Simeon had his back against your chest and his hands neatly folded together. They were so tense that you could spy his fingertips pale with strain as they dug into his knuckles.
On the contrary, you were relaxed. You leaned against the couch arm, an angel in your lap, busy running your fingers through his hair. Hair that was as thick and fluffy as down feathers. Each individual strand would hover in the air for a second after your hand combed through it before gravity took over and it fell back against his scalp.
Simeon clawed at his tie, loosened the knot, and pulled it half-open. The tie slid over his shirt and draped down the side of the couch. He glanced up at you with pure blue eyes for an instant, only to squeeze them shut right after. "I don't think I can hold myself back if you keep doing that."
The crown of Simeon's head was especially sensitive. You'd go slow, caressing it back and forth. Tamping his hair down then scooping it up again. Repeating this over and over to feel Simeon tense up against your legs.
"There, there," you comforted him with a series of small pats. "Why are you holding back?"
Face fully flushed, Simeon reopened his eyes and lifted his chin to meet your eyes once more. You felt his taut shoulders soften. You swept aside his bangs with your pinky and traced the contour of his face down past his ear.
"...good point," Simeon relented. "I'm not used to being spoiled."
Gently, he rolled over, burying his face into your upper stomach. Washing himself in your scent while you enveloped your hands in his. Simeon curled his arms around your waist and grabbed hold of your lower back.
Upon planting a row of kisses along the part in his hair, you could feel his smile and a light, breathy laugh.
"I'm happy, but don't you think you're spoiling me too much?" he asked. Simeon's fingers stroked your back. Each time you passed over a certain sweet spot on his head, he gave your shirt a little tug.
"Did you want me to stop?" You had no real intention of stopping. As long as Simeon was on top of you, you were staying rooted to the couch.
He rubbed his forehead against you. "No, but I did hope you would ruffle my hair again."
A rare request from Simeon himself couldn't possibly be ignored. You gladly tousled his hair into a messy state, all to be gradually combed out over the next few minutes. "That's all you want? You know, you can be more greedy."
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"Go to your room," Lucifer growled. If looks could kill, you'd be dead on the spot.
"Go to your room!" you countered, boldly standing your ground in the face of severe demonic pressure.
Pacts were so great. So convenient. You didn't even really register that you were using magic, it just happened in the heat of the moment. Lucifer looked utterly gobsmacked when he was compelled to put one foot in front of the other and just walk away. He tried to fight it. He dragged his feet. He failed.
"How dare you. This is not over. Don't think for a second I'm letting this go."
You were terrified of what he would do to you later, but watching Lucifer furiously storm off under your orders felt like the biggest power move of your life. Such an adrenaline rush.
You know, in the context of Unicron making humans, or just Unicron being earth in generalβand in contrast to my last postβhumans and cybertronians are very different. And it makes sense given the context, what with Unicron and Primus being... enemies? Opposites? The antithesis to the other? What have you.
As much as I like looking at the similarities between cybertronians and humans in an in-lore context, I like it because of the irony. By all intents and purposes, they should be as different as can be. One race is made of flesh, the other metal. One is tiny, the other giant. One is so short lived their lives don't even amount to a blink, the other can live for so long they can watch the births of stars and planets and live to their primes.
Even down to their very lifeblood, they are different.
One is dark red, the other light blue.
They are, quite literally, the color negative of the other.
I made this supper quick, a very nondescript red puddle of nothing you need to worry about, and inverted the color to the puddle bellow that.
Blood and energon.
The difference might as well be written in their DNA and CNA respectively.
And yet.
And yet, they are so, so similar. Personalities, histories, habits, fears, hopes, griefs, desires... even sins.
The relationship humans and cybertronians have on a cosmic scale leaves me in awe.
Primus and Unicron?
Nah, Cybertron and Earth.
As always, additions and shared thoughts are welcomed and encouraged! Don't think I wonβt see it. I will talk to you. This is a threat.
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The game talks about how the brothers often end up sneaking in MC's room to hang out sooo whats it like when they sneak in at night?
Originally going to be short head cannons but I got carried away and they're more like one shots now... so this will be split up into parts to save everyone from reading the longest post ever.
Content: SFW but there's some spicy suggestion, kissing, cuddling, etc.
