#dewdropdino

You were the most recent addition to the regulars of the Hazbin Hotel, and by recent, I mean you were the first person in maybe a full year to grace the doors and decide to stay for a shot at redemption. Actively participating in Charlie’s exercises, helping Nifty with cleaning, listening to Angel Dust about whatever new development occurred in his life, and helping Husk with his addiction. You were practically an angel, at least by Hell’s standards. 

All of which, Alastor found absolutely laughable. Such a poor, sweet, soul trying to get into Heaven? Don’t make him giggle. The notion that anyone could redeem themselves from their present condition was never something that appealed to Alastor, and it appealed to him even less when it came to you. Innocent, naive, you. Following his coat tails, trying to be his friend. Ugh. You had barely been there for a few months and you were already “making vast improvements” according to the princess. So Alastor did what he did best when it came to things he deplored, he degraded you with thinly veiled compliments. 

He’d grin that too-wide grin when you spoke about hope or redemption, that radio static laugh crackling in the air, as if your words were the punchline to some great cosmic joke. He’d tease you endlessly, calling you “little saint” or “our precious charity case” whenever you’d help someone or refuse to curse. You’d roll your eyes, sometimes even throw a towel at him when you caught him loitering in the kitchen just to watch you work; which, of course, only made him laugh harder. Even your push back to his insults was positively adorable! Could you be more amusing? 

But you didn’t back down. Not once. You didn’t snap at him, didn’t retreat like most did under that ever-cheerful cruelty of his. You’d simply smile that maddeningly patient smile and keep going. It confused him. Infuriated him, even. 

“You can mock me all you want, Alastor, but I think even you can change if you tried.” 

“I was a serial killer, my dear!”

He told himself he only stuck around you to see when you’d break. When that hope would shrivel and die like it always did down here. He was waiting for it. Waiting for you to crumple and give up and go back to your sad afterlife. But weeks turned to months, and it never happened.

So, somewhere along the line, he’d find himself hanging near the lounge just to hear your laugh at his corny jokes. The only one who would oblige his macabre sense of humor. He started offering to “help” with your little projects, though it was more interfering with flair. Fixing a broken lamp, helping Husk shuffle the deck properly, cleaning a mess he likely caused in the first place. It was all an elaborate game, of course, to make you trust him so he could break you… or so he told himself.

You’d thank him. Sincerely. And that, for reasons he couldn’t quite name, felt… strange. Unsettling. Because no one ever thanked Alastor like you did. One evening, you brought him tea,  black, unsweetened, just as he liked it.

 “You’ve been working hard lately, Alastor. Take a break!”

“My dear, you are truly too kind to me.”

And he meant it. You were really too kind. Bound to get manipulated by some bloke who would use you to his advantage (he, obviously, was not one of those aforementioned blokes). After that, he found himself standing a bit too close when you were near. Conversations lingered. Jokes turned softer. Compliments slipped through the cracks in his banter. 

“You’re rather clever, dear,” 

“What a radiant smile you have my dear! Truly, Hollywood material!”

Angel Dust teased him mercilessly for it, of course. 

“Didn’t know the Radio Demon had a soft spot!”

Alastor denied it with that signature grin, but his voice would come out just a bit too sharp, eyes flaring with green and black if anyone dared to insinuate he was anything but what his reputation had garnered him. But it became harder to maintain the illusion of indifference. When someone snapped at you, he’d appear out of nowhere, smile sharp as a blade, voice dripping with honey and threat until they backed down. 

“Let’s not be rude to our dear guest, shall we?”

You’d scold him afterward for scaring people, but he never apologized. Not really. Just that little chuckle of his. 

 “Can’t have anyone disrespecting such a shining example of virtue, can we?”

Slowly, he realized he’d stopped waiting for you to fail. Now he was waiting for you to come into the room, to speak, to laugh. The quiet moments without you started to feel… empty. And though he would never admit it, he’d begun to care. Ugh, such a disgusting notion that made bile rise in his throat. The Radio Demon with feelings? Laughable. Almost as laughable as he had found you at the start. The thought terrified him more than he’d ever admit. Because caring made things unpredictable. Caring made things human. And Alastor… hadn’t been human for a very, very long time.

So imagine his surprise when you suddenly told him you had feelings for him! Coming up to his radio tower late at night, a privilege only you had been bestowed. All shaky and sheepish as you fiddled with the hem of your cute little shirt.

“Alastor?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I…I think I have a crush on you…”

Oh, now that was certainly interesting! There is a pause. That eerie kind of silence that you hated started to settle. He doesn’t respond right away, of course he doesn’t, and you think for a moment that maybe you’ve just signed your own death warrant. His grin doesn’t fade, but it changes. It becomes something smaller.

“My, my, aren’t you a bold one, my dear. But don’t worry your little head, your affections are returned.”

It’s strange at first, learning how to date someone like him. Alastor didn’t do…“normal.” He doesn’t hold hands the way others do, doesn’t understand why you might want to spend quiet moments just being. But he tries. You see it in the way he forces himself to slow down, to let silence exist without needing to fill it with chatter or music. Be a gentleman just like his Mama taught him to be. He takes an odd pride in introducing you to others, too. 

“This delightful creature is mine!”

Oh, but when you got a few months into dating? When he touches you, it’s always deliberate. The brush of fingers at your wrist. The lightest touch at your shoulder. A quick hovering over your shoulder, his breath ghosting against the shell of your ear. It always made you shudder, which Alastor found so damn addicting. The little gasp you would let out was just so…delicous. Of course Alastor knew that sexual desires were a thing, he was human once afterall. But in death, he simply had no need to relieve himself in that fashion or indulge in the sin of lust. That was, until he met you. 

He could practically smell you sometimes, the way slick would rush between your thighs when he would come up behind you and put a possessive hand on your waist. And when you were ovulating, he practically sent him into overdrive. His animalistic, deer instincts commandeering control of his senses, wanting to do nothing more than bend you over and breed you. Such thoughts shocked him at first, all of it would be undignified. But the more it happened? The more he was inclined to give in. He was a sinner after all. 

And that’s how you ended up where you are now. Naked and writhing beneath him, his tongue lapping up every spill of your juices that flood their way onto his face. His more cannibalistic desires came out in full force as he practically made a meal of your sloppy pussy. He was still clothed above you, albeit more bare in his white undershirt and boxers. 

