Lucifer

lucifer stared at himself in the mirror, towel wrapped around his waist. his eye bags were darker, skin paler than it should’ve been. he had gained some weight, too. his stomach had more of a pudge than it used to and he was gaining some fat around his thighs.

people said they couldn’t see a difference but he did. he saw it and he hated it.

he was the king of hell- he was supposed to be desirable and powerful. not insecure and pathetic. poking a finger at his stomach, he’d cringe, brows furrowing. dropping his hand to his side, eyes staring holes into the parts of his body he wished he could burn off, lucifer sighed.

this time, he was more focused on his face. his eyes weren’t as red, his cheeks weren’t as pink as they used to be, and overall he looked like a mess. he pulled his eyelid down, sticking his tongue out at the mirror before straightening himself up.

he ran a hand through his hair, trying his best to style it before giving up halfway and letting it fall over his face.

walking out of the bathroom, he spotted you in bed on your phone.

you were his new partner- and hopefully a permanent one. the two of you have been together for about two years now- having met accidentally. though he definitely doesn’t regret meeting you. you were sweet and made him feel important- even when he felt like he wasn’t.

letting out a groan, he slipped into the bed with you, sliding into your arms and digging his face into your neck. with a huff, his fingers found your shoulders and he slid his arms under your upper back. pulling himself closer to you, he sighed.

your hand was soft in his hair and your kind praises made his heart soar.

---

“are you sure?”

“you may wanna stop once you see.”

“i can’t show you.”

his words were quick and rehearsed, responses ready on his tongue every time your hands would wander too far. he’d lean away and deny you, words leaving his lips before he could even think.

lucifer wasn’t sure what he’d do if you saw him. he refused to shower with you- refused to let you see any part of him. it wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive- he thought you were the literal definition of sin- but he was afraid that you wouldn’t find him attractive.

it took a lot of kind words and convincing just to get his shirt off. even then, he leaned away and kept his head down.

your hands were soft on his skin and your fingers ran over his chest and stomach, praises spilling from your lips like a waterfall. they sounded so natural, so genuine, and it hurt his chest.

---

when you kissed his neck, it felt nice. he was used to it. when your lips shifted down to his collarbone and the top of his chest, he panicked a bit.

your words rang through his head and he found it hard to believe you were lying- so he let himself listen, taking in every praise and compliment.

it wasn’t long until you were sitting over him, hand unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down his legs.

your hand was warm and wet on his cock, bottle of lube on the nightstand. even when he had an arm thrown over his face and his cock was leaking in your palm, you didn’t stop talking, kept praising him and telling him how beautiful you thought he was.

he huffed into his arm, face glowing gold as he risked a glance up at you. he met your eyes and fought the urge to look away, eyes blurry and thoughts jumbled. “you- come on, you don’t need to lie,” he mumbles, a low moan escaping his lips when your finger rubbed over the head of his cock. his back arched up into the touch and he let out a whine, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to feel your stare- your state that was filled with so much admiration it made his head hurt.