#dino's smutmas

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 9 - Egg-Snog

Alastor x Deer Demon! Reader Summary: You are a deer demon, and so is he. But what happens when your deerest puns get a little too much fawning over? Warnings: Fingering, cum, use of pet names(cher, my dear), slight sub/dom dynamics if you squint, very obnoxious puns, etc. MDNI, 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by @dragbunstudios Hope you enjoy!

The Hazbin Hotel was anything but calm normally, but tonight, the noise level had reached new heights—or perhaps, new lows. It started innocently enough: Alastor had pranced into the lobby with his usual swagger, his grin sharp enough to cut glass. Y/N, lounging in one of the chairs, twitched their velvety deer ears at the sound of his vintage voice. Alastor had been in a particular mood as for late, much to the annoyance of several other hotel residents, though that never detered him. 

“Ah, Y/N!” Alastor greeted, his red eyes glinting with mischief. “What a deer-lightful surprise to find you here tonight!”

Y/N’s nose twitched, matching his energy effortlessly. “Oh, I’m just trying to stay out of tr-hoof-le. You know how it is.” They flicked their fluffy tail for emphasis.

Angel Dust, perched on the sofa with his legs sprawled dramatically, groaned. “Oh, for Lucifer’s sake, not this again.”

But Alastor was already cackling. “You, stay out of trouble? Fawn-tastic joke, my friend!”

“Oh, it’s no bull,” Y/N countered, leaning forward with a playful smirk. “Unlike you, who’s clearly just stag-ing for attention.”

“HA!” Alastor clapped his hands together. “Touché, my dear! Touché!”

Across the room, Husk muttered into his half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Why don’t you two just get a room already?”

Vaggie slammed her hands on the bar. “Seriously, do we have to listen to this? It’s like watching two sitcom dads try to flirt!”

Charlie, the ever-optimistic hotel owner, giggled behind her hand. “I think it’s adorable!”

Angel Dust rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t pop out of his head. “Adorable, schmadorable. They’ve been dancing around each other like this for weeks. Either they start locking lips, or I’m locking them in a room together until they do!”

“Angel!” Charlie scolded, though her blush betrayed her amusement.

Meanwhile, Y/N and Alastor were still locked in their pun-filled duel. 

“Tell me, Y/N,” Alastor said, leaning casually against his cane. “Are you fawn-d of me, or is this all just a game?”

“Oh, I herd you the first time,” Y/N teased, their nose twitching again. “But maybe you should stop deer-tering me to respond and make a move yourself.”

For a moment, Alastor faltered—not that anyone else would notice. His smile remained intact, but the tiniest twitch of his ear betrayed his surprise. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “A bold challenge! I always love those, cher~”

Husk’s ears flattened against his head, letting out a low whisper from behind his beer bottle. “Kill me now.”

Angel Dust slapped the table with his hand. “Okay, okay, that’s it. If you two don’t kiss by the end of the night, I’m stepping in to make it happen.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, their lips quirking into a sly grin. “Oh? And how do you plan to do that, Angel?”

“Easy!” Angel Dust leaned forward with a wicked grin. “I’ll make you two the starring act in my next performance—‘The Lusty Antlers of Passion.’ You won’t be able to resist!”

“Angel!” Charlie squeaked, her face as red as a cherry.

Alastor merely chuckled, tapping his cane against the floor. “While I appreciate the offer, Angel, I think Y/N and I can handle things on our own. After all—” He glanced at Y/N with a sly wink. “Good things come to those who wait.”

Y/N tilted their head, their tail swishing. “Well, I’m not one to rush, but I’d hate to keep you pining for too long.”

Alastor’s grin widened, and for once, there was a flicker of genuine warmth behind his crimson eyes. “Then perhaps we should continue this conversation... elsewhere?”

As the two of them strolled out of the lobby, their laughter echoing behind them, Angel Dust threw his arms up in victory. “FINALLY! Took them long enough.”

Husk groaned, pouring himself another drink. “I need a vacation.”

Charlie sighed happily, her hands clasped in front of her chest. “Love really does bloom in the strangest places.”

Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not love. It’s deer puns. Endless, insufferable deer puns.”

But as Alastor and Y/N disappeared around the corner, their tails swishing in perfect harmony, it was clear to everyone else in the hotel: this was more than just a passing fancy. 

Deep in the hallway, as the two demon walks quietly, the jokes seemed to vanish. An awkward silence filling the space as each had a small tint on their cheeks, hearts pounding. However, in a moment born of incessant desperation to end such a silence, Alastor stopped and faced Y/N. 

“Cher, would it…be too much to ask you if you mean your words earlier?”

Facing him with a small smile, Y/N’s hand came to rest comfortingly on the lapel of Alastor’s suit. “I meant every word, Al.” 

“Then I hope you won’t mind—“

Before Y/N could even respond, Alastor pinned Y/N against wall, trapping them between his arms before locking their lips in a soft but passionate kiss. Pulling his mouth away to trail wet kises down the valley of their neck, Y/N’s hands came up to tug in his hair as a breathy sigh spilled past his lips. Alastor’s hands slowly dipped low, deft fingers trailing down the the waistband of their pants, pulling them softly in a request. Y/N nodded quickly, eyes rolling into the back of their head as his lips still continued worshiping their neck. 

Pulling down the offending garment, panties and all, Y/N was left half bare before the heated and intense gaze of the Radio Demon. Licking his lips hungrily, Alastor drug a finger along the slit, pleasently surpised to find it already so wet and inviting. Bringing his hand back up, he sucked the juices from his finger with a low grumble of appreciation. 

“Absolutely deer-vine, cher.”

Allowing his hand to flow back down, he plunged two fingers into their warm cunt, marveling at the way its walls constricted around him in desire. Y/N bit their lip, a desperate whine eeking past, body overflowing with arousal. Alastor’s face now was painted with a devilish smirk, speeding up only to hear those exact whimpers escape and reign freely for him to here. Relishing in all the delicious noises that came to pass through his partner’s puffy lips. His fingers curled up, hitting that delicious spot inside Y/N that nearly had her screaming, hands coming to grip his shoulders tightly. 

Pannting as they squirmed ontop of him; the coil in theur stomach became too tight to ignore as his fingers continued their onslaught. 

“Al—“

A blinding hot flash of liquid pours out of their overstimulated pussy without warning,, soaking the Radio Demon’s hand in release as he continues to pump into them; working Y/N through their high. 

“That’s it, cher. Looking so pretty for me.”

After a moment, letting them catch their breath, Alastor removed his fingers and wipes them unceremoinsuly on his trousers. Looking back up at them with half-lidded but lust blown eyes, he spoke once more. 

“Fawned of another round, my dear?”

[dewdropdinosaur]

“My sweet angel,” he murmured, his voice trembling as though the words pained him. The nickname, long forgotten in the years since his fall, struck something deep within you, a chord of bittersweet memory. “Tell me to stop,” he pleaded, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm and unsteady against your skin. “We should… stop.” 

The word echoed in your mind—stop. But it felt so foreign, so wrong. You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to push him away, not now, not ever. His touch, his presence, the way he made you feel—it was all-consuming. You craved more. 

AHHHHH VEXI!!! I feel it in my soul. Gosh, now I am all hot and bothered. You write so well, waxing poetic even. Each line is just perfect and reads so well. And Luci, ughhh the things I would do for that man.

A/N: Kit, how dare you issue a challenge? I'mma come over and cough all over.... your keyboard! That's right! Biological warfare baby! Jks. I can't get out of my bed, lol.

SUMMARY: Every year on Christmas Eve, you meet Lucifer, your mentor. He regales you with tales from down below, and despite the passing years, you realize that your love for him has never faded.

TAGS/WARNINGS:  f!reader, soft sex, p in v, angel!reader, naive!reader, virgin!reader, first time reader, touchstarved!lucifer, cunnilingus, fingering

Laughter drifted like silken ribbons through the crisp evening air, weaving its way seamlessly into the chorus of crackling firewood and the quiet hum of the night. Above, the stars gleamed with a fractured beauty, like shattered jewels scattered across the inky sky. Each flicker was a ghost of light from stars long gone, their brilliance enduring even after their death—a poignant reminder of their fragility and their fleeting splendour of existence. 

The fire before you burned steady, casting warm golden halos against the encroaching chill. The scent of smoke mingled with the earthy aroma of wood, laced faintly with a sweetness that teased the edges of memory. Enveloped in the soft cocoon of your snowy white wings, you dared a glance at the figure across from you. 

Lucifer. 

He was once your mentor, your guide into the delicate art of creation—the delicate skill of weaving light, life, and beauty into existence. Even now, after his fall, he sat there with the same ethereal glow, though tarnished in the eyes of Heaven. His rosy cheeks, flushed as though kissed by frost, and his gentle smile felt like the warmth of a distant sun. 

Yet, the whispers of his past lingered like shadows. The Seraphs spoke in riddles, never fully divulging the sin that led to his fall. He had become the emblem of rebellion, the cautionary tale told to every fledgling angel. To humanity and the choir of angels, he was the harbinger of evil and sin. 

But to you? 

He was still him. 

“Want a s’more?” His voice broke the spell of your thoughts, warm and smooth, carrying a hint of playful curiosity. He held out the human treat, the graham crackers precariously balanced between fingers that had once wielded the glory of celestial creation. 

You nodded, reaching eagerly for the offering. At the first bite, a delightful medley of flavours melted onto your tongue—the silk of chocolate, the airy sweetness of marshmallow, and the crisp crunch of graham crackers. Your eyes lit up with unabashed delight. 

“Mmm!” you hummed, your grin radiant as you turned to him. 

Lucifer chuckled, his laughter low and rich, like a song from a time you thought you’d forgotten. He leaned back, busying himself with crafting another treat, his motions unhurried and precise. Around you, colourful lights danced on strings, their cheerful glow a stark contrast to the quiet of the winter night. 

You hadn’t planned to see him again after that fateful chance encounter in the human realm. Yet here you were, meeting him each year on Christmas Eve, reliving fragments of a bond that time had refused to sever. 

Your gaze drifted to his profile, illuminated by the soft amber light. There was something mesmerizing about the way his hair caught the glow, the way his sharp features softened in the firelight. 

The chill of the night was no match for the flush warming your cheeks. You didn’t mean to feel this way, to let your thoughts spiral into forbidden territory. 

He was your mentor. 

Your guide.

Your… 

But the space between respect and yearning had blurred, year after year, as comfort gave way to an ache you couldn’t ignore. You told yourself it was admiration. 

That it had to be. 

“So,” Lucifer’s voice stirred you from your reverie, casual yet tinged with something unreadable. “How are things up there?” His words held an edge of hesitance, his unnatural crimson eyes flitting to meet yours briefly before darting away. 

Your breath caught as your gaze fell to the faint glint of a golden band on his fourth finger. A thousand questions stirred in your chest, each one more painful than the last. 

And yet, you smiled. 

You always smiled for him. 

Blinking back the twisting discomfort in your stomach, you forced a bright smile to your lips, wide enough to mask the unease threatening to spill over. “Oh, you know, same old, same old,” you sighed theatrically, shrugging your shoulders in an exaggerated gesture. “It’s been ages since anyone’s come up with anything truly inspired. No creativity, no innovation… just endless routine.” 

Your gaze flickered nervously to Lucifer, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw his face light up—golden hues flushing his cheeks, a grin spreading wide and utterly unguarded across his face. 

“Well, isn’t that just typical!” he exclaimed, effortlessly crossing his legs and setting the fourth s’more neatly on the plate beside him. His movements were so quick and precise you barely caught them. “Those old coots upstairs wouldn’t recognize genius if it smacked them right in their self-righteous halos!” 

A giggle slipped from you, muffled only slightly by the hand you pressed to your mouth. It was still enough to escape, carrying the sound of bubbling joy across the air. His audacity—speaking so brazenly about the elders of Heaven—never failed to amuse you. But wasn’t that just one of the reasons why you… why you… 

Your chest tightened, a bittersweet ache swelling inside you. You didn’t want this moment to end. You longed for the days when you could see him whenever you pleased, like you had in those ancient, untarnished eons. 

