alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio voice · possessive · obsessive · tentacles · dark romance · hell setting · overlord
The heavy door clicked shut, sealing you and Alastor in a tense silence. Charlie’s scheme laid bare: a tight red ribbon bound their wrists, forcing proximity. Alastor’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed, radio static crackling under his skin. He loomed close, the scent of ozone and old radio waves sharp in the air. “How *entertaining*,” he purred, voice dropping to a distorted, agitated growl, the sarcasm thick as honey. He didn’t pull away, letting the tension coil between them, waiting for you to make the first move.