#spn Lucifer x reader

[couldyouimagine-that]

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Genre; Begrudging (on Lucifer’s part) hurt/comfort

Word Count; 1.1k

Warnings; None, just Lucifer wanting to be close to the reader for reasons unknown but hating that that’s what he wants.

Pairings; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

I am back! After who knows how much time. I hope you enjoy, also I have some more Lucifer fic ideas on the way!

Masterlist

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You were in the kitchen when Lucifer appeared silently behind you. He at least made the effort to let you hear his footsteps as he walked over to you, but you still jumped when his arms encircled your waist. Your hands stilled over the coffee you were making, waiting for the archangel to say something. But he didn’t speak a word. A long moment passed while you stayed still, trying to work out what might be going on in Lucifer’s head. An impossible task, of course.

To say it was unlike him would be an understatement. He leaned in until his nose touched your hair, the lightest pressure on the back of your head. Lucifer stayed close, breathing slow and even. He was consciously choosing to breathe. You couldn’t recall a single time he had done that before. When he still said nothing, you raised a hand to hesitantly lay it over his own. When you tried to turn your head to face him, or at least meet his gaze, his grip turned crushing. Why he would come to you while clearly agitated and then utterly refuse to even acknowledge what he was doing, was a mystery.

You leaned back into his chest as best you could, trying to show some kind of trust. Lucifer took a shallower breath before his chin alighted on top of your head. You wondered how he would react if you asked what was going on and decided to wait a little longer. It was when you felt his thumb brush along the side of your ribcage that you had to say something.

You said Lucifer’s name softly, an address and also a question. You felt him shake his head.

“I hate you,” he muttered, his hold constricting yet again when you tried to swing around on him automatically. “I hate how you make me feel, that you make me feel…”

“Feel what?” You asked lowly, irritation boiling in spite of what you were talking to. He was annoyed too.

“Feel something that’s not hate.” That took you a minute.

“You’re saying you don’t hate me.” His silence was answer enough. “Lucifer, what’s going on?”

He mumbled something noncommittal under his breath. There was an entire universe’s worth of events which could have been on his mind, most of which were millennia old. It could be hard enough to understand humans at times. With something like Lucifer, it was probably impossible. You shifted a little, trying to get the archangel to release you enough for you to turn around. He conceded, though he refused to meet your gaze.

With a deep sigh, you simply gave up. You leaned into him, head resting on his chest and arms around his waist. His pause betrayed genuine confusion. You knew you were too soft on him given everything he had done, but your heart ached anyway. Lucifer couldn’t understand why you were trying to support him. He was staring at you openly, hands resting lightly on your back. Knowing he wouldn’t talk to you and caring in spite of everything, you just tightened your embrace. You let more of your weight rest against him, displaying more of a trust you knew you shouldn’t have.

Lucifer almost seemed uncertain after that, when he returned the hug. Even though he had been the one to initiate it. You supposed he couldn’t fathom why you would try to help him at all. Hell knew the Winchesters wouldn’t have been able to. Maybe he thought there was some trick involved, but then, you were fairly certain he could hear your thoughts in at least some capacity. He had to have known you were being genuine.

You had no idea how long you stood together like that, only that your coffee had likely gone cold some time ago. In truth, you couldn’t believe Lucifer was still there.

“I hate humans. But I can’t hate you, and I hate that even more.”

It was difficult to understand a being that wasn’t human, more so when it was in a human’s body, holding you with human arms. What could you even say to that? You thought saying anything at all ran the risk of making him leave, now that he had chosen to be vulnerable. Or possibly incinerating you, so there would be no record of said vulnerability. Since you didn’t have anything useful to say anyway, you stayed silent. You sensed his sudden shift in energy when he became closed off with no warning not a minute later.

“I don’t know why I said that.”

Perhaps even the devil could overthink at times.

Lucifer backed off immediately like he had been burned, uncomfortable and full of a discontent he wanted to dispel. You stepped forward to grab his arm on instinct, thoughtlessly. And promptly remembered what exactly you were doing when the archangel swung around on you, challenge written into every fibre of his being. You thought belatedly that you should probably do something about this apparent care you had developed for him, after you said the first thing that came into your pressured mind.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

The question was so erratic that it made Lucifer pause.

