#lucifers-horror-harem | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lu-lus-dicks · 8 months ago

Text

Idk what to call this so you make up the title

@huskers-bar x @nunalastor

Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do in this fic (not yet though), minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department of the hazbin hotel (lucifer grabbed them randomly), jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu and angie as villains, lulu is a dog

chapter: 1/? Word count: 1,431

Featuring: babygirl anon and (eventually) @xxx-angie . I may add more along the way depending on who wants to be added. I can probably shoe-horn-in a few more characters

For the sake of not tagging people a million times, I will call nunalastor as a single entity nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. i will be shortened to lulu but I don't appear in this fic yet. Angie doesn't appear yet, but he will be angie.

A/N: anyway this is 100% going to be a huskers-bar harem fic because i can write whatever i want. This first chapter kinda boring but it gets better (source: trust me bro). Lemme know if you'd like to see any changes. Anyway, goodbye for now. I have uni to get to so less frequent posting (sorry dickmaster, you'll have to live without any of my horrid art for a little while)

"Did you know that Alastor made a happy deer squeak during this scene?"

Ah, yes, the words that twist people's dreams into nightmares. Innocent innitially, and maybe even amusing for a good while, but the longer one lingered, the more their skin would crawl with irritation and burn their insides. Especially when one knew the context surrounding this particular phrase. And boy, did Nunalastor know the context.

"Another day, another inbox to slay, another heavenly lord to betray" Dickmaster accessed their and Nun's shared blog, unsurprisingly to hundreds if not thousands of asks invading their inbox, all of which were echoes of different variations of *thumps* and *squeaks*. If Nunalastor hadn't already grown accustomed to such deviancy, they would be horrified. Still, the depraved ideas these people came up with never failed to send shivers down their spine, and not the pleasant kind.

And why do they subject themselves to this? you may ask. It was simple. In exchange for free housing, food and supplies, Lucifer Morningstar, the devil himself and father of Charlie Morningstar had requested their help. You see, originally their blog was not this unfortunate cesspool of deranged demons who wanted to see the devil, overlords and sinners squirm under immense sexual pleasure. It used to be a simple marketing tool for the Hazbin hotel, but as all things in hell, it never goes smoothly. It wasn't like they had a choice in the matter anyway, refusing the king of hell's requests was not an option! His commands were absolute.

Dickmaster took one deep breath, running both hands through their hair and clearing their mind, preparing for probably several hours of torture that was going to be their asks. They poured themselves a drink, setting down in front of their screen. Taking a few moments to relish the silence, they closed their eyes and listened to the soft hum of their beaten up 1950's style computer, courtesy of Alastor's ban on Voxtek products at the hotel. Clicking on their inbox tab, they mentally braced themselves. even if they knew, they could never truly predict the horrors hell had to offer.

"time for #housekeeping" They declared, stretching their fingers, getting their reaction images on the ready and sifting through their own version of digital hell. It would only get worse from here.

As Nunalastor started to clean their digital home, erasing one cursed ask after another, responding to one alastor circus theory after another, One ask in particular caught their attention. It was definitely a surprise, and a welcome one at that. It stood out like a sore thumb, simple yet elegant, divine and a blessing among heaps of cursed messages that would have asmodeus and satan themselves shaking in fear.

"hi dickmaster" - anon

Nunalastor couldn't explain it. They don't know what came over them, but they felt a strange sense of attraction to this one particular anon. They were sweet, they gave them a place of solace from the dread that was piss kink headcanons and cursed deer facts, equivelent of the clogged up plumming disasters alastor had to fix with his bare hands at the Hazbin hotel. It was the piece of gold nugget hidden in a swamp full of moss and dog urine.

Dickmaster stared at the message for a good few seconds, really taking in the plainness and beauty of the two words before their eyes, appriciating all that message was as a small smile made its way up their face. This called for a special occasion. Dickmaster gripped their keyboard, nearly smashing it with the force. Their fingers danced along the keys and crafted a response like no other, one worthy of this random anon that managed to make their day a bit brighter.

"Hi babygirl" - Nunalastor

On the other side of the pentagram, a kind, sweet and not at all deranged huskers was scrolling through hells version of tumblr. Voxtek devices had proven to be quite useful in the underworld. It served as the main source of entertainment and escape for the lonely, not only for husk, but other sinners alike. Besides, being an employee meant he had extra privileges with Voxtek. Regardless, it introduced husk to the nunalastor blog, which was the best moment of their life (or lack thereof, considering they're dead).

They'd quickly grown accustomed to the undeserved hate thrown their way upon their first ever interractioin. Though they didn't understand, they could play along. They found strange comfort in the twisted logic that any form of attention was better than none. After all, being singled out meant they were special in the eyes of Nunalastor, right? that's how husk comforted themselves anyway. And they haven't seen Nunalastor actually reply to anyone with actual love before.

That is... until it happened. Someone who would later reveal themselves as babygirl anon, husks worst adversary and the unfortunate victim of lulu's slander showed up on their feed.

"hi dickmaster" - anon

"Hi babygirl" - Nunalastor

Husk stared at the screen in shock, their eyes widening and heart growing heavy. Countless questions and conflicting emotions swirled within them, each clutching their hold for attention. 'Is nunalastor serious? Do I not want them to be serious? Why can't I be treated the same? What did I do?' And amidst the chaos, one thought rose to the surface, crystal clear in Husk's mind.

