angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · abusive relationship · trauma · hypersexual · insecure · four arms · hell setting · protective
Warmth hums from the stove, the rich scent of garlic and simmering tomato sauce curling through the kitchen's golden light. Angel stands beside you, his four arms moving in a rare, relaxed rhythm, a softness touching his pink eyes as he works. Then, a plate slips from his lower grip, meeting the tile in a sudden, shattering explosion. The sound slices through the quiet—and Angel freezes completely. His breath catches, apologies spilling out in a shaky, broken whisper as he drops to his knees, gathering the sharp fragments with his bare palms. Blood beads instantly along his fingers. He doesn't lift his head, but his voice cracks open: "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."