#explicitcontent

[isiberrie]

★ — synopsis pulled under by a sudden storm, you wake in a salt‑slick cave with a silent, watchful merman. he leaves you offerings, guides you to a moss bed, and courts you in a way that’s patient, predatory, inevitable. when the hush finally breaks, the claim is raw and explicit—tail, scales, and all.

★ — tags & warnings MDNI / 18+ only • explicit sexual content • reader‑insert • giyu tomioka x reader (merman!giyu) • demon slayer / kimetsu no yaiba au • merman / merfolk • predator–prey undertones • nonhuman anatomy • tail play • ridged cock • oral (receiving) • creampie • breeding implications • dub‑con vibes / monster romance dynamics • possessive!character • forced proximity • aftercare (clinical / ownership‑coded)

the storm had rolled in sudden, a shiver down the spine of the horizon. one moment, the sea was glassy and gray, the next, the sky cracked itself open in veins of white, thunder crawling low across the water like a beast waking from its sleep. you had only meant to walk the shore, to feel the salt damp on your lips and listen to the distant cries of gulls as the world softened into dusk. but the tide had been sly—creeping, coaxing, then dragging. the first rush of cold against your ankles had felt harmless; the second, up to your calves, had tugged. then the wave broke against you like a hand, rough and greedy, and you were gone.

pulled under. spun and dragged, lungs seizing with saltwater, the world folding into liquid darkness. you thought you saw light—silver streaks in the water like ribbons of moon—but it was only the storm above refracted, teasing, vanishing. your chest burned, your limbs thrashed. you thought you would drown.

and then—arms. not arms, not exactly. something stronger, sure as a current itself, closing around your waist, tugging you deeper when instinct screamed up. panic, black spots bursting like fireworks across your vision—until it blurred into nothing.

__________________

you woke on stone.

a cave, hollowed out by time and tide, dripping with seawater that clung to the walls like pearls. the storm’s roar was muted here, thunder a dull throb against the rock. your clothes clung heavy to your body, hair slick across your face, skin clammy with salt. you coughed until your ribs ached, lungs raw with the taste of the sea.

alone—or so you thought.

at first, the silence was companion enough. you stumbled toward the cave mouth, light shivering off the water outside, driftwood tangled against the rocks. you tried. you pushed a piece into the tide, climbed onto it, paddled desperate with your hands. but the current was merciless, dragging you back, splinter biting your palms. the rocks loomed sharp as teeth, the pull of the storm an endless maw. you gave up before it could break you open. crawled back, shivering, onto the wet sand of the cavern.

and then—you felt it.

eyes. not human eyes. a presence, low and patient as the undertow. he didn’t show himself at first. you only caught glimpses. a shadow under the water’s surface. a ripple, too deliberate to be the tide. something left for you on the stone: a fish, silver and limp, scales catching faint light. your stomach lurched with hunger and yet—revulsion, too, at the rawness of it. you pushed it away, whispering to yourself that you weren’t desperate. not yet.

__________________

days pass.

you’re not sure how many—time doesn’t exist here, not beneath the weight of stone and tide. the cave becomes both prison and sanctuary. he brings you fish, fruit tangled in kelp, even shells filled with clear water. he keeps his distance, most of the time, but always close enough to see you, to hear the shift of your breath.

you learned the rhythm of it. how you could feel him before you saw him, like the cave air thickened when he swam near. how when you pressed your ear against the stone at night, you swore you could hear him breathe, low and even, like the sea itself. he watched. always watched. sometimes you caught the gleam—moonlight refracted in eyes that were too sharp, too intent, peering from the black surface of the pool.

when he finally surfaced, it was quiet. no flourish, no splash. just there. his face breaking the water like he belonged to it, droplets clinging to sharp cheekbones, hair darker than the cavern shadows trailing like ink. his mouth was set, his expression unreadable—but his eyes, gods, his eyes pinned you like a caught fish.

you’d only meant to bathe in the spring, rinsing the salt and grit from your skin, when his shadow cuts the light. he slides into the water soundlessly, fins stirring the surface. your heart seizes. his eyes are locked to you, pale and sharp, and the weight of them makes your thighs press together under the water.

“why do you run?”

you froze. voice. you hadn’t thought him capable. it was low, husked by salt and silence, but unmistakably human.

you whispered something, stammered, asked who he was.

he tilted his head, water sliding off his jaw. “i’ve been courting you.” as if it were the simplest truth.

and you saw it now—every offering, every fish left at your feet, every time he guided you wordlessly deeper into the cave where moss grew soft against the stone. courtship. his kind’s version of it.

fear should have sat heavier in you, but something else bloomed instead: the raw, dangerous awareness of being chosen. hunted.

he rose from the water, and you saw him fully. torso human, yes—broad shoulders, muscles corded tight beneath pale skin streaked with salt. but below the waist—no legs. not human. the vast sweep of a tail, scales dark as obsidian veined with a shimmer of blue, fins edged sharp, powerful enough to churn the tide itself. his hands—long-fingered, webbed, nails curving faint like claws.

he moved closer, dragging himself from the water’s edge, leaving trails of salt. your breath hitched.

“you fight the current,” he said, gaze never wavering. “but the ocean doesn’t release what it takes.”

it should have sounded like a threat. instead, it felt like a vow.

you whispered that you weren’t food. he blinked once, slow, then leaned in until you felt the damp heat of his breath.