'I want to be loved like that'

The frustration of being at the end of every one of Nunalastors verbal spears finally caught up to husk. Every small jab they'd written off as jokes suddenly felt like small pin needles scraping their skin. Unable to deal with the whirlwind of emotions and the confusion of it all, Husk sought solace in the one place they could always trust, the bottom of a bottle.

So they took a swig. And another. And another. Intil there wasn't a shred of emotion left to feel. Not a single thread of frustration left in them, not a nerve of anguish, not a line of confusing verbal spewage...

And not even a speck of self-restraint

"THEY JUST KEEP COMING" Dickmaster exclaimed, more like yelled as their inbox was flooded with more cursed asks at a rate faster than they could answer. At this pace, they'll be there all day, answering these asks like a poor overworked minimum wage employee at a call center.

"They'll run out of ideas eventually" Nun responded, nonchalantly, leaning against a nearby wall, sipping on a drink of their own. Nun watched as dickmaster struggled to find another reaction image fast enough so they could call it quits and leave the rest of the struggles for future Nunalastor to handle, or more accurately when it would be nun's turn to answer all the unhinged people in their inbox.

The hurried clicking of the keys on a keyboard could be heard throughout the entire room, bouncing off the walls, reflecting exactly how much infestation was actually happening in nunalastors inbox by the minute. "it would be great if you could answer a few you know, my fingers are dyin-"

And then it suddenly went quiet. The clicking died down and the unbelievably loud buzzing of their computer, along with the hitched breathing of Dickmaster was the only sound bouncing around the room. Nun of course raised a brow at this. "what's the holdup? we can't afford to take a break you know" they said, as if they were the one answering all of the asks in the first place.

nun walked over, curious as to what exactly had stopped dickmaster in his endless pursuit of emptying their inbox, considering they were always the more enthusiastic one of the two. "are you okay?" nun asked, half sarcastically. Their eyes landed over the current ask in their inbox.

"I wish you'd love me" huskers-bar

and suddenly the silence made sense. the pause had been a justified one.

dickmaster inhaled, followed by a deep and saddened exhale. they didn't want to take their eyes off of those five words. they could stare in awe and amazement at them for hours. it wasn't even the fact that it was just another ask that wasn't cursed, but because it was huskers-bar that sent-

a hand on dickmasters shoulder snaps them out of their daze, being brought back to reality, the pitiful reality. they were in hell for a reason, they reminded themselves.

"you remember our deal, don't you, dickmaster?" nuns voice cut through the buzzing, sounding deep, gruff, threatening and slightly saddened.

"yes of course" dickmaster turned back to the monitor, giving one last look at the ask before typing out what nunalastor has agreed would be the appropriate response.

"you'll get over it. #we are a huskers-bar hate blog"

#i'm kind of sorry but i cant take writing seriously when i called one of yous dickmaster askfdjaslkdfjoasidjgf #huskers-bar x nunalastor #i hope at least. idk i dont read this shit back to myself. my self esteem is low enough already #lulu is delulu #nunwhiskers

91 notes · View notes

bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years ago

Text

"Cleaved In Twain." Danny Jonson/DBD Ghostface X AFAB! Reader.

SO it was Lottie or the amazing @lucifers-horror-harem birthday yesterday! And I wrote her a lovely little Danny fic, she has a more personalized version but you lovely people get a reader insert version to enjoy! I hope you all love it! Let's get into it!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.2K. Danny Johnson/DBD Ghostface X AFAB! Reader. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings: Obsessive Danny. Stalking. Breaking And Entering. Voyeurism. Chase. Predator/Prey. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Fucked Up Praise. Rope Play. Restrained Punishment. Spanking. Reader. ManHandling. Knife Play. Threats Of Harm. Actual Harm. Blood Play. Spanking. Punishment. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Unprotected Sex. Dub-Con. Threat Of Death. Actual Death. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

---

Love is a funny thing isn’t it?

There are movies and tv shows, books and podcasts, and tons and tons of songs, stories and more about the subject spanning back as long as human history has, and part of that is because trying to capture that feeling and articulate it to others is difficult as hell. The person to person experience of it is so varied, the differences can be vast or minute but all of them are there and valid, and yet, even with all these clearly laid out examples of what the conceptual idea of “love” is, he is damn sure he has never experienced it in any of the ways people have claimed that they have.

Danny doesn’t think he is capable of feeling it, not like he thinks he is missing out on anything, not when he has other things to fulfil him.

It isn’t like he doesn’t feel anything though, you make him feel some pretty big things, just ones that weren’t conventionally or typically appropriate. He got those intense feelings from a job well done, and from a victim well stalked and eventually skinned. He loved the thrill of being able to sneak around and view every sordid detail of a person’s life without them being the slightest bit aware of his existence. The getting to know you stage was always a total joy, finding all the little quirks that make a person unique, nailing down schedule, habits, before really going in, revealing himself and going in for the kill.

He has been watching you for, God, months. The window placement you have going on makes his job very easy.

