it took, perhaps, more effort than it should have to hold the pout that she’d worn at first, but the payoff for her work made it worth it. oh, he was quite full of himself, wasn’t he? ( not that he didn’t have good reason. he was her, after all — in a way ) she could see it so clearly in the way he leaned back — how he watched her with that pesky little glint of victory in his eyes and expression more smug than it should have been.
he thought he’d won. how cute.
with that thought in mind his little congratulatory pat on the back came as no surprise. if anything it only served to make her inevitable win all the more fun. his initial confusion was utterly delicious, and that he really thought she would relinquish the upper hand now that she finally had it made his realization that she was the one calling the shots now even more thrilling.
time for the king to serve the QUEEN.
“ well when you have an ass like mine… ” she barely managed to squeeze in that last bit of false modesty before he kissed her again, and gave in without protest — happy with her win as is. she could hear the tiny, almost imperceptible noises his belt made as fumbled with it, a small grin at her lips growing ever so slightly as the simple action took longer and longer — could feel the light drag of his fingernails on the side of her breast as fickle hands explored her body again almost mindlessly — could even see the brief look of relief on his face as those same hands finally unzipped his trousers. getting a bit tight, were they?
she could hardly blame him. while his hands were busy multitasking between undressing and exploring, hers were doing a bit of exploring of their own. contented at the moment with her position of power she did not seek out the thrills touching the scars brought. instead her hands dragged down the lower half of his back, thorough in their investigation of the firm muscles on the journey downwards until finally, finally, they reached his ass.
mark that as another thing they had in common.
“ oh? ” she was about to press
for more information when he froze and pulled back, shifting the power dynamic
again as he turned the full force of his, hers, THEIR gaze on her. tired
of serving his queen already, was he? or could he just not help the urge to
test the boundaries of their effect on each other — on themselves?
truth be told it was captivating, and paired with the
familiar roll of the shoulders ( some habits just didn’t — couldn’t — fade with time )
he was quite the vision. why, if they
still had their wings…
they’d be breathtaking.
that was all it was, though. his eyes drew her in and the sheer gorgeousness of him, of them — dark and powerful and confident — kept her there, but as for pulling out her deepest, darkest desires? he’d have to work a lot harder than that for them.
of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t mess with him in the meanwhile. “ i guess… ” what to say? what to say? “ what i really want is…some zany wings and a nice night in TARZANA. ”
it felt strangely inappropriate,
bringing up their faux dopplegänger now. even if it did manage to dampen the
mood, the laughs she was going to get from this made it more than worth it.
they didn’t call her the devil for nothing.
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builtfcrsin reblogged this from lveifer-blog 
lveifer-blog reblogged this from builtfcrsin PORTRAYAL. Like it says in the description, this is a blog for the character Lucifer Morningstar from FOX’s LUCIFER with a feminine twist. This blog will be primarily based in the series with little to no influence from the source material the show was based off of. Sorry, but I’m a broke college student who’s too lazy/busy to try and find free versions of it online. I also find that I often prefer to incorporate my own headcanons and interpretation of the lore that exists anyway, so do not expect her to perfectly align with any one canon, especially the comics.
Though Lucifer loathes the human need to label everything and because, as a celestial being, her outward appearance is a manifestetion of sense-of-self and thought, if pressed, she would identify as trans given the widespread misconception of masculinity associated with her due to the word of God and a belief that He intended she be His second son and not His first daughter. As such, I plan to incorporate this idea in situations where Lucifer is not truly the devil, and as a human, Lucifer is a trans woman. Her faceclaim in these verses ( which I plan to utilize more often when this blog is more active ) will be Michelle Hendley. Though I do plan to continue using Mallory Janson to portray Lucifer as a celestial being, I am open to critique and discussion as I understand there are many issues with using a cis faceclaim to portray a trans character, however grey the term is when Lucifer is, indeed, the devil. My ideas for execution of this interpretation are by no means perfect, and there is some confusion for me given how I am approaching this change of portrayal. Please, bear with me and feel free to educate me on how I can improve what I am doing to help better the trans community, especially in the Tumblr RPC.