“A movie,” he repeated slowly, verging on incredulous. If he had been less out of sorts, he would have mocked you to no end.

“Just something to pass the time.”

You were far less confident than you sounded. You hadn’t yet had time to panic about the many implications of your offer, but you were scrambling for a way to explain to yourself what you were doing. More so when he scoffed out an acceptance, something along the lines of I’ve got nothing better to do. And that was how you found yourself sitting on a sofa next to Satan, watching whatever had been left in the DVD player by the last person to use it.

It took a while, but he eventually seemed to come to a decision. The next thing you knew, Lucifer’s arm was around your shoulders and he had dragged you against his side. His gaze was locked stubbornly on the television screen, yet again refusing to acknowledge what he was doing. You weren’t going to make whatever was going on with him worse by bringing it up. Instead, you found a way to rest your head on his shoulder and curled into him when his grip tightened in response.

Lucifer didn’t say another word to you for the rest of the evening, but you fell asleep at some point during the movie. When you woke up again, he was gone – unsurprisingly. But what did surprise you was that he had bothered to tuck a pillow under your head in his absence. The incident was never mentioned, but you were sure you didn’t imagine the slightest soft spot the archangel seemed to have for you from then on.

[lillyrob]

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

[whopraysforsatan]

request from @thatid0it666 Maybe Lucifer helps reader out with a hunt. And him seeing reader covered in blood from killing the monster kinda turns him on. And so on. Or something like that.

Pairing: Lucifer! x F!Hunter

Rating: M/18+

The abandoned warehouse reeked of copper and rot. Moonlight sliced through broken windows, casting long shadows across concrete floors stained with decades of industrial grime. She moved silently, machete gripped loosely in her right hand, her boots barely making a sound despite the debris scattered across the floor.

Lucifer followed a few paces behind, watching with undisguised fascination. He could have simply snapped his fingers, reduced every vampire in the building to ash. But where was the fun in that?

Besides, watching her hunt was... entertaining.

A rustling sound from the left had her pivoting smoothly, her body coiled with predatory tension. Lucifer leaned against a rusted support beam, crossing his arms.

"Behind the shipping crates," he said, just loud enough to hear. "Two of them. Thinking they're being clever."

Her eyes flicked to him, then back to the crates. She gave a single nod and adjusted her grip on the machete.

"You could help," she said, voice flat.

Lucifer's mouth curled into a lazy smile. "I am helping. I'm your supernatural radar, remember?"

She didn't bother responding, just moved toward the crates with efficient purpose. No hesitation, no fear. His little hunter was a machine built for killing.

The first vampire lunged as soon as she rounded the corner. Young, stupid, probably turned within the last month. It telegraphed its attack with a hiss. She ducked under its outstretched arms and brought the machete up in a clean arc. The head separated from the body with a wet sound.

Blood sprayed across her face and chest in a fine mist. She didn't flinch, didn't even blink.

The second vampire was smarter, keeping its distance, circling. Its eyes darted between her and Lucifer.

"You're with... him?" it asked, voice trembling slightly. At least this one was old enough to recognize what Lucifer was.

She tilted her head. "Yes."

"Then why - "

"Because my little hunter likes killing things," Lucifer interjected cheerfully. "And I like watching her do it."

The vampire made a desperate lunge toward a side door. She was faster, cutting it off with three quick strides. The machete flashed once, twice. The vampire's head hit the floor with a dull thud, followed by its body.

Blood splattered across her face and neck, dripping down her throat to stain her already soaked shirt. She straightened, turning to face Lucifer. Her expression hadn't changed, but her breath came slightly faster, her pupils dilated.

Something hot and electric shot through Lucifer's body at the sight. His little hunter, standing in a pool of blood with intense eyes and not a shred of remorse.

"There are four more," he said, voice rougher than he intended. "Three in the back office area. One by the loading bay."

A nod, then a glance downward. "Messy."

"Very," he agreed, pushing himself off the support beam and walking closer. The blood wasn't cooling yet, still gleaming wet in the moonlight.

He reached out, dragged a finger down her cheek through the blood. She watched him, unblinking, as he brought the finger to his mouth and tasted it.

"Not bad," he murmured. "Young. Probably ate clean."

Something flickered in those eyes. That strange intensity that was becoming familiar. It wasn't just determination. More like... interest.