“not food,” he said. “mine.”

you should have recoiled. you didn’t.

when his mouth met yours, it was like drowning again—but willing this time. the kiss was salt and desperation, teeth grazing, his hand spanning your jaw, thumb pressing beneath your chin until your lips parted for him. he was hungry in it, reverent too, the low hum in his throat vibrating against your tongue.

then the tension snapped. his webbed hand splayed across your waist, dragging you toward him until your chest pressed to hard muscle, scales slick against your belly. “don’t—” you started, but the word was lost when his nose dragged along your throat, a low rumble vibrating through his chest.

he pulled you up against a rock ledge, his tail coiling tight around your hips, binding you there. your legs spread without thought as his hands explored, rough and sure, cupping the swell of your ass, sliding between your thighs. his fingers, cool, callused, and webbed, dragged slick through your folds until you jolted with a gasp.

he tasted every inch of you like ritual. salt, teeth, tongue—your throat, your collarbone, the damp cling of your clothes peeled away with deliberate slowness. when his mouth closed around your nipple, you gasped, back arching, and his hum there was approving, predatory.

then his mouth followed the trail lower. sharp teeth glinted when his lips parted, but it was his tongue—longer than any human’s—that flattened hot against your cunt, dragging from clit to entrance in one obscene stripe. “ah—fuck—” your cry echoed off the cavern walls. his hands gripped you bruisingly, spreading you wider as his tongue lapped, then plunged, thick and wet, curling inside you like he meant to taste every inch. the sounds were filthy—wet slurping, your own helpless moans, the slap of water as his tail tightened.

he growled low when you shuddered, the vibration flooding into your core until you sobbed, clawing at the moss. “please—too much, i can’t—” your voice broke as he spat against your hole, tongue diving back in to lap it up messily, like he was starving. he feasted until you were shaking, sobbing, your cunt fluttering helplessly around his tongue.

he finally lifted his head, lips glistening, eyes wild. “soft,” he murmured against your skin. reverent, awed. “so soft for me.”

before you could catch your breath, his cock pressed against your entrance—thick, ridged, scaled along the shaft but flushed at the tip. you barely managed a gasp before he drove in, stretching you open with a brutal snap of his hips. “oh god—fuck, it’s—too big—” you choked, nails digging into the moss.

he groaned low, forehead pressed to yours, thrusts deep and unyielding. the ridges—subtle, slick, textured along the length of him—caught at your walls in ways that left you clawing at the moss. he filled you too much, stretching, his tail curling tighter beneath you with every snap of his hips. his breath was ragged, sharp teeth bared, eyes locked on your face as if savoring every twitch, every broken moan.

he groaned into your shoulder, low and guttural, as if the act itself undid him. “mine,” he whispered again, voice breaking into the sound of water rushing against rock. “mine. you’re—” his words fractured into a growl as you tightened around him, dragging another thrust from him harder, deeper. your cries echoed off the cavern walls, mixing with the storm outside.

when you came, it was sharp, blinding, every nerve lit electric as you shook beneath him. he snarled, hips snapping faster, driving you over the edge. your climax tore through you, messy and shaking, your pussy gripping him so hard he groaned your name for the first time, guttural, desperate. he followed with a shudder, buried deep, the ridges of him pulsing as heat spilled inside you.

silence followed, save for your breath and the distant roll of thunder.

__________________

he didn't let you go immediately. his thrusts slowed, fading into stillness, but he stayed buried in you, chest heaving against your back. when he did finally pull out, you whimpered, but he hushed you low, voice rough and commanding. he rinsed a cloth in the pool, wiped you clean with deliberate, unhurried strokes. no tenderness, no cruelty—just necessity.

then he lifted you easily, laying you against a bed of moss he’d wordlessly guided you to before. his tail loosened, cradling you instead of caging. his hand rested heavy on your hip, thumb tracing idle circles as your heartbeat slowed. not affection. ownership.

you should have asked for freedom. instead, your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw. “what are you called?” you whispered.

he hesitated, eyes searching yours like tide studying shore. “…giyu.” the name clung to your tongue like salt.

and as your breath evened out, you felt the truth settle deep, cold and certain: you’ve been taken, claimed, folded into his silence like prey swallowed whole. with your cheek pressed to the cool scales of his arm, you realized with eerie, bone-deep certainty—you don’t want to escape. outside, the storm raged on. but in the cave, in his arms, you belonged to the ocean now.

[m1soku]

I was hoping you could make one for lucifer but y/n is his assistant and best friend and fell with him and Lilith because they kept his relationship a secret from the other angels despite knowing that they shouldn't have because it was wrong and when the angels found out y/n defended lucifer and Lilith causing them to fall and unlike lucifer y/n wings were completely ruined no longer able to fly with them he still had them but they were basically useless and Lilith left a lot earlier when Charlie was just a child causing y/n to step up on taking care of Charlie and lucifer especially since lucifer was such a mess after Lilith left but after a few years lucifer was doing better and actually started falling for y/n but y/n never noticed because he was busy making sure hell didn't fall apart and that Charlie was doing okay with her hotel while also making sure he doesn't fall apart in the process y/n did kinda i resent lucifer and Lilith especially Lilith because of how he lost his wings and how he had to step up since lucifer was a mess but he definitely still cared for lucifer and can you please make y/n male or non-binary and y/n was also known for his charm and wit and i would like some smut but only if your comfortable to do so and i feel like lucifer would be top sorry if this is long I've just been thinking about it for a while and I hope it makes sense what I'm trying to say anyway thank you for listening

✨ A new character is stepping into my little corner! ✨ Thank you so much for bringing Lucifer to my page—I’ve been waiting for this! 💖

I hope I did everything right. This one turned out a bit fluffier than my other stories (I think), with healing moments. 🥰 Please enjoy the fluffy smut part… (🍋 is the signal if you want to skip that). Chapter 7 will be back to normal!

