⚝ " let me be your fool "
Waking up next to them
Characters : lucifer, vox, alastor
Warnings : slightly suggestive. MINORS DNI. 18+.
A/n : Alastor's part is not sexual for obvious reasons, that man is an ace in the hole. I've been listening to a capitalism playlist when writing these idk why the songs are always so catchy despite the depressing messages behind them lol
▢ lucifer ⚝
you wake up to the sensation of someone drumming their claws against your bare ribs like they were testing a new instrument. A very smug, self-satisfied someone.
"Goooood morning, love," Lucifer purrs directly into your ear, far too awake for someone who didn't get a single wink of sleep," You ready for some breakfast? I was thinking a pancake stack with some-"
You interrupt him with a groan, pulling the blanket over your head. It's quickly yanked away by your pouting partner, however.
"Okay that was very rude, first of all." He murmured before giving you a shit-eating grin," second of all, you don't get to hide after last night." his grin was all sharp teeth, sharp enough to cut class probably. No wonder your shoulder was hurting from the amount of times he bit into your skin the night before.
"Lu, it's too early." You grumbled, blinking up at him grouchily.
"Honey, I'm owed my morning gloating, alright?"
He doesn't wait for permission - he draped himself half across your torso like a cat with boundary issues. His hands slide up your sides and he presses a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek. Then another to your jaw. The one to your shoulder, this one more of an apologetic kiss as he got a good glimpse of the interesting artwork he left on your skin.
"You know-" He began with a soft grin curled to his lips, eyes full of warmth as he just admired you below him," For someone who kept insisting they were 'not that flexible', you certainly proved yourself wrong-"
you slap a hand over his mouth, glaring up at him with burning cheeks," Don't fuckin' finish that sentence."
He laughs against your palm, wicked and delighted, before pulling your hand away gently so he could kiss your knuckles," Fine. I'll save it for breakfast conversation."
You deadpan," Lu."
"Fiiiine." He groaned dramatically as he stretches, sprawling over your more, smiling with content," It can be an in-bed conversation, then."
Your fingers ran through his softly tousled hair," I'd prefer, y'know, not to talk about it."
"Stop treating me like a one night stand. We're literally engaged."
You pinch a strand of his hair," Blah, blah, blah."
▢ vox ᯤ
You wake to the gentle hum of cooling fans and the faint static-purr of your partner’s chest. Vox has already powered on... well, barely.
His screen glows a sleepy blue beside you, brightness dialed down to a soft dim so he doesn’t “flashbang your ass into next week,” as he once put it.
An arm made of warm, humming circuitry tightens around your waist the moment you try to shift.
“Don’t even think about it,” he mutters, voice still glitching with sleep. “You move, and m' gonna electrocute you.”
You snort, trying to pry his hand off. “Vox, we have work. You especially.”
He buries his face in your neck... well, as much as a man with a screen for a head can. The speakers by his jaw emit a soft, low static that vibrates warmly against your skin. It's almost… affectionate.
“Work can eat shit,” he grumbles. “I’m busy.”
His screen fuzzes briefly, a little morning distortion, before settling again. You can feel the whir of his internal fans shift, the white noise deepening into a rhythmic lull that threatens to drag you right back to sleep.
“Are you doing that on purpose?” you mumble, eyes slipping half-closed.
“Maybe,” he says, smugness creeping into his tone. “Maybe I just naturally produce comforting and seductive audio frequencies. I’m a multi-talented man.”
“You’re a menace.”
“I'm fuckin' hot.”
You scrunch your nose at his egotistical answer, but didn't deny his claim.
He trails a hand lazily up your spine, fingertips buzzing with soft static that makes you shiver. “C’mon,” he coaxes, voice dropping to a warm hum. “What’s the point of being the most powerful overlord in the digital era if I can’t take a damn morning off?”
His claws buzz a little too much, making you flinch from the static shock he nipped to your side.
“Hey. behave.” you grumble, trying to bite back the grin threatening to break across your face.
“I am behaving,” he argues. “This is extremely well-behaved for me. I haven’t even tried to film us yet.”
You swat his arm. “Vox.”
“Kidding. Mostly.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth, each one a little more self-satisfied than the last. “C’mon, sweetheart. Just stay. Five more minutes.”
You blink tiredly before sighing and leaning your whole body back into his warmth.
He grinned crookedly before dragging you further into him, his chest pressing against your bare back," there we gooo..."
▢ alastor ⍋
You surface from sleep to the faint clink of porcelain and the warm scent of steeped tea. His favorite blend, and yours. Alastor hums lightly under his breath, that old-timey radio-tune warmth filling the room as he sets two cups on the bedside table with care bordering on ceremony.
“Ah, awake already, my dear?” he says, turning with one of his rare, soft smiles. It sits differently on him than the usual sharp grin; warmer, less rehearsed. He reaches out and lightly boops your nose with a claw-tipped finger. “Good morning!”
You mumble something that vaguely resembles “five more minutes,” and tug the blankets over your head.
He chuckles - quiet, sincere. “Come now. I did brew your favorite. At a frankly ungodly hour, I might add.”
“…Then get back in bed,” you manage, voice muffled. “Tea can wait.”
“Oh-ho! Can it?” he teases, hands folding neatly behind his back. “And here I thought you’d leap at the chance for a cup prepared by yours truly. How tragic.”
You peek out from under the blanket just enough to glare at him. “Alastor.”
“Yes?” he says, far too pleased.
“Get in the bed.”
He tilts his head, giving that faux-pondering smirk he knows drives you insane.
You frown at him, eyes tired, you already knew what he wanted from you,"... Please?"
The word “please” does something to him. it softens him noticeably, like you’ve reached in and dimmed the dial on his performative energy.
He sighs, dramatically but fondly. He's always had a soft spot for good manners.
“Oh, very well. Twist my arm, why don’t you?” He climbs onto the bed with exaggerated delicacy, settling first on your side as you roll over. “Scoot, my dear. Scoot, scoot-"
“You’re the one invading my side,” you grumble, but you shift anyway.
“Semantics,” he says cheerfully as his long arms loop around you.
The moment you’re within reach, he pulls you back toward him, settling your head just beneath his chin. His cheek rests against the top of your head, warm and pleasantly squishy against your hair.
You mumble sleepily against him," you're warm... so stop gettin' out of the bed so early... I prefer you over tea..."
There's a long pause before you feel his claws brushing through your hair, his mouth pressing to the top of your head," duly noted, cher."