“You taste absolutely divine, mon cher. Why have you kept such sweet tastes from me for so long, mhm?”

“D-didn’t mean too—”

“Oh well, I shall make up for lost time then.”

You tentatively brought your hand up to tangle in his red locks, but were quickly outdone. A long, inky black tentacle coming to pin your wrist to the mattress, another making quick work of your other hand as well. 

“Alastor!”

“Stop moving so much, cher. Don’t interrupt a man’s meal.”

Alastor soon added a finger to his assault. Starting to slowly trust, he was taking his time to draw out every noise. He relished in the sight below him. All tied up and pretty, tasting so delightful. It was truly a sight to behold. Maybe he should keep you here, play with you whenever he wants. The thought was certainly appealing and had his trousers becoming unnecessarily uncomfortable.

Without warning, Alastor allowed a new tentacle to sheath its heavy member into your cunt with one stroke. You gasped at the stretch, gripping the sheets with each strong stroke, choking out a cry of his name. Oh, how you sounded so sweet like this. His innocent partner, all undone before him. The saint was absolutely ruined by the sinner. Maybe he did get what he wanted after all, you falling deeper into the depths of Hell with him. The velvet of your walls squeezing the tentacle so tight that with every exit and entry of the member into your cunt, caused slick to pour past your thighs onto the sheets; leaving Alastor to lap up the mess.

“Al—please, oh God!”

“I do believe the man upstairs is not present. But I shall oblige your request in his unfortunate absence.”

Alastor knows your body like it’s his and it is. Where to curl the tentacle, the right spot to hit every time that had the pressure building and building till you felt the coil in your stomach snap as you cry your lover’s name. But your whines were quickly muffled by another tentacle coming and shoving itself in your mouth, the slimy appendage fucking your awaiting throat with ease. 

Allowing you to calm down from your intense high, Alastor removed his inky bonding tentacles, watching you plop back onto his bed with no short lack of grace. Coming to caress your cheek with his hands, the gesture is surprisingly tender. 

“Now, I do believe I have found you quite addicting, my dear. Rest now, but understand that I do intend to sate my desires to their fullest tonight.”

Oh, you were never making it out of this alive.

It was supposed to be a harmless request, a simple inquiry you had for your boyfriend. You didn’t think it would land you face down, ass up on the king of Hell’s plush king sized bed; drooling and letting out incoherent praises at how good he was making you feel.

It started with watching Lucifer preform a few parlor tricks to entertain the masses of the Hazbin Hotel, cloning a few apples to juggle with. While that in and of itself was an innocent act, it couldn’t keep you from wondering what else he might be able to conjure up and clone. This lead you to pulling him aside later that night and popping the question. 

“Luci, dear. May I ask you something?”

“Why of course my love! What is it?” He was simply beaming at you from across the dinning table, as if every syllable from your soft lips was a heavenly tune he couldn’t wait but to indulge in listening to.

“About your magic act earlier—“

“Oh it was so fun wasn’t it! I am sure Charlie loved it!”

“Yes, yes. It was nice and I am super impressed but it left me wondering…can—what can you clone?”

Furrowing his brows together, Lucifer was somewhat taken aback by the inquiry. It seemed so simple to him to just clone something, the powers that come with ruling Hell seemed bland and denzinet considering how long he had been using them. Rising from his chair, Lucifer slid over to where you were sitting, propping his elbows on the corner of the table next to your spot. 

“Mhmm, I think close to everything. Ducks included. Oh I need to tell you about that time that I cloned 1000 rubber ducks for Charlie’s fourth birthday—“

“Lucifer, darling. I would love to hear that story but maybe another time? I have…another question.” Placing your hand gently on his forearm, you bring him back from reality. His eyes burning into yours with an intense curiosity, as you sheepishly smile and fiddle with a bracelet on your wrist. It was silver, adorned with a red and gold pendant; given to you on your one year anniversary as a sign of your boyfriend’s never ending love. 

“Can you…can you clone yourself?”

And that is how you ended up as mentioned before. Face down, Lucifer himself laying under you, pounding into your weeping pussy as a clone of him matched his pace as it drove into your ass. Gripping the sheets, the pleasure was blinding; with every thrust you swore you could see Heaven itself and how God himself had blessed you with such a specimen of a boyfriend. 

“Fuck—Ducky, you’re squeezing me so tight!” Lucifer couldn’t help but shudder with every thrust into your cunt, its velvety walls wrapping around him in an inviting way that almost had him cumming on the spot every time. Slowing his pace below you, he took the time to suck on one of your hardened nipples; releasing a short cry from your puffy, lipstick ruined lips.

“This what you wanted sweetheart? For me to take you like this….gosh you’re gonna take my cum so well. Gonna take it nice and deep inside both holes for me Ducky.”

A hot wave of pleasure coiled itself in your stomach, a taught line on the edge of breaking. It was unbearable…almost. Lucifer’s clone continued it’s relenting pace into your ass, occasionally coming to smack down or dig it’s nails into the soft supple flesh of your behind. 

“Come on sweetheart…cum for me—cum for us.”

Your body acted on command, letting out moans of sobbing pleasure as your release hit you like a freight train; squirting all over Lucifer. Not mere seconds later did he and his clone find their own high; cumming hard into your cunt and ass, the liquid gold seed seeping out of both holes. Gasping for air, you peeked your head down to see Lucifer’s eyes completely dialated and black; staring at the way your body soaked up his seed. Taking his fingers, he pushed some more back into your overstimulated hole with a smirk. 

The storm outside had rolled in with little warning, sheets of rain hammering against the windows and streaks of lightning briefly illuminating the dim interior of the living room. The steady percussion of thunder rattled through the walls, a deep and resonant sound that part of you hoped would block the sounds of inside. The faint glow of the coffee table lamp painted the room in soft amber light, bathing Tyler’s brunette curls in a small halo. The air smelled faintly of ozone from the storm, sharp and clean, and the smell of sex; deep and heady and undeniably sweet. 

The rolls of thunder, despite your best wishes, did little to hide the lewd slurping sounds that emitted from your boyfriend below you. Face buried deep inside your weeping cunt, hands gripping his soft curls, pulling him ever closer just to feel the brush of his nose against your clit. Panting softly, your eyes drifted down to view the sight below you. Tyler, eyes rolled back as his tongue continues his assault on your folds, half-mumbling into your cunt as his hips dare to drag against the worn upholstery. He had practically begged you to let him eat you out this evening. Pleading on his knees as he gently pushed you back onto the sofa. 