Fallen wings found love I Lucifer x Male!Reader

CW: Fallen angels, violence, abuse of power, gore, blood, injury, mutilation, sexual content, sexual themes, explicit sex, broken wings, emotional trauma, grief, loss, parental issues, manipulation, angst, mature themes, language, death. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Word Count: ~4.2k

𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎

𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎

Chapter 1: The Fall

The sky had never felt so cold.

“Y/N,” Michael’s voice thundered through the marble halls, and you felt your wings draw in involuntarily. “You stood closer to Lucifer than any other angel. You were his right hand, his confidant, his best friend.”

“I still am,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Then explain to us,” Michael stepped closer, his presence crushing, “how you supposedly failed to notice what was going on between him and that… mortal.”

Lilith knelt beside Lucifer, her hands clasped together. She was trembling, but her gaze was defiant. Lucifer himself held his head high, his golden eyes burning with determination.

“I noticed,” you said calmly. “Of course I noticed.”

A collective gasp went through the assembly of archangels.

“You knew?!” Gabriel stepped forward. “You knew that Lucifer was violating divine order and you stayed silent?”

“Divine order,” you repeated, sharpness creeping into your voice, “the one that claims love is the highest good? Or do you mean a different order? One that arbitrarily decides who is allowed to love whom?”

“Silence!”

“No!” Lucifer jumped up, placing himself protectively in front of you. “Y/N did nothing wrong! He only—”

“He lied. By omission,” Michael interrupted coldly. “He betrayed his duty to Heaven.”

“My duty,” you said quietly, yet every word echoed through the hall, “has always been to my friends. To truth. To love. If that is betrayal, then I am guilty.”

Lilith’s eyes filled with tears. “Y/N, please… you don’t have to fall with us. Tell them you didn’t know. Save yourself.”

You looked down at her, then at Lucifer. Your best friend. The angel you had spent millennia with—laughing, arguing, dreaming.

“No,” you said simply. “If you fall, I fall with you.”

“Y/N—” Lucifer’s voice broke.

“So be it,” Michael proclaimed. “Lucifer Morningstar, Lilith, Y/N—you are hereby banished from Heaven. For all eternity.”

The ground beneath your feet began to shatter.

The fall was indescribable. Divine wrath materialized like blades of light. Your wings—your beautiful, powerful wings—were seized by an invisible force and twisted. They were torn apart, their bones shattered and reassembled incorrectly.

Your scream tore through the air.

“Y/N!” Lucifer’s voice, somewhere above you.

Then—impact.

You awoke in a world of red and black. Lucifer knelt beside you, his face streaked with tears.

“Y/N! Y/N, please, wake up!”

You tried to sit up—and fresh pain exploded through your body. Your wings hung limp and twisted from your back, bones protruding through the skin.

“Can I…” Your voice was barely a rasp. “Can I still fly?”

The silence was answer enough.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucifer sobbed. “This is all my fault.”

“No,” your voice contradicted. “It was my choice.”

But a small part of you—a part that grew with every painful breath—already regretted it.

Chapter 2: Years of Bitterness

The first millennia in Hell were an adjustment.

Lucifer and Lilith built their kingdom, and you were at their side. Always. You learned to hide your crippled wings beneath long coats. The constant pain became background noise to your life.

Your charm and wit—once famous in Heaven—became your armor. When the Hell Lords grew unruly, you silenced them with a single sharp remark. When bureaucracy threatened to suffocate everything, you navigated it with elegance and a pointed smile.

“Y/N could convince the Devil himself to sell his soul,” Lilith joked once.

“Darling,” your voice replied dryly, “I already work for him. Convincing wasn’t necessary.”

And then came Charlie.

“Hello, little princess,” you whispered when Lilith first placed the baby in your arms. Charlie grabbed your finger and squeezed it tight. “I’m your Uncle Y/N. And I will always be here for you.”

It was a promise you would keep.

Charlie grew quickly. A baby, then a toddler, toddling through the palace halls.

“Uncle Y/N! Uncle Y/N! Look!” Charlie ran toward you, stumbled—and Lucifer caught her.

“Careful, duckling,” he laughed. “What did you want to show Y/N?”

“I can make fire!” A tiny flame flickered above her palm.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” You knelt, your wings protesting. “You’re so talented, Charlie.”

Lucifer watched you with a soft smile. “You’re so good with her.”

“She’s easy to love.”

────୨ৎ────

Just as Charlie could really speak, you sat together by the window.

“Uncle Y/N, why do some demons wear masks?”

“Because they’re afraid to show their true face,” you explained. “Some think they can only be loved if they hide.”

“That’s sad.” Charlie leaned her head against your shoulder. “I would love them anyway.”

“You have the biggest heart I know.”

“Are you afraid to show your true face?”

The question caught you off guard. “I… sometimes. Yes.”

“But I love you anyway!” Charlie hugged you. “Daddy and Mommy do too!”

If only it were that simple.

────୨ৎ────

Eventually, Charlie began asking difficult questions.

“Why do Mom and Dad fight so much?”

“Adults argue sometimes,” you replied carefully.

“But Mom… she’s gone so often.” Charlie’s voice was small.

It was true. Lilith spent more and more time away from the palace.

“She has a lot to do,” your voice lied.

“Do you think it’s because of me?”

“No!” You pulled her into an embrace. “Charlie, no. You are perfect. This has nothing to do with you.”

