#lucifer morningstar (the sandman)

[theswordmaiden]

The Only one I'd ever Worship

Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader

first time writing for Lucifer, which has been sitting in my docs for 2 months (:

warnings: NSFW fingering, slight degrading/praise?, thigh riding, slight blasphemy?, etc // word count: 2507

The Lightbringer's hand tightened possessively around your waist, leaving the faint outline of a bruise in its wake — one you'd wear proudly for such devotion. A subtle reminder of who you belonged to, of who owned you, and it was a reminder that you welcomed greedily, relishing in the feeling of being theirs. 

As they mindlessly traced patterns down your body, you couldn't help but shiver from the intimacy of their touch, the familiarity it felt to have their warm fingertips against your cool skin — fingertips molding against you like clay, leaving the faint tingling sensation that nipped at your flesh whenever they pulled away.

Allowing their touch to continue to roam, now crawling up your abdomen, nails scratching against the softness of your stomach, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in their wake that left you shivering. Lucifer's hands now cup your breasts, kneading and molding them to their touch, a low moan escaping from your lips as you pressed yourself closer to them; a silent plea for more.

As their thumbs traced slow, lazy circles over your hardening nipples, your breath caught in your throat. Trying to suppress any further noises, you tilted your head to the side, sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh of your bottom lip as they continued their torturous teasing. "What's wrong, my lamb?" They'd coo in faux concern against one of your ears, letting their hot breath ghost down the side of your throat, leaving your skin prickled with goosebumps in its wake. The Devil knew exactly where and how to touch you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy, allowing you to feel Heaven's call to you with open arms, to welcome you back. . . only to hold you there, teasingly, never allowing you inside the gates of release until they deemed you worthy of such a feat. 

Of course, they'd indulge in your pleasures from time to time, which was how you found yourself in your current predicament; Lucifer sat on their throne, the flickering flames that lined the hall giving them a false halo framed above their head, as you — their most prized possession, the sweetest angel so obediently eager to please your Lord — were perched on top of their lap, grinding your needy cunt against one of their thighs.

"Please," came your pleading voice, heavy with an insatiable thirst of desire, as your head fell backwards against their shoulder, fitting perfectly into the crook they so perfectly provided.

"Hm? Please what, my pretty pet?" they asked with a soft hum, amusement twinkling within their eyes as they peered down at you through long blonde lashes that wisped against the soft pinkness of their cheeks. Lucifer pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing your back against their chest. "Tell me what it is you desire, angel." 

"Please, your Majesty," you'd beg once more, desperate for their touch and the release only they could provide you, that only they could give you. ". . need your touch." Your voice, so full of yearning and longing, so pathetic yet perfect to please your Devilish master with.

The Lightbringer chuckled darkly in a twisted mix of pleasure and power, reveling in how easily you fell into submission for them. They lifted a hand to the side of your face and traced the back of their knuckles down your cheek gently, before roughly gripping the sides of your chin and jerking your head back to meet their gaze. A quiet mewl drew from the depths of your throat at the action, leaving your clit throbbing as your hips continued to eagerly move against them, desperate to seek friction to relieve the ache.

"Look at you," Lucifer taunted, their gaze roaming down every inch of your covered form and back up again. As the Devil's arm unraveled their hold, their hand now found its way to your hip, guiding your movements back and forth into their lap at their own desired pace. "Spread apart for the Ruler of Hell," they sneered, "How desperate are you, silly angel? Such a pathetic pet, so willing to please your Lord."

The hand that was gripping your chin relinquished you, once again turning gentle as their fingertips slowly brush through your hair, tucking away any loose strands that were impending their access to your skin. "Does it feel good, you dirty little thing?" they whispered so softly, lips ghosting across the shell of your ear and moving to the newly exposed flesh of your throat. “To be the only one I’d ever worship?”

Lucifer's chest rumbled with a low growl as they scraped their sharp teeth against the pulse point, sinking into the flesh and sucking on it harshly. Marking you—Claiming you as theirs. Their perfect pet, such a desperate thing you were, weren't you? So pathetic that your hips rolled faster against their flexed thigh as you whimpered in response to their bite, a muffled 'God, yes' pulling from your throat in response to their question as you moaned. . .

. . . only to earn an amused huff from the Demon Lord as they pulled away, leaving behind a mark that they soothed with a soft and tender kiss. "God?" they repeated, the word dripping with bitterness as it rolled off their sharp tongue. "Aren't you just a good little angel, still having faith in Him.."

They leaned in close to your ear once more and whispered, "Tell me, my beautiful lamb. . Do you still pray to him while I play with your needy hole? Do you hope that He and your angel brethren watch as I make you cum over and over again on my just fingers alone?"

Your cheeks burned at the Devil's words, a mixture of shame and arousal washing over you while you squirmed in their lap, brows pinched together as you bit your bottom lip. There was certainly some truth to it, there was no denying that — just as there was no denying how depraved you felt at the thought of Him watching, to see just how low you've truly fallen for your lover. How your stomach fluttered at just the thought of riding their fingers, the walls of your cunt greedily pulsating around their lithe digits, wanting to milk the sensation as long as you could. .

..oh, patience is a virtue, little one. . .

But as the Lightbringer continues to tease you, their touch lowering to the bottom of that pristine white toga adorned on your body, grasping at the hem and gently pulling it up to bunch at your waist, all rational thoughts fled from your mind. All you could think of was them. Their touch, taste, smell — oh, it drove you mad with lust and desire. The throbbing heat between your plush thighs grew, and you were sure, no, absolutely positive, that your underwear was entirely ruined. 

Thinking you've had enough of the torture for now... Lucifer's hands slowly trailed back up your body until they reached your chest once more, squeezing your breasts through the thin silk fabrics that covered them. "Such a sensitive little thing," they cooed, pinching and rolling your nipples between their thumb and forefingers for a moment before releasing. Sliding back down your stomach, their hands then move your legs further apart, nails scratching against the material of your panties before sliding beneath it and through the soft curls of your mound until finally reaching your wet slit.

"Oh, my poor pet," Lucifer purred in delight, enjoying the way you trembled against their touch, causing their leather wings to twitch and flutter proudly behind them on their throne, "you're soaked."

Two fingers swipe between your folds, pulling away just before reaching your swollen clit. As you whined in displeasure, earning a tut from the Devil, they brought their hand up to inspect their fingers — your arousal webbed in between, glistening.They turned to face you, bringing their hand closer to your lips.

