#spn Lucifer x reader

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[gilverrwrites]

first time requester here uhhh could you pretty please with cherries on top do tfw (and maybe gabe or Lucifer? up to you though!) reacting to reader being like, REALLY quiet in bed? Like they’re not holding back or anything, they just genuinely don’t make much noise?

Rating: 18+

Please remember: As long as you're trying, you're doing better than you think.

Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info

Dean: Unless you specify that making noise is a boundary for you, he will see it as a challenge. He’ll find things, moves you like and hammer them over, and, over again to try and get some noise out of you. Or he’ll ask you lots of dirty questions during the deed. High praise, when you do make noise, like he’s trying to condition more noise. He just needs some kind of queue that he’s doing a good job, encouragement, like a dog being told he’s a good boy.

If you state it’s a limit, he’ll respect that, but he needs some other indicator, like red-light/green-light, or some form of physical touch meant to convey a job well done. 

Sam: Won’t really bat an eyelid at it. He’s a very accepting person, and he likes you for you, noisy or not.

If you express to him that you’d like to be noisier in bed, he will happily assist. Asking how you’re doing; how does that feel? What about this? No, no, not until you show me how much you want it. Repeating things he’s learned will get a reaction out of you.

Otherwise, he’ll keep on ploughing as is.

Castiel: If you’re normally a very vocal/noisy person in day-to-day life, he’d be concerned. He’ll worry that he’s done something wrong. When he confronts you and you tell him you’re good, you’re just quiet, he’ll feel so much relief, you’ll see the weight lift from his shoulders. Bless him, he gets stressed.

If you’re not normally a very vocal/noisy person, then he likely won’t notice. There are many, many humans, and they are all strange and unique, and this is just part of who you are.

He is quite chatty in bed however, he likes to express how he is feeling, how you make him feel, and he likes to check on you, so unless you’re happy to have little check ins/chit chats mid sex, you’ll need to express your boundaries.

Gabriel: Very similar to Dean. Evoking noise from you is a game, and he’s determined to master it. Even if that means underhanded tactics. Laughter is just as good, there will be tickling. He will playfully withhold or deny you touches or kisses to make you beg ask for them. Oh, that one little touch made you moan a teeny tiny bit? WE’RE DOING THAT AGAIN!

If you state that it’s a boundary, that’s cool, cool, cool. He can make enough noise for the both of you, he’s a soft, chatty, moaning, mess of an angel in the throws anyway.

Lucifer: Honestly, he probably won’t even notice at first. Like Gabe, he will make enough noise for the both of you. He loves the sound of his own voice, and he often gets lost in the feelings and his own emotions throughout. When he does eventually notice, he’d tease you about it. The ideal reaction is for you to get all shy and frustrated about it, but any provoked response is likely satisfying, he just likes to know he’s having an effect on you.

Michael: Is also very quiet in bed, in fact, he prefers it. His mind is very busy (especially when Adam is in there) and he enjoys being able to turn it off. He just does what feels good. There is no need to perform, and the fact that you respond the same is very validating for him. He will not question, tease, or try to provoke an inauthentic response from you. He will accept you as you are.

[couldyouimagine-that]

Cuddles With Satan

Genre; Hurt/Comfort, Flufffff

Word Count; 1.2k

Warnings; None, just the reader being exhausted beyond belief and Lucifer convincing you to let him hold you while you go to sleep.

Pairings; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

I know that soft!Lucifer isn't everyone's thing, but I haven't found enough fics like this so I am filling the gap myself! I guess he's inherently OOC for being soft, but I've written him as in character as possible if he decided to be affectionate towards the reader. (Also comment if you think I should do something similar with Casifer, I am very much considering it). Enjoy!

Here's part 2!

Masterlist

-

“I know you don’t really believe it yourself, but you are right.”

You had told Dean, Sam and Castiel that it was okay to leave you alone with the Devil. That if he wanted you dead, you would be.

“Besides, why would I kill you? That little moral dilemma that you’ve got going on is far more interesting than your corpse would be.”

That little moral dilemma was that you liked Lucifer. And he knew it.

You were incredibly tired. You didn’t feel well, you hadn’t been sleeping or even eating properly and you had convinced the others to go so that they could get a break from Lucifer’s antics. You knew that if someone hadn’t left, you would have ended up with a full-blown fight on your hands, and you didn’t want to have to deal with the fallout of one of your friends conveniently forgetting that they were nothing more than an insect to an archangel. You’d already had the job of patching up Sam and Dean when one of them got a little too self-righteous and a flick of Lucifer’s hand had sent them both flying. Castiel at least had slightly better control, but you’d had to hold him back from starting something in retaliation more than once. Not that pushing the angel back by his shoulders would actually do anything if he had a mind, but so far it had served as a good enough reminder to stop him from antagonising the Devil.

You turned around to face him, arms crossed over his chest and head resting in one hand, leaning against the edge of the table. Utterly relaxed and confident. He tilted his head just slightly as he watched you, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I need to go and get some rest before I pass out. Please, please don’t do anything while I’m gone.” He stayed quiet, enjoying the look you were giving him, pleading him to help you out. Until you dropped it, huffing a sigh and shaking your head. You were going to fall asleep regardless and you’d rather not be in the main room of the bunker when it happened. You made for the corridor at the back without another word, heading to what had become your room. Naturally, Lucifer followed.

“How about I come with you?” You said nothing, allowing yourself a silent sigh. “What? Two birds, one stone – that way you get to rest and you know where I am and what I’m doing.”

Not for the first time, you cursed yourself for having ever opened your mouth. A few weeks back, whilst sharing some beers with the boys and reminiscing on happier times, talk had turned briefly to partners. Sam and Dean had mentioned that in each of their longer-term relationships, their girlfriends had said they felt safer being held when they went to sleep. You had agreed, saying that you usually also slept better if someone was holding you. The conversation had moved on, that had been it. Apart from the fact that Lucifer had been hanging around somewhere and heard every word, and hadn’t left you alone about it since.

“Not today, Lucifer. Please.” You could hear the smile in his voice when he answered and you knew he’d heard the defeat in yours.

“Come on, Y/N, just this one time. What harm will it do?” He just kept walking behind you when you didn’t answer. “It’s not a one-way ticket downstairs, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ve got far worse on your resume than ‘cuddled with Satan’.” You could feel your fight draining with every passing second.

“Why do you even care about this so much?” You asked at length, leaving the door to your room open out of habit since you were still having a conversation. By the time you considered that maybe slamming the door in his face would have ended the conversation, he had already walked inside.

“Curiosity. Angels don’t sleep, as you know, so I’ve never experienced holding someone until they drift off. I want to know what it feels like.”

You stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. You knew your powers of reasoning weren’t operating at full capacity, but that sounded so… genuine. Gentle. Usually bad things when associated with Lucifer but you were running out of both reasons and time remaining before you collapsed where you stood.

“Come on.” His voice was so quiet, so soft, that you would never again wonder how he had convinced anyone to do anything. You just hoped you were right in thinking that there were worse things you could be agreeing to.

“I- alright. Fine.” You raised your hands briefly in surrender then collapsed onto one side of your bed, faced away from him.

You felt the mattress shift beneath his weight as he laid down behind you, felt his gaze on you as he lightly traced two fingers down your spine. You had to fight to hold back your sigh. His hand moved ever so gently along your side, up to your shoulder where he applied just a little bit of pressure to push you onto your back. His expression was soft, one arm beneath his head as his eyes tracked the path of his hand. He didn’t even have to lean to reach over you and your eyes shuttered when he slipped his hand beneath your back, pulling you over to him with no effort at all. You found yourself pressed against his side, head on his shoulder and with nowhere else for it to go, your arm resting on his chest.

His hand started a gentle passage up and down your back and you gave up on trying to hold back your contented sigh. Lucifer smiled genuinely at the sight. He rested his chin atop your head as he moved his flat palm to your lower back, again pushing gently to reposition you how he wanted. With sleep already winding its tendrils through your mind, you figured in for a penny, in for a pound. You received an appreciative squeeze when you crossed your leg over one of his, and another when you wrapped your arm around his torso, laying your hand against his ribs. You played with his soft shirt for a few moments, moving the material between your fingers, before tucking your face more firmly against his shoulder. Lucifer shifted slightly and you felt the scratch of the scruff on his chin against your forehead and a gentle pressure before he moved back again. Even mostly asleep, that woke you straight back up again.

A forehead kiss? That had nothing to do with wanting to know what it felt like to hold someone as they fell asleep. You looked up questioningly to find his expression caring – caring – and his gaze already trained on you. He would only offer a minute, one-shouldered shrug in response. Just felt like it, the movement said. I don’t really care. You simply chose to lay down again rather than start another conversation, and Lucifer’s chin returned to your head and his hand resumed its path across your back. You eventually let your train of thought go so that you could finally get some rest, but you couldn’t help but wonder what it was going to mean to have Lucifer’s affection.

[luna-writes-stuff]

Supernatural characters and what they want to do on a date, please? ♡

some of these will surprise absolutely no one but I am sO GLAD YOU ASKED ANON

——

Dean Winchester

I feel like Dean would be one of the easiest with a date. He always tries to do the things he wants to, so in a date, it won’t be much different. His perfect date would be a road trip - the length depending on what kind of date it is. Usually, you’d drive about four hours to destination unknown, but there have been occasions where you took a couple days off to travel the country and see some classic tourists locations. Vegas is most often where you end up. He’d take you to roadhouses for food, unless you’re travelling to a town specifically. Then, he’d try to find a restaurant which has food he actually likes. If you know him long enough, he might even let you drive Baby. But only for a short while. And his eyes will be glued on you constantly.

——

Sam Winchester

Sam is an absolute gentleman. He’d take you out to a restaurant, hold the door open for you, slide out your seat, won’t eat before you do etc. Nine out of ten times he has a tiny gift with him, regardless of the situation. It could be a random day and he’d give you a box of chocolates or a bouquet of roses. Again - he’s a classic gentleman. He settles for the classic gifts. Afterwards, he loves to take walks with you, visit a museum or simply sit on a bench with a view of some landscape. During hunts, he is likely to take you out to spontaneous trips to the library cafe. Not the most romantic place to go to, but he knows that his lifestyle makes it difficult for him to get to properly take you out all of the time. He prefers the short in between moments more than the entire night planned out. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like them though.

——

Castiel

Does exactly what you randomly mentioned once. When you had only known him for a handful of weeks, you might have casually mentioned you love something such as going to the movies or visiting a beach, and now - years later - he’d have that remembered and do exactly as you said. Over the years, he learns much of human customs, so it isn’t that he doesn’t know what a proper date looks like. It’s simply that he likes to do the things you like to do. He’d much rather do something you forgot you had ever told him than to plan something out for himself out of thin air. Besides, he always enjoys seeing your reaction whenever he takes you out. ‘How did you know I would like this?’ ‘You told me four years ago.’ ‘?????’ He’s very endearing and can never get enough of the absolute shell shocked expression on your face whenever he decides to make your ideas come true. And it still surprises you after so many times.

——

Charlie Bradbury

No, I am not going to tell you she would not take you to a renaissance fair or an arcade or an impromptu DnD session because she absolutely would. Depending on your personal interests and experiences with either three, she’d definitely engage in it. Your first date would likely have been at a ren fair and it has become a tradition ever since. No - not a ren fair like her LARPing (which was still awesome). She’d get dressed up and offer you her arm the entire time. She’d take you to the medieval eating tents, watch live performances of battle field with you, buys you little trinkets at the marketplaces, lets you try on some cool clothing; whatever you enjoy most. The longer you’re dating, the more often you’d go out. At night when both of you are bored, she’d grab a car and take you to a nearby arcade, lovingly annihilating you in Dance Dance Revolution. When you have a free day, she’d try to introduce you to DnD and her current party. The more you learn about it, the more often you’d get invited to their sessions with your own character. She’d sit beside you, holding your hand under the table as she’d be by your character’s side the entire time. It doesn’t even matter that there are other people too. To you, it still feels like a date.