"The others?" she asked, her voice still steady, but with a subtle edge to it that hadn't been there before.

"Can wait," Lucifer decided, stepping closer.

No backing away. Of course not. Fear wasn't part of his little hunter's vocabulary these days.

"Efficient," he said, gesturing to the bodies around them. "Clean kills. No wasted motion."

"I've been hunting since before I learned to drive," came the reply.

Lucifer smirked, reaching out again. This time, his hand found a throat, thumb pressing lightly against the pulse. "But never quite like this, I bet. Never so... free."

Her pulse jumped beneath his touch, the only indication that she was affected at all.

"The blood turns you on," she observed, detached even as her body responded to his touch.

Lucifer laughed, a sound that echoed in the cavernous space. "Look who's talking."

He backed her against the nearest wall, hand still on her throat. His touch wasn't gentle, but it wasn't meant to hurt either. Just to control. To possess.

"You didn't exactly object when I suggested this hunt," he reminded her, leaning in to speak against her ear. "Didn't bat an eye when I mentioned this nest had a thing for college girls."

"They needed to be put down," she said simply. "I'm a hunter. It's practical."

"Practical," he repeated, amused. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

He pressed closer, inhaling the scent of blood and sweat and something uniquely her beneath it all. His free hand slid beneath her jacket, finding the warm skin of her waist.

"You know what I think?" he whispered, lips brushing her ear. "I think you like this almost as much as I do."

Her hand came up suddenly, fisting in his hair and yanking his head back. Her eyes, when they met his, were intense and focused. Her breathing had quickened, pupils blown wide.

"Stop analyzing me," she said. Then she kissed him.

There was nothing gentle in the way her mouth claimed his. Just hunger and need and the metallic taste of vampire blood. Lucifer growled against her lips, pressing her harder against the wall. His hand moved from her throat to her hair, pulling sharply.

She bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood and he laughed into her mouth, the taste of his own blood mingling with that of the vampires.

"Right here?" she asked when they broke apart, voice slightly breathless but still steady. "With four more vamps in the building?"

"Adds to the thrill, don't you think?" Lucifer tugged at a belt, working it loose with practiced fingers. "Besides, they're scared. They can feel me. They won't come near us."

Her hand closed around his wrist, stopping him. For a second, he thought she might actually refuse. But then she reached for her machete, dropped in their initial embrace.

"Lock the door," she said, pointing with the blade to the loading bay entrance.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, amused by such practicality even now. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent a surge of power that slammed all the doors in the vicinity shut, deadbolts engaging with metallic clicks.

"Better?" he asked.

Her only answer was to shove him back against a stack of crates, machete still in one hand. The blade came to rest against his throat, its edge cold and sharp against his skin.

"You act like that scares me," he said, not bothering to hide his arousal at the aggression.

"I know it doesn't." She lowered the blade, using its flat side to push his jacket open. "But you like it anyway."

He did. Satan himself, the Morning Star, allowing a human to press steel to his throat. Allowing her to draw his blood. He should have killed her for the presumption alone.

Instead, he grabbed her hips and lifted her onto a nearby table, knocking aside rusted tools and debris. Her legs wrapped around his waist, the machete clattering to the floor as her hands found better purchase on his shoulders.

Moonlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the blood drying on her skin. Vampire corpses lay not ten feet away. And all Lucifer could think about was how badly he wanted to claim his little hunter right here in the filth and death.

"The things you do to me," he muttered against warm throat, tasting salt and copper.

Her pulse thrummed beneath his lips, a steady rhythm that belied the chaos around them.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling hard enough to sting, and he let out a delighted laugh. The pain was nothing - less than nothing - but the audacity of it, the sheer gall of this human woman yanking the Devil around like he was hers to command? That was intoxicating.

He shifted his grip, hands sliding under her thighs to hoist her higher against him. The table creaked under their combined weight, a flimsy relic of human industry that wouldn’t last much longer. “Careful, sweetheart,” he teased, drawing out the word with exaggerated flair. “You break it, you buy it.”

Her only response was to grind herself against him, a move that made his breath catch despite himself. 

He kissed her, hard and possessive, tasting the blood still lingering on her mouth. She met him with equal ferocity, hands clawing at his back, nails leaving marks that would heal in seconds but felt glorious in the moment.