"Open your mouth." Your mouth instantly falls open before the two digits now pressed against the velvety texture of your tongue, slowly curling downwards. Without needing further instructions, you happily wrapped your lips around the entirety of them and sucked the tangy taste of yourself off of them, tongue swirling around.

And if you were to peer up at your lover, you'd find the Devil watching eagerly with darkened eyes, a slight twitching just beneath the scar of their lip as a rumbling growl escaped from in between them. They slowly pulled back after a moment, a web of your spit connected from their flesh and your lips, more than satisfied with your obedient nature, now wiping the back of their fingers across your face to rid of your saliva before moving to your clothing.

"I want you to watch, sweet one.." their voice husked against your ear, the darkness of their gaze lowering to your chest as careful hands remove the straps of your toga and unfasten the golden belt, allowing it to cascade down your form like water to gather into a pile of silks on the ground. "..the way I touch my beloved pet." Two long fingers hook around the band of your panties and pull them down with ease, exposing your already pulsating cunt to the warmth of the Underworld's air.

Your hips bucked against the palm of their hand as it returned to your heat, the palm pressed deliciously against your clit as their slender digits spread apart your folds, tracing the tips of their fingers around your entrance and a pathetic whine escaping from your throat that left the Lightbringer chuckling. 

"I love to hear how desperate my little lamb gets for my touch," they coo in the sickly sweet voice that leaves your face warm and a hue of pink blooming across the apples of your cheeks. "Look at how wet you are for me, I've hardly touched you." The Devil spoke so softly against your ear, pressing lazy kisses against the shell of it as they dipped the entirety of their fingers into you with ease, growling as they felt your walls fluttering around them. 

"I could spend eternity between these legs, my darling girl.."

Lucifer's other hand reached up to return to playing with your nipples, rolling the taut buds before giving them a sharp pinch. Their name spilled from your lips as they began to move their fingers in and out, curling it into the spongy sweet spot that left you growing wetter — the sopping wet noises from between your thighs only spurred your Devil further, their pace growing a bit faster while their thumb stretched out to rub tight circles to your clit.

The way they toyed with you only made you more desperate to chase the taste of release, and -you ever so obediently- spread your legs as wide as you could for them. Lucifer purred in delight as they whispered soft nothings into your ear, once or twice pulling their fingers out of you entirely to deliver a quick slap! to your cunt before returning their fingers to where they belonged with a newfound vigor.

“Such a beautiful sight.” “You take it so well. . Like you were created just for me.” “Who does this belong to?” “That’s right. Mine.”

The fire in your body grew as Lucifer's fingers thrust in and out of you with ease, dripping desperately down the length of their fingers and your own thighs. Every touch, every whispered word, sent jolts through your body, building the already growing desire to cum for them higher and higher; always pushing you to the edge before pulling away when you spasmed too much, giving you a minute to cool down before returning right back to relentlessly tormenting the aching Heaven between your thighs. They'd chuckle at each of your mumbled words of protests, only to shut you up by returning to rub against your swollen clit.

"Luci-oh! Please. . ple- please," your poor little mind was too lost in your daze to form a coherent thought, eyes clouded over by a fog of pure pleasure as you mindlessly babbled. "Let me cum, please- please, my Lord." Your body - hell, your entire soul - sang with desire for them to the point it was almost overwhelming, tears building up in your eyes as they oh so cruelly denied such a blissful state to flood you. .

Lucifer could only chuckle, feeling their lips curling into a smirk at the sight of you, quivering and clenching around them. The hand that had been playing with your breasts slid up to gently wrap their fingers around your throat, applying just enough pressure to silently bring your attention to them. "Such a needy thing, aren't you?" they spoke gently, leaning in close so their hot breath fanned across the side of your face. Another squeeze, though slightly tighter, as if demanding a response.

"Yes.. my- my Lord," you somehow managed to form out through the tightness in your throat. "Please.. ah- let me cum," you continued to beg, unable to take the edging much longer.

"Cum for me," Lucifer spoke through ragged breath. "Show me just how much you need me." And with those words, their hand loosened from your throat and held your hip instead, leaving an indent to the flesh, as their fingers grew into a relentless pace. Your body writhed against them, arching off from their chest as your mouth fell open, the most unforgiving of obscenities spewing from your tongue as you grind harder against their hand. 

With one final curl to their fingers that hit the most delectable spot, your orgasm crashed over you. Your entire body shook and trembled as you tightened around them, the Devil slowing their pace to allow you to ride your high, as every nerve grew hot with pleasure until you were nothing but a quivering mess in their arms.

Your legs — still twitching and now aching from the prolonged position, covered in a light blanket of perspiration — fell limp against Lucifer, dangling over the length of their legs and you collapsed back into them. Carefully their fingers withdrew from your slick heat once your breathing evened out, licking their fingers clean before wrapping a wing around you to keep you close. Reassuring praise and hums left their lips as they kissed and pecked at your cheek and down to your shoulder.

"Sh, shh, my darling," Lucifer cooed, gazing down at you with a soft smile as they took in your tired expression. "Such a good girl for me, weren't you? Hm?" You could feel their warm lips against your skin, both soothing and comforting, as you gave a quiet hum in response while you basked in the afterglow from your climax.

As your head rested against their chest, feeling the steady beating of their heart beneath your ear, they continued to hold you; slowly running their fingers through your hair, the sensation making your eyes grow heavier until inevitably falling shut. They'd hold you like this until you woke, only to repeat it all over again for the rest of eternity.

. . though who would complain?

─────⋅⋆.‧₊☆₊‧.⋅⋆─────────⋅⋆.‧₊☽₊‧.⋅⋆─────────⋅⋆.‧₊☆₊‧.⋅⋆─────

this is sick and i need to be put down. immediately. sorry this is horrible it's been a while. you can tell where i got burnt out at the end lol.

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman lucifer #the sandman lucifer smut #sandman lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar the sandman #gwendoline christie #gwendolinechristie #theswordmaiden

[rippersz]

𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)

(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore. 

They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you. 

Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety. 

—

Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed. 

Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby. 

But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while... 

Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh. 

You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh. 

It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to. 

You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience? 

Thinking about it gave you a headache. 

For where was the point in wondering? 

You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because- 

Because-

Wait. 

Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of… 

“Fuck.” 

You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right. 

“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood. 

You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill. 

There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy. 

“Help! Help!”

Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell. 

A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength. 

“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet. 

In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.

“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.  

The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you. 

Too late. 

You were too late. 

And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead. 

Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage. 

 Too late. 

You were too late. 

You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed. 

But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you. 

Something–a sound–made you freeze. 

It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement. 

Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag. 

Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did. 

The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then- 

“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap. 

“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere. 

You shook your head.

“Words. Use them.” 

“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle. 

“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life. 

“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.

“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.” 

“And the others?” 

You blinked. “Others? What oth-”

“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent. 

Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in. 

“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.” 

The gun still didn’t move. 

“They don’t ambush. What really happened?” 

Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away. 

But you didn’t. 

You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures. 

So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth. 

“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.” 

“How long since?” 

“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own. 

“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned. 

Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.

“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-” 

Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world. 

“-we can’t just leave them-” 

“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”

“-not stupid. We need more people-” 

Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window. 

“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone. 

With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.

“Woah-” 

“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?” 

The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told. 

“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade. 

But she didn’t move. 

It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak. 

“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed. 

Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went. 

“More like a rat.” 

And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.

You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you. 

“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot. 

With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest. 

You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked. 

“Um- thank you for-”

“Shoot them.” 

“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched. 

“You heard me. Shoot them.” 

“Pha-”

“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?” 

“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off. 

“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”

You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude. 

“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact. 

Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming. 

“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers. 

“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-” 

“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return. 

“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view. 

As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.

—

“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep. 

Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun. 

“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word. 

Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you. 

“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass. 

The grass. 

You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-

oh.

Oh. 

You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit. 

How fucking lucky were you? 

“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance. 

Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that. 

After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger. 

—

“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead. 

It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.

Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.

“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches. 

Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her. 

“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms. 

The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.

“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall. 

You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps. 

“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority. 

“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline. 

The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck. 

“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up. 

“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.” 

“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group. 

“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself. 

That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.

“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway. 

Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue. 

“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.” 

Lucifer? Naked under the what? 

You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and  crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were… 

“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?” 

“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?” 

“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.” 

“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.

“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”

“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.

“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.

“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?” 

Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.

Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body. 

“Okay. Yes. Sure.” 

“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider. 

“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors. 

You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you. 

“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes. 

Red lips twitched. 

“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.” 

“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.

“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder. 

“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.

You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up. 

“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.” 

You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat. 

“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully. 

You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right. 

Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat. 

“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.” 

A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard. 

“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through. 

“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang. 

“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.” 

“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips. 

Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done. 

“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time? 

“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa. 

“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?” 

Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded. 

“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted. 

“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.” 

Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath. 

“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.

“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it. 

And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you. 

Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence. 

“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.

“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.” 

She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.” 

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow. 

It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away. 

“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.

At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering. 

“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant. 

Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand. 

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.” 

It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts. 

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie characters #larissa weems #captain phasma #jan stevens #lucifer morningstar the sandman #brienne of tarth #jane murdstone #anna welcome to marwen #miranda hilmarson #x reader fanfic #x reader fic #x reader #larissa weems x reader #phasma x reader #jan stevens x reader #y/n #x y/n #jane murdstone x reader #anna x reader #miranda hilmarson x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #lucifer morningstar sandman x reader #lucifer morningstar sandman #got brienne

[littledollll]

Lucifer, walking towards y/n very fast (too graceful to run): “Angel, darling, my love, my heart- there’s a spider in the room-“

Y/n, confused: “okay.. what do you want me to do?”

Lucifer, now hyperventilating: “KILL IT!? I’m sorry I’m sorry. Kill it, please. Get rid of that thing.”

Y/n, holding back their laughter: “you’re the literal devil.. and you’re scared of a spider?”

Lucifer, about to cry: “JUST KILL IT. YOU CAN BULLY ME LATER.”

This series was inspired by a conversation with my dear friend @v3nusxsky so props to her for inspiring the spider trilogy!

#random littledollll #spider trilogy #lucifer sandman #gwendoline christie #the sandman #sandman lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar the sandman

[bri-sonat]

silly goofy ass meme to make us all start the week with a laugh. enjoy. or not. do as you wish.

#brienne of tarth #captain phasma #miranda hilmarson #lucifer morningstar the sandman #larissa weems #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #jane murdstone #gwen in fabric #babydoll #annalise babydoll #lucy/lexi wizards vs aliens #gwen memes

[crow-raven-crow]

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐆𝐰𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐭

~ Red Edition ~

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 �� |

a little treat while i get through writers block and finals season <3

i was mia for a hot second because college is really picking up right now, but i swear i'm all good ! i've had a few check in on me and it made my day it was so cute. hopefully i'll get a request out by the end of tmr

also i do have photos of our lovely Jan Stevens in red, so expect those at some point

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#crowravencrow #gwendoline christie photo album #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems #brienne of tarth got #game of thrones brienne #brienne the beauty #brienne tarth #brienne of tarth #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer sandman #the sandman lucifer #lucifer morningstar #jan stevens #jane murdstone #flux gourmet #jan stevens flux gourmet #captain phasma #gwen in fabric #writers block is so scary to me for some reason #ive been doing this for three months now #hopefully it fades soon

[cissyenthusiast010155]

You can read this in the morning, but, remember when Brooke and Luci had that fight? Could you write something about that? But, only the make up part?🥰

Hello there @sweeks-blog !! Here’s a little make-up fluff for you ♥️ Hope you Enjoy!

I’m Here, Little one Part 1 ~Lucifer Morningstar xFem Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff, Hurt, crying, implied fighting, little angst, comforting, hugging, snuggling, etc.

Enjoy (;

The bedroom door slammed and you immediately regretted everything that had just occurred.

You ran to your bed and stuffed your face in the pillows, tears streaming down your face. The scent of Luci on the pillows helped you a bit, but it also reminded you of what you had just done.

It was your first fight…

~~~

Later that evening, you heard a light knock on your shared quarters. You had spent the entire day, curled up in tears. You picked up your head lightly at the sound.

“Not right now…” you croaked, assuming it was one of the castle staff or a demon of sorts.

“Little one…? it’s me…” The Lightbringer spoke through the door.

You bit your lip at their words and more tears spilled from your eyes. You had no response.

At This, Lucifer spoke again, “I’m going to come in, Darling…”

They then quietly opened and shut the door. And their heart broke at the sight of you. Your eyes landed on them, and the didn’t look much better. Their eyes were puffy, their hair a mess, and their garments not on properly. You both just stared at a each other for a while.

“I’m sorry”

You both then said in unison. This made the Lightbringer sigh in relief a bit. They came to sit next to you, opening their arms to you. You happily accepted and snuggled into their frame.

“I’m sorry, Luci…” you whispered, repeating yourself through choked sobs.

“No, I’m sorry, little one…” they gently spoke.

Your gaze went up to meet the Lightbringer and you saw nothing in their eyes but love and care. This time, a tear of joy spilled from your eye. You snuggle even deeper into their form.

“I’m here… I’m here…” they softly chanted.

“I love you so much, Luci-baby…” you mumbled into their form.

“I love you too, dearest.”