——

Gabriel

Initially, he’d definitely try to escalate the situation into a Casa Erotica tape, but he’s quick to agree with you once you decline. Most dates are spent in fancy hotels or restaurants of which you do not even know the same. He simply takes you there and you trust him with it. Gabriel is one who enjoys party and clubs, so he’d love to take you to cocktail bars every so often, keeping you close to him constantly and showing you off to everyone. Think hand on your waist constantly, sips of your glass, kisses on your cheek, chin on your shoulder etc. If you aren’t one for crowds or parties, he’d bring the party home or to a hotel chamber. He’d pop up his own little bar, mixing his own cocktails (or mocktails), offering them to you as a dramatic bartender, flirting with you as if he’d never seen you before. He’s also a big fan of taking you to big cities just to enjoy the view. You’d be at West End the first evening and Tokyo the second. He’s seen a lot of the world and loves to share that experience with you (and a lot of embarrassing tourist pictures with ‘I love Amsterdam’ shirts)

——

Lucifer

Whatever he does, he tries to brush it off casually. Did he put all that effort into making a non-poisonous dinner with a made table? Pfff, no big deal. Did he really remember you really liked that one necklace? Yeah, he thought you might like it. He definitely did not take that the moment you mentioned it and weren’t looking. He’s a big fan of the tiny date ideas. Movie night? Absolutely. Oh yes, there is a pit with pillows there but it definitely isn’t there because you love them and he secretly loves to hold you close in them. Going out to the marketplace? Fun! He definitely won’t offer you his arm the entire time and get everything you claim ‘smells nice’ or ‘still need’. He does tiny gestures and tries to brush them off every single time, even after you thank him for it or compliment him on it. He doesn’t brush it off out of his pride or negligence of you - on the contrary. He brushes it off to make it seem as if it is easy for him. He has spent a long time separated from any form of contact and has not known love for the majority of his life. To have finally found you is something completely foreign to him, and he tries to keep you happy so desperately, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he puts too much effort into it. It’s okay, though. You secretly know this.

——

Crowley

Much like Sam, he takes you out on classic dates. He’d show up to your doorstep, even though he can easily enter. He offers you his arm the entire night as he takes you out to dinner, walk the city or take you to that concert you mentioned once. Even better - he got you backstage passes. Your favourite artist in town? Isn’t it great to not have that ticket sale stress anymore? Whatever you do during the date, he makes sure you have a great time. Your pleasure and enjoyment comes first, and if that means he has to eat a place he hates or see a band he cannot stand, then so be it. He won’t make a long face nor express his dissatisfaction. If anything, he might even start to like it purely because you do. He’s quick to associate these things with you as well. Once you mention your love towards a certain dish or city, he keeps it locked in his mind and thinks of you every time someone mentions it. He’ll make sure to give you gifts often enough which go hand in hand with your interests and loves. He knows perfectly what you like and don’t like and always keeps this in mind. He’d never take you somewhere you don’t want to be or don’t like to go.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader)

a/n: again, no one asked for this, but i've been rewatching supernatural and there is something about season 5 Lucifer that just hits the spot for me. this one will be multiple chapters (i swear), a bit on the darker side. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (nothing too scandalous), Soulmates (but not really), follows season 5 storyline, Kinda Depressing, Strongly Inspired by "Preacher's Daughter" by Ethel Cain

Summary: Knowing God has an actual plan for you would be comforting for most people. You, however, seem to be always down on your luck.

PT.2

The foliage is damp with the night's air, water seeping into the fabric of your jeans, as you sit in the low bushes, watching. Smoke still fills your lungs, and grief still fills your heart, Jo and Ellen's faces etched just beneath your eyelids. Tears stain your cheeks, drying slowly on your skin, forming an uncomfortable crust. It's been such a long time since you've experienced loss such as this. One that rips something out of you and refuses to give it back. You must've grown too comfortable since Dean has been brought back, life needed to bring you back down. Your hands hurt from the tight grip you hold on a branch of a nearby tree, nerves locking you in place, as you watch Dean approach the Devil. Except, you're not there anymore. 

It's warm inside Bobby's home, and you've changed out of your past outfit, scattering it on the floor, never to be used again. Still, you can feel phantom moisture on your knees, elbows, on the palms of your hands. Coldness, like nothing you've ever experienced, seeps deep into your bones, taking root within you. No candle, no prayer, no ancient exorcism can cleanse you of the revelations you've seen tonight. Your head feels heavy, when you drop it onto the pillow, as if some weight is pressing you further down, through the comforter, through the bed and the wooden floor. Through all the layers of Earth, until you're right where you're supposed to be. 

It's unfortunate, you thought back then, compelled to reveal yourself from your hideout by one command you couldn't ignore, he looks just like any human. Tall and lean, with a little softness to his body. His clothes were unassuming as well, casual. As if he just took a stroll through the woods from a supermarket. No one told you the name of his vessel, who he was before he said yes, why did he do it. His eyes were ordinary as well. Blue and gray, aged, tired. Human.

It would've been so easy to pass him on the streets, not knowing. He could've been one of the patrons in the countless bars you've visited while on the hunt. Handsome, yes, with an aura of a beaten dog around him, that, in any other circumstances would've made him irresistable to you. You could never refuse a hopeless case, now you supposed you knew why. 

Sam made you tea. It sits untouched on your night stand, steam flowing in dancing ribbons into the ceiling. Somehow, you can't seem to force yourself to drink it, even if you know the intention behind it has been kind. You couldn't eat as well, the smell of cooking coming from Bobby's kitchen reminded you too much of the smell of smoke coming from the exploding hardware store. And his smell. 

Burning coals, cedar wood, jasmine, all of them were pleasant once. Now, you know they will always be stuck in your head with only one association. Lucifer. 

Even thinking of his name brings a wave of shivers running down your back, as you curl into yourself on the bed. Your fingers scratch at skin of your jaw, trying to regain some sense of autonomy. Still, you can feel a phantom of his icy touch, where he grabbed your face like his hands were meant for it. And in a way they were. At least, that's what he told you. 

The demons gathered around the mass grave didn't even react, as you ran out of your cover, pushed to reveal yourself by the sight of Dean's flying body. Because how else would he coax you out, if not through the hurt of your boys? In hindsight, you were glad Dean was unconscious for the most part of this ordeal. After the night's events, it was hard to look him in the eye, you didn't need him witnessing your downfall over your head as well. Sam tried to make his way over to you, feet sliding cautiously through the grass, but suddenly Lucifer's eyes were on you, and you could feel your fate get sealed then and there. 

He clasped his hands in front of him, pursing his lips as he took you in, cowering on the ground, trying hard to find Dean's pulse. 

- You boys brought me a gift - he mused, eyes crinkling with some strange emotion - You shouldn't have. 

One gesture later, you're up on your feet, limbs trembling as he abandoned his shovel in favor of making his way towards you. You're frozen, fear seizing you in a tight grip, and you can't seem to think straight, as you watch him approach. Last day on Earth, you muse, life flashing before your eyes, when he raises both his hands. And then he grips your face, gentle yet confident, and the world around you spins. He's cold, so cold it's unnatural. Your lips fall apart in a silent gasp. 

- Do you know who you are? - he asks in a quiet voice that suddenly makes you understand why he's temptation incarnate - Do you know why you were put on this Earth?

All you can do is stare, confusion creasing your eyebrows. His breath reaches your collarbones, as he lowers his head slightly. You can hear him chuckle to himself. The sound makes you shudder, fear and anticipation mix within your gut. 

- All those years of hunting, struggling... - your life seems so trivial, coming from his lips - It all lead you here, to me. Doesn't that sound lovely?

It doesn't. It most definitely doesn't. Tears of confusion prick at the corners of your eyes, your breathing quickens. Panic settles into your nerves like a paralyzing blanket. Because here stands a threat of magnitude you couldn't even dream of. The Satan, the Devil, Bible's biggest villain. And he knows something about you, that you cannot comprehend. 

- It's really quite pathetic, when you think about it - he muses, hands leaving your face in a flash, as he starts to pace in thought.

Swaying in your place, you risk looking at Sam, his confusion mirroring your own. Dean is still unconscious beside him. There's a thin smudge of blood running down his forehead, and you want to move so badly. You've spent years caring for these boys, being there for them, whenever they needed you. Yet, at this crucial moment all you can do, is stare in horror.  

- My Father's last ditched attempt - Lucifer turns to you with a tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes - To give me my own special little bag of worms. To own, to care for, to change my mind. 

- What?

Your own voice sounds foreign to your ears. Lies. Those had to be lies. He's Satan after all, manipulation was his forte. Yes, that had to be it. Just another, messed up way at getting an upper hand over Sam. 

This time, you nearly scream when he advances towards you, his cold hands immediately finding purchase on your face, covering your jaw and your cheeks. He presses against your face so hard, you have to take a step back as he comes closer still. Sam's figure flashes out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly you feel the rough surface of a tree bark digging into your back. 

- You - for the first time you can hear some tension in his voice, something more than cold indifference - You were made for me, Honey. Just like Sam is destined to be my vessel, you're destined to be by my side. To own, to care. - he repeats those words like a mantra, and you want to throw up at how genuine he sounds.

He smiles at your terror. Tears start to flow freely from your eyes, falling on his cold fingers, skipping down his arms in smudges. His hands start to move, a perversion of a caress, as he ruffles your hair. Your head bounces off the tree, and you try with all your might to free yourself out of his grip. Your limbs flail at your sides, and you crane your neck so far back, your muscles start to strain. He doesn't let go, pressing himself closer, one of his hands coming up to grip your hair. Your nails dig into his cotton shirt, as you push against his chest to no avail. 

- No - you whisper, your rejection falling flat against his unaffected stare - I'd never...

- See, but that's the best part - his sudden enthusiasm scares you deeper, than any passive stare ever could. - Unlike Sam...

You backpedal into the tree again, as he leans closer still. His cold breath mixes with your short, panicked ones, and your stomach churns, when he tilts his head in curiosity, as if he's experiencing this intimacy for the first time. And in a way, you suppose he is. Then, his eyes meet yours, gray captivates you, and you hold your breath on instinct.

- You don't have to say yes to me. 

You're not even allowed the decency of taking a gasp of air, when his lips press into yours. It feels beyond weird. He's unnaturally cold, and there is a sort of unpracticed sloppiness in the way he fights for your mouth to fit against each other. Reminding you of your first, inexperienced romances, he smashes your faces together until you feel both sets of your teeth through the flesh. Then, he pulls back just a smidgen, taking in your terrified face. Something flashes through his expression, and he sighs, leaning back towards you, stopping just short of your left ear. 

- Kiss me like you mean it, or I'll make Dean eat his intestines. 

He looks at you, just once, letting you know this is not a game. Your heart stops. 

Dean's unconscious body starts to move by the tree, and never in your life have you felt so helpless. So, when Lucifer unavoidably leans back down, you give him all you've got. Your body arches, hands come up to his hair, and you will yourself not to feel grossed out by the feeling of his cold tongue slipping past your teeth. It's a fight for survival, you remind yourself, as his hands move to your back, rubbing your skin like a horny teenager in a bathroom stall. The short supply of air you've been granted runs out quickly, and as pressure builds in your lungs, you start to push against the Archangel's chest. He doesn't register what you're doing, not at first, confusing your sudden unwillingness as some sort of late attempt at rebellion. That is, until you bang your fist against his shoulder, letting out a muffled scream. 

Finally, he detaches himself, hair even more disheveled than before. You take a heaving gasp of air, as you brace yourself against the tree, your vision swimming ever so slightly. Lucifer watches you, his body hunched over, as if he's observing some middle schooler's science project. There are new tears in your eyes, just waiting to fall. Your hair is disheveled and your lips are puffy from his unpracticed assaults. His right hand comes up to his face, and he bites on his index finger in thought. 

- You really are human - he muses to himself, and with every fiber of your being, you try to explode his head with your brain - That's no fun, you'll break so easily...

- Fuck you - your words make his eyebrows raise, and he straightens out with a flourish.

