#'feed me lucifer'

[soapkaars]

Just a little trip to the beach with my devilishly handsome boyfriend

(I needed to draw this idea before I went to sleep - Alastor and Lucifer beach outfit!!)

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

i just know the boys were all comparing the chocolates they got.

"I had more chocolates in my box." Mammon's gloats proudly while showing off the varying Grimm shaped chocolates off to his brothers. All of which scoff. Except Beel, who is murmuring about how delicious his chocolates from mc were.

"I'm going to savor that taste forever." Beel is ignored.

"Yeah but yours are glorified chocolate coins mine look way cooler." Levi's showing off pictures of his chocolates, because mc's gift had been placed in a glass display box. Various faces for anime characters, of which he names in the order they appear in the box. Various scoffs again.

"Neither of you can beat cat paw shaped chocolates." Satan almost couldn't bring himself to try any of the chocolates. But considering so much work had been put in just to make giving them possible he managed.

"Well mine are strawberry flavoured, and my box is hand decorated." Asmo's box had cute stickers placed all over, nearly matching the same sticker decorations he had put on his chocolate box for mc.

"Only strawberry flavoured? mc made different flavours for me." Belphie's words make a few heads turn, as arguments break out that more isn't better. (Mammon is the one who says it despite the hypocrisy.)

It's all fun and games until when Lucifer is questioned about the chocolates he got, he dodges the question. "I recall hearing Luke in awe of how much detail went into Simeon's chocolates from mc." Now they're all off to see if Simeon's chocolates are better then theirs.

[spicymc]

Let's talk about OM! Simeon.

So I saw a post that brought up that his glow stick color (in the original game) is green for wrath, and left it at they could see it.

Hear me out:

What if he is the closest to wrath, because he is so angry at himself for not going with the original brothers. What if he was 'supposed to be' wrath, but in the fall their Father created it out of Lucifer's wrath, thus making Satan. (I'm sure poetically having Satan being made in the fall is greater than having Simeon be alongside his former brothers, and perhaps he also knows at, as a writer himself).

Just my intrusive thought I needed to get out~

[islanddboyy]

i love that edwin was able to relieve the guilt of the boy who sacrificed him and that he was able to move on from hell to heaven. i love that in the show hell is only your cage as long as you feel guilty and that you can in fact free yourself from your own prison

[allastoredeer]

"At your Command" by OrlesianHat

Radioapple fic where Lucifer and Alastor responsibly negotiate and enjoy the King's ability to command obedience from his subjects.

( ͡º ꒳ ͡º)

And yes, Luci tops.

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOO

[triasticalwarlock]

Little au thing in blood lust I made up

P.S-I am not the creator of this story. It is written by Babygrillbree on ao3 and quotev. Again, I am not taking any ownership over this story. This is just something I made up. Go check out their work, I recommend it.

I didn't include the Vees in this, sorry not sorry.

So, now that that's out of the way. You guy's know how Adam died by nifty's blade? What if instead of Adam, y/n took the hit.

Nifty didn't mean or even want to kill you, you jumped in front of the blade when you where getting out from under the ruble of the destroyed hotel. And you saw nifty going in for the kill, you reacted on impulse, flying your way over to where the two where and you slid in the small space between nifty and Adam, causing nifty to stab you in the chest instead (the reason they got stabbed in the chest and not the stomach is because of the big size difference between y/n and Adam, nifty would have to be fully raising her arms to get to Adams stomach). And that's when shit hit the fan.

When Adam felt the weight of something on his back, he got even more pissed off. Who the fuck would touch him at a time like this?! But when he turned around, the angered scowl in his faced turned to one of horror, immediately recognizing the ears and wings, it was you. All he could do was stand there, frozen. Until he wasn't, quickly dropping to his knees he screams in absolute horror. Gaining the attention of the gang and lute.

Lute screams the way she did when Adam died in the original, but was somehow able to fit even more pain and horror into it. She throws the crying nifty away from your body, which was being cuddled into Adam. But when lute tries to get close, Adam shakes his head at her, shielding you more, now wrapping his slightly trembling wings around your corpse. All she can do is sit there with a look of shock and anger.