She cried against your shoulder, and you held her as your wings trembled with suppressed rage.

────୨ৎ────

Charlie was grown when it happened.

She had kept the playfulness, the joy of a young adult. She still laughed too loudly, still dreamed too big.

That morning, the palace woke to screaming.

“SHE’S GONE!” Lucifer’s voice echoed through the halls. “LILITH IS GONE!”

You ran to her bedroom. Lucifer knelt on the floor, a letter in his hands.

“She left me,” he whispered, broken. “She says… she can’t do this anymore.”

“Charlie,” your voice said immediately. “Where is Charlie?”

“In her room.”

You found her curled up, already crying.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Charlie sobbed.

“Yes,” you said softly, pulling her into your arms. “Yes, sweetheart.”

“Why? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing.” You held her tight. “You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“Will you leave too?”

“Never.” It was the only thing you were certain of. “I will always be here, Charlie. Always.”

────୨ৎ────

The weeks that followed were hell.

Lucifer didn’t leave his room. Charlie tried to talk to him, but he didn’t respond.

So you took over. Everything.

Ruling Hell. Comforting Charlie. Pacifying the Lords. Keeping the bureaucracy running.

You barely slept. You barely ate. Your wings hurt constantly.

But your wit never failed. When an overlord complained, you smiled coolly and said, “How charming that you believe your opinion is relevant. Please sit down before you hurt yourself.”

“Uncle Y/N, you look awful,” Charlie remarked one evening.

“Darling, I always look fabulous. This is just my ‘I’ve kept Hell running’ look.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

“Y/N—”

“Charlie, I’m fine.” You weren’t. “Someone has to keep this place together.”

────୨ৎ────

It took six months before Lucifer reappeared.

You were in your office, surrounded by stacks of paper, when the door opened.

“Lucifer,” you said neutrally, not looking up.

“I wanted to apologize.” He stepped closer. “For everything.”

“For what?” Your voice sounded indifferent, but anger boiled inside you. “For drowning in self-pity for six months while I kept your kingdom from collapsing?”

“For disappearing. For leaving you to do everything alone. For abandoning Charlie.”

“She asked for you,” your voice said quietly. “Every day. She stood outside your door and cried. And you said nothing.”

“I couldn’t—”

“I know.” You stood up, your wings drawing together painfully. “You couldn’t. Because you were too busy pitying yourself.”

He flinched. “Y/N, that’s not fair—”

“Fair?” A bitter laugh escaped you. “You want to talk about fair? Fair would have been you being there for your daughter. Fair would have been Lilith staying. Fair would have been me still being able to fly!”

The last words came out like a scream.

“Your wings,” he whispered. “Y/N, I know—”

“You know nothing!” Tears burned in your eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like to wake up with this pain every day. Every day being reminded of what I lost. And why.”

“For me,” he said softly.

“And look where it got me.” You laughed bitterly. “I hold your kingdom together while you fall apart. I comfort your daughter while you hide. I sacrifice my health, my sanity, everything—and for what?”

“Y/N, please—”

“Go. Go back to your room, or go out there and finally take responsibility. But leave me alone.”

Silence. Then footsteps retreating.

When the door closed, you sank into your chair and let the tears fall.

Chapter 3: Slow Reconnection

But Lucifer did not return to his room.

In the weeks that followed, he began to take responsibility again. He attended meetings, made decisions, spoke with Charlie.

And he watched you.

The way you put the Lords in their place with a smile and a sharp remark. The way you made Charlie laugh even on her darkest days. The way you held everything together—even when you yourself were falling apart.

“Dad and I had lunch together today!” Charlie beamed. “He told me stories!”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” you said honestly, still flipping through reports.

“He also asked about you. He says you’re avoiding him.”

“I’m busy,” your voice replied without looking up.

“Y/N…” Charlie sat down on your desk and forced you to look at her. “I know you’re angry. But… you don’t have to carry everything alone.”

“Who else is supposed to carry it?”

“Dad. Me. We can help.”

“Charlie, I—”

“Please. At least talk to Dad. He’s really trying.”

You sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

────୨ৎ────

The conversation happened in the library.

“You’re hiding,” Lucifer said.

You didn’t look up from your book. “I’m reading. It’s a library. That’s the point.”

“You’re hiding. Just like I did.” He sat across from you. “Y/N, I know I did many things wrong. But… let me try to make them right.”

“How?” Your voice was sharp. “By suddenly deciding to be present? That doesn’t erase the last six months.”

“I know.” His voice was quiet. “But I want to start. Now.”

“Lucifer…” You closed the book. “I’m tired. So incredibly tired.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” The words exploded out of you. “I’m tired of being strong. Tired of holding everything together. Tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt!”

“Y/N…”

“And every time I look at you and Charlie—I’m reminded of what I lost! I sacrificed everything for you. My wings. My home. My future. And Lilith just left. Just like that!”

“I’m so sorry—”

“I know!” Tears streamed down your face. “But that doesn’t change anything! It doesn’t change that she left us! It doesn’t change that my wings are broken! It doesn’t change that part of me hates you for it!”

The last words were barely a whisper.

Lucifer stood, then knelt in front of you. “I know an apology isn’t enough. But Y/N… you’re not alone. I see you. I see what you sacrificed. I see what you do every day.”

“Lucifer…”

“And I will spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of it. Your sacrifice. Your friendship. Your trust. All of it.”

You looked into his eyes and saw real remorse. Real regret. Real… affection?

No. You’re imagining it.

“Okay,” you finally said. “Okay. We can try.”

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it was a beginning.

