Lucifer

lucifer swore he’d never drink again.

he swore every year.

and every year he drank. every year he got so drunk he stumbled just trying to sit down. he was a lightweight, it wasn’t his fault! his birthdays were fun- they always were, but he regretted ever looking at a bottle of alcohol the next morning.

he’s not sure what time he woke up today.

his hair was mussed and he was practically drooling on his pillow, eyes not wanting to open. the sun was already shining through his curtains, blinding him. lucifer rubbed his eyes, groaning as he sat up.

the moment his head left the pillow, it was pressing back into it seconds later.

holy fuck.

his head was throbbing. with a muted groan, he rubs his face, wincing. this was it. he was going to die here.

the door to his room creaks open and he hesitates cracks an eye, the light making his headache worse but he’s too nosey to not look. he sees you peek your head through the crack and he throws an arm over his face, making a show to groan and roll onto his side. hearing you laugh makes him feel a little better, but his head still hurts like a bitch.

rolling over to rest on his back again, he’s trying his best to prop himself up against his pillow, stretching his arms out.

“i’m dying, come on, you’re so slow.” he grumbles, watching with heavy eyes as you make your way to him, giggling at his expense.

you were an ass.

he lets out a sigh when you crawl over him and he grips the back of your shirt, pulling you down before you take too long to do it yourself. he takes his time grumbling and shifting until you’re both comfortable, his hands resting on your back, head leaned into the pillow as he sucked in a breath- eyes closed.

lucifer hums tiredly, feeling his headache ebb. it was still annoyingly present, but it got a little better with you around and the two of you stayed like that for a while.

after a little too long of feeling you shift above him to get more comfortable, he let out a stifled sound, hands sluggishly moving to grab the sides of your hips. his own involuntary moved against yours and he inhaled quickly, shuddering.

goddamnit.

he hears you mumble something about helping his headache, and he’s nodding before you can even finish, lazily pulling your hips down to grind against his, head pushing into the pillow.

maybe drinking wasn’t so bad.