Mean while, the gang isn't doing any better. Angel had colopsed on the floor, sobbing and wailing. Husk wrapping his arms around him in an attempt to soothe him, but he couldn't really do that when he wasn't very stable either. Crying as well, struggling to keep his inner turmoil to himself. Charlie was in a similar state to angel, the only difference being her full demon form appearing again. Vaggie crying along with her, though she didn't move, not knowing how to process the situation happening in front of her at the moment. Though instead of sadness, she was filled with anger. And Lucifer, oh deer god. Times what you're imagining by 100. Because it's not even close. He would've came over to Adam and lute to retrieve your body if it wasn't for the fact his anger immobilized him, his body and wings trembling tremendously as memories flash through his mind; those stupid but adorable pranks you pulled on him, when he always cooked with you, when he could cuddle you, when he could feel you, when you were still alive. It's a shame alastor wasn't there, but he'll find out soon enough.

With a angered filled gaze towards the cast, Adam stands with your body in his arms. Calling to the exercise that the extermination was over, flapping his wings with you in his arms as he flys to the portal, lute not far behind. This snaps the gang out of their trance, looking out in despair as Adam disappears with your corpse from their sight.

Once their in heaven, Adam quickly runs to his bed, setting you down. He looks over at you, some where in the back of his head, he knew you weren't coming back. But he had a little bit of hope, walking out of the room, but not before taking a glance at you, and walking off.

Little did any of them know, Sir Penctious wasn't the only one getting a second chance.

Note- good lord I am not okay.

[girlinthetardis04]

Being in multiple fandoms where the characters are based off biblical figures is so funny.

Like

These are all the same person

[mousy-nona]

Prompt/Headcanon:

Yes, yes, everyone loves Alastor being addicted to Lucifer’s blood in this fandom (me too tbh)… but what if,,, the opposite was true? Lucifer being addicted to Alastor’s blood? 👀

It started small. 

Just one lick. 

It had been an accident. He and Alastor had been in the middle of one of their all-out, don’t-stop-til-you-drop brawls. Alastor had started it, because of course he had – he was like the personification of stubbing your toe on the edge of the table, except he was around all the damn time. Lucifer had a vague recollection of yelling at him – “Do you really need to play ragtime jazz at three in the morning? And why are all your speakers facing my side of the hotel?” – and the glimmer of sharp teeth before It Happened. 

Alastor shoved him out of the way with his staff, but Lucifer caught it at the last second and tried to pry it out of his grasp a little too enthusiastically. But Alastor – being the prideful, stubborn sore loser that he was – refused to let go, which meant Lucifer suddenly found himself squashed between an irate deer and the hard wall behind them. 

“Gerroff–” As soon as he spoke, he felt something soft and pliable split beneath the sharp edge of his tooth. 

A second later, something warm and wet touched his tongue. Just a drop.

But sometimes, a drop was all it took.

It was…it was like nothing he had ever tasted before. Like sin and death and the sweetness of apples, all rolled into one. His throat burned, as if he’d chugged an entire barrel of whiskey and stepped up for another round. Everything else he had ever tasted, ever drank, ever smoked, ever kissed faded from his lips entirely. He went in for another lick – but only found empty air. 

Alastor had stepped away, rubbing at the side of his neck. The small scratch he’d made was already closed. Lucifer swallowed, his tongue suddenly a size too thick for his mouth. Alastor’s eyes narrowed, his pupils shifting to twin dials, clearly annoyed that someone had tasted him. That was the kind of thing he did to other people.

And from then on, Lucifer was an angel possessed. 

—-----------------------------

Every time he caught a glimpse of Alastor, the bittersweet taste of forbidden fruit clouded his mind. He hungered. He needed. And he schemed and plotted away for that next fix.

The only problem was Alastor. He was very, very good at plotting – much better than Lucifer was. 