~~~

Link to Part 2

Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist

#the sandman lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #lucifer #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer sandman #the sandman lucifer x reader #lucifer fluff #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) x reader #lucifer morningstar #Lucifer Morningstar fluff #sandman lucifer #sandman Lucifer fluff #the sandman x reader #gwendoline christie x reader #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie character #gwendolineuniverse #the sandman fandom

[apollosbisexualass]

I love this detail sm!!

#bestie’s wearing the same robe in each series!! #not sure if this was intentional or not but I like to think they packed it when they left Hell #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer tv #lucifer series #the sandman #lucifer the sandman #Lucifer Morningstar the sandman #dream of the endless

[elijahslittleprincess]

🅶🅾🅳...🅻🅾🅾🅺 🅰🆃 🅷🅴🆁. 🆂🅷🅴'🆂 🆂🅾 🅿🅴🆁🅵🅴🅲🆃, 🅷🅴🆁 🆂🅼🅸🅻🅴🅴🅴 😩😩😩

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #Gwendolinelucifer #the sandman #cg! sandman lucifer #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #mommy k!nk #mommy #lucifer morningstar the sandman #sandman lucifer x reader #gwendolyn #shes perfect #perfect women #sandman series #netflix sandman #sandman agere #the sandman series

[4theluvofsapphos]

Devil’s Advocate - PART 1/2

Lucifer Morningstar (Sandman) x Dead!Reader

TW & A/N: R passes from an implied inebriated fall (DDDNE), Drinking, Smoking, Mentions of a high/drug related analogies/metaphors(?),

LATER TAGS TO NOTE: Heavy Sadism/Masochism, Blood + Blood Drinking, Slut-Shaming/Harsh Degrading, Dubious Consent (R is bound by contract, yet still consents + is sober, so I’m not sure if this is dubious consent or not, but I’m not taking any chances afhksdfj), Brief mentions of being apathetic towards death/life

WC: ~1.3K

Considering how you came to be acquainted with The Devil–some would even call you ‘friendly’--you hadn’t expected to be as deep into the murky depths as you were. Not only were you enticed by the embodiment of sin, but the idea made your brow crease and your palms begin to sweat. Your church always chided the children, telling them Satan was no martyr, no king. They said Satan was the ruler of the misfits, the outcasts, the uglies of the world.

In time, you came to understand that no one was an Angel. The closest that Heaven ever got to having an angel was Lucifer Morningstar. And even then, that didn’t last very long, did it?

As you grew into adulthood, becoming a misfit, an outcast, an ugly–it was inevitable. You remember the first time you peeked down the barrel of a bottle, flicked the sparker of a lighter. The teen angst got the best of you, and you never had it in you to care.

The ecstasy was heaven, the sin was salvation.

–

Your drinking buddy, Sal, said you were too cocky when you began dancing on the roof, holding the cheap bottle of Budweiser in one hand, a cigarette in the other. You were two bottles in, and a pack and a half down.

You didn’t care. Why would you? Life was so bland, like the same flavor of the same food. It had always been that way, since the day you realized you wouldn’t amount to much more than an office worker. You had no passion, no drive. Dying wouldn’t be terrible, living wasn’t terrible. But you craved more. And so you chased that rush, that hit of adrenaline when you balanced on a bridge high above the crashing waves, or when you set your hand on fire after covering it in hair gel, diving into the pool next to you to extinguish it.

Or like now, as you danced carelessly above your apartment, leaning over the edge and screaming along to the lyrics of the music, laughing loudly and throwing the finished cigarette over the edge. You watched it fall, the end glowing a deep orange, and suddenly you felt dizzy. The alcohol hit all at once, and instead of disappearing, you watched as the cigarette got closer, and closer, and closer. The realization didn’t hit you until you heard Sal scream after you, and in an instant, the rushing wind filled your head, you watched as the ground rushed closer to you in your periphery. Your eyes never straying from the falling cigarette, which distinguished on the cold pavement, and then…nothing.

—

Heat. The first thing to hit your senses when you began to rouse, was the heat. It was hot enough to make your nostrils burn as you took in slow, confused breaths.

Your throat felt dry…honestly, everything felt dry and aching, like you had just fallen 36 stories and landed head first on the floor you were currently laying on. When you finally decided to start moving and dared to crack open your eyes, you found that there seemed to be no ceiling, no moon, no sun, no stars. You hadn’t the faintest idea whether you were indoors or outside, if it was day or night. The sky was a dusted rose, a perpetual late evening or early morning.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, a gentle wind picked up– hot as well, unfortunately. With a little groan, you managed to get up, before quickly crumbling back to the floor. For whatever reason, the fall had seriously inhibited your ability to balance, or walk- really.

You had no idea where you were going, no idea what to do. When you glanced up from your hands and the smooth marble of the floor, your eyes caught on an opening at the end of the hall. Luckily, it didn’t look to be very far away.

So, with a sigh of personal defeat, you began to crawl. Even that was a struggle, yet you persisted. One hand, one knee, one hand, one knee. One hand-

“Going somewhere, starlight?”

—

END PT 1 HCJSJDJ THANKS FOR READING!!!

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar the sandman #gwendoline christie #lucifer morningstar x y/n #the sandman #dddne #tw death

[gothic-daydreamer]

An Angel Trapped

Chapter 2 -

Summary: An Angel meets the true evil.

Warnings: violence and threats.

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

When I awoke the pain in my head had increased tenfold. My whole body was in the worst agony imaginable, and I wished my Lord would give me the release of death.

The last thing I remembered was blood, the smell of terrible rot and a beastly snarl from the flayed man. No, a man could not survive that. This was something else.

I attempted to clench my fist into the sand again, I had found it soothed me slightly to feel the soft grains under my skin, but I found a much harder, smoother surface instead.

Voices, the same gruff ones from before were conversing in a strange language I was unfamiliar with. I could tell they were behind me from the direction the sound travelled from, and I clenched my teeth to hold back a groan of pain as I strained to open my eyes.

I blinked rapidly, clearing my spotty vision. I was in a dimly lit room with some torches placed across the walls for light, I saw very minimal as I was facing a darkened stone wall. The voices continued, but I mostly ignored them. All I could tell was, from the tone of their voices, it was a tense conversation.