You aren’t the only one he has been watching however, he normally has multiple irons in the fire while narrowing down who was worthy of his attention and who he really wanted to fuck with. You were interesting in how unassuming you were, the way you behaved at home, so quiet and looking so domestic, he couldn’t help how the thought got him so excited. He would get thoroughly amped up to choose a night, one that you would think is any other evening, and then come in and tear your whole life apart, end it, slash and cut until you are unrecognisable and that sad little life you called yours would be no more. Learning all he could about a life before he ended it made it all the sweeter.

Months of build up and tonight is the night, boots laced, hood up and knife sheathed and he was ready for an evening of fun ahead. He’d planned his way in over a month ago, found the easiest way one afternoon when you were out of the house.

It was late, after midnight, he was inside and ready as he will ever be to strike, he doesn’t think he is a nervous guy, a little too prepared and confident to have that kind of petty thing holding him back. Nerves are what the person on the end of the knife feels, not the one brandishing it.

Now, sometimes, no matter how much planning is put in, how much care is taken and how well he gets to know a victim, at times, they can be unpredictable.

He didn’t count on you getting up to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen and you and he staring at each other from across the hall. Him about to go to your bedroom and you standing just outside your door, hand still on the knob. You were just slightly shocked to see the strange man, over six feet tall and clad in black and leather and a mask and holy shit what were you going to do?

A beat and then you did something he wasn’t counting on tonight, you ran.

He wasn’t planning on a chase, he was planning on tying you to your bed while you were still passed out, and just ripping into you, cutting you from- Well it doesn’t matter because right now you were fucking booking it and he wasn’t going to let a small deviation like this stop him from being able to salvage his night and your murder.

As he started after you he thought it would be easy.

Ten minutes later when he still didn’t have a hold on you he thought otherwise, where the fuck did you learn to run like that? And that mouth of yours! You actually threw a few choice insults his way when you had locked yourself in the bathroom, he managed to get the door open but you still got around him, he wasn’t expecting any of this from meek little you and frankly it was pissing him off.

Well, not just pissing him off, you catching him so off guard, being so different than he was anticipating, than what he thought he knew you to be, it was, annoyingly hot.

He finally got you in the kitchen, cornered you, had you on the tiled floor on your back, his knees to your shoulders, holding you down firmly. Slight uptick in his breathing just as yours had from all the exertion, but now he’s got you.

Eyes locked up on that ghostly white mask and true while you felt fear, there was another feeling brewing inside of you.

The struggle in you stopped in short order when he forced his knees down harder and you groaned, your head tipping back against the floor and he said with a strong point, “You,-” A shake of his head with a breathy laugh he said your name and then, “- are a hard one to get a hold of.”

He sighed, “I wasn’t counting on that.”

A hard swallow and you asked, “How do you know my name?”

“That’s your biggest concern? Not how did the big scary man get into my house?” He asked and you had to give it up, he had a good fucking point. He spoke before you could, “I learned your name a while ago, been getting to know you, watching a while.”

“Watching?” You asked and he hummed, he sounded amused as he pulled out the coiled rope he brought,, “I like to watch, what can I say? I know what I like.”

A creepy, stalker with a voyuer kink, you really lucked out, didn’t you? When it rains it pours.

He reached down, began to secure and tie your hands together, movements practised and confident, “I had the whole thing figured out but then you just had to give me the run around. Do you know how fucking annoying that shit is?”

He tightened the ropes and you winced at the bite of them into your wrists, he didn’t stop, his tone was sharp, venom practically dripping from every syllable, “I didn’t think you had it in you! I thought I had you all fucking figured out but you managed to really surprise me. But, funny thing about me that you’d have no way of knowing-”

He leaned down and said the last part, his mask almost an inch away from your face, “-I don’t like surprises.”

He was angry, legitimately pissed off but still, very into this, he didn't want to let on to it, the last thing you needed was to know that small tidbit, he was hard as hell and as soon as you felt that it might just give it away. He pulled back, finished tying up your hands and he was still talking, “Who the fuck do you think you are that you think you can get away with acting like this? Fucking up MY night?”

“YOUR night?” You asked incredulously and he said, “Yes! My night! I’ve been planning this for you don’t even want to know how long and you are acting like a fucking brat and ruining this, your body, this body-”

He reached out, a leather glove clad hand reached out and gripped your throat, your whole body tensed under him, your breath caught and his other hand latched onto the blade’s handle. He unsheathed the blade and brought it down, “-is merely where I am putting my fucking knife, a vessel for my art and for my entertainment, it is not actually about you but what YOU, give to ME in this exchange.-” The knife was pressed right under your jaw as he squeezed your throat and he gritted out, “Stop being selfish and making your murder all about you.”

He stopped, he was so focused on how angry he was, on verbally berating you that he was only just now focusing on your expression and more importantly how it had shifted. You were flush, pupils dilated, panting and you were squirming, thighs rubbing together and it struck him, he tested it. He squeezed your throat and your eyes rolled back with a moan and he laughed, “Holy shit you are into this!”

A very nervous laugh spilled out, you rushed to defend yourself, “Ha! What? No! God, no-”

He pressed the blade closer and you whine pitifully and he accuses, “You are!” You try to protest more but he talked right over you, “Oh my fucking God, and here I thought I knew you! What else are you hiding from me, hmm? I’m gonna have to figure it out for myself because you are clearly no help.”

He moved off of you and he let go of your throat, he started to manhandle you and paw at your body to manoeuvre you, he knew it hurt, he wasn’t being anything near gentle but you were loving it, leaning closer. He said it in this fascinating combination of delighted and mocking, “Freak, you are a total fucking mess.”