- Fuck you - he repeats, mocking your tone - Yeah, I probably will - you watch, disgusted, as he sends a wink towards Sam.

Then, he's back to his shovel, back to his mass grave, where he completes the ritual. 

You can't move, not really, even when Sam tugs on your shoulder. Your head runs empty, realization of your current predicament far from registered in your brain. You stay frozen in your spot, when Castiel arrives, taking the three of you back to Bobby's house. Only, when the Angel's hand pushes against your rib cage, only when you feel Enochian symbols burn into your bones, do you lift your gaze. Apologetic doesn't really cover the way Castiel looks at you, and the pity painted on his face drags you down more than any Devil could.  

Sam is the only one to truly understand, when you fall to the floor, shock, anger and dread spilling out of you like a broken faucet. He's the only one that truly knows how it feels to have your bodily autonomy stripped away by the literal Devil. How it feels to have a threat of such magnitude hanging over you, every day. Which is why, he's the one to lift you in his arms, and get you to the guest room, lead away by the concerned glances of the rest of the men. He's the one to make you tea, bring you fresh clothes. He opens the window when the smell of dinner makes you retch. And finally, he's the one to explain, what really happened back on that hill to the rest of the group.

From your fetal position on the bed you can hear Dean curse, throw something somewhere. All the ways he knows, how to show he cares. Despite everything, it makes you smile, face pressed to the pillow that smells like cigarette smoke and beer. You're doomed. There's nothing you can do against God's plan, and you can feel that thought take root in you like an invasive species ready to destroy every crop in it's path. Still, despite it all, a sense of security falls upon you like a decieving blanket. 

- What sort of a messed up game is this? - Dean screams somewhere in the house, you assume it's at Cass, the only one even remotely aware of your destiny. 

The idea, that God made you specifically to be Satan's personal therapist sounds far fetched at best, but given how the last couple of months have been going, you're more inclined to believe in the absolutely worst scenarios. You don't even need to hear Castiel's response. The sound of glass breaking is telling enough. Then, a door slamms somewhere, and the house falls into heavy silence.

You can't think. Can't allow yourself to fall apart more than you've had already. So, you focus on the sound of your own breathing, interlinked with your heartbeat. Steady, alive. Your eyelids are heavy, eyes burn with drying tears, so you close them and sigh. Exhaustion pinns you in place, sinking you into the blankets. Darkness welcomes you like a long lost friend.

Your boys will find a way, they always do. And Lucifer can't find you, not with the wards Castiel has put on you. You'll have to thank him i the morning, you think, and it's the last conscious thought you have, before slipping into sleep, shivering like an abandoned child. 

[alt0writings]

Only for you~

Lucifer x reader

fandom: supernatural

Note: in my stories "luce" is pronounced like "loose" just so you know :)

When I mentioned looking at his wings he tensed up his mind was running over all the situations. The only conclusion he could think of is I would leave him.

So he denied it, "don't you think we're kind of busy right now?" He says kind of harshly. I frowned "no your right we are busy" I laughed awkwardly.

Since lucifer wasn't showing his wings maybe I could ask michael for a description.

Michael wasn't keen on the idea of telling me, "come on michael tell me!" I begged. He still said no.

I sat down in a chair right next to sam and dean "hey boys, how's it going?"

They both looked stressed "not good we can't find this crucial piece of information." Sam groans and lays his head on his arms which were folded in front of him on the table.

I frown "can I help some how?" I looked over towards dean but he was shaking his head "nothing you can do kid" I sigh and nod.

Sam and dean had left to go hunt a werewolf that has been eating elderly people. I sat in a chair off to the side in the library so as not to disturb micheal and lucifer, it's the first time they had gotten along without wanting to rip each other's throats out.

I was reading my book, as I was nearing the end of a chapter I could hear whispers. I turned the page to act like I was reading when I was actually listening.

"Just show them!" Michael harshly whispered. I heard a growl and a forced bitter laugh "you know I can't do that." Everything was silent after that.

After a while dean and sam came back, "how did the hunt go?" They smiled and hugged me. "It went really well besides the fact we almost died" dean snorts. I shake my head and nod "I'm glad you both are back in one piece" they release me and back up, my face scrunches up "you smell like a wet dog. Go take a shower."

Once they agreed and started walking towards their rooms I took my leave and started walking towards my room.

I opened my door and almost jumped out of my skin, lucifer was sitting on my bed, and was sweating profusely He looked up and rolled his shoulders.

"I need your help" he stood up and pulled me into my room before shutting the door and putting an angel banishing sigil on it. "What are you doing?" I question, he sighs and gently places his hands on my shoulders. "You want to see my wings right?" He says while looking away he seemed.

Fearful.

I nod cautiously, he sighs and pulls his hands away before walking around me towards my bed. He pulls his shirt off, he had a surprisingly toned body he wasn't a bodybuilder and wasn't exactly fat. What was the word I am looking for? Oh right.

Dad Bod. He has a dad bod, he turns and walks towards me. From where he stood in front of me I could feel his breath fan against my face, a slight minty smell.

"Don't freak out." He quietly mumbled as he covered my eyes. A bright light flashed from behind his fingers, he pulled his hand away.

I gasp as I take in the beauty of his wings. There were 3 sets of 6, the biggest were the brightest.

pink mixing with blue while fading into black due to burn damage they looked to be torn. The set below that was a mix of pink and white with small black spots, it kind of looked like a sunrise it was also burnt but it also looked torn as well. His last set was the smallest yet was still bigger than your thigh. It looked to be the worst, half of it was gone but you could tell it was gold underneath all the dirt and grime.

"They need grooming, c-can you do that?" His request went on deaf ears, I was hypnotized by their beauty.

I blink repeatedly "what?" I shake my head slightly before looking up at his face. His cheeks had a pink hue to them, he groaned and released my shoulders "listen I need help cleaning them I don't wanna have to ask michael." He crosses his arms over his chest as if a defense.

I nod "of course I would be honored too luce. I can't believe you let me see your wings." I mumbled the last sentence, not trying to be rude or suggest I wouldn't be honored to do this again.

"Only for you~" he purred out as I ran my hands through his biggest set of wings.

Note: hope you enjoyed this I liked writing it lol

[jokingmisfit]

Heavens Finest

Art By Archangel-Wings on Devientart

Poly!Archangels x Reader

Prompt- “I must be in heaven.”

Sorry it’s so short I wrote it in my car cause y’know homelessness. Enjoy!

The soft music swam in the air giving the perfect ambiance, as Lucifer likes to call it. The perfect combination of food laid out on a large blanket. The lights in the bunker dimmed just right. The rain tapped lightly on the bunker windows.

Our little group sat/laid cheerfully in a neat pile on the blanket. It was hard to get all of them calm enough to enjoy the little experience. It was a compromise from the original plan. 

With neither of the brothers in the bunker each angel wanted to use the situation to their advantage. Michael wanted to have lunch together, Raphael wanted to read and cuddle, Gabriel wanted to eat cake together for lunch, and Lucifer just wanted to sit and bask in my attention.

After a short-lived argument between the boys my best conclusion was to do all of it. Obviously they tried to refuse every idea I had. Eventually it was me crumbling and telling them to forget about it. What I hadn’t expected was to be pulled back out by an apologetic Raphael. They had set it all up themselves.

We long stopped eating as we’ve tired ourselves with a miniature food fight. The jokes and giggles have died down to a calming scene; I lay with my head on Raphael’s lap, my legs held by Michael, and Gabriel and Lucifer laying their heads across my stomach and lap.  

A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth and the eyes I’ve been trying to hold open are slowly closing.

Lowering my hand to Lucifer's hair and turning my face more into Raphael’s lap as I slowly drift off. 

A few moments before I let sleep finally settle over me I whisper without even realizing.

“You four really make me feel like I must be in heaven.”

[miserysinferno]

I write reader insert fics paired with Lucifer, Castiel, Casifer, Mark Pellegrino, or Misha Collins. I also write character POV poetry and prose. I haven't decided what I will share first.

I will not engage in any discussions about politics or tolerate negative comments. Hop on X if you want to insult someone. Don't bring your beef here. Have some self-respect. If you don't like my content, please keep scrollin', not trollin'!

[writtenfan]

Lucifer x Listener

“Getting comfy~”

Your both easing into bed and ending your day mixed with some snarky comments.

[ghoastixx]

SPN Boys w/ angel wing tattoo gn! reader

Synopsis: The Supernatural boys reaction to finding out you have angel wings tattooed onto your back.

Warnings: Mention of possible innuendos

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Dean

When he sees them for the first time, he's suspicious. He's seen angels, knowing how tricky they can get.. Perhaps you were just another trick of Heaven to make him vulnerable. He doesn't like it

Once you both confirm that no, you are in fact not an angel, he chills out about it a bit.

Definitely asks you if you regret it now that you both know how big of dicks angels are.

Doesn't really ask about it. The most he would do is get drunk and ask why you got it but that's it. He really doesn't care much.

As much as he's indifferent about it, he'd eventually grow to adore it.

"Hey! Angel!" Castiel looks over, "No, not you. Y/N."

I personally think he would like to look at them. He would like it if you wore shirts with the back showing or no shirt at all.. He just wants to see them.

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Sam

Much like his brother, he's a little suspicious at first, would interrogate you.

"Y/N," "Yes Sam?" "What's that tattoo for?" "Which tattoo." "On your back." "Angel wings?" "Yes." "Just liked them." "Oh."

He would trust you, especially if you have other tattoos that don't have to do with hunting or the such.

Would ask you about them, constantly referring to them as "Your wings."

A long day of interrogation of a town? He's patting the spot next to him on the small motel bed saying, "C'mere, I'll rub your wings for 'ya."

Messy hunt? "Go clean your wings off, Y/N."

It's even funnier if Dean doesn't know about the tattoo. He's so confused as to why his brother keeps mentioning you having wings. Assumes it's sexual.

He just..adores them? In a way he feels as if you are an angel sent to keep him in line.

He'd rather have you than other angels anyways.

Would 100% call you angel out of it. Forget any other nickname he may of been trying out, you are now just angel.

"So, angel, get this.."

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Castiel

He doesn't understand at first. At all. He will ask you about it.

"Why are you pretending to be an angel?" "Excuse me?" "You have wings drawn on.." "Oh, my tattoo?"

Once you explain it to him, he calms down a bit, but he's still a bit confused. Why did you get it, why angel wings? Why the specific design? Why on your back? Did it hurt? Lots of questions.

He likes them. Why wouldn't he? It makes him feel closer to you in a way.

Dean will refer to you two as "the match made in heaven."

It's cheesy.

I think Castiel would like tracing over them with his finger, dedicating it to mind.

He likes having something in common with you, in a way. He thinks it's endearing.

"Y/N," "Yes, angel?" "Take your shirt off," "Oh-Cas-" "I would like to examine your tattoo."

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Gabriel

Oh this cocky bastard.

He's honored, for starters, or at least that's what he says.

"oh-Baby, what's that you got there?" "Gabriel, what are you talking about." "Those delicious wings you've been hiding from me."

He understands the concept of tattoos more than Castiel does, so he doesn't have too many questions.

He just thinks that they are hot, and honestly he is so valid for that.

"I mean- these are almost better than the real things!"

He likes to tease you about them, since he's in fact the inspo.

But, happy spouse is a happy house, he does constantly talk about how much he likes them. Constantly.

"C'mon sugar, let me see them again, please???" He loves to look at it, touch it, etc.

He gets sad when he remembers you don't actually have wings.

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Lucifer

I do not think he'd be a fan.

Sure, he stands you as a human, but.. a human pretending to be an angel?

"Darling, you realize you're not an angel, correct?" "Yes, Luci." "Just making sure."

Sure, he wouldn't say anything about it to drive you away, but he thinks you have a lot of nerve.

He doesn't like to think about it too much.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley

Bud does not really like them much due to what they represent but he really doesn't care.

He'd go so far as to just call you an angel to go along with it.

he's really indifferent about it :/

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Strange human emotions

Summary: Castiel has been experiencing some rather strange emotions, especially ones that revolve around you.

