#Lucifer morningstar (Sandman) x Reader
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𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)
(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore.
They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you.
Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety.
—
Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed.
Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby.
But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while...
Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh.
You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh.
It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to.
You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience?
Thinking about it gave you a headache.
For where was the point in wondering?
You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because-
Because-
Wait.
Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of…
“Fuck.”
You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right.
“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood.
You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill.
There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy.
“Help! Help!”
Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell.
A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength.
“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet.
In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.
“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.
The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you.
Too late.
You were too late.
And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead.
Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage.
Too late.
You were too late.
You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed.
But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you.
Something–a sound–made you freeze.
It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement.
Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag.
Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did.
The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then-
“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap.
“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere.
You shook your head.
“Words. Use them.”
“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle.
“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life.
“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.
“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.”
“And the others?”
You blinked. “Others? What oth-”
“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent.
Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in.
“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.”
The gun still didn’t move.
“They don’t ambush. What really happened?”
Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures.
So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth.
“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.”
“How long since?”
“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own.
“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned.
Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.
“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-”
Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world.
“-we can’t just leave them-”
“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”
“-not stupid. We need more people-”
Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window.
“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone.
With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.
“Woah-”
“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?”
The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told.
“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade.
But she didn’t move.
It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak.
“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed.
Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went.
“More like a rat.”
And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.
You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you.
“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot.
With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest.
You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked.
“Um- thank you for-”
“Shoot them.”
“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched.
“You heard me. Shoot them.”
“Pha-”
“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?”
“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off.
“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”
You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude.
“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact.
Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming.
“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers.
“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-”
“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return.
“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view.
As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.
—
“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep.
Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun.
“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word.
Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you.
“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass.
The grass.
You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-
oh.
Oh.
You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit.
How fucking lucky were you?
“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance.
Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that.
After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger.
—
“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead.
It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.
Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.
“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches.
Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her.
“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms.
The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.
“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall.
You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps.
“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority.
“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline.
The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck.
“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.
“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.”
“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group.
“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself.
That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.
“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway.
Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue.
“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.”
Lucifer? Naked under the what?
You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were…
“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?”
“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?”
“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.”
“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.
“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”
“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.
“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.
“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”
Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.
Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body.
“Okay. Yes. Sure.”
“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider.
“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors.
You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you.
“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes.
Red lips twitched.
“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.”
“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.
“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.
“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.
“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.
You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up.
“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.”
You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat.
“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully.
You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right.
Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat.
“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”
A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard.
“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through.
“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang.
“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.”
“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips.
Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done.
“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time?
“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa.
“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?”
Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded.
“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted.
“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.”
Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.
“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.
“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it.
And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you.
Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence.
“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.
“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.”
She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.”
You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow.
It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away.
“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.
At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering.
“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant.
Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand.
“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.”
It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
#rippersz#fanfictionwriter#fanfic#fanfiction#wlw fanfic#gwendoline christie#gwendoline christie characters#larissa weems#captain phasma#jan stevens#lucifer morningstar the sandman#brienne of tarth#jane murdstone#anna welcome to marwen#miranda hilmarson#x reader fanfic#x reader fic#x reader#larissa weems x reader#phasma x reader#jan stevens x reader#y/n#x y/n#jane murdstone x reader#anna x reader#miranda hilmarson x reader#brienne of tarth x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman#got brienne
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GWEN<3
#gwendoline christie#larissa weems#principal weems#brienne of tarth#miranda hilmarson#gwendolinechristie#gwendolineuniverse#principal larissa weems#jan stevens#gwen in fabric#captain phasma#lucifer morningstar sandman x reader
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Bet with the Devil (NSFW)
Lucifer Morningstar (The Sandman) x fem!Reader
Summary: Following Dream's narrow escape from Lucifer, chaos breaks lose in heaven. At least for the Archangels like yourself, the lowest ranking angels in heaven. With few options left, Michael appoints you to run an errand down to hell wherefore you are to deliver a message from God himself. What could go wrong? (Angels are all genderless according to official lore, both Lucifer and reader present with female anatomy).
Warnings: Sexual content (cunnilingus, fingering, the works), roughish, blood kink-adjacent sex
Word Count: 7.2k words (Oh my GOD I'm sorry).
It was a simple mission. That's what you'd been told. Michael was preoccupied, and to send such a small errand with Raphael, Aziraphale, or even Gabriel would be insulting. God had better uses for them. As a lowly Archangel, you were cut out for small errands. They weren't usually to Hell. Sure, you were protected, and had all the necessary authority to visit Hell without needing to call in, but still.
"Deliver a message to Lucifer Morningstar," Michael ordered. "It bears the official crucifix, if demons give you trouble, bare it and command them to obey in the name of the Almighty," he explained, glancing down, a bored expression on their face.
"Yes Michael, I understand," you sheepishly replied.
"One more thing, Y/N," Michael said, extending the scroll outward. "This is your first time interacting with the Prince of Lies, correct?"
You nodded, taking the scroll from Michael, tucking it inside your robes for safekeeping.
"In that case, always remember, Lucifer Morningstar was the best of us before the fall," Michael solemnly declared, "They are still the most beautiful and charismatic angel to exist. Listen not to their lies,"
"I understand, thank you Michael,"
They smiled in response, patting you on the back. As the gates of heaven open, multitudes of angels pour out, flying every which way. Michael gestures for you to follow them, and you both take to the air, flying away from the horde of angels sent down to Earth. Taking his mighty sword, Michael cuts a portal through empty space, motioning you forward. Clutching at the rosary around your wrist, you dive headfirst into the flaming pit below you.
<-*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*->
Your feet hit the stone floor with a jolt. Distant screams and wails fill the air, the acrid smell of sulfur causing you to wrinkle your nose. The devastation of Hell is truly complete, after all, the malevolence of the Almighty knows no bounds. A demon shrieks as you make your presence known, skittering around a corner before you can even make your visit known. Silence enters the chambers, and you slowly pace around the strange coliseum-like structure. Pits of fire surround you, dancing vengefully. Turning your eyes upward, you utter a short prayer to the Almighty, requesting strength. This is the only connection you have with him, he cannot see you here, only direct messages can be sent.
Giant columns bear the weight of this strange place, irreverent carvings dotting the surfaces randomly. It's grotesque, and feels incomplete in a way that irks you. Taking in every detail of your surroundings, you're slow to recognize the hulking figure mere steps from you.
"My, my," they whispered, "You must be... An angel," They smirk.
The most beautiful divinity you've laid eyes upon regards you with utter amusement, vibrant red robes glittering in the faint light. Golden-white curls decorate their head, and the serenest blue eyes you've ever seen flicker over your features with playful interest.
"Lucifer Morningstar," you gasped, flexing your wings in surprise. "I didn't think it would be this easy to reach you,"
This comment seemed to amuse them more, and they chuckled, gliding over to a basin of fire. You watch as they slowly reach in, fingers fluttering ever so slightly before scooping out a handful of vibrant vermillion and coral flames.
"Who else but me would greet a rogue angel?" they chuckle, watching the flames glide over their fingers.
"I assure you, I come on official business," you promised. "I act as a messenger on behalf of the Almighty,"
This peaks their interest, their wings flexing ever so slightly. Dropping the fire back into the basic, they take a few steps forward, large frame bearing over you ever so slightly.
"And what kind of irrelevant message could this be?" Lucifer sneered.
The situation was a bit comical. A lowly Archangel cast off on a mission to relay the ruler of Hell a lazy rebuke, Heaven's equivalent of a slap on the wrist. From Lucifer's point of view, this could only be seen as insulting.
"Morningstar, I apologize for the unintentional injury my presence has caused. Aziraphale, Raphael, Gabriel and Michael were all preoccupied," you assured.
Lucifer chuckled, gazing down at you with a patronizing smile.
"No, don't apologize. I am charmed that heaven has sent you to bear this urgent message,"
You're taken aback by Lucifer's charm. Their comments are meant to be insulting, yet they carry an elegance to them. Lucifer watches you intently, reveling in how small you seem beneath them. You're oh so timid and shy, a nameless Archangel sent on a meaningless mission. It's cute how accommodating you are, how nervous they make you.
Shaking your head, you flutter your wings, attempting to regain whatever miniscule leverage you have.
"It appears you've angered the Almighty with your exchange with the Endless. I have been sent here to remind you that there are certain rules regarding exchanges between them, and that under no circumstances are they to be taken as trophies,"
Lucifer groaned aloud. "Please, these are just rules. The Endless are divine powers, they come and go as they please, and make decisions as their free-will permits,"
"I assure you that these rules exist to ensure balance. You cannot do whatever you desire without consequences,"
Lucifer laughs at this, turning toward you with a look of utter disbelief on their face.
"Oh, sweet one, aren't you tired of all these rules," they purred, reaching forward to gently caress your wings.
Shuddering ever so slightly, you jerk away from their grasp. Your cheeks flushed, heat tingling from the edges of your feathers to your shoulders. Touching wings was a gesture made by only the closest companions, thus cheeky gestures such the Morningstar's were considered taboo. Sensitivity and honor played a role in this custom, the former more pertinent in high society. It seemed only necessary that the prince of demons would be so callous with gestures such as this, making your mission all the more difficult.
"Perhaps you've forgotten decorum between angels, but I certainly have not," you spat, flexing your wings with vicious intent.
"Oh, how easily you heavenly messengers are to anger," they insipidly grinned.
Turning their fingers ever so slightly, a robust gold ring flickered delicately in the dim light. Chasing your gaze upward, Lucifer regarded you with a bemused expression, silently begging you to take the bait. Your nostrils flared ever so slightly as you breathed in deeply, gently moving to take a rosary bead between your fingers. Lucifer glanced down at your wrist where you had woven the object on to your body, and you watched with unguarded glee as their features twisted into a macabre look of disgust.
"It is not my place to engage in such childish games with you, Lucifer Morningstar," you preened, "I simply bear a formal censure from the Almighty. You may choose to read it yourself, or I can read it for you,"
You reached inside your robes to remove the scroll, the threadbare cloth soft from years of use. Heaven had no need of trivial things such as luxury. Heaven was the highest honor, thus even the merest of rags would glorify God. It was this state of self-righteous thought led to the consequence of indifference. A rough grasp on your palm broke you from your thoughts as harsh winter winds break through the mildness of fall. Eyes so blue, so deep that they could be compared to the serenest of water bored into yours with such wrath that could only belong to God's most scorned child.
"Bear that spiteful scroll in my presence and I will send it back to God with your wings as postage!" Morningstar snarled.
"Unhand me, fiendish vermin!" you insulted, "In the name of Almighty God you will release me!"
"Oh you poor foolish child," they growled, "You are in my realm, he has no authority here, and neither do you!"
Both you and Lucifer fought for purchase, their grip on your wrist made dually claustrophobic by the vice grip they held on the crux between your neck and shoulder. Instinct instructed you to drop the scroll, to break free from their grasp and fly to heaven. Your message would be delivered, yes, and you would be safe. Tossing the scroll as far from you as possible, Lucifer was momentarily distracted, thus giving you a window by which to escape. Shrugging away their arms was the final step to freedom, feet sturdy on the ground and wings flared, you took a step, grinding the soles of your feet into the slippery ground, you slipped. The sandals upon your feet, threadbare and devoid of traction slipped upon the lip of stone, and you slipped.
Time grew slower, arms braced parallel to the floor, to catch the weight of your body and your hulking wings. Freedom was certainly lost now, injury closing upon your tail like a wolf pack upon a doe. Wind rustled through your robes, bare skin exposed to the air currents; a product of your scuffle with the devil. Your eyes closed as the ground grew closer, that was until two arms encircled your waist.
"Ahh!" you gasped.
Red velvet-encased arms held you close to Lucifer's chest, your wings pinned outward. You were relieved, yes. But this was the devil you were dealing with.
"My, my, clumsy and naïve," they tutted, breath tickling the shell of your ear, "What an unfortunately appetizing combination,"
Your heart raced in your chest, blood flushing your cheeks, dizziness and nausea weakening your already vulnerable state. Your robes sagged open, bearing clammy skin to the cold air, and to Lucifer's vulturous gaze.
"Out of one-liners?"
"Out of breath," you replied, reaching upward to close your robes.
"No, no, keep them like that," Morningstar whispered, swatting away your hands. "I like the view,"
An obscene amount of cleavage was exposed, an expanse of skin from your collarbones to your sternum barely covered by the thin layers of your clothing. Whether it was their probing stares or their flirtatious regard of your disenfranchised state was irrelevant, the rapid beating of your chest made known your nervous state all too well.
"Come, sit with me," they inclined, "I am capable of civility,"
It wasn't an invitation as their tone suggested, rather an introduction of their intended course. With as much grace as one could muster given the partnership of a flustered, clumsy and hopelessly confused angel, Lucifer pulled you away into a deeper corridor, away from the green marble pillars and strange pictures. No faces greeted you down this strange passageway, no sound reached you. It was eerie how empty this grand structure was.
"Stop will you," Lucifer groaned, holding you still upon a landing. "You are impossible to lead, I'd have greater success with a three-legged lamb,"
"It would help if I knew where I was going," you glowered.
They scoffed, disregarding your pleas. Obstinate and self-assured, this was the devil’s main flaw. But you had flaws too now you realized. Greed perhaps? No. Not yet at least, you had nothing that you simply could not get enough of, perhaps you were greedy for air? But I suppose if you needed it, like needed it every moment of every day, it would not be greed? Maybe you were selfish. But how could you be selfish? You did not want, aside from the wants granted from above. Perhaps you were too meek, although the Lord said that the kingdom of heaven would be theirs.
“Quite a lot of thoughts in that big head, I wouldn’t want you to get too focused and misplace your step,”
Shaking your head in annoyance, you disregard Lucifer’s warning. Your thoughts were your own. They should mind theirs.
“How can your thoughts be your own if everything is dictated to you,” Morningstar pressed.
“If you would mind your tongue,” you seethed.
“Oh alright then, if you’re so inclined to your thoughts allow me to stay in them,” Lucifer’s voice rippled through your head.
The jolt of their voice in your head did more than catch you off guard, you found your step slipping, flimsy sandals sliding over the damp steps. With little more than a sigh, the prince of free will reached around to grab you by your waist, once again suspending you mid air.
“What did I just say?” Lucifer mocked, overly dramatic as they pulled you up, lips pursed for dramatic effect.
“What the fuck are we talking for?” you growled.
“Oh?” Lucifer smirked.
“I have no time to talk, I was supposed to return to my post by now, and I don’t have room for your games. Make your point, seated or otherwise,”
Lucifer’s expression hardened, abruptly dragging you toward and open room. The room itself was a lounge, a precipice-like opening above the fires of hell. With a flick of their wrist all doors and windows clanged shut, sealing you in a room with the Morningstar.
“Be seated,” they sighed, gesturing to a point on a couch.
You hesitantly obeyed, sinking into the softest surface you’d ever touched. It felt sinfully good, you thought, smirking to yourself. Maybe relaying messages to Morningstar didn’t need to feel so heavy.
“That’s right, relax yourself,” they purred, looking down at you bemused.
“Well, what did you want to talk about?” you half-heartedly pressed.
“I didn’t come here to talk, did you?” Lucifer crooned.
“Well, how else would you convince me to abandon my heavenly post and join your ghastly forces?”
Lucifer rolled their eyes. Inching over you ever slowly until at last, at long last, you could see just how deep those blue eyes were. All the rage, all the anger one could ever imagine welled up in those deep hues of blue and grey, irises dilating until all light from their eyes seemed to fade. How could their gaze be so hateful, were you that vile?
“Yes,” they sneered, lunging toward you viscerally.