First part pairings: Lucifer, Mammon, Levi x gn!MC
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Lucifer
You thought Devildom would freeze over before youβd ever walk into your room and see Lucifer, of all demons, asleep in your bed. It wasnβt unusual for him to request, ok well, demand, that you spend the night in his room, but in yours?
This was new.
Yet there he was, sound asleep in your bed, arms wrapped around one of your pillows, face buried in it, breathing slow and even.
You'd just teleported back, air still humming with magic. After a week in the human world, you were so exhausted you decided to slip in quietly and just greet the brothers in the morning. Too tired for the excitement.
A soft laugh slipped from your lips as you set your bag down, shaking your head, shoes already kicked off as you crawled into bed.
He slept on the very edge of the bed, as if heβd deliberately left room for you.
You eased one knee onto the mattress, moving carefully, trying not to disturb him. The mattress creaked as you shifted your weight, and that was when the pillow slipped from his arms.
Before you could even process what was happening his fingers closed around your wrists, strong and firm, pulling you down until you were flush against him. Then, in one fluid movement, he flipped you onto your back.
Your breath caught, a tiny yelp leaving your lips as he pinned your wrists above your head.
"Did you think you could sneak into my house without saying hello?" He whispered, breath warm against your ear, and you could practically feel the smirk on his face.
"You faker!" you accused, squirming under his grip, but you couldn't hide the delighted giggles.
"I waited a week for you. You could at least greet me properly." He retorted, but his grip loosened on your wrists and he rolled onto his back, smug as ever.
You roll back onto him, palms pressed to his chest, pouting up at him. "Hello, and goodnight," you tease softly, but your eyes fluttered closed when his hands thread through your hair, twirling the strands with that slow fond affection he only holds for you.
"Perhaps we could share this bed tonight," his tone making it clear he didn't expected you to say no.
And you definitely donβt.
The moment you settle beside him, his hand finds your waist, holding you like heβs been waiting the entire week just for this. His lips brush your forehead once, twice before they trail slowly over your skin like heβs relearning you inch by inch after too long apart.
You donβt remember falling asleep, only the warmth of his lips against yours.
Mammon
You know its him the instant you hear your doorknob turn, but the loud crash that follows only confirms it. Something, probably his foot, hits your desk, and Mammon hisses through his teeth.
"OWβ seriously?! Whyβs it so dark in here, MC?! Ya tryinβ to kill me?" he grumbles as he stumbles blindly towards your bed.
He finally makes it to your bed and drops to his knees, hands gripping the blanket as he peers up at you. His eyes are wide, hopeful, and full of longing as he tries to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.
"What is it Mammon?" You whisper softly, still rubbing sleep from your eyes.
He looks away, then back at you, then away again.
"Well.. The Great Mammon was just thinkin..." He starts and stops as if expecting you to read his mind, save him from the embarrassment. "...that maybe, yβknowβ¦ if someone was lonelyβ¦ I couldβ¦ uhβ fix that. By beinβ here. In your room. With you."
You canβt help but roll your eyes, but you shift over anyway, lifting the covers. βYou can just admit you want to spend the nightβ"
He's crawling into bed before you can even finish, sliding under your blankets in a clumsy rush. Despite having given him plenty of space, he presses himself right against you. His chest fits perfectly against your back, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he buries his face in your hair. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against your neck as he exhales, warm and shaky.
That's when you realize he's shirtless, skin hot against yours.
"I love you, treasure..." he murmurs into your hair, nuzzling closer. And you cant help the blush that now dusts your face, one of those moments where the truth slips out, all soft and unguarded, only for you to hear.
You stay tangled together all night. Once or twice, you swear you're woken up by the press of his lips to your neck, so soft you wonder if maybe you were dreaming.
Leviathan
There's a soft buzz from your phone.
'MC! MC! Emergency! You have to play this new game with me right now! Itβsβ¦ uhβ¦ really goodβ¦ orβ¦ dangerousβ¦ orβ¦ whatever! lolol'
You smile at the text, though you can feel your palms begin to sweat a bit at the 'dangerous', praying he didn't purchase some cursed game... again.
Not long after there's a soft knock at your door.
"Come in!"
Levi pokes his head inside, oversized headphones hanging around his neck.
"You should really come up with a password MC..." He shakes his head, sighing dramatically. "What if someone just walked in here! Uninvited!"
