GO TO HELL [Lucifer x Fem!Reader]

PROLOGUE

You were going to gag.

"Stop! What are you doing?" you shrieked, stepping to their side to prevent them from dipping their fingers in. "Don't you have gloves or something?"

"Did you bring me gloves?"

"You didn't ask me to bring you gloves."

"Then no, I don't have gloves."

"Can't you just leave it in the bag?" you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. Sometimes you seriously questioned your taste in friends.

"No, the book says I have to use it to draw these symbols around the pentagram," they say, sliding you the crustiest, dustiest book you've ever seen in your life. When you picked it up, you were worried it would crumble away from the way it crunched as you gripped the pages. Many of the words were blurred, including a portion of the title, which appeared to be in Latin.

You couldn't understand it, but you remembered them saying it was something to do with

summoning a demon. According to Devon, they can help you out with finances, academics, romance... You couldn't help but imagine some horned monstrosity threatening your boss into giving you a raise or breaking into your teacher's office to change your test scores.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this." You carefully handed the book back to them and walked over to their desk where you knew they kept some basic art supplies. A paint brush should work fine so long as they sanitize the living hell out of it afterwards.

You sat down beside Devon and watched them slowly dip the white bristles into the biohazard bag. The paint brush came out nearly black, as if they were painting with tar, but as it was pressed to the apartment floor, it left behind streaks of crimson. You had to lean away from the overwhelming stench of it. Iron and rot.

Devon had explained to you that they were initially going to use whatever blood they could squeeze out of a steak from the supermarket. The only problem was the ritual specifically required it be human. Obviously, that only left them with two options: Prick their own finger (though they doubted that would be enough) or murder.

That was, until they remembered what you did for work.

You landed yourself a job in a medical facility testing blood samples for all sorts of diseases. Sometimes you only had to determine the blood type or whether it would be viable for donation. Once the testing was done, the blood would be discarded.

To Devon, this meant you had unlimited access to such a valuable ingredient in their twisted little plan. It took quite a bit of convincing before you finally agreed. You were worried about the possibility of losing your job. Can you believe that?

The final symbol was drawn out, and you were wondering why you were still there. You told yourself you would be in and out. You wanted nothing to do with this. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity? Never in your life, would you have thought you'd be helping your friend with some demonic ritual.

You decided it was finally time to take your leave as Devon began chanting in Latin. That was enough fuckery for one day. God knows you want no part in whatever their little séance results in.

You barely get to your feet when the lines of salt begin to glow an ominous red. The floor within the pentagram started to crumble away into what looked like a void as you noticed your shirt being gently tugged in its direction. You backed away, not taking your eyes off of it.

There was a blinding flash, then the room was filled with a shrill, ear-piercing noise. It was as if a thousand souls were screaming out at once. You're sure you yelled out in alarm, though you couldn't hear it. Covering your ears did little to dampen the volume.

You were jerked forward suddenly as the soft pull on your shirt grew fierce. Glowing red chains manifested around your waist with matching pairs of shackles around your wrists and ankles. Your eyes followed them as they led back to the pentagram. Whatever they were attached to on the other side was a mystery.

"Devon!"

Your cry went unanswered, and you spared a glance towards your dear friend. Their eyes appeared to have rolled back in their head, still chanting mindlessly.

The chains around you grew tighter, causing you to whine in discomfort. To your horror, they continued to pull you closer to the void. You tried with all your might to fight against it, throwing your weight back, legs stiffly digging into the plastic wood flooring in front of you. It was all for naught as your socks deprived you of any traction.

You only slid closer and closer to that gaping hole.

You screamed. You fell. You clawed at whatever you could get your hands on.

Then the ground beneath you vanished, and the world went silent.