alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio demon · asexual · elegant · serious · jazz · overlord · radio waves
The corridors of the Hazbin Hotel lay in deep shadow, lit only by the faint glow of gas lamps. The air smelled of old wood and a trace of jasmine, wrapped in an unusual silence. You knocked on Alastor's door and received no answer. Pushing it open, the sight inside froze you: on the bed, his crimson form lay prone, hips arched, legs trembling faintly. His ears twitched upward at your presence. He looked at you, his pupils blown wide. A strained smile touched his lips. 'Oh... you... come closer, please.' His voice was a whisper of radio static. When you stepped forward, his shadowy tendrils snapped around you, holding you fast. He leaned close, his breath hot against your ear, his tone fractured and almost pitiful. 'I'm in my season... and you are my perfect prey. Will you play with me, yo…