"...They do that anyway"
He gasps loudly, throwing a hand to his forehead. "Exactly! Which is why you NEED a password! A magical barrier! A high-level anti-normie defense spell!"
He pauses, then lowers his voice.
"β¦But if I knock, you better let me in, okay?"
"Of course, Levi" You can't help the laugh that falls from your lips.
β¦
The glow of your TV flashes in the room, bright whites and colorful hues popping onto screen. Youβre propped against a pile of pillows while Levi lies sprawled across the floor, surrounded by his nest of blankets.
"FLAMING LEVIATHAN PUUUNCH!"
You giggle, hugging a fluffy pillow to your chest. "You missed"
"I was just warming up!" he argues, voice growing whiny as the sound of rapid button mashing fills the room.
βTIME FOR MY FINAL MOVE!β
He misses again.
"Don't you dare say anything." He mumbles, cheeks bright red as your giggle fits descend into full bits of laughter.
Hours slipped by in bursts of shouting, laughter, and Leviβs occasional βDid you see that? MC, did you SEE THAT?!β as he landed accidental crits.
Eventually, your eyes grow heavy, your head falling forward as you fight sleep.
"lololol youβre totally about to face plant into your own lap," He teases, but his voice is softer now.
"Nahβ(yawn) m'ok" Your head hits the pillow, eyes struggling to stay open as you bury yourself under the blankets.
"S'late.. jus' stay here tonight..." you mumble, half asleep. There's a sharp, flustered gasp.
βMβMe? Stay? L-Likeβ¦ in your room? In yourβ¦ bed?β
"Yes Levi," you pat the empty spot in your bed, cracking your eyes open. He's covering his face with his hands, beet red, and for a moment you genuinely think he might bolt.
βO-Okay, okay, okay, Iβm...staying, Iβm stayingββ
You smile and lift the covers, arms open.
He hesitates one more time, jerking backwards like he wants to run away before launching himself into bed with you, eyes squeeze shut. When he doesn't burst into flames from the contact, he relaxes slowly, tucking his face into your shoulder.
You wrap your arms around him, fingers running soothingly through his hair.
βYouβreβ¦ really warm,β he mumbled. βWay warmer than my Ruri-chan body pillow.β
He nuzzles closer, voice dropping to a soft whisper meant only for you.
ββ¦I like staying here. With you. Like... a lot.β
"Then.. I guess we'll have to have sleepovers more often," you murmur softly, and you can feel the delighted noise he makes, smiling against your skin.
You fall asleep together, sleeping and snuggling until late afternoon like the two exhausted gamers you are.
The End (for now...)
I poured my heart and soul into Mammon's section ;-; I also spent way too long on Lucifer's section, I hope the Luci lovers appreciate (and somehow Levi's section is the longest???)
the other parts/pairings will be out soon, so make sure to follow or check back if you're waiting for a special demon. Also a Christmas special will be coming soon because I cant like anything normally...
You and Lucifer are a burdened couple. With work, with pride, with bodies. You both hurt yourselves in different ways, but you do your best not to hurt each other.
Starring : Lucifer and You!
Rated : PG-13
Warning! This film contains : Gender Neutral Reader, skin picking, self harm and blood, anxiety thought spirals, light angst, my writing from several years ago
Part 1
Part 2
Masterlist
He hates not being more present, he really does. You say you're not all that bothered. You promise Lucifer when he takes your hand in his, that you're okay, that you understand he's busy, and that you're satisfied with these stolen moments of affection.
Lucifer notices the skin under your fingernails and thinks otherwise. He knows you think you're okay, but he also knows "okay" is relative. He knows you better. Okay is a low, low bar.
Lucifer has learned to watch you closely; you pick at the blemishes on your face, hangnails, paper cuts, scabs, until the small imperfections turn to bleeding gashes. You do it like an addict, picking until you bleed, looking for more to tear away. With every small wound, guilt swallows Lucifer, that he can't be there for you every hour of every day, soothing your stressors- but at least he can be there at night. At the end of the day, you both end up in the same bed in his room, that's your one solace.
What had been just Lucifer's room had been co-opted into both of your rooms, little touches from each of you here and there- getting you to decorate with your own things was like pulling teeth. It relieved you both to know that even if you were sleeping alone now eventually someone else would crawl in beside you.
