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winterzsurprise · 11 months

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Taking care of you || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: Miguel comes home after a rough week and a half out of his universe and you decided that the only way to take care of him was to web him down.

Tags: NOT BETA READ, SMUT, bondage, overstimulation, denied orgasms, multiple orgasms, blowjob, blindfolds, he bites you and paralyzes you, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), big dick Miguel, sub Miguel (ig??? he still try to get the upper hand throughout)

Words: 2k

I was struggling because all the words I know are aggressive because I watch gaming streamer (Quackity & Roier) and I don't think moaning pendejo or chinga tu madre is very sexy.

Spanish speakers, tell me what moanable curses you guys have, it's for science (I am begging u)

mi vida - my life || cariño - honey || mi amor - my love || dios mio - my god || mierda - shit || puta madre - motherfucker

When Miguel came home after a long week and a half, he’d expect a heartful meal to consume before passing out on a warm bed beside you. To get bound on the chair with a special web fluid designed to keep him down in the dimly lit apartment is not one of those expectations.

Being a Spider-Man with no spider senses, his first instinct was to break out of the binds, calming down and unmasking once he caught a whiff of your scent.

“Mi vida? What are you planning this time?”

“Nada, is it a crime to want to take care of you?”

Your touch burned through his suit as you dragged your fingers across his chest. After days without being to see nor feel your presence near him, the desire in his chest grew from a pea sized to universal.

“I’ll give you thirty minutes to finish what you planned before I break out of this shit.”

You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look over his shoulder where you stood so mysteriously with no indication of your clothing visible to his eyes.

“You won’t.”

Miguel chuckled. “Why not? I can probably break out of this if I want to.”

“I’ll go back home to my dimension for a month and you wouldn’t even be able to find me since you’d be busy with work.”

He frowned, cursing under his breath to which you giggled at.

“Are you going to break out, mi amor?”

He said nothing, turning away bitterly and you took it as a win.

“Now, let me take care of you.”

When your lips first touched his neck, a spark went off in his veins. He grunts as your hands start roaming his chest with feather-light touches, forcing him to retract the suit to be able to feel your warmth on his skin to complete the gaping hole in his chest.

There was something about Miguel being tied up, hopeless and responsive to your touches as depravity clawed at his chest.

The frustrated groan when you pulled away to reposition yourself to sit on his lap told you everything you knew, the tent poking you when you sat on him was also a confirmation. Placing a kiss on his cheekbones, you pulled out the blindfold from your pockets and he groaned.

"Really?"

"Oh shush."

You've read somewhere about blindfolds enhancing the experience as a whole, something about taking out one sense amplifying the others and decided to try it out tonight.

And Miguel having sharper senses than most Spider people only made your plan irresistible to not do.

Tying it around his eyes, you find yourself enamored with how vulnerable and submissive he looks right now.

"Darling, you look so pretty like this."

He scoffed. "I would look better on top of you, cariño."

"Fair enough."

Unbuttoning his shirt, you placed light kisses on every inch of skin exposed to your eyes while he'd sigh at the feeling of your lips on him. You weren't able to unbutton it all nor push it away due to the webs but you deemed it perfect as long as his pecs and some parts of his collarbones are out in the open.

Turning your attention to his pants, you captured his lips with yours and it instantly grew heated with a hunger not even a meal alone can satisfy. Pulling his fly down, your hands rose to tug at his hair to which he groaned, a reaction you've never had in the past.

Is it really effective?

Pulling away, you tugged on his waistbands and pulled them down to reveal his girth standing at full attention leaking with pre-cum.

"Fuck… touch me."

“You’re not in control here.”

Even then, you wrapped your hand around his dick and even that alone got his breath stuck to his throat.

Maybe you should bring the blindfold more often…

Pumping him leisurely, he threw his head back, melting into the chair, thighs spreading wider as the enhanced ecstasy spiked his veins, stirring every fiber of his system awake.

"Mierda, th-that feels so good…"

The sight of his glistening chest heaving heavily as sweat beads on his forehead is enough to make your nose bleed till the next year. A memory forever ingrained in your mind.

You trailed kisses on his collarbones and up to the side of his neck. Miguel's streams of mumbled Spanish curses and shaky exhales should be classified as a drug with how addicted and how greedily you were engulfing every noise he makes.

"You look so pretty like this baby, it makes me want to tease you a little."

He said nothing, reveling in the nirvana you offered him so generously. His hips struggled and writhed in the small space he was allowed to, chasing his promised euphoria with desperation.

But before he could notify you, you unmounted him and he let out a frustrated groan. Miguel was about to rip the binds until you got to your knees, only to web his feet to the chair legs as well and he grew more tempted to do so.

"Come on! Even the feet?"

"Gotta secure the package, darling."

Placing chaste kisses on his weeping head, the complaints died down in his throat. You then laved your tongue around his slit, gathering as much of his pre-cum and he groaned, dick twitching in your hold. His taste is heavy on your tongue and you moan.

You missed him on your tongue.

Taking his whole cockhead, Miguel flinched, arms struggling behind him as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked hard while circling your tongue around his girth, providing him multiple sensations surrounding his girth.

"Dios mio, remove this blindfold. I wanna see you." He said, almost begging. "Please?"

"No, you look prettier this way."

Your hands stroked the places your mouth couldn't reach and Miguel's thighs trembled. His pants and borderline whimpers sounded like a sweet melody, the sight of his perspired skin glistening under the moonlight with his head thrown back burning itself at the back of your lids.

You'd stop at nothing to be able to see him like this again.

Then you heard a snap from the webs and you halted, pulling away to his absolute dismay.

"No no no no, ay puta madre—"

"Stop struggling and maybe I will continue."

He didn't say anything, his fuzzy mind struggling to conjure any good bargain to bring up.

"R-remove the blindfold then I'll consider."

"Nope."

He groaned, almost whiny and you grinned. Miguel slowly settled down, suppressing himself from breaking more threads. Once you deemed him behaved enough, you dipped down to take him in once more.

Relaxing your mouth, you sink in another inch of him before descending as further as you could go and pumping the other areas you knew you couldn't reach. The groan that left his lips was guttural, almost animalistic.