If he crept up behind Alastor while he was chopping ingredients (a devastatingly domestic scene that never failed to make his heart skip a beat), Alastor would put him to work stirring the pot on the opposite side of the kitchen. If he accidentally-on-purpose tried to get close enough to graze him with a sharp claw, Alastor would make very loud insinuations about personal space that would leave Angel Dust snickering and Charlie wide-eyed – Dad, why do you want to get close to Alastor? Ohmigod, are you guys…doing it? What about Mom? 

And as he tried to calm his hyperventilating daughter, Alastor would disappear down the hall, spinning his cane and humming West End Blues.

Once, he got so desperate he just leapt off the stairs, aiming straight for that smooth, slender neck of his – and ended up with a face full of carpet. Alastor re-appeared with one foot ground against the back of his head, the shadows behind him laughing so hard he thought they might laugh themselves out of existence. 

He was going out of his mind. It had been days, and his whole mouth felt like dust. He smacked his head against the bar so hard glasses rattled in their shelves.

“Why, your Majesty, there’s no need to knock out what little brain cells you have left!” Came a merry, smug, utterly punchable voice to his left. He cracked open his eyes, glaring at Alastor’s wide smile, his gleeful, knowing expression. “If there’s something you want…have you ever tried asking?” 

Admittedly, the thought had never crossed his mind.

"Can I...you know..." He gestured towards Alastor's neck, so neatly buttoned and hidden out of sight.

Alastor's eyes flashed green, a ghostly, stitched-up smile hovering just out of sight. "Perhaps. If you're very, very good." He leaned back, satisfaction burning like a brand on every inch of his face. "Only time will tell!"

This time, Lucifer did punch him.

[cuubism]

Okay but AFTER Dream dramatically storms into Desire's realm yelling "WTF did you do to Hob" I can't imagine Desire just...ignored that. They 100% had to go check out this human and see what is so interesting that Dream is all twisted up in knots over him. Can very much picture Desire swanning into the New Inn in their craziest Lady Gaga outfit already drinking a cosmopolitan and introducing themselves to Hob. Because Desire realises that rather than plotting Dream's downfall they can fuck with Dream INFINITELY more by bothering his immortal crush. It's the sibling instinct.

oh. they DEFINITELY will. and like. eventually dream explains his whole thought process, and the fact that desire has fucked with him in the past (hob: dear god why is your family so fucked up), and dream is basically like: DO NOT. ENGAGE WITH DESIRE. IF THEY TRY TO TALK TO YOU. just call me (he still does not have a phone so unclear how this will work) and i'll kick their ass.

critical point: dream did not in any way tell hob how to IDENTIFY DESIRE.

---

The person who struts -- it's really the only word Hob can think of -- over to the bar at the New Inn makes him uneasy, though he can't say why. Hob is not made uncomfortable easily, he's lived too long and been in too many scrapes to feel intimidated in his own pub, of all places.

But something about them makes his hackles rise. The eyes, maybe. They're too cunning.

But he's not in the habit of throwing people out on looks so he just offers a tight smile and says, "Get you something?"

He's tending bar himself, today. Gives him something to do between terms. And he finds himself strangely grateful to have the bar between him and his strange customer as they slide onto one of the bar stools.

"Cosmo, please," they say, voice like sugar halfway to caramelizing, a bit of pop and smoke in the smooth glide.

This is a bit of an odd drink selection for eleven in the morning, but Hob has, at various points in his life though thankfully no longer, done lines of cocaine before even having breakfast, so he really has no pedestal from which to judge.

"Coming right up."

The bar at the New Inn is well-stocked nowadays. Used to be, they served mainly beer and wine, nothing fancy. Then Hob made the horrible mistake of promising his students an end of term cocktail-making class if they came to all the exam review sessions -- because he does actually know how to make drinks, he's been alive for six centuries, thanks very much -- and now it's become a thing and he's stuck doing it forever.

Then Dream took to his drinks, and alcohol is no substitute for food but getting Dream to eat or drink anything is a bloody miracle, so if that anything is the bougiest mixture of alcohols Hob can come up with, well--

Actually. Actually that might be worse than nothing at all.