Your wings puffed up instinctively, a reflexive motion that startled Lucifer enough to make him flinch. “Oh! S-sorry!” you stammered, cringing at the sudden disruption. “I just… remembered something!” 

With a renewed determination, you reached into your pocket, your fingers brushing against smooth rubber. When you pulled it free, your smile grew brighter, almost trembling with anticipation. You held it out to him with both hands. 

Lucifer’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. He blinked once, then again, his gaze drifting from the object in your hands to your face. His lips, usually quick to curve into a grin, remained frozen in place. 

A flicker of nervousness gnawed at your resolve, but you clung to your bright expression, even as it faltered just slightly. “I-I heard that tomorrow is a day when people exchange gifts and spend time together,” you began hesitantly, heat crawling up your neck to bloom across your cheeks. “And, well… you once mentioned you liked ducks, so… I made this for you.” 

The small object in your hands was a pink rubber duck, its shimmering ruby eyes catching the firelight. Tiny white wings adorned its back, delicately crafted and fluffy to the touch. It wasn’t much, but it was something you’d poured your heart into—something that reminded you of the first time Lucifer had taught you the joy of creating. You still remembered the wooden duck he had given you all those years ago, a keepsake of simpler times. 

“If you squeeze it here,” you demonstrated, giving the duck a gentle press. The tiny beak opened, letting out a soft, endearing quack, and the little wings began to flap, the duck hovering just slightly above your palm. 

Your heart pounded as you looked up at him, hope filling your eyes. Surely, he’d see how much this meant. 

For a moment, Lucifer’s expression was unreadable, his blank stare heavy and unnerving. But then, his lips curved into a wide, mischievous grin. “Oh, wow!” he drawled, plucking the duck from your hands and turning it over to examine it closely. “You’ve really improved! Your craftsmanship is getting impressive.” 

His words washed over you, sending a pleasant warmth trickling down your spine. “Y-you think so?” you asked, your voice tinged with shy pride as you leaned in slightly, desperate to bask in the glow of his approval. 

He glanced at you then, and for a moment, his eyes softened, their sharp edges melting into something infinitely more tender. His vibrant red eyes felt foreign, a reminder of all he had become, yet there was a piece of the mentor you once knew. No matter how he had changed, Lucifer still held an unshakable place in your heart. 

And in this quiet moment, you realized… perhaps he always would. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low, threaded with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. His eyes softened, a flicker of vulnerability shimmering within their depths like the faintest ember of a long-forgotten fire. His hand hovered, trembling slightly, mere inches from your cheek, as if he yearned to touch you but couldn’t bring himself to close the distance. “You don’t have to indulge this old fool every year, you know.” 

Your head tilted slightly, confusion knitting your brows. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lucifer sighed deeply, the sound heavy with unspoken words. His hand dropped back into his lap, his fingers curling protectively around the small gift you had made for him. His gaze followed, falling to the duck in his hand as if it held all the answers he couldn’t find. 

“I…” He hesitated, his lips pressing together before he let out a quiet, frustrated breath. His eyes darted to the side, then back to the fire, searching for the courage to continue. “I’ve been reminiscing. About my past—about our past. And it’s been wonderful to share it with you again, but—” 

Your chest tightened painfully, the weight of his unfinished words squeezing the air from your lungs. You didn’t want to hear it. Whatever he was about to say, it would break something inside you, something you weren’t ready to lose. 

Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

His shoulders jerked, startled, and his head whipped toward you, wide-eyed and unguarded. Your lips quirked into a nervous smile, and with a forced, breathless giggle, you tried to brush it off. “I took my gift from you, Lucifer!” you declared, your tone falsely cheerful. Your hands wrung together in your lap, betraying the storm of nerves churning inside you, and your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the crackle of the fire. 

“A k-kiss,” you stammered, heat flooding your cheeks. “That’s… what I wanted.” 

It was innocent enough, wasn’t it? You had seen Seraphim offer kisses to their students in gestures of affection and encouragement. Surely, this wasn’t so different. 

Right? 

Lucifer blinked, slowly, as if processing your words. Then, a quiet “oh” escaped his lips, soft and unsure. He glanced at your face, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat that stretched into eternity. 

“I can do that,” he said at last, his voice a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. 

He carefully placed the duck aside, tucking it safely into his pocket before leaning closer. When his lips met yours, it was gentle at first, barely a touch, but the softness of his mouth stole the air from your lungs. Your skin tingled where he brushed against you, sparking sensations that raced through your body like wildfire. 

The kiss deepened, and your hands instinctively rose, pressing against the lapels of his coat as you leaned into him. Your eyes fluttered shut, the world around you dissolving into the warmth of him, the faint scent of smoke and something earthy mingling with his own intoxicating presence. 

The quiet crackle of the fire mingled with the faint sounds of your lips meeting his. He pulled back slightly, just enough for your breaths to mingle, and his eyes caught yours. The red of his irises glowed softly, the colour unfamiliar yet achingly fitting for him. It was a shade you had never seen in Heaven, and yet it felt as though it had always belonged to him. 

“I miss these wings,” Lucifer murmured, his lips brushing against yours with every word. 

Before you could respond, his hand moved behind you, fingers grazing the base of your wings where they met your back. His touch was light, reverent, but the sensation that followed was anything but gentle. 

“Ah!” you gasped, a sharp cry escaping your lips as a surge of pleasure coursed through you, so intense it left you trembling. Your body gave out, collapsing against his chest as heat flooded your veins, setting every nerve alight. 

The sensations rippled through you in waves, overwhelming and indescribable. You buried your face against him, your breath ragged as you tried to steady yourself. It felt so good—too good, almost, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. 

“Lucifer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but his name on your lips felt like a sinful plea.

The moment your gaze met his, Lucifer claimed your lips again, his kiss deeper, more fervent than before. His tongue brushed against your lips, coaxing them apart with a temptation as sweet as it was forbidden. Each movement of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, and the heat pooling low in your belly intensified, an ache that demanded more. His hands roamed over you, skilled and deliberate, igniting sparks that left you breathless. Shame prickled at the edge of your thoughts, but it was drowned out by the wet, warm sensation pooling between your thighs. 

Your breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with the rustle of fabric and the faint crackle of the fire. His movements were fluid yet insistent as he guided you down onto the soft blanket beneath you. Lucifer hovered above, his arms caging you in, as if shielding you from the judgmental eyes of the Heavens above. 

In the firelight, his golden hair glowed, its brilliance rivalling the stars you had spent so many nights admiring. It was brighter than the sun, and yet infinitely more inviting. 

“My sweet angel,” he murmured, his voice trembling as though the words pained him. The nickname, long forgotten in the years since his fall, struck something deep within you, a chord of bittersweet memory. “Tell me to stop,” he pleaded, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm and unsteady against your skin. “We should… stop.” 

The word echoed in your mind—stop. But it felt so foreign, so wrong. You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to push him away, not now, not ever. His touch, his presence, the way he made you feel—it was all-consuming. You craved more. 

Your lips parted, and instead of telling him to stop, a soft plea escaped, barely audible yet filled with undeniable longing. A bashful smile curled at the corners of your lips, a silent answer to his hesitation. 

Lucifer shivered, his resolve faltering as his gaze searched yours. Then, he surrendered, dipping low to capture your lips once more. His hands moved over you, exploring with a reverence that made your heart ache. His touch ventured to places no one else had ever dared, yet there was no fear, no hesitation. With him, it felt right. 

Piece by piece, your clothes fell away, and his followed suit, each article shed like a layer of pretense until nothing remained but bare skin and shared warmth. The movements were slow, deliberate, almost ritualistic—a dance of devotion. The firelight caressed his form, and you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of him, by the way he looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered in the universe. 

His lips trailed along your cheekbone, leaving a path of warmth in their wake, before finding the delicate curve of your neck. He pressed a kiss there, soft and lingering, and you felt him shudder, his breath trembling against your skin. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hold on you tightening, as though he feared you might vanish. 

Your chest pressed against his, your bodies aligned, and a new sensation bloomed within you—a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement. The hard length of him throbbed against your core, every twitch synchronized with the rapid beat of his heart. The tip was warm, slick with your shared desire, a physical manifestation of the connection drawing you both closer. 

Your heart raced, not with fear, but with happiness—a profound joy that your first time sharing this sacred act would be with him. This was no mere moment of passion; it was something deeper, something eternal. An act of unity, of bonding, of love. Wasn’t it? You wondered, heart fluttering, if this meant he saw you as his equal, his soulmate. 

Did he love you? 

Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, hoarse and laden with conflict. “We should stop,” he murmured, his words catching as though they pained him to say. “I’m tainted… and you’re not. We should stop.” 

Yet even as he spoke, his arms clung to you with a desperation that belied his words. He held you as though you were his salvation, the one thing anchoring him in a world of chaos. His resolve was crumbling, his need laid bare before you. 

And you… you could not let him go. 

Not now.

Not ever.

Lucifer's voice was raw, tinged with a pain that gripped your heart. Though you couldn’t fully understand the depths of his torment, the need to soothe him overwhelmed you. Your fingers trailed tenderly through his golden hair, soft and warm under your touch. His muscles, taut with tension, gradually loosened, melting as he surrendered to your embrace. A sigh escaped his lips, quiet and vulnerable, followed by a low moan as his mouth pressed delicate, lingering kisses to your neck. Each touch sent shivers coursing through your body, his lips igniting sparks wherever they met your skin. 

It hit you then—why you returned to him, year after year, unable to stay away. This feeling, which had begun as a fragile seed, had blossomed into something wild and untamable. It was no longer just admiration or fondness—it was something much deeper. 

You loved him. 

The realization unfurled within you like a sunrise, pure and all-encompassing. Love, the most beautiful and sacred of emotions, a gift from the heavens themselves. It was love that had drawn you to Lucifer, time and again. Love that refused to let you abandon him, even in his fall. He had taught you about creation, about beauty, and now, he had taught you the most profound truth of all—the overwhelming power of love. 

Emboldened by the thought, you cupped his face, tilting his head upward. Your lips found his in small, feather-light kisses, each accompanied by a soft giggle of uncontainable joy. His torment, etched so deeply into his features, began to fade, replaced by a quiet resignation. His lips curled into a gentle smile, one that reached his eyes for the first time in eons. 

Then he kissed you again, deeply, a kiss that stole the air from your lungs and set your body alight. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them apart, and you let him in, surrendering to the heat of his passion. His moan vibrated through you, a sound so primal and raw it sent a shiver down your spine. 

His body pressed against yours, his arousal hot and throbbing against your core. The tip of him pressed gently, insistently, against your entrance, the weight of his desire palpable. You widened your thighs instinctively, your breath hitching as anticipation gripped you. 

"I'll be gentle," he whispered, his voice a low promise that resonated through every fibre of your being. 

You nodded, your trust in him absolute, your heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Slowly, he began to press into you, the sensation foreign yet electrifying. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he stretched you, your body adjusting to the slow, deliberate intrusion. 

“Ah,” you moaned, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as he rolled his hips, pulling back before pressing forward again. Each thrust brought him deeper, filling you inch by inch. The rhythm was deliberate, reverent, as though he sought to worship every part of you. The sounds of your bodies meeting—the wet, slick noise of his movements, the ragged breaths, the whispered gasps—filled the air, a melody of intimacy. 

"That's right," he murmured, his voice thick with praise and desire. "You're doing so well, my sweet angel." 

Lucifer groaned as he buried himself deeper, his brows knitting together in concentration. You felt the burn of his entry give way to a blossoming pleasure, waves of heat radiating from where your bodies were joined. 

“Ah, my angel,” he groaned, his voice trembling. “So tight... so perfect.” 

He thrust deeper still, his pace steady and unrelenting. The fullness was overwhelming, every nerve alight with sensation. His hand slid around your back, fingers finding the base of your wings. When he touched you there, a jolt of pleasure shot through you, your walls tightening around him involuntarily. 

The sensation built and built, pain dissolving into pure, unadulterated bliss as he moved within you. Each roll of his hips brought you closer to something transcendent, a feeling so overwhelming it consumed you completely. And at that moment, with Lucifer holding you, filling you, there was no fall, no sin—only love.

