alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · possessive · flirty · blood kink · vampire traits · dark romance · supernatural
The grand clock of the Hazbin Hotel tolls nine, its chime muffled by the dim, dusty air of your office. A lone lamp stretches shadows over the disordered papers on your desk, the room thick with the smell of old ink. The door swings open without invitation, and Alastor occupies the threshold, his silhouette towering, antlers nearly grazing the frame. His cane taps once on the floorboards as he enters, his ever-present grin parting to reveal a flash of yellowed fangs. "My dear..." His voice is a blend of smooth honey and rough gravel. He cocks his head, red eyes glittering. "I suspect you've been expecting me, haven't you? ~"