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: No one really writes about Cas, and it’s a shame because him, Sam and Dean are my absolute favorite. But I hope you enjoy ;)

༺═────────────═༻

He could feel it coming up again, that same burning feeling in his chest that keeps him up deep into the night. Not that he can sleep to begin with, but still the feeling invaded his every thought as he waited for you and the brothers to wake up. 

Cas didn’t know how to explain it, these strange human emotions that he had learned over the years, he didn’t understand them. He knew the ones that you and the boys had taught him, how it helped him learn to express how he felt to others. And he was truly grateful for it. 

But, the ones that he was never taught always worried him. Like when he could feel when someone is staring at him, even though nobody is in the room with him. Or even worse when you are near, or when you touch his shoulder when you walk past him, or how about when you speak to him so beautifully that he feels his stomach churning into a weird fluttery feeling. 

There must be something wrong, Cas would conclude, pacing the bunker’s library in the dead of night. Maybe you had been taken over by a shapeshifter and this was the universes way of warning him. 

Yeah, that had to be it, but how would he tell Sam and Dean that? For Chucks sake you are one of their closest friends, how could he tell them that they would need to kill you?

No. No, he couldn’t kill you. He just needs to figure it out a bit more by morning, he couldn’t just go on a killing spree. It wouldn’t be right. 

But if you were in danger or you are the danger then he would need to speak to the brothers about this. But, how?

Cas sat across from you and Dean, Sam to his right of the booth as he stared out the fogged window. The falling snow momentarily capturing his attention, the way each flake was built uniquely different from the other. 

It amazed him how something so beautiful could end up in a world like this. 

“Hey, Happy meal.” Dean suddenly spoke up, dragging Cas away from the window. “You gonna focus, or are we gonna have to tell you while we fight the sons of a bitches?”

“I’m focused.” Cas told the older man, his hands coming to rest in his lap. 

“Mhm, yeah sure.” 

Sam cleared his throat, turning his computer to face the others as he began to explain the current case to them. “So, Sophia Cocklen had reported her husband missing, nearly a month ago. And as of three days ago both her brother and eldest son have disappeared as well.”

“Has to have something to do with the men,” you spoke up, dipping a French fry in your ketchup before popping it in your mouth. “Because Sophia’s sister, mother and two daughters hadn’t been touched at all over the past month.”

Sam nodded, clicking on another tab as some police reports popped on screen. “That’s what I thought as well, but the thing is that none of them have any bad records on there name. And…”

Sams voice seemed to drift off, running farther and farther from his ears as the same burning feeling began to arise from his chest. He glanced at you for a quick second, the way you looked at your work and took it seriously. The way your eyes seemed to have a small sparkle in them when you spoke. 

And especially the way your hair slightly fell in front of your eyes, hiding that sparkle that made his stomach erupt. It made him want to reach over the table and push it out of your way, just so he could catch another glimpse of…

You pushed your hair out of your face, halting Cas’s thoughts completely. Why was he thinking that? What were you and the boys talking about? Why did his body’s vessel feel so warm and sweaty? Was it getting hotter? What if you had turned evil? What if this was your way to slowly kill him off?

Him. Castiel, an angel of the Lord. Struck down by a woman that was more than likely possessed by a monster. 

“Cas?” You questioned, facing the angelic being who seemed to be almost in a trance. “You alright? You look like your sweaty.”

Cas pulled at the collar of his trench coat, the feeling of sweat sliding down his neck. Boy, did he hate how the human body can physically act when you don’t need it to. 

“Yes,” He told you rubbing his hands against his pants legs. “Yes I’m fine it’s just a little warm in here is all.”

“Really?” Dean asked, taking a quick sip from his lukewarm coffee. “It’s pretty cold in here to me, what about you Sam? Y/n?”

“Dean.” 

“I’m just saying, you gotta focus in, Cas. You’ve been acting real edgy for the last couple of weeks.”

“I’m fine,” Cas told him, trying not to drag the situation down the rabbit hole. “It’s probably just… allergies.” 

The boys and you shred a quick look with one another, knowing well enough that angels don’t have allergies. “Cassie?” You questioned leaning forward onto the table. “You don’t get allergies.”

Cas felt his face warm up, “That was just the first thing that came to mind.” He told you, his fingers fiddling with one another. “That’s what you all do.”

Dean smacked his lips, letting out a quick ok before continuing with his conversation. “As I was saying we need to go and search every place that these men where last seen at. And normally I would say go by ourselves to save them, but I’m not so sure what we are up against just yet. So Sam and I will head down to the bar the brother was last seen and Cas, you and Y/n can go and search the junkyard.”

Everyone agreed to Deans order, quickly finishing up their lunch before they need to head back out. Well almost everyone agreed. Cas sat there in his seat, pondering if he should pull Dean or Sam aside and ask if these feelings he is getting about you is bad or good. Because he does not want to harm others but at the same time he didn’t want to hurt you either. 

He wanted to beat his head against the table, the thoughts that raced through his mind aggravated him. But what could he do about it? Wait… you and him were going to the junkyard to search for clues of the missing family members, he himself could interrogate you there. But, how?

༺═────────────═༻

At the junkyard, you and Cas kept you voices low, barley speaking a word to one another as you inspected the place. Your flashlight shined about the place, scoping out any and all items that could appear useful for the case. 

“So, Sam said that the dad and son used to work here. Almost like a father-son business, you know?” You told him, shining the light in the angels direction, mindful not to blind him in the eye. 

He nodded, unable to stop the fluttery filling the further he walked with you. It was killing him, he wanted to ask you what you were doing, because he knew for a fact it was neither of the boys. But, at the same time he didn’t know how to bring it up. 

On one hand he could slowly bring up the topic, have a simple conversation before he would ask you. Though, on the other hand, he could just flat out ask you if you were trying to kill him. Because, that’s what it surely felt like. That you were killing him slowly and purposefully.

Cas came to a quick decision, he would hold a conversation with you then ask you. Simple as that, no harm no foul. 

“Cassie?” You asked, that soft voice of yours causing his chest to burn and his stomach to twist into knots. What the hell were you doing to him? “Are you alright-“

“Are you trying to kill me?”

You were shocked by his sudden question, his straightforward tone and seriousness catching you off guard completely. “… No?”

“It sure doesn’t seem that way.” He continued to accuse, folding his arms over his chest like he’d seen Dean do plenty of times before. “Would you care tell why you are trying to kill me?”

“But, I’m not?” You told him, voice uncertain and slightly laced with worthy. “Why would you think that?”

Cas glanced around the junkyard, almost as if the answer was somewhere written in the piles upon piles of junk. “My chest has been burning every time you come close to me, or how about when my stomach make me feel like my vessel is going to induce vomiting. When I know for a fact that I don’t eat anything to make it do so.”

You stood silently, letting the words sink deep into your skin. His chest burned? His stomach felt like he was going to throw up? Why the hell would he have thought that you were trying to kill him? It honestly just sounded like his vessel was sick, or maybe he—

You cut your thoughts short, and it suddenly clicked in your mind. A sly smile gracing your lips as you walked towards the angel. “Oh, Cassie~” You sang out, free hand coming to play with the sleeve of his trench coat. “Do you have a crush on me?”

Cas furrowed his brows, eyes dancing across your face as you came closer. “…No? At least I don’t think so.”

A chuckle left your lips, standing up on your tip toes you gave the angel a quick kiss on his check. Watching as a light blush crept upon his cheeks. “I like you too, Cassie.” You turned back to the junkyard, flashing your light at an empty bathtub and broken mattress, leaving the poor angel stuck in his spot. 

Cas lifted a hand to where you had kissed him, the ghost of your lips making his heart stutter in his chest. Damn you, he thought to himself. Damn you and these strange human emotions. 

[gilverrwrites]

Im back on my supernatural shit, can you please do TFW + Gabe and anyone else you wanna do reacting to finding out the reader had a dirty dream about them?

Author note: Me too Boo, me too. I added lucifer, just cause I wanted too. Hope you enjoy! I also switched things up with gifs for each instead of one image for everyone. Lemme know which one you guys prefer.

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: that it is enough to exist as you are.

Dean

You’ve never seen a bigger shit-eating grin in all your life; he looks like he hit the jackpot.

No matter how much or how little you tell him, he won’t stop making jokes or bragging how bad you want it.

Dean I need you t- “Yeah you do.” Stop it! “Bet you weren’t saying that in your dreams last night.” *Gesturing at something even remotely suggestive* “Hey hey hey, did we do that?”

He promises to stop if you give him the full run down.

And when you do, he’s like Christmas came early.

All wide eyes and dopy smiles, occasional blushing.

He’s got a million and one questions throughout, but the final and most is obviously: “You wanna go at the real thing?”

Sam

Immediate shuts down for like 5 minutes. His brain has to comprehend and then reboot.

He won’t joke or make fun of you, at least not in front of other people.

But as soon as you’re alone, he��s got questions, lots of detail-oriented questions.

He’s not outright asking what your dream was, just teasing you with meticulously detailed fantasies of his own posed as questions.

“Did I make you beg for it? Did you make me beg?” “Were you completely naked, stretched out underneath me? Were my hands around your throat?” “What did I say? Did I tell you I would ruin you? That you deserved it? Did you want me to?”

Castiel

Angels don’t dream. Primarily because they don’t sleep.

So, he’s not really sure what to make of this confession at first.

Queue the signature furrowed brow and head tilt.

“Why?” I don’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose! “That’s true. I suppose this is your mind’s subconscious way of informing you that you are sexually attracted to me."

Boy, he doesn’t beat around bushes.

He would need time to stew on it from there.

It could be hours, days, maybe weeks before he brings it up again.

“I am curious about your dream.” What dr- oh right. “I am flattered. Should you be willing, I would like to discuss this more. For example, which of us…”  

Gabriel

You can sense the raised brows and the satisfied smirk before he even does it.

“Reeeeeally?”

Gabe’s reaction is very similar to Deans, just like a Trickster in a candy store.

Only he’ll wait to get you alone before he starts bombarding you.

If you won’t tell him outright, he’ll keep guessing.

And every new guess is accompanied by a costume and/or scenery change.

“Maybe we filmed the newest instalment of casa erotica?” “No? Maybe you paid Dr Sexy a visit?” “Mile high club?” “No? Kinkier? You into a little BDSM?”

I’ll let you fill in the visual blanks. 😉

Lucifer

His reaction is a lot more subdued. 

That doesn’t make it any less dubious. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

He’ll ask earnestly enough to start out.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you refuse, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke, or tease.

But the smile he keeps giving you.

The way he watches you, totally engrossed but poised, is enough to drive you crazy.

When he finally asks again, later on, in that low, relaxed tone:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about your dirty little fantasies?”

Temptation really is his game.

[couldyouimagine-that]

Shattered Glass

Genre; hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count; 2.1k

Warnings; mention of nightmares, talk of injuries (reader removes glass from Lucifer’s wing, not explicitly described)

Pairing; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

Lucifer goes to the reader for help with an injured wing and the reader shows him some kindness despite everything. Lucifer makes an attempt at reciprocating it.

This is the longest piece I’ve written in a while and I had a lot of fun writing it. Enjoy!

Masterlist

-

You were laying on top of your bed in the bunker, a drink in hand and trying to read something to distract yourself from everything which was going on. It was easier said than done, but you were planning on going to sleep soon and you wanted to calm yourself first to have the best chance of getting actual rest, rather than just a series of nightmares. Too many times had you ended up alone in the kitchen at some ungodly hour wishing your brain would stop sabotaging you. But not tonight; you had decided.

A knock at your door interrupted your efforts, though you assumed it was nothing dire from the lack of urgency. You called out that it was okay to come in, expecting Dean or Sam, or even Castiel at a stretch. What you got was Lucifer.

He offered a slightly sheepish grin as you sat up, book forgotten and mouth open slightly in shock. He slid through the open door and closed it behind him, leaning back against it and keeping a hand on the handle. You blinked a few times, mind whirring as you tried to decide what was going on.

“Can I help you?” You settled on at length when he made no move to speak. His gaze on you was intense, his jaw tightening.