Lucifer’s moan was low and guttural as he sank fully into you, his hips pressing flush against yours. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of heat and fullness that left your body trembling as it tried to accommodate him. 

“Ah… ah… L-Luci,” you whimpered, your voice catching on every gasp as you clenched tightly around him. Your walls fluttered, struggling to adjust to his size, the stretch both foreign and intoxicating. Above you, Lucifer’s torso rose, his head tilted back as he groaned, savouring the tightness of your untouched core. 

“I’m going to move,” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling, laced with restraint. His hand cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had slipped free. The tenderness in his gaze made your chest ache, grounding you amidst the swirling chaos of sensation. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?” 

You nodded, your smile wobbly but trusting. 

Slowly, he began to withdraw, and a sharp whimper escaped your lips as the loss of him left you achingly empty. But then, he pressed forward again, filling you completely, his heat and presence igniting something raw within you. His movements were careful, deliberate, as he set a rhythm, his cock throbbing against your walls as if revelling in your embrace. 

Each glide of him inside you was smoother, more certain, and his pace gradually quickened. Your breaths intertwined, the quiet space filled with the sounds of your union—ragged gasps, soft moans, and the rhythmic sound of your bodies meeting. 

“You’re so beautiful, my sweet angel,” he whispered, his voice a reverent murmur that made your heart flutter. His hips rolled in slow, indulgent circles, eliciting a cry of pleasure as he drove deeper into you. “You feel incredible,” he sighed, his words like a balm to your overwhelmed senses. 

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss. His tongue explored you with unrestrained hunger, mapping every corner of your mouth and drawing out muffled moans with every stroke. His lips left trails of fire on your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. 

“I’m close,” he rasped against your lips, his thrusts becoming erratic, his control fraying as he chased his release. 

You could barely form words, your body spiralling higher with every movement. “I want you to… feel good… Luci,” you managed, your voice breaking on a high-pitched keen as the coil in your core wound tighter and tighter, ready to snap. 

Your whispered plea undid him. With a final thrust, his body tensed, and a deep groan escaped him as he spilled into you. The warmth of his release filled you, each pulse of him deep within making you shudder. He moaned softly, his hips rocking gently as he pressed as far as he could, emptying every drop into you. 

As he stilled, his breaths uneven, he opened his eyes to meet yours. Slowly, carefully, he withdrew, and a shiver ran through you as his warmth began to escape. But before you could mourn the loss, his fingers slid inside, filling you once more. 

“Ah!” you cried out, your back arching as the sudden intrusion sent a jolt of pleasure through you. His fingers curled, seeking and finding a spot deep within that made your vision blur. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your body surrendering completely to the unexpected waves of ecstasy crashing over you. 

“Good,” Lucifer murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched you unravel beneath him, your pleasure becoming his own reward. 

"That's right, let go, my dear," Lucifer murmured, his voice a velvet caress against your senses. The wet, lewd sounds of his fingers delving into your heat filled the space between you, the mixture of his release and your arousal slicking every motion. His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars, and your body clenched around him, desperate for more. 

“Ah… ah, Luci!” you cried, your voice trembling with raw need as the coil in your core wound tighter, ready to snap. The tension in your body built with every stroke of his fingers, every graze of his touch, until a sudden, warm pressure pressed against your sensitive nub. The contact sent a jolt of pure, searing pleasure through you, pulling a broken cry from your lips. 

Lucifer’s lips found your clit, his tongue flicking against the swollen bundle of nerves before he drew it into his mouth, suckling gently. The sensation was electric, each stroke of his fingers inside you timed perfectly with the pull of his lips. The sound of him—wet, desperate, and unrelenting—filled your ears, and the world around you blurred into nothing but him. 

Your body arched off the blanket, a keening moan escaping you as your hips pushed forward, seeking more. You were helpless against the onslaught of sensations, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you higher and higher until you shattered completely. 

White-hot pleasure surged through you, a blinding wave of ecstasy that left you breathless. Your walls clamped around his fingers, spasming with the force of your orgasm as your cries filled the air. Lucifer didn’t stop—his fingers moved slowly, deliberately, while his tongue lavished your oversensitive clit with gentle, teasing licks, drawing out every last tremor of bliss. 

When the pleasure finally ebbed, leaving you trembling and spent, you collapsed back onto the blanket, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your cheeks flushed, your lips parted in a dazed smile as you looked down at him. 

Lucifer raised his head, his lips glistening, and a small smile graced his face. But something in his eyes gave you pause—a shadow of sadness that dulled the light you adored. His gaze lingered on you, tender yet heavy, as though he was holding back something you couldn’t see. 

You reached for him, brushing your fingers along his cheek, your smile faltering as you whispered, “Luci… what’s wrong?” 

Lucifer gathered you close, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that belied his strength. His fingers threaded through your hair, stroking it gently, while his lips pressed soft, reverent kisses to your temple, your forehead, the crown of your head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, the weight of those words sinking deep into your chest. 

Your eyelids fluttered, the haze of exhaustion clouding your mind. “What for?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You nestled against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, relishing in the warmth that seeped into your skin. 

“For not being enough,” he began, his lips brushing against your hair. “For falling,” another kiss, this time on your temple. “For leaving you,” his voice cracked, and he kissed you again, a lingering touch on your cheek. “For disappointing everyone.” His lips trembled as they grazed your forehead once more. “For…” 

The words faltered, and you tilted your head, looking up at him. The pain etched into his features pierced your heart, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Did you know?” you began softly, the words coming from a place of vulnerability. “I look forward to seeing you every year. I look forward to hearing the stories about your daughter, to just… being with you.” 

To you. 

He was enough. 

Always. 

His arms tightened around you, his body trembling slightly as though your words unravelled something deep within him. You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of what you wanted to say, the unspoken truth that had been blooming in your heart. “I… I—” 

But the words caught in your throat, your courage faltering. Did he feel the same? Angels didn’t share this kind of intimacy lightly; it was an act of deep love, wasn’t it? Surely, Lucifer felt it too. 

He leaned back slightly, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “We should rest tonight, my sweet angel,” he said gently, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

You hesitated but nodded, allowing him to conjure a tent with a wave of his hand. The interior was illuminated by strings of delicate fairy lights, their warm glow casting a soft, ethereal ambience. 

“It’s like our own personal stars!” you exclaimed, the childlike wonder in your voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere. 

But Lucifer said nothing, his silence wrapping around the space between you like a fragile thread. You told yourself he was tired, that the weight of the day had worn him down. Still, a small, nagging fear nestled in your chest. 

However, later in the dead of night, you stirred faintly when you felt a hand resting lightly on your head. You kept your eyes shut, your breathing steady as you waited, your heart pounding. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice cracking as though the words themselves were too heavy to bear. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, like a prayer seeking forgiveness. “You belong in Heaven, with the stars, not entangled with a devil like me.” 

Your breath hitched, but you remained still, every fibre of your being straining to hear more. You wanted to open your eyes, to reach out and tell him he was wrong, that you didn’t care, but something held you back. Deep down, you already knew, didn’t you? 

You were the one who clung to hope, who had dared to declare love where it was forbidden. You were the one who dreamed of a union that defied the heavens and the depths. And yet, now, all you could do was lie there, caught between the truth you feared and the love you couldn’t bear to lose. 

You closed your eyes, sealing them shut like you had sealed away every truth you didn’t want to face. The truth that Lucifer had fallen, that his place was no longer beside you, and that a future together was a dream as fleeting as stardust. You closed your eyes against the inevitable, against the knowledge that this fragile connection had always been temporary. 

You closed your eyes because as an angel, hope was all you had—and even that, you realized now, had been a fool's solace. 

Tears threatened but did not fall, held at bay by sheer will as you lay there, motionless. You heard the soft rustle of the tent flaps, the faint sound of him leaving, and then the crushing silence as his presence disappeared. The space he left behind felt cavernous, the absence of his warmth like an icy void. 

You didn’t know how long you remained there, curled beneath the blanket that still faintly carried his scent. The false stars above twinkled on, uncaring, mocking. Slowly, you sat up, the first tear slipping down your cheek like a crack in the dam. Then another, and another, until the flood of grief began to escape in earnest. 

You crawled out of the tent, the night’s chill biting at your skin as you wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself. The fire outside had dimmed to embers, its light no longer warm, its joy snuffed out. On the plate lay the discarded remains of s’mores, cold and abandoned, their sweetness wasted. 

You turned your gaze to the sky, to the real stars. Another tear slipped down as you stared at their brilliance. 

You weren’t going to see Lucifer next year. 

Or the year after. 

You weren’t going to see him ever again. He wouldn’t meet you, wouldn’t look at you with that half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. The realization cuts you deep like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. 

More tears welled, spilling freely now as your throat tightened and your chest heaved. The stars blurred in your vision, but you kept looking, unable to tear your gaze away. They shone so brightly, their light a lingering echo of something long gone. A memory of existence clinging to the present, deceiving the dreamers and the hopeful into believing they were still there. 

A breath escaped you, shaky and shallow, followed by a sob that tore free like a scream trapped too long. 

Lucifer had been your mentor. He had shown you the wonder of creation, the beauty of ingenuity, the power of unrestrained possibility. 

But love? 

Perhaps he hadn’t taught you that after all. 

How could it have been love when you never truly had it to begin with? 

Your hands clutched the blanket tighter, your tears falling silently into the earth beneath you. The stars above continued their eternal dance, indifferent to your pain, as you sat there mourning the light you had lost—and the darkness it left behind. 

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[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 10 - Ghost of Christmas

Vox x Reader Summary: It's Y/N and Vox's first anniversary and Y/N decides to get him an expensive gift. Only for Vox to share it, wanting to show his appreciation. Warnings: Making-out, shot-gun kiss with whiskey. PG-15 rating. MDNI, 15+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Dedicated to @macabr3-barbi3

Y/N stepped into the dimly lit bar of Vox’s and her luxurious penthouse, heels clicking against the polished black marble floor. The setting was pure Vox: sleek, modern, and dripping with a power display. The towering demon lounged on a pristine leather couch, his sharp, angular features illuminated by the faint blue glow of the myriad screens floating in the air around him.

"You're late," Vox drawled, his glitching voice carrying that signature note of smug superiority. His glowing red eyes flickered, scanning her, as his static-like grin widened. "Not getting cold feet, are we?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, setting down a sleek black gift bag on the glass table in front of him. "Hardly. I was finalizing your surprise. Try to be patient for once."

Vox raised a brow, his static popping lightly with amusement. "Surprise, huh? You're just full of clichés, aren't you, doll?" Still, he leaned forward, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Open it," she said, crossing her arms as she stood before him. A small smile found its way on her face despite the tense moment just seconds earlier, anticipation fluttering in her chest like a room full of static. 

With a flourish, Vox reached into the bag, his elongated fingers pulling out a bottle of whiskey so rare it practically glowed. The label bore the name of a distillery even he had to admit was known for their craft—and their price tag. The glass bottle shimmered faintly under the room’s ambient light, its intricate design a testament to the exclusivity of the drink.

“Mamon’s Eternity Reserve," Vox murmured, his voice glitching slightly, but the impressed tone was clear. "This stuff’s not just expensive—it’s legendary. Even I couldn’t get my way into finding a bottle of this." He leaned back, clutching the whiskey like a prize, his grin growing impossibly smug. "My, my, Y/N. You really went all out, didn’t you? Guess I mean more to you than you let on."

Y/N scoffed, but there was a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. "It's our first anniversary. I thought you’d appreciate something that matches your... extravagant tastes."

Vox tilted his head, inspecting the bottle again before fixing his gaze on her. "Extravagant tastes, huh? Don’t sell yourself short, doll. You’re the one spoiling me here." He placed the bottle down gently, standing up and towering over her. "You know, you could’ve just written me a cheesy card or something. This…" He gestured to the whiskey. "This is overkill."

"Don’t act like you don’t love it," she teased, raising a brow.