And of course, how could you refuse him when he asked so sweetly? He was stressed after all, all the training to control his Hyde took a lot out of him. So when you finally let your panties slip to the floor, it took everything within Tyler to not just devour you whole right there. 

As he continued to lap and suck, tongue swirling around your clit in that way he knew made your back arch, Tyler couldn’t help the slight shifts of his hips into the couch. Brain hazy and face slick from your previous two releases, with no intent of stopping. 

“Tch, Tyler, please–”

“Anything you want, baby. Just tell me–fuck—whatever you want.”

He couldn’t help himself. Not when it came to you. And though you had no idea what you were begging for at this point, Tyler didn’t care. He would give you the world if he could, burn Nevermore to the ground and everyone in it if it meant you would look at him like you were now. His sweet, sweet master. 

Tyler continued to absentmindedly roll his hips into the couch, nearly bucking his sensitive clothed cock against the leather. Timing his hips with every lap of his tongue against your pussy, eyes rolling back now as he could feel how close you were. Warm walls clenching his tongue. 

“You are always so fucking tight, baby–”

All you could do was moan his name in response, brain fucked out on his face. Hands coming to grip his hair tighter, tugging his face as close as you could. Tyler moaned at the feeling, stuttering softly at the pressure on his scalp. Bucking his hips faster into the couch, paying no attention to the own taught pressure growing inside him. Solely focused, with a maddening obsession, on making you squirt all over his face. 

“Wan-wanna see you cum again. Please, cum on my face, sweetheart.”

And how could you refuse? With one more roll of his tongue, you were cumming right there. Soft gasps as the pleasure overtook you, whimpering as Tyler continued to tongue-fuck you through your high. The overstimulation overwhelmed your senses as you squirted all over his face. Fuck, you had never done that before. Then suddenly, you felt Tyler pause. Looking down, seeing Tyler’s face covered in your slick, eyes blown wide to the point you wondered if they were human anymore. Pupils dilated to such a degree that it had you worried.  That was, until you saw the giant wet stain below him on the sofa and on his pants. 

“Tyler, are you good–oh fuck!”

Before you could even check in on your boyfriend, he immediately dived back in. Sucking on your clit and drinking up your juices like a starved man. His hands come to grip your hips, the crescent-shaped indents of his nails marring your skin in a deliciously painful way. Moaning his name softly, your eyes roll back in your head as you hear him whisper. 

The sign outside creaked and groaned with every pass of the wind. Nevermore itself was silent, all students deep into slumber this late into the evening. Yet, Tyler could not enjoy this silence, pacing like a caged animal. The full moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows through the tall windows. His heightened senses were in overdrive, each sound amplifying the primal instincts clawing at the edges of his mind. Ever since he lost his master, ever since this damned school accepted him as a student, the urges…became harder to control. Sure, he didn’t quite understand all the Hydes’ ins and outs, but this…this was different. 

You, a student with a unique ability to feel and control emotions, are an empath. And due to this lovely predicament of yours, you could feel the battling emotions swirling from Tyler despite being a few rooms over.  The turmoil radiating off him was a storm of lust and fear swirling beneath his rugged exterior, tinged with something you dare not speak aloud. You had learned side by side countless times, but this was a lesson unlike any other. The feral instincts that lay dormant within him were rising, and if left unchecked, they could consume him. Everyone knew to leave him alone during this time of the year, all aggressive and such. He couldn’t help it, though, those certain animalistic instincts that arose within him. And you, his loving girlfriend, had also been demanded to stay away. By Tyler himself.

By the time it hit midnight, you couldn’t take it anymore. Having his emotions constantly pressing down on you was a chore. Screw your fucking powers. You were determined to march down the hallway, knock on his door, and tell him to just wack off already so you could get some sleep for your upcoming midterms. And also, the fact that you loved your boyfriend dearly may have played a part. The floor was cold against your bare feet when you stepped out, not bothering to change from your pajama-clad state. A hand coming up to pound on his door as you called, stepping closer, voice quiet but firm. 

“Tyler, baby, you alright in there?”

Inside the room, Tyler paused, muscles tensed, eyes glinting with an animalistic edge. Oh, of all the times you had to march up here, it had to be this one. Right as he is rutting desperately like a bitch in heat into his pillow, pretending it's your tight little cunt. Your smell wafting through the door nearly sent him back into that frenzy.

"Fuck…off, Y/N!" he growled, the sound deep and rumbling, like thunder before a storm. The strain in his voice was evident even through the door. 

You sighed, hand coming to drag across your face. You had seen this before: the struggle within certain creatures, the way the primal side would push against the barriers of humanity. It wasn’t rare, at least not when you had literal werewolves at your school. And you knew this wasn’t his first one, unfortunately, since you lived so close to the man. But you had noticed they had grown more frequent, each time more violent and needy. No one to take care of him…to help him through this. Oh, fuck. What were you thinking?

"You're right," you took a cautious step forward, pushing the door open slowly. The hinges creaked softly as you padded gently into the room. 

"But I can help you. You’re not alone in this….”

He shook his head, the heat bubbling just beneath the surface, begging to come out as the scent of you that enters the room. 

“No…don’t come in. I won’t…fuck I won’t be able to control myself”

Your heart raced as you opened the door, the sight of him hunched over his bed, dry humping a pillow with a fever that was unmatched. But you refused to back down. You had always wanted to help him during these times, but he had been insistent that he would hurt you. Cause some irreparable damage. But you knew. He could never hurt you.

"Then let me help you….trust me, Ty.”

For a fleeting moment, his gaze softened, stalling his movements as he peered at you standing in his doorway. A flicker of the man you knew breaking through the storm. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”

With a deep, shuddering breath, he leaned against the bedframe, fingers curling into claws, snapping some wood as he battled the urges within. "I don’t want to hurt you."

"You won’t," you replied, stepping closer until you were just inches away. "Look at me, Tyler.”

With a deep growl, he met your gaze. His eyes dilated beyond belief as he took in the sight of you, standing before him so submissively…so eager to please. With a flash of movement, Tyler retracted his claws and grabbed your arm, throwing you on his bed as you caged you with his arms. Bringing his face down to the hem of your leggings, inhaling a deep and shuddering breath, your scent was driving him wild. His hands practically tore your leggings off, splitting down the middle. You let out a surprised gasp as the cold air met your clothed, hot cunt. With a whimper, you couldn’t help but arch your back into his touch as Tyler dragged his nose across your slit. 