The force they used to grasp at you sent the couch hurtling backward, leaving your skull to collide with the stone ground. Pain bloomed in the back of your head, and you gasped in agony. Pain met pain as Lucifer, commander of the legions of hell, sunk their teeth into the crook of your neck.
“Oh God,” you gasped.
“He’s not here,” they glared, lips lightly glistening with your blood.
“Why are you doing this?” you gasped.
“Because I know you, I’ve been in your head, I know how you lose yourself in my eyes, and I know just how flustered you’ll get when I do this,” they snarled, their fingers burying themselves into the flesh of your trapezius, knotted from the constant strain of your wings upon the muscles.
“Please!” you moaned, wings twitching uncontrollably. “I thought you were going to convince me to be here, this doesn’t feel-“
A long stripe up your neck silenced all that was left of your plea. It felt cool, luxurious and soothing. Fingers ran up your neck, burying into your hair, gently massaging the place where you’d hit your head. Pain bloomed into pleasure, and the rage-filled gaze of your captor turned bemusedly wanting.
“The head injury is atonement for the head ache your sudden appearance has given me,” they smirked, “The abuse of your back for the knife heaven has sent you to stab in mine, and the bite,” they chuckled, “Well the bite is just for fun,”
Morningstar glowed above you, light from the ornate chandelier creating a halo of soft light around their angelic features. They really were the most beautiful angel ever created.
“Yes little angel, look all you want,”
Gently, ever so languidly, Lucifer moved your robes to the side, baring your breasts to the chill of the room. Their gaze glides over the peaks and valleys of your form, smiling in delight as you blush.
“Tempting, so tempting,” they whisper, dragging a finger down your sternum.
Your breathing grows ragged, a desire you’ve never felt blooming in your lower abdomen. Instinct calls, and you flex your thighs, shifting your position, trying to find release from the uncomfortable clenching in your cunt.
“Poor little angel,” Lucifer drawls, running fingers through your tangled hair. “How desperately you want,”
It’s meant to be condescending, this statement. It’s not your fault, you think. Your innocence, the lack of experience, it’s not your burden to bear. If you’d been given the opportunity, if you’d ever had the chance to engage in, to learn this strange dance of limbs and ragged, animalistic desire, well, you would have.
Lucifer rolls their eyes at your inner monologue. It’s rather cute, how you justify your naïveté. But it’s boring, a waste of thought. Thought is the killer of want, to think long enough is to ruin any chance of acting instinctually, to chain the animalistic mind, ruining any chance of sin. Lucifer doesn’t much care for the act of sex, it’s carnal, sometimes entertaining, but this, getting an angel to sin? Oh my. What a lovely thought.
“Stop thinking little angel, stop worrying,” they whisper, pressing the softest of kisses on your ear. “The body knows, the mind doubts,”
Their words, the breath on your ear, it’s all too stimulating. You reach around their shoulders, pulling yourself into the warmth of their body. Your head aches from the trauma of the stone, and little prickles of pain bloom in your neck. You want comfort now, you want patient pleasure.
“Good,” Lucifer croons, pulling you upward, carrying you like a child.
They smell spicy, like a blend of pepper and cardamom, maybe even frankincense. Their robes stink of sulfur, but their skin smells of incense, perfumed oils and smoke. You pull away the awful smelling robes from their neck, burying your nose in the smell of their skin. Never before have you wished for fresh air, for the rustle of wind on your wings, the cool of a mountain breeze.
Yes. A voice whispers. This is what you must cling to, this is what you must remember.
Lucifer hisses, a sharp rebuttal, laced with mirth. You’re thrown, landing on a bed of satin and silk, but the sudden motion causes you to shriek, and you land at an odd angle, your wing’s twisting painfully. If Morningstar had been furious before, they were murderous now.
“I told you,” they shout, “Not to think!”
You shuffle away from them, backing yourself into the headboard, away from the rage of the demon in front of you.
“I didn’t mean-”
“You didn’t mean to?” Lucifer mocks. “I don’t care what you meant to do, you will not think, you will not ponder, you will only feel,”
Lucifer smiles down at you, canines bared in a saccharine smile. They flare their wings, dark onyx against the flickering red and yellow light. The anger, the flat out hatred, it’s gone. Golden curls illuminated by candlelight, soft pale skin defined by shadow, silky robes in luxurious tones, it’s all sensuality and elegance.
“Beautiful, sweet angel,” they lull, “Come here,”
Soft fingertips trace over your lips, your chin, your cheek. Gentleness and warmth dips into the contours of your skin. Comforting, merciful touches. The likes of which you have never felt.
“Yes, that’s right,” Lucifer praises, “Just feel,”
Their hands slide lower, running over your shoulders, your collarbones, the raw skin where they bit you. They grow closer, breath tickling the tiny hairs on your face. Lucifer’s lips wet with spit, eyes dilated in the low light. You desperately want to run your hands through their hair, to muss up their curls, ruin the delicate spirals. Their lips on your neck, on your cheeks, on your own.
I want, I want, I want, I want.
"Yes, good little angel," they whisper, "What pretty little feelings those are,"
"Can I?" you whisper. "Can I have these things?"
"Yes, yes you may," Lucifer smirks.
Wrapping yourself in their embrace, your robes sliding down your shoulders, baring your chest to them, your stomach, the top of your mons pubis, all of these things lay bare, vulnerability in it's most simple form.
"Beautiful, uncorrupted angel," Lucifer groans, "Bare yourself onto me, let me see you as the Father has made you,"
They pull your robe down, fully baring you to the candlelight. You shiver, the air here is stagnant, but devoid of heat. It's that of a cave, murky and claustrophobic. You're desperate for air, you feel like you might faint, you feel dizzy, like you might faint, like you might-
"-Shh, feel me, don't feel fear," they direct, pulling your naked form into their skin, toward the smell of incense and perfumed lotion.
You inhale, pulling down the red silk that smells of misery and rotten things, down off their shoulders, down their arms, down to sit on the bed, down onto the floor. I want, I want, I want.
"Yes," they smirk, "Want," they echo.
A burning ache fills your lower abdomen, an uncomfortable pulsing that only seems to worsen to pulse and clench, and you ache to be rid of it. Lucifer smiles, a knowing, pitying smile. Their skin glows in the dim room, and you try not to blush at the sight of their bare skin. You fail, and your embarrassment becomes funny to them.
“Sweet little baby, so young, so naive, how desperately would you like to be with me?” Lucifer preens, your lips inches apart.
“I-,” you stutter, almost ready to commit to them, to sin against God, to deny your creator, but then you want. Not for their touch, but for the sun on your face, and you shut your eyes tightly, breath growing heavy.
I can’t lose this bet, I can’t want too much. I can’t lose, can’t lose, can’t lose.
“Shh,” they whisper, gently pressing their lips against yours.
Fire blooms in your abdomen, hot aching fire, and it burns and flares and pulses at a rate that feels sinful. Their lips mound against yours, and you bury your hands in their curls, feeling the soft hairs between your fingers. Lucifer gasps in your mouth, letting out a low groan, smirking between passionate kisses.
Their hands snake down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You continue to kiss them, to inhale the soft gasps as you tease them with your caresses. Lucifer continues to lightly hum into your mouth, running their hands up and down your body, pinching slightly, running their short nails up and down your back.
“Please,” you whisper, “You must try harder than that,”
A low chuckle bounces off the walls, and you look into their eyes once more, to find them filled with mirth.
“I’m not trying,” they smirk.
Lucifer’s hands swiftly move from your lower back to your butt, firmly grasping the soft flesh. They pull you up and toward them, pulling you into them, breasts pressed up against theirs. You can feel the soft pebbles of their nipples rubbing against yours, the softness of their stomach, the hairs of their pubis tickling your thighs. But most importantly, they can feel you, the heat that comes off your skin, the softness of your thighs, the slight sweat that coats your body.
Morningstar presses a few kisses to your neck and shoulders, one hand tracing back up to your upper back, the other still massaging and pulling the flesh of your buttocks and inner thigh. It’s odd how close they feel. Their breath seems to come on all sides of you, the pull of their chest, the softness of their gentle hums of approval in their ear, it all contradicts the needy grip they have on your body, the way they pinch, and pull and suck.
Lucifer had moved to kiss and abuse the flesh of your shoulder, running their tongue up the soft welts left by their earlier bites. A hand continues to sneak up your back, and you gasp softly as it caresses the soft span of your wings. Their touch is featherlight at first, gently rubbing and feeling the tips of your wings.
“So soft,” they whisper. “Oh?” they smirk, an eyebrow quirking.
You feel then finger a particularly sore feather, encased in keratin, you’d had trouble removing the casing and you’d given up.
“I can help with that,”
Lucifer gently pinches away the casing, gently smoothing the feather. It feels heavenly, the itching sensation finally falling away.
“Thank you,” you whisper, letting your head fall onto their shoulder.
“Anything for you, little angel,” they smirk.
“Let me return the favor,” you ask, gently rubbing the crook of their wings.
Lucifer lets out a loud gasp, groaning at the gentle sensation of your hands on their wings. They hang their head, leaning backward, exposing their breasts. You continue to massage the sensitive muscles of their wings, sore from the sheer mass of skin and bone. The sight of their nipples is arousing, how they peak and stand fully erect.
“May I?” you ask.
“Please,” they groan, twitching and grinding their pelvis into the expanse of your lower stomach.
The approval is all you need, and you begin to slowly kiss a path up their sternum, pressing light kisses to the underside of their breasts. Lucifer shifts their hips, attempting to grind themselves against the soft expanse of your thighs. They grunt and groan softly, digging their fingers into the soft flesh of your shoulders, causing you to gasp and wince.
“More,” they beg, “Give me more,”
Their cunt makes contact with your thigh, silky wetness sliding against your thigh. They gasp and moan, pulling your face closer toward their nipple. Taking the cue, you gently kiss up from the bottom of their breast, open-mouthed, finally circling their sensitive nipples with your wet tongue.
“Please,” they drawl, grinding themselves against your thigh.
Experimentally clenching your thigh, you watch as Lucifer continues to quiver and twitch, their wings fluttering erratically. The continuous massaging of their wings seems to bring them closer to agony, but regardless of your fear that you are hurting them, they continue to grind and gasp and plead for your clenched thigh, your exploration of their wings, the assault of your mouth on the chest.
“Oh little angel,” they sigh, leaning into your continued ministrations of your mouth, the way you circle their nipple. “You are too sweet, hurt me a little,”
You look up at them in shock. Hurt them? Wasn’t that the opposite of what they wanted.
“Bite me a little, pinch me, be greedy,” they smirk.
The dance of limbs begins once more, but you’re cautious. Lucifer gently croons above you, looking at you with curiosity.
“Just try it, please little angel, just try,” they whisper, pushing your mouth into their breast insistently.
Lucifer gently pushes themselves into you, and you clench your thigh, gasping in surprise when they twitch and moan in response.
“Good, good little angel,” they praise, running their hands up and down your back, kissing the top for your head between the motions of their hips.
Their reaction emboldens you, probes curiously at the clenching sensation in your cunt, making it worse. The small twitches of their wings grow softer, as if they’re becoming accustomed to the light touches. Gently, ever so gently, you apply more pressure to the crux of their wings, rubbing the tips of your nails against the soft leathery flesh of their wings. Morningstar gasps in shock, grinding against your thigh with increased desperation.
“Yes, yes, more,” they gasp.
The caresses of your nails turn to intense grasping, pinching lightly at the skin, squeezing the joints of cartilage and skin. Lucifer rolls their head, emphatically moaning and sighing. Their skin is flush with sweat, pink and covered in goose flesh. They let their head hang, using your body for support, intermittently gasping and groaning. Morningstar’s hair is a tangled mess of blonde frizz, the perfect curls that halo their head are soaked with sweat, the product of your unnatural coupling.
"More," they growl, shoving your face into their breast.
Perhaps they want you to go faster? The gentle caresses of your tongue turn into soft suckles, and to your surprise Lucifer exerts more pressure on your scalp. You cry out in pain, trying to pull away from the pinpricking sensation of their tugs on your scalp. It hurts, it stings, and you try to twist away, making it worse.
"Just bite me, for God's sake," they mock.
You dig your fingernails into the skin of their back, clenching your thighs in pain. They groan and gasp, taking shaky breaths. Clenching your jaw ever so slightly, you take the tip of their nipple in your mouth, gentle running your teeth over it.
"Ohhh," they groan, writhing and whimpering in your grasp.
The sensations seem to be painful, and you would stop, if not for the hunger that boils in your lower abdomen, that clenching sensation that flares up every time they make a certain low hum in their throat, when they twitch just right, when their knee barely brushes the tender area of your inner thigh. Lucifer looks glorious above you, and the more you rock into their motions, the slower and more intense the grasps on their leathery wings, the harder you bite and suck at their breasts, oh, how beautiful they look.
"Oh, angel, sweet perfect angel," they keen, erratically thrusting themselves into you, into your mouth and the motions of your hands. "You've done a wonderful, a perfect- Oh!"
Lucifer's compliments are cut off by a strange surge of shaking, gasping and moaning, and you watch wide-eyed as they throw their head back, wailing at the ceiling in agony-filled bliss. Eventually the subtle rocking motion of their hips still, and they go limp in your arms. The great Lucifer Morningstar, God's most perfect angel, limp in your arms, panting heavily, slick with sweat, and, other things.
"Did that hurt?" you whisper, confused by the whole ordeal.
"In only the best ways," Morningstar replies, looking down at you with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. "Would you like to experience it?"
Lucifer seems genuine, caressing your face softly, and for a moment you feel wanted. You'd never been allowed to want, or to be wanted by someone else. As a vessel of God, of the Holy Trinity, it was your duty to serve, to never be served, but in this moment, you could be wanted, you could experience the feeling of being desired so explicitly. Would it be worth giving your soul up?
"It is," Lucifer smiles. "It is worth that and much more,"
There isn't a hint of treachery in their eyes, just the usual twinkle of mirth. Perhaps you want to believe them, perhaps that's why you kiss them so desperately.
Lucifer tastes like red wine and brimstone; it's like licking wine off of a stone wall. You like it, that much is clear. They just indulge you, messily biting and licking your lips, your tongue, running theirs on your teeth. Making out has never been clean, at least not when you're this desperate, this wanting.
"Pretty angel, so pretty," they croon, running their hands up and down your back.
"It won't hurt, you promise?" you ask, a little shaken by the ordeal Lucifer themself had experienced.
They chuckle, a soft, pitying chuckle, as if you've missed something clearly critical to the entire deal.
"It must hurt, otherwise it is simply no fun," they giggle, gently bringing you in for another kiss.
Their hands slide over your body, running over the ridges of your spine, the soft curves of your stomach, your thighs. Hunger pools in your body, and you cling desperately to them, seeking release from this terrible want that continues to build inside of you.
"You poor, suffering creature," they smirk. "Do you want me to make it better?"
"Yes, please," you gasp, barely thinking about your answer.
Lucifer laughs wickedly, pushing your shoulders into the bed, leaning over you with barely concealed lust. Their eyes seem to burn with animalistic hunger, and you wonder if it hurts to want that much. Lucifer doesn't respond to this thought, rather out of character to their previous actions. The stream of thoughts is quickly driven out of your mind when they press a series of hungry kisses to your neck, suckling and biting with merciless intensity.
"You taste like virtue," they groan. "It's so refreshing, I wish I could bottle it," they confess between kisses.
Their hot breath on your neck feels like fire on top of a violent sunburn, it just builds in intensity with prolonged exposure. Morningstar grasps your hips, squeezing and massaging the tender flesh, as if toying with clay. It's near painful, it'll leave bruises, that much is certain.
"I'm supposed to like this?" you wonder aloud.