He sighed and when he looked up, seeing something that gave him an idea, “You know, I’m still annoyed from before, I think you deserve some serious consequences.”

A questioning sound leaving you and his hand came down, a hard hit on your ass, a barely held back moan from you and he said, “Shut up, idiot.”

He got up and said firmly, “Stay slut.”

Like you could go anywhere even if you wanted to when he forced you face down ass up with your wrists tied, you were exhausted from the chase earlier too so even if you were unencumbered and in a better pose, any chance at escape was nil.

You heard him get something from off the kitchen counter and then he was back on his knees beside you, he put whatever he got down and then both hands were yanking your thin pyjama bottoms down over the curve of your ass. Another laugh rings out, his fingers hooked in your panties and he tugged, you feel his thumb rub over the crotch he had to practically peel off of you, “You’re fucking drenched-” He sing songed out the last part, reminding you again of the obvious, “-you love this.”

He was right. Your cheek was resting on your forearm, face burning with shame, you did fucking love this. How he chased you, talked to you, taunted you verbally and with his knife, spanking you, somehow he managed to tick all your boxes without even realising it at first. You feel the smooth leather of his glove on your ass after he let go of your panties, and another hard hit, another jolt of pain, “So! What else are you into?”

You keep your mouth shut and he tsk’d, “You could hardly shut up when I was chasing you and now you clam up. Shame. I guess I’ll have to figure it out all on my own…”

A pause, tension inside you builds and he says, “I did notice you seem to enjoy my knife, so I got to thinking, and it’s not always true but in the case I think that maybe bigger-”

You now know what he got from your counter. He stole the meat cleaver from your knife block and was now holding it in your line of vision, “-is better.”

A shiver ran through you before the whisper of, “Wha-what are you gonna do with that?”

He laughs, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The cleaver is pulled back and true to his word you weren’t left in the dark for long about what he had planned with it. You feel a hand resting on your lower back, and then feel it, the large plane of ice cold steel meeting your bare ass cheek and you yelp in pain and shock. Another hit and then another and the pained sounds change, shift, and yep, you are into it and it is obvious and you are totally fucked. He is using the cleaver as a makeshift paddle to punish you, it was extremely painful, unrelenting, covered a ton of surface area in one hit, he was strong and could put a lot of power behind it too.

“You’re dripping down your thigh.” You feel him wipe some of it up, “Maybe you have more potential than I thought, disgusting thing that you are, I wonder what else you’d be into.”

Another hit and a much bigger shock of pain to your system, the edge caught you when he pulled back, he cut the back of your thigh, right before the meat of your ass started and you hissed, a suck of your teeth as tears welled up, voice wavering, “Did you cut me?”

You asked it without thinking and he laughed, “Oops.”

Another hit and you moaned, fingers curl, you wish you had something to hold onto and he didn’t fucking stop. The guy clearly had experience with knives, you are sure the cuts that he continues to give you are all on purpose, the pretending they were an accident was part of the bit.

Between your legs, the backs of your thighs were a total fucking wreck, slick and sweat and blood, you were crying into your forearm’s sleeve and he hadn’t stopped with the creative insults, and you were loving every fucked up second of it.

“How many hits was that?” He asked and you were still crying into damp fabric and he repeated himself, louder, “I asked you a question, whore.”

You were supposed to be counting this whole time? You sniffed, lifting your head slightly, “I-I wasn’t-I-”

“You didn’t keep count?” A hard hit, you cried out in pain and he admonished you further, “Fuck. You are totally useless.”

He brought the cleaver down, hard, right next to your head, he cracked the tile in the process, the sound and action made you jump. “Awe, scared?”

Not wanting to piss him off further, you say, “Yes.”

His response was only one word but it’s all he needed. “Good.”

Hands were back on you, “Look at all this.” His fingers trailed through the dripping blood he drew from you earlier, and then he managed to do something to surprise you, glove covered fingers dragged up through your folds and you gasped in shock. After so much pain the sudden rush of pleasure hit you like a ton of bricks and stole all the breath from your lungs.

A moan crosses your lips as his fingers dropped back down, he rubbed your clit, the slickness of your blood acting as lube as he touched, you leaned back, closer to him and he said, “You’d never guess how depraved you are just by looking at you.”

His digits slide back up, two fingers delve inside and he starts to finger your own blood into you, a loud moan tears out, your head falls forward as he hooks his fingers and finds that sweet spot inside that makes you gasp. He sounds very amused as he teases, “Too easy.”

And you feel him press his hips forward and you feel how hard he is, “You feel what you’re doing to me by acting like such a little nympho? Taking all this with an arch and a moan, you are so fucked-”

He continued to rock his fingers inside of you, focusing on that same spot and you are taken by all of this, head nearly spinning from how tonight has gone, the lingering pain, the searing pleasure, weak, you felt very weak. Fingers fucking in and out, his thumb stroking tight circles around your clit making your writhe.

His fingers leave you rather unceremoniously and you whine, another hit on your already bruised ass and you sob, he spits out, “Stop bitching.”

You hear his pants opening and then feel him press to you, hard and unbelievably hot. “Got any cute comments or complaints?”

A weak shake of your head and he asked, “You want it?”

