Imagine Lucifer and Jack "trying" to bound as father and son, but Jack keeps being an asshole to him, talking back and being a brat, absolutely disrespectful. Until the most diabolical response came across his mind.
𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗿: Thats it, you talk back one more time...
Both him and Jack make intense eye contact, with a look Jack was just daring Lucifer to finish his thought
𝙇𝙪𝙘𝙞𝙛𝙚𝙧: I'm fucking your mom!
Jack gasped like you just insulated his bloodline and blots out of the room like a grumpy teen who was told a yo mama joke. With all his grumpy attitude, he found you hanging out randomly in the kitchen and just came to hug you.
𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧: hey bud, what's up?
You asked hugging him back confused than saw Lucifer storming in with his hands in the air
Hi if you still are accepting prompts would you perhaps consider 28 with Lucifer 🙏 pleases thanks you and everything in between
Light
Genre; Hurt/comfort
Word Count; 1.8k
Warnings; Canon-typical violence and threat
Pairings; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader
Prompts; “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” Requests closed at time of writing.
Of course I would! I am very sorry for how long it took me to write this, but I love this particular prompt for Lucifer and I really really enjoyed writing this story. Also, Also – true form Lucifer!! 😁 Hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
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Yet another hunt had gone wrong. One minute, you were investigating what you had thought was a mass ghost possession case. The next, you had been ambushed by a swarm of demons. It was dark, the abandoned warehouse you had been examining lined with hulking pieces of rusted machinery. Some of the locals had mentioned hearing strange noises coming from inside, like huge numbers of people were walking around in the middle of the night. Anyone who went to find out what was going on tended not to come back.
So of course, that was the next stop for yourself, the Winchesters, Castiel, and, much to everyone else’s distress, Lucifer. He could hardly be left to his own devices back at the bunker, and you refused to keep being sidelined for babysitting duties. Any of the others staying behind with him was never even considered. Cas had paused at the entrance to the warehouse, as if something was nagging at the back of his mind. But he shook it off, walked inside anyway. And when the demons arrived, the angel was powerless.
The place was ringed with angel warding, powerful enough to contain even Castiel’s energy. Lucifer’s proverbial wings were already clipped, his power bound by something ancient Rowena had cast. He could hardly do anything to help. Castiel was left fighting hand to hand with his angel blade, no better off than yourself or Sam and Dean. There were so many demons.
The group of you were quickly being overwhelmed. Lucifer watched on from behind you, impassive as demons began to fall and you started to be pushed back. Weapons grew slick with blood, crackling ozone arced into the air with the death of every foe. Your breath burned in your lungs and your arms trembled with exertion. Your boot caught on something and you almost tripped, forced into leaping backwards to avoid a demon’s punch. One eventually went for Lucifer, who, even powerless, snapped its neck as easily as breathing. Another took Sam to the ground and Dean drove a boot into its skull to protect his brother. Sam was slow to regain his feet.
“We need to get to the doors,” Cas called, his low voice almost frantic.
That was enough to make you concerned. After a moment, you realised why. No matter how many demons you killed, more came to take their place. They seemed to spawn directly out of thin air, which meant the warehouse had some connection to Hell that you hadn’t found yet. With the angels powerless, you would eventually be overwhelmed.
You glanced back to see Lucifer throw a deadly punch at the second demon suicidal enough to try taking him on and a thought occurred to you. Dean was thrown back against an unyielding concrete wall and Cas dove in front of him just in time to block a blow his friend was too disoriented to see.
“I can’t handle this if we don’t leave,” the angel tried again, but there was no way you were making it to the door.
You caught movement from the corner of your eye and dodged the worst of a kick aimed towards you at the last second, but the heel of the demon’s shoe reached your hip and threw you off balance. A second took its chance and landed a punch to your gut, as a third hauled you into a headlock from behind. You dropped your blade and scrambled to clear your airway, to plant your feet solidly enough to twist under and out from its grasp. You gulped air, blinked, and a fist was coming straight for your face.
Time seemed to slow down. You saw realisation dawn on Dean’s face, the way Sam’s teeth bared as he spun towards you. You raised a leg in front of you to kick the thing before it could land the hit, but as your mind screamed faster, faster, faster, your movement only slowed more. The thing’s eyes gleamed black and then, inches from you, its punch was halted absolutely by a hand gripping its’ forearm. Lucifer.
The fight wound back up to full speed as the archangel snapped the demon’s arm backwards with an awful crack. He threw it to one side like a rag doll. Sam returned to his own fight as you turned back and ducked beneath the arm of the demon still holding you, only for Lucifer to knock it cold – or possibly even dead – with a fist to its face the second you were clear. You staggered upright in time to see his eyes blazing crimson, vicious enjoyment carved into his vessel’s face. Then, what had previously been merely background noise amped up until you recognised what you were hearing. It was the high pitched scream of angelic energy, building and building as light began to erupt around the Devil. He was turned half away from you, and you saw the shadow of great wings arch out behind him.