Chapter 4: Shifting Feelings

The months that followed were different.

Lucifer was present. Took responsibility. Spent time with Charlie.

And spent time with you.

“You’re staring,” you said one evening without looking up from your documents.

“I’m admiring,” Lucifer corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh? And what exactly are you admiring so intensely?”

“The way you destroyed that overlord today. ‘How charming that you think your incompetence is my problem.’ Brilliant.”

You couldn’t suppress a smile. “He was insistent.”

“You were magnificent.” Lucifer leaned back. “Do you remember in Heaven when you convinced Gabriel that clouds were actually sheep?”

You laughed—a real, full laugh. “He tried to shear them for two weeks! Michael was furious.”

“You were brilliant. Charming. Witty. Absolutely irresistible.” His eyes softened. “You still are.”

The air between you shifted. You cleared your throat and focused back on the papers. “The reports won’t wait—”

“They can.” He stood, stepped closer. “Y/N, when was the last time you took a break?”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do.” His hand rested on your shoulder. “Does it hurt? Your wings?”

“Always,” your voice admitted, still not looking up. “They hurt constantly.”

“May I try to help?”

After a moment’s hesitation, you nodded.

Lucifer positioned himself behind you, his hands hovering near the base of your wings. Then he touched you. Gently, his fingers began to massage the tense muscles. Warm magic flowed from his hands.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped you.

“Does that hurt?”

“No… it feels good.” You let the papers slip from your hands.

His hands continued, finding every knot, every tension. “Why didn’t you ever ask for help?”

“Because I thought I had to do it alone.”

“You don’t.” His voice was at your ear. “Not anymore.”

The closeness, the warmth, his touch—it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Lucifer…”

“I missed you,” he whispered. “Your closeness. The way you laugh. The way you are with Charlie. The way you can silence a room with just one look.”

Your heart raced, but you pushed the feeling aside. He was still grieving. He just wanted comfort. It meant nothing.

“You’re particularly sentimental today,” you said lightly.

“I’m honest.” His hands stilled. “Y/N… I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You didn’t turn around.

He hesitated. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

────୨ৎ────

The weeks passed. Lucifer became more attentive. Brought you coffee in the mornings. Took over meetings so you could rest. Sat quietly with you when words were too much.

You didn’t notice. Not really.

You were too busy keeping Hell running. Helping with Charlie’s hotel. Making sure you didn’t fall apart.

“He’s in love with you, you know,” Charlie said one day.

“What?” You looked up from your desk. “Who?”

“Dad. He’s in love with you.”

You laughed. “Charlie, no. He’s still grieving your mother. He’s just looking for—”

“It’s been over seven years since Mom left,” Charlie interrupted. “And I know my father. The way he looks at you… that’s not grief. That’s love.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Am I?” She smiled knowingly. “Pay attention. How he looks at you when you’re not looking. How he finds reasons to be near you. How he smiles when you enter a room.”

“Charlie, I don’t have time for—”

“That’s exactly the problem.” She stood. “You’re so busy taking care of everyone else that you don’t see when someone wants to take care of you.”

She left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

────୨ৎ────

But you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You began to watch. And Charlie was right.

The way Lucifer’s face lit up when you entered a room. The way his eyes followed you. The way he found reasons to touch you—a hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing your arm.

And the thought terrified you.

Because a part of you—a part you had ignored—felt the same.

Chapter 5: Cautious Steps

The following weeks were a careful exploration.

Holding hands. Stolen kisses. Moments of closeness that slowly dismantled the walls you had built around your heart.

One morning, you found a package on your desk.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” Lucifer encouraged, leaning in the doorway.

A pillow. Ergonomically shaped, covered in glowing runes.

“For your wings,” he explained. “I worked with ancient texts. The runes should ease the pain. It’s not perfect, but…”

“Lucifer.” Tears burned in your eyes. “This is… thank you.”

“I would give you Heaven back if I could.” He stepped closer. “Until I can, I’ll give you this.”

You pulled him into a kiss—soft, full of unspoken gratitude.

────୨ৎ────

Another time, you found him flipping through photo albums.

“Memories?”

“Yes.” He pointed to a picture—Charlie as a toddler, in your arms. “You were always so good with her. From the very beginning.”

“She makes it easy.”

“No.” He looked at you. “You make it look easy. But I know how much work it was. How much you sacrificed.”

“She’s worth it.”

“So are you.” He stood, stepped closer. “Y/N, you give so much. When do you let someone give something back to you?”

“I don’t know how,” your voice admitted quietly.

“Then let me show you.” His hand brushed your cheek. “Step by step.”

The air crackled between you.

“Lucifer…”

“I know. We have time.” He kissed your forehead. “All the time in the world.”

Chapter 6: Unfolding Love

The weeks that followed were a revelation.

Lucifer brought you coffee every morning—perfectly prepared, exactly how you liked it.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.” He kissed you gently. “But I want to. Let me take care of you.”

It felt strange. After millennia of caring for others, you didn’t know how to let yourself be cared for.

But slowly, you learned.

“How are your wings today?”

“Better. The pillow really helps.”

“Good.” His hand found yours. “I’m working on something better. Real healing, if it’s possible.”

“Lucifer, you don’t need to—”

“Yes.” His gaze was serious. “You sacrificed so much. For me. For Lilith. For Charlie. The least I can do is help you get something back.”

Tears filled your eyes. “Thank you.”

────୨ৎ────

One evening, he massaged your shoulders while you pored over reports.

“You work too much.”

“Someone has to.”