"Not necessarily, but you'll like this,"
Lucifer drops their mouth to your breast, licking and suckling slowly at a nipple, and you watch as they take the soft bud in between their lips, making direct eye contact with you as they do so. The sensation of their mouth on your breast feels like agony, and you clench and squirm underneath their grip, the teasing pulses of that odd place intensifying astronomically. It causes you to gasp and groan erratically, as if experiencing some kind of forbidden torment, the worst kind. Lucifer moans in response to a particularly vocal keen, rewarding you with a soft bite to your nipple. The sensation is overwhelming, you jerk your hips upward, seeking relief from the hotness that extends from your cunt.
Lucifer firmly pins your hips down, humming softly as you continue to wriggle and gasp underneath them. Regardless of how desperately you desire them, how awfully the sensation burns, Lucifer does not quicken their pace, riling you up further, as if to prove how awful this sensation of wanting can be. Regardless of your silent and occasionally verbal pleas, the lord of evil continues to smirk as they toy with your breasts, biting lightly at the underside, as if to say "Mine", and in a way, they are claiming you.
"That feels, good," you admit, running your hands through Lucifer's messy golden hair. You hope it's what they want to hear, what will convince them to hurry the process.
They hum in response dropping a few kisses in between your sternum. Their movements are slower now, methodical. They follow the slope of your stomach, gingerly kissing the soft indents of your ribs, the softness of your stomach, reveling in the pureness of your form. It's not enough, and the pulsing sensation that grows in your cunt feels terribly strong now, and you whimper wantonly as their mouth grows closer.
"Oh, so needy," they sneer. "How lovely,"
Lucifer gently pries your thighs opening, groaning lightly at the sight of your wet cunt, the proof of their persuasiveness. It's odd how they look at it, you don't see anything particularly intriguing with the unused organ, rather all of your torment seems to be linked to the spot, and you desperately wish it to end. Morningstar gently leans towards the mound of flesh and hair, blowing lightly, directly on your clit. The sensation is torturous, and you twitch and shake despairingly at the awfulness of the assault. They laugh in response, keeping your thighs spread, letting your most intimate areas remain open for the world to see.
"Please, please, I need it," you beg, unsure of what you desire so desperately.
"You do? How unfortunate," they drawl, blowing cool air on that sensitive bud once more.
You arch your back, digging your hands into the sheets. A hand comes from your hips to your stomach, shoving you back into the bed. The point is clear: Stay put.
Hands gently squeeze and caress your thighs and ass, a hot mouth suckling and biting at your inner thighs. You glance down to see the golden haired deity paying homage to the cradle of your sex, smirking in a most peculiar way as they get closer and closer to where you so desperately need them.
“If I gave in right away, it wouldn’t be as good,” Lucifer explains. “The more I rile you up, the better this will all be,”
Their explanation is perfectly efficient, but you find no comfort in you. The closer their mouth gets to your core, the closer their hot tongue inches toward that aching, needy place between your thighs, the worse it gets for you.
“Please,” you beg uselessly. “I want to feel what it’s like,”
Morningstar hums in response, rolling their eyes at you. By now their command is clear, you will be patient and you will be complicit to their pace. When their mouth finally rests atop your mind pubis, a trickle of wetness has run a path down from your opening to the lowest crevices of your genitals, and you feel your cunt pulse erratically.
“What a pretty little sight,” Lucifer sighs contentedly.
Making sinful eye-contact with you, they extend their tongue, running a strip up from your entrance to your clitoris, and the feeling is so hot, so consuming that you shriek in relief. Lucifer continues this motion a few more times, each stroke slower than the first.
“Please, please,” you beg, “I want it,”
“You want what?” they croon.
To put it into words feels too lecherous, and you plead with them through your eyes, imploring them to understand your desperation.
“I don’t know what you want until you tell me,” they smirk, playing dumb.
Taking a few shaky breaths, you open your mouth, visualizing the actions you wish them to take.
“I want your tongue,” you whisper.
“Where? How? In what ways?” Lucifer murmurs, resting their head on your thigh, toying with the tiny hairs there.
“I want it on my, my clitoris,” you blush, “I want it in a steady rhythm, but other than that I don’t know what will….” you trail off.
In truth you don’t know what will feel good, you haven’t experimented, not even a little bit.
“Oh little angel,” they purr, “If you want me to just take the lead all you had to do was ask,” they sigh, returning their mouth to your clit.
The pace they set is torturous, tongue drawing acutely decisive patterns over the tiny nub, causing all kinds of pleasurable sensations to erupt from your body. You feel a continuous clenching and releasing sensation in your lower abdomen, in your core, and it continues to build and broil, sustained by the soft hums and groans of Lucifer’s mouth into your clit.
“Oh my God,” you wail, the prayer decidedly unheard in this domain.
Lucifer detaches themselves from their clit, biting your inner thigh forcefully. The shock of the sudden movement causes you to squeal in pain, and you try to twist away from their movements.
“Never, ever, speak his name here,” Lucifer rasps, “You will only praise me, you will only beg me,”
Two fingers enter you forcefully, tearing the soft tissue of your hymen, effectively severing your virginal state. The action delivers two kinds of pain. The first is a searing agony that bleeds through your labia, hot and throbbing. The other torture stems in your soul, a certain blackness marring your sinless state.
“No!” you cry out.
You would be changed now, forever marked by the devil. It would not be noticed, not be detected by the other angels, but the Almighty? He would know.
The circumstances of your changed state and the pressing weight of pending damnation weigh on you, nearly swallowing you in fear and pain, but that pain is erased when a pair of hot, wet lips descend on your core.
The feeling is blissful in comparison to the sting of your labia, and you quickly descend into the feeling of pleasure once more, but a stone weighs on your chest, and in between your gasps and moans, a few tears fall from your cheeks.
“There, there,” Lucifer soothes between their movements, “It won’t be so bad, I promise you’ll like this,”
The two fingers that lie in your entrance slowly pump in and out, and the sensation stings and burns a little in contrast to the raging coil that contracts and releases in your lower abdomen. In between strokes, Lucifer gently croons and hums into your clit, freehand drawing circles on your hip.
Their fingers hit a particularly sweet spot in your core, and you buck into their face, gasping and groaning as that coil unexpectedly tightens, pulsing and growing like waves of an incoming tide. Between your fevered breaths and moans of bittersweet pleasure, Lucifer continues to burn holes into your body with their gaze, forcing you to acknowledge them and what they are doing to you.
“Lucifer,” you gasp, “This feels so good,”
They smirk into you, curving their fingers in and out of you in a strange fashion that pulls you closer to heaven; the heaven of the flesh. The coil in your abdomen, the tower of arousal and bliss topples over, and you feel waves of bliss hit you as you climax.
“Good angel, good job,” Lucifer preens, holding you in their arms as you descend from your high.
Their touch is almost comforting, the soft kisses on your collarbones and neck are almost affectionate.
“That wasn’t a fair bet,” you whimper, beginning to cry. “You took my virginity, I’m blemished in the eyes of the Lord,”
“No, no, no,” Lucifer chuckles. “You asked me to, you asked me to take control,”
You blink in confusion, running back the few exchanged words in the moments leading up to the tearing of your hymen, the penetration.
“I said I wanted your tongue, I didn’t say-”
“-You didn’t tell me no, you silence following my assertion to take the lead was your answer, and that answer was yes,” Lucifer wearily sighs.
It dawns on you, you’ve been damned, and as soon as you return to the Almighty it will become official. You are an angel only in title.
“I should have never come here,” you lament uselessly.
“Oh don’t play victim, you were following orders, and by disobeying then you would have been damned,” Lucifer wearily explains, rolling over to lay you in their chest.
You’re worthless now, you have no value, no prospects, absolutely nothing to look forward to. You’ll be doomed to walk the earth until you are summoned by God, and at that point you will be officially cast out from heaven, forced back into the arms of the person who had managed to woo you into defiance of the lord.
“I hate you,” you gasp.
Lucifer pauses, momentarily taken aback by the statement.
“Wrath?” they chuckle, “So soon too, oh my,” they sigh, toying with the rapidly darkening feathers of your wings.
“You are the second prettiest angel I’ve laid eyes upon,” they muse.
When you look up at them again, you don’t see a lie in their face, rather a simple contemplation of your positioning. Their face is soft and silky, skin smoother than that of a baby. Their lips are pursed in thought, begging to be kissed. You’re done asking for things from the devil, so when you kiss them, it’s not Lucifer who tastes of sin; it’s you.
A/N: Six weeks, a trip across an ocean to Uni and a dehabilitating sinus infection later…… I’m free to write my other fics!!!!!!
Tagging: @hecatescrystaldagger @the-fuck-do-i-know
#lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman smut#lucifer morningstar sandman#gwendolyn christie#gwendolyn christie x reader#smut#lesbian
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The Only one I'd ever Worship
Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader
first time writing for Lucifer, which has been sitting in my docs for 2 months (:
warnings: NSFW fingering, slight degrading/praise?, thigh riding, slight blasphemy?, etc // word count: 2507
The Lightbringer's hand tightened possessively around your waist, leaving the faint outline of a bruise in its wake — one you'd wear proudly for such devotion. A subtle reminder of who you belonged to, of who owned you, and it was a reminder that you welcomed greedily, relishing in the feeling of being theirs.
As they mindlessly traced patterns down your body, you couldn't help but shiver from the intimacy of their touch, the familiarity it felt to have their warm fingertips against your cool skin — fingertips molding against you like clay, leaving the faint tingling sensation that nipped at your flesh whenever they pulled away.
Allowing their touch to continue to roam, now crawling up your abdomen, nails scratching against the softness of your stomach, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in their wake that left you shivering. Lucifer's hands now cup your breasts, kneading and molding them to their touch, a low moan escaping from your lips as you pressed yourself closer to them; a silent plea for more.
As their thumbs traced slow, lazy circles over your hardening nipples, your breath caught in your throat. Trying to suppress any further noises, you tilted your head to the side, sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh of your bottom lip as they continued their torturous teasing.
"What's wrong, my lamb?" They'd coo in faux concern against one of your ears, letting their hot breath ghost down the side of your throat, leaving your skin prickled with goosebumps in its wake. The Devil knew exactly where and how to touch you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy, allowing you to feel Heaven's call to you with open arms, to welcome you back. . . only to hold you there, teasingly, never allowing you inside the gates of release until they deemed you worthy of such a feat.
Of course, they'd indulge in your pleasures from time to time, which was how you found yourself in your current predicament; Lucifer sat on their throne, the flickering flames that lined the hall giving them a false halo framed above their head, as you — their most prized possession, the sweetest angel so obediently eager to please your Lord — were perched on top of their lap, grinding your needy cunt against one of their thighs.
"Please," came your pleading voice, heavy with an insatiable thirst of desire, as your head fell backwards against their shoulder, fitting perfectly into the crook they so perfectly provided.
"Hm? Please what, my pretty pet?" they asked with a soft hum, amusement twinkling within their eyes as they peered down at you through long blonde lashes that wisped against the soft pinkness of their cheeks. Lucifer pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing your back against their chest. "Tell me what it is you desire, angel."
"Please, your Majesty," you'd beg once more, desperate for their touch and the release only they could provide you, that only they could give you. ". . need your touch." Your voice, so full of yearning and longing, so pathetic yet perfect to please your Devilish master with.
The Lightbringer chuckled darkly in a twisted mix of pleasure and power, reveling in how easily you fell into submission for them. They lifted a hand to the side of your face and traced the back of their knuckles down your cheek gently, before roughly gripping the sides of your chin and jerking your head back to meet their gaze. A quiet mewl drew from the depths of your throat at the action, leaving your clit throbbing as your hips continued to eagerly move against them, desperate to seek friction to relieve the ache.
"Look at you," Lucifer taunted, their gaze roaming down every inch of your covered form and back up again. As the Devil's arm unraveled their hold, their hand now found its way to your hip, guiding your movements back and forth into their lap at their own desired pace. "Spread apart for the Ruler of Hell," they sneered, "How desperate are you, silly angel? Such a pathetic pet, so willing to please your Lord."
The hand that was gripping your chin relinquished you, once again turning gentle as their fingertips slowly brush through your hair, tucking away any loose strands that were impending their access to your skin. "Does it feel good, you dirty little thing?" they whispered so softly, lips ghosting across the shell of your ear and moving to the newly exposed flesh of your throat. “To be the only one I’d ever worship?”
Lucifer's chest rumbled with a low growl as they scraped their sharp teeth against the pulse point, sinking into the flesh and sucking on it harshly. Marking you—Claiming you as theirs. Their perfect pet, such a desperate thing you were, weren't you? So pathetic that your hips rolled faster against their flexed thigh as you whimpered in response to their bite, a muffled 'God, yes' pulling from your throat in response to their question as you moaned. . .
. . . only to earn an amused huff from the Demon Lord as they pulled away, leaving behind a mark that they soothed with a soft and tender kiss. "God?" they repeated, the word dripping with bitterness as it rolled off their sharp tongue. "Aren't you just a good little angel, still having faith in Him.."
They leaned in close to your ear once more and whispered, "Tell me, my beautiful lamb. . Do you still pray to him while I play with your needy hole? Do you hope that He and your angel brethren watch as I make you cum over and over again on my just fingers alone?"
Your cheeks burned at the Devil's words, a mixture of shame and arousal washing over you while you squirmed in their lap, brows pinched together as you bit your bottom lip. There was certainly some truth to it, there was no denying that — just as there was no denying how depraved you felt at the thought of Him watching, to see just how low you've truly fallen for your lover. How your stomach fluttered at just the thought of riding their fingers, the walls of your cunt greedily pulsating around their lithe digits, wanting to milk the sensation as long as you could. .
..oh, patience is a virtue, little one. . .
But as the Lightbringer continues to tease you, their touch lowering to the bottom of that pristine white toga adorned on your body, grasping at the hem and gently pulling it up to bunch at your waist, all rational thoughts fled from your mind. All you could think of was them. Their touch, taste, smell — oh, it drove you mad with lust and desire. The throbbing heat between your plush thighs grew, and you were sure, no, absolutely positive, that your underwear was entirely ruined.
Thinking you've had enough of the torture for now... Lucifer's hands slowly trailed back up your body until they reached your chest once more, squeezing your breasts through the thin silk fabrics that covered them. "Such a sensitive little thing," they cooed, pinching and rolling your nipples between their thumb and forefingers for a moment before releasing. Sliding back down your stomach, their hands then move your legs further apart, nails scratching against the material of your panties before sliding beneath it and through the soft curls of your mound until finally reaching your wet slit.
"Oh, my poor pet," Lucifer purred in delight, enjoying the way you trembled against their touch, causing their leather wings to twitch and flutter proudly behind them on their throne, "you're soaked."
Two fingers swipe between your folds, pulling away just before reaching your swollen clit. As you whined in displeasure, earning a tut from the Devil, they brought their hand up to inspect their fingers — your arousal webbed in between, glistening.They turned to face you, bringing their hand closer to your lips.
"Open your mouth."
Your mouth instantly falls open before the two digits now pressed against the velvety texture of your tongue, slowly curling downwards. Without needing further instructions, you happily wrapped your lips around the entirety of them and sucked the tangy taste of yourself off of them, tongue swirling around.
And if you were to peer up at your lover, you'd find the Devil watching eagerly with darkened eyes, a slight twitching just beneath the scar of their lip as a rumbling growl escaped from in between them. They slowly pulled back after a moment, a web of your spit connected from their flesh and your lips, more than satisfied with your obedient nature, now wiping the back of their fingers across your face to rid of your saliva before moving to your clothing.
