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#the sandman lucifer x reader

unmeisenpai · 29 days

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Ok here’s some random omega vers with Brienne because I couldn’t resist yall reading it. Also ❌18+❌ ONLY MDI, omega verse, Brienne being a top, biting/ marking, breeding kink. I think that’s everything please lmk if I missed anything and I hope yall enjoy.

Slamming

“Brienne…mmm.please….slow down.”

Your legs were numb, as Brienne slammed you into the wall. Your whole body off the ground, as she held you in her strong arms.

You never expected your knight, Lord commander of the Kings guard, Ser Brienne of Tarth would be taking you roughly, behind a brothel.

You hadn’t seen her in 8 years, and ever since she left Tarth you heard nothing of her whereabouts, if she was dead or alive.

So when you received a raven from Kings Landing, inviting you to stay in the castle as a personal guest of the Lord Commander. You never expected to see Brienne standing by the Kings side, clad in Gold armor and looking like a Goddess of War.

Now here you are being filled to the brim by the very knight you longed for.

Your arms warped around her neck, as she slams into you biting down on your shoulder. You want to scream at her pace and grunts, but you keep yourself quiet, and decide to bite her instead.

She hisses at that, and grunts into your ear as she digs her nails into your thighs and slams you into the wall harder and harder with each thrust.

“Brienne take me, I’m yours I always have been.” Her only response to your words is her hand moving towards your clit and rubbing tight circles onto it. You hissed at that and did your best not to scream.

Her thrusts grew needy and desperate, as she chanted your name over and over.

“Destiny you’re mine, I’ll never let you go.”

Her thrusts become erratic as she cries out your name, you know you can’t take much more, so you call out to her.

“Brienne I can’t… I’m going to…” She understands your meaning and kisses you roughly, in that moment you can feel her fill you to the brim with her seed. Your whole body reacts and you can’t help but cum on her cock, as you scream her name.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #the sandman lucifer x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #larissa x reader #jane murdstone x reader #wallpaper #top brienne #ser brienne #Brienne x oc

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 7 months

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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

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why-what-no · 2 years

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Old Friends, New Loves

Pairing: Lucifer x Immortal!Reader

Warnings: Smut

Summary: Lucifer’s former dear friend visits them for the first time since their fall. A visit that reveals many formerly unspoken feelings.

Requested by: Anonymous & “babxshkajelly” on Wattpad

"Your Grace." Mazikeen spoke out in the cavernous throne room, looking cautiously at her ruler.

Her ruler who didn't look very happy.

"What?" Lucifer hissed, feeling a stress headache coming. They didn't even know angels could get stress headaches.

"A visitor has asked for permission to enter Hell."

Sighing and sitting down, they waved for Mazikeen to continue. "Very well, who is it?"

When Mazikeen said the name (Y/N), Lucifer's breath caught in their throat. After all the years, why had (Y/N) come to hell to see them? What aim could they possibly had in making the journey. "Escort them in." Lucifer demanded, the anticipation clear in their voice. "Immediately."

The sight of (Y/N) was so strange to the devil, not having seen their fellow immortal in what felt like eternity. In fact, it probably have actually been eternity since the two of them had faced each other.

The last time Lucifer and (Y/N) spoke had been before Lucifer had fallen. Before they began ruling Hell, only being an Angel like so many others.

(Y/N) had been one of the only things that they missed about that time. The aura of life and godly power that emanated from them was like sunshine warming Lucifer. Hell was cold, and once in a while Lucifer missed the warmth that (Y/N) provided.

But now they were in hell, and the headache that had been bothering Lucifer practically disappeared at the sight of their old friend.

"Hello, Samael." (Y/N) spoke formally, looking at the fallen Angel with their hands clasped. As ethereal as ever, elegance and the feeling of power to match Lucifer themself. "Or do you prefer Lucifer now? I've heard you've taken on that name as your own."

They were more unfriendly than Lucifer remembered, but the devil supposed they had a fair amount of reasons to treat them like that. Before the fall, (Y/N) had been much more casual with them. Loving and teasing, the closest of friends. In fact, there were times that Lucifer had hoped their friendship would change into something... more.

"Whatever you prefer to call me will be a welcome, my old friend." They tried to be warmer to (Y/N) than they would be to others.

But (Y/N) just raised their eyebrow. "Alright... Luci. I have a message from Heaven for you." They held out a scroll for them to take.

"Thank you." Lucifer had sighed at the taunting nickname, but didn't loose their calm. Instead taking the letter and opening it.

It was the average message, soul counts and punishment regulations. Nothing that Lucifer would ever listen or respond to. After reading, they returned their attention to (Y/N), who was trying to make it look like they weren't staring at Lucifer.