“So good for me…smell so good baby…” 

Then he’s burying his face in your pantie-clad pussy, not even bothering to remove your underwear, licking and lapping all the sweet juices that flow from your needy little hole. Grabbing onto the tufts of his hair, you let out lewd moans of pleasure, slightly bucking your hips up to meet his nose, begging for some more friction. 

“Mine—taste so fucking good—“ 

Growling incoherent praises into you, Tyler slips a finger under your underwear and starts to massage your clit softly. Gasping at the sensation, the coil in your stomach becomes taut, and you can feel your orgasm coming up on you more quickly than you would like. Damn, this was turning you on more than you expected. Seeing him so feral. He relentlessly sucked and licked on that sweet spot like a man starved, making your release barrel through you with a loud cry of his name. Cum now coated his face and the bedsheets below as your high overtook you. Lifting his head slowly, chin soaked in your glittering slick, he licked his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, enjoying the slightly bitter taste. 

Without warning, Tyler took a claw and cut off your panties, letting the shredded fabric fall off your hips. Hoisting your legs up on his shoulders, he massaged the tip of his red, angry cock against your hole. Squirming at the overstimulation, not allowed a moment of reprieve, Tyler craned his neck down to your neck. Sheathing his heady member into your cunt with one stroke, he bit the corner of your neck and collarbone at the same time, marking you. 

“So tight—fuck. Made you cum and you’re still squeezing me like this.” 

You gasped at the stretch, gripping the sheets with each strong stroke. The velvet of your walls squeezed Tyler so tight that with every exit and entry of his member into your cunt, the ribs of his cock rubbed against you in a painfully delicious way. 

“Gonna fuck you so good baby….fuck a baby into you mate…my mate—“ 

Gosh, he was so hot like this. Eyes dilated and every muscle in his body in overdrive, screaming at him to hoist your legs up and press his cock deep inside of you. Fuck a baby into you….fuck a baby into his mate….shit, that sounded appealing right now to you. 

You didn’t leave Tyler’s room till three days later, and by then, let’s just say….you couldn’t walk. 

Lucifer found himself in a rare mood—one that was neither light nor playful nor duck involved. He watched from the corner of the Hotel bar as Alastor, the Radio Demon, his sworn enemy, leaned in close to you, his laughter echoing with static in the air. Alastor’s sharp smile glinted like polished teeth, his voice smooth and teasing. "Oh, Y/N, darling! You are truly a marvel!," he said, his tone dripping with mischief. 

Lucifer felt a twitch in his chest—a heat rising that was unfamiliar, yet unmistakable. Jealousy clawed at him, gnawing at his calm demeanor. How dare Alastor flirt so brazenly with his girlfriend? You giggled, a sound that felt like shards of glass in Lucifer's mind, and he clenched his jaw. That cute little giggle should be directed towards him and him alone. 

"You know," Alastor continued, seemingly oblivious to the dark aura gathering around Lucifer, "I’ve always said a girl like you deserves a little excitement. Lucifer can be rather… dull sometimes." 

The air crackled with tension, the mood shifting as Lucifer’s form began to shimmer, dark red eyes glowing and sending waves of red smoke swirling around him. His eyes glowed like embers, the familiar contours of his demon form creeping into view with his wings unfurling; towering and fierce. Jealously was a little green devil that he hated but by Hells, he wasn’t the sin of Pride to just not let his girlfriend been sullied by that god-forsaken mortal right in front of him. 

“Alastor,” Lucifer said, his voice low and dangerous, “why don’t you find someone else to amuse yourself with? I’m sure there are plenty of other souls in Hell who would appreciate your… charm.” 

You turned to Lucifer, and what started as confusion morfed into a mix of excitement and immediate arousal flooding your pants. You loved seeing this side of him, the protective, possessive nature that emerged when he felt threatened. “Lucifer, dear, we are just talking” you said lightly, but your smile held a hint of mischief. “Alastor’s just teasing.”

“Oh, but Lucifer,” Alastor chirped, unfazed, “you must admit, a little attention never hurt anyone, mhm?”

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a crackling radio transmission, playing a chaotic tune that seemed to mock the situation. The sound danced through the air, and he leaned even closer to you, an unabashedly charming smile gracing his features. Lucifer's patience wore thin, and with a growl, he stepped forward, his demon form radiating dark energy. “I don’t recall inviting you to play games with my girlfriend, Alastor,” he said, his voice a smooth, dangerous whisper.

You, caught between the two powerful demons, found the situation thrilling. The tension sparked in the air, making your heart race. “Lucifer, maybe we should just let Alastor have his fun?” you suggested, half-teasing, eyes sparkling with excitement. If all went according to you and Alastor’s plan, this was headed right where you wanted…Lucifer's glare turned from Alastor to you confusion and frustration mixing with something deeper—desire.

 “You think this is fun?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

“Not in the way you think,” you replied, stepping closer, gaze unwavering. “But I do think it’s… hot when you get all worked up.” You ran a finger down the lapels of his suit jacket, his horns shrinking slightly at the touch and wings softening. 

With a deep breath, Lucifer glanced at you, then back to Alastor, his voice steady but filled with an intensity that made you heart skip. “Just remember, Alastor, there are consequences for crossing me.” With a sudden snap, both you and your demon boyfriend were teleported away from the red and cackling radio demon into the sanctuary that was Lucifer’s room. The door’s lock rang out with a defined click and soon towering before you, Lucifer’s bright red and angry eyes bored into yours. 

“Mind explaining what that was about?” His tone was laced with frustration but you could tell what was underneath, confusion, fear, and adrenaline. A soft smirk came to grace your features as you sauntered toward him, hands laying gracefully on his chest. Your fingers came to trace one of his horns delicately, reveling in the shiver that past through he body beneath your touch. 

“I may have entreated Alastor to help me rile you up.” Your voice was nothing short of confident, as if you plan had come to fruition. Which it had. Lucifer’s eyes shone with confusion, his eyes momentarily flashing back to their beautiful original color as his lips formed a small pout. 

“You wanted me to be annoyed?’

