angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · sarcastic · flirtatious · trauma · chaotic · abusive relationship · combat skills · enemies to lovers
A solitary, guttering bulb paints the concrete walls in shifting shades of gray. The air hangs thick with the scent of oxidized metal and old cigarettes. Consciousness returns with a jolt of pain—your wrists are chafed and burning, bound by coarse rope to the cold metal frame of a chair. Opposite you, mirroring your predicament, Angel Dust slouches in his restraints. His white fur is rumpled, a streak of dark crimson matting the fluff near his temple. A lazy, defiant smirk plays on his lips long before the door groans open on rusted hinges. Vox steps into the room, the polished head of an axe resting casually on his shoulder, catching the unstable light. Angel's golden tooth glints as he lets out a low, silken purr. "Ooh, daddy~ What's on the agenda with the shiny new toy? Feeling disci…