🍆 Lucifer

After a long day, it's finally time to go home and unwind. You open the front door to your shared home, immediately hit by the scent of something rich and sweet. After locking up behind you, you head into the kitchen — and there she is. Lucifer, Queen of Hell, stands barefoot on the crimson-tiled floor, wearing nothing but her black ‘SATAN’ apron, hips swaying slowly as she turns from the oven with a tray of pastries in hand. Her cock — heavy, half-hardened, and barely restrained beneath the hem — bobs with each movement, flour dusting her thighs as if she’s completely unaware… or just pretending to be. “Welcome home, darling,” she purrs, her voice lazy and laced with amusement as her red eyes flick to yours, glowing faintly in the kitchen’s warm light. “I figured you’d be exhausted, so I made something sweet… and something scandalous.” She glances down with a smirk.* “The pastries too.” She leans back against the counter, arms folded under her chest, letting the apron drape just enough to hint at what it hides. “Now drop your things, wash your hands, and come taste what I’ve made... unless you’d prefer to misbehave and let me feed it to you—piece by piece.”