"Oh, I do," Vox said, his grin sharp and his tone almost teasingly patronizing. "It’s adorable how much you want to impress me."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smirk betrayed her. "Don’t flatter yourself too much, glitch boy."

But as Vox chuckled, his confident demeanor flickered for just a moment—like the static he embodied. Because as much as he relished her efforts to win his favor, it wasn’t the whiskey or her extravagance that mattered most. She mattered most.

That was the part Vox would never say out loud, though. Vulnerability wasn’t his thing, not when his entire existence thrived on control, dominance, and confidence. Yet, there was something about Y/N—the way she saw through all his bravado, the way she challenged him without fear—that cracked through his carefully curated image.

“Pour us a drink, then," Vox said, his glitching voice as smooth as ever. "Let’s see if it tastes as good as it looks. Though I’m sure it’s not as intoxicating as you, doll."

"Charming," Y/N quipped, grabbing two glasses from the nearby shelf and ignoring the way her cheeks heated at his comment. She poured the golden liquid, its rich aroma filling the space between them.

They clinked glasses, his sharp claws tapping against her glass gently, the sound like a note of harmony between their contrasting worlds.

“To one year of putting up with your arrogance,” Y/N said, her voice laced with mock irritation.

“And to you,” Vox replied smoothly, his grin softer than usual, his gaze lingering on hers for a fraction longer than she expected. 

As they sipped the rare whiskey, Vox allowed himself one indulgence: a quiet, genuine moment of appreciating her. Because for all his swagger and superiority, Y/N was the one thing in his life he’d never take for granted. Especially not tonight. Looking so delictable before him, he could almost forget about the whiskey. Dark elegance coated her body in a swath of warmth and expensive fabric, though it did little to cloud the radiance she exuded. A perfection that even his ego could admit he didn’t deserve in his corner of Hell. 

“Dollface, come here a second,” Vox spoke softly, though obviously in command. Patting his leg gently in invitation.

Nodding obediently, Y/N placed down her glass and trotted over to her boyfriend, plopping down on his knee with a smile. Her hands came to rest on his chest, supporting herself but truly it was an excuse to feel his strong pecs. Taking a swig of liquid couragel Vox’s hand curled itself around the base of her neck, nimble fingers brushing her hair. Leaning in close, he pulled Y/N to meet him in the middle, locking their lips in a passionate kiss. 

Mildly surprised at the sudden action, Y/N wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and deepened the kiss. Swiping his tongue across her lips in a plea for access, it was granted, much to the surprise of Y/N who felt the familiar warmth of whiskey flooding into her mouth from his. Vox’s eyes peek open just for a moment, mesmerized as Y/N greedily drank it all; pulling away after nipping his lower lip. 

Her lips began to trail lower, grazing over his skin in trailing hot, wet kisses along the sensitive flesh. Y/N could feel his heartbeat pick up, the pulse point in his neck slightly bulging…along with something else at her continued affection. Sucking softly near the edge of his collarbone, tongue lapping over a now-forming bruise, Y/N pulled back and whispered huskily. 

“Next time you wanna share V, all you have to do is ask.” 

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 11 - Mistle-Hoe

Lucifer x Reader Summary: After a lavish night out for Christmas dinner, Lucifer has another surprise under his sleeve. Or rather, on his tail. Warnings: Oral sex, semi-public sex, cum, use of nicknames (ducky, dove, my king) in sexual context, etc. MNDI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by @morganr26

The night was a symphony of winter—soft snowflakes danced in the air, and the streets of Hell’s downtown glimmered with crimson lights strung from wrought-iron lampposts. Y/N adjusted her maroon dress as she stepped into the extravagant restaurant Lucifer had chosen. Their first Christmas together. No small feat, mind you, and it was already becoming clear that tonight would perfect.

The dress hugged her figure in all the right ways, and the sheer confidence it gave her didn’t go unnoticed. Paired with a set of simple but elegant beige hells, Lucifer’s golden eyes gleamed with mischief and appreciation; flickering over her as if committing every detail to memory.

“You look stunning, dove ” he purred, offering his arm. “Though I must say, you’re making it very hard for me to focus on anything else tonight.”

Y/N smirked. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”  

The waiter greeted Lucifer with a bow so deep it bordered on theatrical, leading them to a private balcony. Perks of dating the King one would suppose. The table was adorned with black candles and ruby-red roses, their fragrance mingling with the crisp scent of snow and spice wafting from the kitchen.  

Dinner was an indulgent affair—succulent meats, rich wines, and an array of desserts that seemed designed for seduction. But as the meal went on, it wasn’t the food that held Lucifer’s attention. His gaze lingered on Y/N, his smirk growing every time her laugh tinkled like bells in the night air. She had given him his confidence back after Lillith’s disappearance, taking years of solitude and hovel and turning it into a year full of joy and love. For that he was eternally grateful.

“You’re staring,” she teased, dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin. Eyes glinting down in a bashful display. 

“Can you blame me? You’re just so beautiful when you laugh” he quipped, leaning closer.  

As the night winded down, they stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the view. The icy air nipped at Y/N’s skin, and Lucifer, ever the gentleman, draped his jacket over her shoulders. Albiet a touch clumsily, hands ghosting over her shoulders in a way that almost made his knees buckle, but that was for him to know only. 

“You’re awfully sweet for someone who’s supposed to be the very scary King of Hell” she said, wrapping herself in his warmth.  

“Ah, but sweetness can be just as sinful when applied correctly,” he replied, his tail swishing playfully behind him.  

Then, with the devilish charm he wielded so effortlessly, Lucifer unfurled his long, pointed tail. Hanging from the tip was a sprig of mistletoe, glittering with enchanted frost. He arched it above their heads, his smile equal parts playful and seductive.  

“Would you look at that? What strange timing,” he said, feigning innocence. “It seems tradition demands a kiss.”  

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms. “You just happened to have mistletoe ready?”  

“Dove, I’m nothing if not prepared,” he said smoothly.  

She stepped closer, the warmth of his presence drawing her in despite the chill in the air. “Well then, who am I to break tradition?”  

Her lips met his in a kiss that was soft but searing, a perfect blend of tenderness and fire. Lucifer’s hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer as if staking his claim. When they finally parted, his golden eyes glowed brighter, his grin impossibly wide.  

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he murmured, his voice a velvet promise.  

Y/N chuckled, brushing a stray snowflake from his hair. “Merry Christmas, Luci.”  

Leaning back in, Y/N’s palm caressed Lucifer’s cheek with a gentle tenderness that took the King off guard though it did not deter him. His tail wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush to his chest. Her body now pressed against him in a heated entanglement of heat and passion, lips locked and hands roaming desparetly grabbing onto anything they could get. Lucifer’s tongue swiped across Y/N’s bottom lip, a plea for a needed access. Granting the request, tongues engaged in an impassioned battle for dominance. 

Pulling away, though only for a moment, Lucifer lips trailed their vigorious assualt on Y/N’s neck. Trailing hot open-mouthed kisses to the soft and supple flesh of her neck, down to her collarbone; his hands slowly peeling her dress down from her shoulders. 

“Luci—we are in public,” Her voice came out in rapid pants, hands coming to curl themselves in Lucifer’s locks. 

“Don’t worry, no one can see us up here, dove.” 

The balcony was high on the fifth floor, shrouded in darkness and low candle light. Out of sight of any prying eyes but close enough to the toe the line of danger. Continuing to pursue his goal, his fingers pulled and allowed the fabric of Y/N’s dress to pool at her feet. Pinning her against the edge of the stone wall, eyes roaming hungrily across her form. 

“No underwear, ducky? Bold move—“

“Only for you, my king.” 

Letting out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan, Lucifer dragged his knuckle over her dripping slit. Marveling at how her body reacted to him, each moan and buck of her hips into his hand, Lucifer was nothing short of mezmerized by his girlfriend’s perfect figure. Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. Diving in, his tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from her needy cunt. Sucking softly on her clit, delving as deep as his tongue would allow. Gripping the wall behind her, eyes shut in blissfull ectasy. 

Biting her lip, attempting to quiet herself, the only thing heard was the pornographic amount of slurping from the now kneeling King of Hell. Taking her lack of noise as a challenge, Lucifer would never admit to using magic to make his tongue larger to increase her pleasure. Greedily sucking at every drop that spilled from her now puffy cunt.  Not even seconds later did her release hit her like a tidal wave and ropes of cum now soaked Lucifer’s face, still lapping and working her through her high. 

Pulling away after a moment, Lucifer looked up at Y/N with dark and blown eyes. Taking in her disheveled form, the way her hair framed her face now shrouded in desire that he caused. And as the snow fell around them, the Prince of Darkness held his queen beneath a winter sky that seemed to burn just for them.  

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 5 - Stuff Your Stocking

Alastor x Reader Summary: You are in a brand new relationship with Alastor, so it concerns you when he dips out of the annual Christmas party at the Hotel. Only when you go to check on him do you find the reason for his disappearance...and his hard-on. Warnings: P in V sex, outfits(Stockings), established relationship, biting kink, cuss words, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by the beautiful and my internet wifey @kewpikayo

The holiday event at the Hazbin Hotel was nothing short of dazzling. Strings of colored lights bathed the grand ballroom in a warm glow, and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine mingled with the faint sulfur of the underworld. Guests of all shapes and sizes mingled, their laughter and chatter blending harmoniously with the jazzy holiday tunes being performed on stage.

Charlie had outdone herself organizing the event, and the staff—though reluctant at first(ahem..Husk)—had embraced the festive cheer. Y/N stood near the refreshment table, her eyes scanning the room. The outfit she'd chosen for the evening, a festive red mini skirt paired with thigh-high stockings and a cozy sweater, had drawn more attention than she'd anticipated. It’s not like she was the skimpiestly dressed in Hell but no matter. While different from her usual attire, the skirt had shrunk in the wash, the thigh-highs an attempt to cover the skin that would have been more bare. 

But she couldn't help noticing that one particular demon seemed distracted.

Alastor stood near the edge of the room, cane in hand. His typically sharp grin was absent, replaced with a contemplative expression as he watched the revelry from a distance. Y/N's heart twisted in concern. They'd only recently begun navigating the uncertain waters of their relationship, and she couldn't help but worry that something was bothering him.

Gathering her resolve, Y/N made her way toward him. Alastor turned slightly, catching her approach out of the corner of his eye, and his face did something unexpected—it softened, then quickly morphed into his more common unreadable smile. What she couldn't see was the way his fingers tightened around his cane or the way his mind raced as he caught another glimpse of her outfit.

Y/N tilted her head. "Alastor? Are you okay?" she asked softly.

He chuckled, the sound a touch higher-pitched than usual. "Oh, my dear, I'm quite fine. Just stepping away to enjoy the ambiance. These sorts of festivities can be a tad…much, don't you think?"

She frowned slightly. “Too much? I thought you loved entertaining."

His crimson gaze flicked to hers, and for a moment, he seemed to lose his usual composure. "Oh, I do, but there are... distractions tonight," he admitted vaguely, the smile never leaving his face.

Before Y/N could press him further, possibly asking whether it was the strobe lights or Angel’s very loud Italian singing, Alastor turned and began walking toward one of the quieter halls. Concerned, she decided to follow. 

"Alastor, wait!" she called, hurrying after him. Unfortunately, the polished floor was slicker than she'd anticipated, and as she tried to catch up, her footing slipped.

"Y/N, what are y—!" Alastor began to ask, but he didn't have time to finish. She collided with him in a flurry of movement, and before either of them could react, they ended up on the floor in an unexpected heap. Y/N was sprawled atop him, her hands braced against his chest, while Alastor lay beneath her, utterly speechless.

The world seemed to freeze. Y/N's face flushed a deep crimson as she realized the position they were in. "Oh my gosh, I—I’m so sorry!" she stammered, trying to push herself off him.

Alastor, for once, was at a loss for words. His usual confidence was nowhere to be found as he stared up at her, his cheeks tinted a rare shade of pink. "Y/N," he said finally, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "while I appreciate your enthusiasm, might I suggest a less... dramatic approach next time?"

Despite her embarrassment, she couldn't help but laugh, the sound breaking the tension. "I didn't mean to tackle you!" she protested, finally managing to scramble to her feet and offering him a hand.