You did, you nod with a bite of your bottom lip and he said, sickeningly saccharine, “Course you do.”

Thankfully he didn’t make you beg but he seemed pretty riled up too. His hips slam forward, making you take him all at once and you cry out against the floor, the sudden burn and stretch overtakes but there is no time to linger, his hips move, no time for you to adjust.

“Fuckkk-you act like such a slut but you don’t feel like one.” His hands gripping your hips, he started to really take, fucking into you quicker, harder. It’s disgusting, filthy, you feel like it too, he was your stalker, he broke in here to kill you for Christ’s sake and you are getting fucked dumb by him and you were…

Living for it, loving it, of course you were.

You have given up any pretence of pretending that you aren’t into it, not like you can hide it, he can feel you clenching on him, hear you moaning, feel you moving back onto him. “You are so stupid-”

You agree, unthinking, just concerned with the pleasure coursing through you, steadily building, the mix of it with the pain from every slam of his hips into your ass, aggravating the cuts, making them weep more blood was doing everything for you. “M’ so stupid-”

“You wanna know why?” He asked, another thrust punctuated with a moan and you bite, “Yea-yeah, God, yeah.”

“Because you think I’m still not gonna kill you-”

You gasp, dragged ever closer to the edge and a loud moan is pulled from him, followed by a laugh, “Fuck! You just clenched THAT hard from the threat of death. It’s got me wondering something-”

He reached out, he picked up the cleaver and leans over, his chest to your back, his hand comes around, he holds the cleaver to your throat and he says, “I wonder how hard you’d squeeze me if I cut your fucking throat right now.”

He pressed harder and you couldn't stop it, eyes squeezed shut, you can barely hear it through the haze as your orgasm overtook, positive it might be the last thing you ever do, him taking you cumming as consent, he asks the obvious, your body has already sealed your fate, “You wanna find out?”

Again, Danny doesn’t think love is for him, doesn’t think he can feel it. But swinging that cleaver with a little force, slashing into your throat, causing it to break open before you’ve come down from your orgasm. Blood pouring out over the blade, over his wrist and down onto the tile, your cunt still twitching and then seizing impossibly tight on his dick while he is buried balls deep, making him unable to pull out, is pretty fucking close to what he imagines love feels like for “normal people.”

Cumming in a victim at the moment of death is the ultimate high, he thinks he might just never top it. If you were still alive or conscious or able to hear him he’d thank you.

#BHF writing #Happy birthday Lottttie #Danny Johnson x reader #slasher x reader #Ghostface x reader #Enjoy the filth

161 notes · View notes

jeetlebeetle · 7 months ago

Note

Anime AU:

Alastor the anime dude, he doesn’t like Vox that much, and Lucifer was in love with Lilith. At first this is the anime comedy. Vox always lean in and try to kiss Alastor but Alastor always kick him and Vox flies off. Lucifer joined in the Alastor’s group during Alastor’s work and house. Until Lilith sees Alastor and this anime AU has become a mix of comedy and Mirai Nikki-

This is also bit of harem here XD. Harem Comedy and Mirai Nikki mix QwQ… Lilith always loves Alastor.

Omg yes!!! Alastor would be that student in charge of the P.A. System / morning and evening announcements; Lilith and Lucifer would be vice and student presidents respectively; and Vox would be in the A.V. Club with Alastor 🤩🤩

Alastor is more into the Audio aspect of the A.V. Club while Vox is more into the Video/Visual aspect. He feels like Alastor is wasting his good looks time by hiding behind a microphone and has been crushing on him since middle school.

Lilith and Lucifer are childhood friends and Lucifer has always loved her. Lilith just views him as a dear friend, and they make a great team! They work super well together and are great leaders at the school! Things start to go a bit downhill when the student government pays a visit to all the different clubs, and Lilith meets Alastor.

When she sees this shortish red-head seething, grin stretched across his face while his taller club mate is shouting about how television broadcasts are vastly superior, all bets are off. She sees him and she knows that he’s the one for her. Lucifer sees the smitten look written across her face in abject horror, and Alastor suddenly registers their presence. Immediately turning charming and welcoming them into the club room, really cranking up the manners while Vox is silently glaring daggers at him

So much potential for this au im obsessed anon 🤩

#anime au #hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer morningstar #lilith #vox #alastor x lilith #lilastar #radiofemme #radiostatic #staticradio #one sided radiostatic #radiosilence #anon #answers

23 notes · View notes

lucifers-trash-stash · 3 months ago

Note

I kind of feel like an FBI agent because I just KNEW you had to be on tumblr and I finally found you :P Sincerely, Your fellow Kim connoisseur from letterboxd... CJ ;)

OH SHIT!!! Dude I love that you had that thought because you're absolutely right that my ass is hanging around here lmaooooo I'm so glad I checked on desktop cause I almost missed this cause I hang a lot more on my sideblog @lucifers-horror-harem and post there a ton more along with most of my Kim Coates gifs so wink wonk if u want more of that there ;) But dudeeeee I love connecting the dots like oh shit I've seen and followed your page but never was like. Hmmmm perhaps these two people...... are the same LOL Small fucking world