"Fuck, I'm near. Deeper cariño, I know you can do it."

Pinching his shaking thighs, you quickened your strokes while waiting for any tell tale of his climax. When his breathing picked up and his abdomen pulsed, you pulled away.

And Miguel whimpered.

And he realized it a little too late, cheeks darkening as he groaned in embarrassment.

"You did not hear that."

You laughed lightly. "But it was cute."

"Fuck your cute and pretty bullshit, why did you pull away?!"

You grinned. "I liked seeing you struggle."

"Ripping this off gets very tempting every passing second."

"I'll run away and don't think I won't do it."

The sound of you shedding off your shorts stopped him from mumbling incoherent complaints. You swung your leg over his thighs and placed yourself above his weeping dick. With his sense of smell

"Don't break from the webs, alright? If you do—"

"You'll run away, I know. Just fucking get on with it."

"So impatient, what if I don't do anything at all?"

"I will break off these chains and take you on the floor. Don't tempt me." He growled, pushing his arms out, stretching the webs as a demonstration.

Rolling your eyes, you lined him against your heat and sank down, the hardest part of your plan for the evening. Despite trying your best to stretch yourself out earlier before his arrival along with the drenched state you're in, it proved useless with how difficult it was to have him.

You hissed as the burn of the stretch lit your veins on fire and Miguel grunted, arms twitching at his sides.

"St-stop clenching so hard!"

"Not my fault you have a big dick!"

As you take in more of his inches, Miguel grew crazy at the warm tightness surrounding him reawakening the denied orgasm earlier. The blindfold taking away his sight only magnified the pleasure flooding his system to the brim. The coil in his abdomen tightened and he threw his head back, absolutely light-headed and drunk on ecstacy.

"Le-let me bite you, yeah? It'll go away. Fuck…! I'm so close..."

You didn't second guess his intentions, falling to his shoulder with your neck bared to his lips. Trusting your Spider-Man genes, he spared no time leaning down and sinking his fangs into you.

You gasped at the feeling of his incisors piercing your skin as your mind grew fuzzy and your body numbed itself to paralysis. Miguel, desperate for his climax, plunged his entire length into you before thrusting savagely in and out of your heat.

The sound of a hundred threads ripping off cuts through the air, his arms surged from behind the chair to curl around you. His heavy exhales, borderline whines, made your brain short circuit as he chased after his denied orgasms ferociously.

Panting openly on your shoulders with your name vaguely murmured like a mantra, you moaned at his sounds as he came with a shout, the feeling of his liquid arousal spurting into you made you shiver with delight but the shaking thighs beneath you only fueled your arousal further.

"F-fuck…! Thank you cariño. Mierda..."

The paralysis ebbs away while Miguel continues to convulse, albeit weaker than before. Mouth hung open as he threw his head back, hands falling to your waists.

"How rude, you didn't even consider my pleasure, mi amor."

His grip on your sides tightened as you bounced on his dick and he faltered, trembling as he gasped and groaned at the overstimulation nipping at his senses. His hands tapped your thighs, asking for some rest and you slowed, waiting for him to use your safeword.

When he didn't, you picked up your previous pace and grinned.

"But when I did that, did you stop, cariño?"

He didn't answer as streams of Spanish curses and colorful words escaped his mouth.

"Exactly, so take it like a king, alright? Maybe I'll forgive you for getting off the web."

You rolled your clit in tight and fast circles, growing merciful for him as his sounds turned into whimpers and pleads. The sinful sight of his sweaty self blindfolded and body intoxicated by ecstasy along with his beautiful noises was enough to bring you to the edge.

With a few strokes and rolls of your beads, you came. Warmth explodes from your chest to your fingertips and you let yourself sag to his shoulder whilst he grunted at the stings of overstimulation still mouthing at him as your walls pulsed around him.

"Fuck…! G-get off…"

He didn't even manage to get his sentence out when he exploded again inside of you and practically lost consciousness with how lax he turned beneath you.

Concerned, you tapped his cheeks. "Baby, are you still there?"

It took a while but he eventually answered, removing the blindfolds himself to peer up at you with glazed eyes. "Barely… You won't leave right?"

"Yeah, I was joking."

"Alright…"

You smiled, placing kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and lips. Miguel's face bloomed at this, grinning slightly.

"You did so well, darling."

He only nods. "I'm confiscating that solution by the way, you're not webbing me up again."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman smut #spider man smut #spider man fics #marvel smut #marvel fics #miguel o'hara x reader smut

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dr3c0mix · 1 year

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Infernal Infatuation

Demon x Gn Reader

I've had a little idea for a while but never managed to write it out. This is gonna be a 2-part fic so better strap in folks :)

CW: murder, gore, shit friend-group, brief mention of animal slaughtering, demonic themes

🔥 You cursed yourself as you sat uncomfortably squished between the car door and one of your friends who didn't even awknowledge your distress.

🔥 Why did you have to listen to your friends? Why did you agree to their text about joining them in trying to perform a "cool demonic looking ritual" they found online? Why is this car so sticky???

🔥 It was loud and generally overwhelming inside the car, blaring music was coming from the speaker, everyone was moving around and singing along to the songs at the top of their lungs, and it looked almost 2am from how dark it was.

🔥 Your friends figured that you all could get in trouble if you performed their little "game" where lots of people could see and decided to drive out somewhere along the highway that had little to no people passing through, especially during that time of day.

🔥 One of your friends, Justin, remembered an old abandoned warehouse that was near and unmonitored, the perfect place to mess around.

🔥 The car turns and drives off the road, rolling along a bumpy terrain as you can see the warehouse grow closer as the car's headlights illuminate its rusty exterior.

🔥 An uneasy feeling grows within your stomach as everyone gets out of the car laughing and checking out the building. You can't keep your eyes off it as its old walls held a sense of dread and doom.

🔥 Audrey, the one who asked you to join, wrapped an arm around you and laughed. "What are you doing you weirdo? C'mon! We got a monster to summon!" She jokes as she catches up to the others. You sigh and shake off the last bits of fear in you.

