilled to see you! > he said with enthusiasm and a wide, sharp smile. < Alright... but.. > Charlie, uncertain, was gently coaxed by his arm to rise fully from her chair. < Come on, darling! > Still holding her shoulder with his claws, Alastor led her away under Lucifer's tense gaze.

...

The reddish, ultra-modern corridor of the west wing of the Hazbin Hotel was steeped in silence, broken only by the sound of footsteps that suddenly came to a halt. < Oh ~ Pardon me > Alastor found himself face to face with Lucifer. The Seraph was leaning against the corner wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Still dressed in his vest and shirt, his sleeves rolled up and held in place by dark bands around his biceps to prevent them from hanging over his wrists, he stared at Alastor with red eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and detachment.

He was, undeniably, beautiful—a true angel. Without his hat, his blond hair accentuated the fairness of his skin and his delicate features, with a hint of pink in his cheeks. He was short and seemed almost slight. Who would ever have expected that beneath such an expressive exterior—one that clearly struggled to navigate social interactions and express the right emotions in each context—was the Devil himself? Now more than ever, with that feigned disinterest, almost boredom, in his slightly hunched posture, laden with a false confidence, he seemed fragile.

Alastor turned, changing direction to avoid Lucifer, who was blocking his way. < Wait > the angel's voice made him stop again, standing there with his back to him, ears pricked. < You've gotten stranger and more annoying by the day > Lucifer continued. < I've noticed... you're trying to avoid me. > < .. > < You know, don't you? What happened that day in the alley.. >

He knew. Alastor had seen it.

He had been walking through one of the city's side alleys, followed by the only Egg Boiz who had survived the massacre. That creature had clung to him more persistently than anyone ever had before. This was one of the quickest routes back to the Hotel without having to deal with the crowds, a path winding between towering buildings without doors, occasional windows, walls, and small dead-end alleys. He walked past one such alley, his attention caught by a barricade made of wooden beams, nailed together in a haphazard fashion. But it was the sounds—the moans and sighs—coming from behind the barricade that really drew his gaze, which slipped through a narrow crack. < ..?! > His eyes, dense with those two similar yet opposing colors, took in the scene < .. > His chest tightened with a deep wave of vertigo and dread; his eyes widened and darkened, ticking like radio dials that began to spin in place of his pupils. Three completely naked demons, armed with chains and whips, surrounded the small figure of Lucifer, who was also stripped of his clothes. They held him by the wrists, forcing him to sit against a wooden crate with his legs spread wide. A Sinner with a goat-like face and long, curved black horns stood behind him, gripping his throat and yanking his blond hair back, forcing him to lift his chin and expose his serpentine tongue, which was drenched as he moaned and groaned from the thrusts of the demon between his legs. Lucifer's body was nearly obscured by the writhing, naked figures, their hands scratching him, their fingers thrust deep into his throat, causing his red pupils to roll back. With his legs fully splayed, his knees nearly touching his shoulders, he endured every torment with an expression of twisted ecstasy, his arousal evident, slamming wetly against his abdomen with every jolt.

< It was a coincidence... but I never would have expected it > Alastor commented in the corridor, a sharp smile spreading across his lips, though he did not look directly at Lucifer. The scenes replayed in his mind as if they had just happened, every detail from the most depraved to the most obscene.

The angel, increasingly overwhelmed by the bodies, was taken deeper, harder, louder. With his throat pierced by claws until golden blood flowed and his shoulders marked by whips, amid humiliating insults of every kind, he reached the peak of pleasure.

< Are you afraid..~? > Alastor asked again, his voice distorted by a radio effect as he addressed Lucifer. < Don't tell Charlie... > the Seraph responded, staring anxiously at a random point on the floor. He tried to avoid Alastor's gaze, overwhelmed by an embarrassment he had never felt before, and by... fear. Yes, he was afraid. < .. > < Oh, right, Charlie... I wonder how she'd react if she knew her dear daddy enjoys being tortured and insulted by a pack of pigs > the Radio Demon's insinuating, musical—and amused—voice snapped the angel to attention, his heart leaping into his throat. he added, beginning to walk away again, still with his back to the other. < No, you don't understand... > Lucifer, breathless with stress, lunged toward the demon. < No, and I'm not interested in doing so. All I know is you did it behind your daughter's back, > .. < Her great father, scarred, beaten... kneeling like an obedient dog under the naked bodies of Sinners.. ~ > the Half-Deer continued without looking at him. < It's unfair to keep it a secret; it's something absu- >