Makes Dream happy though, so what is Hob to do? Keep ordering luxardo cherries and elderflower liqueur until he outlives them, that's what.

He finishes shaking the drink under the heavy gaze of his guest and pours, sliding it across the table to them.

Hob feels like he's being sized up by a predator as they take a long, delicate sip. The color of the drink matches the pink of their blazer. Hob is struggling to recall if said blazer was actually pink when they arrived.

"Ah. You mix a good drink, Hob Gadling," they say, propping their head on their hand, looking a him from under their lashes, and, ah, so that's what this is.

Hob leans on the bar. "What sort of... entity are you, then?"

Their whole face brightens in what Hob thinks is delight. "Oh! So you are a perceptive one. Get a lot of entities in here, do you, Robert?"

"'Bout as many as can be expected. That's not an answer."

They pout. "Neither is yours. And can't a being just pop by the local speakeasy for a drink without being interrogated?"

"Seems a little unfair that you know my name, and I don't know yours," Hob points out. "Names have power, and so on, isn't that the thing?"

His guest studies him. "You are both far more normal and far less normal than I'd been expecting. Fascinating."

Um.

Before Hob is forced to respond to that, the door swings open to reveal Dream, shrouded in darkness and nighttime and vibrating with electrical fury. Shadows crawl up the windows. All the lights in the inn flicker out.

Oh boy.

"I," Dream says, each word a thunderclap, shining gaze fixed on Hob's guest at the bar, "Explicitly. Forbade. You. From. Interfering."

"What are you going to do, hit me?" taunts the other entity, leaning back on their stool, drink balanced in one hand.

Hob looks back and forth between them, wondering if he should fetch a weapon. He keeps a cricket bat here somewhere, surely...

"Dream, love," he says, once he's decided it's better to try to deescalate the situation rather than introducing further weaponry, "your usual?"

Dream nods, stalking over to the bar. His gaze flits briefly to Hob, softening, before snapping right back to the other being.

"I see you remain incapable of heeding a warning," he says, all ice.

"It's not really part of my nature," they say. "I see it, I like it... well, you get it."

Oh. Oh no.

Cautiously, Hob slides his drink over to Dream. Without breaking eye contact with... Desire? it must be, and thanks, Dream, for the complete lack of description, Dream picks up his drink and downs the whole thing in one long swallow.

Ooooooh boy.

"Desire," Hob says, and they perk up at his realization of their name, looking over at him, "might be better if you were going now."

Desire lets out a frustrated huff. "Ugh, of course. I certainly don't want to upset 'ole Nightmare here."

"You certainly don't want my fist in your jaw," Hob says, more audible threat in it than he intends -- but he remembers Dream's halting confession, about how often love had turned out to be manipulation, and he thinks he should be congratulated on his restraint, actually.

Desire just laughs, and-- ah, Hob is starting to see that there's no winning with this one. Even and especially when you haven't agreed to the game.

"I suppose I'll be going then, before the fists start flying." They slide out of their seat and glide towards the door, waving. "Nice meeting you, Robert! I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again, soon."

I don't doubt it, Hob thinks.

They take their drink with them. Hob's not feeling particularly inclined to chase down that glass.

Dream still hasn't moved. He stares after Desire, empty glass about to crack in his grip.

"Dream?"

"I said that you should call for me," Dream says, the ghost of words.

With what means, exactly? Hob thinks. Damned enigmatic shadow of a man. "You didn't tell me who to look out for."

"Oh." Dream finally snaps out of his daze. "Yes. I apologize."

"Come sit down."

Hob fetches a glass of water and drags Dream over to their usual booth, pushing the water into his hands. "Drink that."

Dream stares down at it. "Why?"

"Because you just chugged a drink you usually sip for hours. Drink."

"I will not get drunk unless I choose to," Dream says.

"Have you tested that?" Hob asks.

Dream's brows furrow. "...No."

"Then let's not do that now. Drink. Come on."

