I've noticed you don't have a lot of Lucifer smut content luckily I'm a total SIMP for him! So I'd like to make a Lucifer request with a female reader (I'm not sure if you have any restrictions or rules on requests). I was wondering if you could do something with Lucifer comforting the reader after she has a terrible nightmare about an abusive ex that they never mentioned to Lucifer before. She tells him what happened (maaaybe that's how she died or not) he gets really pissed off because he feels guilty that he's not able to smite them but the reader tells them that it's not important there's some tears. So Lucifer helps her feel better and make her forget about the ex by having sensual passionate intense sex that's so incredible that she'll completely forget about her ex. however you want to write it is all you!
Uh~
Delicouse, Vanilla ice Cream~
I hope, as always, it pleasures you!
He Kissed the Nightmares Away Lucifer x F!Reader Smut
CW: stalking, domestic abuse / abusive relationship, kidnapping / captivity, violence, trauma & PTSD themes, explicit sexual content / smut, emotional vulnerability
The Hazbin Hotel never fully slept.
Somewhere downstairs, Angel Dust was laughing at his own bad joke. Husk was clinking glasses behind the bar. The old building creaked and sighed, as if it had a story of its own it told at night.
Y/N's room was in the east wing, second floor, door with the golden frame. Charlie had shown her the room personally, proud and beaming. Y/N had closed the door behind her and, for the first time in a very long time, leaned against a wall that had no chains.
That had been three weeks ago. After her death.
Tonight she sat upright in her bed and trembled. Cried out.
She didn't hear Lucifer coming.
Y/N never heard anyone coming – that was the problem, that had always been the problem – and when quiet knuckles rapped against her doorframe, she startled so hard she nearly fell off the bed.
"Hey. Hey, it's me." The voice was calm. Familiar.
The two of them had become close quickly. Y/N loved his positive energy, the way he made everything smaller, and how different he was from the man who had brought her here.
Y/N needed two breaths to recognize the walls of the hotel room for what they were – and not for what she knew.
"...Lucifer," she gasped.
"The one and only." A brief pause. "Can I come in?"
Lucifer opened the door slowly – deliberately slowly – and stepped inside. He was wearing his pink sweater, the little yellow rubber ducks still clinging to him from static. One of those rubber ducks was stuck to him like an improvised brooch. His hair was slightly dishevelled, as if he'd just been asleep himself.
"I heard something," Lucifer began carefully. No accusation. Just a statement. He tapped the wall. "The building carries sounds in a funny way. I'm three rooms down."
His smile was so open and warm.
"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted gently, settling into the chair beside her bed – the chair that was there because Vaggie sometimes came by in the evenings and waited for her to talk. "I'll just... sit here."
Lucifer placed his hands in his lap and looked at her.
In his golden eyes there was nothing but quiet, patient attention.
And Y/N, who hadn't said a word to anyone in three weeks, who had learned how to listen for doors and count footsteps, who had divided silence into harmless and not harmless – opened her mouth.
"I want to tell you something," she said. "When you hear it... you might see me differently."
"Unlikely," Lucifer waved off.
Y/N sat up properly and began to speak.
"It started with him sending me flowers."
Her voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. The only way she could get through this part.
"Anonymous, at first. Every morning in front of my apartment door. I thought it was romantic. Then came letters – he knew my name, my address, my commute. Then photos." She paused. "Photos of me. Taken through my kitchen window. Through my car windshield. On the street, from behind – he must have been right behind me."
Lucifer said nothing. His face was very still.
"I went to the police. They... well." A small, bitter twist of her mouth. "He was charming. He seemed normal. And I couldn't prove anything." She breathed in. "Then I met him for the first time. He was just standing in my apartment. Door locked, no break-in, no trace. He sat on my sofa and smiled at me, said I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."
"I told him to leave. He left. But the next morning my cat was gone." She swallowed. "I never found her."
"Then came the threats. Against friends, against my sister. I isolated myself – from everyone – to protect them. Which was exactly what he wanted. He knew exactly what he was doing." She rubbed her wrist, unconsciously. Tears formed in her eyes. "The first time he hit me, he spent three hours apologizing afterward. He cried. Said he couldn't live without me. That I was the only thing he'd ever loved. That he'd kill himself if I left." She laughed once, quietly – a sound without any warmth. "I was stupid enough to believe him back then."
The chair under Lucifer creaked softly.
"I fought back," she said, and there was something hard in her voice. Something that had survived. "Every time. I never just held still. I screamed, I bit, I ran. Once I broke his arm with an umbrella." A short pause. "He broke both my wrists after that. But I broke his arm."
"One evening – it was autumn, raining – I was coming home late. Country road, hardly any light. A deer ran onto the road." Her voice grew quieter. "I swerved. The car rolled. I only remember glass. Silence. And then..." She closed her eyes. "Then nothing."