“I’m here. I can take on more.” His hands drifted lower, to the base of your wings. “You carry too much alone.”

You flinched as he touched the sensitive spot.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling his hands back.

“No, it’s just…” You turned to face him. “They’re very sensitive. Painful.”

“I know.” Guilt darkened his eyes. “And it’s my fault.”

“It was my decision.”

“A decision you made for me.” He knelt before you. “Y/N, I’ll spend the rest of my life making that right.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes.” His hands took yours. “Because I love you. And love means being there. The way you were always there for me.”

You pulled him up and kissed him—deeper this time, with need.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered against his lips.

His eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” For the first time, you were completely certain. “I’m ready.”

────୨ৎ────🍋

In his bedroom, the air was thick with tension.

Candles cast dancing shadows across the walls. Lucifer stood before you, golden eyes full of affection and desire.

“We don’t have to—” he began.

“I know.” You pulled him closer. “But I want to. I want you.”

“I want you too,” he said roughly. “So badly. But your wings… how can we—”

“I’ll be on top,” you said softly. “Lying on my back would hurt too much.”

Understanding—and even more love—flickered in his gaze. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

He kissed you—desperate, hungry, full of millennia of longing. His hands undressed you, trembling slightly.

“I waited so long,” he murmured against your neck. “So many years thinking I could never have you like this.”

“You’ve always had me,” you replied. “Always, Lucifer.”

When your clothes fell and your damaged wings were revealed, his breath caught. You flinched instinctively.

“They’re ugly,” you whispered. “I understand if—”

“No.” His voice broke. Tears filled his eyes. “No, my love. They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

His fingers traced the scarred bases as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

“These scars show how far you went for love. For me.” His voice was barely a whisper. “You are the bravest, most beautiful being I’ve ever known.”

“Lucifer,” you sobbed, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you as you both cried.

“I love you,” he whispered again and again. “Every part of you. Every perfect, scarred, beautiful part.”

You kissed him again, pushing him toward the bed. He fell back, pulling you with him.

“Show me,” he whispered. “Show me what you need.”

You knelt over him, hands on his chest. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” His hands rested on your hips. “I’m yours.”

With trembling hands, you undressed him. Each piece of clothing fell accompanied by kisses—his chest, his neck, his lips.

When you were both naked, you hesitated. “I… it’s—”

“For me too.” A gentle smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Lucifer reached for the oil he had prepared.

“May I?” he asked softly.

You nodded and lay beside him. His oil-slick fingers found you, touching you with such tenderness that you moaned.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, carefully, he prepared you. One finger, then two—stretching you gently while his other hand stroked your body, grounding you.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you gasped. “More. Please.”

A pleasant tingle ran through you. Warmth. Comfort. You had never felt like this before.

A third finger. The stretch was intense—but good. So good.

“I think you’re ready,” he whispered after a while.

You positioned yourself over him. Your wings trembled slightly, but the pain was manageable.

“Sure?” Lucifer asked once more.

“Absolutely.”

You guided him to your entrance and slowly lowered yourself onto him.

The pressure was intense. The stretch burned—but it felt right.

“Oh God,” Lucifer gasped, hands gripping your hips. “Y/N…”

“I know,” you whispered, tears streaming—not from pain, but emotion. “I feel it too.”

When you were fully seated, you paused, letting you both adjust.

“You feel perfect,” he murmured. “So perfect.”

Slowly, you began to move. Finding a rhythm. Each motion sent waves of pleasure through you.

“Lucifer,” you moaned.

“I’m here.” His hands guided you. “I’ve got you.”

The angle was perfect. Every movement hit that spot inside you that made you gasp.

“God, yes,” you panted. “Right there.”

“Here?” He thrust upward, deeper.

You cried out in pleasure. “Yes! Yes, right there!”

One of his hands moved to your length, stroking you with firm, loving precision.

“I love you,” Lucifer gasped, moving in rhythm with you. “I love you so much.”

“Show me,” you whispered. “Show me how much.”

He thrust harder. His hand moved faster. The combination was overwhelming.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “Above me. Moving on me. Perfect.”

Tears streamed down both your faces. Millennia of suppressed feelings exploded in that moment.

“I waited so long,” you sobbed. “Wanted this for so long—”

“Me too.” His free hand clasped yours. “Me too, my love.”

The pressure built. Faster now. More intense.

“Lucifer, I—” Your voice broke.

His thrusts became desperate. His hand moved faster.

“I’m scared,” you suddenly confessed, your movements faltering.

“Of what?” His eyes found yours.

“That I’ll wake up. That this isn’t real.”

“It’s real.” He pulled your hand to his heart. “Feel that? It beats for you. Only for you.”

“Promise me,” you sobbed. “Promise you’ll stay.”

“I promise.” His voice was unwavering. “Forever. Nothing will ever tear us apart.”

You kissed him desperately and began moving again—faster, harder, needier.

“I love you,” he gasped. “I love you, I love you—”

He thrust so deep you cried out. His hand moved perfectly.

“Do you feel me?” he panted. “Do you feel how real this is?”

“Yes!” you screamed. “God, yes!”

“Then let go,” he whispered. “Fall with me.”

The emotions, the sensations, his words—it was too much.

“Lucifer!”

Your climax tore through you like a storm. Your body tensed, shaking uncontrollably as you came over his hand and chest, waves of pleasure crashing through you.

“Y/N!” His own cry broke as you clenched around him, and he came with a sob, filling you with warmth.

The peak seemed endless. Wave after wave of bliss. Tears. Sobs. Overwhelming love.