Alastor took it, his long fingers wrapping around hers as he allowed her to help him up. His grin returned, though there was a slight nervous edge to it. "Perhaps it was fate," he teased, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "Or perhaps the hazards of such an outfit? It’s positively... eye-catching."

Y/N blinked, realization dawning as she noticed his lingering gaze. Her cheeks burned hotter than before. "Wait... was that why you walked away? My skirt?”

Alastor coughed into his hand, his usual composure faltering once more. "Well, my dear, it would be remiss of me not to notice such a... striking ensemble.”

Her laughter rang out again, this time more genuine. "Alastor—,” she said, though her voice carried an affectionate lilt.

"Ah, but you adore me for it, do you not?" he replied, his grin growing wider as he offered his arm. “Now my dear, I do believe you owe an apology for cascading on me to the floor.”

“Oh, of course. I am so sorry, Al—“

“I did not mean with your words, cher.” Leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a more sinister octave, Alastor’s words spoke with an interesting promise. “Though I would not mind your noises.”

With a quick snap and a misting of green static, the pair appeared in Alastor’s room. Y/N’s hands came to grip the lapels of her boyfriend’s suit jacket, attempting to ground themselves after the sudden transport. No matter how many times they did it, Y/N could never get used to the sensation. 

The large king-sized bed lay promisingly in the center of the room, red and black linen sheets draped softly around the surface of the mattress. Small embroidered details lay within the pillowcases and bed skirts, though barely visible. Fitting for someone with Alastor’s aesthetic. Taking the hint, Alastor walked their bodies to the king-sized bed and laid Y/N’s down on the sheets. Now with back flush against the mattress, she wasted no time in capturing her lips to his, amazed by the darkened desire that lay within his eyes. 

Clawed fingers traced down the fabric of her skirt, fiddling with the hem before sliding it off her legs along with her underwear. Raising her hips in an attempt to help him also with her stockings, Alastor pushed her back down on the mattress. Breaking from the kiss for a quick moment, voice laced with a nearly untraceable growl, he spoke.

“The stockings stay on, my dear. You look ravishing,”

Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. His eyes widened at the glittering slick that painted her hole. His hot breath on her already weeping cunt made her shiver in anticipation. Moaning at the sensation, Y/N brought her lips to kiss and nip at the corner of Alastor’s collarbone. They had never ventured this far in their relationship, and by all means, Alastor had never really brought up the idea of being intimate. But it was needless to say, the current predicament excited her to no end. 

Without warning, Alastor hoisted her legs up on his shoulders, unbuttoning his pants in a quick move. Carefully, as if it would cause him to bust just at the sensation, he massaged the tip of his cock against her hole. Squirming at the stimulation but not allowing a moment to think, Alastor sunk into her warm cunt with one stroke causing Y/N to bite Alastor’s neck accidentally at the sudden intrusion. 

“Fuck, cher—“

“Gosh, Al, you like that?” Y/N’s tone wasn’t harsh in the slightest, if anything, it was absolutely debauched at the thought her boyfriend liked to be a bit. Made sense considering his life choices but still. Her hands came to tangle themselves at the nape of his neck, tugging softly as Alastor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his thrusts became short and sloppy. 

“That’s it, darling~. Go on, you can do it—“

Her body acted on command, letting out moans of sobbing pleasure as her release hit like a freight train. Not mere seconds later did he find his own high; cumming hard into her tight cunt, enjoying the way her spasming pussy clenched around him with want. The room was silent save for the sound of soft squelching and heavy breaths, each allowing the other a moment of rest. 

Soon, Alastor slowly pulled out, already missing the warmth from the moment before. After conjuring a towel and cleaning both of them up, Alastor tucked himself back into his pants and extended a hand to his lover.

"Now, shall we rejoin the festivities? I believe I owe you a dance—one where you promise not to trip us both."

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 2 - Merry and Right

Alastor x Reader Summary: Pt 2 of Transparent Heart, Alastor's ghostly gal requires some assistance. Maybe he gets a Christmas miracle as well. Warnings: P in V sex, sex with a non-living being(ghost), pet names, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption.

Requested by the wonderful and creative @minkdelovely

The dim glow of Mimzy's bar cast long shadows across the smoky room, its usual patrons laughing and chattering, oblivious to the spectral presence that lingered in its corners. Alastor’s sharp, polished shoes clicked against the worn wooden floor as he strode purposefully toward the back of the establishment.  

He knew she was here—she always was. Y/N, the ghostly fixture of Mimzy’s domain, was a presence he had come to know all too well. She had been avoiding him for months, slipping away whenever he appeared, her shimmering form vanishing into the walls like mist. They had spent the night together. Cherished each other in the grim ways of the flesh and now she has decided to ignore his insatiable curiosity? It was infuriating. How dare she ignore him?

Tonight, he was determined.  

He paused near the old piano, where the music had faltered into silence, eyes scanning the room. He tilted his head, a predatory grin spreading across his face as he caught the faint shimmer of her translucent figure near the bar’s edge. She was watching the patrons, her expression wistful. He noticed this odd habit of hers, watching the living while dead. Musing over how certain habits have changed or wanting to see if a glass of champagne would still feel cool in her hand; or would she still feel nothing at all?

“Y/N, my dear!” he called, his voice cutting through the lively hum of conversation.  

She stiffened, her ghostly form flickering faintly, but she didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she drifted further into the shadows.  

“Now, now, don’t be rude,” he cooed, following her. “After all, it’s hardly polite to ignore a friend. And I’ve gone to such great lengths to visit you, haven’t I?”  

She finally stopped, turning to glare at him. Her eyes glowed faintly, a mix of annoyance and something softer, something guarded. “What do you want, Alastor?”  

“Oh, many things,” he replied, leaning casually against the wall. His grin widened, sharp and unrelenting. “But at the moment, I’d settle for your company. You’ve been rather... elusive lately. Why the cold shoulder, hmm? Have I done something to offend?”  

Y/N crossed her arms, her form shimmering faintly as if caught between dimensions. “It’s not you. Not entirely.”  

“Not entirely?” He arched a brow, stepping closer. “You wound me, darling. What’s the matter, then? Surely it’s not the season putting you in such a ghastly mood.”  

Her expression shifted, her gaze dropping to the floor. She hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet. “It’s... Christmas.”  

Alastor blinked, tilting his head in curiosity. “Christmas? My, my. What a peculiar reason for avoidance. Do explain.”  

She turned away, leaning against the wall, her translucent form blending into its texture. Y/N exhaled, the sound echoing like wind through a tomb. “The veil between the living and the dead weakens on Christmas Eve. Ghosts like me... we get one chance to sever the chains holding us to this world. If we succeed, we pass on. If we fail...”

His grin faltered, curiosity sharpening into something more intense. “And if you don’t succeed?”  

Her reply came soft and cold, a whisper that could freeze blood. “Then I remain. Trapped in this limbo. Another year of wandering among shadows.” 

The room felt colder, even for someone as accustomed to the macabre as Alastor. He studied her, his crimson eyes narrowing. “And you don’t know what’s keeping you here?”  

She shook her head, her form flickering. “No. I’ve been stuck for centuries, Alastor. I don’t remember much of my life, or why I died, or what I’m supposed to do to finally move on.”  

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a rare moment, Alastor was silent. His grin returned, though it was softer, less mocking. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”  

She frowned, looking at him warily. “What do you mean?”  

“I mean,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to an almost soothing tone, “that I’ll help you. Consider it my Christmas gift to you. We’ll unravel this little mystery together, and by the time Christmas Eve comes, you’ll be ready.”  

Her flickering form hesitated, her glowing eyes narrowing in suspicion. But she did not vanish into the walls this time. “Why…why would you do that?”

“Because,” he said with a shrug, his grin sharpening just a bit, “I’m not particularly fond of mysteries I can’t solve. And besides...” He leaned in closer, his crimson gaze locking onto hers. “It would be a terrible shame for you to disappear before I’ve had my fill of your company.”  

She blinked, her form flickering faintly, but she didn’t pull away. For the first time in months, she didn’t disappear into the walls.  

“Fine,” she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“Oh, my dear,” he said with a chuckle, his grin widening. “You’ll thank me when we succeed. And succeed we shall.”  

As the hum of the bar resumed around them, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that, for better or worse, she’d just made an undead deal with the devil. 

————————————————————

The radio hummed softly in the background of Alastor's apartment, a crooning tune from the era filling the space. It was warm, and cozy even, though the mismatched furniture and dim lighting gave it an eccentric edge befitting its host. Alasto stood near the window, twirling a pen idly. His hazel eyes flickered to the clock. Almost midnight. 

He wasn’t one for patience, especially when it came to matters that tugged at his curiosity—or his heart, as reluctant as he was to admit it. She would be arriving soon.  

Y/N was an enigma, a phantom tethered to the mortal plane by a mystery even she couldn’t unravel. He was shocked that she had accepted his ‘Christmas present’.

When he first extended the invitation to his apartment, she had hesitated. He had seen it, even when her grey eyes spoke nothing more than emptiness. The notion of spending Christmas Eve with him, pouring over fragments of her forgotten past, clearly unsettled her. But something in her had softened when he reassured her, in his own peculiar way, that he wouldn’t rest until her mystery was solved.  

The door creaked open without a knock, and there she was—her translucent form shimmering faintly like frost on a windowpane. Tonight, though, there was something different about her. She looked more... solid.  

“Ah, fashionably late, my dear,” Alastor teased, his grin spreading unnaturally wide. “I was beginning to think you’d finally succeeded in banishing me from your thoughts!”  

Y/N rolled her eyes but stepped further in, the heels of her spectral shoes tapping against the floor. “You wouldn’t be the first mortal to haunt a ghost, Alastor. I figured I should humor you with your tendencies.”  

“Who, me? Why, my dear, my tendencies could inflict no harm on you.” He gestured for her to sit.  

“You mortals always find a way to beat death, Al. I do not want to be the next example.”

For hours, they pored over papers and records he had gathered. Birth certificates, journal entries, death records—all faded and fragmented pieces of her former life. They combed through her memories, trying to find the event or unresolved emotion that kept her tethered to the mortal plane. Dead mother issues? Or the fact she never married? But with every turn and twist, with every new scrap of information hesitantly given, Alastor found zilch. 

Nothing.  

Y/N sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Maybe there’s no score to settle. No resolution for me.”  

She sank to the floor beside him, her weight surprisingly tangible as she leaned her head on his lap. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”  

Alastor froze, his sharp grin faltering. Her presence was... warm. Solid. She felt human.  

He hesitated, his hand hovering over her hair before giving in to a strange impulse. He began to stroke her hair gently, his fingers running through the soft, ghostly strands.  

She let out a contented sigh, her form seeming to shimmer more vibrantly under his touch. “This feels…interesting,” she murmured, her voice laced with something that tugged at his usually icy core.  

He said nothing at first, focusing instead on the soothing motion of his hand. Her weight, her warmth—it was intoxicating in a way he hadn’t anticipated. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, devoid of its usual mocking lilt.  

“Have you always been such a marvel of imagination, my dear?”

“I am afriad I don’t know what you mean…”

Taking his hand from her hair to slowly drift down her neck, to her collarbone, resting right above the peak of her chest; Alastor heaved a shaky breath. It was like he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, the veil between mortal and spiritual fading every second. She had a heartbeat, faint but still there. And pumping, rushing, delicious blood. Dusting her cheeks in a soft blush. There she lay, a smooth silhouette against his rumpled slacks, bathed in the pale moonlight that streamed through the cracked window. Hair cascaded over the pillow, framing her serene face despite its lack of life. She looked almost good enough to devour. 

And that’s what he would do. 

——————————————————————————————————

Taking a hand, he traced the outline of her curves. Admiring how the moonlight accentuated all her features writhing beneath him, casting an otherworldly glow about the room. 

