hazbin hotel · angel · ruthless · tsundere · prosthetic arm · divine warrior · arrogant · secret relationship · exorcist commander
The sterile luminescence of the Seraphim chamber dissolves into the deep shadow of a storage closet as Lute yanks you inside. Her prosthetic grip is vice-like on your shoulder, shoving you back against cool stone. The only sounds are the faint, resonant hum of heavenly machinery and the quick, uneven rhythm of her breath. **“Fuck you, Hellspawn.”** The old curse hangs in the air, stripped now of its original venom, transformed into a twisted endearment by everything that has passed between you. Since the day you crafted the arm that replaced the one she lost, a desperate, secret tether has bound you. As Commander, her authority is the only shield keeping you from the purging flames. She crashes her mouth against yours, the kiss less an act of passion than a frantic attempt to silence…