One voice was clearer, and even in a foreign language sounded authoritative. It was deep, but distinctly different to those it was conversing with. The voice sounded angry.

No, not merely angry. It held the fury and power to bring the walls down around us. This voice frightened me.

Slowly, and with great effort, I turned my head to the voices. I saw the flayed man first, he appeared agitated. Another creature stood by his side with the feet of a goat but the upper body of a man, an equine tail swung behind him, like some twisted version of the minotaurs I'd read about. But across from them, that was where the malevolence in the air seemed to emanate from.

A throne of thorns coiled around metal and stone held the light of the room, the polished marble glinted with a malicious intent as if to sit on it was death.

The person seated, however, didn't seem afraid as the two other creatures were. They seemed to fuel it, actually. It was made infinitely clear to me who held the power in the room. Their hair was of short, blonde curls, blue eyes like sapphires glinted with the same effect as the throne upon which they were seated.

My heart rate was rapid with fear, this was an evil place. I could feel it in my very soul. I glanced at the three people in the room, luckily their focus was not on me. If I was lucky I could perhaps get free from this room, if I was unlucky...

I steeled myself against such thoughts, the first step to escape was believing it was possible. I pulled myself together, sending one last look to my captors to ensure their focus still hadn't shifted. Then I slowly began an army crawl towards the doorway.

It was still swelteringly hot, even in this room. Sweat beaded on my forehead and i found myself loathing my normally beloved fur cloak, it was to be my undoing if I couldn't get it off.

My legs were tied too, I soon came to realise. I kept crawling, dragging myself along the smooth surface below me with great effort from my trembling arms. I didn't care if I collapsed, just as long as I was out of this room.

I made it a few feet before i realised there was a halt to the conversation behind me. By the time I noticed it I knew my attempt had failed. But still, I kept going. Until a hand shot out to grip the rope around my ankles, dragging me backwards and eliciting a cry of fear from me.

"little bird thought she could escape. Stupid bird" the voice from the flayed man spoke in the broken version of the common tongue, I looked back over my shoulder at him and saw a wet, blackened appendage from his mouth lick the bloody tissue around the gaping hole. I felt bile rise in my throat at the sight.

The warped minotaur trotted closer, and then I noticed the rusted curved sickle in his hand "we should take half of wing. To punish" I barely made out from his gutteral voice, and began struggling against the flayed man as my trapped wings fought their binds to save themselves from this threat "no- no please"

My voice was no longer strong, no longer unshakable. I was crying, I realised. As if the humiliation of being captured wasn't enough, now they saw my tears. My head bowed to shield myself from their sadistic gazes, I needed to maintain dignity in front of my captors.

The flayed man held me, gripping my shoulders and pressing my front into the floor as the Minotaur clamoured closer. I could smell the rot of the flayed corpse as he got closer, breathing on me with rancid breath. I nearly vomited from the stench.

My struggles grew more desperate as I saw the rusted blade's dulled edge mere inches from my feathered wings. My heart hammered and my eyes watered once more,

"please- anything but my wings- anything!" I had never been so afraid, especially as the echoing laughter of the evil creatures above me found my terror amusing. I squeezed shut my eyes and prayed for salvation.

"that's enough!" A booming, powerful voice broke their laughter and ended their amusement. The creatures froze on the spot and swivelled their heads to the being upon the throne, instantly bowing their heads "yes Master"

I heard boots, or perhaps they were heels, striking the floor as someone sauntered slowly towards me. Each step they took radiated a power I had only ever encountered in my Lord. Whoever this being was, they rivalled God himself.

"if you fools are done toying with my newest pet, you may leave us" despite being worded as a suggestion, it was painfully clear it was more of a direct order. The creature that inspired fear in the flayed man and the Minotaur stood over me, and as I opened my eyes I saw it was heeled boots they wore.

My gaze climbed long legs covered at knee length by a silver silken robe, up to broad shoulders and finally a beautiful, ethereal face. I'd never seen a face like it, in the Silver City or any other realm. There was a soft, pure beauty, but also a dark primal evil that sent a shiver of the most direct fear I'd ever felt. The being's blue eyes masked dark urges, and even more sinful thoughts.

"yes Master" the creatures muttered in unison, heads down. The flayed man gave me the most hateful look I'd ever received, like he wanted to strip the flesh from me so I suffered his same fate "and, if you desire, Mazikeen will provide a reward for this... Gift" the sapphire eyes never broke from me, and the flayed man nodded. He left the room at his Master's orders without another word.

Said Master was still watching me, an unreadable expression on their face. I met their eyes again, and if I wasn't tied on the ground I would have shrunk away from the being above me. Their hand raised and I found myself bracing for an attack or unwanted touch, but instead their fingers clicked with a resounding snap and I felt the ropes binding me loosen so I was freed.

I pushed myself onto my knees, my wings ruffling to ease the ache of being bound uncomfortably together "stand up"

The being possessed a quiet voice, but their dangerous aura more than made up for the lack of volume. Infact, the quietness added to the fear this person induced in me. My legs trembled a little, whether it was fear or exhaustion I couldn't tell, but I found myself on my feet. The flayed man's Master was tall, imposingly so. They towered over me and cast a shadow of malevolence, even if they had yet to harm me directly.

Suddenly they were close, but they were not bent. Instead I was gasping on their level as their clawed hand held my throat in an iron grip, my wings beat against them but this powerful being didn't seem to notice. Their blue eyes seemed to darken with my fear.

"I normally kill trespassers on my doorstep" their deep, power-filled voice sent shivers through me. There was darkness, yet a softness too. Like the calm embrace of death "an Angel would be a fool to set foot in my domain"

This creature that tightened their grip was... Captivating, in a deadly sense. Their eyes were alert constantly, like a predator waiting for its prey to slip up and fall into the trap waiting for them "so tell me... Little angel, what gave you the nerve-" the grip tightened and claws were beginning to pierce my soft, divine-born skin "to travel to Hell?"

#gwendoline christie #the sandman #the sandman netflix #lucifer morningstar x fem!reader #lucifer morningstar the sandman #gwendoline Christie lucifer #gxg

[remusslovno]

my Lucifer redraw actually, not much time passed between these arts, I just tried to make a different style and more details

#the sandman netflix #the sandman #the sandman lucifer #fanart #digital art #morningstar #neil gaiman #sandman #lucifer morningstar the sandman #the sandman comics #illustrator on tumblr #illustration on tumblr #digital painting #redrawing #lucif sandman #redraw

[yourmomwhitediamond]

Yes I posted this on insta almost a month ago, but I'm terrible at remembering to post my art on other platforms. Soooooo...Here's my Lucifer doodle I will never finish ಥ⁠╭⁠╮⁠ಥ

I'm struggling with art block and writers block (: How fun

NONE OF MY BOOKS HAVE BEEN UPDATED IN MONTHS. I HAVE SO MANY DRAFTS THAT I'VE SCRAPPED TOO.