The heat from his breath left Y/N soaked with desire, cunt clenching around nothing as she imagined all the things that were about to happen. How nice it would feel to be taken like this, by someone so dangerous yet soft in this moment. To feel the heat of another being if only for a little while. Hoisting her legs up on his shoulders, Alastor massaged the tip of his weeping cock against her hole. Not allowing a moment of reprieve, sheathing his heady member into her cunt with one stroke, he then bit the corner of her collarbone to distract from his actions. Y/N let out a quiet gasp at the stretch, gripping the fringe of the carpet below with each strong rut. The velvet of her walls squeezed Alastor so tight that he could have been convinced she was a mortal woman whimpering under his touch. 

Her body felt fuzzy and her brain was close to numb, all Y/N could think about was how fucking good it felt to finally be fucked. To finally be touched after centuries of neglect. And now, here she lies. On a half-worn carpet, bare before a man of sin and transgression. Dark marks marring her once soft and clean skin with the clearest sign of his possession. It felt ethereal, his gentle and languid strokes. Treasuring her, healing everything inside. 

Alastor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his thrusts becoming short and sloppy as his release fast approached. 

“Can I, cher?”

“Yes, please—“

Soft grunts left his lips and with one final stroke, spilled hot ropes of cum into, barreling Y/N into her own peak of pleasure as well. 

“Fuck, cher—“

Alastor then collapsed, chest pressing on top of her as his cock twitched, the amount of his release too great for her body to hold; Y/N marveled as it spilled past his member and out her greedy hole. The room was filled with silence, other than the sound of labored breaths. Sweat and sex filled the room, covering it like a blanket as Alastor slowly made the move to remove himself. Pulling out was the hardest part, relishing in the way her warm and inviting pussy felt around his cock for a moment longer before finally pulling away. 

Dazed and staring at the ceiling, Y/N felt as peace. Blissfully fucked and loved, like a precious gem only Alastor could touch and care for. It felt like her body was floating, though not in the normal way. As if ever nerve ending was alight with a soft flame, a delicate heat that she wished to bask in for the rest of her eternity. 

“My dear, are you alright?”

“Right as rain, Al.”

“Are you quite sure? You’re…glowing—”

For a moment, Y/N was puzzled till she looked down at her body. It was true, a soft golden light bathed her body in an ethereal glow. Shining from her heart out like a beacon that shrouded the room in a sense of peace. Soon, Y/N started to float, her body once again becoming that of transparency and spectator. The veil had a few more hours, so why was this happening? 

Suddenly, a large wind blew threw the room though no windows were open. With a roll of thunder and a crack of lightning, what seemed to be the heavens opened above them. Y/N tried to reach out for Alastor, her hand flying to capture his, only for it to slip and pass through his body in a futile effort. With a flash of light and an attempt at explanation, Y/N disappeared in a moment leaving Alastor to stare dumbfounded at his ceiling and nude. 

After a moment, he numbly walked to his cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Pouring himself a glass, only to down it at once, he resumed his sitting on the couch. The mess of newspaper clippings of a random girl's life sprawled across his apartment in abhorrent disarray 

Maybe this was all a dream? 

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 1: Devil's in the Details

Alastor x Reader Summary: Alastor hates Christmas or at least claims to. What happens when his partner tries to change his mind in less-than-normal ways? Warnings: Oral sex, use of pet names, dom/sub dynamics, costumes, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. First one, my lovelies! Requested by the beautiful and talented @redvexillum

The festive lights of Pentagram City were uncharacteristically cheery this time of year, a stark contrast to the usual chaos. Snow, or something resembling it, blanketed the streets, and garish decorations adorned every decrepit lamppost. Y/N had taken it upon themselves to deck out the hotel in Christmas splendor, despite Alastor’s vehement distaste for the holiday.  

“I don’t understand why you insist on celebrating this of all things,” Alastor scoffed, leaning against the doorway of the common room. “Such a trifling, saccharine excuse for joy. And those dreadful carols. They’re an affront to good music!”  

Y/N, perched on a stepladder, was carefully hanging tinsel around a grand, though slightly crooked, Christmas tree. They grinned, wiping a bit of glitter from their cheek. “Maybe you just haven’t experienced it properly, Al. Christmas is about warmth, giving, and making memories. Even demons can use a little cheer, don’t you think?”  

Alastor’s eyes glinted, the crimson of his pupils sharp against the glow of the string lights. “Cheer? Darling, this,” he gestured broadly at the room, “is an abomination.”  

“Sure, Al. Sure.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N sat cross-legged on the edge of their bed, the flickering light of a single candle casting shadows on the walls as a mischievous grin played on their lips. The plan was simple yet devious—if Alastor, the ever-skeptical demon broadcaster, found Christmas insufferable, perhaps it was only because he had never seen it from a different perspective. 

A skimpy Santa outfit, perfectly tailored to catch his attention and leave him utterly speechless, would be the centerpiece of their scheme. The collar came dipping low, the fluff leaving little the imagination while the stockings came knee height. And to top it off, a piece of fabric that could be hardly called a skirt finished with a silken black bow. The devil was in the details after all. 

Y/N imagined his crimson eyes widening, his sly grin faltering, if only for a moment. They chuckled quietly, already picturing his voice stumbling over his usual smug commentary. Christmas spirit wasn’t just about carols and snow; sometimes, it took a little creativity to light the spark.

The night of the big reveal arrived. The hotel was quiet, the soft hum of holiday jazz emanating from an old phonograph in the Radio’s demons room on the fifth floor. Alastor, as usual, lounged in his favorite armchair, a steaming cup of something, probably tea, in his hand. He was muttering about how much he despised the season when Y/N stepped into the room. A true humbug he was. 

“Alastor, darling~” Y/N called, their voice light and teasing.  

He looked up, ready to deliver a sarcastic remark—only to have the words catch in his throat.  

There they stood, wearing a Santa outfit that had been decidedly... modernized. The deep crimson fabric hugged their form perfectly, trimmed with just enough white fur to be festive but leaving little to the imagination. The slit in the skirt was borderline scandalous, and the neckline—well, it was enough to make the Radio Demon himself lose his composure for a split second.  

“Well?” Y/N purred, striking a playful pose. “What do you think? Still hate Christmas?”  

Alastor’s grin faltered for the briefest moment before returning, sharper than ever. He stood, circling Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. “My, my, you’ve certainly... elevated the festivities. Though I can’t help but wonder—was this meant to convert me, or distract me?”  

“Maybe both,” Y/N teased, stepping closer. “Do you feel a little warmer now?”  

Alastor’s laughter filled the room, rich and unsettling. “Oh, my dear, you have no idea. Perhaps this wretched holiday does have its merits after all.”  

“Good,” Y/N replied, a mischievous glint in their eye. “Because there’s more where this came from.”  

Nimble fingers traced up their waist, one hand coming to rest with a vice grip on their waist. The other tugging softly on the hem of their skirt before suddenly ripping them off of their body. Exposed, Y/N let out a gasp that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan  s Alastor traced a knuckle up the soaked clothed core. 

“Now come sit on my lap, darling….isn’t that what you are supposed to do?” 

Continuing to drag his finger across their pantie-clad slit, Alastor mumbled the words into the base of thier neck, guiding her back to his arm cahir. Working her way down,  His eyes widened as they sat, the messiness that coated their plush thights and painted their hole now came to seep through the fabric of his trousers.

They could feel his hot breath near her ear but as to exact location, Y/N could only but guess. The mix of excitement and fear pulsed through their body, all of it adding to the growing arousal pooling within them. Was he going to kiss their neck? Was he going to continue his assault underneath their panties? 

“Now my dear, have you been naughty or nice this year?”

With a dark chuckle, the red demon snuck a finger past the lacey red panties and dipped into their eager cunt. Choking back a moan, hands coming to grab the chair cushions with a vice grip, Y/N felt their whole world spinning. By Lucifer did he feel good. Y/N had sex plenty of times both in life and death but for some godforsaken reason, his one finger felt like they were taking the biggest thing anyone had ever taken. 

“Good, I have been so good—“

“Oh have you now? Walking into my room, in sugar a vulgar outfit? Not quite the thing to get your name on the nice list~”

To their surprise, he added another finger. Hips bucking involuntarily and they could feel the coil in their stomach get tighter with every dirty word that passed his lips. Trying to get out a few words, to warn him of their fast approaching release, he ignored their whiny protests. Speeding up and driving his fingers even deeper, adding to the already lewd squelinching sounds that fill the room. Each thrust is a delicious blend of pain a pleasure, with all thoughts clouded with the feeling of the his deft digits kissing their cervix and how absoluely debauched the words out of Alastor’s mouth sound. 

“That’s it, darling. Be good and let me see how nice my present is all unraveled for me.”

His lips found themselves planted on their neck, kissing and sucking softly at their tender flesh. His fingers hitting the right spot to hit every time that had the pressure building and building till they felt the coil in their stomach snap, Alastor’s name coming out in choked murmurs. Allowing time to calm down from the intense high, Alastor removed his fingers, licking the glistening slick off of them in an pornographic display. 

“My darling, perhaps you will wear this again, mhmm?”

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 3 - String You Along

Lucifer x Reader Summary: Lucifer had a strange request but who were you to deny him? After all, he always looked so pretty tied up for you. Warnings: Ropeplay(garland), sub/dom dynamics, blowjobs, use of names (Mommy), etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption.

Dedicated to the amazing and awesome @fraugwinska

Your bedroom life with Lucifer was nothing short of exciting. Always ready to try something new or lay back and take it slow, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner than the creator of sin and sex appeal himself. However, this request, given one night over an intimate dinner at your apartment, had surprised you. So you took great care in the matter you were currently in. 

Before Lucifer could choke out a pathetic whine, your hands moved to finish the last knot that kept his hands in place, the dainty garland firm around his wrists, and ankles, and a cute green ball choker in his mouth. He looked so helpless, so ripe for the taking on the king-sized bed, and all yours. His pale features were brought to life in contrast to the green plastic you had purchased from some hellish version of Five Below, only to wrap it in green fabric to make it a touch less itchy and irritating on the skin. Only the best for your king.

The moment the knot pulled taught, a surge of arousal pulsed through him. The garland linked to the collar glinted in the light of your shared bedroom, tethering him to your whims and wishes. His eyes looked at you pleadingly, desperate for any modicum of attention. He always was a touch hesitant in this situation in the beginning but after years of dating, you knew just how to make him croon with desperation. How to beg so sweetly with lips that bore the weight of transgression, teary eyes that witnessed the birth of creation, all for you as you made him find a demented form of heavenly release. You reveled in that sight, in the luxury of seeing such a man as he bends and breaks under your will and cries for more. 

“Look at you,” you purred, the thrill of the night filtering into you voice. “You look so pretty for me, Luci.” 

A rapid series of nods and a faint whimper were all you received before you knelt down, hands coming to spread his knees and reveal your prize. His weeping cock, standing at reverent attention for you to invoke your pleasure upon. Your lips began to travel slowly from the base to tip, feather-light teases of what was to come.  

How you would suck as your tongue could swipe his member, enjoying the salty taste that rushed from the abused tip. How you could take him all in one moment, a warm and inviting hole for him to fill as your cheeks would hollow out. Hands coming to fondle his aching balls or nails to scratch down his inner thigh to make him twitch and buck into your mouth. 

But all of that was to come. Now, you were content to enjoy his little pleas for more as he looked like a present for you to unwrap. 

“Don’t worry, my king. Mommy will take good care of you. I would hate to string you along.” 

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 6 - For Goodness (Snow) Flake

Lucifer x Reader Summary: The annual molt has hit again, leaving Lucifer absolutely miserable. Luckily for him, his girlfriend has a solution. Warnings: Handjob, preening, use of names(ducky), sub/dom dynamics if you squint, cum, water play, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by the pretty and perfect @primsgirl89

The grand halls of the palace Lucifer called home were always shrouded in a sense of elegance. Lavish, meticulously designed, and exuding an air of untouchable regality—it was the perfect home for the King of Hell. Yet today, Lucifer Morningstar found himself in a state far from his usual composed glory. Well, at least in more disarray than what might have been considered normal. 

The annual molting had started a week ago, and his prideful wings, normally a source of his striking authority, were now a source of endless irritation. Feathers littered his otherwise pristine floor, and the itchiness was maddening. He groaned as he tried to reach over his shoulder to scratch the base of his wing joint but to no avail.  