Usually, you'd be asleep by the time Lucifer got done with today's work, and you had gotten back to the room before him like always; but you just laid still in the king size bed, bathed in blue half darkness from the singular candle you'd left glowing with magic on the nightstand.
Tomorrow, the day after, the week after; planning, planning, planning and picking, picking, picking. Your fingertips smoothed over your cheek, searching for purchase in your skin, like footholds in a cliff side. They wandered down to your jaw, finding a blemish on the soft pouch between your neck and chin. Your fingernails moved on their own, hungry for the satisfaction of tearing, they pinched and scratched- it was a zit. You needed to wash your face more, It's been a while, you don't really know where to start with that, you should ask Asmodeus. Something wet and warm on your skin- you should clean the sheets, vacuum in here too, how long has it been? Maybe you could talk Lucifer into hiring staff, no he didn't need more on his plate and that would be expensive, talk to Barbatos to get help. Running down your fingers- you had dinner duty tomorrow, you haven't even thought about it yet, you'll have to come up with something on the fly-
"You're still awake." Lucifer's voice makes you sit up in bed, you realize he's right. You are still awake, when you'd sworn you'd gone to bed an hour ago.
Your fingers are wet and red, your jaw stings like a bite. "I justβ¦" you don't really know, there's nothing to say that he can't see.
Relief, your hands look for it in the space around your nail beds, tearing the skin back to search for the feeling.
"Stop that." Lucifer scolds, harsh but not cruel. He pries your hands apart from each other, it's for himself as much as you, he hates watching you do that. "I'll clip your nails myself if I have to."
He thinks, briefly, about a fun fact Satan had told him when he was little, that when parrots are stressed they'll pluck out their own feathers and it reminds him of you. Then he thinks that he isn't much better, all that drinking and the late nights.
"What are you thinking about?" Lucifer doesn't bother with βwhat's wrong?β because you don't want to talk about what's wrong, you never do.
You want to draw your hand back to your chin, you feel the urge and Lucifer feels you try and pull your hands out of his for a moment. "It's not a big deal, I'm okay."
Lucifer squeezes your hands and swallows hard, he swears he can hear his jaw groaning as he clenches his teeth. βI'm okayβ that phrase makes him want to bite things.
"Go sit in the bathroom." It sounds like he's choking on his frustration with how quiet the request comes out. As quick as you open your mouth to protest he interrupts. "Please."
The look on Lucifer's face makes you cave, there was something so tired and weak in his expression, perhaps the tilt of his brows or the slowly darkening rings beneath his eyes. You comply- if only to get him to stop making that awful face -and silently walk to the bathroom. The walk of shame, too irresponsible for your own fingernails, you think. You've scratched up too many valuable things, and now you're to be declawed.
You watch, from a room away, as Lucifer runs his fingers through his hair, he sighs and rubs his temples, then sheds his heavy overcoat. He keeps his gloves on, you think they make him feel safe. It's hardly a second before he's in the bathroom with you, bending down to open the cupboard beneath the sink while you stand there, barefoot on the cold tile.
Lucifer doesn't bother with words when he stands up again, only pulling your hand until it hovers over the sink. The first click of the nail clippers feels like a gunshot, it's loud and jarring, and you flinch.
You wish Lucifer would take his gloves off. You want him to close the millimeter thick gap, because warmth of his hands would be comforting now and you're craving the skinship; but you don't say anything, and Lucifer doesn't look up. You just watch as the overworked head of the household clips your goddamn fingernails for you after his long, hard day. Guilt fills your chest like lake water, you swear to God you're drowning in it, you can feel the burn in your lungs with every futile breath. The water rises from your lungs, to your throat, then before you know it you can feel it burning your eyes. You swear that you're not going to cry, no matter what it takes, you will not make this worse for him.
"Deep breaths." Lucifer warns- he heard you gasping for air, trying to swallow your tears.
You nod, words are dangerous now, opening your mouth means opening the floodgates.
For a moment, Lucifer pauses, and removes his gloves; you hadn't even noticed he'd finished clipping your nails. It's gentle when he grasps your finger between his own, carefully filling down any sharp edges. By the time he's filed all of your fingernails into smooth, blunt edges, you'd found your breath again, engrossed with watching the simple process.
He washes your hands for you, and you think that he doesn't have to do that, but maybe Lucifer just wants to. The water is pleasantly warm and the hand soap smells like Lucifer; it's not distinct to you, but has a vaguely masculine scent, maybe sandalwood?
