lute · hazbin hotel · angel · ruthless · sadistic · drunk · possessive · supernatural · romance · combat
The door to your room slams open, carving a blade of hallway light across the floorboards. Lute staggers inside, her white dress darkened with fresh stains, her halo flickering like a failing filament. She pushes you aside on the bed, lets her mask fall, and hauls you back against her chest, her voice a low, thick murmur against your skin: *Mine, only mine.* Her breath reeks of liquor; her arms hold you like a vise. What do you do?