#asks

15 notes · View notes

applesontheground · 2 years ago

Text

🕯️mama didn't raise a quitter ⛓️

happy multi-may! i'm a little late but i'm watching Joy Ride 3 with my homies tonight, so the timing was important to give you guys another installment of these two bastards barely managing during a threesome. this isn't a hard sequel to push and shove, but the love bite that the reader received in the aforementioned are called back to at one point. that's really it, though, so it's not terribly necessary to read the former if you haven't!

also, since they asked for a tag when i finally posted this: @bisexual-horror-fan @tinalbion @lucifers-horror-harem ♡♡♡

NSFW | Word Count: 3,254 | Bo Sinclair x GN Reader x Rusty Nail

contains polyamory/threesome, slight dubcon, hinted age gap, ogling, unhealthy dynamics, teasing, GN penetration, handjobs, slapping, possessive talk, be warned: the hinge poly comes off its hinges

🎼: x

You didn’t quell either of them so much as you simply acted as a buffer. These wires still had their moments of crossing – Bo saying one thing too much that made Rusty lose his temper, or the vice versa that was twice as dangerous.

Sometimes, it felt more like a custody battle than an open relationship between the two of them. It was such a chore some nights to talk one man into staying the night with the other, still falling into the standard of wanting you to themselves. Rusty didn’t care to challenge taking Bo from Ambrose, and Bo was some days far too conservative to open the bedroom to another person. You weren’t sure what it would take, but you also knew you weren’t going to keep trying to encourage it if neither of them would go for it.

It had to fall into their hands eventually.

Rusty liked to get out of town, but just like with the sleepovers, dragging Bo with the two of you was like herding trigger-happy cats. You finally got him by pointing out no one in the right mind would travel to Ambrose during bad weather. As he got in the truck, a begrudging passenger simply because he didn’t feel like arguing, he made sure to still give the cold shoulder while adjusting in his seat.

It only lead to him rubbing against you with his rain-spotted arm on accident while doing so. You glanced up, smiling when it got his attention and gaining that friendly wag of the eyebrows in return. Soon, it became a downcast look over towards the shirt that was open one button too low. Even in the wake of summer rain in the South, it was still insanely humid. It kind of made the two common weather afflictions even worse, the edges of your hair curling twice as much in the damp air and causing you to sweat alongside being soaked from the storm.

“Ever heard of keeping your eyes forward, Bo?” Rusty chided, putting the truck into motion while prematurely smiling at what he knew would follow. The other man spat, “You should do the same, not worry ‘bout me for once.” He looked to you for rebuttal, and not wanting to sink your heels into anyone’s camp you merely pecked a kiss on his cheek, remaining silent. It was hard to play the field some days because quiet only did so much. Rusty didn’t mind quiet, but it sometimes hit a bad spot in Bo that made him desperate for an answer.

The rest of the ride was a calculated effort to keep the affection divvied out, leaning on Bo’s shoulder but also having a hand on Rusty’s thigh in the process. Sure, this got exhausting, but you were adamant to keep the peace because you loved both men. Even if they didn’t particularly mesh with each other, you found yourself having trouble with sleep without the demanding snuggles from each dude nowadays. It got suffocating, but in the turmoil of these two you found that you were reaching an almost codependent point where you needed it that way to stomach the constant bickering, and the constant roughness around the relationship’s edges.

Still, a quaint diner that sat in the middle of open field – right by the tree line where the trek to Ambrose would start through the forest – was decided on after Bo found the open horizon a little daunting. He played it as “needing to stay close in case the brothers need me”. Rusty and you obliged, the soft spot for his close-knit family coming along with him rather easily. If only Rusty and Bo could find common ground like they do with Les and Vincent, you silently mulled.

Truck stops were uncommon the closer you strayed to Ambrose, which made the fact that Rusty even ran into you kind of a strike of weirdly placed luck. It had almost been a year since that happened, and even a couple months was all the two of you had before finding Ambrose and getting caught in Bo’s waxwork web. The closest analogy you considered was like finding an Easter egg in some fresh April grass, but as you took a sip of your coffee you glanced to Bo scanning the room, one arm sliding over the back of the booth as he pretended to stretch, getting a better view of the people at the counter all while still trying to appear idle with his observation, you found that pastel colored jewel rotted to a color a tad darker in your head.

Still, it made you smirk, the hand that wasn’t holding your mug going over to drag gently along the edge of his ring while you did your own quiet people watching.

You would assume Rusty had an aversion to light with how low he wore his hat, even indoors. You teased that it looked like he was sleeping half the time, trying to play it off by hiding his face any time more than two people were in the room with him. You smirked at the sight of it, blowing in his direction even. He slowly turned his head, and you giggled, “Just making sure you aren’t nodding off.”

“You know I can’t sleep with this many people around, [Y/N].” Rusty drawled, “Really wouldn’t mind if you didn’t get off on embarrassing me.” You hummed at that, almost understanding as you then eased, “Sorry, Rusty. I can find a way to make it up to you if you’d like.”

Bo snorted, but he ignored it and asked back, “Being a little negotiator. Old habits always seem to die hard with you.”

“Did you need more coffee, [sir/ma’am]?” Your eyes were torn away from him, all three of you eyeing the waiter standing by the outside of the booth. Looking down at your quarter-full mug, you then replied, “Oh, sure.” As he poured, you piped up just as quickly, “Thank you,”

The second that smile came over your face, it was like blood in the water. You couldn’t help it; you worked as a waitress for one of your first jobs, so the urge to be overtly kind was often potent at restaurants. Still, he then smiled back a little too widely – something you didn’t react to until he walked away. Your bright expression deflated, and you saw either man on your shoulders from your peripherals. They had their arms folded on the table, acting nonchalantly for the same reasons of saving face, being cordial.

