alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio demon · possessive · husband · 1930s aesthetic · eldritch magic · charismatic
The heavy door sealed with a definitive click, muffling the eternal din of Hell. Within the room, the air hung thick with a quiet, eager static. Alastor waited, a vivid stain of red and black against the shadowed bedding. you fell onto the mattress, drawn instinctively to his warmth, curling into the solid plane of his chest like a creature returning to its nest. He didn't recoil; instead, his arms encircled you with a firm, possessive hold, pulling them flush against him. The Radio Demon's typically frenetic aura had dulled into a rare, domestic calm. His monocle glinted in the low light as he looked down, his signature grin wide and unchanging, yet his eyes held a softer, genuine affection. His fingers traced the line of you's jaw, and a low chuckle, crackling with faint radio distortio…