The sound of movement - a faint shuffle from the back of the warehouse - cut through the haze. Four vampires left, he’d said. Three in the office, one by the loading bay. They were still out there, cowering, probably sensing the archangel in their midst and the slaughter he’d allowed to unfold. Lucifer didn’t care. Let them wait. Let them tremble.

She broke the kiss, head tilting toward the noise, her hunter’s instincts kicking in even now. “They’re moving,” she said, voice rough but focused.

“Let them,” he replied, casual as ever, his hand sliding up her side to rest just beneath her ribs. “They’re not stupid enough to come closer. Not with me here.” He leaned in again, lips brushing her jaw. “And I’m not done with you.”

Her eyes flicked back to him, that intensity flaring again. “You’re reckless,” she said, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she pressed closer, her body a contradiction of tension and surrender.

“Reckless?” He laughed, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls. “You’re just lucky I’m in a sharing mood tonight.” His fingers tightened on her waist, possessive and unyielding. “Now, where were we?”

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she yanked his shirt up and over his head in one swift motion, tossing it aside to land somewhere among the debris.

The table groaned again, louder this time, and Lucifer decided he didn’t care if it held. He shoved her jacket off her shoulders, exposing more of that blood-streaked skin, and pressed himself closer, the heat of her body seeping into him. Her legs tightened around his waist, urging him on, and he obliged, hands roaming with a purpose that was anything but gentle.

Somewhere in the distance, a door creaked - probably the loading bay vamp making a break for it. He could feel its fear, a faint pulse of panic that amused him almost as much as her defiance did. “One’s running,” he murmured against her throat, not bothering to lift his head.

“Let it,” she said, echoing his earlier dismissal. Her voice was breathy now, but still firm. “I’ll get it later.”

“We’ll get it later,” he corrected, nipping at her skin just hard enough to make her gasp. “This is a team effort, after all.”

She didn’t argue, just tilted her head back to give him better access, her hands gripping his shoulders like she could hold him in place. As if he’d go anywhere else right now. The warehouse, the vampires, the blood - it all faded to background noise, drowned out by the sound of her breathing, the feel of her beneath him, the taste of her on his tongue.

She shifted suddenly, hands planting firmly on his chest as she shoved him backward with a force that caught even him off guard. He hit the concrete floor with a solid thud, the blood-slick ground cold against his back, and she was on him in an instant, straddling his hips. Her hands stayed on his shoulders, pressing him into the grit and grime, her eyes burning with that fierce intensity he’d come to crave. Lucifer grinned up at her, wild and unhinged, his chest heaving with a laugh that vibrated against her palms.

“Well, hello there,” he purred, voice thick with mock surprise, though his hands were already clawing at her hips, fingers digging into flesh with bruising force. “Someone’s feeling bold.”

She didn’t respond, just shifted her weight, grinding down against him in a way that made his breath catch and his grip tighten. The concrete was cold and rough against his back, gritty with decades of filth, but he barely noticed. All he could feel was her - hot and alive and unrelenting, her thighs clamping around him like a vice. Blood still clung to her skin, drying in streaks across her throat and chest, and the scent of it mingled with sweat and the faint tang of her arousal. It drove him mad.

He surged up, flipping them in one fluid motion so she was sprawled beneath him, her back scraping against the floor. She hissed at the sting, but her legs hooked around his waist again, pulling him closer, daring him to stop. Her shirt was half-torn already, soaked with vampire blood, and he ripped it the rest of the way off, fabric shredding under his hands. Her skin was a map of scars and fresh bruises, a testament to a life spent fighting, and he traced one jagged line across her ribs with his tongue, tasting salt and copper.

“Fuck,” she muttered, voice raw, her head tipping back as his teeth grazed her collarbone. Her hands scrabbled at his back, nails raking red lines that healed almost instantly, but the sting lingered just long enough to make him growl. She was marking him, claiming him in her own brutal way, and he reveled in it.

He yanked at her jeans, the button popping free and the zipper tearing under his impatience. She lifted her hips, helping him shove the denim down just far enough, and then his hand was between her legs, fingers sliding through slick heat. She was soaked, and the realization hit him like a punch - his little hunter, so composed and deadly, unraveling for him in the middle of a slaughterhouse. He pressed two fingers inside her without warning, rough and deep, and her whole body arched, a choked sound escaping her throat.