“Not annoyed, per se. More…jealous and wanting to fuck me while you are big and powerful.”

Now that was a statement if he had ever heard one. Did he hear you right, were his ears decieving him? By Heaven, he hoped not. A ravenous sneer bloomed on Lucifer’s face, his eyes and body once again resuming his full demonic state. With a flash of white and red, the King of Hell pinned you against the headboard of his mattress. Your hands now sat pinned and body pliant to the whims and wishes of the fully demonic figure that hovered above you. And Hells, did it make you horny. Heart racing, body quivering with anticipation, every nerve seemed to sparkle with desire at the scene that played out before you. 

“So you want me to fuck you, ducky? Want me to throw you around like the little slut you are?” With quick and rapid nods, he had his answer as you writhed below him. He could smell you, how soaked you were. That damp spot on your pants did little to hide salaciousness of your thoughts and needs. Bringing a clawed finger to rip down the waistband of your pants, the fabric tore at the seams off your skin. Choking back a breath at the flash of cool air that rushed towards your panty-clad cunt, you shiver with delight as he ran a knuckle across your slit. 

“Oh, you really want this don’t you? Have barely touched you and you’re already a mess for me.” A lewd mewl passes your lips as Lucifer peeled the panties off your body, the fabric came off with an agonizing of squish of heavy damp slick. Wasting no time on formal foreplay, your body clearly ready and willing, Lucifer sank two fingers into your weeping pussy and started to scissor you wide. Plunging his large and deft fingers in and out of you, your body became lost in the erotic rapture of your senses. 

You could feel his touch everywhere. One hand digging into your hips, his mouth leaving sloppy kisses on the valley of your neck, and the other hand knuckle deep inside you in such a way you felt you mind explode. The feeling of fullness was almost an impossible feeling to describe, an ardent need as close as you could think. There he towered over you, the soft outline of his toned chest peaking through the few buttons that had come undone from his top in the frenzy of fervent activity that was occuring. His face was laced with a carnal grin, clearly lost in the rhasposdy that was playing out. He looked so angelic like this, despite his forminable appearance. Eyes shinning with ectasy, lips parted and panting, ripe for you to slip your tongue into if you weren’t getting fingered till you saw stars. He was the stars of Heaven to your mortal form, gazing upon his power and gracefullness as you laid bare and ready to worship the alter of his every desire. How faiithfully you would serve, dutifully his Hellish preist. 

The thoughts swam in your head, imagining all the ways you based and mortal soul could only but be of service to the King that hovered before you. But your Heavenly escapdes were quickly brought down the sinful indulgence of the present as Lucifer curled his fingers up into you, massaging that perfect point on the front wall of your cunt racking your body with pleasure. 

“So sweet for me, such a precious little whore. You wanted to get fucked by the big bad King of Hell? Well, your wish is my command.”

Removing his fingers with a swift motion, leaving you no reprieve, he sunk his heady and heavy cock into you with one deft motion. Both of you moaning both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved. Slowly thrusting, taking his time to draw out every noise, he relished in the sight below him. All laid out and pretty, moaning and writhing in pleasure all because of him, his power. How you had planned all of this just for him. You were truly such a loyal little sinner, so obedient and ready for him. After Lillith, he thought his life was crumbling, ready to end his own immortal exsistence. But there you came, waltzing into his life like you owned his soul and now here you were, eager and willing for him in every way he never thought possible. The thoughts alone nearly had Lucifer busting inside you, mumbling incoherently as he picked up the pace, driving deeper, the walls of your cunt squeezing onto him for dear life. The added weight and pace was becoming nearly too much. 

“Go on Ducky. Tell me….tell me how good I feel….”

“Fuck, good, so fucking good—” Sobs of pleasure racked your body, cute and plush face stained with streak of tears that Lucifer bent down to lick gently off your face. You can feel your release barreling towards you with a unrecognized speed. Maybe it was all the build up of this moment; how long you had imagined this very thing or maybe it is just that good, you’ll never know. But Lucifer knows your body like it’s his and it is. Where to drive, the right spot to hit every time that had the pressure building and building till you felt the coil in your stomach snap as you cry you lover’s name. 

Gasping for air, you peeked your head up as you calmed down, only to see Lucifer’s eyes completely dialated and black; staring at the way your body soaked up his seed. He did not move, admiring the full indent in your stomach as your body greedily swallowed his cock and cum, Heavens, he prayed it would take. 

“So ducky, feel like riling me up again anytime soon?”

At first, dating Vox felt like slipping into a luxury advertisement you didn’t remember signing up for. Everything with him was neon-lit and polished to perfection. Private screenings in glittering studios, dinners with higher-priced meals than your monthly rent, oh, and he also took care of that, too. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, his slick voice humming through every television screen like a secret meant just for you. It was intoxicating, and you told yourself it was just his charm. 

But little things began to creep in. 

You’d catch yourself losing time during conversations, nodding along to things you didn’t remember agreeing to. Your thoughts would fuzz around the edges when his eyes glitched with static, or when his voice dipped into that low, humming register that vibrated in your skull. You’d wake up the next morning in lingerie you didn’t remember putting on, or with a phone full of horny texts you didn’t remember sending. At first, you brushed it off. Vox was powerful, sure. An Overlord. But he wasn’t that powerful. Right?

That was your first mistake. Assuming that your charming, devoted boyfriend was nothing but exactly that. Charming. Devoted. Oh, and how devoted he was. Vox couldn’t stop thinking about you. In meetings, when scheming against Alastor, even when he still had the occasional fuck with Valentino. All he could see was you. Chasing after the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his painful, hard cock, the sight of hot tears welling in the corners of your eyes, those pathetic, cute gasps that would sneak past your lips with every thrust. It was an obsession. Wanting to see you beneath him constantly. 

Which is why he had no issue using a little hypnosis on you now and again to make you…a little bit more eager to slip into bed with him. A quick little flash of his eyes, and you became so willing, so pliant to his desires. Dragging him by the tie to the bed, allowing his long frame to encase you on the mattress. Lips meeting his with a frenzied need, nipping softly at the flesh of his neck, hands wandering everywhere and anywhere. You needed to get him out of that stupidly hot suit, needed him to be bare above you. 

“So needy, doll. What’s gotten into you, I wonder–”

“Come on, Vox, just take it off already!”

“As you wish. Whatever my girl wants, she gets.”