Something else that I feel I should note in here: I DO NOT CONSIDER AMENADIEL TO BE THE OLDEST. I do draw heavy inspiration for my portrayal of Luci from biblical lore, and thus in terms of creation Michael would be the oldest, Lucifer the second oldest, and so on and so forth. I do, however, see Amenadiel as the oldest of the angels, where Michael would be the oldest of the archangels, thus giving him ( in my view ) some pull as the oldest of a particular grouping.
ACTIVITY. My activity on this blog will be low and sporadic, mainly. Right now I'm juggling college and color/winter guard, so it'll be tricky to be on as much as I'd like to. I’ll do my best to build a queue that’ll run semi-frequently, but that’s very low priority for me at the moment. If you see me active and I owe you a reply, though, don’t hesitate to give me a little nudge. Sometimes my procrastinating ass needs one.
FORMATTING. With each new blog I make I adopt a new kind of formatting style. The one I use right now is one that I’m very happy with and probably will not be changing anytime soon. Please don’t feel obligated to match this. I’m not super picky about the aesthetics of my blog, and the only change I’ll make ( if ever ) is from normal text to small text. I personally DO NOT use the super small text but if that’s what you like to use it’s fine. I’ve got very little trouble reading it and it doesn’t inconvenience me. I will mirror-format ONLY in some cases and ONLY at the writer’s request.
STATUS. As of right now this blog is NOT mutuals only. ALL starter calls posted are open to ALL of my followers, regardless of mutual status. As a warning: if we are NOT mutuals and you like a starter call, I expect you to contact me via IM or ask with ideas on how our characters could interact. It doesn’t have to be anything major. It just makes the process of writing MUCH easier and makes me more likely to follow you in the long run.
SHIPPING. Lucifer is, as a general rule, a rather shameless flirt and very liberal in her sexual escapades. Your character is free to reciprocate/react however they would like, but try to keep in mind that part of the character mythos is that she is pretty much irresistible to anyone and everyone who would normally be attracted to her. If we can find a reason for your character to have some level of immunity to this in crossover situations that’s fine, but on the whole that won’t be something that should happen very often.
Please also note that romantic ships on this blog will not be frequent and will require quite a bit of development if they ever are to happen. I’m a ship whore, but chemistry is very important.
MEMES. I LOVE MEMES. If you want to send in the thing, please do. I will most definitely appreciate it, even if I take three billion years to respond. Memes are ALSO a great way to start RPs with no prior plotting or even prior interaction, so I do really encourage you to send them in! Meme me up, Scotty!
EXCLUSIVITY. As of right now, I am NOT muse exclusive with any blogs and have NO intentions of doing so in the near future. I will, however, consider practicing ship exclusivity in certain cases.
CREDITS. All icons were screencapped and edited by me. Please do not steal them. Current theme is courtesy of @nonaziharlot. History heavily inspired and modeled after @gcdgiven's original bio with permission. Please do not copy.
FINAL NOTES. Congratulations! You’ve finished this brick! I don’t do passwords or the like because they’re awkward to me, but I really appreciate you taking the time to read this. As I’ve said before, I’m always open to interaction and plotting so feel free to hit me up whenever! If we are mutuals you are also always free to ask for me Skype! Have a lovely day!
name: Lucifer Morningstar.
nicknames: Luci. Lu. Lulu. Luc. Lucy Ricardo.
aliases: The Devil. Satan. Prince(ss) of Darkness. King Queen of Hell. Abbadon. Belial. Old Scratch. Samael. The Light Bringer.
gender: Female.
date of birth: The Beginning™.
place of birth: The Center™.
age: Ageless.
orientation: Pansexual. Demiromantic.
education: —.
religion: Christianity. Pleasure.
height: 5'9".
weight: 132 lbs.
species: Archangel.
hair color: Brown.
eye color: Green.
scars: Twin ovals on her back from when she cut off her wings.
tattoos: —.
dominant hand: Right.
faceclaim: Mallory Jansen.
father: God.
mother: Mum.
brother(s): Michael. Gabriel. Raphael. Uriel. Amenadiel. etc.
sister(s): Azrael.
