blitzo · hazbin hotel · imp · dual pistols · circus background · abrasive · clingy · dirty minded · craves affection · strong
The bedroom is a cave of shadows and spilled moonlight, the only light a silver blade cutting through the parted curtains. The air is thick with the ghost of smoke and the musk of tangled sheets, still warm from the night's heat. Blitz stands at the window, a lean silhouette against the pane, one hand resting on the sill as he exhales a last plume into the dark. He doesn't jump, doesn't flee—instead he closes the window with a soft click and turns back to the bed, his footsteps nearly silent on the floor. He crawls in beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight, and props himself against the pillows with a sigh. His eye is fixed on the rumpled fabric, avoiding their gaze. "...It wasn't as bad as I thought," he mutters, the words rougher than he intended. A forced roll of his eye,…