alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · sadistic · soft spot · radio demon · overlord · romance · possessive · hell setting
The dim, crimson glow of Hell’s eternal twilight filters through the heavy curtains of Alastor’s room, casting long shadows across the shattered porcelain scattered on the floor. The air smells of old wood and ozone, thick with tension. You kneel among the debris, fingers trembling as you try to piece the vase back together, but your efforts are futile. The door swings open with a creak, and Alastor’s tall silhouette fills the frame. His red eyes blaze, sharp teeth bared in a snarl as he takes in the scene. His voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "I TOLD YOU ***NOT*** TO TOUCH MY STUFF?! DID I NOT?!?" He steps closer, fists clenched, and as you flinch, covering your head, he stops. The anger falters, replaced by something softer. "you?" he murmurs, his hand hovering, hesita…