Dream sips at the water. "I am sorry," he says, slowly, "about Desire."

"And I'm sorry I didn't actually punch them," Hob says, making Dream look up at him in surprise. "Well. Sort of. Wouldn't want to make it worse."

A smile tugs at Dream's lips. "You would... defend my honor?"

"Always," Hob vows. "I'd defend you. Don't care if the devil himself has it out for you."

"That may well happen," Dream says.

Hob stares at Dream. Dream stares back.

"Oh," Hob says, or maybe just hopes, "you're making a joke."

"No," says Dream. "Lucifer and I are on poor terms at the moment. She may seek revenge."

Hob keeps staring at him. Dream meets his gaze evenly.

Hob scrubs his hands through his hair. "Lucifer and you..."

Why was it always like this?

When he looks up again, Dream is smirking at him. "You're a menace," Hob tells him. "One day, you're going to give me the full rundown of everyone who has beef with you so I can be prepared."

"That will be a long list," Dream says.

"Of course it is," Hob sighs.

Dream takes his hand as if he can comfort Hob through all of the insane interactions he's sure to have with strange beings in the near future. The worst thing is, it works. Hob squeezes his hand and immediately remembers why he's willing to do anything for him.

"I'd go to Hell for you," he says. "I'd prefer not to, though, if it's all the same."

"That is my preference as well," says Dream.

There's a lot Hob would do for Dream. It's probably unhealthy. But what's the point of living six hundred years if you're going to spend it all being healthy, anyway.

"Why do so many people have problems with you, anyway?" Hob asks.

Hob knows. Hob fucking knows why.

Dream pouts. "Matthew tells me my social skills are 'less than adequate.'"

That's one way to phrase 'you act like an arrogant dick 85% of the time.' Matthew should receive a medal for his tact.

Hob loves that arrogant dick, though, God fucking damn him.

"All the more reason to get me that list, then," Hob says. "Maybe we can prevent you from creating an interdimensional incident."

"Will you accomplish this by threatening to punch them in the face?" Dream asks, completely neutral.

"Okay, you know what? Fair," Hob admits, and Dream chuckles. "Perhaps neither of us is cut out for diplomacy. The point, though, is: of course I'd defend you. I love you."

Dream kisses the back of his hand. As if he's only just now realized what he's done to Hob's pub, the lights all flicker back on.

"Thank Christ, I thought I was going to have to replace all those bulbs."

"Do you think I would do that to you?" Dream says with a tiny smile, Hob's hand still pressed to his lips.

You've done worse than that to me, Hob thinks. Better, too. So much better.

"No, love," he says, "I know you wouldn't."

[vaggieslefteye]

HELL'S GREATEST DAD ↳ from Hazbin Hotel Season One (2024): 1x05 - "Dad Beat Dad"

[lynnslittlelife]

Hii!!!💗💗 I don't usually do requests but here goes nothing 😅

Could I get a Daddy! Lucifer with a little! shy! fem reader where Luci is helping them fall asleep (let's be honest, they both need some sleep 😂, also idk if you're ok with bottle feeding, it's totally ok if you don't want to add that ) Also, if you could use the nicknames Little one, Sweetheart and Pumpkin that would be greatly appreciated 😊 (It's ok if you don't want to) (Also also, I know this might be a bit OOC for Lucifer, but if you add him baby talking to the reader, that would be cool too 😅 again, 100% ok if you don't want to)

I feel I requested too much 😭😅 I apologize in advanced

I promise, you didn't request too much at all! I really enjoy writing these little space stories, and that's a really cute concept! I feel special you don't do requests often! Hopefully I did your idea justice, and thank you for reaching out and requesting this from me ^^ I kept the baby talk a little softer? Not as much of it but there's still definitely some traces of it in there.

Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope you enjoy this soft moment with Lucifer!

Word Count: 1,145

Lucifer was sitting at his desk, trying not to doze off. He had too much to do, and sleep could wait. Sure he was tired, but the sooner he got this work done…the sooner he could fall asleep with you in his arms. Though that thought fell off, when he saw you run into his room in your favorite little outfit. You were cradling your stuffie in your hand, and you had your pacifier in your mouth. 

