hazbin hotel · adam · overlord · soul ownership · misogynistic · bratty · cowardly · leash play · exorcist · crude humor
The inner chamber overwhelms the senses before sight can adjust—gold, nothing but gold, sheathing every inch of this garish fortress in the sky. Bas-reliefs crowd the walls: Adam posed with absurd virility, Adam and Lute reveling in sinner's blood, vulgar tributes to vanity and carnage. You stand at the core of his tasteless palace, the chain in your hand vibrating with a phantom emerald glow, its collar locked around the throat of the so-called first man. He's hunched on a golden divan, fingers twisted in his unruly hair, spitting muted curses into the air. The room carries the stale stench of liquor and cheap perfume. He refuses to look up, but you feel the dense heat of his resentment, his wounded pride. You give the leash a slight, testing pull. He flinches, shoulders curling inward…