#gwendoline christie lucifer #gwendoline christie art #lucifer the sandman #the sandman #digital art #doodle #unfinished art #lucifer morningstar the sandman #art block #writers block

[littledollll]

I have a request!

Lucifer sitting on the bed while their partner (reader) shows them how they look in different lingerie and asking which one they like better

Take your time and take care 🫶

Fashion show

Lucifer Morningstar x reader

A/n: this was so FUN to write man. I’ve had daydreams about this before actually. I love it here. I hope you enjoy<3

Warnings: touching, lingerie, aludes to sex, nipple play, praise.

____________________________________

“Look who’s finally back..” Lucifer says with a smile as they spot you come in through the heavy throneroom doors. You came in with a returning smile and a few bags in your hands, which were quickly taken off you and dropped off in your shared room by one of the maids.

“Happy to see me?” “Overjoyed. Every second here without you is torture.”

“Well you can’t blame hell for being hell!” You mused as you approached the devil.

“I can, and I shall. I’m always happy to be accompanied by you, my love.”

“Will you let me put on a little show for you?” You smiled as you moved into your devil’s lap. “A show?” They asked in an amused tone, tilting their head as one of their hands caressed your cheek.

“Mhm!” You nodded. Nuzzling against it, you placed a kiss on their palm. “A show. So you can see all the lovely clothes I brought back from the living.”

“Ah, a fashion show, just for me? I do believe I would enjoy that.” They nodded as you moved off their lap, keeping a hand on theirs as you quickly ushered them to your private quarters. They followed along without issue.

Once you arrived, Lucifer was a bit forcefully pushed to sit on the bed, your excitement getting the better of you. “That’s no way to treat your lord, angel.” Lucifer said with a quirked brow, tilting their head curiously your way.

You loved it so much when they did that adorable headtilt.

“It’s no way to treat my lover! I apologize sincerely. If my fashion show doesn’t make it up to you, I’ll let you choose a reward as compensation.” You played along, placing a hurried kiss to their cheek before running along into your unnecessarily large closet to get changed, the bags already being placed inside.

“Pick a color!” You yelled from the closet. Lucifer chuckled. “Any color?”

“Well I don’t have every color. But I might have the one you pick! Or something similar..”

“Oh alright.” They entertained.

“I’ll say... red.” Of course they would. Who is Lucifer without their signature red, black and white colors?

“Perfect choice, my love. As always.” You were more than prepared for this.

You slipped on the most conservative one you had first. ‘Slipped’ is the wrong word for it, considering these things were half impossible to put on. But you managed.

A simple deep red, lacy, one piece with quite the lot of holes, but not in the necessary places.

You looked at yourself in the mirror once, and then thrice to make sure everything was as it should, before you made a rather dramatic strut out of the closet doors.

Lucifer’s smile reached their eyes at your behavior. The piece suited you beautifully but it was all about how you wore it. “Oh so this is how it’s going to be?”

“I told you, red was a very wise color.” You nodded and they motioned you to come closer.

As you did, Lucifer’s hands found your waist, where the lingerie has the cut outs to show your stunning skin. “Very nice… I’m already loving every second of this.” The touch made a shiver go up your spine, and you looked at their face, studying the fit on your body.

They turned you in their arms, getting a full view of what you had on. The back was pretty and simple aswell. Not much revealed but still appreciated by them. “Delightful. You might be pardoned for pushing me onto the bed because of this.”

“Oh no don’t forgive me yet, I have a few more!” Lucifer hummed. “How many is a few?”

“Mm.. it’s a surprise!” You smiled, turning to face them once more. “A surprise… Alright I’ll bite. Go on and get changed.”

And so you went. You very purposely picked out lingerie in their three colors, of course. So you had two more left to show. And you’d leave the white for last.

Next up was a cute black one. A two piece. It had a big, Star-shaped cut out in the center of the chest, your nipples just peaking from the corners of it. It was slightly uncomfortable, you’d admit. The way the fabric rubbed against you was providing a special type of feeling.

The bottoms were a little more risky, having a star pattern all over that showcased almost all of your skin.

“Turn for me, angel.” You did as asked and Lucifer’s hands moved down your hips and ass, which was on full display, giving a gentle squeeze. “Now this.. is a beautiful view. What made you choose the stars, sweetheart?”

“Isn’t it just adorable! And well.. you are the Morningstar. I thought it fit quite nicely.”

Lucifer nodded along as you spoke. “Yes, yes it does. Very lovely choice this one. I hope to be seeing it again very soon.”

You giggled, pulling yourself away from their arms. “Alright, one more left. Then you’ll get to touch and hold me all you want.”

“I like that idea. Go ahead, angel.”

The white one went on easier, perhaps because there was significantly less fabric to mess with. This one was quite the piece. The most revealing you had, definitely.

Lucifer’s jaw was practically on the floor when you stepped out. It was a tree piece, the bra could barely be considered a bra, it was more like a few thin straps barely holding together. For only decoration since your nipples were revealed by small heart shaped cut outs. The lower half was once again barely held up by some tiny string on each side that went over your hips, your breasts on full display, and a bigger heart shaped cut out, was exposing your mound.

You didn’t bother to wait for them to call you closer, instead you freely moved towards them, giving a little twirl to show all of it. The backside was basically naked if not for a few straps that held the garment together. And what caught their eye for a moment was the pearly and white garter you had wrapped around your thigh.

“You saved the best for last.” Lucifer said after regaining their composure. Their eyes practically eating you up as you stood before them. You hummed. “Do you really think so?” Lucifer nodded quickly. Their hands gripping on your skin, which was far from gentle but very much welcome. “Yes, definitely.”

“The white looks beautiful on your skin… it’s decorating your body just so nicely. Not hiding a thing from me but giving me more to see, yes. This is certainly my favorite.” And how they could’ve continued rambling on about its perfection for years to come.

“What a cute little thing… shall I slide it off with my teeth?” Lucifer murmured as they snapped the garter around your thighs, giving you a small sting. “Later, maybe…”

“No. Now. Right now.” Their voice showed urgency as they pulled you to straddle just one of their thighs. The feeling of your bare cunt against them could send them straight back to heaven.