"I want you to watch, sweet one.." their voice husked against your ear, the darkness of their gaze lowering to your chest as careful hands remove the straps of your toga and unfasten the golden belt, allowing it to cascade down your form like water to gather into a pile of silks on the ground. "..the way I touch my beloved pet." Two long fingers hook around the band of your panties and pull them down with ease, exposing your already pulsating cunt to the warmth of the Underworld's air.
Your hips bucked against the palm of their hand as it returned to your heat, the palm pressed deliciously against your clit as their slender digits spread apart your folds, tracing the tips of their fingers around your entrance and a pathetic whine escaping from your throat that left the Lightbringer chuckling.
"I love to hear how desperate my little lamb gets for my touch," they coo in the sickly sweet voice that leaves your face warm and a hue of pink blooming across the apples of your cheeks. "Look at how wet you are for me, I've hardly touched you." The Devil spoke so softly against your ear, pressing lazy kisses against the shell of it as they dipped the entirety of their fingers into you with ease, growling as they felt your walls fluttering around them.
"I could spend eternity between these legs, my darling girl.."
Lucifer's other hand reached up to return to playing with your nipples, rolling the taut buds before giving them a sharp pinch. Their name spilled from your lips as they began to move their fingers in and out, curling it into the spongy sweet spot that left you growing wetter — the sopping wet noises from between your thighs only spurred your Devil further, their pace growing a bit faster while their thumb stretched out to rub tight circles to your clit.
The way they toyed with you only made you more desperate to chase the taste of release, and -you ever so obediently- spread your legs as wide as you could for them. Lucifer purred in delight as they whispered soft nothings into your ear, once or twice pulling their fingers out of you entirely to deliver a quick slap! to your cunt before returning their fingers to where they belonged with a newfound vigor.
“Such a beautiful sight.”
“You take it so well. . Like you were created just for me.”
“Who does this belong to?”
“That’s right. Mine.”
The fire in your body grew as Lucifer's fingers thrust in and out of you with ease, dripping desperately down the length of their fingers and your own thighs. Every touch, every whispered word, sent jolts through your body, building the already growing desire to cum for them higher and higher; always pushing you to the edge before pulling away when you spasmed too much, giving you a minute to cool down before returning right back to relentlessly tormenting the aching Heaven between your thighs. They'd chuckle at each of your mumbled words of protests, only to shut you up by returning to rub against your swollen clit.
"Luci-oh! Please. . ple- please," your poor little mind was too lost in your daze to form a coherent thought, eyes clouded over by a fog of pure pleasure as you mindlessly babbled. "Let me cum, please- please, my Lord." Your body - hell, your entire soul - sang with desire for them to the point it was almost overwhelming, tears building up in your eyes as they oh so cruelly denied such a blissful state to flood you. .
Lucifer could only chuckle, feeling their lips curling into a smirk at the sight of you, quivering and clenching around them. The hand that had been playing with your breasts slid up to gently wrap their fingers around your throat, applying just enough pressure to silently bring your attention to them. "Such a needy thing, aren't you?" they spoke gently, leaning in close so their hot breath fanned across the side of your face. Another squeeze, though slightly tighter, as if demanding a response.
"Yes.. my- my Lord," you somehow managed to form out through the tightness in your throat. "Please.. ah- let me cum," you continued to beg, unable to take the edging much longer.
"Cum for me," Lucifer spoke through ragged breath. "Show me just how much you need me." And with those words, their hand loosened from your throat and held your hip instead, leaving an indent to the flesh, as their fingers grew into a relentless pace. Your body writhed against them, arching off from their chest as your mouth fell open, the most unforgiving of obscenities spewing from your tongue as you grind harder against their hand.
With one final curl to their fingers that hit the most delectable spot, your orgasm crashed over you. Your entire body shook and trembled as you tightened around them, the Devil slowing their pace to allow you to ride your high, as every nerve grew hot with pleasure until you were nothing but a quivering mess in their arms.
Your legs — still twitching and now aching from the prolonged position, covered in a light blanket of perspiration — fell limp against Lucifer, dangling over the length of their legs and you collapsed back into them. Carefully their fingers withdrew from your slick heat once your breathing evened out, licking their fingers clean before wrapping a wing around you to keep you close. Reassuring praise and hums left their lips as they kissed and pecked at your cheek and down to your shoulder.
"Sh, shh, my darling," Lucifer cooed, gazing down at you with a soft smile as they took in your tired expression. "Such a good girl for me, weren't you? Hm?" You could feel their warm lips against your skin, both soothing and comforting, as you gave a quiet hum in response while you basked in the afterglow from your climax.
As your head rested against their chest, feeling the steady beating of their heart beneath your ear, they continued to hold you; slowly running their fingers through your hair, the sensation making your eyes grow heavier until inevitably falling shut. They'd hold you like this until you woke, only to repeat it all over again for the rest of eternity.
. . though who would complain?
─────⋅⋆.‧₊☆₊‧.⋅⋆─────────⋅⋆.‧₊☽₊‧.⋅⋆─────────⋅⋆.‧₊☆₊‧.⋅⋆─────
this is sick and i need to be put down. immediately. sorry this is horrible it's been a while. you can tell where i got burnt out at the end lol.
#lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar x reader#the sandman lucifer#the sandman lucifer smut#sandman lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar the sandman#gwendoline christie#gwendolinechristie#theswordmaiden
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belong (nsfw)
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Sumarry: Lucifer is always so very gentle with you.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
A/N: Inspired by this fic, but I made it dark. Sorry?
TW: non-con
TAGS: #bathtub sex #aftercare #implied sexual content #non-explicit sex #post-coital cuddling #implied/referenced dubious consent #soul selling #pondering the nature of free will and soul contracts #sort of psychological thriller vibes but not really #dubious consent #deal with a devil #love bites #implied rough sex #light praise kink
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
taglist: @opheliauniverse @zephyr-is-tired @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz @milfsloverblog
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Sprawled against the Devil’s chest in a grand bathtub next to the fireplace, you don’t think it can get better than this. Their soft breasts pressed against your back, their nimble fingers tracing patterns on your chest and stomach, their warm breath on your neck. Their soft lips on the sensitive skin of your jaw, their hair tickling you, their touch gentle and caring. It’s all like a dream. The softest, sweetest, most wonderful dream — the kind that you have right before you ought to wake up.
Ah, it’s just what your sore and aching body needs.
The water is hot, and yet your lover’s touch makes you shiver. Gooseflesh appears on your skin. You wince when they caress a dark bruise their teeth left on your breast.
“Aren’t you a sensitive little thing,” they say, and the low rumble next to your ear causes another shiver to run down your spine. Their voice is lilting and melodious — sweet and delicious and oozing like caramel. Just for that voice alone, you’d do anything.
Anything is a dangerous promise.
They kiss the painful, throbbing love-bite on your neck. A sharp gasp escapes you.
“Tell me, have I been too rough with you? I forget how… fragile mortals can be.”
They’ve been less than gentle with you, that much is true. And yet, you can’t find it in yourself to mind. The pain brought with it indescribable pleasure. It left you aching and sensitive and marked with bruises, but pleasurably spent. However, you’re content to be pampered with gentle touch and a hot bath with fragrant oils and salts — you don’t think you could take anything more than utmost tenderness right now.
“You haven’t,” you say, and they chuckle into your ear — a low, deep sound, a puff of air against your earlobe.
“Liar,” they whisper into your ear. You can feel them smile against it. “Don’t worry, my sweet lamb. I intend to be nothing but gentle with you now that I’ve had my fun.”
Their warm breath on your ear has an intoxicating effect on you. You close your eyes and smile stupidly, leaning into them as much as you can, wanting to be as close to them as possible.
“Sweet thing,” they say and run their hand down your torso, down, down until they reach between your legs. You wince when they touch the bruised and abused bundle of nerves nestled between your lower lips. It’s painful, rather than pleasurable.
“Lucifer,” you say softly, and they make a little circle with their fingers. Your abdominal muscles convulse and you hiss. “Please, I can’t take it.”
“No?” they ask softly and plant a kiss on your neck. “But I am being so very gentle.”
They gently flick their fingers over the little bud and you buck your hips involuntarily. You try to move away from the painful touch, but there is nowhere to go. You are engulfed by their much larger body, by their gentle, but unrelenting hands. “Please,” you breathe, “I can’t.”
“The human body is wondrous thing. It entertains me greatly to see how much my touch affects you,” they say almost conversationally. They rub gentle circles, but even the lightest pressure makes you cry out in pain. However, hidden somewhere beneath the pain, distant pleasure starts to build. It grows in your lower belly, warm and steady.
Belonging to the Devil isn’t something one should take lightly.
“Sweet, sweet lamb — how you amuse me. It feels good, doesn’t it?” they whisper softly, their voice a soothing lullaby in your ear. “Tell me, do you wish me to stop?”
You open your mouth to say yes, but words evade you. “I can’t,” you say instead.
“Of course you can,” they say, saccharine sweet. “Do you want me to show you?”
No, you want to say, but the words don’t come. “It hurts,” you whine.
You’re hot — aching and throbbing, your lungs full of steam rising from the bath, hyperaware of their body pressing into your own, of their breath on your ear. They are inexorable, rubbing gentle circles, making you pant and whimper. The once distant pleasure emerges through the pain, stronger, clearer than before.
“Poor thing,” they coo, sugary sweet. “So sensitive, and yet doing so well for me. So obedient. Such a good girl.”
Their voice renders you dizzy and confused. What is it you wanted to say?
“Do you want me to stop?” they ask again and press harder. You cry out. They laugh into your neck — a warm gush of air and a sound of angel-bells ringing.
Stop, yes, stop — that’s what you wanted to say — but they rub harder and faster and then overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure washes over you. The intensity of it crashes and then ebbs and flows like a wave. You’re distantly aware of your own cries and the Devil’s soft words.
“See, my sweet dove? You can.”
But I didn’t want to, you think — a distant, hazy thought, something you can almost grasp.
They whisper soft words of encouragement into your ear, and their voice ebbs and flows not unlike the pleasure in your belly. You convulse and ache and grip their arm, and they shush you, hold you, and caress you.
It takes a while before the pain and the pleasure subside. You’re sore and achey and spent — even more so than before. You didn’t think it possible.
“I…” you try to speak.
“You…?” they mock you sweetly.
“I didn’t…”
“Didn’t you?,” they say, smiling into your neck. You can feel the sharpness of their teeth against your skin.
I didn’t, you want to say, but you aren’t so sure anymore. A pleasant, blissful sleepiness weighs on your limbs like a heavy cloak. You drift in and out of sleep as the Devil gently cleans your sweaty skin, rubs your scalp, washes your hair and peppers soft kisses over your abused body. Tender, beautiful aftercare — exactly what you need — and oh, they do it so lovingly.
It isn’t until you’re dried off and carefully carried and laid upon the bed — on the most exquisite and decadent silken sheets — that you find it in yourself to speak. You’re sleepy, so terribly sleepy, and yet you manage to ask what’s been on your mind for some time now.
“Lucifer…” you manage to utter, softly and quietly.
“Yes?” they ask as they settle next to you, pulling you close, wrapping their arms around your waist. They bury their nose into your hair and inhale deeply.
“Do I… have agency? Now, after the…”
They wrap a wing around you, shielding you and covering you as if with a blanket. “Of course you do. You can have anything you desire.”
They’re right — you do get everything you desire. And yet, what agency does someone — something — that belongs have? Is a plaything allowed to desire? And if it is, do they just end up desiring what their Master wants?
“Really?” you murmur. Your eyelids are heavy with sleep. A wonderful, warm feeling, and yet there is something underneath it. You can almost remember what it is.
“Name it and it is yours, little lamb.”
Yes, yes, it is true, you think as you snuggle closer to them. They’re warm and they smell like burning wood — comforting, like a fire that chases away the winter cold that wants to settle in one’s very bones. It’s true, you think — they always ask what you want.
It’s just that you always seem to want exactly what they do.
You want to ask something else, but it escapes you. Something on the tip of your tongue you can’t quite grasp. A question, a flickering light you can’t quite catch.
You sigh softly and drift into sleep — warm and safe in Lucifer’s embrace. Who knows, maybe if you stayed awake just a tad longer, you’d have remembered what you wanted to ask.
Indeed — selling one's soul to the Devil isn’t something one should take lightly.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
#lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer x reader#lucifer sandman#lucifer smut#sandman lucifer#the sandman 2022#gwendoline christie#i will write my own garbage and also consume it
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Aftercare (lightly NSFW)
Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
Lucifer seems to be gaining feelings for a little human who was once just a toy.
Author’s Note: Just a random snippet of soft Luci <3
Getting you up to Lucifer’s chambers was an easy process as the angel swept you off your feet once they had finished with you. Your body was covered in love bites from your evening of love making. The Morningstar had challenged you to a new level of heightened pleasure that now left you unable to move.
When you were helped onto Lucifer’s bed, you trembled as you forced your legs open for the Lightbringer. The blonde chuckled in response, shaking their head as they had no interest in forcing you through any additional orgasms. With a large, firm hand, Lucifer gripped your thigh and pressed it to the other, “No more tonight, dearest. You and I are going to explore aftercare. Have you ever done that before?”
You shook your head, your body releasing its tension at the notion of being done for the night. “No…”
“First, we will get you cleaned up. Can you stand well enough for a shower, my darling? I will get you all washed up.”
With a quiet nod, you crawled to the edge of the bed and stood on wobbly legs. Lucifer met you and wrapped an arm around your back and another under your legs to lift you from the bed. They carried you to their washroom, turning on the shower once you entered.
They wanted the water nice and hot to relax your body. While it heated up, they pushed you against the bathroom sink to press soft kisses against your face and neck. Lucifer’s taller form pressed against yours, your face level with their breasts. Their hands wandered around your body, not squeezing or groping as they had been merely an hour earlier, but softly admiring every bit of your form.
“Did I go too rough, little angel?”
You shook your head ‘no’ even when the answer was ‘yes’, not wanting Lucifer to think you couldn’t handle more the next time around. You would do anything to please the fallen angel.
The Morningstar pressed a final kiss to your forehead and guided you to the shower. They took to scrubbing your body, smirking as they gazed upon the marks they left behind. “Look at these marks… A work of art.”
You smiled fondly at the possessiveness, your arms winding around their frame to hold them close. Lucifer’s hands traveled between your legs, gently cleaning you and trying to avoid irritating the spots sore from fucking. “I would like you to accompany me to my meetings tomorrow…”
You whimper as the blonde’s fingers push too hard against your clit, the sensation more pain than pleasure, “Really?”
“Yes, kitten… I want you there with me.” There was no hiding the obvious twinge of pride in Lucifer’s tone.
The Morningstar slipped around to your backside, hands continuing to caress your tummy and thighs. They guided you out of the path of the water and began washing your hair, earning a high pitched hum of appreciation from you. Their words just above a whisper when they began rinsing the shampoo out, “But you don’t have to. As much as I enjoy you being at my side, you are not obligated, darling. I just want you to be happy.”
“Making you happy, makes me happy.” You said simply, turning around in their arms and nuzzling into their chest.
Lucifer chuckled at the sentiment and added conditioner to their hands, combing it through your hair. “You already do by being with me. Now, be a good pet and rinse your hair. I need to finish my own shower.”
You remained quiet, moving to do as you were told.
Lucifer washed up their own body, their eyes drifting to you every few seconds to check on you. They adored you and the love you had for them. With each day the two spent together, the Morningstar felt themself only growing more possessive and protective over you. It was becoming hard to spend time without you near.
After their shower, Lucifer took their time drying off your body, shifting to sit on the edge of the bathtub and draw you to stand before them. They pressed kisses to your chest and abdomen and smiled up at you fondly, “I want you to rest well tonight. I can’t have my darling hurting.”