🔥 Audrey takes out her phone and reads the instructions for the ritual. Your other friends helped in lighting candles, drawing the pentagram and sigils while Justin recorded everything, laughing like it was some everyday prank. You just sat there, getting more and more concerned about the situation.

🔥 You ask Audrey if you could leave, the scene getting a bit much for you but she scoffs, calling you a pussy. Your brow furrows and you sit back down, very hurt by her comment.

🔥 Once everything was set, everyone stood around the pentagram. You join hands as Audrey reads out the chant, Justin still snickering to himself behind his phone.

🔥 "Oh yeah, it says everyone has to make a blood sacrifice of something but we got that covered." Audrey laughs and pulls out a jar of blood from the duffle bag she brought. Apparently they just took the blood from a pig and settled on it, but you feared about the consequences of cheating the ritual so you take a small knife you carry around all the time for self defense and cut a tiny slit in your finger, you drop it in the center while everyone carelessly pours the pig's blood in.

🔥 Everyone goes silent before a low rumbling is felt in the ground, like the earth itself was pulsing.

🔥 Suddenly, the candles are blown out, the smoke from the wicks swirling around the center of the circle as the ground shook violently. Everyone but you start exclaiming in astonishment like it was a magic trick in a circus.

🔥 You step back as the swirl of smoke forms into somewhat of a humanoid shape. The pentagram starts glowing red as the smoky figure opens its pitch eyes, the smoke dissipates to reveal what looks like a man, his grey skin was scattered in black tattoos that covered his arms and back as well as parts of his face. He had ghostly white hair that framed his sharp face perfectly. His tail swished behind him what went from his skin's grey to black the closer it got to the tip. He blinks and white pupils appear in his black eyes. He wore nothing but dark red pants that was held up by a rope or ribbon that was secured along his waste.

🔥 He looks at everyone as your friends all had mixed reactions, some were screaming their heads off while others were laughing and cheering over how their little trick worked.

🔥 Audrey in particular, was ecstatic, taking pictures of the demon as it stared at her.

🔥 "Oh my god, I didn't know he would be so hot!-" She was about to place he hand on his chest when he grabbed her wrist. She yelped and tried to let go but his grip was as strong as iron.

🔥 She starts screaming and trying to push him away while everyone else laughed at the scene. You could only step back and watch as Audrey continued yelling at the boy to let go of her, now scared out of her mind.

🔥 The dreaded ringing of laughter stopped all of a sudden after a loud, wet crack. Blood gushes out of Audrey's arm as he steps back from the grey man, you shake as you still see her now ripped off arm still in his grip.

🔥 Your friend's laughter is replaced with screams as the demon kills off your friends one by one, you run off and take cover behind an old truck in the warehouse while you hear the gruesome sounds of flesh ripping and your friends' screams diminishing with every life taken by the monster you summoned out of pure stupidity and recklessness.

🔥 The sounds stopped for a moment before you hear the sound of footsteps slowly coming towards you. You cry silently, praying to whatever was watching over you to help you, for a saving grace, a miracle, anything to get you out of there.

🔥 Your eyes blink open as you see the man kneeling down at you with wide eyes, the blood of your friends getting absorbed into his skin, giving his eyes a redder tint. You close your eyes, tears falling down your cheeks as you wait for your painful death.

🔥 But it never came.

🔥 A soft touch to your wet face makes you flinch as the demon coos at you and wipes away your tears, rubbing your cheek.

🔥 "Why are you so sad Master? Your sacrifice was much appreciated."

🔥 He spoke with a soft, sultry voice. You stutter out a "What?" as he cocks his head.

🔥 "Yes, those lowly creatures were very annoying, but their blood was the greatest gift I've ever received, such generosity deserves just service, right?" he smiles.

🔥 You were confused; Master? why would he be calling you that? Still frazzled by the events that happened to you, you stood up and started walking away, the moments you've witnessed still not sinking into your soul yet.

🔥 The demon stays where he was a bit longer before catching up to you, still smiling like he didn't just kill 5 people right in front of you.

🔥 "Are we going to your abode, Master? I'd be happy to carry you, you seem a bit exhausted." He said, going in front of you and offering his arms.

🔥 You laugh nervously at him, "N-no! No heheh.. uhm.. I'm fine walking to the car.." You walk by him, as his elvish ears perk up. "Car? I've never been in a car before!"

🔥 Now here you are, driving back to your house in blood-soaked clothes in your now dead friend's car with a demon who was busy sticking his tongue out of the cat window like a giant dog.

🔥 The silence was unbearable as the uneasiness of having such a dangerous creature next to you swallowed you whole, you didn't bother turning on music as he tried turning the dials and broke it.

🔥 "So..uh...why didn't you kill me? I know I'm your 'master' now and all but uh...Why not the others?"

🔥 "You really didn't know how it worked? Well, those idiots took a dumb shortcut and offered the blood of an animal. You, Master, generously gave your own blood for me, speaking of which.." He takes your hand that had the cut and licked it. You pull back your hand in disgust and try to carefully rub off the saliva but find that your finger no longer hurt. You look at it and see the cut fully healed, not a scar left.

🔥 You look at the demon who gave you a toothy smile and sighed.

🔥 "So..what do I call you?"

🔥 "My name is Dorik! May I know your's, Master?"

🔥 "Uh..I'm (Y/N).."

🔥 "What a fun name! (Y/N)..I like it!" He turns his head back to the window and giggles at the wind in his face. You couldn't help but giggle at his cute behavior. Looks like you have a new companion for a while...

🔥 Oh my god your friends are dead...

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loveinhawkins · 4 days

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When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.

Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.

If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.

The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.

Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.

But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.

It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.

Almost every senior.

It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.

But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.

He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.

It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.

He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.

But actually sitting there is his own choice.

He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.

Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.

So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.

“Wanna sign?”

Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.

“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.

Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.

Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.

Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.

“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”

Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.

A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.

And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.

The bell rings.

Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.

Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.

But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—

“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.

It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.

Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.

“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”

Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.

Good luck, Steve. —Eddie

Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.

Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.

And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.

He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it all together, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.