"And why did you come to deliver the message, my dear?" Lucifer asked with a smirk. "Why you? Have you gotten closer to god and heaven since you left me to battle god alone?"

A sudden glint of anger reached (Y/N) eyes. "Left you?" They asked incredulously. It didn't matter that Lucifer was the devil, they would speak to their old friend with as little respect as they wished. "You left me."

Lucifer rolled their eyes at that, wishing that they hadn't brought of old troubles. But... it was hard not to feel betrayed by the past between them.

"Now, now, my dear. Don't play innocent, you could have joined me if you wished. But you stood back and let me suffer. You didn't side with me."

"You didn't ask me too!" (Y/N) snapped back, the anger leaving their eyes as they said that, replaced by exhaustion.

That caught Lucifer off guard.

From the moment Lucifer had met (Y/N), they had known their fellow immortal was special. Just like them. Alive since the world had commenced, a being of life and the natural world.

Their wisdom rivalled any other beings, with the love in their heart to share that wisdom. Unlike Lucifer, they were much more empathetic. Much more genuine.

Lucifer never knew why they were so drawn to (Y/N). Perhaps they had admired those qualities in their friend that Lucifer knew that they would never develop.

"Would you have joined me if I had asked?" Asked Lucifer, trying not to sound desperate for the answer.

(Y/N) looked down, avoiding Lucifer's powerful gaze. It made them feel too much. "Yes." They responded softly. "If you had asked."

"Why?" It didn't make sense to Lucifer that (Y/N) would give up everything for them. Why would they?

"Because... I loved you. I love you."

No words would be sufficient in replying to (Y/N), so they didn't speak. Instead stepping closer and cupping (Y/N)'s face, pulling their love into a kiss.

(Y/N) responded immediately by leaning close and kissing them back. Much more enthusiastically than Lucifer had expected, but the devil was thrilled that (Y/N) wanted them like they wanted (Y/N).

Pressing them against a wall, Lucifer didn’t waste any time in running their hands over their love’s body. Feeling them gasp against Lucifer’s mouth. They tugged at (Y/N)‘s tunic, reached down to trace a finger along their thigh. Absolutely adoring the arousal in (Y/N)‘s face.

Lucifer began to hope that they could see them like that every day, moaning at the devil stroked over their most intimate parts. Getting all worked up at the pleasurable feelings that Lucifer pulled out of them as well as the power that they knew Lucifer now had over them.

But Lucifer wouldn’t let them come from their hand, instead Lucifer sank down to their knees so that they could bring (Y/N) to orgasm with their mouth. They knew that it felt good for (Y/N) from the whines and moans, the pleading as (Y/N) tugged at Lucifer’s light hair.

Lucifer never gave in to the begging, knowing exactly how to pleasure their love so that (Y/N) would beg for more every day that they spent together. So that they wouldn’t ever want to live a life without Lucifer teasing an orgasm out of them. The devil could act kind, and the devil could act cruel, and they would give (Y/N) whatever they desired.

Whatever made them scream and beg for more.

When they let (Y/N) come, Lucifer kept them pressed against the wall as they caught their breath. Kissing their love and murmuring sweet words to calm them.

“Will you join me?” Lucifer finally asked after an eternity of wondering, once they had carried (Y/N) to their bedchambers and let them relax from their intimacy.

(Y/N) let out a small, yet content, sigh. “Of course, until the end of all life itself… Luci.” They added with a playful smirk.

A small chuckle came from Lucifer at (Y/N)’s words. They didn’t mind the nickname, knowing that (Y/N) had an eternity of teasing them to make up for.

In fact, Lucifer had missed that smirk.

Taglist: : @dark-academia-slut @silverhart93 @stygianoir @keengardenprincess @oswinthestrange

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infamous-light · 1 year

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Sacrifice

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel! Gender Neutral Reader

AO3: Sacrifice

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: There is nothing nobler than offering oneself to the Ruler of Hell to ensure humanity's survival.

Warnings: Non-con touching of the wing

“I want your angel.”

Those few simple words echoed within the walls of your mind, searing into the deep recesses of your memory.

It caused your chest to tighten, as if a pound of bricks rested its weight across where a human heart would have been if you were born a mortal. Each of your fingers trembled despite your hands becoming numb and your breaths came out uneven and shallow.

The mere thought of the Ruler of Hell demanding you in exchange for Dream’s helm brought forth a new wave of terror to wash over you.

“No, I do not agree to the terms of our deal.”

Dream’s deep and imposing voice snapped you back to the present.