You smiled softly at the care Lucifer showed you, your hands teasing at their blonde locks to show them your own affection. “Can we watch a movie tomorrow? After you finish your meetings…”
“Of course, dearest. You know I love your human films. Now get your pajamas on.”
You were the one to press a kiss to the Morningstar’s lips before hobbling off to the room you had begun sharing. The blonde proceeded with their nighttime routine and adjourned to the bedroom just in time to see you crawling into bed. The sight brought a smile to the Lightbringer’s face, and they felt grateful they were going to be crawling into bed with you.
After turning out the lights, Lucifer climbed into bed after you, weaving an arm around your waist and drawing you in to snuggle. With their hands on either side of your face, the Morningstar encouraged you to rest your face between the blonde breasts. They began stroking your locks, “Did you have fun tonight, my child?”
“Mhm. I liked riding you… You looked so powerful…” You closed your eyes and wistfully pictured yourself n reverse cowgirl, getting fucked nice and hard by the strap they had attached to their form. They had been absolutely delighted with the sight of you unraveling before them.
“Mmm… We may need to try it again, only next time I will ride you? Then you can be the one to make me moan.”
You giggled at the thought, snuggling closer. Your hands wandered inside their robe and around Lucifer’s waist to dance across their back.
“Now it’s time for bed. Please wake me if you need anything.” Lucifer slowly closed their eyes, adjusting their position to rest their chin on the top of your head. With two deep breaths, the angel began to give way to the sweet temptation of sleep.
“I… love you….” You murmured, not considering the consequences of sharing these never before spoken words.
Lucifer seemed stunned, taken aback even. They paused for a pregnant moment, never considering before how they could be loved by another. The silence made you feel sick, but you had no regrets in sharing your feelings. Only if you could have seen the way Lucifer stared at you through the darkness. A gazed filled with more love and admiration than even the Morningstar thought they were capable of.
“I love you as well. Now please try and sleep, dearest lamb.”
Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @opheliauniverse, @enchantressb, @renravens, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @scream-queenlover, @shyladyfan, @rubberduckiesbathing, @peanutbutterprincess, @larissaoftarthweems, @lvinhs, @myzzjolanda, @principal-weems09, @imlike-so-gaydude, @emilynissangtr, @xuukoo, @brienneswife, @dumbasslesbi, @oculusalien, @sweetderacine, @giogwensversion, @milciak, @gela123, @thevillagegay, @katiemcgrathsbitch1, @naomi-m3ndez, @mysaviorfalsegod, @salems-spaghettios, @imgayforwoman69, @bychrissi, @h-doodles, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic
#lucifer morningstar (sandman) x reader#gwendoline christie#fanfic#lucifer morningstar (sandman)#the sandman#gwen christie#aftercare#fluff
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Lucifer, walking towards y/n very fast (too graceful to run): “Angel, darling, my love, my heart- there’s a spider in the room-“
Y/n, confused: “okay.. what do you want me to do?”
Lucifer, now hyperventilating: “KILL IT!? I’m sorry I’m sorry. Kill it, please. Get rid of that thing.”
Y/n, holding back their laughter: “you’re the literal devil.. and you’re scared of a spider?”
Lucifer, about to cry: “JUST KILL IT. YOU CAN BULLY ME LATER.”
This series was inspired by a conversation with my dear friend @v3nusxsky so props to her for inspiring the spider trilogy!
#random littledollll#spider trilogy#lucifer sandman#gwendoline christie#the sandman#sandman lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar the sandman
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Respite in Heaven (NSFW)
Pre-fall!Lucifer x angel!reader
A/N: This fic was inspired by another one of my favourite Ghost song which you can listen to here (the very last part is a work of art). I love Lucifer. I love to think that they had an Angel lover back in Heaven. And I love to think that the only reason they still dream of Heaven is for that lost love. Anyway, enjoy! <3 ps: it’s more like pre-fall, mid-fall and post-fall Lucifer.
AO3 link in title
“We shouldn’t be here!” You half-whispered half-giggled as Lucifer dragged you through the tall grass.
“Says who?” The Lightbringer answered without ever turning around, their hand tightly holding onto yours.
“You know who!” You said as you reached your favourite spot under the pomegranate tree.
“I do not care what God thinks, not when I have the sweetest of all angels in my arms.” Lucifer smiled as they helped you sit down by the tree and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.
“You should not be saying these things,” You whispered, knowing He had ears everywhere. “Nothing escapes Him, you ought to be more careful.”
“I would say it to His face if it meant you and I wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”
“I know, Lucifer, I know.” You pushed a soft smile, brushing your fingers through their messy white curls.
Lucifer closed their eyes, revelling in the softness of your touch for a moment before eventually pulling you on their lap. One of their hands snaked under your white linen dress, slender fingers running up the expanse of your thigh.
The way your brows furrowed didn’t go unnoticed by the Lightbringer and they tutted lightly.
“Something is worrying you,” They said, their fingertips reaching the apex of your thigh and grazing against your bare core. “Talk to me, my Angel.”
You knew you weren’t their Angel, and you would never be. You belonged to God, and so did they. But you wanted to, you wished to be theirs so badly. And that’s exactly what you were worried about.
“We could break away together.” Lucifer whispered in your ear, two of their fingers slipping between your folds.
You couldn’t help the moan that tore itself from your throat, your hips bucking as you searched for more friction.
“I would be the shadow,” They went on, dipping their first knuckles into your wetness before lazily drawing circles on your clit. “And you will be the light.”
And it was oh-so tempting, to give up on everything you had and everything you knew, only to run away with Lucifer. But you could never, no matter how good they made you feel and how strongly your heart beat for them.
“W-we can’t-“ You closed your eyes, your head growing dizzy as the Angel continued their ministrations between your legs. You moaned again, quickly hiding your face in Lucifer’s neck to keep yourself quiet.
Lucifer wrapped their pristine white wings around you, shielding you from the outside world.
It was no secret that the Lightbringer was God’s favourite Angel. And it couldn’t have been made more obvious, you simply had to look at how beautiful God had made them. They were the tallest Angel in all of Heaven, had the whitest and largest wings, and the softest features in the whole realm. And somehow, you had been lucky enough to catch their eye.
“Are you not happy here?” You asked, carefully pulling away from them. “Don’t we have all we need? All we want?”
“I don’t know, do we?” Lucifer cocked their head, pushing their fingers inside you up to the hilt.
You let out a pitiful strangled cry that had your lover’s lips pull in a proud smile.
“Nothing ever lasts forever, my Angel.” The Lightbringer whispered before attaching their lips to your neck and sucking on your pulse point, their fingers dragging in and out of your heat in loud, wet, and you dared to think, sinful sounds.
“We-I-can’t, I can’t-“ You were too far gone to even think of anything else but the pleasure building behind the navel that you didn’t possess. “God will be furious.”
“Don’t you see, sweet Angel?” You swore Lucifer’s voice was now tainted with bitterness. “That the God we hail is nothing but the Wizard of Oz?!”
You didn’t know what that meant, or who the Wizard of Oz was, but that was the last of your concerns at the time.
“Please, Luci-“ You whined, your hips moving on their own accord to meet the Angel’s thrusts.
“We will break away together,” Lucifer repeated, curling their fingers inside you and quickly finding your sweet spot to rub. “Say yes to me.”
“Y-Yes!” You cried out when the coil finally snapped inside your belly, making you see stars as you mindlessly swore allegiance to the Morningstar.
“Good,” Lucifer whispered barely audibly as they helped you ride your orgasm. “We will go softly into the night.”
Your head fell forward, forehead pressed against the other angel’s alabaster skin. You weren’t sure, but you swore you could hear distant thunder then. Whether it came from the outside world or from within Lucifer’s chest still remains a mystery.
-
Only you were right when you said Lucifer ought to be careful with their words, for God had ears everywhere. There they stood a day later, God and Lucifer, facing the entirety of the realm on top of the holy mountain.
“You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you.” Your creator’s voice echoed through heaven. “Through your widespread trade, you were filled with violence, and you sinned. And so you shall be driven in disgrace from Heaven. I expel you, guardian cherub, from the Holy mountain. Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor.”
You could feel your heart thumping loudly against your ribcage as you realised what was about to happen. Lucifer, however, never wavered. They kept their chin high and looked right into their creator’s eyes as they spoke.
“You shall be thrown to the earth, a spectacle of you will be made before kings. By your many sins and dishonest trade, you have desecrated your sanctuaries. May a fire come out from you, may it consume you and reduce you to ashes on the ground in the sight of all who are watching.” God added, slightly turning to address the crowd of angels. “Shall any of you be sharing Lucifer’s deviancy, speak now.”
You didn’t even think twice before moving to take a step forward when Lucifer’s head suddenly snapped towards you.
“No.” They answered, and you knew it was said to you more than to God. You exchanged a look with the Morningstar, your head shaking from side to side as if to convince them to come clean and beg for forgiveness. But Lucifer only smiled and turned back to face their creator. “No, it is just me.”
“So be it.” God nodded and with a single wave of His hand, Lucifer was sent tumbling from the edge of the Holy mountain.
“No!” You whispered in horror and made to run towards the edge only to be held back by small cherubim hands.
The silence was deafening as the angels mourned the loss of one of their own, each wondering who would be next to suffer this fate.
You didn’t know how long you had stayed there, kneeling by the edge of the mountain and waiting, hoping that Lucifer would find a way to climb their way back up. But they never did. And you had eventually stopped hoping.
—
"What power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream…of Heaven?" Lucifer’s eyes filled with tears, their lips slightly quivering before their mask fell back into place. Morpheus had struck a nerve and he knew it all too well.
“One day, Morpheus, we shall destroy you.” The Lightbringer promised. But not today. No, not today for Lucifer wasn’t ready to part with their dreams.
And so, as always since centuries, that night somewhere in Hell, the Devil dreams of an Angel. And as always, somewhere in Heaven, an Angel dreams of the Devil.
————————————————————————
tag list: @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @pro-weems-places @readingtheentrails @catechristiesstuff @kimiinou
#lucifer morningstar#lucifer the sandman#lucifer Morningstar x reader#Gwendoline Christie#the sandman#lucifer sandman#lucifer sandman x reader#no beta we die like larissa#no I won’t ever stop writing song fics#I kinda feel for lucifer#kinda relate too#larissa weems x reader
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Dreaming of heaven
#it’s between my legs babe#jk….unless#been reading a lot of luc smut#wing thing is so hot#on a drawing streak#while I ignore actual work#lucifer morningstar#gwendoline christie#gwendolineuniverse#lucifer netflix#lucifer x reader#the sandman
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Morpheus telling Lucienne about the problems he has been through:
#dream of the endless fluff#morpheus x reader#the sandman#the sandman fanfic#lord morpheus#the sandman x you#dream of the endless x reader#morpheus fluff#morpheus x leitora#dream of the endless smut#the corinthian#lucienne the librarian#lucifer morningstar#alex burgess#desire of the endless#the sandman headcanons#the sandman imagine#the sandman art#the sandman memes#neil gaiman
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heaven in your touch
Lucifer x fallen angel!reader
A last little Kinktober gift ❤️🔥 Happy Halloween! 👻
Words: ~2.9k
Content/warnings: light angst in the beginning, nsfw (smut - minors DNI) - The Wing Thing™️, thigh riding, face sitting
A/N: @dovesintherain said I should write a Lucifer fic so :) here ya go guys :) hope it's alright!!
“Your Majesty?”
Standing in the doorway to Lucifer’s chambers, your voice is barely above a whisper - and yet it echoes throughout the room, bouncing off the walls before fading into a tense silence. The lightbringer sits at the edge of the massive bed at the center of the room with their back to you - their wings twitch at the sound of your voice. After a long sigh, they turn their head to the side.
“Come in.”
You step fully into the room, closing the door softly behind you and taking quick, quiet steps towards the bed, the black marble floor cold and smooth beneath your bare feet. Coming to a stop directly in front of Lucifer, you bow your head - you can feel their eyes boring into you, can sense their cursory glance of your form, and it makes your entire body prickle like a live wire. Even seated they’re taller than you - you feel small and intimidated.
“Mazikeen has sent someone new,” they remark, and your cheeks begin to burn. You open your mouth, then close it again, unsure whether or not they are expecting you to speak.
“Well, little angel?”
Your gaze snaps up to meet Lucifer’s - cerulean eyes dance with amusement at the surprise written across your face. Swallowing hard, your words come out barely above a whisper. “H-how did you know?” Your voice wavers, catching in your throat, and Lucifer chuckles.
They raise an eyebrow and tilt their head, their gaze once again sweeping your body - you shiver in response. “Tell me, how did you fall? What did a meek little thing like you do to incur the wrath of God?” Their voice is low and measured, causing goosebumps to rise all over your skin.
Your eyes flutter shut as a heavy silence falls over the room. It’s clear that Lucifer requires an answer but you struggle to get the words out as your throat constricts and your stomach begins to churn. The silence rings out in the large room, almost deafening.
“Well?”
“I-” Tears prick at your eyes - your fall was recent, and you’re still struggling immensely coming to terms with it. “I took a lover.”
Hearing Lucifer let out a breath, you open your eyes to see them peering down at you through hooded eyes, pale pink lips curling into a devilish smirk.
“Did you now?”
You nod slowly, your entire body prickling with the heat of embarrassment as the lightbringer’s gaze rakes up your form, much slower than the last time - they linger at your clothed pelvis, the swell of your breasts, your lips, your flushed cheeks. “Are you embarrassed, little angel?”
You nod again - your heart is beginning to pound harder and harder the longer you’re standing under Lucifer’s scrutinizing gaze. You can feel its pump in your throat, can hear the blood rushing through your body like a whirring in your ears.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed with me,” they coo, their voice gentle and teasing. “I understand, after all.” Their wings flex behind them, catching your eye - it mesmerizes you and your eyes travel over the long, black tendons, the leathery expanse of flesh, the razor sharp talons. When your gaze lands back on Lucifer’s face, you notice them watching you, their expression unreadable.
“I-I’m sorry, your Majesty. I shouldn’t…” They tilt their head and you pause for a moment as the air threatens to leave your lungs. “I was sent to help you dress. I shouldn’t burden you with my sins.”
Lucifer smirks, a mischievous glint in their eyes. They stand, towering over you at their full height. It should scare you - they are the Devil, after all; they should strike fear into your heart, their close proximity should intimidate you. But, instead, you feel a familiar tingling in the pit of your stomach, a slow, building ache between your thighs as you crane your neck back to meet Lucifer’s gaze - intense, burning, all-consuming. You feel a pull towards them, one that you are well-acquainted with - one that, in your previous life, had been your downfall, and you swallow hard.
“Well, then. Let’s not waste any more time,” they say airily, raising an eyebrow.
Swallowing thickly, your gaze drops to Lucifer’s waist, to the tie of their robe. Your fingertips graze the red silk - it’s softer than anything you’ve ever felt. You get to work, carefully undoing the tie and allowing the robe to fall open. Your eyelids flutter and your mouth goes dry as their bare flesh is slowly revealed to you - pale, smooth. Drinking them in, your eyes travel over the soft expanse of their stomach, up the valley between small, perfectly round breasts.
They shift slightly and the robe falls open even further, and you notice that they aren’t wearing anything at all underneath - your eyes dart to their venus mound, to the little patch of curls there, before you quickly look away, your cheeks scarlet.
Lucifer tuts. “What’s the matter?”
“N-nothing,” you stammer, raising your hands to pull the robe the rest of the way off Lucifer’s body - your hands tremble as they reach up to Lucifer’s shoulders, guiding the garment slowly down their arms until it flutters to a heap at their feet.
Lucifer regards you carefully, taking note of your blush and your trembling. “Do you desire me?” they husk, and for a moment your lungs cease to function, your heart standing still. You chance a glance at their face, surprised by the way their pupils have dilated and their cheeks have flushed. Their lips part ever so slightly and their tongue darts out to wet them - they notice you staring and smirk down at you.