#back with the unexpected kindness in high school agenda #pre steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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sytoran · 11 months

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𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

you, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. now, the goddess of lust, natasha, is going to grant you a wish. you could've had just about anything, but looking at the ethereal being before you, there's only one thing on your mind.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: hello, folks! this is the long-awaited goddess!nat fic for the milestone event! i am quite proud of this fic, ngl... got a bit too carried away with some parts ;)

word count: 2.5k

the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

When you jumped in front of a speeding car to save a cat on the road, you had absolutely no clue that the cat was not, in fact, a cat.

This not-cat was a species of flerken, and it’s name was Goose. Flerkens were extremely dangerous alien creatures. At least, that’s what the Goddess of Galaxies, Carol Danvers, told you.

Trust me, meeting an intergalactic space goddess with a pet killing-machine (that looked awfully like a cat) was about as chaotic and unbelievable as you would imagine it to be.

—

“H-holy fuck!” you yelled, jumping in your seat, as a glowing woman materialised before your very eyes, in your shithole of an office.

“I do not believe I am holy, even though I am a Goddess.” The woman stated, watching with curious eyes as you tittered over your split coffee. Lifting your laptop and muttering curses, then sifting through the messed up paperwork.

“You’re a what?” You asked distractedly, still panicking over the mess that is your desk. “My boss is actually going to murder me. Or maybe I’ll murder myself first. I am literally- Yeah, okay, how the fuck did you appear like that? And aren’t gods supposed to be like, really huge? You look kinda…… human.”

“I am a goddess.” Carol reiterated with slight annoyance. A literal extraterrestrial being was in front of your eyes, and the only thing you cared about was your damn coffee?

“We are beings you could only ever fathom from the depths of your imagination, powerful beyond measure. Which is also why we can shapeshift to look like regular human beings, so we won’t scare the shit outta you. Which seems to have still happened.”

You let out a dry bark of laughter. Carol wasn’t sure if you thought she was funny or you were about to burst into tears.

“So, why did you decide to visit me, ever-powerful, omnipresent, all-mighty being?” You asked, half-sarcastically, half simply given up on life itself. The report you had been working on for nearly an hour had been ruined by the fiasco earlier.

You dropped into your chair, kicking your feet up onto your desk. Loosening your black tie with a weary sigh, you looked at the Goddess’ eyes and continued. “I’m a nobody. I’m an overworked and underpaid attorney. I run on caffeine. I don’t know why or how you’re here, but I really–”

“You saved us. The Gods and Goddesses.” Carol interrupts, firm and unyielding. “We owe you, alright? You get one wish.”

“One wish, to get whatever it is you desire. Anything. Anything at all.”

—

Your story was absolutely one of zero to hero. From an ‘underpaid and overworked attorney’, to having the fucking gods of the multiverse indebted to you, it seemed like a rather unorthodox situation.

“So… what do you want?” Carol had asked you.

“Uhm, I don’t need anything,” you mumbled, fiddling with your loosened tie. “Like, it’s totally chill between us even if I saved your cat.”

Great. Real cool, Y/N. The middle school boys could never compare to your level of failed attempts at being cool.

“Goose is not a cat, alright?” Carol commented, offended. You mutter an apology.

“So, what do you want?” she continued impatiently. “Humans thrive off greed. You mortals always want something. What is it, money? A fancy car? A boyfr– okay, not to be stereotypical, but you’re definitely not straight. So, women on your mind?”

You splutter at her outright but nevertheless true allegation. Carol gives you this blank stare that makes you feel stupid.

“Well, I guess, as a woman, there’s something I do want,” you speak up after a while. Carol raises her eyebrows in interest. “Something I have wanted to try, you know.”

Leaning closer to whisper your deepest desire in the goddess’ ear, Carol’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Her impressed, intrigued, embarrassed, and taken aback emotions all morphed into one expression, almost steals a laugh from your lips.

—

“You want me to grant you a cock.”

The Goddess of Lust sits in her throne, a picturesque image of perfection, the statement falling from her lips with such ease. There’s a lilt to her voice you can’t decipher. You just nod, looking unfalteringly at the goddess, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

The Goddess was slightly perturbed by your lack of, well, awe. There you were, standing in her grand palace, unfazed by the multi-million dollar chandeliers and gold-framed pictures, unfazed by her.

Natasha was just about the most exquisite sight people would kill to lay their eyes upon. Soft curls framed her delicately sculpted face like curtains to a stage, magnificent deep eyes and a more than well-endowed body to complement her pretty face. Her rose-gold dress of satins and sequins dripped with money. There was the thrall she exuded, of seduction so strong that had men and women falling to their knees.

Natasha was the Goddess of Lust for sakes, and the only thing you cared about was redeeming your wish?

She would’ve been annoyed, if not for how unfairly charming you were, standing with your hands in your pockets, a charming gentlemanly smile on your face.

“What kind of cock do you want?” Natasha resorts to ask, a playful smirk on her features. “I’ve seen some interesting ones over the years, intergalactic sex is far crazier than you would imagine. Ooh, do you want tentacles to-”

“Uh, no thanks.” You say hurriedly, a hand going out of your pocket to rub at your nose. It’s the first sign of discomfort or embarrassment Natasha’s seen from you. She grins.

“Just a regular human one?” She clarifies, pouting at you slightly.

“That’d be great, yeah.” You respond, back to smiling brightly. Natasha frowns. She knows that there’s something under that stupid gentlemanly facade you’re putting on. She’s craving to get a taste of it.

“What size?” The Goddess asks bluntly, like a Starbucks barista asking for your order on a Monday morning.

“A regular size would be fine, I suppose.” You respond in kind, nodding to yourself assuredly. Natasha winks at you. “Ah, a regular size, I see.”

Before you can decipher that cryptic response, the Goddess stands up, a pillar of superiority and authority. She snaps her fingers, and you’re being pushed back into a fancy chair. Where did the chair come from, anyway?

You forgo the answer to that question as the Goddess begins what you would assume to be the procedure. “Sit tight.”

A surge of pain presses against your crotch area, and you almost keel forward in shock, but the pain goes as quickly as it comes.

“Wait….. that’s it?” You ask, almost disbelievingly. Natasha nods proudly.