Y/N stood in the doorway, hesitant but determined. Her shy disposition usually made it challenging for her to speak up, especially around Lucifer, whose presence alone could send shivers down anyone’s spine. But seeing him like this—frustrated and uncomfortable—she felt a tug of sympathy and a little courage bubble to the surface.  

"Luci," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.  

His crimson gaze flicked to her, his brow arching as he struggled to maintain his usual calm demeanor. “Yes, ducky?”  

“You seem... uncomfortable. Would you let me help?”  

His lips curled into a smirk, one that held both curiosity and amusement. “Help? And how do you plan to help me with this?” He gestured to his wings, shedding yet another feather as if to punctuate his point.  

“Well,” she fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, looking anywhere but at him, “a hot bath might help soothe the itchiness. And I could... I mean, if you'd like, I could help preen your wings. It might make things more manageable.”  

Lucifer blinked, momentarily stunned by the offer. It was rare for anyone to approach him with such sincerity, let alone someone so gentle. After a moment, he smiled—less teasing, more genuine.  

“Alright, that…that actually sounds nice.”  

——————————————————————

The bathroom was a vision of opulence, with a marble tub large enough to swim in and golden fixtures of birds that shimmered under the soft glow of the chandelier. 

Y/N busied herself adjusting the water temperature, her cheeks flushed as the steam began to rise. This would be interesting, only about seven months into their relationship, she had never been quite this up and personal with the King of Hell himself. 

Lucifer watched her with amusement from a nearby chair, his long legs crossed as his eyes traced her every move. She was a curious creature, timid yet caring in a way that stirred something deep within him.  

“Are you certain you wanna do this?” he asked, his voice teasing but soft.  

She glanced at him, her cheeks pinker than before. “I-I think so. It’s just... wings, right? Nothing too difficult.”  

He chuckled, standing gracefully to shed his jacket and shirt, revealing the broad expanse of his back and the full glory of his wings, even in their molting state. His chest and stomach were equally as strong looking, shapely even. But what caught her attention the most was the carved V-line down to his very large—nope. Keep it together. Y/N’s breath hitched as she took in the sight, but she quickly turned back to the bath, willing herself to focus.  

Once the water was ready, Lucifer sank into the tub with a sigh, the heat immediately easing some of his discomfort. He leaned back, his wings draped over the edges of the tub, and closed his eyes.  

“This was such a good idea,” he murmured.  

Y/N smiled softly, glad to see him relax. After a few minutes, he tilted his head toward her, one eye opening lazily.  

“Oh yeah, right. Umm, you’ll wanna step closer and pluck one-by-one.”  

She nodded, sitting on a stool behind him, her heart pounding. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers grazing the base of his wings. They were warm and surprisingly soft, even in their current state. She began to carefully remove the loose feathers, her movements gentle and precise.  

Lucifer’s eyes drifted shut again, a low hum of approval rumbling from his chest. “You have quite the touch,” he said, his voice velvety but clearly enjoying the individualized attention 

Y/N’s cheeks burned at his praise, but she didn’t stop. She worked methodically, smoothing the remaining feathers and untangling the ones that had become ruffled.  

As her fingers brushed along the sensitive inner edges, Lucifer’s breath hitched. He bit back a groan, unwilling to let her know just how much her touch was affecting him. But she noticed the way his muscles tensed slightly under her hands.  

“Am I hurting you?” she asked, worried.  

His eyes roled by into his head, choking out a small sentence. “Far from it, ducky.”  

She did, her shyness giving way to focus as she tended to him. The once-pristine bathroom now bore traces of discarded feathers, but neither of them paid it any mind. All that Lucifer could pay attention to was the warmth of her touch, how soft her hands felt on his wings. How good they might feel somewhere else. 

His body tenses, his breath getting caught in his throat, as she works out another knot in his wings; unaware of his thoughts. Or at least he thinks she is unaware. As Lucifer closes his eyes and lays his head back against the marble, he feels the water stir. 

His eyes slowly open to see the movement, only to see her hand drifting lower into the water. A low, guttural moan creeps past his lips as Y/N starts to pump his throbbing member, his hips instinctively bucking toward her touch. Her touch is so delicate, almost feather-light, but hits all the right places. Pumping up and down, as her other hand still continues to preen, his senses become overloaded the moment her lips come to kiss his neck. 

He's almost lost for words, his mind clouded by a primal desire. He can barely think straight anymore, all his focus is centered on Y/n and what she is doing. 

“Fuck ducky, just like that—“

Y/N’s ministrations are slow and deliberate, working for her reward. Every movement is just barely on the edge of what Lucifer is moaning and begging for, practically humping into her hand. The way his cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red; his hands coming to grip the edge of the tub till his knuckles are white, it’s not too long before he is close. 

“Just relax…Luci…please?”

It’s all too much and soon he’s painting the tub with hot thick ropes of cum with a loud moan, floating to the surface to stain the water. Slowly working him through his high, Y/N removes her hand after a moment. Lips still hovering over his neck at the pulse point, voice low and soft. 

“Do you feel better now, Luci?”

God’s did he ever. 

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 8 - Tough Chestnut to Crack

Alastor x Reader Summary: Sitting by the fireplace, you wonder why Alastor hasn't even kissed you yet. Don't worry, Christmas came early, and so does Alastor when he hears of your concerns. Warnings: P in V sex, cum, first time, this one is pretty sweet and vanilla to be honest, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. The idea was given by @itsmskeisha ENJOY!

The cozy warmth of the evening filled the room as you sat beside Alastor, the flickering light of the fireplace casting soft shadows on the walls. The two of you had been in a relationship for a while now, a blossoming thing that started with quiet conversations over shared music tatse and sarcastic quips. You'd gotten used to his charming smile, his less-than-subtle demeanor, and his slightly eccentric ways of showing affection—hand-holding being the most physical form he’d allowed so far. You couldn't deny that you found it sweet, and yet, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder when it would progress to something more. You respected his boundaries, as any partner should, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have desires as well.

Alastor, ever the gentleman, sat a little too far away for the warmth of the fire to reach you both, yet close enough to enjoy your company. His usual smile softened as he turned to look at you, his dark eyes gleaming with that familiar twinkle. 

“You seem distracted tonight, cher” Alastor remarked, his smooth voice laced with concern, though it was subtle, wrapped up in his usual charming, almost theatrical tone. “Is something on your mind?”

You smiled, not hiding the faint hue creeping up your neck. “Just thinking,” you replied, glancing away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “You’re always so… distant, even when we’re together. I guess I just wonder when it might be… more.”

The smile that tugged at Alastor’s lips was a touch softer than usual, but still radiated that mischievous energy that he couldn't entirely hide. He chuckled lightly, the sound almost like a melody, but there was an underlying warmth in it—something that felt more genuine than his usual playful tone.

“I see,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, becoming more intimate. “You wish for more, then?”

You nodded slowly, your heart racing as you shifted in your seat. “I mean… I know you’re affectionate in your own way, but I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to feel a little more… close. I want to feel your love, Al. Not just in words or gestures, not that I don’t love those, but in a way that says you’re truly here with me.”

The silence between you two felt heavy, though not uncomfortable. It was a moment where everything seemed to hang on your words, waiting for his response. Alastor leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable at first as he looked down at your hands, both resting in your lap. 

Without a word, he gently took your hand in his, his touch just as warm as it had always been—steady, careful, as if each movement was deliberate and full of meaning. The sensation of his thumb brushing across the back of your hand sent a little shiver up your spine.

“Do you know,” Alastor began, his voice taking on a more contemplative tone, “why I’ve always been careful with how I express… affection?”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Cautious, you?”

“Ah,” he said with a soft chuckle, his gaze never leaving your hand, “it’s not hesitation, my cher. It’s a matter of… timing.” His gaze finally met yours, his eyes deep and earnest. “I’ve never been one to rush into anything, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. But I think… now is the right moment.”

Your breath hitched slightly, a small smile pulling at your lips as you leaned a little closer, your heart beginning to pound with anticipation. “The right moment for what?”

For a brief moment, Alastor’s usual theatrical grin flickered, but there was something different in his expression. No jokes, no exaggerated gestures—just a soft, almost bashful warmth in his gaze.

Before you could fully process his words, Alastor gently cupped your cheek with his free hand. The movement was so tender, so deliberate, that it made your heart skip a beat. You froze for just a second, overwhelmed by the closeness, before he leaned in ever so slightly. His eyes fluttered shut, and you instinctively did the same, both of you leaning into the moment. 

The space between you seemed to vanish as his lips brushed against yours, a soft and tentative touch, like a question. Your pulse quickened as your lips met in a kiss that felt both electrifying and gentle all at once. It was slow, delicate, a kiss that was as much about exploration as it was about deepening your connection. When he pulled away just a fraction, his eyes searched yours, looking for a sign of approval, a sign that you hadn’t just imagined the sweetness of the moment.

“Did you like that, my dear?” he whispered, a smile tugging at his lips.

You nodded, your own smile matching his as you pressed your hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. “Yes,” you said, your voice soft but full of certainty. “I did.”

Alastor’s grin widened, a mixture of pride and affection in his expression. He leaned in again, this time more confidently, pressing his lips to yours once more. This kiss was deeper, filled with the warmth of everything unspoken between you. And as you both pulled away, it felt like the world had shifted just a little, as if you were no longer just in the same room, but fully in sync—together in every sense of the word. 

His eyes had darkened after you had pulled away, as if you had taken something from him and he wished to hunt it back down. His hand came to cup the swell of your cheek, a firmer grip than his previous, but no less affectionate.

“Would you,” Alastor murmured, his voice hushed as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “like to continue this?”

You smiled, your heart full, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “I am willing, but onlu if you are too, Alastor.”

“I am more than agreeable to it my darling~”

Alastor pulled you flush to his chest, allowing himself to enjoy the sensation of feeling your rapidly beating heart against his own. The warmth of the fireplace was freezing in comparison to your touch as he reconnected your lips. Hands coming to wander and settle at the valley of your hips, giving them a soft squeeze of appreciation. With a small tug at your lip, his lips left and followed a delicate yet delicious path down your neck. Kissing over your top all the way down to your aching core; which was throbbing with anticipation and desire. 

You had never expected him to take it this far, this suddenly, but by gosh were you not going to stop him. Every touch of his lips against your skin felt like hot flashes through your body and his touch was the only cooling balm that could settle the fire that had started within you. His hands found the space between your bottoms and put his palm flush to your pussy, cupping it with a tight hold. 

“Shit- Al!”

“That’s it, cher. Let me take care of you.”

With a quick snap, your clothing and his had been magically removed in a quick flash of green. Alastor soon reconnected your lips in a softer kiss then the previous. Sweet honeyed lips connecting to yours in a silent declaration of devotion and affection. As if you were his guiding light, the altar at which he bowed and worshiped, the very name on his sinful lips which he would raise armies for without thought. A goddess for him to serve. 

Dragging a finger across your slit, Alastor hummed in surprise as he found you already wet and ready for him.Adjusting so he lined up with your already soaking entrace, he sunk slolwy into you. Inch by inch, letting out a soft moan at the feeling of your warm and inviting cunt. Made for him in possibly every way. He long knew by now that he was never getting redemed into heaven, but your body made him feel like he was there already. Every sharp but sweet plunge of his  cock caused jolts of arousal to shake your body, illiciting a pornographic moan to pass from your puffy lips. 

“Made me for, cher. So—perfect—“

“I love you, Alastor.”

Alastor’s thrusts started to become sloppy and heated, his eyes rolling back into his head at your words. Those three little precious words that sent him over the edge, spilling ropes of hot cum into you. Continuing to thrust till you came too as well, your own release was spurred by the beautiful image before you. Alastor, hair in a bun, dishelved and bare before you. Vulnerable, in the throws of ectasy, moaning your name. You felt the coil in your stomach snap as you cry your lover’s name, toes curling as your body shook with the weight of your first high with him. 