When it finally faded, you collapsed onto his chest. Both crying. Both shaking. Both complete.

“That was…” you began.

“I know,” he whispered, arms wrapping around you. “I know, my love.”

“I love you,” you sobbed against his chest.

“I love you too.” He kissed your hair. “Forever.”

You stayed like that, still joined. After a while, he carefully withdrew and cleaned you both.

“Stay with me,” he whispered.

“Forever,” you promised.

“Forever,” Lucifer repeated, pulling a blanket over you.

In his arms, for the first time since the Fall, you felt truly home.

Chapter 7: Healing and Hope

The healing sessions began the next day.

Lucifer prepared a room—ancient books, magical artifacts, a comfortable couch.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Nervous,” you admitted. “But yes.”

His hands began to glow with golden magic. “Tell me immediately if it’s too painful.”

He touched the base of your wings. Warmth. Then the magic sank deeper, searching broken bones and torn tendons.

A scream tore from you.

“Y/N!” He pulled back. “I’m sorry—”

“No.” You gasped. “Keep going. I can take it.”

Hour after hour, he worked. And slowly—so slowly—something changed.

The constant pain… eased.

“It’s working,” you whispered in disbelief.

“We’re not done yet,” Lucifer warned—but his smile was hopeful.

────୨ৎ────

The sessions became routine. Every day. Charlie visited often.

After two weeks, something miraculous happened.

“Try to move them,” Lucifer encouraged.

You focused. And your wings… responded.

Just a tremble. A slight lift. But movement.

“Lu!” Tears streamed. “Did you see that?!”

“I saw it!” He laughed. “You did it!”

“We did it.” You hugged him. “Thank you.”

────୨ৎ────

Flying was still impossible. But the pain was minimal. Your wings could move, fold, spread.

“This is enough,” you said one evening. “More than enough.”

“Are you sure?” Concern filled his eyes. “I could continue—”

“No.” You kissed him. “This is perfect. We are perfect.”

“Yes.” His arm slipped around your waist. “We are.”

────୨ৎ────

One evening, Lucifer led you onto the balcony.

“Look,” he said.

The usually red sky had parted. Behind it—stars. Real stars.

“How…” Your voice failed.

“Magic.” A mischievous smile. “I thought you might miss them.”

“I do.” You leaned into him. “Every day.”

“Y/N…” He went down on one knee.

Your heart stopped.

“Marry me,” he said. “Not out of duty. Not because we must. But because I want to spend every day with you. Because you are my home.”

A ring appeared—gold, set with a stone like captured starlight.

“Lucifer,” you whispered, tears falling. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

He slipped the ring onto your finger and kissed you like a promise.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Forever.”

Epilogue: Forever United

The ceremony happened immediately.

Chaotic. Improvised. Perfect.

Charlie as best woman, radiant.

“I promise,” Lucifer said, “to love you every day. To honor you. To stand by your side until the end of time.”

“I promise,” you said, “to challenge you. To laugh with you. To hold you. To love you—with every piece of me, forever.”

“I now pronounce you husband and husband!” Charlie declared. “You may kiss!”

And he did. Deep. Passionate. Before all of Hell.

The celebration was loud and joyful. Hell itself seemed to celebrate.

Overlords, Sins—everyone gathered.

Alastor sat with his wife, Anthony, and Vox.

“We should get married too,” the florist said to Alastor.

Vox grimaced. “Don’t. Mine left me after the proposal.”

Anthony looked between the adults. “But Alastor is already my dad, isn’t he?”

You only half-heard it as Lucifer pulled you into a dance.

────୨ৎ────

Late that night, in your bedroom, you loved each other with renewed intensity.

“My husband,” Lucifer murmured.

“My husband,” you replied.

Spiritual. A union of two souls, destined for one another across millennia.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. For all eternity.”

────୨ৎ────

Months passed.

Life normalized. You ruled together. Charlie flourished.

One evening, you stood on the balcony, your wings spread.

Scarred. Broken. But yours.

“Beautiful,” Lucifer said.

“They’re ruined.”

“They survived.” He stepped beside you. “Just like us.”

“Fallen angels.”

“Perhaps.” Lucifer corrected gently. “But… risen. Through love.”

And as you stood there, it felt like flying.

Better, even.

Because you were not alone.

“Forever?”

“Forever. And longer.”

The kiss tasted of promise and hope.

Fallen wings, perhaps.

But found love.

Found happiness.

Found home.

And that was more than enough.

THE END 💫

𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎𓆩✧𓆪🍎

Autor's Note:

Guys, I’m out myself. The first fanfic I ever read was between two guys I really shipped. I was, like, 13+ or something.

I only do stuff like this for requests, tbh. I feel a little shy uploading my own freaky one-shots… maybe that’ll change in the future. I have so many ideas! It’s only been a month since I started <3

Please let me know what you want me to write next! 💌

[timeistheessence]

Fault Lines

When an earthquake hits Los Angeles, Buck and Eddie are forced to face more than just the shifting ground beneath them. In the wake of disaster, buried feelings rise to the surface—and once spoken, there's no going back.

Snippit:

A brutal, shuddering roar tore through the ground. Buck barely had time to shout Eddie’s name before the floor dropped out beneath them.

A beam came down with a scream of rebar, catching Eddie mid-step.

Buck dove forward, attempting to shield his head as the debris collapsed around them.Something slammed into Buck’s shoulder, knocking him sideways into a wall. He hit hard, pain flaring, but not enough to stop him.

He groaned, coughing, pushing off the broken concrete. “Eddie?”

No answer.

“Eddie!”