Peeling off his suit jacket and starting to unbutton his undershirt, he barely got the offending fabrics off before you were all over him again. Kissing and licking down his chiseled chest and abs, hands roaming without purpose across the expanse of his back. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as his head tilted lower, long tongue running across the supple flesh of your neck before starting to suck harshly. 

It quickly devolved into a scene of pure desperation after that, a mess of bodies and clothes on the floor. Continuing to drag his finger across your slit, you couldn’t help the lewd moan that escaped your lips as you pulled slightly on the restraints he had put in place. Two of his ties now cuff you to the expensive bedposts. You could feel the weight of his cock press against your leg as he continued dragging his deft digits across the slick that spilled from your cunt.

“V-Vox–”

“Sound so sweet, moaning my name like dollface.”

Bucking your hips up slightly, a silent plea for him to just fuck you already, Vox couldn’t help the amused laugh that left him at the sight. But being the merciful boyfriend he was, how could he not oblige you?

Slowly sliding his cock in, he stretched your needy hole. A slight shuddered groan passed his lips, both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved. Taking a few experimental thrusts, making sure to draw out every noise. He relished the sight below him. All tied up and pretty, moaning and writhing in pleasure, all because of him, his power. The thoughts alone nearly had Vox busting inside you before you had already started. Mumbling incoherently as he picked up the pace, driving deeper, the walls of your cunt squeezed onto him for dear life. The added weight and pace were becoming nearly too much. 

“Yeah, feel so fucking good, doll. Gonna ruin you for anyone else–.”

“Fuck, only you—holy shit—just you.” 

“You loved being tied up like this, mhmm….like my little needy whore?”

Oh, fuck yes. You loved it. Relished in it. How could you not? You don’t even remember how you got here, but that didn’t matter. Not with the way your boyfriend was mercilessly pounding into you, the heat building and building until you couldn’t take it anymore. You felt the coil in your stomach snap as you cried your lover’s name. Surely, the whole office, maybe even Hell, had heard you by now….just as Vox wanted. That’s what got him. The sight he chased after, again and again. You, creaming around his cock, tears running down your face from pleasure, and those whiny little breaths passing your puffy lips. Oh, he was absolutely ruined. 

Cumming nearly seconds later, spilling hot ropes of cum into you, Vox collapsed, slouched on top of you with a heavy moan. Both parties were covered in a layer of thin sweat, panting heavily, and overcome with arousal. Walking his hands forward till both of his arms caged you in on the desk, pushing his cum back into you as he drew himself on top of your panting body. And for a split moment, even in your post orgasm haze, you could’ve sworn one of his eyes glowed red and squinted like a pocket watch. 

“Round two, doll?”

The grand ballroom of the Hazbin Hotel glittered with anticipation. Black and gold streamers wove around tall marble columns, and the tables sparkled with elegant centerpieces of painted roses and flickering candles. At the podium, Charlie hummed nervously as she adjusted a ribbon on the microphone stand.  

“Vaggie, do you think it’s too much? Maybe the black tablecloths make it too...sad?” she fretted, twisting a strand of blonde hair around her finger.  

Vaggie, perched on a ladder as she pinned a gold banner reading "New Year, New Redemption" above the stage, rolled her eyes. “It looks perfect, Charlie. Relax. This is going to blow everyone away.”  

Charlie bit her lip, her gaze flicking to her phone. “I still haven’t heard from Alastor or Y/N. They’re never late, especially not Alastor. What if—”  

“They’ll be here,” Vaggie interrupted, stepping down from the ladder. She placed a reassuring hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “It’s Alastor. You know how he is. Punctuality is practically his religion.”  

Charlie nodded but couldn’t shake the unease. As Vaggie moved to adjust a crooked candle, the heavy creak of a trolley drew their attention.  

“Alright, booze delivery,” Husk grumbled, pushing a cart laden with bottles of champagne, whiskey, and other spirits. His wings twitched as he glared at the banner. “Y’know, this feels like a lotta work for demons who probably can’t even remember what year it is.”  

Charlie laughed nervously. “It’s about the gesture, Husk! A new year is a new chance at redemption!”  

Husk snorted, cracking open a bottle of gin. “Sure. Whatever you say, Princess.”  

Just as the final touches were in place, the grand double doors of the ballroom swung open. All heads turned as Alastor and Y/N entered, their silhouettes sharp against the warm glow of the room.  

“Ah, finally!” Charlie exclaimed, her face lighting up with relief. She waved them over, but her smile faltered slightly as she noticed something... off.  

Alastor, ever the picture of poise, seemed unusually stiff, his crimson eyes darting nervously around the room. His usual grin was tight, less a sign of amusement and more a strained facade.

Beside him, Y/N exuded an air of smug satisfaction, their eyes sparkling with a secret they weren’t planning to share.  

“Sorry for the delay,” Y/N said smoothly, hands stuffed in their pockets and voice carrying just the right amount of mischief to not seem odd. “We ran into a… distraction.”  

Alastor’s head snapped toward them, his grin twitching dangerously. “Quite the unexpected one,” he added, his tone clipped. His eyes flickered to Y/N, his partner of a few years, with a less-than-hidden disdain.

Charlie blinked but shrugged off the odd tension. “Well, you’re here now! That’s what matters!”  

From his perch at the bar, Husk caught Alastor’s eye. He raised his glass slightly, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. Alastor glared at him momentarily, but the faintest flush betrayed his annoyance.  

As the evening went on, the ballroom buzzed with laughter and music. Yet, Husk couldn’t help but chuckle into his drink, his sharp eyes catching every subtle glance and twitch between the two latecomers.  

It was obvious to anyone who had ever done it: the stiff posture, the jerks at the dinner table, eyes fighting not to roll back. Alastor was in something…or more accurately, something was in Alastor. Husk had overheard the debate a few days ago, nothing major, he was so pissed drunk he was shocked he had remembered. 

“For one moment, could you please not pester everything I do?”

“Why my dear, I do believe you love my company. You were certainly agreeable the other–”

“Alastor, I don’t think you could go one minute without a quippy comment. In fact, I bet you can’t.”

Alastor’s eyes had glowed in disdain at the comment, extending a green threaded hand to his lover. 

“Very well, cher. If I can’t go one minute without a comment, you may do anything you wish to me for the New Year. But only one thing.”