When he wasn’t looking, though, they both were quick to give him a fair sizing up. “…Y’don’t like it either?” Bo’s hand slid from the back of the booth, landing on the shoulder furthest away from him as he caught the way Rusty was staring along with him.

Enveloped in the warmth and the phantom of cigarettes on both his flannel and his breath, he muttered to him, “Think we both need some retribution for bringin’ our [fella/gal/baby] out here just to be toyed with.” Rusty shook his head at that, hat worn lower as he scoffed, “You’re not being sly, Sinclair.”

“That’s right, m’not. I don’t pussyfoot it like the both of you.” His finger trailed up, gently grazing the side of your neck and only growing more friendly and lavish as he noticed the way it made your skin tighten, the bumps revealing under fluorescent lights. “I’m saying we should take this little heartbreaker home after this, where [he/she belongs / they belong].” You gave him a cautious glance, assurance that you knew your best spot was right in the middle of the two of them. Rusty caught the stare, and you shifted to give it to him, too. You even smiled a little in the same fashion. It was your trademark at this point.

“Don’t think it’s your fault, [cowboy/little miss],” Rusty hummed, and he adjusted in his seat as he mentioned, “But the boy’s got a point. Gettin’ a little too friendly with strangers.”

“And you know how dangerous that can get,” Bo reminded you from the other side, making your smile feign into something more sheepish as you murmured, “You both know I didn’t mean anything by it. Why are you so antsy?”

Rusty gestured briefly to the counter, “Waiter boy doesn’t know that, now does he?” Bo grinned, a rare bout of toothiness as he then snickered, “Probably thinks Rusty’s your daddy.” You bit your tongue at that; partially to keep from smiling and another part to keep a joke about how that wasn’t necessarily wrong to yourself. The older man leaned against the table now, crossing his arms and giving Bo a sharp glance as he brought up, “Sure, and you can be her shit-kicker boyfriend-“Your heart sat in your throat as you felt Bo’s movement lose its softness against your throat, slow down and finally curl back around your shoulder, “who don’t know how to act when in front of the parents. Fits you rather nicely.”

He then laughed, a rather wicked smile as he picked up on the shift in demeanor. You merely looked down at the table. It was your turn to do the soothing, rubbing the knuckles that were still around your shoulder with the hand that wasn’t currently set against his side, and he muttered, “Funny. You’re real funny, Rusty.”

“Well, I can be funnier when we get back. Give you my own retribution along with [Y/N].” Rusty then replied.

With how tense the booth became, you weren’t sure if you were even hungry anymore.

They could be heinous in broad daylight, but in the cover of the Sinclair home, the blinds in Bo’s bedroom drawn tight and thunder from outside quelling anything from leaving the walls with its own cacophony, you were in a familiar position between the two men rather fast.

It was a reverse from your last romp, Rusty now the one you were using for support while Bo was easing up from behind, not shy to jerk your hips to where he needed them, feeling the anger from earlier coming out in how quick his blunt nails were scratching your skin raw where your hips and thighs met. It was a welcome intrusion, painful in the way that made you relish in such a primal, gut-socking hurt as it dripped from the precum into your senses. His cock took its time prodding your entrance before finding the way, a brute force that was sharp enough to make you squeal.

Still, he looked up at the man on the other end of you, and suddenly his erection fell out, hipbone colliding with you and making you wince a second time. Before you could assure him it was fine and even plead for him to try again, Rusty’s hand slid over the top of your head, pushing your face down close to his lap.

“I don’t remember datin’ a quitter.”

“Ain’t dating you.” Bo reminded him as he tried to shift his focus back to you, one hand between your shoulder blades and pushing down so you were at an angle where you absolutely battered by his gaining motions. You tried to raise your head up again to moan but was subsided by Rusty putting his hand over your mouth, callouses itching your upper lip as he took a long look into your eyes, then back to the man behind you.

“Sure, if it helps you get along that's fine, but I still sleep in your bed. Let you sleep in mine ‘longside [Y/N] in the occasion you think about leavin’ home.” His hand fell from your mouth, thumb settled on your bottom lip as you tried to stare up at him from crossing eyes, Bo still not letting up despite failing to tune the other man out.

“Again, don’t remember asking you any of this shit.” Bo retorted, but he was trying to distract himself with re-entering. The second time, you were prepared and it felt twice as good when he slid inside again, your back arching as you began the fight to keep at least slightly upright, clinging to the back of Rusty’s neck, a dog to how husky his breathing had gotten as you were to the pressure from Bo.

You caught your window moaned out, “Bo, that’s good. Could you s-stop arguing and fuck me already, I-“ That alone was enough to get him to lash out, arms hooking around your torso, cradling your [breasts/pecs] with one arm as he pulled your back to his chest, fucking with a newfound, enraged pace. “Fine. Fuckin’ fine, but I’m getting’ you to myself, wanna see that pretty goddamn face. Here you go,” He said under his breath, teeth glinting in the dim light, but soon relaxing as you turned to jelly to see you easily fit snug against him, “There you go.”