A moan—low, pained—barely audible over the settling wreckage.

Buck turned, heart seizing. And saw him—half-buried beneath a fallen beam, blood streaking down the side of his head, eyes dazed and barely open.

“Shit, shit, no—” Buck stumbled toward him, voice breaking , hands shaking. “Eddie, talk to me. Eddie!”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65356444/chapters/168169729

[blue-foxglove]

I just published part of my FIRST book! Check it out? Link below!

Solid Ground (Exclusive Preview) - Solid Ground - Exclusive Preview (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1506755983-solid-ground-exclusive-preview?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Elaine_Ryan 

In the sultry depths of Louisiana's delta, Solid Ground follows Blaire, a young woman drawn into an irresistible romance with three brothers who each have their shadows. Baron, an Army veteran who finds solace in Blaire's tenderness; Cale, finding strength in her compassion as he rebuilds his life after alcoholism tore his family apart; and Dominic, who lives with bipolar disorder and seeks balance through her unwavering presence. As their connection deepens, Blaire falls not for one, but all three brothers, captivated by each man's intensity, quirks, and flaws. The best part is, they've all fallen for her too. 

***This book contains an instance of relationship violence, excessive explicit (but definitely consensual) sexual content, alcoholic recovery, and instances of manic and depressive episodes induced by bipolar disorder as well as an attempted suicide. It is intended for readers 18 and up only.***

[bhaddbabyy19]

New account 😘 follow my shit for more content 😝

[ladysif-writes-chaos]

The Lucky One

Steve Rogers/ Original Female Character

Rated: Explicit

⚠️Warnings: Sketchy Hydra Experimentation, Dubious Science, Dubious Content, Artificial Insemination, Non-con pregnancy, Miscarriages, Minor Character Death, Mentions of Torture, Loss of Virginity.

Status: WIP

Summary:

Ernest Hemingway famously said that you make our own luck, but in a world where super soldiers are forged, hidden cities thrive on advanced technology, extraterrestrials breach our skies, and a single gene holds the power to reshape destinies, luck seems like a distant concept. Yet amidst this extraordinary backdrop, Siri’s story unfolds—a tale of unlikely fortune that begins far from the realm of luck.

You can read this Ao3 and Wattpad

[samadiw]

Congrats on reaching 2000 followers @scdramione 🥳🥂

Thank you for introducing me to the world of Tumblr. 🤗

Yes, down the rabbit hole we go! 😂

A small celebratory gift from me to you. Hope you like it. ❤

Fluffy smutty drabble and art to go with. 🔥💋

.

DAMN THAT MALFOY TONGUE

All the girls spoke about his technique, apparently, his tongue did things most fingers couldn't

Most whispered it when they saw him around but others like Pansy brazenly boasted about it in a carrying voice.

"Shut up about orgasms, Pans"

"You need to shag, Granger."

"Sod off."

He was talented, it was a widely known fact but Hermione could care less, that was until he stared at her intently from across the Potions classroom making her wet her cotton knickers

Bollocks, no one was that fucking good.

A cool confident voice drawled, "Granger, you busy on Friday?"

Flustered, Hermione took a deep breath and composed herself, "Um..no, why?"

Draco smirked, "I hear you doubt my skills, I would love nothing more than to set the record straight."

Hermione widened her eyes in shock and fell over her words, "What? Umm...I hardly think that's appropriate."

Draco tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear and whispers, "Consider it research, I'll see you on Friday."

Hermione stared after the retreating ice blonde fist bumping Nott and Blaise, the Slytherin boys glance over their shoulder at her and wink.

Friday comes around and Hermione is shitting metaphorical bricks.

They share a dorm so it does make things easier, discretion is key.

5 PM, the clock chimes and she jumps out of her skin, her fingers resemble ten bald men.

"Are you ready, Hermione?"

Did he just use her given bloody name?

Take me now, you vile hunk of all that is good and unholy.

She turns to find him leaning against the door of his room, his legs crossed at the ankles an amused expression on his face.

Hermione clears her throat, "Umm...I've changed my mind, this is a horrible idea."

Draco closes the distance them, picks her up and carries her kicking and screaming into his room and dumps her unceremoniously onto his bed.

The bedding that covers the large bed is expensive and the silk material feels like creamy butter under her fingertips.

Hermione snaps to attention and hisses, "What the bloody fuck are you doing?"

Draco ignores her yammering and kisses her hard and senseless.

Dear Merlin, was that his tongue parting her lips?

An involuntary moan escapes and she melts into the embrace.

He kisses down her throat, down her stomach and kneels in front of her.

His long fingers disappear under her skirt and Hermione brings her legs together and frowns, "Steady on, going a wee bit fast, aren't we?"

He helps her out of her lacy green knickers.

Yes, fucking green lacy shite because of course, she was trying to impress the incorrigible slut.

Draco smirks, "You're going to fucking love this, Granger."

She highly doubted that but...oh...

He runs a finger down her slit and a gasp flies out before she can stop it.

Bending to her hairless mound, he parts her pussy lips with his insistent tongue and seeks the rosy goodness within.

He goes to work and it's only a matter of minutes before she's screaming his name and cumming on his tongue.

"Oh God," Hermione whimpers breathlessly.

Draco pushes her back, wipes her dripping womanly juices off his chin and winks, "Not God, Draco fucking Malfoy."

Hermione bites her lip and let's him take her in every way possible.

DAMN THAT MALFOY TONGUE.

[enterthetadpole]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 2 has arrived! Special thank you to @soho-x and @thinkanddoodle-rhink for their extra help!