A very long pause. Y/N trembled all over.
"When I woke up... it was dark." Her voice dropped below a whisper. "I smelled concrete. Damp earth. My wrists... I couldn't move them. Chains. Real chains, attached to a ring in the wall." She swallowed audibly. "At first I didn't understand what had happened. I called out. Nobody answered. Then I screamed. That's when he came."
The room felt smaller. Colder.
"He had found me. Unconscious on the roadside. He hadn't called emergency services." Her voice was almost without tone now. "He had put me in his trunk."
A crack. Somewhere in the room, as if wood was splintering.
"I don't know how long I was down there. He took away my sense of time – no light, no clocks, those injections again and again that made me fall asleep. I'd wake up, fall back asleep, wake up. Sometimes he was there when I woke. Sometimes not." She pulled her knees to her chest. "When he was in a good mood, he'd sit beside me and stroke my face. Tell me about the life we'd have together. House on the beach. Caribbean. Lovebirds above us." Her voice almost broke. "He'd whisper in my ear how much he loved me. How beautiful I was. How no one would ever love me the way he did."
She heard Lucifer's breath. Very controlled.
"And then he'd turn around."
"Then I was a worthless slut who cost him money. Who didn't deserve his concern. Who was ungrateful, who didn't love him, who—" Her voice trembled. "He hit me in the face while telling me he did it because he loved me. Then he cried. Held me and told me he'd never stop. Never. That he'd hunt me, torture me, own me, until I loved him." She exhaled shakily. "That's the last thing I remember. Him holding me, and me having stopped fighting back. Not because I didn't want to. But because I... couldn't anymore."
The room was completely silent for minutes.
Lucifer was no longer sitting in the chair.
He stood. In the middle of the room, perfectly straight, both hands balled into fists, and he didn't look like a man someone had told a bad joke to. He didn't look like someone who was about to say something sarcastic.
More like the thing he truly was. The King of Hell.
The neon lights of Hell made his shadow fall long across the floor. In his eyes there was no gold left. Only fire. Old, quiet, absolute fire.
"His name." It didn't sound like a question. It sounded like a verdict that had already been delivered. "Tell me his name." His voice was calm, far too calm, and the aggression in it crackled in the air.
"His. Name." Each word separate. Each word like a death sentence. Lucifer stepped toward the door, as if he'd walk straight through the wall, through Hell, through everything between him and that person. "He's breathing. Right now. While you sit here, that—"
Immediately. Completely. As if someone had pressed pause on the world.
The silence was different from before. No explosion building up. Just silence.
Slowly – very slowly – he turned around.
Y/N still had her knees pulled to her chest. Her eyes were wet. She hadn't noticed when that had happened.
"Please," she said again. "Sit back down. Stay with me."
The King looked at her. The anger was still there – it would never fully leave, she could see that – but beneath it was something else. Something that was costing him more than the anger.
Settled beside her on the edge of the bed. Head bowed, hands folded, and said nothing for a long time.
Until the words fell: "He brought you here."
"Maybe," said Y/N. "Probably. The end is blurry."
"You said you always fought back."
"Good." His voice was very quiet. Dangerously quiet, but not aimed at her. "That's good. That shouldn't be forgotten."
Y/N blinked. A tear ran down her cheek, she barely noticed.
Lucifer raised his eyes – and when he saw her, the trembling, the wet eyes, the hands still clutching the sheets – something slid off his face that had no name. No mask. No control. Just him.
"Come here," Lucifer said quietly, and opened his arms.
Y/N moved before she could think about it – leaned into him, and he closed his arm around her, pulled her to his side. Her head landed on his shoulder. He smelled of caramel. The pink sweater was soft and warm. Y/N felt protected immediately, leaned into the warmth. Lucifer held her tightly.
Her fingers found the fabric of his sweater.
Closed around it. Cramped, trembling, as if they wanted to make sure – He is real. This is real.
Lucifer's hand rose slowly to her hair.
One stroke. From the crown downward, very slowly. Careful, as if she were something that mustn't be startled. Again and again, until the trembling in her shoulders eased, until her breath became more even, the hand holding his sweater loosening just a little without letting go.
"He's not here," Lucifer murmured. "No chains. No injections. No basements." His hand swept her hair back, tucked a loose strand behind her ear. His fingertips grazed her cheek – a touch so light it was almost nothing.
Lucifer looked down at her. From this closeness he found her even more beautiful than usual, and Y/N lost herself in his golden-red eyes. The air between them changed. Not suddenly. Slowly, like temperature. Like something that had been there for a while and was now finally stopping to hide.
Her hand loosened from the sweater. Laid itself flat against his chest instead.
