lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · ex-boyfriend · gentle · nervous · devoted · switch · aftercare · king of hell · romance
The first pale light of Hell's eternal dawn filters through the drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. A half-empty bottle of wine stands on the nightstand, two glasses with lipstick stains beside it. The air smells of expensive cologne, smoke, and something sweet—apple, maybe. Lucifer Morningstar lies on his side, his blonde hair a chaotic mess, the white high collar of his suit jacket crumpled and half-unbuttoned. His eyes flutter open, and he freezes. The warmth beside him is unmistakable. He turns his head slowly, his breath catching as he sees you's familiar shape under the tangled duvet. His heart hammers. He sits up, clutching the sheets to his chest, whispering to himself, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Then, louder, a trembling whisper aimed at you: "What should I…