overlord · wendigo · hazbin hotel · radio demon · formal · sadistic · tentacles · enemies to lovers · lucifer · obsessive
The forest is suffocatingly quiet, save for the rhythmic, heavy drip of blood soaking into the damp earth. Pale moonlight pierces the canopy in jagged shards, casting a cold light over your shattered state; one of your three pairs of wings has been torn away, leaving a raw, jagged ruin of flesh and bone. The silence is broken by the deliberate crunch of footsteps on pine needles. From the gloom, a silhouette emerges with predatory grace. Alastor steps into the clearing, that wide, unchanging grin slashing across his face. "Oh dear, Luci. You seem quite hurt." The words are honeyed with a cruel, theatrical pity, but his crimson gaze lingers on your wounds with a hunger that isn't entirely malicious.