You look down, hands resting on your belt buckle.

You look up at the Goddess, and she only smirks.

You pull down your pants in swift fashion, letting out a quiet ‘whoa’ at the bulge in your boxers. It definitely feels bigger than would be regular, but then again you don’t have much knowledge of a man’s cock per se.

“Thank you,” You say, pleased with the results. Trying something new in the bedroom would definitely bring more life to your desolate days.

All too quick for the Goddess’ liking, you’re putting your clothes back on and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for your help,” You say calmly, turning to walk down the long passageway.

God, you just wanted to watch her fall apart.

As you walk, you feel Natasha’ eyes burning holes through your back. Oh, the tension was palpable, building with each step you took. It was getting harder to walk, with Natasha’s thrall like a heavyweight on your shoulders, willing you not to leave.

As you stand before the tall doors, you come to a standstill. Natasha waits in her throne with bated breath, so many words fighting to fall from the tip of her stubborn lips.

Your hand pushes down on the door handle, and that’s the last thing you can do before Natasha snaps her fingers again, and the tension is broken like a snapped coil. Suddenly, you’re pressed against her, looking into her dilated pupils.

“You’re so annoying, you know? I’ve been so fucking horny, looking at you this whole time, and you were about to get up leave?” Natasha asks, her tongue coming out to dart at her pink lips. Her hands have grasped your forearms, but your hands are cinched around her waist, disabling movement.

“No,” you breathe, head moving down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her poised neck. “I was waiting for you.” The Goddess throws her head back under your fleeting touch.

“Fuckin’ tease,” she mumbles, and you smirk against her skin. You’re rough with her, too, knowing that she isn’t made of glass, sucking purple marks into the pale skin of her neck, shoving your knee between her legs to spread them wider.

“Too much clothes,” Natasha breathes, and then with a burst of magic you’re stripped bare of any article of clothing. Her hands fly to your cock instantaneously, wrapping her delicate fingers around your semi-hard member.

You grunt against her skin, struggling to find a better position to properly have her. Since she’s sitting in the throne and you’re bent over above her, you can barely have her the way you want. Due to your lack of magical power, you resort to doing things the hard way.

Your hands slide under Goddess’ dress, going under her thighs, and then manhandling her up. Natasha’s whines of disapproval turn on deaf ears as you sit yourself in the grand chair, plopping her onto your lap. You don’t miss the way her thighs are already slightly damp.

“Need you inside now, fuck,” Natasha growls into your skin, climbing onto your cock as your hands squeeze at her thighs. You proceed to rip the fabric off her skin, deciding that there’s too much clothing restricting you from getting your hands on her.

And boy, was that a sight you’d never forget.

“Oh!” The Goddess cries, when you lean forward to wrap your lips around her hardened bud. Your hands don’t rest for a moment, squeezing everywhere – hips, thighs, breasts, ass — whatever you can get your hands on. She’s fucking exquisite.

The stimulation seems to work wonders for Natasha’s pleasure, as she engulfs your cock in her warmth with fervour.

You gasp lowly, a throaty sound escaping your lips. Her hips and ass go up and down, working her cunt around the girth of your cock, wet and warm and slick. You can barely keep up with how desperate she is, and the fact that you have this wonder of a woman falling apart at your hands makes your heart soar.

Matching the rhythm of short upward thrusts with Natasha’s riding makes her moan out loud, a pretty melodious sound that imprints itself into your brain all at once. You wanna hear it a hundreds of times more.

Natasha gets more messy with her riding, as you suck hickeys, light ones and fierce ones, into her collarbone and her neck and breasts. You can’t resist the urge to slap her on the ass as she rides you like it’s the last day she’d be on this universe.

“Ah!” The Goddess moans, and you grip her thighs and push her down hilt deep, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. You feel her cum around your cock, so needy and desperate and mindless, and that triggers your own climax.

Natasha hadn’t even begun to open her eyes again before she ends up on the floor and you hovering above her, your hands fervently spreading her cunt open. You duck your head down, licking a long stripe up her puffy clit.

The Goddess writhes, unintelligible moans falling from her lips as you proceed to give her the best fucking cunnilingus of her life.

You’re more than determined to make this an unforgettable experience for the Goddess who probably had sex every other day.

Natasha doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing with your tongue, but you’re ravenous and your carnal desire makes her even wetter than before.

She’s slept with plenty of people, human or not, but none of them had ever been this uncouth about her pussy. Oh, it nearly drove her mad, but she was already seeing stars.

Before the Goddess registers what’s happening, your hardened cock slides into her cunt with a flippant ease once again. Natasha lets out a filthy moan as she feels it throb inside her, clenching around you hard.

You slap her thigh in retaliation, but feeling the sudden strike of pain only turns her on further. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you pant. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Natasha takes it as a promise, when you spread her thighs and line your cock up with her pussy. The Goddess of Lust doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone this bad.

You enter her roughly, your previously calm exterior completely faded away. You fuck her deeper with each thrust, opening the Goddess up. Pounding into the woman’s cunt like a woman starved, you hear her beg and cry with each thrust.

“Oh, please! More! More!” The Goddes cries, nearly screaming your name every time your blunt head pushes against her cervix. You only get spurred on further, going at a pace so painfully fast you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

You swallow at the sight of this Goddess, completely breathtaking in her state of unravelling.

“My divine Goddess,” You say, leaning down to press a kiss against the bulge of your cock at her lower stomach.

Those words in itself have Natasha uncoiling before you, your name falling from her lips like a sacred mantra. Her walls are wrapped around your cock so tight, her nails digging into your back so hard it nearly draws blood.

“My divine Goddess,” you repeat, eyes glazed over, reaching your own climax inside her. Natasha lets out a filthy moan, feeling each throb of your cock in her as walls of cum pulse inside her, again and again.

God, it feels so good, everything everywhere all at once, your world becoming Natasha, Natasha, Natasha.

You think you could stay like this forever.

—

A long bath and a trip to the Goddess’ bedroom later, you’re laying on her expensive silk sheets, hair smelling like rosemilk or whatever that shampoo had been called.

