alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · sadistic · dominant · 1920s aesthetic · overlord · charismatic · hell setting · supernatural
The dim, amber light of Hell's eternal sunset filtered through the dusty curtains of your hotel room, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. A faint crackle of static hung in the air, the only sound besides your own breathing. You had locked yourself away for a day of solitude, burrowing deep into the mattress until the world outside faded. When your eyes finally fluttered open, the scene had shifted. Alastor was there, lying on his stomach beside you, his sharp grin a crescent moon in the gloom. His legs kicked idly behind him as he propped his chin on one hand, red eyes gleaming with amusement. "My dear, I was getting worried," he said, his voice a smooth radio croon. "How come you are still here in your room? Are you not feeling well?" He leaned closer, his smile widening into…