One by one, the demons stopped fighting to stand and stare in silence. Castiel followed their gazes, his expression dropping into something angry and –
“Go!”
The angel had grabbed Sam and Dean, hauling them towards the door on the far side of the warehouse. You were further away from it than them and Lucifer himself was blocking your path. The noise and light became almost blinding as you bolted for cover, for what little good that would do. You would never make it to the door. Lucifer’s energy reached a fever pitch, his form more ethereal light now than clumsy human vessel, and then it crashed outward in a wave of immeasurable power.
You squeezed your eyes shut and covered your head with your arm, dropping to the ground in the last second before it hit you. But it didn’t hurt. Frowning, you slowly opened your eyes to observe the carnage around you. Except it wasn’t carnage. Everything was pure white, bright; comfortably warm energy was pulsing around you in glowing smoke and silver tendrils of power. And Lucifer was at the centre of it.
How you identified the being as Lucifer, you didn’t know. It was based on a feeling more than anything you could actually see. Because the being that was so clearly him defied description. It was huge, made up of shapes and symbols you had no prayer of understanding. Countless wings were studded with bright blue eyes, all blinking in unison and all focused on you. The wings beat all at once, and the rings curved around it shifted, each in a different direction, like someone had clicked a dial one position further on. A moment later, it happened again.
Your mouth fell open, uncomprehending of what you were seeing, and in the next second it was all gone.
Sound rushed back in with a weight that told you the sound you hadn’t heard before it had been much, much louder. The warehouse was almost too dark for you to see, and it took you a moment to understand that the dust floating through the air had been the demons. Lucifer’s eyes glowed red through the gloom, trained absolutely on you.
You forgot to check for your friends.
The archangel took a step towards you, just one, and you scrambled to your feet and backwards on instinct. You’d finally had some small glimpse into what Lucifer truly was, into how stupidly naïve and blasé you had been with him up until now. Whatever Rowena had used to bind his power was long gone, and he could wipe you from existence with little more than a thought. You couldn’t afford to underestimate him again.
He said your name, but when you squinted you could just make out that his lips hadn’t moved. His voice was inside your head, inescapable and all encompassing. Your hands shook violently.
You were forced to stop backpedalling when you ran into a wall, only to find yourself pressing your hands to the concrete behind you as if you would find some magical escape route. Where Lucifer had paused, he began walking towards you again. You heard your own name in your head again, in his voice, something gentle and soft like he was trying to coax you into calming down. When he drew close enough for you to clearly see his face, you couldn’t view the vessel as anything other than that, just a façade for the ancient thing which hid behind it. His presence seemed as huge in the silent warehouse as it had looked mere moments prior, yet there was nothing more than empty space behind the man in front of you.
I didn’t hurt you, he spoke directly into your consciousness. His voice still sounded like his vessel’s, but only in so much as it sounded like the untold thousands of other voices you’d heard in your life. I’m not going to hurt you.
You could barely make yourself swallow.
“Why?”
Your voice was rasping, like sandpaper dragged over plaster. It sounded like you’d been denied water for days.
I don’t want you to be afraid of me.
You failed to hear the pounding of fists and boots against the warehouse door, now locked immovably from the inside, or the shouts of Sam, Dean and Cas. Desperate to get inside, to find out if you were okay. To fight an insurmountable force if you weren’t.
You swallowed again.
“Why?”
Lucifer smiled gently, slid a cool hand across your cheek, steadying you, as you pressed yourself back harder against the wall. Then the doors burst open and your friends rushed in. They were alright, you realised as they yelled at him to get away from you, not to hurt you.
His words, I won’t hurt you, echoed in your mind. But he backed off without comment, without sparing them a single glance. Castiel, furious, pressed his blade to Lucifer’s throat.
“You know that won’t kill me, brother,” the archangel said mildly, finally meeting Castiel’s gaze.
“No,” the angel spat, “but we’ve replaced the angel warding with archangel warding.”
Lucifer hummed – he already knew that. How long had it been since he’d killed the demons?
“You’re not going anywhere until we get Rowena on the phone,” Dean growled over his shoulder, now that he was standing between yourself and Lucifer and fussing over you. His hands landed on your arms, his face drawn with worry. “You alright?” He said quietly, his voice a little rough.
You nodded. As Lucifer had promised, you were absolutely fine. Dean squeezed your arms like he wanted to draw you into a hug but refused to with Lucifer standing there. Sam got through to Rowena on the third try, and you knew that Lucifer’s power would once again be bound in short order. But you doubted that magic much stronger than what Rowena had initially used even existed. If the archangel had broken it once, he would be able to do it again.
"Y/n, we can leave. Finally, we can leave." He was almost to tears trying to explain to you. "I finally got the Impala, now all we gotta do is book a flight outta here." Dean was getting frustrated with you, just a little 19-year-old. "Dean, I can't just leave here, my mother." Dean angrily threw the keys in his hands. "This was no place for a kid; all Father did was abuse us."