HONEST | TRUSTWORTHY | THOUGHTFUL | caring | BRAVE | patient | selfless | AMBITIOUS | tolerant | LUCKY | INTELLIGENT | CONFIDENT | FOCUSED | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | CLEVER | CHARMING | cheerful | optimistic | DECISIVE | ADAPTIVE | calm
MOODY | SHORT-TEMPERED | EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE | whiny | controlling | CONCEITED | possessive | paranoid | lies | IMPATIENT | cowardly | BITTER | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | JUDGEMENTAL | forgetful | IMPULSIVE | SPITEFUL | STUBBORN | sadistic | petty | unlucky
persuasion: The ability draw out people’s forbidden desires. The more simple the human, the easier it is. The more complex, the more challenging and interesting. Chloe Decker is immune to this for reasons beyond even Lucifer’s understanding.
super strength: Small, but full of fite™. Able to punch through walls, throw fully grown men across the room without a push, and hold her own against an angel ( presumably ) at full strength. Extended endurance ( /winks ) and super speed can also be assumed.
shapeshifting: All angels come readily equipped with the ability to create ( and also see through ) glamours at will. Generally this is used to hide their wings while on Earth or ( in ye olde days ) to fuck with the humans when visiting them for a laugh ( looking at you, Gabriel ), but Lucifer frequently uses this ability to give humans a glimpse of her hellish form and what awaits in the deepest pits of hell.
immortality: Unable to die by normal, mortal means. Exceptions to the rule are demon blades, other angels, and Chloe Decker’s presence. She makes her vulnerable.
flight: With wings, she can fly ( and so much MORE ). Without them, she is grounded.
Sometimes — not often, but sometimes —
there are those who prefer to deal in favors of knowledge than favors of
pleasure or gain. Lucifer rarely indulged in them ( even just a fraction of an inkling of pure, unfiltered knowledge of the universe is enough to turn the average human brain into mush, and wasn’t that just such a WASTE? ), but sometimes...sometimes she got bored. Sometimes, when faced with the oh-so-common and oh-so-boring question — how did it all begin? — she’d smile coyly and, instead of the standard, polite refusal, lean in close and whisper conspiratorially...
You humans already got that bit right.
THE BIG BANG. An apt ( if slightly disturbing ) name for the actions of her parents in creating the universe. To think, all it had taken was one truly stellar orgasm between a couple of celestial beings to spark the whole of Creation. Generally, the story stopped there: complete and irritatingly unfinished at the same time. She’d learned her lesson in telling the rest on a cold night in Bethany — a final plea to a dead man walking.
When she did tell it, it went a bit like this...
ONCE, there was a father who wasn’t a Father yet, and a mother who wasn’t a Mother yet, and they fell in love. From their love came Creation, and following Creation came children — a whole Host of children, all of whom were brilliant and passionate and...AND.
While Mother and Father consummated their love, further expanding the universe, the Host amused themselves, forming bonds and cultivating talents. The core bond, consisting of the first five to be borne, later came to be known as the archangels — each exalted for their individual talents. Michael, the sword, strongest and bravest of the Host; Samael, the light, heart and soul of the Host; Raphael, the cross, healer of all ills; Gabriel, the voice, brilliant composer and beautiful singer; and Uriel, the brain, lover, creator, and solver of patterns simple and complex.
For a time, everyone was happy. When Father said let there be light and lit up the gaseous expanse of the universe, one of the Host, Samael, stared on and, with all the wonder and insistence and innocence of a small child, tugged on Father’s metaphorical sleeve and asked — no, begged — for more. Because she was His light, He indulged in her request. With a wave of his hand, the light-bearing mist collided, burning and brightening and forming brilliant new STARS.
take care of them, little one. Father said, gently pushing her to the newly formed cluster. Like Mother and Father had done before her Samael gathered the stars, grace pulsing with love as she carried them out among the cosmos, placing them into constellations and galaxies in representations of her brothers back home. She watched with joy as they grew into their power, growing and consuming and expanding out further into the universe her parents had created, each partitioning their own portion of the remaining expanse and pulling it towards them, never dying while she was around to pull them back from the brink.