Oh, how pride hath gone before the fall. Now Alastor stands, rather awkwardly, facing his punishment. Y/N placed their hands on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, making a motion of adjusting the fabric in a seemingly domestic display. Leaning closer, they whispered softly

“What's the matter, Al? You seem a bit stiff this evening…why not go and greet the others? I’m not going anywhere…”

‘And neither is that remote in my pocket, nor your plug…’

“I am simply stepping back a bit, cher. Let Ms. Morningstar handle the affair.”

“You're supposed to be acting normal. That was our agreement. You wouldn’t be the one to go against a deal, would you?”

As if to single-handedly further his demise, Charlie waved Alastor over. 

“Go on, honey. It looks like Princess Morningstar needs you.” With one last pat on the jacket and a wink, Y/N left Alastor to his more than pleasurable misery. 

It was no shock to anyone that Alastor was a masochist, everyone could see how he reveled in the pain of those he deemed his subordinate. However, it might shock one to learn that the Radio Demon was also a sadomasochist. Rarely seen but stewing under the surface, the need for pain and pleasure was a dangerous cocktail that Alastor had found himself addicted to. Especially when administered by the hands of his partner. 

But this? This was torture. Here he is, talking to the princess and a group of other sinners; his mind a puddle of desire. Positively doing his utmost to keep his composure, a jolt moves through him when he feels the ever-present toy, that dastardly thing, buzzing. Emitting sweet, torturous pleasure at a time when he was supposed to be working. He was on duty. 

It had been simple enough at first. He had lost the bet, rather unfortunately, but didn’t fear too much. Y/N was always kind and gentle with him, a mean streak sure, but amicable in all their squabbles. Little would he have guessed that a silver plug with the red ruby heart would stuff him so full he was almost babbling before they even came to the party. Small vibrations from a damn remote in his lover’s pockets were not how he thought his reputation would be tarnished, nor his secret be revealed. Alastor did not pray in life, nor much in death, though he conceded to one small one now. 

Fortunately, Alastor found a natural pause in his speech and seized the opportunity to take a breath, probably for a moment longer than was needed. He cared not. What Y/N was doing to him was unnatural. Horrid. Absolutely divine.

He wanted them to do it again. And again and again…

Why did he wish for this?! Why did he wish for them? Why did he wish for the sweet destruction and ecstasy, Y/N promised? They had him begging, eating from the palm of their hand  How disgraceful. 

It continues like this the entire evening. When he is giving his speech on the Hotel’s progress, the vibrations from behind him catch the mic if only for a second. He blames it on technological malfunctions. At dinner, he jolts and almost spills his drink. He blames it on the liquor. And when Angel gave him a knowing look, Alastor could only blame his flushed cheeks on his tight clothing. Alastor would not find out till three days later that Angel had…provided the very plug that was now the source of his predicament. The spider demon never let him live it down, though did agree after much threatening to keep it between them….Angel told Husk four days later. 

Finally, the night had come to a close. All the guests had left, save for those who lived in the Hotel, and the decorations were being put up. With a pleading glance and a desperate look, Alastor found himself walking back to his partner’s room with Y/N. 

“You were so good for me tonight, baby–” Opening the door to the room, Y/N placed their hand on the small of Alastor’s back and guided them to the bed with a sultry look. “Let me reward you, mhmm?”

Slamming their lips to his, Alastor returned the kiss with just as much fervor if not more. Hours of teasing had left him hard beyond compare and in desperate need of release. He felt as if could blow any second, the vibrations building him up only to slow down as he needed them most. While the thought of having cum earlier was enticing, he was grateful his partner had not allowed him to stain his pants. More than they already were with pre-cum at least. 

“Just you wait, my deer…I will make you pay for that little stunt you pulled–”

“Oh you are welcome to try, Allie.” 

Turning up the vibrator once more, Alastor’s knees practically gave out beneath him. His lanky form crumbled backward as Y/N placed him on the bed. The black silk sheets were strangely comforting in their coolness but did little to quell the burning heat inside him. Y/N continued to kiss him furiously, lips wandering their way down occasionally to leave soft nips at Alastor’s jugular. 

“Stop…your fruitless teasing–”

“Aww, are you riled up, Alastor? Patience, honey, you will get what you want soon. I just wanna enjoy you first.”

Stepping away quickly, Y/N got up and went over to their dresser; leaving Alastor to whine in disapproval at the loss of attention. Returning, a red ribbon glinted in the pale moonlight streaming in from the window. Bringing their hands to Alastor’s wrist, Y/N softly but snuggly tied the material. 

“I will not be contained my dear, I can break out of these anytime you know.”

“Of course, you could baby. Let’s see you try–” 

Resuming their previous course of action, Y/N continued to trail kisses down Alastor’s neck. Following the path his body laid out, treasuring every inch of covered or uncovered skin. Worshiping him as if he had hung Heaven himself, set the stars in motion, and could only whine this pretty just for them. The plug still vibrated inside him, albeit a touch slower and less intense than before. A false hope for the Radio Demon, until Y/N’s kisses came to the belt on his pants, and their hands made light work of removing the fabric from his body. 

A red lacey garter belt was the first thing that caught Y/N’s eyes, the straps connecting to a beautiful thin piece of fabric, if one could call it that, that remained the only thing in their way to reach Alastor’s weeping and throbbing dick. Giving it a quick snap, only for Alastor to yelp out in a quick moan of pleasure, the lace was quickly removed. 

“You look so beautiful for me, Allie. All dolled up, was it for me? You sweet boy…”

“Yes, cher—fuck all for you.”

Bringing their lips to softly peck at the tip, Alastor’s hands gripped the sheets, squirming at the stimulation. Y/N’s lips continued to suck as their tongue swiped over the large head of his member, enjoying the taste of the salty liquid that kept weeping from the tip despite its abuse. Finally, opening their mouth, Y/N took all of him in one swallow. Hollowing their cheeks, taking him till his balls slapped their face with each wretched buck of Alastpr’s hips into the warm and inviting concave of their mouth. 

Relief washed over Alastor in that moment, a sweet and sickening relief that truly wasn’t one at all. Quickly brought to the edge of overstimulation, quiet tears pooled in the corner of his eyes. Daring to fall and admit his weakness, but in this moment, he found himself caring little. The only thing his mind focused on was the constant internal cries, desperate to cum. Allow his partner to milk him dry till he has nothing left to give and then keep going, to have his body bruised with their lips and hands only for him to see and hide in the morning. To feel the rush of adrenaline that paired with the shame of every sweet whispered praise from Y/N’s mouth and to treasure it in his black soul forever. 