“Actually, yes. See I have this problem.” You stayed still as he began to walk over to you, steps slow and hands clearly devoid of weaponry. Not that he would need any, but it was at least slightly reassuring. “When we were fighting those demons earlier, I used my grace to torch the last few. Remember?” You nodded that you did. “Well, when I use my grace, my wings manifest in shadow. And that’s usually fine.”

By this point, he was standing right next to your bed. You had to crane your neck to look up at him and found that his eyes were still locked on yours. He made a sweeping gesture with the hand closest to your bed.

“May I?” You thought rapidly, but with no knowledge of what this was about, you had no idea what was for the best. You ended up just scooting back a little to give him more space, though you were sure you should have simply kicked him out by now. Dean would be running for the archangel blade right that second if he knew. But he didn’t, and the light smile Lucifer offered you in thanks was not what you had been expecting. “This time though – well, it’s such a small thing it’s stupid.” You stayed quiet, watching him deliberate on what to say next. Thinking about why he was trying to avoid saying what he actually came here to say. Was he nervous? He took in sharp breath, muttering, “Right, just get it out.” Then, louder, “My power shattered a few windows behind me when I had my wings out. Some of the glass got stuck at the base of one of them and I can’t get it out myself, and I can't heal it while it's still in there.” He looked at you expectantly, lips tight. You felt your eyes narrow a little in response, assessing him.

“And you want me to get it out?” He spread his hands in a motion you would have said meant thank god coming from any other being.

“Finally. Would you? You know what Sam and Dean are like. And Cassie, well… I just don’t think he would.”

Your jaw worked for a moment as you watched him. For you to do any kind of first aid on his wings, he would have to manifest them fully, which you didn’t even know was a possibility. You had spoken to Castiel about an angel’s wings more than once and from your conversations, you knew they were sacred. You were sure Lucifer wouldn’t treat his own wings carelessly, which meant that showing them to anyone, let alone allowing someone to touch them, required a great deal of trust. Even if this was the Devil who you were dealing with. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had chosen to trust you. He raised his eyebrows to encourage an answer when you didn’t immediately give him one. Still more than a little confused, you started nodding.

“Okay. I can do that.” You spoke slowly, but he seemed more than eager to just get it over with.

He offered you a cocky smirk that you were now certain was fake, before he turned away from you. You watched as he dropped his button up from his shoulders then pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his back to you. Your gaze traced along the contours of his back and shoulders somewhat absently, until he glanced over at you.

“Get out of the way, I don’t want to knock you out.”

That was all the warning you got as blinding angelic light filled the room, leaving your eyes smarting. You squinted heavily, failing to regain your ability to see when you heard an exasperated sigh and felt a light, fleeting pressure on your forehead. Your vision cleared instantaneously, in time to see Lucifer’s retreating hand and then – his wings. They were pure white, near perfectly kempt in spite of everything he had been through and impossibly huge. You were sure you had gasped, barely able to comprehend that they practically reached across the whole room. The end primaries curved powerfully, almost as long as you were tall. And they looked heavy, but they melded seamlessly with Lucifer’s back and he seemed not to notice their weight at all. He felt the mattress shift as you kneeled behind him speechlessly, and he drummed his fingers sharply on the bedframe.

“Come on, Y/N, daylight’s wasting. Things to do-”

“They’re beautiful.” His frown was heavy. Your voice had been soft, filled with a quiet wonder he didn’t think he had ever heard from you. The weight of your gaze on him felt like a physical pressure, one he wanted to disrupt.

“They’re what?” His words were harsh as he turned to look at you, but you didn’t seem to care.

“Can I touch them?” Your eyes met his and there was that stupid soft voice again. He should have tried his luck with Castiel, he thought irritably as he turned his back to you once more, presenting silent permission. But your touch didn’t alight on the bloody base of the injured wing. Instead, you ran your fingertips along the top edge of the other one, your touch sickeningly light. He actually bared his teeth with the effort it took not to shudder, swearing at himself silently. He was the Devil! He had lived for eons, he had survived everything that had ever been. And here he was, reduced to nothing by simple touch.

Your hand returned to the muscle near the base of his wing, your movements growing more confident. You lightly wound your fingers between the shorter coverts until your nails grazed the skin beneath, combing your fingers downwards like you would through someone’s hair. And you stopped short at the clipped, low noise Lucifer emitted. Your hands flew to his shoulders on instinct as you leaned forwards to see his face.

“Oh my god I’m sorry, did I hurt-”

You froze yet again, this time in surprise. He met your eyes with a lidded gaze, his chest heaving. He actually had to swallow before he could speak.

“They’re sensitive,” Lucifer ground out, cursing everything in all of creation for the situation he had put himself in, the weakness he had shown to you. You, a human of all things! At least if Castiel had agreed to help, he would have just gotten the job done and left. Or left the glass in place, Lucifer supposed. That was an option too.

You suddenly seemed to realised that you had your hands on his bare shoulders and you lifted them quickly, shrinking back a little. You looked unsure of yourself.

“Sorry, I – I’ll just get on with it. Sorry.” Your words were mumbled as you ducked behind his back and out of the way of his eyes. A few minutes ago, you would have been surprised by how minor the wound was. You would have been more surprised by the hiss which issued forth when you fished out the few small pieces of glass, but you understood now how much it had to have hurt. Uncertain yet again, you laid a flat palm to the area above the injury.

“That’s it, you’re done,” you told him, and immediately a little bit of that angelic light shone around the wound. When it was gone, so was the blood and the damage.

A beat passed. Your hand was still on his wing and he hadn’t moved yet, and neither one of you wanted to speak. It was on impulse and at the risk of a slow, painful death that you cautiously moved your touch back up to the leading edge of his wing. You couldn't help but be enraptured. Your fingers curled over the top and applied a gentle pressure as you ran your hand along in the direction of the feathers, their soft give like the cool scales of a serpent. The whole wing jolted when you reached the joint halfway down, and you could feel the outline of the lightweight bones which held so much power. Transfixed as you were, you had forgotten exactly what was sitting in front of you.

Lucifer’s wings snapped tight to his back as he stood without warning, and you threw yourself backwards to avoid getting hit in the face.

“Enough,” he warned, though his voice was ragged. He flicked a hand and the bloodied glass you were still holding vanished, leaving you to slowly sit up from where you had caught your weight on your elbows. He snatched up his clothes and made for the door without another word, but you scrambled to follow.

“Lucifer, wait,” you tried, struggling to cross the room before he reached the hallway. You laid a careful hand against his back before he could leave, over the ridge of his spine. Nowhere near his wings. And for the moment, at least, he paused. “You know I won’t use this against you,” you breathed, nervous of the implied loyalty behind your words in spite of everything he had done. “Right?” You couldn’t help feeling a little sick when he didn’t answer. Even though it was Lucifer, even though he had killed and tortured and tormented for longer than you could comprehend, he had needed help, and he had trusted you enough to make himself vulnerable to you in order to get it. You didn’t want him to leave thinking you would throw something like that back in his face, no matter what he had done.

When he still didn’t speak, you made yet another decision that you were sure would have bad consequences and leaned forward to wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back in the space between his wings. They drew in tighter still, stiffness radiating from them.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

You went to move back but his hand caught your arms before you could. He felt sure that you would betray him when the time came, but right now, you were the one in danger. You had no weapon that could harm him and you were trying to show him trust in return for his own. A human taking a risk like that with him, he could appreciate.

Lucifer angled a wing over your head so he could turn to face you, his arms encircling your shoulders and upper back and holding you to him. He knew you were being sincere, so for once he just let himself enjoy the moment. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had wanted to be so close to him in such a soft capacity, if it had ever happened when the other person had known who he truly was. You were nervous, yes, but you slowly relaxed into his hold and he allowed his wings to stretch out to a more natural resting position in turn. It was when he realised that your eyes were closed and you were leaning your bodyweight against him that he decided it was time to go.

You almost face planted into the ground when the archangel simply ceased to be present, barely catching yourself against the door. A brief jolt of fear shot through you when you thought over what you had done, but you quickly decided - or at least hoped - that it wouldn't matter too much in the long run.

[luna-writes-stuff]

Hi there! 😀 I've got an SPN preference request: "Imagine being the one to have taken on the Mark of Cain and breaking down in their arms after killing all the Stynes for them killing Charlie." (I know it's a mouthful, but you can rephrase that if you want.)

It’s been a hot second since I’ve watched the MOC arc (it wasn’t my favourite because hoW DARE THEY END CHARLIE), but here you go <3

——

Dean Winchester

Dean might be the most compassionate out of them. Initially, he hated it when you took the mark upon yourself, so when he found out what you lost due to it, he could’ve sworn he had broken down beside you as well. He’d try to whisper some assuring words into your ear as he’d gently rub patterns on your back, telling you that they had it coming. If it wouldn’t have been you who killed them, he would have done it. You know those aren’t just empty words, but promises he would have kept if you weren’t the first. He would be so protective of you afterwards, but protective in the sense of “you can handle yourself while fighting, but if anyone talks shit-“

——

Sam Winchester

Sam had been torn ever since you had taken on the mark, but after voicing his disagreement for a handful of days, he decided to do everything in his power to help you. He feels incredibly guilty considering his ideas on solving the matter, but he’d try to keep a brave face as you broke down into his arms. He was slightly frightened of you after watching you kill Charlie’s murderer, but seeing your eyes water directly in front of him tugged harshly on his heartstrings. After Charlie’s funeral, he’d try to talk with you about what happened, but respects the time and space you need. He will definitely bring it up later though - only with the best of intentions.

——

Castiel

This isn’t the first time he has been faced with the brutal determination of mankind, but it still takes him by surprise. After you run to him with bloodied hands, his first concern would be your well-being, but after finding out you weren’t physically injured, he’d return the embrace, sort of freezing as you sobbed into him - still a somewhat comfortable hold. He’d try to calm you down in any way he can, claiming that he could have helped or things along those lines. After finding out you simply need a shoulder to cry on for the moment, he’d be glad to offer it to you. When you fall asleep that same night, he makes sure to clean up any minor injuries you might have sustained during battle and keeps the bad memories and dreams away from you while you sleep. He’ll let Sam and Dean know you are safe before watching over you all night.

——

Gabriel

Being an archangel, he has seen a lot of battles. Seeing you run to him in your state would not have come as a huge surprise to him, though his initial reaction would certainly be to make sure that whatever danger you had been facing is now gone. As you sob into his arms, he’d sink down onto the floor with you, letting you release all the tension you needed to while he remained quiet. When you finally calm down, he’d ask you about what happened and if there was anything he could still help with. If you refuse to talk about it, he’d accept that, and simply offer you a warm bath to wash off all the grime and blood. When you fall asleep, he’d probably check up on people he knows you have been in contact with, such as Sam and Dean, to hear what had happened. With some explanation, he’d be gentle around you. Not out of fright, but out of compassion. He’d help the Winchesters find something to get rid of the mark, or help in any way he can.

——

Lucifer

Seeing you show up all bloodied would get a chuckle or laugh out of him at first, but when he noticed your crestfallen expression, all laughter dies. His face drops slightly as he utters a “wait, what happened?”. You don’t even have time to properly answer his question before you start sobbing endlessly. He’d gather you in his arms before you can ever near him, placing his hands on the back of your head as he held you close. Some silent curses and threats fall on his lips as he feels the anger and anguish radiate off of you, but he’s quick to change them into quiet hushes. When you calm down, he’ll snap the dirt and blood off of you, simultaneously ridding you of all bruises and cuts your body might have held (he’d casually brush this off). He won’t rest until you finally do. If any of them by any chance would still be breathing, they certainly would not be afterwards.