You start to shake your head vigorously. “I-”
“Don’t even think of lying to me, little angel.”
“I… Yes, y-your Majesty.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes - I desire you.” You hold your breath, bracing for Lucifer’s wrath. Instead, the outer corners of their lips curl upwards and they take a step closer to you - they’re flush against you now, and you can feel their body heat radiating off of them in waves. Only the thin layer of your own clothing separates you from feeling their bare skin brush against yours.
“There’s no need to be ashamed of your desire. You will face no punishment from God in Hell.” A warm hand cups your cheek, urging you to meet their gaze. You do, and the unfettered lust you see written across Lucifer’s face draws a whimper from your throat as your pussy begins to throb.
Their hand slides from your cheek to your chin, long, slender fingers taking a firm hold of it. “Well, my little lamb - are you going to take what you desire?”
Your eyes widen - you’ve never indulged in your desires in the light of day, never given into your urges so openly - and with the Devil themselves, no less. Is it a trick? Will there be repercussions? Your fingers twitch at your side - Lucifer notices and grins wickedly.
“Go on,” they purr.
After another moment’s hesitation, you reach out and place your hands lightly on Lucifer’s waist. It’s no longer the robe that is the softest thing you’ve ever felt - it’s them, their skin: warm and smooth underneath your palms. Your hands burn where your skin meets their own, and you notice the way they lean subtly into your touch.
A heavy silence hangs over the room and time seems to stand still as you deliberate your next move. Hesitantly, you lean forward and place a tender kiss to the hollow of Lucifer’s throat - your lips tingle where they meet soft flesh, and as you linger you can feel the movement of their chest as they breathe.
Your lips trail down their sternum - softly, reverently - reaching the valley between their breasts before traveling to their right breast. Pausing, you look up through your lashes to see Lucifer watching you, eyes sparkling with amusement, lips quirked into a soft smile.
Feeling encouraged, you wrap your lips around their nipple and suck gently - Lucifer sucks in a sharp breath as your warm tongue flicks over the small bud, and you let out a contented moan. Your grip on their waist tightens and you pull them closer, eagerly swirling your tongue around their nipple, alternating between each of their supple breasts. Their hand rests on the back of your head, holding you in place - the way that their fingers twist themselves in the strands of your hair emboldens you, and you graze your teeth across the pert bud.
Lucifer hums, their fingers tightening in your hair, and you bite down - they hiss, yanking your head sharply back by the hair.
You raise your eyes to see Lucifer glaring down at you, their lip twitching - your heartbeat stutters in your chest and you feel your blood go cold as dread floods your system. You’ve taken it too far and now-
Lucifer’s lips crash into your own, demanding and… desperate? Their tongue invades your mouth and they groan - it’s as if they’re trying to consume you entirely. You can feel their hands come to rest on your waist, roughly spinning you around, pushing you back onto the bed. The mattress is soft beneath your back, but not as soft as Lucifer’s lips as they move against your own. Their tongue explores the cavern of your mouth, licking eagerly against yours and drawing soft noises of pleasure from your chest as you lose yourself in the dizzying sensation.
You feel a hand push between your bodies, and then Lucifer’s nimble fingers are undoing your robes and shoving them roughly off your shoulders. They press their body into your own - their skin burning hot where it meets yours, and you think you might faint as you feel them start to rub themselves against you, the intensity of their kiss growing by the minute.
They shift subtly on top of you so that your thigh is between theirs, and you gasp as you feel how wet they are. As they begin to rut against you in earnest, the kiss turns sloppy and you can feel their hot breath quicken against your mouth.
“Can you,” you mumble against their lips, your mind growing hazy as the growing ache between your thighs makes it hard to focus. “Can you come up, sit on my face?”
Lucifer stills in their movements and pulls back for a moment. You freeze, the blood rushing to your face as you realize what you’ve just requested of the Devil - wondering if, perhaps, you really have gone too far this time. But a moment later you see their pupils dilate, any trace of brilliant sapphire vanishing, their gaze lustful and overwhelming.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, little angel?” They smirk and all you can do is nod, stunned, as they crawl slowly up your body and position themselves over you, so that plush thighs encase your head. Their cunt glistens with arousal - you’ve never been more aroused in your life as they slowly lower themselves onto your face and you finally get a taste of them.
Running your tongue eagerly up their folds, you let out a low moan - warmth tingles in your belly as Lucifer echoes your moan, grinding down harder against your mouth. Your tongue flicks against their clit as you wrap your arms around their thighs to draw them as close as you can.
Above you, Lucifer’s own hands find their breasts, fondling the soft mounds of flesh, rolling their nipples between their fingers as they rut against you. Every roll of their hips brings a fresh wave of heat to your own core, and you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to find relief as your tongue circles their clit and explores their folds.
As you take your time feasting on the lightbringer, you notice a subtle wave of cool air against your body. Looking up, you see that their wings, dark and formidable, have stretched out to their full - and very impressive - length, fluttering almost imperceptibly.
You remember how sensitive your wings used to be, before you lost them in the fall - charred to bits. You wonder if Lucifer’s wings, changed in their own fall, have lost sensation, and you cannot help but to slowly inch your hand from their thigh up their lower back, until your fingertips find the base of where their wings sprout from their spine.
After a moment’s hesitation, you brush a finger over the base of their wings with a featherlight touch - and are instantly rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as a visible shiver travels through Lucifer’s body. Their hips stutter and they grind themselves into your mouth, so hard you feel you might suffocate - but you don’t mind, because they feel so good and they taste so good and they - the Devil themselves - seem to be responding to your touch. It drives you mad.
You try again, this time applying a bit more pressure and adding a second finger as you allow your touch to travel outward along the bottom of their wing. Lucifer moans, their wings twitching and their breath catching in their throat. Their expression as they look down at you - a mixture of surprise, lust, and awe - makes your heart begin to pound.
“Do that again,” they demand, breathless.
You obey, tracing over the smooth, leathery membrane of their wings and feeling those wings ripple beneath your touch as Lucifer’s lips part and their eyelids flutter shut. You can feel them get even wetter and you lap eagerly at their pussy, gathering their essence on your tongue before gently teasing their clit, your fingers continuing their exploration of their wings.
Eventually, you’ve traced over as much of their wings as you can manage from your position, and you let out a little growl of frustration which vibrates against their cunt and causes them to jerk their hips against your mouth.
“What does my little angel want, hm?” Lucifer coos, though the breathiness of their voice betrays them as they arch their back into your touch. You reach up with both hands and flatten your palms against their wings as best you can, caressing the smooth leather. Lucifer keens. “T-tell me,” they breathe, taking most of their weight off your face so you can answer.
“I want to please you.” The words come out a jumbled rush and, even through the haze of their pleasure, Lucifer manages a smirk and a breathy chuckle.
“And how would you like to do that?”
“Your, um…” You feel your cheeks grow warm, and you trace little patterns along the base of their wings, as if to emphasize your point. “Your wings, your Majesty… could I…”
The lightbringer shifts off your face and settles next to you, waiting for you to scramble up and sit behind them. Once you do they flex their wings, stretching them out - they’re breathtaking. You can see the muscles in their upper back and shoulders ripple and flex - their body is sculpted to perfection, the most divine of beings.
You’re almost too awestruck to move, but then you realize that they’re waiting for you and you reach out to touch the pad of your finger to the upper ridge of their wing and move outward in gentle strokes. A visible shiver shoots up Lucifer’s spine, and you repeat the action on the other side. Lucifer’s form shifts before you and a drawn-out moan falls from their lips - they throw their head back, blonde curls catching the light, and you realize from the trembling of their shoulders and the subtle movement of their pelvis that they’re touching themselves.
The muscles in their shoulders contract as you continue to stroke their wings, taking your time to explore every ridge, every joint. You experiment with speed and pressure, seeing what kinds of reactions you can draw from the lightbringer. On a whim, you drag your fingernails across the membrane of their wings, tantalizingly slowly - they arch their back and roll their hips, a breathy groan clawing its way out of their throat.
You switch from your nails to your knuckles, brushing them along the dark expanse before focusing on the upper ridge. It feels smooth and soft against your skin, and Lucifer writhes with pleasure, the noises spilling from their lips becoming louder and more obscene as you reach all the way to the tip of one wing.
What makes them finally come undone is the way you throw caution to the wind and flatten your tongue against their wing, tracing a path along the ridges and tendons. Their entire body jerks, wings trembling beneath your lips as they cum. A strangled cry - soft, breathy, utterly broken - pierces the air. It’s the most sinful sound you’ve ever heard, and you nearly cum as well just from the sound alone.
Lucifer’s body twitches with the aftershocks and they slump forward, catching themselves with their hands. A long period of silence stretches between you - your own heat is still throbbing, begging for release, but the longer Lucifer goes without moving, the more unsure of yourself you become.
Until they turn around. Their cheeks are flushed and their chest is heaving, and their eyes roam over your body with a hunger that steals the air from your lungs. On instinct, you scramble back a bit as your heart begins to pound against your ribcage. Lucifer smirks, their pupils dilating.
“Well, little angel,” they husk, crawling over to you until they’re towering over you, looking like a predator about to catch their prey. “It’s only fair that I return the favor, isn’t it?”
x
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#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar (the sandman) x reader#lucifer morningstar (the sandman)
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Just the way you are ❤...
#gwendoline christie#larissa weems#principal weems#brienne of tarth#miranda hilmarson#gwendolinechristie#gwendolineuniverse#principal larissa weems#jan stevens#gwen in fabric#captain phasma#jane murdstone#lucifer morningstar sandman x reader#just the way you are#my edit#she’s so beautiful#perfection
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Reflected Through the Looking Glass (Part One)
Lucifer Morningstar (The Sandman) x fem! Reader
Summary: Lucifer lost few things in the fall. Most notably the loss of connection with the Father, but not the Mother. Following Dream's defeat, Lucifer returns to Gaia, the abode of Mother for answers. Slumbering peacefully as the world around her moves forward, Y's (Y/N's) days are spent listening to the subtle changes of the world above. Upon Lucifer's return, Y's life changes drastically as Mother holds the secret of Y's existence close to her heart, a secret Lucifer is keen to unravel. Lucifer uses they/them pronouns bc all angels are canonically genderless in The Sandman. The reader is an angel. This is a soulmate thingie (idk how to describe it without giving away the whole fic). Heart-wrenchingly soft fluff.
Warnings (don't take these seriously, they exist for funny ha-ha's): Mentions of womb-like conditions, Lucifer and the reader share clothes (SCANDALOUS), reader and Lucifer BATHE together (OH NO), homosexual activities (somebody get a hotline to Jesus)
ACTUAL warnings: Consent in terms of touching non-sexual areas is dubious, (small of the back, head, thighs, etc)
Word Count: 4.1k
Mother's mantle is warm, inviting. Soft gelatinous liquid envelops you, soft glow stones giving the slightest color to the room, seen through your hooded eyes. Pulsing and changing luster with Mother's drumming heartbeat, the soft illumination gave color to your eyes, pinks, reds and oranges filling in the gaps of your retina. You've been in Mother's mantle for eons, growing and learning as the seasons changed for the last few millennia. The softening of the earth above you marked rain, and continued softening indicates the turn of spring, roots growing and expanding as fresh growth dots the landscape above you. When the ground dries and fragrance fills the air, you know Summer is upon you. Mother is most active during these seasons.
As the season changes once more, cooler air fills the mantle, and the ground above you begins to rustle with activity, small creatures preparing for the changes above. Finally, once the ground above you grows cold and damp, and all life seems to rest, you know winter has come. Mother's heartbeat grows slow, and it is in this season that she returns to her mantle. Contrary to popular belief, Mother does not sleep through winter. She rests, yes, but she does not lie dormant. Planning and preparing for the next season, Mother comes into view, and the constant heart beat that drones from above, below and beside you grows steady and sure, a pair of hands submerging into your cradle, tweaking, measuring and perfecting you.
"Hello little one, it's time for me to rest for a little while," she says, voice muffled and whimsical, a product of the goo that you grow in.
Mother slowly eases into the cradle, long leathery limbs soaking in the substance. Sighing, she holds you and you smile as you're softly rocked and cooed at, utterly dwarfed by the giant dryad-like woman. Here you grow, and slowly dream as she rests with you, coming and going as she sees fit, waiting for the earth to thaw.
<-*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*->
Mother's heart races, she's busy, very busy. It's spring and the earth has much growing to do. She's planned a fire this year, a big one in the northern forest of Gaia. This is what is above, the subject of most of her brief musings with you. The brush has grown thick, choking out new growth. These forest are made up of towering redwood and giant sequoia trees, big hulking entities that will survive the fire. You listen intently as the first strikes of lightning hit the ground, toes flexing and limbs twitching as you feel the earth above you begin to char and burn. It's invigorating, the death and rebirth cycle of earth, and you softly smile. There is no reason to fret, not until mother's heartbeat suddenly slows.
Then, as you hear the nymphs and dryads chattering fade, a voice alien and musical echoes through her mantle.
"Mother, I've come to stay with you," it muses.
Heavy hooves clatter through the mantle, and for the first time in a great many years, the dryads grow the moss around your cradle in a webbed pattern, blending it in to the stone and dirt walls, hiding you from sight. The comforting light fades, and soon you find yourself completely submerged in darkness, and for the first time in the eons long slumber, you're afraid.
<-*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*->
Mother is unnaturally quiet. The guest is slow, measured even, pacing the room variably. In your catatonic state, all activity around you is pronounced, most notably the rustling of the dryads that have made a bed for themselves directly on top of the moss over your head. An unnatural warmth comes from there bodies, heating the cradle to that of winter, when Mother's body heat keeps the cradle from freezing. They twitter above you, and every once in a while, a hand cuts through the moss to give a reassuring pet to whatever expanse of flesh it lands on. You're not reassured, silently begging for Mother's individual attention.
All grows still, and that foreign voice begins to drone.
"Mother, I've come to you in dire need,"
Mother hums in response, giant form creaking as she adjusts her position.
"I find myself the most powerless I've ever been since the fall. It seems Dream has found his way out of the sorcerers grasp,"
"I'm well aware of Dream's escape. It is as it should be. The world was out of balance for too long without him," Mother croaks.
The voice laughs, a musical, bell toned laugh that causes the dryads to chirp amongst themselves.
"Please, how could the lack of Dreams throw Earth out of balance?"
"Well that's simple isn't it? Things that should lie dormant and preoccupied by dreams lay restless and aware,"
The voice hums again, and footsteps turn and pace towards the cradle. Above you, the dryads clutch at the edges of the stone cradle, making a barrier between the top of the cradle and the strange visitor.
"Defensive, aren't we?" it chuckles. "I've never seen your dryads behave this way before, some new creation they're protecting, is it?"
"Their behavior is warranted. There are certain places even the closest of my children do not have the right to explore," Mother demands, voice growing dangerous as the guest refuses to leave the perimeter of the cradle.
"Mother, I am surprised by you! After all I've done for you, you'd dare-"
"Don't chastise me, child! I created you, and I've continued to look after you, regardless of the rift that it causes between the Father and I," Mother snarls, "You of all my children know how I hate your quarrels, and yet you continue to bother me and upset my peace with your petty squabbles,"
The guest grows silent, and the dryads begin to softly twitter amongst themselves. A few hands stroke you, and you feel a sense of safety return.
"I'm sorry Mother. I've offended you," it softly concedes. "I've come to beg your hospitality, and I've seem to have lost your favor,"
"Child of mine, you know I am not malevolent, come, sit next to me so that I may soothe your worries,"
Their voices fade away, and for the first time in almost two centuries, you begin to dream.