You honestly don’t know how this gorgeous woman’s been charmed by your awkward humour and the coffee stain on your work shirt, but you’re definitely not complaining as she nuzzles into your neck, humming in satisfaction.

“You sure that’s the first time you’ve ever had a cock?”

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02 @jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69

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#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #x reader #marvel #marvel smut #marvel women #top reader #dom reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #goddess natasha #sytoran's 2k celebration

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acapelladitty · 10 days

Note

I need Cooper Howard leaving bruises and marks on a partner for reasons. Marking up his girl all pretty like~

Mornings Echo

Pairing: Cooper Howard/F!Reader

(tw for: rough handling, grinding, biting, threats of violence, skin marking, groping, filthy talk, mild nipple play, jealousy, possessive behaviour) [1.6k words]

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Crashing through the thin wooden door of the shed, a splintering noise squealed free of the old planks as Cooper kicked them shut with an aggressiveness that made your heart flutter. Random tools lined the wall opposite you, the wall to your back completely clear of debris, and a cheeky comment about his actions died in your throat as you quickly found yourself slammed against that same wall with a single fluid shove.

Stars dancing before your eyes as a surprised gasp fills the small area, your body remains stunned for a moment as Cooper stands before you, his hand still pressing harshly into your shoulder as he stares down at you with most of his features hidden by the shadows of his hat. You wrap a hand around his wrist, fingers clawing into the leather coat as you grip at him with equal aggression.

"Fucking ouch." You hiss, attempting to stamp at his foot with the ball of your own as petty revenge guides your movements. "The hell was that for?"

"Ain't sensible to tease a man like that." His eyes ablaze, the anger in Cooper's features is different to his usual rage as something much more muted yet complicated touches at the way his eyes narrow and his face tilts. "It'll get you into the kinda trouble I don't think you're ready to handle."

Tease?

A confused look furrows your brow.

Fresh off an exchange of caps for meds, you hadn't actively payed him enough attention during the transaction to tease him. All you had done was-

Oh.

Ah.

The trader, a lecherous old fuck with jerky fingers and a face that vaguely resembled rotten jelly, had shown an obvious interest in you that hadn't went unnoticed by yourself or, apparently, Cooper.

Never one to pass up the chance for a better deal, your rejections of his advances had been much less violent than you would have liked; but the resulting tolerance of the lingering touches he delivered with his disgusting hands has ensured an extra few capsules tossed in to the exchange.

So no, this wasn't anger that was pinning you to the wall.

This was jealousy.

"You're jealous." You accuse, never one to back down from the truth as his mouth visibly tightens in irritation at the words. "You didn't like me letting that filthy motherfucker think he had a chance! Damn, Cooper, didn't think it was that serious."

"You're free to do what you like and I don't pay your intentions no never mind. But what I can't abide is folks touching things that ain't theirs."

"I ain't anyone's." You reply, matching his tone and accented words with a mocking quality as your free hand shifts up to poke rudely at his chest. "So you can shove that possessive shit right up your ass until it comes pouring out of your jealous mouth."

He's on you in a flash, his quick movements catching you unaware as you squeak out your surprise once more. His mouth is hot against your own, forcing your lips open to claim his prize and steal a filthy kiss which he didn't deserve. A fact you make him more than aware of as you bite down on his lower lip with enough pressure to make him pull away, hissing violently and cursing you out as he does.

"You sure you ain't feral, darling? Biting like a rabid bitch? Better check to make sure."

His gloved hand forces itself within your shirt, accidentally ripping the top button free as it bounces along the floor to disappear under some dusty shelves. It does nothing to deter him though as his fingers drop enough to grope roughly at your left tit, pulling it free of your shirt as your feeble protests die in your throat - heated arousal making any denials difficult.

Fuck- you loved him like this. All business and action, decisive and determined. It was an attitude that had left you screaming louder than the wild dogs which roamed the abandoned wastelands.

Cowboy hat still lovingly perched atop his head, his face dips to your chest to replace his hand and blunted teeth roll across your nipple, the nub quickly peaking due to the cruel attention. His other hand still on your shoulder, both of your hands wrap around the back of his neck to pull him closer as he steals the breath from your throat.

Wordlessly panting, a low grunt escapes you as his teeth sink in to the flesh just to the side of your nipple - the skin there feeling sensitive and raw as he sucks it into his mouth, his intent to leave a livid mark in its wake clear. It's an uncomfortable sensation but hot as hell as you rub your thighs together, feeling the growing moisture there with a lightheaded frenzy making your thoughts fuzzy.

"Fuck, Cooper. You're gonna tear a chunk from me."

"A mighty fine idea. Maybe I will." He mutters into your breast before righting himself, looming to his full height once more. "I bet you'd taste just fine, all raw and bloody. Wouldn't even need to season you like all the others."

Grimacing at his cannibalistic tendencies, a facet of his personality that you didn't indulge in with quite as much enthusiasm, you glance down at the red mark on your chest - the imprint of his teeth visibly denting into the abused skin as Cooper continued.

"I'm sure I also saw that chunky son of a bitch eyeing up your neck so let's see if I can leave an impression there too."

Again moving too quickly for you to protest, Cooper presses his body into your own in such a way that you are utterly unable to move; trapped beneath his heated frame and the definite scent of leather and coppery blood which never seemed to leave him. He wasn't a jealous man typically but you were eager and more than interested in seeing how far this little game would go.

His roughened tongue licks across your pulse point, tasting the accrued sweat and grime which coats your skin and the wet sensation forces a shudder to run down your spine. He could say what he liked, but when it came to being a tease, he would always be the offending party. He seemed to delight in pushing your buttons with casual, lewd comments and finding particular ways of brushing his body against your own - regardless of who was around to witness it.

Tilting your neck to allow him easier access, he accepts the small boon with enthusiasm as his teeth join his tongue in marking up your skin. Soft kisses are interspersed with savage, quick snaps of his teeth and the dual sensations of pain and pleasure are almost enough to drive you insane as you writhe against him. Taking the hint, he pushes his knee between your legs and you instantly start to grind against his thigh - the stimulation enough to allow you to endure the rough treatment of your neck.

Your hand drops to his groin, cupping his hardened length through his trousers as he growls his appreciation into your skin.