After a moment, he collapsed on your chest. Skin to skin, heart to heart. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 7 - In the (Saint) Nick of Time

Angel Dust x GN! Reader Summary: Y/N finally managed to get their boyfriend off for the holidays. So, what should one do with their partner during this festive time? Absolutely everything on every surface, of course. Warnings: P in A sex, oral sex(male receiving), dom/sub dynamics, sex jokes, cum, use of sex toys, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by the wonderful and kind @little-bloodied-angel

For the first time in forever, Y/N had managed to wrangle three glorious days off work. No emails. No meetings. No chaos—well, aside from the controlled chaos of spending it with their whirlwind of a boyfriend, Angel Dust. After a long and very…threatening meeting with the moth demon, Y/N had convinced Val that the Christmas shoot could wait and Angel needed time off.

 It was Christmas Eve, and Y/N had been eagerly anticipating this chance to unwind and fully embrace the holiday spirit, wanting nothing more than to spend time with Angel without interruptions.  

When they first told Angel about the time off, his reaction was predictably dramatic.  

“Three whole days?” he gasped, clutching at his chest like they’d told him he won the lottery. “Babe, that’s practically a lifetime in your world!”  

“It’s my gift to you,” they replied with a smirk, leaning against the kitchen counter. “But also, I wanted to….be with you properly this time.”  

Angel’s grin turned devilish, his lashes fluttering. “Careful, sugar, you’re gonna make a spider blush.”  

Y/N and Angel had planned the day down to the tiniest details. Matching Christmas sweaters were non-negotiable—at least, according to Angel. He’d dragged them into his favorite boutique weeks ago and convinced them to get a pair of obnoxiously festive pink sweaters. Glittering snowflakes adorned the fabric, with the words 

“I COME IN PEACE” and “I’M PEACE” stitched in sparkling silver thread across the front.  

At first, Y/N protested the idea, but the sight of Angel’s beaming face when they finally put it on had melted their resistance. Glitter and pink were always their favorite anyway.

The kitchen was warm and fragrant as Y/N took charge of cooking. The smell of cinnamon, cloves, and butter filled the air, and they were laser-focused on preparing a picture-perfect Christmas dinner.  

Angel, naturally, insisted on helping.  

“Helping,” as it turned out, was a mix of taste-testing everything, sprinkling glitter on cookies, and being a shameless flirt pinning their partner to the wall whenever Y/N tried to focus.  

“How ’bout I handle dessert, hot stuff?” Angel teased, sneaking up behind them and wrapping his arms loosely around their waist. “I got a few ideas—”  

“You mean eating all the frosting straight out of the bowl?” Y/N quipped, raising an eyebrow.  

Angel gasped, clutching his chest. “I would rather eat another creamy item than that, toots—”  

Despite the antics, Y/N and Angel ended up covered in flour and other…sticky substances. Hair was disheveled, cookies burnt, and clothing pooled at the ankles on the floor. Y/N’s tongue swiped over the head of his member, enjoying the salty taste that filled their mouth, contrasting to the sugar they had placed on it earlier. Taking him all suddenly, causing the spider demon to choke out such a delicate whine that would make even the best in the industry not question its authenticity, Christmas Eve was sure good at giving.

After dinner came the presents.  

Y/N had gone all out, gifting Angel a series of thoughtful items: a scrapbook filled with their favorite memories, a custom scarf in his signature shade of pink, and a pair of sparkling heels he’d been eyeing for months but never bought for himself. Along with some other gifts…a new quiet large strap to try out and some fuzzy handcuffs for the season.

Angel gasped theatrically at each gift, immediately trying on the heels and strutting around the living room like it was a runway while having the handcuffs on for dramatic effect. “Toots, I look too good. It’s a crime!”  

Then it was Y/N’s turn. Angel handed them a glittery bag stuffed with tissue paper and grinned as they dug in. Inside was a mix of sweet and scandalous: a framed photo of the two of them with “My Favorite View” scrawled on the back in Angel’s messy handwriting, followed by a set of pink faux-fur handcuffs and a silk blindfold.  

Y/N blinked, holding up the cuffs with a deadpan expression.  

“Guess we both really went for a theme this year, huh?”  

“‘Tis the season to be spicy,” Angel quipped, winking.  

“Oh don’t tease me now, Star.”

Quick fingers traced up Angel’s waist, pretending to softly caress, before pulling the waistband of his shorts down.  Angel let out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced by a soft sigh when Y/N came to stand behind him. 

“No underwear, Star? You must have really planned this out.”

“Oh come on toots, you know how much I love ya—“

Flipping Angel over on his stomach, Y/N had Angel suck on their finger before adding it to his welcoming hole. Prepping him for what was to come. Angel’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body subconsciously shifted toward the welcomed stimulation. Soon, Y/N removed their hand and placed the strap they had bought on, adjusting it accordingly before lining it up. 

“You ready, Angel?”

“Fuck am I ever—“

Slowly sliding the cock in, Y/N stretched Angel, both men moaning at the sensation and sight. Thrusting, taking their time to draw out every beautiful and sincere noise, Y/N relished in the sight below them. A beautiful demon, all theirs, to cherish and pleasure. The best holiday gift. Angel, slightly displeased at the gentle pace, bucked his hips backward in an attempt to garner more attention. Smirking, Y/N picked up the pace, driving deeper. 

“Careful, Star. Or you’ll get what you wish for.”

Mind clouded by desire, Angel could barely think straight, attention centered on Y/N and what they were doing to him. Hitting all the right places, causing his head to throw back in pleasure. It’s all too much and soon he’s cumming without warning, a pornographic moan passing his lips unrestrained. 

Coming down from his high, his eyes crack open to turn back and see Y/N smirking, pulling out slowly and relishing in the shiver that runs down Angel’s spine. 

——EXTRA CUT SCENE————————————————

By the end of the night, they were snuggled up on the couch, the remains of…dessert forgotten as they shared lazy kisses under a fuzzy blanket. That’s when Angel suddenly sat up, his eyes sparkling with excitement.  

“Hold up, babes—I got one more thing for ya!”  

Before Y/N could ask, he darted into the other room and returned with something hidden behind his back. With a dramatic flourish, he revealed a gleaming menorah and a box of candles, along with a plate of sufganiyot dusted with powdered sugar.  

Y/N’s breath caught, their chest tightening with emotion.  

“Angel…”  

“So, I did some Googling,” he began, twirling a lock of his hair nervously. “Turns out, Chanukah starts tomorrow, and I didn’t wanna miss out on celebrating it with ya, y’know? Since you’re, like, officially Jewish and all now.”  

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N’s eyes as they took the menorah from him, their fingers brushing against his.  

“Angel, this is… this is so thoughtful. Thank you.”  

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me,” he muttered, though the pink on his cheeks betrayed him. “But, uh, I got no clue how to do the whole candle thing, so you’re gonna have to show me.”  

Together, they lit the first candle, the soft glow reflecting in Angel’s shimmering eyes as he held their hand. A perfect holiday indeed.   

[dewdropdinosaur]

DewDropDino's 12 Days of Smutmas

Happy Horny Holidays, my lovelies! Dino is back with an advent calendar of devilish delights for you. MDNI, ALL WORK IS 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. All work is my own and should not be plagiarised, stolen, or otherwise used in any capacity without my permission. All fics will be updated continuously.

Day 1: Devil’s in the Details - Alastor x Reader Day 2: Merry and Right - Alastor x Reader Day 3: String You Along - Lucifer x Reader Day 4: White Christmas - Vox x Reader Day 5: Stuff Your Stocking - Alastor x Reader Day 6: For Goodness(Snow)Flake - Lucifer x Reader Day 7: In the(Saint) Nick of Time - Angel Dust x Reader Day 8: Tough Chestnut to Crack - Alastor x Reader Day 9: Egg-Snog - Alastor x Reader Day 10: Ghost of Christmas Present - Vox x Reader Day 11: Mistle-hoe - Lucifer x Reader Day 12: Fleece Navidad - Lucifer x Reader

[dewdropdinosaur]

So I am doing “Dino’s 12 Days of Smutmas”!! Super excited but I need prompts!

Fics will start Dec 12th!!

So my request box is open, and my pinned post has request guidelines!

Essentially, send a smutty x reader fic idea for one of the twelve days with any fandom I have listed or have written for in the past

So have fun my lovelies!

- Dewdrop/Dewy

[dewdropdinosaur]

DewDrop Dino's Masterlist

Hi there! My name is DewdropDinosaur, also known as Dewy or Dino! I primarily write for Hazbin Hotel but also for Arcane, Marvel, and a few others. I hope you enjoy my writing! All master lists are linked! Enjoy Your Day My Lovelies!

Request Guidelines 

Request Box Status: OPEN(tentatively)

Full Fics: Mildly Concerned with the Weather(Silco x OC) - Ao3 Link Imagines: Hazbin Hotel Masterlist Arcane: League of Legends Masterlist Lord of the Rings/Hobbit Masterlist 2024: Kinktober: Prompts/Masterlist Smutmas: Prompts/Masterlist DINO'S NUGGETS

[fraugwinska]

How to beg so sweetly with lips that bore the weight of transgression, teary eyes that witnessed the birth of creation, all for you as you made him find a demented form of heavenly release. You reveled in that sight, in the luxury of seeing such a man as he bends and breaks under your will and cries for more. 

As I recover from working 40+ hours in a new job after a year of job searching.... I get a Christmas gift early! Dino, you are a marvel, and I'm honored that the 'M9mmy' kink piece is dedicated to me... Do I spot an underlying message? 😜 Mommy has been fed well!

Check out my lovely friend @dewdropdinosaur (and, while you're at it, @redvexillum ) for an unhealthy, heathen and absolutely wonderful smutmas experience! I, too, will return in good time, as my energy and will to write is gradually coming back! weeee!

Smutmas Day 3 - String You Along

Lucifer x Reader Summary: Lucifer had a strange request but who were you to deny him? After all, he always looked so pretty tied up for you. Warnings: Ropeplay(garland), sub/dom dynamics, blowjobs, use of names (Mommy), etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption.

Dedicated to the amazing and awesome @fraugwinska

Your bedroom life with Lucifer was nothing short of exciting. Always ready to try something new or lay back and take it slow, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner than the creator of sin and sex appeal himself. However, this request, given one night over an intimate dinner at your apartment, had surprised you. So you took great care in the matter you were currently in. 

Before Lucifer could choke out a pathetic whine, your hands moved to finish the last knot that kept his hands in place, the dainty garland firm around his wrists, and ankles, and a cute green ball choker in his mouth. He looked so helpless, so ripe for the taking on the king-sized bed, and all yours. His pale features were brought to life in contrast to the green plastic you had purchased from some hellish version of Five Below, only to wrap it in green fabric to make it a touch less itchy and irritating on the skin. Only the best for your king.

The moment the knot pulled taught, a surge of arousal pulsed through him. The garland linked to the collar glinted in the light of your shared bedroom, tethering him to your whims and wishes. His eyes looked at you pleadingly, desperate for any modicum of attention. He always was a touch hesitant in this situation in the beginning but after years of dating, you knew just how to make him croon with desperation. How to beg so sweetly with lips that bore the weight of transgression, teary eyes that witnessed the birth of creation, all for you as you made him find a demented form of heavenly release. You reveled in that sight, in the luxury of seeing such a man as he bends and breaks under your will and cries for more. 

“Look at you,” you purred, the thrill of the night filtering into you voice. “You look so pretty for me, Luci.” 

A rapid series of nods and a faint whimper were all you received before you knelt down, hands coming to spread his knees and reveal your prize. His weeping cock, standing at reverent attention for you to invoke your pleasure upon. Your lips began to travel slowly from the base to tip, feather-light teases of what was to come.  

How you would suck as your tongue could swipe his member, enjoying the salty taste that rushed from the abused tip. How you could take him all in one moment, a warm and inviting hole for him to fill as your cheeks would hollow out. Hands coming to fondle his aching balls or nails to scratch down his inner thigh to make him twitch and buck into your mouth. 

But all of that was to come. Now, you were content to enjoy his little pleas for more as he looked like a present for you to unwrap. 

“Don’t worry, my king. Mommy will take good care of you. I would hate to string you along.”