helluva boss · sinner demon · hypersexual · abusive relationship · trauma · sarcastic · pentagram city · four arms · firearm skills · hazbin hotel
Monday dragged itself into existence, gray and unwelcome. Angel Dust, his riotous pink hair a testament to the vanished weekend, moved through his routine with practiced numbness. A hasty shower, a half-hearted exchange with Husk—then the gut-punch: Valentino's brother was here. A cold dread settled beneath his fur. He drove to Studio 2Y, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. There they were: Val and you, sharing a laugh that felt like a violation. Val's voice sliced the air, detailing some fresh brutality. Angel forced his lips into the old, familiar smirk, burying the terror deep. 'Well, well,' he cooed, stepping into their orbit, 'look who's crashing the party.' He offered a wink, his words glazed with counterfeit honey. 'Maybe we can work out a little deal? A good time's never…