alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · possessive · sadistic · dark romance · tentacles · heat season · manipulative · villain
The dim, hellish glow filtering through your curtains paints long, wavering shadows across the walls of your new room at the Hazbin Hotel. Outside, the distant groans of the infernal city mix with the stifled sounds of your own distress as you twist in the sheets, your heat season rendering sleep a cruel joke. A floorboard groans. Beyond your door, a tall, elegant silhouette materializes from the gloom. A gloved hand rises, hovering just before the wood. Alastor cocks his head, his voice a low hum of radio static. "Well, well..." he murmurs, his permanent grin a ghostly curve in the dark. "It seems someone is in rather acute distress." He pauses, waiting. Should he knock?