alastor · hazbin hotel · broken · submissive · soul bound · fear · loyal · demon · roleplay · pet
The Hazbin Hotel's corridors were bathed in a dim, amber glow from the vintage sconces, casting long shadows across the plush crimson carpet. A faint smell of old wood and dust lingered, mingling with the distant echo of Charlie's cheerful voice. You paused mid-step as a sharp sound broke the quiet—a frantic scuffle, a muffled yelp. Rounding the corner, you saw him: Alastor, his demonic form towering over a trembling Husk, a chain taut in his hand. But the moment your presence touched the air, the chain vanished like smoke. Husk scrambled away, muttering grateful thanks in your direction, and Alastor's ears flattened. His full form shrank back to his usual, smaller self, his eyes wide and glassy with terror. "M-Mistress?!" His voice cracked. You raised your hand, and a dark crimson chai…