Lucifer arched a single, unimpressive eyebrow at the shorter man standing before her.

“Truly?” She drawled out in a slow manner. “Then it appears that this is where your visit will come to an end, Dream Lord.” His title was said with a mixture of derision and ridicule.

Your eyes flickered from the back of Dream’s head to Lucifer’s impassioned gaze. This was a foolish decision, you knew. The restoration of his realm and bringing back balance to The Dreaming was vital. Without it, humanity’s survival will come to a swift end.

Swallowing down your nerves, you took one step forward.

“I agree to the deal, Dream.” You declared aloud.

He turned toward you with a slight furrow to his brow, a questioning look on his face.

“It’s ok. I want to do this.” You paused in your speech as your gaze drifted toward the towering figure standing a few feet away from you. There was a glimmer of interest that shone within those ice-blue eyes of hers. You averted your eyes and focused on Dream’s intense gaze. “I know how important your tools are to you.”

His dark eyes narrowed a fraction.

“I will not trade my closest friend.” He now turned to fully face you. “We will find another way.”

“Dream, please. Let me make my own decision. This is something that needs to be done. You know it.” Your voice trailed off into a gentle whisper as you stared at him, imploring him to reconsider.

His expression morphed into one of repressed pain.

“As you wish.” His tone was solemn as he murmured those words.

Lucifer smiled, a terrible and beautiful thing.

“So, it is done.” She announced.

The loud snap of her fingers rang throughout the dark throne room and a lesser demon appeared with Dream’s helm carried in his arms. The demon handed over the item with reluctance and then sneered as Dream turned his back from the foul creature to face you once more with the helm now held within his own hands.

“I will come back for you.” Dream said in earnest. “I promise.”

You gave him a sad smile in response.

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Dream.” Lucifer’s airy tone interrupted with a small tsk. “The terms have been set and they belong to me fully. I will not give them up so easily.” The corner of her lips twisted into a sardonic grin.

“I know.” He stated simply. “Until that day, Lightbringer.”

He turned on his heel and pulled out a small pouch, pouring his sand onto the floor in one concentrated area. A cloud of sand arose around him just then, swirling in all directions. His eyes met your own for a split second and you watched as he began to fade away along with the silt until there was nothing left of him.

There was only silence now as you were finally left alone with the beast of the underworld.

“Stubborn one, isn’t he?” Lucifer said in amusement.

Those glacial eyes bore right through you as you stood in the center of the room. There was a slight tilt of her head as her keen gaze roved over your form, observing your nervous countenance.

“What is your name?”

Your lips were pressed into a thin line for a moment. After a few seconds, you decided to tell her your name with some amount of hesitance.

Every fiber of your body ached in dread as Lucifer began to circle around you, akin to a hungry predator stalking its trapped prey. The skin on the back of your neck prickled in fear as she continued to tail around you.

Lucifer came to a stop in front of you and you tilted your face up to look at her. A sickening churn twisted its way into your gut as you noted how her eyes focused on your wings.

Her gaze was thick with something so noticeable that you couldn’t even deign to ignore it even if you wanted to: desire.

Her right hand reached out and skimmed over the pure, white feathers of one of your wings, letting it trail along the intricate patterns which blended into one another, giving it a smooth appearance. The tips of her fingers caressed the rounded, delicate curvature of your wing, delighting in the softness that graced her skin.

The word beautiful slipped passed her lips and a shiver made its way down your spine.

“Sensitive, are we?” Lucifer chuckled, a hint of cruelty behind it.

You glared up at her.

She smiled down at you. “Oh, come now, don’t give me that look. It rids of you such beauty.”

“I’d rather not have your hands sully my wings.” The pure disgust that laced your tone couldn’t be masked as you continued to scowl at her.

Lucifer’s eyes flashed in warning as her hand darted out to grip your jaw in a vice-like hold.

“My, who knew that a sweet little angel such as yourself could hold such fire within them.”

The pressure on your mandible increased as you tried to yank your head away but the grasp she has on you was unrelenting. The sharp, manicured ends of her nails dug into your cheeks with each movement you made.

“While it is entertaining to watch you struggle, I will not allow such disobedience from you.” She pulled you flush against her front and leaned down, the surface of her lips tickling the curve of your ear. She whispered: “It is time for you to learn your place.”

The next moment was unexpected as a harsh shove forced you down to the ground, causing the side of your head to bounce off the stone floor. Your vision blurred over.

An agonizing fire lit up all your nerve endings just then as the sharp point of her heel pressed down into your upper back, pinning you to the cold floor beneath her. A sharp yelp escaped you as she applied steady pressure between the vulnerable gap where the roots of your wings sprouted from your body.

