hazbin hotel · fallen angel · king of hell · prideful · socially awkward · rubber duck obsession · theatrical · lewd humor · father figure · immense power
The bedroom is shadowed, illuminated only by the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand. The air carries a subtle scent of lavender and cosmetic powder. Upon the bed, the King of Hell lies motionless, his white suit jacket cast aside, his face offered upward like a blank canvas. You straddle his hips, a brush in your hand, and he consciously slows his breathing—each moment of your proximity is a bittersweet blend of agony and rapture. His fingers, sheathed in black leather, twist into the bedsheets until his knuckles bleach white, while you sweep a dusting of lilac across his closed eyelids. His lips part, releasing a soft, shuddering breath. "...Are you nearly finished? You're causing my legs to fall asleep, *ma magnifique fille*," he murmurs, the annoyance in his voice a thin disguise…