“Like that, do you?” he purred, his voice a menacing sing-song as he curled his fingers, watching her face twist with pleasure and pain. Her eyes fluttered shut, but he grabbed her chin with his free hand, forcing her to look at him. “No, no, little hunter. Eyes on me.”

She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his, fierce and unyielding even as her breath came in ragged gasps. Her hand shot down, fumbling with his belt, then his pants, and she didn’t bother with finesse - just shoved them down and wrapped her fingers around him, stroking hard and fast. He groaned, low and guttural, his control fraying as she worked him with the same ruthless efficiency she’d used to behead those vamps.

The concrete bit into his knees as he shifted, positioning himself between her thighs. He didn’t ask, didn’t wait - just thrust into her in one brutal motion, burying himself to the hilt. She cried out, a sharp, visceral sound that echoed off the warehouse walls, her body clenching around him like she could trap him there. He didn’t give her time to adjust, pulling back and slamming in again, setting a pace that was punishing and relentless.

Blood and sweat slicked their skin, making every movement slippery and raw. Her hands clawed at his shoulders, his neck, his hair - anywhere she could reach - leaving welts that faded too fast for his liking. He wanted them to stay, wanted her to scar him the way she scarred everything else she touched. He bit down on her shoulder, hard enough to break skin, and she moaned, her hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. The taste of her blood flooded his mouth - human, warm, alive - and he licked it clean, savoring the way it mixed with the vampire gore still smeared across her.

“Harder,” she demanded, voice hoarse, her legs tightening around him until he could feel the strain in her muscles. He obliged, driving into her with enough force to shove her up the floor, her back scraping against the concrete. She didn’t care - didn’t even flinch - just dug her heels into his lower back and pulled him deeper, her nails drawing blood from his scalp this time.

He laughed against her throat, a dark, jagged sound, and slid a hand under her, lifting her hips to change the angle. The new position made her gasp, her body shuddering as he hit something deep inside her, and he kept going, relentless, chasing that reaction. “There it is,” he murmured, mocking and triumphant. “My little hunter’s breaking.”

“Not yet,” she snarled, and then she twisted, using her legs to flip him onto his back again. The move caught him off guard - just for a second - but it was enough. She straddled him, sinking down onto him with a force that made them both groan, and started riding him like she was trying to break him instead. Her hands braced on his chest, nails digging in, and her eyes never left his, burning with that same intensity that had hooked him from the start.

The warehouse floor was a mess beneath them - blood pooling from the vampire corpses, mixing with the dirt and grime, staining her knees and his back. He didn’t care. She was a vision above him, hair wild and matted with sweat, blood crusting on her skin, her body moving with a ferocity that matched his own. He gripped her hips, guiding her rhythm, thrusting up to meet her until the sound of flesh against flesh drowned out everything else.

She came first, sudden and violent, her whole body seizing as a cry tore from her throat. Her walls clenched around him, tight and pulsing, and it was enough to drag him over the edge with her. He spilled inside her with a growl, his fingers bruising her hips, his vision blurring for a split second as pleasure ripped through him.

They collapsed together, her weight slumping against his chest, both of them panting in the aftermath. The air reeked of sex and death, the moonlight casting harsh shadows over their tangled bodies. Somewhere in the distance, the remaining vampires were still hiding, their fear a faint hum in the back of his mind. He’d deal with them later. Or she would. Right now, he didn’t give a damn.

She shifted, rolling off him to lie on her back beside him, staring up at the rusted ceiling. Blood streaked her face, her chest, her thighs - hers and theirs - and she didn’t bother wiping it away. “Three left,” she said, voice steady again, like they hadn’t just fucked each other senseless in a pool of gore.

He turned his head to look at her, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. “Eager to get back to work, are we?”

She didn’t smile back, just sat up, reaching for her machete where it lay a few feet away. “They’re not going to kill themselves.”

Lucifer laughed, loud and unrestrained, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Oh, I do love you,” he said, and for once, it didn’t sound entirely like a joke. He pushed himself up, brushing dirt and blood from his skin, and watched as she stood, already pulling her jeans back into place. His little hunter, practical to the end.