——

Crowley

He is quick. When you first throw yourself into his arms, he’d be slightly taken aback, but he doesn’t dare to move after you explained what had happened through sobs. The blood on his coat doesn’t even bother his anymore. He’d try to console you through encouragements and words of understanding, claiming he’d ensure that whoever was responsible for this would serve a great time in hell. After you slightly composed yourself, he’d get you to sit down as he takes off your jacket, flinging the dirty clothing into a corner of the room, before checking your arms for any serious injuries. When you confirm that there are no life threatening lacerations on your body, he’d simply nod and hand you a new pair of clothes, personally taking care of the ruined ones you wore. He’d send some demons out there just to check if you had gotten everyone. Only one phone call to Sam and Dean and he would help the pair out on their next best idea to rid you of your raging mark.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader) pt.2

a/n: we're taking a turn for the weirder, next chapter will be slightly more comfort than hurt (you know, as much as i know how to write comfort). for now, all we have is darkness and edginess. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (wow that never fking happens on this blog), Soulmates, Emotional Torture, Biting (not the sexy kind), like...a teeny tiny smidge of cannibalism.

Summary: The psychological torment of being chosen for the Devil tips over as he visits you in your sleep.

PT.1

At first, you're not aware that you're dreaming. A strange haze falls over your vision, as if you've just woken up from a devastating fever. Your limbs sway slowly, like you're treading through honey. It fascinates you, the way the light of a streetlamp flickers over your fingers, as you raise your hand. Bare feet on the concrete, your toes contract, pebbles stuck to the skin. The air feels weird on your skin, like liquid pouring over your form in an invisible cascade. It feels real enough, yet so far away. 

You remember falling asleep on Bobby's guest bed, brought down by the events of the night. What were those events, you couldn't remember, but you can smell smoke swirling in your nose and your eyes are puffy with tears. You sniffle, swipe your hand across your face and feel as if by this simple gesture, your skin has been pulled like fresh taffy. Perhaps you have died in your sleep. The thought is, for some reason, incredibly funny to you, and from somewhere far away you can hear a voice, strangely similar to yours, giggle. It echoes through your skull like a church bell, and you groan at the reverberating sound. 

- Crossroads? Really? - you turn around without any grace in your movement, as another voice rings out right next to you.

Your breath catches in your throat and you can feel all the muscles in your body constric, then relax forcefully, as if some invisible strength was trying to keep you docile. 

There he stands. So human, so plain, it tugs on your heart in a way you were not expecting. Lucifer. His hands clasped in front of him, red spots and abrasions decorating his skin in a grotesque display. Sick, your brain supplies, he looks sick, as if he's starting to rot where he stands, and suddenly, in this strange dream the worst possible feeling comes to surface. You pity him, truly and deeply. Normally you'd jot it down to caring for the poor man he has chosen for his temporary vessel, but here, where reality doesn't exist, you can't force yourself to entertain this lie. Your fingers flex at your sides, a need to heal, to help, pushing at them to come forward, to cradle his face like he did to yours.

God help you, you wanted to help this monster.

Then, his words register in your brain, and you finally look around.

You're in the middle of a cement road, somewhere you don't recognize, and sure enough, there is a crossroad. You haven't been to one in such a long time. Not since Dean got dragged to hell and pushed by grief, you were about to do something unbelievably stupid. You remember begging. Actually begging a demon to take your soul, to save your friend, only to be met with a cruel laughter and emptiness so profound, it nearly broke you. Shame washes through you like a sudden wave, and you try to keep some integrity by encircling your chest with your arms. It does you little to no comfort, and Lucifer cocks his head to the side, as if he's in tune with your emotions. 

- Do you dream of this place often? - Lucifer asks, walking around you at a slow pace.

You don't know how to respond. Do you? Perhaps that is the case, perhaps somehow you've always had some sort of connection to the crossroads, where the most wicked of deals were made. Perhaps it was all his fault, from the very beginning. You nod, once, not trusting your own voice, and the Devil flashes you a quick smile, before his expression darkens, as if he's deeply in thought. There are prominent shadows falling over his face, his eyes sunken even more than you remember. 

- I can't find you - he finally looks up at you, and your heart stops just for a second - You're invisible to me, I wonder, why is that?

Castiel, you immediately think, and you have to look away from him at the memory of your friendly neighborhood Angel carving Enochian symbols into your bones. It's almost like you can feel them, beneath your skin, beneath the muscle and the guts. Not hurting, not really. Just, there. A constant reminder, that you're hunted by a being that feels entitled to your very existence. Being, which is currently taking small steps towards you, looking over your body as if you were a piece of prime meat in a display case at a grocery store.

- You're hiding from something you cannot stop - he says, and you feel the coldness of his breath on your collarbones - It's Dad's will after all. 

That, for some reason, wakes you up from your previous stupor. Shaking your head, you try to take a step back, a litany of "no's" spilling from your lips. To that, he frowns, grabs at your shoulders to keep you in place, and with a sudden wave of horror you realize, you can't move. And you want to move so badly, your body feels as if it's tearing itself in half. White fire, cold burning floods you, when his hands make contact with your skin, fingers skimming over the flesh of your arms, dragging down and down, until they grab at your wrists. 

- I don't want this - there's conviction in your voice you were not expecting, because truly and deeply, you fucking hate this situation, this responsibility which has been placed upon you without your knowledge or consent.

Lucifer laughs an airy laugh.

Gently, as if you're a porcelain doll, he brings your hands closer to his face. He maneuvers your fingers, eyes watching with fascination at the way your knuckles move under your skin. The tendons, the veins, he swallows it all with a greedy gaze, and the coldness of his breath makes hairs stand at the back of your neck. 

- I'm not particularly thrilled by this revelation myself - he whispers to your fingertips - I mean, isn't this insulting? To force me to care for a thing I swore to hate.

You shudder at the sudden harshness in his voice, and his hands dig further into the meat of your wrist. Reminding yourself that this is just a dream, you try to steel your nerves, focus on leveling your breathing, on freeing yourself from his grasp. It's harder than you anticipate, trying to collect any sort of self-preservation, while your mind is cradled by the smothering blanket of whatever dream-magic has been placed on you. 

- But then again, I am a child of an absent father - something akin to mirth flashes through his face, and as he looks up at you, eyes gleaming with something you're too scared to decipher, you're convinced you'll never truly escape him - And such a gift... - he sighs deeply within his chest, pressing the scarred surface of his cheek to your palm - Well, who am I to deny it?

Your face twists into an expression of disgust, and with a whine, you tear yourself away, craning your body as far from him as it is willing to go. Which arguably isn't much. His grip on your body tightens, arms digging into you, as he forces a perversion of a hug onto your unwilling frame.

- I've killed for less - he whispers into your ear, and revels in the way your entire body shivers - You're really lucky, and I don't think you quite realize how much. 

- I don't want to be lucky - painted nails dig into the cotton of his shirt, as you try your hardest to hurt him, force him to back up, or just react to your defiance in any other way than patronizing indifference. - I want nothing to do with you, I don't want you.

To that, he humms low in his throat, and you whimper, as cold lips descent upon the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You can't truly describe the kind of fear he brings upon you, but your entire body seems to surrender despite your best efforts at doing otherwise. Must be magic, you reason. He must've placed you under some kind of a spell, there is no other explanation.

- Don't you think you're being just a tad ungrateful? - he asks, nose dragging along your artery - I mean, here I am, ready to love you, to care for you, to accept you as the gift that you are... - he takes a long drag of your hair, savoring the scent as your knees start to buckle - And you're ready to throw it all away because, what exactly? Because I'm what my Father has made me?

- Because you're a monster, only capable of hurting others - you seethe through your teeth, and immediately get cut off, when presses your bodies tighter together, something worryingly similar to a growl resounding deep within his chest. 

- Is that what you think?

You've made a mistake, immediately you can recognize that. Playing the tough guy in front of the literal Devil, while having no real idea of the supposed bond tying you both together, wasn't your smartest moment. Cold sweat forms on your forehead, when Lucifer extends his hands out, fingers digging into the flesh of your arms. Then, looking at you from that small distance, he gives you a strangely bored look. Like he has seen everything you've done play out in front of him a million times, like he knows all there is to know about you. 

God save you, you hate that look more than any atrocity he has committed. 

- Don't look at me like that - bravery, or stupidity, you can't decide as words leave your mouth in a snarl. - You don't know anything about me. 

- I know all that's important - he counters - I know God made you for me.

He takes a step closer, and suddenly you've grown very tired of this constant dance. His hands massage their way towards your shoulders, where he grips you tight and drags you towards him. You stumble, nearly falling into his chest, but he straightens you out forcefully, like you're some doll he can maneuver all he likes. 

- I know you're rebellious, just like me - his whisper seeps into your very being, as if you've become infected by his gentle tone - You're lonely, just like me.

You want to shake your head no, you really want to, but he keeps you frozen, enchanted by his sudden closeness, and the barely noticable note of vulnerability hidden in his grey eyes.

 Sam and Dean flood your mind. Your boys, your closest friends. The times you've spent together were few and far between, but you cherish them. You truly do. Which is why, your heart breaks at the realization, that Lucifer is right. Despite the bars, and the hunts, and the long drives, you're lonely. Loneliness follows you like a shadow, too ingrained into your bones to ever leave. But not right now, never when he's around. 

- It's okay, you know - Lucifer sighs, leaning down to kiss right between your collarbones - Sooner or later you'll realize, there's no shelter, no hideout where I wouldn't find you. That's true love, babe.

- Stop - a plea slips between your lips, quiet and pathetic, reminiscent of when you've fallen to your knees, begging a demon to bring your friend back.

What you were pleading for this time, you couldn't really comprehend, all you know is, you don't want to do this. You can't do this, and if this really was true love, wasn't he supposed to understand? 

The beating of your hear escalates, when he moves to grab at your face, hands so perfectly fitting alongside your jaw. He turns your head from side to side, as if wanting to commemorate every angle, etch it into his mind. If it were any other man, you'd be over the moon. If he wasn't a threat of catastrophic magnitude, just waiting to end the lives of your friends and everyone on Earth, you would've craned your neck further, given him access. Accepted your fate.

Yet, when his cold lips press into yours, it's so easy to forget why you've been unwilling all this time. He's gotten better at it, you muse, as he kisses your unmoving mouth, trying to pull some reaction out of you. Finally, you gasp, when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth, and bites down hard enough to draw blood. Immediately he takes advantage, thumbs digging into the hinges of your jaw, until you have no choice, but to open up to him. It's nauseating, the way he kisses you, as if he needs to map out the insides of your mouth right this instance. 

Lucifer pulls away so suddenly, for a second you follow his mouth before steeling yourself. Blood trickles down from your bitten lips, and he launches at the small streak. Tongue laps at the skin of your chin, licking off every trace of red, and the sound he makes is downrigh sinful. Then, emboldened by your taste, his hands push upwards, the muscles of your neck straining, as he moves your head back. 

The skin of your throat is exposed and pulled taunt, and your entire body is ready to collapse, when he presses open mouthed kisses along your trachea. Then, as you let out a  whimper, he moves to the side, kissing and licking a line towards your pulse point. He stays there for a moment, dragging his teeth down the cullumn of your throat, hard enough to make you squirm in discomfort. From gentle coaxing, his ministrations took a sharp turn to roughter territories.  

- So sweet - Lucifer muses to himself, taking another whiff of your scent - I could just eat you up. 

Something in his tone of voice startles you. It's not a cute love confession, a cliche line from a romantic movie. From his lips, it sounds daunting, like a promise he can't wait to fulfill. Your eyes swipe downwards, but all you can see is the top of his head, as he dips down to further abuse your throat. He's not gentle by any means, all teeth and no comfort with the way he nibbles at the skin behind your ear. It's pleasurable, or it would be, if it were any other person, or a person at all. 

Then, the air seems to shift, a sinister streak you're not familiar with crawls the lenght of your back, and you tremble like a caught bird in his unwavering grasp. As if sensing the change, his hands switch the hold on your face, supporting the underside of your jaw and chin, pulling up and up, until you have to stand on your tippy toes. 

- Perhaps I should - ringing fills your ears as tears flood the corners of your eyes - Perhaps that will show you, who you belong to. 

And with that, he pulls back. Like a priest raising his cup at the Holy Communion, he raises your head, eyes roaming across the marks he has made on your throat. And then, he dives down, jaw open, teeth glistening in the darkness of the night. 