Y/n could tell he was close, the way his cock twitched in their mouth or the way his moans become less breathy; more of incoherent babble was always a tale-tell sign. Raising a hand, soft fingertips coming to fondle his balls, Y/N added to the stimulation of their partner. 

He was always beautiful, but like this, he was ethereal. His hair pulled taught in a ponytail, the wisps sticking to his head from perspiration. Lips parted, just begging to be kissed, the magical vessel that produced the sinfully wonderful sounds Y/N so cherished. His hands came to rest in their hair, giving soft tugs and scrapes with every passing second of a much-needed and rising orgasm. He was perfect. 

It all was perfect, the tight band in his stomach snapping and waves of pleasure rushing down on him like a crescendo. Hot cum spurt from his abused tip into Y/N’s mouth, greedily slurping and swallowing for all he was worth. So enraptured in the after-glow, little did Alastor notice that he had cum so much, small hot trails of liquid gold spilled out of the corners of his partner’s eager lips. Burning tears flooded Alastor’s senses, small hiccups erupting from his swollen lips. 

After a moment, Y/N removed their mouth and hands, having swallowed all of their just desserts. Slowly rising, stepping forward to untie the ribbon restraints and remove the vibrator, Y/N’s hands moved with meticulous grace and ease. 

“There you go, my love. That’s it, you did so well for me.” 

Grabbing a small wet towelette from their drawer, pre-prepared, Y/N began the process of cleaning Alastor up. Humming softly and whispering sweet-nothings. How good the sounds he made were, how beautiful he was. Alastor could’ve sworn there was a different, much softer emotion that found residence in their eyes. Was it possibly love? Did they love him? 

Is that why they put him through this sweet torture? To show their affection?

Another shutter startled the poor deer demon back to reality as Y/N gently smoothed their thumb and hands over his ears and played with his hair. The towelette coming as well to dab off the remaining sweat and tears. 

“Ya know…next time I need to get you a bow to wear on your tail.

“Absolutely not…and what do you mean next time?”

“Come on, Al.. with the noises you made, you’ll be begging me to make sweet love to you again soon. It's just a fact.” A muted chuckle was stifled though joyful, Y/N’s eyes shining and peering down at Alastor’s. 

“And…how would you know this?’

“I just know you.”

Y/N paused and continued to stare down at their lover. He was so…there were no words. In all the blackness of the room, his eyes shone out the brightest. If Heaven lost all its light and wonder, only Alastor’s eyes would be able to light the world back on fire. 

“... What’s the matter, cher?”

“N-nothing…Just…you got pretty eyes. It's hard not to get lost in ‘em…”

Another pause. 

“Would you like a shower, Al?” 

Y/N didn’t receive a reply as Alastor fell asleep in their arms. In their bed, instead. Only notified by his current state due to the soft bleating snore-like noises softly coming from him. 

Y/N swept a few stray hairs from his face, placing a kiss on his forehead and snuggling closer to him. Closing their eyes and allowing the temptation of sleep to embrace their mind. They smiled, a small but pleasant grin appearing on their face as they felt his warm breath hit their face; slight static in his sweet snores turning the sound into a faint, fatigued melody…

You had gotten into this predicament, not entirely on purpose. Not that you didn’t want this, oh no, quite the opposite. What am I referring to, you may ask? Oh, your sugar daddy turned loving relationship with Lucifer Morningstar himself. After months of dates, lavish gifts, and ravishing sex, the King of Hell had confessed his feelings for you. And you had reciprocated with equal passion. But even a relationship such as this was not without its…interesting parts. 

When you had signed the contract with Lucifer originally to be his sugar baby, you signed on to obey a set of rules. His sugar baby had to act all proper after all, she was with royalty. Every dinner, gala, and stroll through the gilded halls of the Palace was coordinated. You must perfect the art of composure: back straight, chin high, hands folded just so. Love, in his world, has posture.

Oh, but how well you were rewarded when you obeyed. The gifts, the praise. How he would lie you down and practically make love to your heavenly cunt as magical. And when you started officially dating, this little high protocol romance didn’t end. Not that you minded. So, here are some of the rules you signed onto: 

Eye contact is a privilege, not a habit. When you speak to him in public, your gaze must be lowered. Respectful, deferential, as though you are addressing the sun itself. Only in private, when the doors are shut and the guards dismissed, does he lift your chin and command softly, “Now you may look at me, sweet thing." He will then proceed to pin you to the nearest surface, hiking up your panties to allow him access to your already weeping cunt. You were always so ready for him, so perfect. And while the King himself would sink to his knees, his devilish smile morphing into one of pure ecstasy as he laps your juices, he will keep eye contact with you the whole time. 

There’s a ritual for everything. The dining table stretches farther than a mortal eye could follow, and each setting is a lesson in hierarchy. There’s a specific fork for each course, a specific way to hold the glass, a specific rhythm to the way you pass the salt. Once, you reached for the wrong utensil,  and the entire court froze, waiting to see if he’d notice. He did. But he only smiled, a dangerous, amused little curve that meant, I’ll teach you later. Oh, and he did. Tied to his master's bed, the cool silk sheets doing little to soothe the burn of the ropes at your wrist and the heat pooling inside you. A golden vibrator pulsing inside you as Lucifer denied you orgasm after orgasm, content to watch salty little tears fall from your pretty, puffy cheeks. Your cunt fluttering around the toy, begging for release, only for it to never arrive. “Please—Luci—ah, fuck…” “Tch, but you’re doing so well for me, ducky. You are learning your lesson so well. Don’t you wanna keep being good?”

Dress to impress him, no one else. Each outfit is chosen for the message it sends — the colors of his court, the silks that shimmer like molten gold and lava. You are told when to wear jewels and when to appear “modest” and when…not to. When you complained once that you no longer recognized yourself in the mirror, he only chuckled and said: “That’s the point, my dear. You are mine now… and mine must be magnificent.” But if you do complain too much? He will happily rip all that decorum off you and mount you right there. Gods, you were always so pretty when you were fucked out. So whiny, so small. Big beautiful eyes with tears pricking in the corners and that adorable pout on your lips as moans sneaked past. He could just make you feel good for hours on his cock.