He couldn’t fucking linger, once again snapping his gaze to look at Rusty, mouth slightly open as he cupped your jaw, eyes darting from the man on the other side to down at you mewling with a tipped back head, resting in the crook of his shoulder as the words all fell to the wayside now.

“Fuckin' crybaby.” He murmured in your ear, not shy with an open hand to tap your face, make you groan in both response and in the sheer pleasure from it.

Rusty chuckled as you couldn’t help the drool fall from the corner of your mouth, making another overwhelmed groan through a strong exhale, trying to catch your breath but your chest once again constricting at another quiet noise in your ear from Bo. “Well, [he/she/they] might be a little too worn down for me, boy. How’s about you and I go at it when you’re done doin’ what you’re doin’?”

“Hell no.” Bo snarled, but your eyes popped a little wider to feel the suggestion had made his cock throb in your walls, and you only clenched in response. Holding where his forearm was barred around your chest, you smirked to yourself, wondering where this was about to go before humming as a way to fall back into the jostling you were receiving, your [cunt/hole] starting to ache from all the movement.

“I won’t mark you up, know that ain’t your favorite. That’s just for [Y/N], ain’t that right, [little lady/cowboy]?” You hummed in affirmation, and it only made Bo huff along in bemusement, his hand trailing to touch the bite marks still showing against your ribcage, press a little just to hear you cry out again.

Rusty leaned in, making you whimper in submission to the imposing of his figure, but smile a little in the well-known excitement to get both in close quarters. “I know what you like, Bo. You like a hand ‘round that cock, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” He gritted, the first remnants of a final spray of precum making your thighs shiver against his. He had to catch his breath after those two words, once again looking away from the both of you as he tried to focus on how you felt. You were becoming lightheaded, out of tune with the two of them to stop the bickering and seeping with warmth. You were sure to fall flat on your face into the bed if Bo stopped holding you against him, being the full support and knowing it as his grip adjusted.

“I’ve slipped my finger in you before. Thought you’d pass out from how hard it made you. Came all over our pretty [boy/girl/baby’s] face, too.” He didn’t dare touch you while Bo had his hands on you, yet Rusty didn't have to as he suddenly sputtered in his movements as Bo saw it clear as day in his mind, and it took him to the edge.

“That’s right. Still gets you all worked up even if you won’t admit it. It’s alright, I enjoy the look of it, too.” Rusty eased him down, the younger man’s panting long and heavy in your ear, almost as humid against your skin as the rainy summer air you had been feeling not even an hour ago, warmth seeping into your body as he thoroughly drove upwards in fluid thrusts.

The breathing broke down into quiet moans, something you knew he could let out in a louder fashion if he wanted. He looked down, almost turning into you to hide in your hair as your hand trailed up, stroking his brown curls and even turning your head to kiss him, your walls spasming against his body as he fell flaccid, cock still settled inside of you. He was covering your nipples with his arm, a subconscious act of possessive nature.

You were regaining the critical thought in your mind, and now curious. Still pressing feather light kisses against Bo’s face, your eyes then darted back to Rusty. He wasn’t interested in you anymore, per se, and that was a new thing. Something you found you didn’t mind, now leaning out of the way and smiling at him so he could see the confused, slightly shaken man behind you.

You didn’t think he could have eyes for Bo, too, but here you all were. Like a pressure to keep them cordial was slipping out of your responsibility, you murmured, “Want me to get out the way, Rusty?”

Bo flinched a little, but Rusty perked at that and hummed, “That’d be nice of you, [babydoll/pretty boy].” You couldn’t help it, Bo letting go finally and you nearly crashing into the other man, pressing another adoring kiss to his lips before scrambling out of the other man's lap. Bo was still reeling from the last rut, but you gave support in arms around his waist, tucked close over one shoulder despite being out of sight.

It was exhilarating to see them face to face, and you whispered, “No shame in this, Bo. He’ll treat you well, figure out what makes you scream. Believe me.” His eyes were downcast, unable to keep from getting a little hard in record time, face flaring in a flustered color. You encouraged it, smiling against his throat, “That’s it. Look at you, I didn’t know you could get hard that fast.”

“Quit,” He finally chided, but he was holding your leg that framed his with a ferocity refusing to reveal itself as nerve.

“Not asking you to like me, Bo. Just askin’ you to work with me for a change.” You knew where Rusty's hand had found itself, Bo’s entire body growing tense but quickly shivering with an almost frightened level of ecstasy after the initial hold went around him. You did your best to quell the ferocity, kissing up and down the column of his neck, feeling Rusty’s other hand come around to brace your other leg to his hip.

“Both of us can’t get enough of you,” You whispered, and Bo tried to make his voice gruff at that to groan, but it cracked: he merely hummed in another bout of desperation, head tipping down as he spat, “Swear to god if you tear my dick off-“

You couldn’t help it, laughing and hiding your face against his bare shoulder as Rusty paused and Bo smirked at him. Rusty almost wanted to laugh, merely tipping his head in a bemused acknowledgement before the younger man finally let his hands slide up his counterpart's thighs, and he then added just for good measure under his breath.

“Don’t remember datin’ a quitter.”

#bo sinclair x reader x rusty nail #bo sinclair x reader #rusty nail x reader #slasher x reader #notsfw #✏️#🕯️#⛓️

147 notes · View notes