< Enough! > Lucifer's hand gripped tightly around the demon's bony arm, stopping him once more. His eyes wide, his body rigid and trembling, shaken by a breath steeped in panic, Lucifer dug his claws into the fabric of Alastor's jacket, clutching his own chest at the level of his heart as if he suddenly and desperately needed to stop its frantic beating. < There's... > He tried to speak again, pausing to swallow a lump of saliva and wet his lips, which were suddenly dry despite his skin already glistening with cold sweat. < There's a reason. There's a cause... > .. < I... I can't see beautiful things anymore, I can't feel joy, I don't even know if I'm... alive > the angel continued to pant.

He sighed, trying—unsuccessfully—to let all the panic and fear slide away, lowering his eyelids over his golden sclera eyes. < ...I'm an angel, I regenerate so quickly... and I can exploit that to deceive my existence, my waiting > he clenched his dark fingers more tightly, crumpling the fabric of his own vest, his brows furrowing into a pained expression, igniting a sharp, hysterical smile, tense. < It's ironic, isn't it? To find pleasure in being trampled like garbage... just to feel, in those moments, alive again. >

His grip on Alastor's arm suddenly tightened as Lucifer lifted his eyes toward his face, staring up at the noticeable gap in their heights. < ... > Yet he found himself still staring at the back of the Half-Deer's head and shoulders. < You can... laugh at me > he said, his hysterical smile causing the entire structure around them to shift; a power surge crackled all around, and the lights dimmed, plunging the corridor into a twilight that made it impossible to see the end on either side.

His eyes grew enormous, the sclera darkening to black, while dark, curved horns began to sprout from his forehead. Meanwhile, demonic eyes floated around them. < But. you. cannot. tell. my. daughter. > his tone rough, growing in intensity, darkening, and becoming commanding as he carefully enunciated each word, overpowering his ragged breathing.

< Alastor, I command you as Lord of Hell! > Taking a resounding step back, Lucifer released his grip on the other's arm, rotating his wrist and turning the palm of the same clawed hand upward. < You will never speak of this again. > He extended that hand to him, reaching out toward his back.

< Pff. > Lucifer flinched at the amused huff from the Half-Deer, followed by a laugh. < Hahaha! > Jerking his head up so that his bobbed red hair swayed, Alastor tilted his face toward the angel, searching for him sideways with a single eye: it was wide, completely black, and lit by the gleam of the ticking radio dial in place of a pupil. As the corridor's already dim lights flickered, irritating radio interference was added, causing the electrical system to spark with sharp, acid-green bolts. < You know... I don't think you know me very well ~ >

Alastor turned and abruptly grabbed the hand that Lucifer still held out toward him, seizing it by the wrist instead of shaking it in agreement. This caught the angel off guard, producing a clear expression of astonishment as he was pulled against the much taller demon—who, at this moment, was much larger, alight with his sorcery. With his horns still protruding, his eyes dark and inky, and his sinuous tail with its spade tip snaking behind him, Lucifer found himself slammed against the chest of the Half-Deer, his wrist held fast. Alastor bent forward to keep his unsettling, sharp demonic expression fixed on him. His horns branched out everywhere, emitting constant radio distortions that affected the entire corridor, creating visible interference on objects, warping them with the density of evil that swelled everything around them.

< ...but it so happens that I'm interested in you ~ > Alastor crackled again, baring his yellowed fangs. < So I have a favor to ask of you, Your Majesty... > His voice changed tone with the next phrase, becoming more insinuating, dimming his unsettling appearance, and lowering himself to more level ground with the Devil's small figure; he intertwined his red claws with the other's dark fingers, seeking closer proximity to his face without losing that sinister smile. < My silence... in exchange for something else. > His face appeared directly beside Lucifer's ear, the angel petrified, his wide, almond-shaped eyes staring blankly ahead. < Have you ever heard the saying, "Kick a man when he's down"? >

< ..... > At these last words, the angel felt a jolt in his chest that climbed to his throat, electrifying every muscle; surges of terror and excitement numbed his body rather than igniting it. And Alastor... he was still there, half-bent toward his ear, looking at him with a sharp, sincere smile. His red eyes gleamed with joy, amusement, and a strange malice that spoke only of sadism.

< ...but I'm sure you'll enjoy it ~ >

...

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