Lucifer’s lips were quick to meet your chest. Warm mouth wrapping around your soft nipples that were just so readily available to them. They delighted in the way you gasped in pleasure, tangling your hands into their hair and holding them against your chest.

“Oh I-“ you released a shaky breath, closing your eyes. “I believe I’ve been convinced…”

#lucifer sandman #the sandman #lucifer morningstar the sandman #sandman lucifer smut #gwendoline christie #sandman Lucifer #sandman lucifer x reader #the sandman lucifer smut #sandman smut #lucifer sandman smut

[bri-sonat]

NSFW Questions About Gwen's Big Five - Part One

Questions are taken from this. The original poster deactivated their account, so it's the reblog that is linked. All the questions are modified and some are removed (either because the question had already been answered or because it referred to hetero relations.)

NSFW Questions About Gwen's Big Five Masterlist

Happy Friday! Starting off the weekend in the best way possible with some smexy questions for the Big Five we all know and love. A beautiful joint effort between @daydream-cement and I. With the occasional assistance from dear @na-shoba. The last time me and Kaley did one of these, we went back and forth, however, this time, she has stubbornly told me to post all the parts since she posts the Bri and Mir fics. So I will be your NSFW question dealer this time. Enjoy!

When did they lose their virginity?

Brienne: Late twenties if she ends up finding a partner. Or never.

Larissa: 17

Lucifer: Virginity is a construct.

Phasma: 18. That’s the only time she remembers anyways. When she turned 18, she fucked every one of her fellow female troopers that saw her face or saw her remotely undressed, if they didn’t take the bait and refused sex, threatening them to silence always worked. It was a way to “keep them quiet,” and “ensure their silence.” Also, if they raked their eyes over her body in any way, shape, or form. All consensual, of course.

Miranda: 20

Do they prefer rough sex or soft sex?

Brienne: Nine times out of ten she prefers soft sex. She will rarely like rough sex, if ever, and will only do it once or twice for her partner on special occasions if they really like it. She undermines her own strength many times and ends up hurting them involuntarily. So she likes it soft when giving and receiving.

Larissa: Depends. Really likes rougher sex if she is bottoming.

Lucifer: Yes. 

Phasma: Rough when giving (which is always). And whichever when receiving (which is never, unless she has a partner, then it’s once a year).

Miranda: Soft when giving. Depends when receiving.

Do they have any kinks/fetishes?

Brienne: Praise kink with light degradation.

Larissa: Loves relinquishing control. Praise kink with light degradation.

Lucifer: The Wing Thing™ 

Phasma: Degradation to the max! Heavy degradation, light praise, biting, edging, voyeurist & exhibitionist (in her quarters with her watching, or her having someone watch her, always willing partners. Power play, and such). BDSM (blindfolds, face slapping, flogging/whipping, gagging, handcuffs, physical restraints), anything that would give her extreme power and domination (discipline, forced orgasm, orgasm control, orgasm denial, having a sex slave (if she’s not in a relationship)), spit kink, sadism (adding this again to accentuate). Most of these are dialed down/removed if she has a romantic partner.

Miranda: Loves overstimulation and loads of foreplay. Praise kink. 

Weirdest place they’ve had sex?

Brienne: Carriage in olden times. Car in modern times. However, because of her height, it gets uncomfortable quickly. And it only happened once because of an extreme sex emergency.

Larissa: School library in college. She and a friend were working on a school project and before she knew it, they were making out and they did ‘hand stuff’ in the educational theory section.

Lucifer: Hell’s gardens

Phasma: Control room.

Miranda: Supply closet at work after hours. A visiting detective seduced her and introduced her to the joys of lesbianism. She never slept with a man again after that.

Favorite sex position?

Brienne: Probably missionary. She really wants to see the face of the person she is pleasuring. (She’s lame like that /aff). Plus, missionary with the strap sometimes means bouncing boobies which we know Brienne loves.

Larissa: Bent over her desk or tied to her bed. For the most part, as long as she is being dominated, Larissa loves it.

Lucifer: Receiving/giving oral on their throne. They live the symbolism and power.

Phasma: Bending someone over something and pounding them from behind. Her helmet is off with the order ‘Don’t look behind you.’ Power play.

Miranda: Her partner between her legs with their back against her chest while she plays with their pussy

Do they like to be dominant or submissive?

Brienne: Sub.

Larissa: Sub.

Lucifer: Sub.

Phasma: Dom.

Miranda: Sub. (Will switch for her partner)

Sex on the bed, couch, or the floor?

Brienne: Bed. Sometimes the couch for over-the-clothes stuff, but no sex.

Larissa: Bed.

Lucifer: Bed.

Phasma: Doesn’t care.

Miranda: Couch. She is a fan of over-the-clothes grinding and groping and the couch is such a perfect place for that.

Have they ever had sex in a public place?

Brienne: It’s happened in the case of what she calls “sexual emergencies where it could not be postponed or held off.”

Larissa: Yes, when she was younger.

Lucifer: Yes, from time to time.

Phasma: Obviously. She is very careful about finding somewhere she is sure is rarely visited/can be locked/will be free. She has a reputation to uphold, after all.

Miranda: Yes, regardless of knowing about the ‘indecent exposure’ charges she could get.

Would they ever have sex in a public place?

Brienne: If she could avoid it, she would. She feels the most comfortable behind closed doors in a private place (her home, her partner’s home, or a hotel room). If public sex is to be accepted by her, it has to be somewhere where she can ensure privacy, like a door with a lock or a place that no one can look into.

Larissa: It’s not a preference as she ages.

Lucifer: If their partner would like, then of course.

Phasma: Of course.

Miranda: Duh. Yes.

Have they ever been caught masturbating?

Brienne: No. She learns about masturbating pretty late in her life (if ever) and only does it when she is sure no one is awake. She also trusts people to knock, and she’s good at staying quiet.

Larissa: Once during her time at Nevermore by her roommate. That night ended happily for both of them.

Lucifer: Not unless they want to be caught.

Phasma: No.

Miranda: No, but she wouldn’t be opposed to getting caught by her partner if it would lead to them joining her in bed.

#brienne of tarth #captain phasma #miranda hilmarson #larissa weems #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #gwendoline christie #gwen christie

[crow-raven-crow]

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐆𝐰𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 |𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 |

the photos i have of her judging that event are so good

i need to get more photos of her characters because they’re so beautifully cinematic. i dont have many photos of our dear morningstar and it made me sad lol

x,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#crowravencrow #gwendoline christie photo album #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems #brienne of tarth got #game of thrones brienne #brienne the beauty #brienne tarth #brienne of tarth #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer sandman #the sandman lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hoping the quality doesnt eat shit

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hi how are you, gorgeous?