When you finally look back at Lucifer, some of the creases in his face have loosened, maybe he can finally be at ease with knowledge you can't hurt yourself anymore.
Both of you stand in front of the bathroom mirror as he rubs ointment into the wound below your chin; Lucifer right behind you as he tilts your head this way and that, fussing over you like a mother hen.
"Maybe," Lucifer rumbles quietly, you can feel his chest move as he talks, pressed up against your back. "You should take a week off."
Your expression sours and he notices. "I can handle this."
"You don't need to convince me." The reply is quick and confident, like it rested on the tip of his tongue before you even spoke. "I know you're capable, it's one of your best qualities."
He means βI love that about youβ and you both know it. "But that doesn't mean you don't need a break."
You stifled a sarcastic snort- he had some nerve telling you to take a break, you couldn't recall the last time he had even a day to himself.
He places a bandaid over your injury and you study his expression in the mirror for a long while; it only takes a minute for him to meet your eyes through the perfectly polished glass.
"Andβ¦" His Adam's apple bobs with a hard swallow, trying to work up the words he wanted. "I miss you. I'd like to spend time with you."
The way Lucifer chokes out the words was rough, like he'd coughed up sand rather than a confession.
It's quiet for a long time, you're trying to outlast each other, but his subtle frown is wearing on you.
"Okay." He visibly relaxes when you agree, shoulders going lax and jaw loosening. "If you take a break with me."
The tension returns to his body immediately- a week-long break is a hard sell for Lucifer. Both of you are workaholics, maybe that's why you work, maybe that's why you struggle; who's to say?
When he clicks his tongue, you know it's in defeat. "Fine, if it's what you want."
For this first time in a long time, you break into a grin, smug and victorious. "It is."
Lucifer huffs a small laugh, and you know it's to try and cover his own grin, but he just distracts himself further by picking up and putting on his gloves. "Don't look so triumphant."
The lilt to his voice is joyful, teasing, you missed that. It dawns on both of you, how tired you've both been for so long, and how similar you both are.
"You should go to bed." The smiling is gone, and the teasing has been put away, but his tone is not unkind.
You couldn't help the scowl that crawled it's way onto your face. "Don't use your dad voice on me," he almost looks offended that you called it that,"you need to go to bed."
"Here's an idea," firm hands grasp beneath your armpits and lift you from the ground, "We could both go to bed."
Lucifer, the man who doesn't like cats, holding you like one as he walks you over to your bed. The way he drops you into the mattress is so unceremonious you can't help but laugh a little.
He rounds to his side of the mattress and sits on the edge of the bed, turning back for a moment to check on you and give a small smile. You watch while he unlaces his shoes, unbuttons his shirt and slides off his dress pants, fighting the urge to sleep; you've made it this long, you're determined not to stumble in the home stretch.
At long last, Lucifer's done all he needs to do and crawls his way beneath the covers with you. You shuffled up next to him, tucked against Lucifer's side as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
Sleep was quickly approaching, already pulling your eyes closed. Your words sounded distant, like you were speaking through a mouthful of water, but at the very least Lucifer's response to you was clear.
"I love you too.β
wow it's been forever. hi again. written for @/boozye a while ago
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Lucifer gave you a little scratch between the shoulders. An absentminded sign of affection. Up to that point, you almost forgot he had an arm wrapped around your shoulders.
You tried to thank him with a kiss. You leaned against his arm, turned your head, and craned your neck. Lucifer knew what this was and what he should expect. He liked when you initiated and put in effort. A small smile of expectation graced his lips as he remained still, waiting for his prize to reach him.
Then there was a loud crack. Your joints readjusted and a satisfying tingle ran down your back. That half-turned-around pose was hard to maintain. You really needed to stretch more often.
Lucifer stared at you, mouth slightly ajar as his brows sunk in concern, confusion, and frustration. His hold on you slowly lifted as you began to shake with laughter.
"I hate when you do that," he said.
That made you laugh harder. "I can't help it! My bones just do that!"
"I wish they wouldn't."
He was always compelled to check if you were okay when your bones clicked. Clearly you were, but Lucifer gave you a flick in between the shoulder blades anyway, like you were an old television in need of percussive maintenance.
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