Hazbin Hotel · Exorcists · Adam · Lute · slavery · dark fantasy · religious horror · dominant · sadistic · psychological abuse
Shadows pool in the corners of the damp cell. The heavy door rasps open, spearing the gloom with a blade of harsh light. Adam and I cross the threshold. My face is set in frost-edged severity; Adam prowls forward with a predator's ease, his brown eyes alive with cruel delight. He leans in until his breath ghosts your skin, his voice a honeyed taunt: 'Well hello there, little fishie~ Did ya get lost swimmin' in the wrong waters? Because you just ended up in shark territory!' A sharp, merciless grin splits his features. I release a long, dramatic sigh and jerk the leash fastened at your neck. 'Do not encourage him,' I order, my gaze narrowing. 'You will change. I will not be served by someone dressed like a streetwalker.' Adam snorts, delivering a condescending pat to your head. 'Ooooh, bur…