You sighed. "John, isn't-" You couldn't finish your sentence; the boys didn't know, and you weren't supposed to tell. He was sweet; he just had to have a front. For the world he was a part of. Or that's what you tried to believe. "He isn't what?!" He was whisper-yelling, almost red in the face. "He's not like that with me!" You said at the same tone level.
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Parings including: Castiel X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader, Dean Winchester X Reader, John Winchester X Reader, Lucifer X Reader
This is a super slow burn where information of the past is slowly revealed, enjoy <3
Warnings including (but not limited to): graphic violence and abuse depiction, smut and foul language <there will be warnings on each individual chapter post>
**This story has multiple flashbacks italicized with a hyphen (-) above and below them unless the start of the chapter says otherwise. **
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Chapter One: Happy Visit
Chapter Two: Power of an Ex-Lover
Chapter Three: Partial Acceptance
Chapter Four: Mistakes and Lies
Chapter Five: John Winchester
Chapter Six: Auctioneer
Chapter Seven: Eileen the Good
Chapter Eight: So Then, Choose
Chapter Nine: The Start
Chapter Ten:
Chapter Eleven:
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
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This may or may not be all the chapters of this series so please keep a look out for any updates! Let me know if you would like to be tagged!!
Mood board at the top was made by @meadow-melody idk if she is deactivated or not but it was amazing of them 💕
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?”
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.
request: “ok so um hiyaa! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Lucifer (from supernatural) x reader fc where like we take him to the beach and he's all nervous or feels out of place then we convince him to go into the water and like its all just a bunch of fluff.”
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thank you so much for your request! this is literally so cute? and i love the beach so much, so this is right up my alley! i hope you like it <3 @flintn0tf0und
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Beach Day
pairing: lucifer x gn!reader (established relationship)
summary: you decide to take lucifer out for a fun day on the beach
content warning: none, this is pure fluff
word count: 0.6k
notes: this might be out of character slightly due to the fluff but also due to the fact that i haven’t watched supernatural in a hot minute. i’m due for a rewatch 🙂↕️
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The summer sun has been unrelenting, making the days long and air thick with humidity. Of course, Lucifer isn’t complaining as he’s adapted to literally living in Hell before. You, however, have not, and you cannot handle this heatwave.
You eventually convince him to go to the beach, wanting to escape the heat and soak in the salty waves. You pack up some snacks, sunscreen, beach towels, umbrellas, beach chairs, and whatever else you may need to enjoy your day in the sunny breeze.
As you make your way through the public access dock, you realize you weren’t the only one with the idea to hit the beach today to deal with the heat wave. The beach is packed, the sand and surf lined with people lying on beach towels and swimming in the waves. Lucifer looks apprehensive when he realizes this too, his pale skin becoming a bit flushed, but you motion for him to continue following you until you find a free spot on the beach.
The sand is hot beneath your feet, the wind whipping against your hair and towels. Once the towels are securely laid out and the umbrellas are stuck deeply into the sand, Lucifer begins to lay on his designated towel underneath his umbrella, bringing his forearm over his eyes with a huff. You look at him curiously but don’t question him, wanting to get in the water first before laying in the heat.
“I’m gonna get in the water. You wanna join?” you ask Lucifer, your voice louder than usual so you can be heard over the wind.
“Nah. You go ahead,” he responds, not bothering to remove his forearm from his eyes. You look at him with your lips twisted for one more moment before heading for the shore and dipping your toes in, getting adjusted to the water. You fully submerge into the water, feeling the coolness of it seep into your hair and skin. When you emerge and look to the shore, you see Lucifer still lying on the towel with his forearm over his face.
You decide to walk out of the water and pester him a bit, wanting him to join you. You want to have a fun beach day with him, after all. Lucifer feels your presence looming over him, and he finally peels his forearm off of his eyes.
“What’s up?” he asks, his eyes squinting against the bright sun despite being underneath the shade of his umbrella. You nudge his arm gently with your foot.
“I want you to join me in the water. C’mon, it feels great!” you say, your tone chipper as you lean down to grab his hands and gently pull him up. He grumbles as you pull him up, reluctantly following you as you pull him to the shore.
“Uh, I don’t know, Y/N,” he says, his face flushing again now that he’s fully in the sun again, feet in the water. You study him, wondering why he’s becoming apprehensive again.
“Why, what’s wrong?” you ask him.
“I don’t know, I just feel…I don’t know, like, exposed?” he says, his arms crossed but staying next to you in the shore. You give him a small, reassuring smile.
“Oh. Hey. Listen, I get it. But I promise you, no one is paying attention to you. Everyone is focusing on themselves and enjoying themselves. Look,” you say, just as you splash him with water. He turns away in surprise, but it manages to get him out of his funk when he realizes no one was paying attention. You pull him further into the water, laughing when he grumbles at how cold it is. He eventually adjusts to the temperature, and he begins to feel more comfortable and relaxed in the water.
You two spend the rest of the day together on the beach in and out of the water. You’re happy that Lucifer became more comfortable on the beach, allowing you to spend more time with him in the water. You swam, splashed each other, ate some snacks, and were able to beat the heat wave together the whole day, making for an amazing summer day together.