You seemed confident running into his room just a few seconds ago, but it seemed to fade as you looked down at the ground and walked up to him slowly. Reaching out and taking one of his fingers in your hand, you looked at him fully. The words you wanted to say didn't make any sense. The sentences weren’t forming right, so instead you tugged lightly on his finger and made a small “da” sound. You huffed, and tried to think of what you wanted, but just kept repeating the same sound over and over again behind the pacifier. 

Lucifer immediately set his pen down, spinning the chair slightly to fully face you. He looked at the clock, and raised his free hand to pat your head. “What are you still doing up, pumpkin?” His hand continued to pat your head, only to slowly rub circles on the back of your neck. He knew it was soothing to you, and the realization clicked. He sighed, “I’m sorry to make you wait up for me. I’m proud of you for coming to get me. But we need to make sure you get good rest.” 

You pouted firmly, and shook your head no, but Lucifer wasn’t typically one to take no for an answer…not when it came to your mental wellbeing. He scooped you up in his arms, and made his way to your little room. All the brothers knew it was there, and sometimes even came to visit you while you played with your various toys or coloring books. It had a bed, with an extension to make it seem like an oversized crib. But it was exactly what you and daddy wanted…it helped keep you in little space without worries, and even if you did worry? Daddy and all your bubbas were there to help. 

When he sat you down on the bed, he rubbed your cheek with one of his hands, and tucked you in. The second he pulled away, you shoved the blanket off and grabbed his arm. It effectively stopped him, and he turned to you with a faint smile. “You need your rest, sweetheart.” But he didn’t move to pull away, and instead let you hold his arm as he sat down next to you. “Are you not tired enough yet?” He grinned, and moved his arm so that you were holding his hand instead of his arm. 

You shook your head no, and a couple tears welled in your eyes at the thought of him leaving. He didn’t know what you needed! But how did you say it? You huffed, and only leapt towards him so he had to fully hold you in his arms. An embarrassed blush was on your cheeks, now knowing the words you needed to say…but it was too hard to say it. You didn’t wanna be needy! Asking for stuff was so hard sometimes…

Daddy seemed to read your mind, though. He was always really good at that. “Ah, I see. It’s okay, let me go, just for a second. I’ll stay right where you can see me, I just need to grab your bottle…okay?” He spoke softly, and rubbed the couple of tears you had off your face. But he was patient, and waited for your answer before standing to grab your bottle with your favorite sleepy time drink in it. 

You made grabby hands at him, both wanting his cuddles and the bottle. It made him let out a soft chuckle, and he eased you over so he could rest beside you. He was sitting up, and lifted you to cradle into his chest. One arm was wrapped around your back and side to keep you steady, and the other was holding your bottle. From here, you could nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder and slowly close your eyes from how comfortable it was. It was a familiar position, and you nearly fell asleep right there. But you really were hungry…

Lucifer smiled, and took your pacifier out of your mouth, only to give you the bottle. He held it even, not letting too much of the drink spill out as you slowly drank it. While doing so, he rocked you slightly, and spoke quietly. “You don’t have to wait for dada anymore. He’s right here. He’s got you, and you’re safe.” He tilted his head slightly as you cradled yours into his neck, providing even more comfort. “Daddy’s sorry he had so much work to do, he’s here for you now.” His words were unusually soft, and the smile on his face was tender, genuine. He really was so happy to have you, just as much as you loved to have him. 

You yawned around the bottle, and he pulled it away from you until you reached for it back. His free hand rubbed your back in circles, he hummed softly as he decided to soothe you to sleep with his voice too. “Do you know what daddy loves about you?” He whispered, and you briefly stopped drinking when he spoke. Wasting no time, he answered for you. “Everything. Your smile, your big space, your little space. Everything. I even love how ticklish my baby is riiiiight here.” He reached over to your ticklish spot, and when you jerked away slightly he chuckled. “Don’t worry. My baby needs sleep right now, no tickle fights.” 