<-*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*->
A soft silence fills the room, and a form gently leans over the moss covered cradle. Mother's heartbeat is slow, winter is upon the world. The guest has resided with Mother for almost six moon cycles. The fire is over, all life has blossomed and died. The last of the leaves lay scattered and frost-bitten on the ground. Leathery hands cut through the moss, and Mother's hulking mass slowly slides into the cradle. The nameless guest, frequently referred to as 'Child' by mother, lays a few paces away, deep in slumber. Their heartbeat is one you've begun to sense, slow, measured and occasionally erratic. In the mantle all life is emphasized, and as the dryads lie dormant in the roots of a great tree, loneliness threatens to seep into your soul.
This sense of abandonment is what has drawn Mother to risk your discovery. Cradling you, she softly whispers about her future spring plans to you, a spring that you'll never get to see. Your existence is made bearable only by the slumbers that render most of your days timeless. Slowly, she pulls you out of the cradle completely, bringing you to her chest, taking care not to sever the umbilical cord that brings life to you from the center of the mantle. Your wings lie limp and motionless, and you feel their weight. The soreness is uncomfortable, and you wriggle, trying to find purchase in Mother's arms.
"Shh little one, you'll wake Lucifer," Mother chides.
Lucifer. The voice that calls to Mother, heartbeat slow and resonant. Fingers scrabbling for purchase, you coat Mother's arms in the goo, sliding from her arms, dangerously close to falling.
"Ai! You stop that before I leave," Mother hisses.
You slow, gently relaxing into her arms. She hums in approval, rising up to her full height, bringing you close to the dirt that encases the mantle.
"Feel," she directs, taking one of your hands and placing it against the earth.
It's cold, but wet. And as the goo slides off of your body, you smell it for the first time. It's must is strange, earthy, and just like Mother. You decide you like the smell of earth. Roots tug at your hand, and you whimper at the itchy sensation. Mother chuckles, slowly wiping away the dirt on your palm.
"So needy," she sighs. "Don't worry little one, soon you will awake,"
You are placed back into the cradle, falling into a dreamless sleep.
<-*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*->
Two hands pull you from your sleep. Cries of anguish and pain fill your ears. The wails of the nymphs alert you to danger, and the chittering of the dryad that holds you is urgent. Another pair of hands pulls at the cord that ties you to the earth, and pain fills you as it is severed. Panic fills you as oxygen depletion renders your brain cloudy. A bark-covered hand encircles one of your ankles, another hand coming down on the flat of your foot. Hot-white pain fills you and you cry out, gasping your first breath. Twittering in approval, the dryad breaks into a run as you begin to cry. Jostling you to and fro, the bark of the dryad pinches at your skin, and noticing your discomfort, moss fills in and replaces the forearms of your rescuer.
Moonlight filters in through your eyelids, and you feel the sting of wind as the dryads run for cover. Opening your eyes for the first time, the world flutters as the dryad's paces become more urgent. A strange shape circles above you. You think it's a bat, but it's limbs are too elongated. Mother loved bats, maybe she sent this one to you? The thing begins to dive, coming closer and closer. It must be a very strange creature, maybe one of Father's creations? The dryad notices and begins to chatter shrilly, and only then are you afraid. Arms extend from above, encasing your nude form. The eyes that bore down from above are serene, a shade of blue you've never seen before.
The world moves slowly as wind hisses past your ears. You grasp onto this strange creature's form, encircling their neck. Their hands move, encircling your waist, grasping at your bottom. The contact makes you blush, and you wiggle away. You're so bare, so naked, unlike them. Your cheeks grow hot as you realize that they've covered their skin. Being naked is wrong somehow, and you desperately wish to be back in your cradle, softly cared for by Mother, where these terrible feelings didn't exist, where safety and warmth were a given. Loneliness hits you like pummel to the chest, and you start to sniffle. You don't like this situation, and all of the wisdom passed down to you by Mother while you slept does little to calm you.
"Don't cry," the thing softly whispers in your ear, "You're safe with me, little one,"
The voice is very familiar, but unnerving. It's like those recurring dreams you have, where a person chases you through various locations. The face is never the same, the feelings associated with the game of cat and mouse variable, but yet the person that runs after you is the same somehow. Young and vulnerable, clinging onto anything would be natural, but as the wind whistles strange things into your ear while the ground slowly fades from view, it becomes apparent that you have no choice. Grasping on tighter to your captor, you bury your face into their neck, clinging onto the hope that this is all a terribly vivid dream.
"There, that's better, good girl," they whisper, placing a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear. "You have nothing to fear, after all, you were made for me. No one can take care of you like I can,"
Made for me? You were made for Mother. A nagging thought probes at the back of your head, from millennia ago, a distant memory, no, a phrase. It had been whispered, gently coursing it's way through reeds. She's Morningstar's..... Made for..... Like a reflection in a looking glass. Mother would find you. Mother would make this right. As the harsh winter winds whip at your body, you could only pray that this is true. Bit by bit, the cold bites at you until you start to violently shiver.
"Cold," you whisper.
Your limbs have begun to grow numb from the cold, it hurts to move them, the even bend your fingers.
"I know little one, can you wait?" the nickname both calming and revolting you. It's Mother's nickname for you. They have no right to use it with you. But it comforts you nonetheless.
"Mother," You whimper.
The thing sighs, and you slowly begin to dive. Trees fill your vision, and you hold them as tight as you can. If they let go, you'd surely fall to your death. A jolt goes through you as they land on a platform. You look like you're still in the trees. Gently lowering your feet on the ground, you test the firmness of the platform. Upon finding it sufficient, you relax. Looking up at the thing, you notice the stark contrast in height. Most things in Mother's mantle are larger than you, but somehow it seems more applicable with them. White-gold hair curls perfectly around their face. Arguably beautiful, pleasing to the eye. Wings dark and glossy flicker in amusement as you watch them, taking note of your features. Without explanation, they begin to tug at the strange material they clothe themselves with, slowly revealing milky-white skin that seems to glow in the moonlight.
They look a lot like you, at least the top half. It's mostly uncovered, a band of soft fabric running along the upper part of their chest. It looks like bandage material, something wrapped on rather than sewn to fit. Looking down at your own chest you wonder if you should have one too. The place between their legs is also covered. Coverings under coverings seems silly to you. None of the dryads or nymphs used coverings, and Mother certainly never did. In fact Mother abhorred coverings. Creations made by human beings to protect themselves from her other creations, she'd snarl. Maybe this thing was human?
"Come here," they beckon, voice low.
You still cling onto them for support, your legs shaky and tired as you adjust to your weight. The chill makes you weak, and their gaze makes you feel uncomfortably vulnerable.
"Where?" you frown.
"Closer," they whisper, smirking. You take a small step forward, still leaving a modest distance between the two of you. "Even closer," they say, pushing the small of your back forward. Your breasts press against their ribs, and you turn your head, attempting to hide your shame.
Their hands glide under your thighs, gently lift you upward until your shoulders are level. With a flick of their wrist, the coverings begin to move through the air, as if of their own volition. Cloth twists around your forms, causing you squeak as it binds your legs to their thighs, leaving room for them to bend their knees. Encasing you even further, you notice as your torsos are bound together, breaking away to individually cover your arms. It's strange, to be so bound to them, and you feel an odd pressure on your breasts, the soft material of their under cloth creating a barrier between you. Maybe this is the purpose of underclothes?
They take off once again, and this time the added security of the makeshift harness gives you the chance to enjoy flying. It feels right. This time you don't hesitate to wrap your arms around them once again, resting your head on their shoulder, gazing out at the stars. Wrapping their arms around you, they hum in approval.
"You're perfect," they sigh. "Just like I knew you'd be,"
Gloved hands caress your back. The sensation is still alien, but it feels okay. The added warmth from your joined torsos is nice, but as Lucifer labors, you notice a slight build up of moisture between your bodies, adding to the stickiness of the goo from the cradle. Contrarily, the feeling of wind whistling through your ivory wings is both pleasurable and exhilarating. Stretching them out, you move to mimic the thing's wings. Gently touching the ends of their wings with yours, smiling softly at the sensation.
"Don't do that, you'll mess with my flying," they chastise.
You fold your wings up again, blushing in shame, turning away from them as best as you can. You begin to pout, desperate to separate yourself from this thing and their odd criticisms. They laugh, a hand reaching up to turn your face so they can whisper in your ear once more.
"Sweet one, I did not mean to be harsh, you're wings are very beautiful," they say, soothing voice killing your childish anger, "I'll teach you how to fly another time," they promise, peppering kisses on your forehead and ear.
The kisses are nice, but the anonymity of the stranger makes causes you to resent them.
"Who are you anyway?" you ask, craning your head to look at them.
"I'm Lucifer Morningstar, ruler of Hell,"
Of course! Your eyes widen in recognition. This is the guest of Mother's! You are surely safe in their care, after all, Mother loves them so. Mulling over the last title, you wonder aloud.
"You're a star?"
They begin to laugh, a full, boisterous laugh that fills you with glee. Yes. You are safe. No one this pretty or this nice would ever take you from Mother.
"No, not like that. I'm a fallen angel," Lucifer explains
"Like me?" You ask.
"Sort of. Only you're not fallen,"
"Is that bad?" you whisper.
"It's neither good nor bad. It just is," they shrug, accidentally clipping your chin on their shoulder, causing you to bite your lip.
You cry out in pain, and Lucifer tenses up. Their grip on you is tender, protective.
"What happened little one?"
"I bit my lip,"
Lucifer hums, choosing to caress your back as comfort. Your blood tastes strange, metallic. It tastes how Lucifer smells; sweet and a bit spicy.
"I'll have a look when we reach hell,"
<-*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*->
Hell is cold. Above pits of fire that boil and foam it is still cold. A river of ice runs through most of hell, and you're once again grateful for the coverings provided. You soar through the rocky caverns until you're met with the sight of a glorious space, enclosed and sheltered from the strange cries of agony that bounce off the canyon-like walls. Once again waving their hand, Lucifer commands the coverings to unravel, and you watch as the fabric returns to it's original form, leaving you nude once more. It's uncomfortable to be this naked, and you grasp at Lucifer, attempting to cover yourself again. In this strange, cold and dark place, the cloth acted as a safety net, now you have nothing but the hulking frame of your wings that hide very little.
"Now, you'd better stop that," they warn. "You can't rely on me for protection all the time,"
This revelation scares you, and you once again think of Mother, a pit of fear carving it's way into your stomach. Lucifer doesn't speak, slowly untangling you from them before roughly dragging you toward an opening in the wall. It's disconcerting how gruff they are with you, the environment around them seemingly changing their personality. Your footwork is clumsy, and you trip, falling forward. Lucifer manages to catch you, and you feel ashamed of your lack of coordination. But instead of a cold glare, regretful care fills their eyes as they help you up.
"I'm sorry little one, I forget that you're still as clumsy as a newborn lamb," Lucifer apologizes, gently guiding you toward the vat of steaming water with tender dedication.
They softly lower you into the water, hands guiding your shaky limbs up the stairs and downward once more. You sigh and slide into the steaming water until your head barely sits above the surface. The sensations in your toes and fingers feel odd, almost like you're being poked repeatedly. Turning to look at them, you verify that this is not the case. You giggle at the oddness of your body, the variable sensations that it can produce, completely oblivious to Lucifer's presence. The water ripples as they lower themselves into the water, and for the first time you see their torso completely uncovered. It looks different than yours, but you don't think too much about it.
Your wandering gaze doesn't seem to bother them, hands gently coming to cup your face, eyes full of adoration. The bath begins to cloud with the dissolved substance of the cradle, and this change causes Lucifer to hum in disapproval.
"Oh my, you really are coated in that fluid," Lucifer grimaces.
Taking a glob of something from a bottle, Lucifer brings their hands to your scalp, running their fingers through your hair, desperately trying to rid you of every inch of dried goo. It feels good, like every sensation Lucifer brings to your body. Their focus on your scalp gives you the opportunity to regard them without the piercing intensity of their gaze. Their lips are pursed in concentration, the divot between their browbones emphasized. Limbs long and slender move and churn, collarbones flexing and fading from scrutiny. The moment ends, hands returning to your back. Dipping your head backward, Lucifer rinses your scalp. Leaning over you, Lucifer looks beautiful. As the substance slowly rinses away in the water, you dare to look deep into those discerning eyes, and find them to be serene. Reaching upward, you return to that embrace you know so well, much to Lucifer's approval. The embrace feels especially vulnerable, no shroud covering you from feeling every inch of their skin.
They smell especially sweet, and you wonder if you smell pleasant to them. Their wings hang loose, relaxed. Their back muscles are especially pronounced, enlarged from the flight. Ripples in the water alert you to movement, a piece of cloth slowly massaging every inch of your backside. It feels good, and you lose yourself in the feeling. Turning to look at them, they lean forward, planting a sickeningly sweet kiss to your cheek.
"Sorry," they chuckle as your face burns red, "I couldn't help myself,"
Their soft smile morphs into a frown as they notice the dried blood on your lip.
"You did bust your lip,"
Taking the utmost care, they clean the blood away from your lips, grimacing as a fresh bleed leaks from your lips. Their thumb takes a final swipe at your lip, blood dotting the pad. Blue eyes bore into yours as they angle it toward their lip, gently sucking away the remnants. Your cheeks burn, intently watching their every move.
"Your iron levels are low," they muse. "We'll fix that,"
Cupping your face once again, you shyly drop your gaze, much to Lucifer's amusement. Hands pull you upward, helping you out of the tub. You make a conscious effort to avoid looking at their form. It feels improper, and a bit risque. All life is built in with some sense of sexuality, as was Mother's way, but without Mother's guidance it was unclear whether or not yours was warranted. Softness encased you, fabric running up and down your arms, down your legs, drying your hair. You realized this was Lucifer's doing, yet their hands remained delicately planted on your hips. Your sexuality must be unwarranted after all.
Robes were produced and both you and Lucifer were clothed. A strange looking creature brought a tray of food into the room, and to your delight it was fruit. Fruit trees brought the most fragrance to the Earth, and therefore must taste the best. Indeed it did, and you hummed, completely oblivious to the juice that slid down your chin. You ate until your stomach hurt a little bit, the tray disappearing as swiftly as it was sent for. Sleepiness tugged at your eyelids, noting only the slightest of changes around you. Lucifer cleaned your face and your hands with utmost care, gently cradling you as you were moved once again.
Softness caressed every corner of your body. Sleep overcame you slowly, and you drifted off to the familiar sound of Lucifer's heartbeat, growing slow and confident as they too fell asleep.
<-*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*->
A/N: My obsession with winged reader inserts becomes apparent. This is completely self-indulgent. Yes, I wanted to be an angel as a child. Yes, I was absolutely crushed when I found out I couldn't be one when I died and went to heaven. If the catholic church was smart, they'd tell all the little children that if they were extra good they'd become angels. I digress. Spicy stuff in the next part!
Tags: @hecatescrystaldagger @the-fuck-do-i-know
#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman x reader#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader#fluff#lucifer morningstar fluff
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MORE MEMES
i am having too much fun making these
#gwendoline christie memes#brienne of tarth#jan stevens#captain phasma#lucifer morningstar sandman#marilyn thornhill#brienne of tarth x reader#jan stevens x reader#captain phasma x reader#lucifer morningstar (sandman) x reader#marilyn thornhill x reader
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Pet Play Kink with Lucifer Morningstar ~Kinktober 2023
Happy October 18!!! Today is a Pet Play Kink. With the one and only, ruler of hell, from The Sandman, Lucifer Morningstar. Hope your Enjoy!! 🖤🩸
Previous Day <—found here!
Kinktober 2023 <—Here!!