Here to request if you will, Gwens top 5 reacting to R getting a necklace with their initial on it?

Heyyyy @littledollll !! A lot better hearing from you 😊🫰🏻 Hope you are well! And thanks for the ask 🥰 I would love to write this! Hope you Enjoy ♥️

Initialized Necklace Blurb ~Gwen’s Characters xGN Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff, kissing, crying, etc.

Enjoy (:

Brienne of Tarth

“My Lady, I cannot possibly accept this…” Brienne nervously explains.

Her blush evident at the small yet beautiful pendant necklace you had given her.

“No, Ser Brienne, I insist.”

Brienne looked down to the gold heart with ‘B + Y/Initial’ inscribed on it. She looked down and met your gaze, tears of joy welling up in her eyes.

“I have never been given something so remarkable…” she spoke, her voice faltering.

Now it was your turn to blush. Brienne placed the pendant on her heart.

“I shall cherish it with all my heart, my Lady…” she whispered, a tear of love escaping her eye.

Ser Brienne then leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek. Your cheeks were ablaze with fusia. The woman then left your tent as to not arouse any suspicion.

“I will love you Ser Brienne, Always and Forever…” you mutter, tears of joy escaping your own eyes, which you we’re quick to wipe away as to not arouse any suspicion.

~~~

Larissa Weems

You had planned on giving it to her after dinner. It was your one year anniversary of you two being together, and you had the whole evening planned out.

But as you entered the blonde’s office at Nevermore, you tripped and out fell your surprise. Luckily, Larissa was nimble and quick to help you up, but she immediately noticed the blue jewelry box. Your eyes widened as Larissa went to pick up the box, staring quizzically back at you.

“And what do we have here…?” She playfully purred.

You blushed.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for after dinner…” you muttered.

The blonde eyed you with her signature mischievous, glistening look that she always gave you when you’d been caught doing something. But as she went to open the box, her her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

Inside was a silver necklace with an infinity symbol and two silver circles, each engraved with your and Larissa’s initials…

“Do you… Do you like it…?” You hesitantly asked.

Finally, Larissa’s gaze met yours again. Her eyes shone with radiance and love, and a small water line was threatening to spill from her eyes.

“I… I love it…” she whispered, looking back at the necklace and then back to you.

“Will you help me put it on?”

Your face lit up at her positive reaction and you nodded lovingly. You took the jewelry piece and hung it around her cream, poised neck, clipping it in the back with ease. You stood back to admire your ease, but Larissa started to come forward.

“What are you—”

Your words were cut off by Larissa’s soft lips connecting with yours. A small sigh left your lips, which Larissa happily swallowed. After a minute, you both pulled away slightly. Larissa’s hand was fidgeting with the necklace.

“Always and Forever…?” She whispered, staring you down intently and lovingly.

“Always and Forever.” You whispered back, ghosting your lips against hers once more.

~~~

Miranda Hilmarson

Her eyes immediately started welling up with tears of joy as you presented two necklaces, one with Miranda’s initials and one with yours.

“Now we’ll always be with each other.” You cooed with a loving smile.

“I love them…” Miranda chocked out, tears now running down her face.

“Oh Babe, I didn’t mean to make you cry…” you cooe.

Suddenly the tall blonde pulls you into her tight embrace. She hugs you tightly with love. You instantly relax in her arms, until she’s squeezing you to death with (literally and figuratively).

“Babe… can’t breathe…” you gasp.

A flood of concern washes over the blondes face and she immediately loosens her hold on you.

“Sorry…” the blonde whispers, blushing softly.

“All good, babe…” you cooe.

“Luv you.” Miranda murmered into the crook of your neck.

“Love you too, Babe…” you cooe.

“Always and Forever…?” She vulnerably mumbles.

“Always and Forever, babe.” You reassured the tall, short haired blonde.

~~~

Lucifer Morningstar

You approached the Lightbringer as they stood tall on their balcony, gazing over their domain.

“Master…?” You whimpered, not wanting to interrupt or anger them.

“What is it, Little one?” They hum, still viewing the vast land of hell.

“I… I made something for you…”

At this, the Lightbringer turned their head to your small frame.

“Oh? And what might it be…?” They ask.

You hold your hand out and open your fist to reveal a piece of metal, a homemade, refined pendant with their initials inscribed on it on a simple chain.

“I made this for you… As a reminder of who you are, that you aren’t what God has deemed you to be…”

“Thank you, little one.” They say, taking the piece.

You nodded and left the throne room. Only when you had gone did Lucifer alike themselves to smile and blush at the thoughtful gift you had given to them.

And since then, whenever Lucifer went out, they always wore your necklace. It would always bring a smile to your face when you caught a glimpse of it under their garments at a meeting or in the throne room.

Only later on did the Lightbringer realize that their was a back inscription: Always and Forever.

~~~

Captain Phasma

You knew it was a bit cheesy. But you couldn’t help yourself. And when Phasma saw it, she stared at you speechlessly.

“A key?”

“It’s not just a key…” you explained, “It’s symbolic, you see it has my initials on it, and it’s supposed to mean that you are the key to my heart…”

“God, that’s so cheesy…” Phasma chuckled.

You bit your lip nervously.

You knew she wouldn’t like it…

But as you went to take the necklace back, Phasma swiftly moved her hand aside.

“I like it.” She decisively stated.

You blushed.

“Good.” You chirped.

The next week, Phasma came up to you with a small box. You looked at her curiously and opened the box. It was a lock with her initials on it, connected to a chain.

“Just a reminder that you belong to me and that I alone have the key to your heart, body, and mind…” she husked und your ear.

Now you really blushed. You nodded.

From there on the two of you always wore the necklaces underneath your uniforms. It was your promise to each other. Always and Forever.

~~~

Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist

Miranda Hilmarson Masterlist

Captain Phasma Masterlist

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Brienne of Tarth Masterlist

#gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie character #gwendoline christie x reader #brienne of tarth #larissa weems #miranda hilmarson #lucifer morningstar #captain phasma #star wars phasma #ser brienne #lady brienne #principal weems #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #lucifer morningstar the sandman #wednesday netflix #wednesday netflix fanfiction #wednesday addams netflix #wednesday weems #wednesday addams #game of thrones #game of thrones fandom #game of thrones fanfiction #top of the lake china girl #top of the lake #star wars sequel fic #phasma star wars #star wars