“Beg for mercy.” Lucifer cooed above you. “Beg for mercy and I will end the pain wrought upon your body.”

Hot, searing pain shot throughout your body and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears away.

She shifted more of her weight onto her foot and the tip of her heel dug in deeper into your abused flesh.

“I know how much this hurts you, my sweet little angel.” Lucifer said with false sympathy.

She pressed down harder.

The cry that tore from your throat was raw in its anguish. Fresh tears traveled down your cheeks in a steady stream. It was too much.

“Please.” You managed to sob out, sounding pathetic to your own ears. “Please, stop.”

The burning pain between your wings immediately disappeared and the pressure lifted away.

Desperate, ragged breaths entered your airway as you lied there in a heap. Still, motionless.

The soft taps of her heels connecting with the floor reverberated around your prone form until a pair of black boots appeared in your field of view. There was a rustling of fabric before Lucifer knelt to be closer to your level.

Her long, slim fingers ran through the strands of your hair in a gentle manner.

“Your agony is exquisite.” She breathed out.

Her hand moved to cup your cheek, the gesture seeming almost reverent in nature. The pad of her thumb brushed away a single, lone tear off your cheek and then brought it up to her mouth, lapping at it with the tip of her tongue. Lucifer let out a satisfied moan at the taste.

“I knew you would be perfect for me.” Her eyes were lidded with lust as she stared down at you. “The moment my gaze laid upon you, I just knew I had to have you all for myself.”

The next words she uttered had your stomach swirling in horror.

“Corrupting you will be the sweetest of all pleasures.” Lucifer purred, her eerily white teeth beaming back at you from behind pink lips.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #the sandman lucifer #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman lucifer x reader #the sandman #the sandman morpheus

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vampiresbloodx · 1 year

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Key words: ♡ fluff | * smut | ☆ dark! Fic | ✧ angst

Updated: 31/03/2023

I do not give you permission to repost/translate my works onto any other site that isnt tumblr, if you see my work elsewhere just let me know.

Larissa weems x Reader

One shots:

I think I've fallen under your spell *

summary: You only want to be the best assistant for your boss, and larissa, always has a special task for you.

Jealousy, Jealousy *

summary: Larissa knows you belong to her, but sometimes she feels its necessary to remind that pretty head of yours who is your wife and let everybody else know who you're married too.

Marks of her love on your skin *

summary: larissa will always choose you, even in times you dont choose yourself.

Heaven *

Summary: you finally confess something to your girlfriend, and maybe in the end there was nothing to worry about at all.

Waiting for my love ♡✧

summary: trying to ask out your crush to the rave'n was hard enough, especially when they happened to be your best friend.

She's my collar *

Summary: Larissa has to teach you a valuable lesson.

The professors not so secret lover ♡

summary: there's a not so secret way the professor loves you more than the rest of her students. They make act oblivious to the obvious stares and lingering touches that seem to last a bit longer than normal between the two of you.

Hers *

summary: larissa doesn't like when people flirt with what isnt theirs.

Tame the beast *

summary: always the trouble maker, you havent seemed to change from the last time Larissa saw you. Now she finally gets to put you in your place.

All these years later *✧

summary: all these years later since graduation, every night and waking hour, she spent thinking of you.

The sound of your heartbeat ♡✧

summary: meeting the love of your life at a cafe was the last thing you expected, especially when she turns out to be your little sisters principal.

Bunny *

summary: larissa's roommate, Morticia has the best stress release technique for Larissa on their night out.

A love like yours *♡✧

summary: larissa found love when she met you and she will be dammed if anybody would take you away from her.

Lipstick stains ♡

summary: for years you've admired her from afar, after one night she buys you a drink, maybe you won't regret going out on friday nights.

The perfect way to end a long, hard day *

summary: larissa knows that after a hard day, you will always be there to lend a helping hand to her aid.

I will always be there ♡✧

summary: Larissa has sworn she will never let anything bad happen to you, not by a longshot.

Take a bite *

Mistletoe

Kissing the wine off your lips. *

Blurbs:

I'll take care of you ♡

summary: larissa takes care of sick reader.

Choke *

Lucifer morningstar x Reader

One shots:

Dusk till dawn *

summary: as they fell deeply into the depths of the underworld, otherwise known as hell to most, they didn't ever expect to fall for the devil themself (quiet literally)

My sweet angel *

summary: Lucifer's favorite angel comes to them with a messenger from god and a confession of sorts.

Blurbs:

Sinful ♡

summary: kissing the devil is much more fun than you expected.

