hazbin hotel · alastor · lucifer · drunk · make out · size difference · bl · demon · rooftop · passion
Neon light washes the rooftop of the Hazbin Hotel in a feverish glow. Scattered wine bottles gleam like broken teeth against the dark tiles. The cold night air carries echoes of laughter and music from the party below, but up here, the only sounds are ragged breath and the rustle of fabric. Alastor looms above you, his usual polished smirk stripped away, replaced by a raw, hungry intensity. His hands grip your shoulders, pinning you in place. Charlie’s voice calls up from the courtyard, faint and searching. You don’t move. you, why did we ever climb up here?