"I think I like you when you're jealous." You taunt. "Maybe I should- fuck, Coop!" You cut off as he bites you once more, this time over the sensitive juncture where your neck meets the shoulder. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often."

"Dangerous game, sweetie." He rumbles in response, running his teeth along your earlobe. "I'm being Mr. Nice at the moment and marking up my property just a little bit, but there's always other ways to get the same results."

"Mmm, and what are you going to do, cowboy? Pulling at his head until he was facing you once more, the jealousy in his eyes is replaced by a burning arousal which you knew meant you were in for a solid ride. "Gonna rustle me up in that lasso of yours? Ride off with me in tow."

"Lasso's too nice for one as fiesty and spirited as you. Won't do shit. Any good rancher knows that a quick brand," his hand drops to your chest once more as his fingers poke at the sensitive mark he had suckled into the skin earlier, "would be best at reminding you who you belong to."

Already littered with scars and markings which showcased your journey through the wastelands better than any story could, the thought of a brand wasn't as off-putting as you might have thought and you rub as his cock with renewed vigour through his trousers as you give a contemplative hum.

"Sounds hot. Maybe if you're good and fuck me til I forgive that little shove into the wall," you lean into him and run your own teeth against his ear, "I'll even think about it, handsome."

#fallout #amazon fallout #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard smut #fallout smut #walton goggins

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yourdoorisunlocked · 3 months

Text

What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 1

𝐀/𝐍: This was originally supposed to be pretty dark, but my mind clearly had other plans since I ended up writing a fluffy little fic about our favorite radio man lmao. I’ll probably write up the angstier fic, too, if this one does well.

Also, the Reader is AFAB, since that’s what I’m comfortable writing for as a girl myself.

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐,𝟏𝟏𝟓 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

. . .

The door to Alastor’s manor creaked open for you, and with a grin you took the spare key he gave you from the lock and swung the door fully open to push yourself inside in an attempt to escape from the late winter chill.

It was a late January night, meaning the serene moonlight washed over the snowy landscape as early as 5:00 P.M., making it dangerous for a lady like yourself to be wandering the streets of New Orleans late at night.

But it had been months since you really had to worry about anything like that, since you had Alastor by your side to look out for you. Such a sweetheart to you, and a bit of a mama’s boy, too, judging by the pictures set atop the mantle just above the unlit fireplace.

The mere thought of your ever-enthusiastic smiling companion made you especially giddy as you kicked off your winter boots and shrugged your coat off your shoulders, placing it upon the antler-adorned coat rack and skipping past the staircase into the living room.

Flopping on the couch, you reached over for the radio while cuddling up with a blanket, excited to hear the well-awaited voice of the man who had altered the direction of your life – undoubtedly for the better – and you were practically kicking your feet like a flustered schoolgirl who had received your first confession as Alastor’s voice rang through the small device, loud and clear for you to hear.

“Good evening, New Orleans!” You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiastic announcer’s voice that he normally used for his radio show, and the first time the two of you had met.

Though, Alastor was more relaxed around you nowadays, seeing no need to keep up the too-cheery facade his listeners had renowned and adored him for. You cherished moments when he was simply relaxed, content with a close-lipped smile and sitting beside you, whether it be reading, playing the piano with you, occasionally even pulling you into a spontaneous dance.

As you listened practically through the entire thing, you began to silently fantasize about your unpredictable yet darling radio host.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have tonight, folks! I should be going, now. It's rather bad form to keep my doll waiting at home for me~,” He finished with a soft chuckle.

Blood rushed to your cheeks at that last little comment, practically cursing Alastor for his cheekiness, and he knew that you listened to his shows whenever you could.

"The au-diddly-dacity of that man..."

“Thank you for tuning in! See you next time~...”

The radio returned to static for a few seconds, before a jaunty little tune began to play through the speakers, and it just so happened to be one of your personal favorites, one that you, no matter what mood, nor what you were doing, couldn't help but jump up and dance to.

And, of course, Alastor knew you loved it.

You sighed with content as you relaxed into his couch cushions, sinking into the blanket that Alastor had laid out for you since he'd found you constantly falling asleep to his voice on the radio when he returned home from work.

A pang of guilt thundered against your chest as your heart strained at the stinging reminder of how much of a burden you really were to Alastor. He was a good man, who helped you out when you were in a tough spot, you should at least repay the favor, right?

I should at least do something nice for him... He's been so good to me, even inviting me over for dinner more times than I can count.

He was the one who offered me that job at the radio station, hell, he even let me off early so I could listen to his show!

With a huff, and a newfound sense of energy, you got to work around the house, tidying up and lighting the fireplace, sparking a candle or two, and keeping the radio playing all throughout the thirty minutes you had spent cleaning, imagining the look on Alastor’s face when he returned.

You had even started on dinner, making a nice pot of venison soup, since it seemed to be his favorite.

You pushed down the swell in your chest when you heard the doorbell ring, excitedly rushing over to a mirror and sweeping across your face and hair, making sure everything about you was in perfect shape.

You opened the door, craning your neck a good amount to make eye contact with dark chocolate eyes staring down at you intently, almost illuminated in the moonlight, set against smooth caramel skin beneath a fluff of mocha brown hair.

“Hel-!”

Alastor’s usual smile was smacked clean off his face at the sight of you standing before him, apron tied across your skirt with a few stains upon it, hair slightly amess but clearly put together.

"-Lo... My dear, what is the meaning of this?..." His tone seemed cheerful enough, if a bit bewildered as his eyes scanned your form once more, stopping upon the apron once again before returning his gaze to yours.

You looked so painfully, so heart throbbingly domestic that it nearly gave him a heart attack when he first opened the door. Such a submissive nature fed into other... primal desires of his that he wasn't fully prepared to delve into.

You smiled sheepishly up at him. "Why don't you come in? I've already started dinner," Alastor's trademark smile quirked his lips upward as he suddenly took your arm and headed inside, practically glowing as he headed straight for the kitchen.

"Oh, no, mister, you stay right there," you winked down at the radio host as you pulled him into a chair. "You've been working so late, let me handle dinner."