You can feel it all, as he tears through skin and muscle, sinking into your trachea as if taking a bite out of a ripe apple. Your scream sounds so far away, so muddled, for a moment you can't recognize it's you that's screaming. Then, he pulls back with a sickening, wet, tearing sound, and your voice dies down in a gargle. Blood floods your mouth, spills through your teeth, a waterfall of red soaking your entire front. Through hazy vision you see him chew and swallow, and the sight churns your insides, as you double over, bile quickly making it's way up what's left of your throat.

Except, it doesn't hit the pavement. It lands on the wooden floors of Bobby's guest room. Confusion barely registers in your panicked state, as you roll off the bed, grabbing at the gaping wound in your throat. A wound that isn't there at all. Phantom pain wrenches a series of shouts from you, like an animal caught in a trap. Begging from help. Knowing it will recieve none. The coarse surface of the floor scratches at your thighs, as you push yourself into a nearest corner, tears mixing with sweat on your face. 

That's when Dean rushes in, Sam right after him. Any other day, you'd consider their company a blessing, but right now all you can think of, is what Lucifer has in store for them. How he can hurt them, to get to you. Castiel teleports into the room soon after, and you wish the floorboards would open up and swallow you whole. 

- He was... - you wince, voice creaking like old hinges - He was in my dream.

That's all Sam needs to cross the room and kneel in front of you, gently pulling at your hands, which are still clutching the non-existent wound on your throat. The skin is red and raw, nail marks trail down from under your chin to your collarbones, but there is nothing else.

- I know - Sam whispers, arms encircling you in a warm hug, that just feels like entrapment - I know, I'm so sorry.

Deep down you know, he understands. The weight of being promised to the Devil, the torment he can bring upon a person, the fear. But right now, all you can feel are teeth, and lips, and hands which are too cold to be anything other than a monster.

Castiel has questions, you can see it, in the way his eyes scan the room, fall on your shaking frame, still pushed into a corner. He doesn't ask them, thankfully, opting to gruffly mutter something about checking the wards around the house. Bobby yells from his office, Dean yells back. You try to focus on the warmth coming from Sam's chest. You stay like that for a couple more minutes, before finally, calming down enough to stand up and wipe your tears off your face with a heavy hand. 

- We'll figure something out - Sam supplies his usual response to anything Apocalypse related.

What used to be a hopeful promise, right now sounds more like a hollow echo.

Dean keeps his opinions to himself, chewing on them as he hands you a beer fresh out of the fridge. Only when the liquid freezes it's way down your pipes, you are certain your throat is where it should be. Your brain is coming back as well, rebellion, loneliness, all the traits Lucifer has read from you. They mix with anger, slowly rising within your chest, because fuck that. Fuck him, fuck God and fuck every single entity responsible for your current predicament.

- Yeah - you force yourself to sound convinced - Yeah, we'll kick his fucking ass.

[studiogrimm810]

Speak of the Devil >Finding You // part 1

pairings/characters: (established) sam winchester x gn!you, dean is also there

summary: you are taken by lucifer for over a week and sam damn near looses his head. when you are finally rescued, the trauma of what was inflicted on you has left it's mark and it's up to sam and dean to keep you put together

warnings: torture, ptsd, flashbacks, abduction, graphic depictions of said torture

word count: 4,571

A/N: soooo, i had this idea come to me in a dream but also i'm just obsessed with trauma bonding lolol,,i've realized that this idea is too complex (and comforting) to just do once/one part so i think i'm going maybe work on a part 2 or maybe even a part 3 (eventually) for this one as well...okay, thats all, thanks for reading my rambles!!! <3

read other parts here

———————

The nights were the hardest for Sam, everything so still, calm, settled- it made him itch. He ached for you, but there was only so much he could do.

Dean was in auto-pilot, trying his damnedest to get any info on your whereabouts but he always came up short.

All either of them knew was that Lucifer had you and that was enough to make Sam sick to his core. He knew damn-well what the devil was capable of, he spent over a century learning of just that, so to think of the person he loved succumbed to even a fraction of that made him irrational.

It has now been over a week since you were taken and the boys are finally following up on their most helpful lead at the moment, pulling up to an empty hospital in a desolate neighborhood of Denver.

The building was a classically looking rundown hospital- windows shattered, paint chipped, doors broken in. The sight made Sam’s skin crawl. Usually, he wouldn’t be so affected by the sight of an eerie building but to think this is where you’ve been all this time rots his insides.

Sam takes the lead on this one, wasting no time to break through the front doors and let his eyes scan through the halls. Dean doesn’t say a word as he just lets his little brother storm the halls. He does make sure to be extra vigilant, hoping to catch anything Sam might miss on accident.

They make their way through halls and up staircases, ducking into every room for any hint of you.

The maze of halls inevitably makes Sam’s internal compass spin haphazardly as he starts to lose his placing. Standing at the end of one hallway that spans out into two new hallways, he’s frozen. Dean almost bumps into him as Sam stands still, his hands shaking but body stiff.

“Sammy?” Dean tests, trying to peek around him to get a read on Sam’s face. “Hey,” he calls more sternly this time, placing a firm hand on Sam’s shoulder to spin him towards Dean. “Talk to me.”

Sam turns to face his brother, his features melted into complete helplessness and loss.

Dean knows this look all too well.

His baby brother needs him.

“I don’t know where to go- I don’t-,” Sam shakes his head, his glossy eyes darting between Dean’s own. Dean’s features remain stiff as he takes in his brother's pain, clenching his jaw.

“They’re here, they have to be, and we’ll find them,” Dean states, commanding it to be true. Sam’s heartbreaking contort of painful fear makes Dean’s fury build, to think that not only did someone mess with you, but also his baby brother. It was enough to fuel out just enough confidence to not break down for Sam. “C’mon, pull yourself together,” Dean barks after a reassuring squeeze to Sam’s shoulder, his support being physical and not vocal.

Dean now takes the lead, choosing to go to the right. Sam follows close behind, his breaths so shallow that he doesn’t think his lungs are getting the proper amount of oxygen, but it doesn't seem to matter to him right now.

Another series of halls and rooms digs a deeper pit of dread between the brothers, but Dean refuses to quit for his brother.

They make their way to a staircase that leads to the top and final floor of the building. This has to be it.

Dean sneaks up the stairs carefully, looking up the hall to see a beam of light coming from a room on the far end. Dean turns his head to look down the other side to see nothing out of the ordinary. He quietly steps into the hall and motions for Sam to follow and stay quiet and close to the wall.

When Sam sees the beam of cool light his stomach flips with hope. He could almost feel that it was you in that room.

Halfway there, the brothers hear voices and Dean immediately signals for them to stop.

“He’ll kill ya, I’m tellin’ ya,” a masculine voice warned, which was followed by a more feminine groan of annoyance.

“He would never notice,” the second voice counters, seemingly as a whine.

“Just shut up,” the first voice sounds completely annoyed and down with their partner.

Dean inches closer, step by step, until he reaches the doorway and leans in just enough to see two figures that the voices are coming from. One is sitting in a chair in the far right corner and the other is standing next to a bed while fiddling with a small dagger.

That’s when Dean sees you.

You’re neatly tucked into the bed, a clean and tidy hospital bed with icy white sheets draped over most of your body. Your arms are laid out on top of the blanket, one having a drip of some liquid stuck in your arm. Your face is completely peaceful and devoid from any discomfort.

Dean presses back into the wall and looks at Sam, giving him a curt nod and signaling to get ready. Once Dean gets out his demon blade, he checks to make sure Sam is ready and then he attacks. Storming in and grabbing the farther guard, pressing the blade to its throat and scowling up at him.

“Why did you take them? Who are you!?” Dean roars, keeping his face a stone of anger as he seethes. The man with the masculine voice under Dean’s hold just scoffs with a cocky smile.

“I’m just workin’ a job, bitch means nothin’ ta’ me,” he licks his teeth, sizing up Dean.

“Who do you work for?” Dean emphasized with a mocking sneer. Both him and Sam needed confirmation that it was actually Lucifer who took you.

“I’m not at service to tell,” the man exaggerates with a sarcastically snooty eyebrow raise, trying to sound smart and ‘proper’.

“Too fuckin’ bad,” Dean wastes not time stabbing the man deep through his chest and watching as the skeleton underneath flickers like an electric surge of burnt orange and yellow.

Sam is quick to pin the demon he has to his chest so that Dean has a clean shot to her chest as well, killing her in the same fashion.

The body’s slumped to the ground with smoke rolling out of their mouths and eyes as their corpses are now just an empty shell. Neither brother cares to give a second glance since you’re still hooked up to some IV drip and completely unconscious.

“Hey, hey,” Sam coos, gently cupping your face in his hands, already shedding a few free tears. “C’mon, baby, can you hear me?” Dean grabs the bag to examine it but can only tell that it’s a clear liquid with no labels or indicator. Dean reaches down and carefully pulls the needle out of your arm and presses a piece of the blanket underneath you to the small bead of blood that follows.

The most bizzare thing about this whole setup is the lack of physical evidence of anyone hurting you. The only blemish they could see was the small bruise that surrounded the mark of the needle that Dean just removed. Both of them thought that after you had been gone for so long you’d at least be somewhat damaged, but why would someone take you just to keep you asleep in some abandoned hospital?

What was the purpose?

Somehow this was more terrifying to Dean.

Sam still hadn’t really taken the time to look you over or assess your situation, he was too busy with trying to wake you up.

“Sammy, they’ve been drugged, they’re not gonna wake up just yet,” Dean said softly, realizing Sam needs this moment, “we need to get them out of here.”

Sam sniffles and nods softly, not taking his eyes away from your closed lids.

“Can you carry, ‘em?” Dean asks, looking over his shoulder to make sure they’re still alone.

“Yeah,” Sam’s voice comes out hoarse, his shoulders burdened with worry and ache deep in his chest.

“C’mon,” Dean urges, turning to keep a lookout while Sam gets you situated. Thankfully, you’re fully clothed underneath but Dean avoids you both to preserve your privacy.

As Sam peels back the blanket he’s especially relieved that you’re still in the same clothes he last saw you in, somehow you looked even neater though. The shirt you wore had always had a small tear at the bottom hem but you refused to stop wearing it- now that tear was gone. So were the scuff marks on the knees of your jeans and even your hair looks silkier than usual.

He tries to push away any reasoning of why you seemed pristine.

He instead scoops you up and tucks you close to his chest the best he can, placing a soft kiss to your forehead and following Dean out. He murmurs soft reassurances and praises to you even if he knows that you can’t hear him, he still hopes that you can.

“You’re okay now, I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he kisses you again, keeping his eyes ahead of him and darting around to make sure there are no immediate threats to you.

Sam doesn’t let go of you even when they get to the Impala, even when he and Dean settle on making it a straight shot back to the bunker. Sam doesn’t care if he gets uncomfortable or too stiff because he cannot let go of you, even if he wanted to.

He settled in the car to still have you placed in his lap, arm still cradling your back and other drapes over your legs, holding you close and keeping you secure.

Dean steals glances back at his brother, Sam has barely looked up from you. Occasionally, a few tears fall and Sam will start sniffling, but then it fizzles out until he’s completely silent again.

Hours of driving and you’re still not even responsive and that continues to make Sam sick but he shoves those feelings down because he has to focus on getting you back in your bed at the bunker.

That’s his next step, getting you set back up in your own bed.

That’s all that matters right now.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he’ll always remember the way that Dean beckons him awake- his voice softer than Sam has ever heard him before.

And that makes him feel a little worse, if he’s being honest.

Sam settles you back up in his arms and cradles your stiff body out of the Impala. He blindly follows Dean, now keeping his eyes down on you, silently praying that you’ll just wake up already.

Once he gets you completely settled in yours and his shared bed, an overwhelming sense of dread washes over him.

“Please, baby,” his words interrupted by a stifled sob and he reaches a hand up to cover his mouth, “just wake up,” he begs softly, pushing some hair out of your face and running his thumb over your cheekbone.