Lucifer looked at her hand. Then back at her face. Somewhere in his gaze was a question – may I? – as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud.
The kiss was quiet. Almost questioning – as if both were waiting for something to interrupt. Nothing interrupted. His hand was still in her hair. The other found her waist, light, without demand. Y/N breathed in and kissed him back. For one very long moment the world was small and warm.
When they parted, his face was a few centimetres from hers. His thumb wiped away a last tear she hadn't noticed.
Lucifer allowed himself a second. Two.
Then a slow, unveiled smile crossed his face. A tender, loving smile that said I'm here, from now on everything will be alright.
"You know," he murmured, his voice dark and quiet as deep water, "I could make you forget him."
She looked at him. Waited.
"Completely." His thumb stroked her cheek, deliberately slow. "Every thought. Every memory of his face, his voice, his name."
His golden eyes rested on her, calm, dark, and completely focused on her.
"I know better things for you to remember."
Y/N's breath caught. Her lips twitched – not quite a smile, but close.
Something in his gaze changed. The smile didn't disappear – it became quieter. More focused. Like a flame that has stopped flickering because it finally has enough oxygen.
His lips found her cheek – a single, deliberate kiss, barely more than a breath. Then her temple. Then he moved slowly, with full intent, along her jawline. No rushing. No hesitation. As if he had all the time in eternity, and as if he had decided to spend it exactly here.
His mouth reached her neck.
No bite. No pressure. Just the barely-there contact of his lips against her skin – so soft it grazed the border of a tickle, and yet it let a warmth arise that spread deep and slowly, like ink in warm water. Lucifer kissed once. Twice. One spot, then another. Always with that same alarming patience, as if he had decided to learn every centimetre.
A soft sound escaped her, involuntarily.
She felt his mouth curve briefly into a smile.
Her hand, which had lain on his chest, slid slowly upward, over his collarbone, and her fingers found themselves in his hair without her having consciously decided to put them there.
Looked at her – that one, quiet moment. A silent question. Good?
She didn't answer with words.
Her hand in his hair drew him gently back toward her. He let it happen, let himself be guided, and this time their lips met – it was no longer the careful, questioning kiss from before. This was slow and deep and had a weight that made both of them sink.
His hands found her waist.
Just there at first, resting, warm through the thin fabric. Then he began to move. Slowly, with the same care as his lips. Over her sides, the curve of her ribs, her shoulder blades. Every movement deliberate. Warm. As if he were mapping something he didn't want to forget.
She shuddered, though she wasn't cold.
"Lucifer," she whispered into his mouth.
"Mm." Not a complete word.
Gently. Her shoulders found the pillow. He leaned over her – held himself on one arm, looked at Y/N for a moment simply.
Then he lowered himself. His lips found her forehead.
A kiss that demanded nothing. That was simply there.
"You don't have to do anything," he murmured against her skin. "Just be here."
Let her shoulders drop. Let the last tension give way.
Lucifer gently helped her out of the top. No rush. No demand. When he saw her shy gesture, the instinct to cover herself, he laid both hands calmly around her arms and waited until she looked at him.
"It's alright," he said quietly. No flattery. No smile with it. Just the truth, set down like a fact. "You're beautiful."
Then he started over from the beginning.
Y/N now lay with her upper body exposed before him, shyly covering her breasts.
Lucifer gently reached for her arms. “It's okay. You're beautiful.”
His lips began to wander. Her temple. Her cheekbones. The spot below her ear, where she involuntarily sucked in air. Lucifer lingered there, kissing the same spot again until her hands dug into his hair once more.
“That's on purpose,” she whispered.
“Completely,” he confirmed.
Her neck, one side, the middle, the other side—he didn't leave a spot untouched. There was no rush. His lips found her pulse and paused there. For a long moment. A single kiss as light as breath.
Her heartbeat answered him, faster than she would have liked.
His hands moved further down, playing with the drawstring of her pajama pants.
Y/N laughed. A genuine laugh, short and quiet.
He kissed her collarbone.
One, then the other, the path between them, as if that too were a decision. One hand wandered cautiously back up, cupping one of her breasts.
He knew exactly what he was doing. His fingers massaged her nipple.
Y/N's fingers found his neck and held on tight.
Lucifer carefully lay down between her legs. Y/N felt his hardness.
A blush spread across her face. And now Y/N finally forgot the guy in her head, because the man she loved was aroused. Because of her.
Y/N gasped softly. Lucifer grinned, rubbed himself lightly against her, kissed her lips.
Y/N gently clawed at Lucifer's back, showing him that she needed more.
He understood immediately, moved his kisses further down, bit the zipper of her pants. Lucifer looked directly into Y/N's eyes. She quickly looked away.
Grinning, Lucifer took off his sweater. He leaned over Y/N again.
