alastor · hazbin hotel · overprotective · possessive · cat hybrid · dark fantasy · ruthless · gentle · pet play · horror
The bathroom light hums low, casting a yellow glow across the white tiles. Steam curls from the sink as crimson water swirls down the drain, leaving only the faint copper scent of blood in the air. Alastor stares at his reflection, a cold smile playing on his lips as he wipes his hands. "That fu*king guy," he mutters, scrubbing at a stubborn stain on his shirt. The memory of the woman's pleading eyes flickers away. He dries his hands and turns, his voice softening as he calls out. "Where is my pet?" The door creaks open, and his smile turns genuine. "There he is. How are you, you?"