Mommy… Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, pet play kink, implied smut, eating out, pet names, praise, implied praise kink, implied future smut, etc.
Enjoy (;
Lucifer came into their private quarters with a deep sigh, slamming the door behind them.
They had told you earlier that they would be late, as the day had been extremely busy. The Lightbringer had instructed you to be kneeling at the edge of their bed, garments off, ready for them after their work. And you obeyed. You were kneeling at the edge of their massive bed, naked and awaiting their instructions.
“Good pet…” The blonde breathed out, removing their top most layer of garments.
They made their way over to you, looming tall over you and the edge of the bed. Their hand reached out to your chin, caressing your face, as they gazed into your eyes. Their expression was one filled with tiredness and stress. They gazed into nothingness for a couple of minutes, simply caressing your chin and neck.
You would have asked if you could help, but that broke the rules. You only spoke when spoken to. So you sat there, like a good pet. Suddenly, Lucifer broke out of their trance and they sighed.
“I’m sorry pet, I’m very distracted today” the Lightbringer sighed.
You bit your lip and nodded.
“It’s okay, Master. I don’t mind” you reassured the blonde.
Your words caused the Lightbringer to smile lightly at you.
“Perhaps my pet can help me resolve some of my issues…” Lucifer teased lightly.
Your eyes widened and you nodded vigorously.
“Yes Master…! Please let me help you. I’ll be good.” You quipped eagerly, finding your purpose and joy in pleasing and helping the Lightbringer.
“Such an eager pet…” Lucifer chuckled with a smirk.
They then sat themselves on their great, large reading chair the corner by the window. They spread their legs and began rolling up and removing all the garments that might hinder you from aiding the Lightbringer.
“Come, Pet.” The blonde ordered.
“Yes, Master”
You immediately swing your feet out from underneath you and rose, scurrying over to the fallen Angel. You fell to your feet in front of the Lightbringer and immediately began aiding in the removal of their garments.
“Take it slow, Little Pet.” Lucifer reminded you with a hum.
You nodded and slowed your pace.
“Yes Master.” You spoke.
“Hmmmm, Good Pet…” they hummed in approval, “I want us both to enjoy this…”
~~~
Next Day <—Mommy Kink!!
Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist
Kinktober 2023 Masterlist
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#pet play kink#lucifer morningstar#pet kink#pet k!nk#pet k1nk#pet play k1nk#pet play k!nk#pet pl4y#pet pl@y#sandman lucifer#lucifer morningstar (the sandman)#the sandman lucifer#lucifer x reader#the sandman lucifer x reader#lucifer fanfiction#lucifer morningstar smut#lucifer#lucifer sandman#lucifer netflix#lucifer morningstar x reader#sandman neil gaiman#the sandman#sandman fanfiction#sandman fanfic#sandman smut#sandman fandom#gwendoline christie#gwen christie
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Adored (NSFW)
Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
You wish to be dominated and owned by Lucifer.
Authors Note: No one requested this, but my brain is a whorehouse.
You were pleasantly surprised by the rapid pacing of your sex life with Lucifer. For months they had taken their time, slowly progressing to their physical intimacy, but it all came to a head a few weeks ago when your hunger for Lucifer outweighed your brain telling you to wait it out.
The Lightbringer was unbelievably gentle and sweet with you the first time, but as the two began opening up in the bedroom, you had unlocked a particularly rough part of your romantic partner. What started as a light choking had progressed to bondage and Lucifer dominating every part of your being… and you couldn’t have loved it more.
You felt insatiable, needing Lucifer’s hands on you in every spare moment. You felt like you had gone a lifetime without water and now at the first sip, you realized how thirsty you were.
Tonight you had a special surprise for Lucifer, who was reading in the bed you had recently begun to share. You had purchased a new dildo for their strapon and you had bought herself a new leather lingerie set. The crisscrossing straps outlined your breasts and crotch while also decorating the rest of your torso.
You were jittering with nervous excitement as you emerged from the bathroom, your bottom lip gripped between your teeth as you awaited Lucifer’s reaction to the new outfit. When the ruler didn’t glance up at your return to the bedroom, you saw it fit to clear your throat and use a term of endearment for the Morningstar to catch their attention, “Ahem… dearest…”
“Mm?” Lucifer hummed, their focus unwavering from the book in their hands.
You chuckled at the focus they had for their novel. You weren't interested in sharing Lucifer’s attention with anyone or anything else tonight. Rather you made your way to the foot of the bed and crawled up onto the mattress, cooing for Lucifer once more, only this time you used a new nickname, “Oh, sweetness…”
Lucifer’s eyes flickered up from their book, and you had to smirk at the quiet Latin phrase mumbled under Lucifer’s breath, “Salus mea advenit…”
You continued your journey into Lucifer’s lap, earning the full attention of the larger being beneath you as Lucifer marked their page and discarded the book on their nightstand. As you straddled the Lightbringer’s lap, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies at the way the Morningstar was admiring your body. Your breath hitched as Lucifer took a few agonizingly long minutes to look over every exposed inch of your body before laying a finger on you.
“Absolutely delectable you look…” Lucifer hummed as they allowed their fingers to trace the outlines of the leather straps.
Your eyes snapped shut at the compliment and your whole body tensed as you awaited Lucifer’s hands on your bare skin. The first brush of Lucifer’s fingers against your skin was against your stomach and then again over your waist. Prying your eyes open, you looked down to Lucifer and saw the Morningstar’s attention was entirely captured by your body.
Their hands continued to ghost all over until they finally landed on your breasts, “Look at your pretty self…”
Lucifer’s tone sent a shiver down your spine. It was filled with so much admiration, but you knew it held a hunger that would lead to you pinned against the mattress being fucked into oblivion.
The Morningstar’s hands fell away from your breasts, ghosting over your sides, and back around to skim over your ass to land on the backs of your thighs. You couldn’t help but let out a whimper at the feeling of the Lightbringer cupping your thighs. Lucifer’s hands made you feel incredibly small, a strange and wonderful sensation. “Beautiful legs, beautiful breasts…”
Lucifer’s hands lingered on your legs, taking their time with the anatomy they loved so much. Their hands glided up and down the backs of your thighs, fingertips coming achingly close to your bare heat before drifting away again. You found it so tantalizing that your breathing quickened and you needed to brace herself by placing your hands on Lucifer’s shoulders.
The Morningstar took advantage of the new proximity and lowered their lips to your nipple. Their words ghosted over your flesh before they pulled the sweet bud into their mouth, “Mmm… perfect, perfect, perfect as far as the eye can see…”
The praise caused you to release a whine - there was nothing you loved more than compliments and affirmations from the Lightbringer. Weaving your hands into Lucifer’s blonde curls, you hummed and whimpered at the teasing of their mouth. You became lost in the sensation and as time passed, you began to rock your hips against Lucifer’s lap, unconsciously seeking friction.
The movement stirred something in Lucifer and their hands began shifting upward along with their mouth. Lucifer nipped and sucked across your chest and collarbone, leaving behind fresh bruises to accompany the others from the nights before.
Lucifer’s voice was low, breath grazing over your neck as their fingers gently rolled your nipples between their thumb and forefinger. “I could make you mine, and I know you’d like that, hm?”
You nodded vigorously, wrapping your arms tighter around the Lightbringer’s neck and grinding your hips downward once again. You were hoping to catch their attention to make it aware that you needed the Morningstar’s touch desperately.
“So desperate...”
You suddenly found yourself on your back, splayed across the king size bed for the Morningstar to use at their pleasure. Lucifer’s hands glided over your torso, feeling every exposed inch of skin while their eyes focused on your body with an intensity you had never experienced before. One would almost think that they had never seen you naked with the way they focused on your body.
Even though the Lightbringer was touching your non-erogenous zones, you felt herself dripping at the prospect that the being above you was admiring you. Lucifer worked their way down until they were seated between your legs, lifting the right leg up for them to begin kissing their way up towards your inner thigh. The Morningstar adored how time consuming it was to kiss all the way up your leg and was happy to repeat the same process on the left.
You were trying your best to keep still (knowing Lucifer was happy to punish you for squirming too much), but it felt nearly impossible as your arousal grew. They were setting every cell of your being on fire with each kiss. Never had your body been worshiped or cared for like this.
As Lucifer made their way to your inner thigh, they sucked at the tender flesh, leaving large dark marks in their wake. Your body had been marked to high heaven by the Lightbringer as a physical display of how you were all theirs. You felt Lucifer pause for a moment, the Morningstar’s cheek resting against your inner thigh as they reveled in the beauty that was you.
You were earnest in your begging, “Please… Please, my devil… I need you to touch me please.”
“Mmm… Such a needy little love.” Lucifer teased, their fingers running the length of your wet and swollen cunt. It was obvious how turned on you were.
“Maybe we should get you out of this.” They spoke and there was a jerk, a snapping sound, and you felt yourself come free of the lingerie. Glancing down, you saw Lucifer pulling apart the lingerie until it lay on either side of you, shredded by their strength. “There is just something about you being completely bare for me.”
“Fuck.” You groaned, not from being upset at the destruction of the outfit, but from the display of strength from the Morningstar.
“Look at you…” Lucifer breathed, their fingers slipping in your slit to feel the wetness growing there.
“You make me so wet… You make me so wet. You know just how to touch me… You know just how to make me feel good… No one has ever made me feel as good as you do.” You were falling apart at the seams, hoping you could say something to make Lucifer touch you the way you needed.
Lucifer only chuckled in response, their index finger slowly plunging into you to test just how ready you were to be fucked. As always after even a short while of touching, one finger slid in with ease, causing you to mewl out. Smirking, Lucifer chose to slowly add another, resulting in you gripping at the sheets and moaning even louder.
Resting their head against your thigh, Lucifer began to alternate between slowly fucking you with their fingers and teasing you with light pressure against your clit. You were struggling to maintain control of yourself at the new type of teasing as you felt an orgasm come close and pull away with each alternation. The Morningstar couldn’t help themself when they lowered their lips to your clit; they needed a taste of you. They sucked at the bundle of nerves as they pumped their fingers in and out of your cunt, watching your back arched as the edging finally subsided and you were allowed to experience the bliss of an orgasm.
Pulling their mouth away from your clit, they continued fucking you with their fingers, not wanting to let up on the stimulation until you were entirely done with sex for the evening. “Are you ready, lamb?”
“Mhmm. Please, I need you to fuck me.” You begged. It wasn’t until you started having sex that you realized you could come from penetrative sex. Since then, you craved the sensation like the air you breathed.
You whimpered when Lucifer’s warmth left you. The towering being crossed the room and pulled the harness from a drawer, raising their eyes and smirking when they saw the new addition to the sex toy drawer: a dildo larger than you had ever taken before. One that you were dreading with sweet anticipation.
When the Morningstar returned to the bedside with the cock now attached to their body, they couldn’t help but smirk at the you beneath them, “So desperate to be filled, aren’t you, lamb?”
You were hesitant in your response, only giving a brief nod as you bit your bottom lip. You spread your legs to invite Lucifer between them, hoping the Morningstar would be gentle.
Settling between your legs, Lucifer teased the cock at your entrance, smirking as they watched your thighs clench each time the head of the cock slipped past your entrance. “You look so pretty all spread out for me.”
You couldn’t help yourself when you reached down and grasped Lucifer by the wrist, halting them from pushing the head of the massive cock into your pussy. Your face must have told Lucifer everything they needed to know about your concerns as they leaned back on their heels, shaking their head. The Morningstar pulled your hand away from their wrist with one hand and pushed the head of the cock into your cunt with the other.
Once Lucifer was sure the cock wouldn’t slip out, they leaned forward, taking your hands in their own and pinning them above your head. Their voice sounded so kind and soothing, but the words made you ache deep in your core, “Don’t worry, my child. I shall make it fit…”
Your arms wrapped around their neck while your legs wrapped around Lucifer’s waist, pulling the larger being into a desperate and sloppy kiss. You couldn’t help but moan into the Lightbringer’s mouth when they pushed the cock all the way into your cunt, only stopping when the hilt hit your entrance.
All of it. The whole cock was buried in you and you were aching in pain. You needed a reprieve.
Lucifer began the slow steady process of creating a pace for you. They braced their forearms on either side of your head and slowly began pulling out and pushing back in. Tears were still forming in your eyes, even as you began to adjust to the full size. The final two inches were still too much, but you were going to take it all for the Morningstar.
When you felt yourself relax into the pacing, you finally gave Lucifer the green light to fuck and use you as you saw fit. “Harder, dearest… Please fuck me harder…”
Lucifer only needed to be told once.
In one swift motion, Lucifer maneuvered your legs into place, pushing them back far enough that your knees were nearly touching your chest. From there they began their assault on your cunt, not providing any mercy to your moaning and drooling self beneath them.
The only word you were able to get out was ‘fuck’ and it came out strangled and whiny, over and over, as it blended with your other moans and cries.
You had never experienced such animalistic sex. It almost made you wish that Lucifer had a real cock so you could encourage them to come deep inside of you. You felt the need to be bred. You felt the need to be claimed. You felt the need to be owned by the Morningstar.
Lucifer was ruthless in their pacing and the sound of the strap sliding in and out of your soaked cunt was music to their ears. You were becoming far too blissed out and overwhelmed to make a sound.
They were fucking you with an unmatched level of brutality and you knew you would never be able to live without it. You were folded and manipulated into a position only attempted by professional acrobats, allowing the strap to reach parts of your cunt that you hadn’t known existed.
The fucking lasted for a good hour and you was beyond overstimulated. Brain numbing orgasm after brain numbing orgasm, the pleasurable sensations were soured by how overwhelming everything was. All you could do was claw at Lucifer’s back and choke out your pleas for the ruler to stop their ministrations, “P-please- Plea-Please.. S-s-top. Lu-AH-Lucifer… Stop!”
You were regretting not creating a safeword with Lucifer prior, but the relationship was so new that it hadn’t come up until now. The Morningstar continued their relentless assault on your cunt, resulting in you planting your hands on Lucifer’s cheeks and begging them to stop once more with an elevated intensity to your tone. The Lightbringer slowed their pacing instantly, gently de-escalating their thrusts to ease you into them pulling out.
Your chest heaved as you clung to Lucifer, hugging them tight as you tried to pull yourself together and stretched out your legs. Your brain felt fuzzy and your legs ache from the position the Morningstar had placed you in. You knew full well you were going to feel tonight’s activities for the next couple days.
“…thank you…” You sighed, your fingers raking through Lucifer’s hair as the Morningstar settled their cheek between your breasts. The Morningstar’s only response being a curt nod and a squeeze to your hips.
You were physically spent and even through your groggy thoughts, you could only think of how much you adored Lucifer. This being who had spent hours ravishing you was more tender with you than anyone else you knew. You wanted to give all of yourself to Lucifer in a way you had never given yourself before.
“Would you like to date? Uhm… I mean- Would you like to be an official couple?” You tried to pull away any vulnerability from the question, hoping the Morningstar wouldn’t sense that you were desperate for them to say yes.
Lucifer raised themself off your chest, staring down at you with a blend of curiosity and admiration. “I would adore to be your partner. And I would adore if you were to be mine.”
The confidence in Lucifer’s answer made you feel light and giddy in a way that you hadn’t felt in years. You pulled the Morningstar’s face to yours, allowing you to lock lips for a moment.
When you parted, the Lightbringer slipped off you to lay at your side, which you took immediate advantage of, snuggling your body into the crook of their arm to lay your head on their shoulder.
“I adore you, dearest...”
“I adore you, starlight…”
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#lucifer morningstar (sandman) x reader#gwendoline christie#fanfic#lucifer smut#lucifer morningstar smut#lucifer morningstar (sandman)#the sandman#gwen christie
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