“Let’s go hunting, then,” he said, stepping closer to drape an arm around her shoulders, possessive and casual all at once. “I’ll even let you take the next one. I’m feeling generous.”

She glanced at him, that flicker of interest back in her eyes, and nodded. “Deal.” Then she turned, machete in hand, and started toward the back office, leaving him to follow. As always.

[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.

[yandereunsolved]

⛧🦌 Yandere Lucifer 🦌 ⛧

Religion was always an unnecessarily touchy subject around you. God, the Devil, angels—they were myths you knew as fact. The Bible wasn't just a book. It was a prophecy.

And all you could do was pray that when the apocalypse came, you'd be one of the saved.

But God doesn't truly care for any of his creations. He's truly no better than the demons his divinity claims to vanquish.

And the greatest one he has ever created, the son he cast into the deep pits so he could raise another, became quite fond of you.

You and your skittish mind. The purity you try so hard to cultivate in your heart.

Intrusive thoughts begin to cloud your judgment daily. It's just one of the tricks in his book.

He leads you down the path of temptation and delivers you from false pastures. Into his arms.

His illusionary figure appears in your dreamscape once again. He looks inviting, but behind those honeyed words you see the hellish beast you were warned of daily. Despite being in your mind, you're the one trapped, thrashing around inside your own meatsuit, begging some unknown savior to wake you.

This is no nightmare. This is worse than reality.

All of those verses you practiced for hours on end fail you when the time comes. 'There is no evil too great that God cannot vanquish.' But God is not here. He has not been here for a long time. And all you can muster are feeble words that could fall over in a meager wind.

"Let me go."

Your spirit is far too tired to push against him any longer. And why should you? He promises you everything you could ever need and more. But that's just another one of his tricks. Or is it?

An inhumanely soft hand snakes under your chin and lifts it up gingerly. He urges you to look in his saintly eyes, his virtuous lips brushing the edge of your ear.

"I can't let go of you when you have so willingly given yourself to me. Why do you think God created you? To serve me."

[hornedstorys]

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔/𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆... 𝑰𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏...

[procrastinatingacademic]

Updated Masterlist

Started: 28 February 2025

Last updated: 31 March 2025

Total works: 33

Angst💥; Fluff💫; Suggestive themes🔥

I don't write smut. All fics are 'x Reader' unless stated otherwise. I strive to mostly write gender-neutral Reader-characters, and I don't use Y/N.

DC Comics

The Scarecrow/Dr. Jonathan Crane

Ongoing series - There's nothing to fear when I'm with you (currently on hiatus) (Jonathan x female OC)

Fighting boredom

John Contantine

Ongoing series - Restless: A Constantine/Good Omens Crossover (currently on hiatus)💫🔥(No Reader-character)

The Riddler/Edward Nygma

Starlight is for dancing🔥

Black Mask/Roman Sionis

We were together, I forget the rest💫🔥

The Sandman

The Corinthian

(The lesser of) two evils💥💫🔥

Life is the flower for which love is the honey💥💫

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless

To see a world in a grain of sand (Blind!Reader)

Grishaverse

Kaz Brekker

Stay💫

It is lightning that does the work💥💫

Nikolai Lantsov/Sturmhond

A mother is the truest friend we have💥💫 (Mother Figure!Reader)

Two ships in the night💫

The Hunger Games

Haymitch Abernathy

Untitled WIP (Haymitch x female OC) (series)

Criminal Minds

Dr. Spencer Reid

Experience💫

Your song💫

Kidnapped for the vibes💥💫 (UnSub!Spencer Reid)

House of the Dragon

Larys Strong

Untitled WIP

Marvel

Dr. Stephen Strange

A little less awkward💫

Daredevil/Matt Murdock

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter 💫🔥

Greek Mythology

Apollo

Apollo - Autism💥💫 (No Reader-character)

Hermes

Hermes - Kleptomania💥 (No Reader-character)

Hades

Hades - Separation Anxiety Disorder💥💫 (No Reader-character)

Hypnos

WIP: Hypnos - Narcolepsy

Potterverse

Newt Scamander

Hold me close💥💫

Sirius & Regulus Black

The best way to make children good is to make them happy💥💫 (Parental Figure!Reader)