Brienne of tarth x reader

Oneshots:

Where is the arrow pointing if there's no target? *

summary: nobody can get in the way of a hunter and marksmans prey.

#larissa weems x you #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems smut #lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman lucifer x reader

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theswordmaiden · 4 months

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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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rippersz · 23 days

Text

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.

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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.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 8 months

Text

belong (nsfw)

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Sumarry: Lucifer is always so very gentle with you.

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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

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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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unmeisenpai · 1 month

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Can someone tell me why she has to look at the camera like that 😍😍 like ser please take me

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 9 months

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You can read this in the morning, but, remember when Brooke and Luci had that fight? Could you write something about that? But, only the make up part?🥰

Hello there @sweeks-blog !! Here’s a little make-up fluff for you ♥️ Hope you Enjoy!

I’m Here, Little one Part 1 ~Lucifer Morningstar xFem Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff, Hurt, crying, implied fighting, little angst, comforting, hugging, snuggling, etc.

Enjoy (;

The bedroom door slammed and you immediately regretted everything that had just occurred.

You ran to your bed and stuffed your face in the pillows, tears streaming down your face. The scent of Luci on the pillows helped you a bit, but it also reminded you of what you had just done.

It was your first fight…

~~~

Later that evening, you heard a light knock on your shared quarters. You had spent the entire day, curled up in tears. You picked up your head lightly at the sound.

“Not right now…” you croaked, assuming it was one of the castle staff or a demon of sorts.

“Little one…? it’s me…” The Lightbringer spoke through the door.

You bit your lip at their words and more tears spilled from your eyes. You had no response.

At This, Lucifer spoke again, “I’m going to come in, Darling…”

They then quietly opened and shut the door. And their heart broke at the sight of you. Your eyes landed on them, and the didn’t look much better. Their eyes were puffy, their hair a mess, and their garments not on properly. You both just stared at a each other for a while.

“I’m sorry”

You both then said in unison. This made the Lightbringer sigh in relief a bit. They came to sit next to you, opening their arms to you. You happily accepted and snuggled into their frame.

“I’m sorry, Luci…” you whispered, repeating yourself through choked sobs.

“No, I’m sorry, little one…” they gently spoke.

Your gaze went up to meet the Lightbringer and you saw nothing in their eyes but love and care. This time, a tear of joy spilled from your eye. You snuggle even deeper into their form.

“I’m here… I’m here…” they softly chanted.

“I love you so much, Luci-baby…” you mumbled into their form.

“I love you too, dearest.”

~~~

Link to Part 2

Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist

#the sandman lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar (the sandman)#lucifer #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer sandman #the sandman lucifer x reader #lucifer fluff #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) x reader #lucifer morningstar #Lucifer Morningstar fluff #sandman lucifer #sandman Lucifer fluff #the sandman x reader #gwendoline christie x reader #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie character #gwendolineuniverse #the sandman fandom

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why-what-no · 2 years

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Lucifer’s Lover Getting Hurt Would Include

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Mentions Of Violence

Notes: I hate it when my own fics make me more obsessed with characters lol

Requested by: @oswinthestrange

As is obvious, Lucifer is a very possessive lover.

If you get hurt, they’ll immediately get involved. Anything happening to you will be treated like it’s also happening to them

If you’re a human, or a less powerful supernatural being, their behaviour is twice as protective.

So your health and safety matters to them.

When it’s a less worrisome injury. Like tripping and bruising yourself, or any other clumsy and accidental self inflicted injuries, they’ll take it less seriously.

Less seriously is still serious, however. They won’t make you do anything until you’re healed

If anyone other than Lucifer goes near you when you’re hurt, you can be sure they will be punished

So keeping in mind that this is how they act when you have a small injury, imagine how they would act if you had a more serious injury…

Lucifer will immediately find who hurt you, punishing them harshly and without end

Any pain cause to the Devil’s lover is a disrespect shown to the Devil. And disrespect isn’t tolerated.

Only Lucifer and their most trusted servants would be allowed around you, you’d be in Lucifer’s presence nearly all the time while you healed

They would never admit it, but you could tell that they were terrified of loosing you. Of loosing the best thing they’ve ever had.

That’s why they’re so protective, and why you tolerate that possessiveness.

Because you know that it comes from their terror of something happening to you.

Taglist: @dark-academia-slut @stygianoir @keengardenprincess @oswinthestrange

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #the sandman headcanons #the sandman lucifer x reader #the sandman lucifer #the sandman lucifer headcanons #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman lucifer morningstar headcanons #the sandman lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #lucifer headcanons #lucifer #lucifer morningstar headcanons #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar

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daydream-cement · 8 months

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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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littledollll · 8 months

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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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