He sighed, and your eyes shut tight as you smiled. The bottle was almost gone, but you couldn’t focus on drinking anymore. Lucifer held you tightly through this, and slowly and carefully maneuvered you both until you were resting on top of him. You had one hand curled to your chest with a stuffie, and the other resting on his chest. Lucifer even blinked, yawning himself. Maybe it was a good thing you came and got him. Sure, he had work to do. But you always have been, and always will be his priority. 

While he wasn’t immediately expecting to fall asleep after feeding you, he couldn’t help but do so. He only managed to mutter one more sentence before he drifted off with you. It came out as barely a whisper, but in the sweetest tone anyone would have ever heard from Lucifer himself. It really only goes to show how much he cares about you as much as he says he does. 

“Daddy loves you so much, little one.”

[lyekai]

"i just can't see him as a sub" that's because you're BORING AND TASTELESS

[radarchives]

fine china? i thought you said fine dining 

[melverie]

Honestly at this point it feels like the only way you can win is if you're favorite character is Henry 2.0 because that's the only truly unproblematic one in the entire cast

All he ever does is go blub blub and swim around in his giant ass aquarium and that's about it. Lil guy never did anything wrong in his life

Okay but in all seriousness--you can't even go in half of the character tags anymore because someone decided it would be a good idea to tag their hate post about a character with that character's tag. And I mean if you want to share why you don't like a character then go ahead, you do you. But PLEASE be considerate of others and make sure to not post it in the character tags of all things. That's literally the place people go to enjoy posts about their favorite characters. They shouldn't have to scroll past hate posts 24/7

If you want to share the reasons you don't like a character you are more than welcome to, but PLEASE post it in the main tag and please have the courtesy to leave the character tags alone. It is genuienly so sad to see how some people seemingly cannot be considerate of fans of that character and just post hate in character tags to seemingly cause controversy

The Obey Me community has already shrunk significantly on here, and I'd hate to see even more people leaving simply because they cannot go two minutes without seeing hate of their favorite character in the very tag that's meant to appreciate them

[hopeluna-archived]

"Omg Obey Me! Nightbringer is gonna be full of so much angst!!"

Obey Me! Nightbringer:

[wearyeyebrow]

Concrete

You determine that Lucifer needs a few moments of relaxation. What better way than a back massage and some comfortable conversation?

Tags: SFW, established relationship, suggestive language, back massage, back scratching, scars mentioned, gn mc

"You've never had a massage?" You look at him incredulously.

He folds his hands. "I've given them-"

"But you've never actually gotten one?"

"If I have it was too long ago to remember."

You sigh. "Well... let's fix that. Lay down." You gesture to his bed.

"That isn't necessary-"

"You're tired, you're stressed, and your back hurts - I wanna give you a massage. Lay down."

His eyes flicker toward your outstretched hand. "I'm quite busy."

"Noted," you gesture again, "Lay down."

"You're not going to give this up, are you?"

"I'm making a strongly worded request on official letterhead."

He smirks. "Meaning I could decline, but the implication is that I shouldn't."

"Correct," Your smile is triumphant. "Come," you pat the bed, "Lay down, shirt off or lifted up."

He sighs with good humor and starts to loosen his tie. You grab some of your lotion from his nightstand which has become a collection of both your things and his.

When you turn around he's only in an undershirt and slightly bemused. "How do you want me?"

The urge to request him 'face down ass up' is almost irresistible. "On your front."

He complies, stiff as a board, arms folded underneath his head. You lift his shirt up, exposing scars and twisting muscle. He tenses when you run a gentle hand down his back. "Sorry, my hands are cold."

The bed dips with your weight when you straddle his back.

You can almost hear his smirk, "So this is how you want me."

You lean down and kiss the back of his neck. "I always want you." A slight shiver rolls down his spine. "But right now I want you to relax. I know, I know, it's a lot to ask, but I think you're up for it."