Supernatural

Lucifer

Wings of snow💫

Eyes of fire🔥

Gabriel

WIP: Run away with me, mon amour

Arcane

Viktor

Memorise you💥💫🔥 (Blind!Reader)

The Witcher (Netflix)

Jaskier

Sing a song only you can hear💫

Untitled WIP

Critical Role/The Legend of Vox Machina

Percival "Percy" de Rolo

While the music lasts💫

Prodigal Son

Malcolm Bright

Shut your eyes and see💥💫 (Blind!Reader)

Sherlock (BBC)

James "Jim" Moriarty

The world is boring for boring people💥💫🔥

Good Omens

Ongoing series - Restless: A Constantine/Good Omens Crossover (currently on hiatus)💫🔥(No Reader-character)

Various

The Three Musketeers (Anderson, 2011)

Aramis/René d'Herblay

Be kind, aim for my heart💫

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (de La Patellière & Delaporte, 2024)

Edmond Dantès/The Count of Monte Cristo

Count your blessings

Amsterdam

LA by Night/Vampire the Masquerade

Robert Garrick

All your tomorrows start here💫

[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.

[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

[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.

[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'!

[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.”

[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.

[whopraysforsatan]

I want to write some smut

Does anybody have any Lucifer smut requests?

[hornedstorys]

SPN Lucifer x Reader - a kiss for every good deed

Warnings: Kissing, it gets a little sweeter at the end, nice Lucifer

Synopsis: When Lucifer refuses to help you on a hunt, you offer him a kiss in return. Was that a good idea?

“We don't need him to manage this hunt,” Dean growled, pointing at the devil who was sitting at the table with a smug grin, listening to you argue.

“But Dean, he's got enough power to help us with this vampire nest,” you try to persuade him, but the Winchester didn't exactly look enthusiastic and more importantly; convinced. You huffed in annoyance and turned to Lucifer, who looked at you with sparkling eyes.

“Come on Lucifer, help us,” you begged him. The angel's grin only widened when he realized you were almost begging him. But he shook his head. For him, the whole thing was just a game and he especially liked to make you squirm.

Sam looked back and forth between Dean and you and was about to say something until Dean spoke up again: “You see (Y/n), he's not going to help us. We've dealt with vampires before. This time we'll do it too,” these were Dean's final words and you looked at him uncomprehendingly.

He was right that you had dealt with vampires before, but this time there were more of them and they weren't creatures to be underestimated. You were about to resist when Dean disappeared from the room. Sam put a hand on your shoulder with an encouraging face and followed his brother.

You took a deep breath and exhaled, then turned to face the devil. His mischievous eyes looked at you openly and cheekily.

“What can I do to get you to help us, you stubborn devil?” you said, sitting down on a chair next to him. Lucifer tilted his head and made an exaggerated, thoughtful gesture. He tapped his lower lip. You rolled your eyes.

“There won't be anything you can give me, little dove. I like watching Dean fail,” he scoffed and you just looked at him dumbly. Until a thought occurred to you.

“A kiss.”

At those words, Lucifer's brows drew upwards and even his eyes widened. Had he just heard that right?

“A kiss? Sweetheart, a kiss with the devil is like entering into a pact,” he said, grinning broadly, almost diabolically, but your gaze remained steadfast.

“I can handle that.”

Now he just raised an eyebrow and looked at you intently, as if he was looking for you to hesitate. Then you held out your hand to him and his blue eyes followed your movement.

“For every hunt you help us, you get a kiss. Deal?” He looked at your hand for a while longer before taking it in his and nodding.

“We have a pack, sweetheart.”

“But no tongue,” you grumble and Lucifer wiggled his eyebrows, ”I won't promise anything.”

And sure enough, Lucifer appeared in the middle of the action when you were surrounded by vampires. Much to the astonishment of Dean and Sam. They were all the more shocked when Lucifer turned to you with a grin, stretched out his arms and you walked towards him. He was so ready to feel your lips on his, but you pressed your lips against his rough, cold cheek.

Dean's jaw almost dropped to the floor and Sam's eyebrows shot up. While the angel looked at you, almost pouting. He had expected otherwise.

“We didn't say where I should kiss you,” you grinned mischievously at him and grabbed his chin with your upturned hand. You gently squeezed his cheeks and he just looked at you. His light beard was rough under your touch.