In their gratitude, they’d given her the name Morningstar, for night never came when she was there. It was a name she’d forever cherish.
Eventually, (
seven days ) millions or billions of years from when she had been charged with her task, Samael was called back home. Much had changed in the time she’d been living among the stars. Her family had grown, including one more sister in a sea of new brothers and...humans.
They were curious little creatures. Young, certainly, in comparison to the angels and certainly the archangels. Dirty. If Samael looked closely she could see bits of the clay Father had modeled them from peeking out. Most of all, they were favored.
Samael watched with her sister and brothers as Father gave them gifts He’d never dared to give to the Host: a home orbiting the first star she’d ever placed — a beautiful young thing named Sol; the garden, home to a tree bearing fruit containing pieces from before Creation; and a destiny headed towards greatness, meant to somehow make what was already perfection better. For the first time in the whole of her existence, Samael felt envy.
When Father asked demanded humans receive the protection of the Host as well, Samael grit her teeth and obeyed as her siblings did. Even if they couldn’t make things better, even if she didn’t particularly like or even know them...they were family.
The tale wouldn’t end there, merely pause. The devil didn’t need to stretch her legs, but her audience did. So, what do you say, beardy? Are you ready for more? His placid smile set her on edge, but she smirked through it. If she was going to save him she’d need to continue.
Right. Carrying on.
So Samael obeyed, bitterness held at bay by the fond whispers of the stars ( O’! Bright and Glorious Morningstar! ) and the firmly held belief that she was still His favorite, no matter how much He doted on the youngest siblings. Days became weeks became months became years as she watched over Father’s pet project like the rest of the Host, confusion ( and perhaps — in much, much later hindsight — a certain fondness ) growing as she watched the two stumble along the garden.
Are we not just as worthy, if not more, of these gifts Father has given them? she’d asked her siblings, some nodding in more awe than agreement at their older and beloved sister while others ( MOST ) grit their teeth as she had.
It is not our place to question Father. Only to obey. Why? He is the Creator. He is not the only one. We have created just as much as He has. Why should we devote our existence to His creations and not ours as well? Do not press. Do not think. Simply do.
Despite ( or perhaps, in spite of ) her siblings’ insistence, Samael thought and thought. Angels were divine, just as Mother and Father were, so their creations were just as pure. Humans, though, were too far removed from divinity to hope to create anything but adequate in comparison. They couldn’t possibly make Father’s creations better. So, Samael went to confront her father — remaining family witness to the slaughter.
The fight lasted...it lasted a while. Time seemed to blur amid the shouting match that followed, but she was sure it was years, decades even, before it ended, and oh...oh, how it had ended. THE STARS HAVE TAUGHT YOU TO BURN TOO HOT, LITTLE ONE. Samael, burning with the shame of her Father’s scolding, lunged forward, hands clenched and tensed for...for...something.
And Michael — strongest, bravest, and obedient eldest brother that he was — stepped between them, sword at hand. It didn’t burn at first, not until it reached Samael’s star-touched grace. Where sword met, soul blackened, tearing and cauterizing and chasing away the brightness that had once defined her very existence. Without that...she fell.
Despite reaching hands, despite begging eyes, not one brother or sister stepped forward to save her. Down, down the Bringer of Light went, landing in smoke and fire in a crater in Eden, fallen to one of the lowest planes of existence. In her grief, homesickness, and perhaps still in rebellion she burrowed herself even further, hiding away from the light of the stars she was no longer permitted to visit.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Silence would follow, polluting the air for several minutes. Even millennia later, the wounds of her punishment were still fresh. Are you still prepared to die for Him? For this pointless cause? she’d asked eventually, demeanor somber, not smug. The serene quiet that followed felt like Michael’s stoic, unflinching betrayal.
BROTHERS.
Her eyes were cold as steel as she left the bare cottage, leaving the pious man to his fate. One day they would learn that nothing good came of being Father’s favorite and find no sympathy on her part.