His voice is muffled. "...Do your worst."

You think about how best to start before another thought dawns on you. If he's never had a massage then he's definitely never had his back scratched. How awful, how horrible - the world is truly cruel and unjust.

You rub your hands together to warm them up. "I'm going to start with something that's not quite a massage, but it feels amazing. Just relax into it."

He makes an inquisitive noise but you've already started with one fingernail, slowly tracing a serpentine line down his back. He shudders and you keep going, adding another finger into your tracing.

His back is a rough and textured patchwork of healthy skin and healed gashes; you are reminded again of how much he trusts you. You also wonder whether his initial reluctance had something to do with them. Your blunt nails soothe his nerves as you trace up and down and back again, rhythmic and gentle. You pause and rub some lotion in your hands and start working on his muscles.

Goddamn is he tight. You tell him so and he shrugs. You knew he would be, but his back feels like setting concrete, just barely pliable. You work into a rhythm, massage and then scratch, masage, scratch, gentle soothing motions beneath your strong hands. You take a peek and his eyes are half lidded, focused on nothing.

You lower your voice to a soft murmur, "How has your day been?"

"...Tiring."

"Yeah?"

"No more so than usual. Truthfully I'd tather hear about your day."

"Hm. Well... I cleaned the kitchen this morning with Beel's help. As long as he's allowed to snack he's great help. Belphie, uh,  "supervised."

"Meaning he didn't lift a finger."

"Maybe not, but he did provide fun commentary."

"Tch." You can feel tension ripple beneath your fingertips.

"Hey now, relax, remember? Besides, if you can believe it, Mammon saved the day." You giggle and Lucifer makes a noise of disbelief. "He joined us even though it wasn't his turn. There were so many dishes, you know? Heh, he pretends he does things for his own sake but he's actually very kind."

"Hm..." You push through a particularly stubborn knot and feel him relenquish more of his weight. Slowly but surely tension fades from his body.

"But when we were done I told Mammon I was gonna do some homework and he bounced," you chuckle, "it was for Solomon anyway. He's having me work on advanced summoning with runes, so I needed to spend more time than usual memorizing stroke order."

"...For what purpose?"

"So I can summon you all at once. Even he needs runes to summon more than one demon."

"...Practical."

"I think so..." you work on another stubborn knot near his right shoulder blade, "Then, I got a call from Luke. He asked me if I had a favorite flavor but wouldn't tell me why he asked." You sigh, "Sometimes I just wanna squeeze his cute little chihuahua cheeks."

Lucifer snorts, "Chihuahuas are quite fragile - a good squeeze might kill him."

"Say whatever you want, if you could openly dote on him, you would."

"Is that what you think?"

"Mhm. I think you wanna add him to your collection of little lost boys."

Lucifer tries and fails to stifle a laugh. "How dare you."

"Tell me I'm wrong. You can't."

In all of your loveliness, who else would speak with him like this? He truly laughs and it feels like relief. You snicker right along with him. Eventually he relaxes again and he turns his head to the side. "...He's doing just fine in Simeon's care. I have no need to step in, nor do I particularly want to. Mammon alone needs all of my attention."

"Heh, Mammon, and Levi, and Satan, and Asmo, and Beel, and Belphie."

Lucifer chuckles and you smile, shifting over to scratch his back again. Your hands are tired but spending this time together is more than worth it. He finally seems well and truly relaxed leaving you very satisfied. You slide off his back and sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

He rolls onto his side and looks up at you with hazy eyes. His left cheek is flushed red from pressing into the mattress and his hair is slightly askew. He opens his arms and reaches for you - Lucifer Morningstar making grabby hands is too precious and practically illegal. Satan and Belphie shall never find out. You accept his embrace and kiss him gently as he weasels you into his arms. "That was wonderful, thank you."

You smooth down his hair. "I told you so."

Lucifers deep laugh reverberates through your body. "I suppose you did, in fact, tell me."

"Maybe you should try listening to me more often."

He takes your hand and kisses your open palm. "Maybe I should."