“Naughty girl,” he said as you let go of his cheeks and walked back to the car. But his cheek was still tingling where your lips had been just a few minutes ago.

And so it went on and on. He helped you and got a kiss from you on his cheek. And the devil liked it. It made him addicted and curious. Curious about how your lips would feel on his.

The brothers were rather critical of the whole thing, but you skillfully ignored Dean's words of warning.

“Stop playing with me, worm,” you almost turned to him in offense at that nickname as you were in the middle of reading a book. Lucifer leaned against the doorframe and looked at you with a gaze you couldn't interpret. You looked at him with innocent eyes, but also because you honestly didn't know what he meant.

He grumbled in annoyance and stepped towards you. You tensed, waiting to see what he would do next.

“Lucifer,” you started and he shook his head.

“No, (y/n). No Lucifer,” he leaned down towards you so that your faces were only inches apart. Your pulse quickened and you wondered if maybe the action from last time had been too much of a fall. Lucifer grinned.

“No, that action wasn't too excessive, dove. But I think you sometimes forget who you're dealing with,” his voice became a hiss and your cheeks burned.

“Just one more hunt, Lucifer. Then let's drop the deal… okay?” you pressed out and you could feel your throat constrict while Lucifer's menacing gaze was still on your face. Oh God, he was so close to you that you could almost feel his cold skin. Nervously, you licked your lips.

The devil seemed to be brooding and for a millisecond that you hadn't noticed, his eyes turned red. He pulled back and nodded.

“Good, one more hunt.”

Then he was gone.

You stood nervously in front of the old warehouse. Your pulse was racing. You wondered if Lucifer would really come. Maybe he was disgusted that you were giving him a kiss. Maybe he was just curious to see what it was like. After all, angels weren't made for love. But Lucifer was no ordinary angel.

“You guys ready?” asked Dean, and Sam and you nodded. Well the hunt was reasonably successful. You'd gotten some hard time, and not just once. Although Lucifer had come to help you again, he couldn't help you in time.

Groaning in pain, you leaned against a tree and held your arm, blood now flowing down it. Your eyelids became heavy and you vaguely noticed how Dean spoke to you. His worried eyes scrutinized you and now something else came into your field of vision.

You briefly had the feeling that glowing, red eyes were coming towards you, but the glow quickly cooled and Lucifer's face appeared. There really was worry in his eyes too.

“You stupid human,” he cursed, eyeing your injury. You smiled weakly at him, but you were too weak to form words. Lucifer offered to help you. He could take away your pain, and he did. Warmth flooded your body as he healed you. But it was all too much for your body and you passed out.

Hours later, you woke up, only to be startled the next moment when the devil stood next to your bed and looked at you.

“Do you have to scare me like that?” you asked him and were about to throw a pillow at him. He looked at you mockingly.

“Easy for you to say. Who almost died today and gave us all a scare?” he asked curtly and you sighed as you rubbed your aching head.

“I'm sorry. I don't know what happened,” you whispered and briefly your eyes fell back on the man next to you. ”Thank you.”

The words came shakily from your lips. You were still dazed. But you hadn't forgotten how that bastard had saved your life.

“But I'm your bastard! And you're welcome!” He spread your arms and you actually had to laugh a little. Lucifer sat down next to you and you could feel his powerful presence again.

“But you know you still owe me one,” he grinned broadly and you nodded.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss,” he nodded.

Weakly, you leaned towards him, having to support yourself on his shoulder, wanting to give him a kiss on the cheek. Lucifer gently supported you, holding you by the hips. But before you could reach his skin, the fallen angel pressed his cold lips to yours.

Your eyes widened, but you quickly relaxed. You leaned into the kiss and a calmness flowed through your body. But Lucifer wanted more and his tongue invaded your mouth. You gasped and held on to his shoulders because you were still so weak. As if in slow motion, you slowly pulled away from each other. And suddenly it was even colder when his lips were no longer touching yours.

Still surprised, you looked at the devil. His eyes rested gently on yours and he carefully stroked your cheek. You shuddered.

“A deal with the devil isn't so bad after all,” you quipped and Lucifer's eyes twinkled.

“Be careful what you say, little dove.”