He would wait by your side until you finally did just that.

———

White hot. A rod of white hot pierced your stomach for what felt like the hundredth time. It twisted, wrapping your intestines up like a fork in spaghetti. You scream out in pure agony, your eyes lolling open to look down at the rusted pipe that’s lodged in your abdomen. You cry out, biting your lip and sobbing at the sight of your blood dripping out of the end of the hollow cylinder.

Your stomach looked like a pile of ground meat, flooded with blood and singed skin, the stench flaring your nostrils.

You see a hand wrapped around the exposed end and you follow it up to see burning red eyes staring back at you with a hungry smile.

Lucifer himself had subjected you to his torture for what felt like weeks and you were starting to give up any hope at being rescued.

He pulls out the pipe and flicks your blood off the pipe with a laugh that ripples up your spine like clawing bites. He spins his other wrist and just like that the pain is gone- your stomach completely patched over with fresh, unharmed skin.

He pulls back the pipe to hover it over an open flame and then he moves it to leave rings of burns along your exposed skin.

The pain- it’s too much, it’s too much.

You tug against your chains, hoping it’ll just come loose and unravel you out of this nightmare.

As you look back into the Devil's eyes, everything seemed to fade around the glowing red, like a light at the end of a tunnel. The eyes merge into one beam and they slowly dissolve into bright white.

The sounds of his laughter echo and the hold of the chains wrapped around you loosens.

You feel heavier.

You feel… awake.

Your head is strictly iron weight, keeping your body pressed into the soft cushion beneath you.

Soft.

It’s actually soft and you could cry.

Warm.

Oh, it’s warm too. Your fingers instinctively curl into the sheets under you, holding on tight so that you don’t float away from this sliver of paradise that Lucifer has seemed to slip you in.

You refused to question his methods because the peace you felt- no, the bliss was definitely something you’d take advantage of.

You hear your name being called and the sound spikes you out of your trance and sends your heart out of your chest.

There’s some rustling sounds and your name is called again and you feel absolutely hopeless. You can’t go back, please- please. You just got here, you just started to feel okay.

A large hand cups your face and you snap your head away with a sharp inhale, pushing past the heavy weight in your bones and letting your adrenaline surge your movement.

“Woah- hey, okay,” the voice says softly but you don’t even entertain it with patience. You get your eyes open and look around the room quickly. Upon realizing your hands are free from chains, you sit up and hold them to your chest, wrapping your wrists with your own fingers to bind them protectively. Your hair falls in front of your eyes and you refuse to move your hands away from where they feel safe so instead you try to flick away the stands so that you can see.

Your heart is racing and ears ringing, disorienting you further. You barely recognize the eyes staring you down- Sam?

Your chest heaves with frantic breaths as you stare up at him, back pressed to the bed frame behind you. You look around and see that you’re in your room at the bunker.

What? Is this real?

Sam freezes at your reaction, holding his hands out trying to reassure you that he’s not a threat.

“H-hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sam nods, keeping his eyes glued to yours. You make no effort to move, this all just feels wrong.

You look around the room to find you’re both alone. Where’s Dean? If this were real, wouldn’t he be here too?

The door creaks open.

Speak of the… too soon.

Dean's head peeks in to check on Sam but he becomes fully alert when seeing the urgency of Sam’s stance.

“You’re awake,” Dean breathes out relieved, wanting to progress further and hug you but as he takes one step too close your back presses further into the wall behind you with a small whimper.

Your whimper cracks away at Sam’s chest.

“What-?” Dean starts to say but he can’t finish the thought.

“Honey, it’s just us, we’re not gonna hurt you,” Sam shakes his head, letting his eyes look over you for any signs of physical distress.

You swallow thickly as you look between them, a lump building in your throat as you try to choke back a sob. You continue to look around, unable to comprehend where you just woke up from, was it all just a dream?

“A-Am I dreaming?,” you breathe out, your voice unsteady and wavering. Sam and Dean share a quick glance but Sam returns back to you with a frim shake of his head.

“No, sweetheart, you’re awake, this is real,” Sam assures, tilting his head down to keep his eyes level with your unsure ones.

“Awake?” You echo, letting your eyes flick down a bit as you try to gather your thoughts. You look back up at him.

Him.

“S-Sam-.”

“Yeah, baby, it’s me,” he nods, wanting to inch further but too afraid that he’s going to scare you further, but the way you break down- slumping against the wall- he can’t help himself. He reaches out for you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close.

You unhook your binding hold on your own wrists to wrap around his neck. He just lets you cry as he rubs a free hand up your back.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, you’re okay,” he murmurs into your ear. You pull away to look at him again and let out another sob- this one of pure relief. You smile up at him, barely believing this is real but know that deep down it really is.

“Sam,” you exhale, holding his face in your hands so you can really feel him. “H-how did you find me? Where even was I?” You question, wanting to know why the transition from Lucifer’s torture to this felt like waking up from a bad bad dream. 

“Denver, we found you in Denver,” Sam explained, smoothing down some of your hair and appreciating your waking form with every flicker of his senses. “You were kept in some room and had been given medication to keep you asleep, I don’t know how long you’ve been out but we found you almost 20 hours ago,” Sam’s face saddened at the memories but forced those away to focus on how you’re right in front of him now.

“What? I’ve been here for almost a day?” You ask, brow pinched in confusion. Sam nodded.

It didn’t make any sense, you JUST saw Lucifer.

“What about… Lucifer.?” You ask, almost whispering, “where is he?” You asked, starting to feel on edge. You push away from Sam enough to look behind you and all around.

“Woah- okay, you’re safe. Lucifer isn’t here,” Sam says, startled by your sudden shift.

“N-no, he’s here- he has to be,” you stutter, your hands starting to shake and you instinctively bind your wrists to your palms again.

Sam swallows but keeps a firm hold on you, his own past trauma bubbling back up from its hidden pot that he keeps stashed miles away from his regular train of thought. His mind raced through the thousands of scenarios that the Devil put him through and to think of you experiencing just one of them made his heart ache.

“Hey, no one but us is in this bunker,” Dean steps in, trying to be the face of reason for the two under his care.

“What happened?” Sam asked, not acknowledging Dean but just wanting to hear from you. You look up at him, trying to organize your thoughts.

“No,” you shook your head, backed away and rubbed your forehead with your hands, “No, he- I just saw him, he has to be here-.”

“Honey, I promise you that you’ve been here for almost a day and no one else has come through. It’s just us,” Sam explains, his hands on your thighs as he tries to continue to assure you that you’re safe.

“But I just saw him,” you whisper as if you can’t believe it, your eyes drift as you try to shuffle through your thoughts and memories of the past few weeks.

“You’re okay, I promise,” Sam says, keeping his eyes locked on you, “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” At the mention of food, your stomach growls.

You nod softly and Dean offers to get some food for you three, hoping that giving you two some privacy will help calm you down a bit.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam nods at his brother, simply sparing him a momentary glance so that he can keep his focus on you. After Dean leaves, closing the door behind him, Sam asks you another question, “what happened during that week?”

Your confusion is evident as you bring your eyes back up to his, “week? Have I been gone only a week?”

“Yeah, well 9 days technically, but we found you without a scratch,” Sam explained. You could see the dormant fear of what the hell happened to you during that time, “the way we found you was as if you were being preserved.”

You shake your head, not completely understanding.

“No, Sam, he’s been torturing me- constantly,” your words tremble and you continue to rub your own wrists to keep yourself grounded. “H-he would hurt me and hurt me until he needed to erase it all to start over again, h-he wouldn’t stop,” you shake your head, your words spewing out like a fire hydrant cracked open by the ram truck of emotions that went at it full force, “a-and it was weeks, Sam, it felt like weeks and he wouldn’t stop,” you choke out, rubbing your wrists raw.

Sam doesn’t know what to say but he’s worried about the burn you’re giving yourself on your wrists so he reaches out to gently hold your forearms, hoping to separate your hands.

“Y-you’re okay, now, baby, you’re safe,” Sam tries to keep his composure, trying to be strong for you.

“Sa-Sam, the things he-,” you couldn’t even get the words out but Sam practically read your mind. He quickly pulled you into a tight hug, keeping his arms around you protectively. His insides tremble with a whirlpool of fear, regret, trauma, pain, love, and god- so much more that he can’t even focus on right now. But his bones refuse to let him shake, keeping a sturdy hold on the love of his life and hoping that it offers some sense of security or comfort.

“I know, baby, I know,” he spans his hands out as wide as he can to cover every possible inch of your back. “You’re okay, he’s not here anymore, you’re safe,” he lets his palm run up and down the top of your back, right over your spine, and usually this would calm you but once he got too close the nape of your neck you recoiled away, tensing up and refusing to let his hand meet the skin.

He has to force bile back down his throat because he immediately knows why you had that reaction. Something that Lucifer would do to Sam in the pit was grabbing the back of his neck and piercing the scruff to a hook in the cage. Lucifer would often tease the method by tickling up Sam’s neck and digging his nails into the skin, just the thought makes Sam dizzy again. Has Lucifer done the same to you? Sam thinks, forcing his hand back down the span of your back to hold the spots where he only felt safe being touched after his time with Lucifer.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your head. You continue to shake in his arms, trying to piece together why you and Sam have different explanations for your time missing.

You both stay like this for a while, Sam not wanting to let go and you not wanting him to. You end up tangled together on the bed in a peaceful silence. You really didn’t want to talk about what happened or really even think about why or how it did. You were more than content to be in Sam’s arms again, pressed to his chest.

The sound of the bunker door opening made you flinch, worried that it could be anyone or anything. Sam’s hold on you tightens softly, letting his fingers grip your hip a bit deeper.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s just Dean back with the food,” Sam's voice low and sweet. “Let’s go eat, hmm?” He pulls back his head to look at you better. You’re hesitant to leave the safety of your room but you’re crazy hungry so you nod and sit up. Sam keeps his eyes on you as you push up and go to stand. He feels like he needs to constantly keep an eye on you, afraid of what will trigger you out of nowhere.

The two of you meet Dean in the kitchen, Sam keeping his hand on your lower back to guide you through the halls of the bunker.

“Got you a bacon burger with all its greasy goodness,” Dean smiles, hoping his attitude can help lighten up the tension a bit. The small smile that blesses your lips rewards him of that.

Sam pulls out a chair for you, the side of the table that is closest to the corner of the room so you don’t have too much free space behind you.

Despite the hunger gnawing at your gut, you can only pick at your food. You eat a few fries and tear off pieces of your burger. Sam worries when he sees this, but he understands how difficult it must be for you right now so he doesn’t comment on it.

Dean has just polished off his food and Sam made it halfway through his before calling it quits but you’ve barely made much of a dent. Dean gives Sam a silent question, asking if they need to discuss anything now or if it should wait. Sam doesn’t honestly know, but due to how tired you already seem he thinks he’ll just help you to bed and talk with Dean later. That way they can come up with a course of action and recovery for you.

“Are you tired, honey?” Sam asks after wiping his hands with his napkin and setting everything aside. You nod, pulling your eyes up from where they’ve been planted to your plate while you ate. Your eyes plan to go to him but they land on a messy figure across the room with glowing red eyes and that same awful smile that’s burned into the backs of your eyelids. You jump back, your chair scraping the tile on its way to the wall behind you, you take a quick gasp of air and your fear fuels hot tears to your eyes.

Dean instantly looks back to where your eyes lead and so does Sam, standing to guard you from whatever threat it is you see, but they only see the far end of the kitchen where the stove clock flashes the time and nothing seems out of the ordinary. Sam snaps back to you to see you frozen in fear.

“Baby? What is it?” He asks, crouching down to your level and reaching out for your hands.

“H-he’s here, it’s him,” you stutter, gripping your wrists tightly again. Sam looks back out into the room to see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

“Who? Honey, there’s no one there,” Sam shakes his head, scanning over your face for any hint of what’s going on.

No, that can’t be right. You see him. You can actually see him. You drag your shaken eyes to look up over at Sam, mouth slightly agape and tears dripping down your cheeks, “y-you can’t see him?”

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here