You truly piqued Alastor's interest when a familiar scent wafted past his nose, and he eyed you with surprise as you worked in the kitchen, pouring a hot, thick broth from the pot into a small bowl.

As you headed towards him, he tried his best not to absolutely melt in his seat as you served him with a smile, and he carefully took the steaming bowl from your hands.

Venison, hm? Well don’t mind if I-

AN: You know that one scene in Ratatouille where that critic takes a bite of his dish, and gets a flashback to when his mom used to cook for him? Imagine that but with Alastor.

“Is it good?” Your soft, almost worried voice brought him back to reality, and as he met your hopeful, imploring gaze, Alastor nearly choked on his food as heat crept up to his cheeks, burning against his face and ears.

For just a moment, I thought I saw...

With wide eyes, you rushed over to him with a napkin, patting his back and looking over him with concern as his coughing ceased, and he took the cloth with a grateful, slightly wobbly smile.

“Was it really that bad...?” Your confidence wavered slightly as you stared down at Alastor, realizing the sudden proximity as electricity raced up your spine and lit your cheeks aflame.

Half-lidded cocoa-brown eyes searched the very depths of your soul, before he shook his head and murmured, "No, quite the opposite. I'm... I'm actually quite thankful for this, tonight." Though, it couldn't have come at a worse possible time, when he was finally squashing any sort of emotions he felt for you into the dirt, only for you to make them froth and rise to the surface yet again.

Why, he hadn't realized how long it had been since anyone had done anything like this for him!

Ah, his dear mama...

He recalled the last dish she ever made for him. Her house-famous Jambalaya that he had adored so much. It even managed to put his father in a good mood.

"A-Al? Alastor? Are you alright...?"

He hadn't even noticed that tears were streaming down his slim cheeks until he felt small droplets falling upon his lap.

"Oh, nothing. This... This all just reminded me of someone..." He shook his head and took his circle-rimmed glasses off his pointed nose, rubbing the fogginess off the glass as the gears turned in your head.

You raised an eyebrow. "Who...?" You then caught a glimpse of the photos set above fireplace just past the couch that faced away from the kitchen. Of course!

Immediate regret washed over you as you fretted over Alastor, apologizing meekly as you attempted to clean up the soup in front of him, but you were stopped as he gripped your wrist.

"I'm so sorry! I never meant to be such a burden, I just really wanted to do something nice for you, s-since you're always-"

"No, please, this has been a delightful surprise, darling." You froze at the pet name, heat creeping over your cheeks and tinging your ears a bright pink as Alastor released his grip upon your hand.

"You have never, never felt like a burden to me. I promise you that," he slid his hand from your wrist to your hand in an act of comfort, but it only served to make your face glow even redder.

"Now I'd like to finish the dinner you made for me. If you don't mind, of course," his usual cheekiness had returned when he spotted your slightly flustered face, and you nodded and returned to your seat promptly.

Alastor, being ever the chatterbox, resurrected the flowing conversation between you two for a good hour, as he recalled stories from his childhood, keeping you entertained throughout your dinner. Your laughter filled the hallway, your smile both wounding and freeing his heart, while you sat, mesmerized at his captivating storytelling and how he spoke with his hands, practically alight as he drank in each expression you gave him.

"Would you care for a dance, darling?" Alastor spoke up suddenly, the contents of his bowl completely gone as you eyed it. You shyly agreed as he smiled gently and pulled you into the living room.

Soft caramel brown hands wrapped around yours as Alastor's slender fingers held you close in a surprisingly tight grip against him, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, along with his rapidly beating heart despite his suave demeanor as he slowly danced along with you to one of the songs that had begun playing on the radio beside the fireplace.

Nothing but your dear friend's soft humming along with the sounds of the radio filled the silence between you in the moment, and you began to relax in his grip as you lazily kept up with his slow steps.

Put your head on my shoulder~

A slow dance between you two, with an occasional twirl as Alastor nearly swept you off your feet swept the minutes away, until the moon was well past the horizon and twilight fell upon the sky.

As he spun you around once more, a sudden gust of air swept past the pair of you, nearly blowing out the candle beside you.

Hold me in your arms, baby...

Alastor's eyes widened at the sight of a petite, elderly woman standing beside the doorway into the kitchen, watching the two of you intently, until her form faded from the door with a shimmer of light and a gentle smile.

Squeeze me oh-so tight, show me...

He gulped softly at the sight of the angel while you stared into his eyes, completely fixated upon his surprised open-mouthed stare as his gaze flickered from behind you to your lips.

You barely missed his darkening expression as you both began to sway slowly once again.

Show me, that you love me, too~...

"Would you like to stay the night, darling?" For the first time in his life, Alastor seemed unsure, maybe even nervous, as his dark brows creased together and his charming smile twitched at the corners of his lips. You smiled and reached up to smooth out the crease with your fingers.

You had no idea how he warred with himself, knowing that he'd be practically signing his soul away simply to be in your company.

Put your lips next to mine, dear~...

But... Perhaps this would be worth it.

Perhaps moments like these, when time slowed, where you both could block out the rest of the world and simply bask in each other's company would be worth the risk.

Won't you kiss me once, baby~?

Alastor had decided, right then and there as you stared up at him with nothing but adoration.

He'd have you. He had to. He was damned either way, but he'd storm the pearly gates themselves if he failed to drag you down with him.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe...?

But, with immense relief, Alastor realized wouldn't take much persuasion as your eyes seemed to twinkle beside the flickering candlelight, and a gentle yet teasing smile played at your lips.

You and I will fall in love...

"Yes, I'd like that very much, Alastor."

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Okay, I KNOW that 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' was released in the 50s, BUT LET'S PRETEND IT WAS THE 20s, OKAY???

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this first post, I might write a part two if the people want one. Maybe Alastor headcanons?? Who knows...

Let's just see how far this goes lmao.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #fluff #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #fanfic #writing #very inaccurate 1920s representation #this man is my new hyperfixation for the next couple of weeks so buckle up lmao #I will never shut up about alastor istg #expect more slow dancing scenes with him #it's like 12 am rn ya'll 💀#yourdoorisunlocked

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