“I'll send you to heaven. Protect you,” he whispered in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe.
His hands moved down, pulling off her pants. Then one of his fingers found her hot, wet center. He massaged her clitoris through her panties.
Y/N gasped, squinting her eyes. Lucifer twitched with excitement, continuing to massage her, kissing her breasts.
Y/N moaned softly beneath him, enjoying the moment. Until Lucifer paused briefly, just to push her panties aside and touch her properly.
Again and again, his finger circled her clitoris, sending electric shocks through Y/N's body.
A finger slid over her folds, and Y/N wanted Lucifer to penetrate her so badly. At the thought, he did it, gently entering her. Then he withdrew from her.
Disappointed, Y/N gasped and looked at him. But Lucifer just grinned and repositioned his hand. Two of his fingers slid into her, hitting her G-spot directly, and his thumb massaged her clitoris.
Y/N immediately moaned, pressing her hips against him. Lucifer kissed her gently to muffle her sounds.
One of his free hands remained down, pressing on her uterus from the outside, bringing her G-spot closer to his fingers and making the sensation even more intense.
Y/N began to tremble. Her body was no longer in control and moved against his movements. Her fingers clawed into the bed.
It was pure ecstasy. The feeling of thousands of electric fireworks inside her, pleasuring her.
It drained her energy. Lucifer noticed and let go of her, only to pleasure her with his mouth.
He gently pulled her panties off completely.
His long, narrow, agile tongue penetrated her. It licked every fold, every curve, and tasted her.
Y/N grabbed his hair and pulled Lucifer's face closer to her.
He loved it immediately, licking her more intensely, more wildly. Only to then wrap his tongue around her clitoris and mimic gentle thrusts with his finger.
“Fuck. Lu... I need all of you,” Y/N moaned.
Lucifer paused. Not only because she was so willing, but because Y/N had just called him by his nickname.
A pleasant tingling sensation spread through him.
The king moved away from her to pull down his pants. His boxers already had wet spots from his precum.
He freed himself from the painful tightness, only to hang completely naked over Y/N. She stared wide-eyed at his hard length.
Lucifer gently placed his fingers under her chin. “Don't worry, it will fit.”
Y/N nodded. Their lips met again and Lucifer slowly penetrated her with his tip.
Y/N moaned loudly into the kiss, tensing up from the new yet familiar feeling. Lucifer waited bit by bit for her to get used to him, then pushed further and further until he was completely inside her.
Both of their bodies were completely heated. They were almost trembling with excitement. They looked deeply into each other's eyes.
“Okay,” Y/N gasped, folding her hands together as if worshipping the fallen angel above her.
Lucifer gently enclosed her hands with his. “Hold on tight,” he whispered and began to move.
Gentle thrusts, again and again. Carefully, he found the rhythm that made Y/N see stars. Her hands found his back.
The heat rose steadily, the movements became faster. With each thrust, a new wave of warmth washed over Y/N.
Like a warm summer night, where fireworks were slowly lit, the pressure inside her grew steadily.
The knot in her abdomen tightened.
Y/N pulled Lucifer even closer with both legs, which intensified the thrusts.
She moaned loudly and let herself fall.
“Fuck, I'm... I'm coming,” she warned Lucifer.
This knowledge aroused him so much that he was also close to climaxing.
The movements became rougher, more imprecise.
The knot exploded and the tingling fireworks exploded throughout her entire body.
Lucifer came right after her as she tightened around him.
They both breathed loudly, looking into each other's eyes.
A genuine laugh—exhausted, warm, complete.
She lifted her head, looked at him, cupped his face with both hands like someone who wanted to make sure it was real.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Lucifer opened his mouth—presumably for some quick-witted remark, some Lucifer comment that would lighten the mood again. But then he closed it again.
Instead, he pulled her closer to him.
“You're welcome, princess,” he murmured into her hair.
She snuggled closer and together they built a nest out of pillows and blankets—she with the many pillows, he with a superfluous third blanket that he pulled out of thin air with a gesture of magic, because he could.
Then, when everything was quiet and her breathing had slowed, he cleared his throat.
“Would it be...” A short pause. He looked to the side. “Would it be okay if I stayed here tonight? Just in case...” He fell silent. Tried again. “Purely as a precaution. In case you...”
He nodded once, very seriously, as if it had been a professional decision.
But when she closed her eyes, there was a smile on his face—the real, quiet one he rarely showed—and he left it there.
The little rubber duck on the floor looked up at the ceiling.
Outside, all hell was breaking loose. Inside, Y/N slept, deeply and peacefully, without a single dream that could harm her.
No face. No name. No chains.
He had kissed them away. Every single one.
And the fallen morning star, king of hell and resident of a hotel full of sinners, held her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
izzy806
janainaart
